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I never saw my mother, to know her as such, more than four or five

times in my life; and each of these times was very short in duration,

and at night. She was hired by a Mr. Stewart, who lived about twelve

miles from my home. She made her journeys to see me in the night,

travelling the whole distance on foot, after the performance of her

day’s work. She was a field hand, and a whipping is the penalty of not

being in the field at sunrise, unless a slave has special permission

from his or her master to the contrary—a permission which they seldom

get, and one that gives to him that gives it the proud name of being a

kind master. I do not recollect of ever seeing my mother by the light

of day. She was with me in the night. She would lie down with me, and

get me to sleep, but long before I waked she was gone. Very little

communication ever took place between us. Death soon ended what little

we could have while she lived, and with it her hardships and suffering.

She died when I was about seven years old, on one of my master’s farms,

near Lee’s Mill. I was not allowed to be present during her illness, at

her death, or burial. She was gone long before I knew any thing about

it. Never having enjoyed, to any considerable extent, her soothing

presence, her tender and watchful care, I received the tidings of her

death with much the same emotions I should have probably felt at the

death of a stranger.

Called thus suddenly away, she left me without the slightest intimation

of who my father was. The whisper that my master was my father, may or

may not be true; and, true or false, it is of but little consequence to

my purpose whilst the fact remains, in all its glaring odiousness, that

slaveholders have ordained, and by law established, that the children

of slave women shall in all cases follow the condition of their

mothers; and this is done too obviously to administer to their own

lusts, and make a gratification of their wicked desires profitable as

well as pleasurable; for by this cunning arrangement, the slaveholder,

in cases not a few, sustains to his slaves the double relation of

master and father.

I know of such cases; and it is worthy of remark that such slaves

invariably suffer greater hardships, and have more to contend with,

than others. They are, in the first place, a constant offence to their

mistress. She is ever disposed to find fault with them; they can seldom

do any thing to please her; she is never better pleased than when she

sees them under the lash, especially when she suspects her husband of

showing to his mulatto children favors which he withholds from his

black slaves. The master is frequently compelled to sell this class of

his slaves, out of deference to the feelings of his white wife; and,

cruel as the deed may strike any one to be, for a man to sell his own

children to human flesh-mongers, it is often the dictate of humanity

for him to do so; for, unless he does this, he must not only whip them

himself, but must stand by and see one white son tie up his brother, of

but few shades darker complexion than himself, and ply the gory lash to

his naked back; and if he lisp one word of disapproval, it is set down

to his parental partiality, and only makes a bad matter worse, both for

himself and the slave whom he would protect and defend.

Every year brings with it multitudes of this class of slaves. It was

doubtless in consequence of a knowledge of this fact, that one great

statesman of the south predicted the downfall of slavery by the

inevitable laws of population. Whether this prophecy is ever fulfilled

or not, it is nevertheless plain that a very different-looking class of

people are springing up at the south, and are now held in slavery, from

those originally brought to this country from Africa; and if their

increase do no other good, it will do away the force of the argument,

that God cursed Ham, and therefore American slavery is right. If the

lineal descendants of Ham are alone to be scripturally enslaved, it is

certain that slavery at the south must soon become unscriptural; for

thousands are ushered into the world, annually, who, like myself, owe

their existence to white fathers, and those fathers most frequently

their own masters.

I have had two masters. My first master’s name was Anthony. I do not

remember his first name. He was generally called Captain Anthony—a

title which, I presume, he acquired by sailing a craft on the

Chesapeake Bay. He was not considered a rich slaveholder. He owned two

or three farms, and about thirty slaves. His farms and slaves were

under the care of an overseer. The overseer’s name was Plummer. Mr.

Plummer was a miserable drunkard, a profane swearer, and a savage

monster. He always went armed with a cowskin and a heavy cudgel. I have

known him to cut and slash the women’s heads so horribly, that even

master would be enraged at his cruelty, and would threaten to whip him

if he did not mind himself. Master, however, was not a humane

slaveholder. It required extraordinary barbarity on the part of an

overseer to affect him. He was a cruel man, hardened by a long life of

slaveholding. He would at times seem to take great pleasure in whipping

a slave. I have often been awakened at the dawn of day by the most

heart-rending shrieks of an own aunt of mine, whom he used to tie up to

a joist, and whip upon her naked back till she was literally covered

with blood. No words, no tears, no prayers, from his gory victim,

seemed to move his iron heart from its bloody purpose. The louder she

screamed, the harder he whipped; and where the blood ran fastest, there

he whipped longest. He would whip her to make her scream, and whip her

to make her hush; and not until overcome by fatigue, would he cease to

swing the blood-clotted cowskin. I remember the first time I ever

witnessed this horrible exhibition. I was quite a child, but I well

remember it. I never shall forget it whilst I remember any thing. It

was the first of a long series of such outrages, of which I was doomed

to be a witness and a participant. It struck me with awful force. It

was the blood-stained gate, the entrance to the hell of slavery,

through which I was about to pass. It was a most terrible spectacle. I

wish I could commit to paper the feelings with which I beheld it.

