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.
Colonel Lloyd kept a large, carefully tended garden. It kept four men busy almost constantly, besides the head gardener, Mr. M’Durmond. This garden was probably the place’s greatest attraction. During summer, people came from far and near, from Baltimore, Easton, and Annapolis, to see it. It was full of almost every kind of fruit, from the hardy northern apple to the delicate southern orange. The garden was also a considerable source of trouble on the plantation. Its excellent fruit greatly tempted the crowds of hungry boys, as well as the older people the colonel enslaved. Few had either the virtue or the vice to resist it. Hardly a summer day passed without someone being whipped for stealing fruit. The colonel tried all kinds of tricks to keep the people he enslaved out of the garden. His last and most successful trick was to coat the fence with tar all the way around. After that, any tar found on an enslaved person was considered sufficient proof of entering or trying to enter the garden. In either case, the head gardener whipped that person severely. This plan worked well. The enslaved people became as afraid of tar as of the whip. They seemed to understand that it was impossible to touch tar without being stained.
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.
The colonel also kept an impressive collection of riding horses and carriages. His stable and carriage house looked like some of our large city stables that rent out horses and carriages. His horses had the finest builds and the noblest bloodlines. His carriage house held three magnificent coaches and three or four light, two-wheeled carriages called gigs. It also held dearborns and barouches, other types of carriages, in the most fashionable styles.
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.
Two enslaved men cared for this establishment: old Barney and young Barney, father and son. This was their only work. But it was far from easy. Colonel Lloyd was more particular about the care of his horses than about anything else. The slightest neglect was unforgivable, and those responsible received the harshest punishment. No excuse could protect them if the colonel even suspected that his horses had been neglected. He often suspected this, which made old and young Barney’s work very difficult. They never knew when they were safe from punishment. They were often whipped when they least deserved it, and escaped whipping when they most deserved it. Everything depended on how the horses looked and Colonel Lloyd’s mood when they were brought to him. If a horse did not move fast enough or hold its head high enough, its keepers were to blame. It was painful to stand near the stable door and hear the complaints when a horse was brought out. “This horse has not been properly cared for. He has not been rubbed down and brushed enough, or he has not been properly fed. His food was too wet or too dry. He was fed too early or too late. He was too hot or too cold. He had too much hay and not enough grain, or too much grain and not enough hay. Instead of caring for the horse himself, old Barney very improperly left it to his son.” No matter how unjust these complaints were, the enslaved man could not say a word in reply. Colonel Lloyd would not tolerate any disagreement from an enslaved person. When he spoke, an enslaved person had to stand, listen, and tremble. This was literally what happened. I have seen Colonel Lloyd make old Barney, a man between fifty and sixty, uncover his bald head. He made him kneel on the cold, damp ground. Then he gave him more than thirty lashes at a time across his bare, work-worn shoulders. Colonel Lloyd had three sons, Edward, Murray, and Daniel, and three sons-in-law, Mr. Winder, Mr. Nicholson, and Mr. Lowndes. All lived at the Great House Farm and enjoyed the luxury of whipping the servants whenever they pleased. This included everyone from old Barney to William Wilkes, the coach driver. I have seen Winder make a house servant stand just far enough away for his whip’s tip to reach him. Every stroke raised large welts on 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.”
Describing Colonel Lloyd’s wealth would be almost like describing the riches of Job. He kept ten to fifteen household servants. He was said to own a thousand enslaved people, and I think that estimate was well within the truth. Colonel Lloyd owned so many enslaved people that he did not recognize them when he saw them. Nor did all the enslaved people on his outlying farms know him. According to one story, he met a Black man while riding along the road one day. He spoke to him in the usual way Black people were addressed on public roads in the South. “Well, boy, who do you belong to?” “To Colonel Lloyd,” the enslaved man replied. “Well, does the colonel treat you well?” “No, sir,” came the quick reply. “What, does he work you too hard?” “Yes, sir.” “Well, doesn’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.
After finding out where the enslaved man belonged, the colonel rode on. The man also went about his business, never imagining he had been talking to his master. He thought, said, and heard nothing more about it until two or three weeks later. His overseer then told the poor man that he would be sold to a Georgia slave trader for criticizing his master. He was immediately chained and handcuffed. Without a moment’s warning, he was snatched away and separated forever from his family and friends. The hand that tore him away was more merciless than death. This is the punishment for telling the truth, the simple truth, in answer to a series of straightforward 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!
Facts like these partly explain why slaves almost always say they are content when asked about their condition. They also say their masters are kind. Slaveholders have been known to send spies among their slaves to learn how they feel about their condition. This happens so often that slaves have adopted the saying that keeping quiet is wise. They hide the truth rather than face the consequences of telling it. In doing so, they show themselves to be part of the human family. If they say anything about their masters, it is generally favorable, especially when speaking to someone they do not trust yet. When I was a slave, I was often asked whether I had a kind master. I do not remember ever answering no. In answering this way, I did not think I was saying something entirely false. I always judged my master’s kindness by the standard of kindness among the slaveholders around us. Moreover, slaves are like other people and pick up prejudices common to others. They think what is theirs is better than what belongs to others. This prejudice leads many to think their own masters are better than other slaves’ masters. In some cases, the exact opposite is true. Indeed, slaves commonly argue and quarrel among themselves about whose master is better. Each insists that his own master is better than the others. Yet, when considering their masters individually, they all curse them. It was this way on our plantation. When Colonel Lloyd’s slaves met Jacob Jepson’s slaves, they seldom parted without quarreling about their masters. Colonel Lloyd’s slaves insisted that he was the richest. Mr. Jepson’s slaves insisted that he was the smartest and the most of a man. Colonel Lloyd’s slaves boasted that he could buy and sell Jacob Jepson. Mr. Jepson’s slaves boasted that he could beat Colonel Lloyd in a fight. These quarrels almost always ended in a fight between the two groups. Those who won the fight were considered to have won the argument. They seemed to think their masters’ greatness could become their own. Being a slave was considered bad enough. But being a poor man’s slave was considered a disgrace indeed!