This occurrence took place very soon after I went to live with my old

master, and under the following circumstances. Aunt Hester went out one

night,—where or for what I do not know,—and happened to be absent when

my master desired her presence. He had ordered her not to go out

evenings, and warned her that she must never let him catch her in

company with a young man, who was paying attention to her belonging to

Colonel Lloyd. The young man’s name was Ned Roberts, generally called

Lloyd’s Ned. Why master was so careful of her, may be safely left to

conjecture. She was a woman of noble form, and of graceful proportions,

having very few equals, and fewer superiors, in personal appearance,

among the colored or white women of our neighborhood.

Aunt Hester had not only disobeyed his orders in going out, but had

been found in company with Lloyd’s Ned; which circumstance, I found,

from what he said while whipping her, was the chief offence. Had he

been a man of pure morals himself, he might have been thought

interested in protecting the innocence of my aunt; but those who knew

him will not suspect him of any such virtue. Before he commenced

whipping Aunt Hester, he took her into the kitchen, and stripped her

from neck to waist, leaving her neck, shoulders, and back, entirely

naked. He then told her to cross her hands, calling her at the same

time a d——d b—-h. After crossing her hands, he tied them with a strong

rope, and led her to a stool under a large hook in the joist, put in

for the purpose. He made her get upon the stool, and tied her hands to

the hook. She now stood fair for his infernal purpose. Her arms were

stretched up at their full length, so that she stood upon the ends of

her toes. He then said to her, “Now, you d——d b—-h, I’ll learn you how

to disobey my orders!” and after rolling up his sleeves, he commenced

to lay on the heavy cowskin, and soon the warm, red blood (amid

heart-rending shrieks from her, and horrid oaths from him) came

dripping to the floor. I was so terrified and horror-stricken at the

sight, that I hid myself in a closet, and dared not venture out till

long after the bloody transaction was over. I expected it would be my

turn next. It was all new to me. I had never seen any thing like it

before. I had always lived with my grandmother on the outskirts of the

plantation, where she was put to raise the children of the younger

women. I had therefore been, until now, out of the way of the bloody

scenes that often occurred on the plantation.

CHAPTER II

My master’s family consisted of two sons, Andrew and Richard; one

daughter, Lucretia, and her husband, Captain Thomas Auld. They lived in

one house, upon the home plantation of Colonel Edward Lloyd. My master

was Colonel Lloyd’s clerk and superintendent. He was what might be

called the overseer of the overseers. I spent two years of childhood on

this plantation in my old master’s family. It was here that I witnessed

the bloody transaction recorded in the first chapter; and as I received

my first impressions of slavery on this plantation, I will give some

description of it, and of slavery as it there existed. The plantation

is about twelve miles north of Easton, in Talbot county, and is

situated on the border of Miles River. The principal products raised

upon it were tobacco, corn, and wheat. These were raised in great

abundance; so that, with the products of this and the other farms

belonging to him, he was able to keep in almost constant employment a

large sloop, in carrying them to market at Baltimore. This sloop was

named Sally Lloyd, in honor of one of the colonel’s daughters. My

master’s son-in-law, Captain Auld, was master of the vessel; she was

otherwise manned by the colonel’s own slaves. Their names were Peter,

Isaac, Rich, and Jake. These were esteemed very highly by the other

slaves, and looked upon as the privileged ones of the plantation; for

it was no small affair, in the eyes of the slaves, to be allowed to see

Baltimore.

Colonel Lloyd kept from three to four hundred slaves on his home

plantation, and owned a large number more on the neighboring farms

belonging to him. The names of the farms nearest to the home plantation

were Wye Town and New Design. “Wye Town” was under the overseership of

a man named Noah 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

of the home plantation. This was the great business place. It was the

seat of government for the whole twenty farms. All disputes among the

overseers were settled here. If a slave was convicted of any high

misdemeanor, became unmanageable, or evinced a determination 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 slaves remaining.

Here, too, the slaves of all the other farms received their monthly

allowance of food, and their yearly clothing. The men and women slaves

received, as their monthly allowance of food, eight pounds of pork, or

its equivalent in fish, and one bushel of corn meal. Their yearly

clothing consisted of two coarse linen shirts, one pair of linen

trousers, like the 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 not have cost more than seven dollars.

The allowance of the slave children was given to their mothers, or the

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; their clothing consisted of two coarse linen shirts per year.

When these failed them, they went naked until the next allowance-day.

Children from seven to ten years old, of both sexes, almost naked,

might be seen at all seasons of the year.

There were no beds given the slaves, unless one coarse blanket be

considered such, and none but the men and women had these. This,

however, is not considered a very great privation. They find less

difficulty from the want of beds, than from the want of time to sleep;

for when their day’s work in the field is done, the most of them having

their washing, mending, and cooking to do, and having few or none of

the ordinary facilities for doing either of these, 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 and female, married and

single, drop down side by side, on one common bed,—the cold, damp

floor,—each covering himself or herself with their miserable blankets;

and here they sleep till they are summoned to the field by the driver’s

horn. At the sound of this, all must rise, and be off to the field.

There must be no halting; every one must be at his or her post; and woe

betides them who hear not this morning summons to the field; for if

they are not awakened by the sense of hearing, they are by the sense of

feeling: no age nor sex finds any favor. Mr. Severe, the overseer, used

to stand by the door of the quarter, armed with a large hickory stick

and heavy cowskin, ready to whip any one who was so unfortunate as not

to hear, or, from any other cause, was prevented from being ready to

start for the field at the sound of the horn.

Mr. Severe was rightly named: he was a cruel man. I have seen him whip

a woman, causing the blood to run half an hour at the time; and this,

too, in the midst of her crying children, pleading for their mother’s

release. He seemed to take pleasure in manifesting his fiendish

barbarity. Added to his cruelty, he was a profane swearer. It was

enough to chill the blood and stiffen the hair of an ordinary man to

hear him talk. Scarce a sentence escaped him but that was commenced or

concluded by some horrid oath. The field was the place to witness his

cruelty and profanity. His presence made it both the field of blood and

of blasphemy. From the rising till 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 dying groans, bitter curses and horrid oaths. His death was

regarded by the slaves as the result of a merciful providence.

Mr. Severe’s place was filled by a Mr. Hopkins. He was a very different

man. He was less cruel, less profane, and made less noise, than Mr.

Severe. His course was characterized by no extraordinary demonstrations

of cruelty. He whipped, but seemed to take no pleasure in it. He was

called by the slaves a good overseer.

The home plantation of Colonel Lloyd wore the appearance of a country

village. All the mechanical operations 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 home plantation. The whole place wore a business-like

aspect very unlike the neighboring farms. The number of houses, too,

conspired to give it advantage over the neighboring farms. It was

called by the slaves the _Great House Farm._ Few privileges were

esteemed higher, by the slaves of the out-farms, than that of being

selected to do errands at the Great House Farm. It was associated in

their minds with greatness. A representative could not be prouder of

his election to a seat in the American Congress, than a slave on one of

the out-farms would be of his election 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 on this account, as well as a constant

desire to be out of the field from under the driver’s lash, that they

esteemed it a high privilege, one worth careful living for. He was

called the smartest and most trusty fellow, who had this honor

conferred upon him the most frequently. The competitors for this office

sought as diligently to please their overseers, as the office-seekers

in the political parties seek to please and deceive the people. The

same traits of character might be seen in Colonel Lloyd’s slaves, as

are seen in the slaves of the political parties.

The slaves selected to go to the Great House Farm, for the monthly

allowance for themselves and their fellow-slaves, were peculiarly

enthusiastic. While on their way, they would make the dense old woods,

for miles around, reverberate with their wild songs, revealing at once

the highest joy and the deepest sadness. They would compose and sing as

they went along, consulting neither time nor tune. The thought that

came up, came out—if not in the word, in the sound;—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 all of their songs they would manage to

weave something of the Great House Farm. Especially would they do this,

when leaving home. They would then sing 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 to many would seem

unmeaning jargon, but which, nevertheless, were full of meaning to

themselves. I have sometimes thought that the mere hearing of those

songs would do more to impress some minds with the horrible character

of slavery, than the reading of whole volumes of philosophy on the

subject could do.

I did not, when a slave, understand the deep meaning of those rude and

apparently incoherent songs. I was myself within the circle; so that I

neither saw nor heard as those without might see and hear. They told a

tale of woe which was then altogether beyond my feeble comprehension;

they were tones loud, long, and deep; they breathed the prayer and

complaint of souls boiling over with the bitterest anguish. Every tone

was a testimony against slavery, and a prayer to God for deliverance

from chains. The hearing of those wild notes always depressed my

spirit, and filled me with ineffable sadness. I have frequently found

myself in tears while hearing them. The mere recurrence to those songs,

even now, afflicts me; and while I am writing these lines, an

expression of feeling has already found its way down my cheek. To those

songs I trace my first glimmering conception of the dehumanizing

character of slavery. I can never get rid of that conception. Those

songs still follow me, to deepen my hatred of slavery, and quicken my

sympathies for my brethren in bonds. If any one wishes to be impressed

with the soul-killing effects of slavery, let him go to Colonel Lloyd’s

plantation, and, on allowance-day, place himself in the deep pine

woods, and there let him, in silence, analyze the sounds that shall

pass through the chambers of his soul,—and if he 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 came to the north, to

find persons who could speak of the singing, among slaves, as evidence

of their contentment and happiness. It is impossible to conceive of a

greater mistake. Slaves sing most when they are most unhappy. The songs

of the slave represent the sorrows of his heart; and he is relieved by

them, only as an aching heart is relieved by its tears. At least, such

is my experience. I have often sung to drown my 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. The singing of a man cast

away upon a desolate island might be as appropriately considered as

evidence of contentment and happiness, as the singing of a slave; the

songs of the one and of the other are prompted by the same emotion.

CHAPTER III

Colonel Lloyd kept a large and finely cultivated garden, which afforded

almost constant employment for four men, besides the chief gardener,

(Mr. M’Durmond.) This garden was probably the greatest attraction of

the place. During the summer months, people came from far and near—from

Baltimore, Easton, and Annapolis—to see it. It abounded in fruits of

almost every description, from the hardy apple of the north to the

delicate orange of the south. This garden was not the least source of

trouble on the plantation. Its excellent fruit was quite a temptation

to the hungry swarms of boys, as well as the older slaves, belonging to

the colonel, few of whom had the virtue or the vice to resist it.

Scarcely a day passed, during the summer, but that some slave had to

take the lash for stealing fruit. The colonel had to resort to all

kinds of stratagems to keep his slaves out of the garden. The last and

most successful one was that of tarring his fence all around; after

which, if a slave was caught with any tar upon his person, it was

deemed sufficient proof that he had either been into the garden, or had

tried to get in. In either case, he was severely whipped by the chief

gardener. This plan worked well; the slaves became as fearful of tar as

of the lash. They seemed to realize the impossibility of touching _tar_

without being defiled.

The colonel also kept a splendid riding equipage. His stable and

carriage-house presented the appearance of some of our large city

livery establishments. His horses were of the finest form and noblest

blood. His carriage-house contained three splendid coaches, three or

four gigs, besides dearborns and barouches of the most fashionable

style.

This establishment was under the care of two slaves—old Barney and

young Barney—father and son. To attend to this establishment was their

sole work. But it was by no means an easy employment; for in nothing

was Colonel Lloyd more particular than in the management of his horses.

The slightest inattention to these was unpardonable, and was visited

upon those, under whose care they were placed, with the severest

punishment; no excuse could shield them, if the colonel only suspected

any want of attention to his horses—a supposition which he frequently

indulged, and one which, of course, made the office of old and young

Barney a very trying one. They never knew when they were safe from

punishment. They were frequently whipped when least deserving, and

escaped whipping when most deserving it. Every thing depended upon the

looks of the horses, and the state of Colonel Lloyd’s own mind when his

horses were brought to him for use. If a horse did not move fast

enough, or hold his head high enough, it was owing to some fault of his

keepers. It was painful to stand near the stable-door, and hear the

various complaints against the keepers when a horse was taken out for

use. “This horse has not had proper attention. He has not been

sufficiently rubbed and curried, or he has not been properly fed; his

food was too wet or too dry; he got it too soon or too late; he was too

hot or too cold; he had too much hay, and not enough of grain; or he

had too much grain, and not enough of hay; instead of old Barney’s

attending to the horse, he had very improperly left it to his son.” To

all these complaints, no matter how unjust, the slave must answer never

a word. Colonel Lloyd could not brook any contradiction from a slave.

When he spoke, a slave must stand, listen, and tremble; and such was

literally the case. I have seen Colonel Lloyd make old Barney, a man

between fifty and sixty years of age, uncover his bald head, kneel down

upon the cold, damp ground, and receive upon his naked and toil-worn

shoulders more than thirty lashes at the time. Colonel Lloyd had three

sons—Edward, Murray, and Daniel,—and three sons-in-law, Mr. Winder, Mr.

Nicholson, and Mr. Lowndes. All of these lived at the Great House Farm,

and enjoyed the luxury of whipping the servants when they pleased, from

old Barney down to William Wilkes, the coach-driver. I have seen Winder

make one of the house-servants stand off from him a suitable distance

to be touched with the end of his whip, and at every stroke raise great

ridges upon his back.

To describe the wealth of Colonel Lloyd would be almost equal to

describing the riches of Job. He kept from ten to fifteen

house-servants. He was said to own a thousand slaves, and I think this

estimate quite within the truth. Colonel Lloyd owned so many that he

did not know them when he saw them; nor did all the slaves of the

out-farms know him. It is reported of him, that, while riding along the

road one day, he met a colored man, and addressed him in the usual

manner of speaking to colored people on the public highways of the

south: “Well, boy, whom do you belong to?” “To Colonel Lloyd,” replied

the slave. “Well, does the colonel treat you well?” “No, sir,” was the

ready reply. “What, does he work you too hard?” “Yes, sir.” “Well,

don’t he give you enough to eat?” “Yes, sir, he gives me enough, such

as it is.”

The colonel, after ascertaining where the slave belonged, rode on; the

man also went on about his business, not dreaming that he had been

conversing with his master. He thought, said, and heard nothing more of

the matter, until two or three weeks afterwards. The poor man was then

informed by his overseer that, for having found fault with his master,

he was now to be sold to a Georgia trader. He was immediately chained

and handcuffed; and thus, without a moment’s warning, he was snatched

away, and forever sundered, from his family and friends, by a hand more

unrelenting than death. This is the penalty of telling the truth, of

telling the simple truth, in answer to a series of plain questions.

It is partly in consequence of such facts, that slaves, when inquired

of as to their condition and the character of their masters, almost

universally say they are contented, and that their masters are kind.

The slaveholders have been known to send in spies among their slaves,

to ascertain their views and feelings in regard to their condition. The

frequency of this has had the effect to establish among the slaves the

maxim, that a still tongue makes a wise head. They suppress the truth

rather than take the consequences of telling it, and in so doing prove

themselves a part of the human family. If they have any thing to say of

their masters, it is generally in their masters’ favor, especially when

speaking to an untried man. I have been frequently asked, when a slave,

if I had a kind master, and do not remember ever to have given a

negative answer; nor did I, in pursuing this course, consider myself as

uttering what was absolutely false; for I always measured the kindness

of my master by the standard of kindness set up among slaveholders

around us. Moreover, slaves are like other people, and imbibe

prejudices quite common to others. They think their own better than

that of others. Many, under the influence of this prejudice, think

their own masters are better than the masters of other slaves; and

this, too, in some cases, when the very reverse is true. Indeed, it is

not uncommon for slaves even to fall out and quarrel among themselves

about the relative goodness of their masters, each contending for the

superior goodness of his own over that of the others. At the very same

time, they mutually execrate their masters when viewed separately. It

was so on our plantation. When Colonel Lloyd’s slaves met the slaves of

Jacob Jepson, they seldom parted without a quarrel about their masters;

Colonel Lloyd’s slaves contending that he was the richest, and Mr.

Jepson’s slaves that he was the smartest, and most of a man. Colonel

Lloyd’s slaves would boast his ability to buy and sell Jacob Jepson.

Mr. Jepson’s slaves would boast his ability to whip Colonel Lloyd.

These quarrels would almost always end in a fight between the parties,

and those that whipped were supposed to have gained the point at issue.

They seemed to think that the greatness of their masters was

transferable to themselves. It was considered as being bad enough to be

a slave; but to be a poor man’s slave was deemed a disgrace indeed!

CHAPTER IV

Mr. Hopkins remained but a short time in the office of overseer. Why

his career was so short, I do not know, but suppose he lacked the

necessary severity to suit Colonel Lloyd. Mr. Hopkins was succeeded by

Mr. Austin Gore, a man possessing, in an eminent degree, all those

traits of character indispensable to what is called a first-rate

overseer. Mr. Gore had served Colonel Lloyd, in the capacity of

overseer, upon one of the out-farms, and had shown himself worthy of

the high station of overseer upon the home or Great House Farm.