"ALL OF US WOULD WALK TOGETHER": THE TRANSITION FROM SLAVERY TO FREEDOM AT ST. MARY’S CITY, MARYLAND By Terry Peterkin Brock A DISSERTATION Submitted to Michigan State University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Anthropology—Doctor of Philosophy 2014 ABSTRACT "ALL OF US WOULD WALK TOGETHER": THE TRANSITION FROM SLAVERY TO FREEDOM AT ST. MARY’S CITY, MARYLAND by Terry Peterkin Brock In 1840, Dr. John Mackall Brome inherited his father’s plantation along the St. Mary’s River in St. Mary’s County, Maryland. Over the ensuing decades, Brome built his plantation into one of the largest in Southern Maryland, both in acreage and slaveholdings. By the Civil War, his plantation landscape had been entirely rebuilt, and was home to over 60 enslaved African Americans. This dissertation examines how Brome managed his plantation during and after slavery, and how African Americans used, reused, modified, and changed the plantation landscape to survive their bondage and define their freedom after slavery. Examining the transition from slavery to freedom has received limited attention in archaeological analysis, and this research introduces a model for understanding the transition through the plantation landscape. The landscape was a critical form of control developed by planters to efficiently produce archaeological crops and manage enslaved laborers. This system, in place for centuries in the American South, was entirely reformed after the emancipation of African American laborers. This study will examine how Brome’s strategy for managing his labor changed over time, and how African Americans leveraged their newfound freedom to define their freedom and establish independence. This transition is particularly unique in Maryland, which sided with the Union during the Civil War, and which underwent multiple changes in its agricultural economy throughout the 19th century, transitioning from tobacco to wheat to meat and dairy production. This complicates the traditional narrative of post-Emancipation agricultural relationships between blacks and whites, as Marylander’s began producing less labor intensive crops. Meanwhile, African Americans used their new freedoms to change the way they used space to organize their households, build families, and establish communities on and off the plantation. A number of spheres will be interrogated to understand how space was used before and after slavery. The plantation will be considered as a whole to understand the way the built environment changed through time, including Brome’s plantation redesign during the 1840s and its decline through the rest of the century. Brome’s use of this landscape to establish control of his slaves and demonstrate his power to his peers will be examined, and how this was effected by the Civil War and Emancipation. For African Americans, a number of spaces on the plantation will be examined, including the plantation proper, the African American domestic sphere, work areas including the manor home, and the wilderness to provide insight into the way that African Americans used space differently after Emancipation. These spaces will be considered in the context of household formation and community building, extending to areas off the plantation. This research demonstrates that Brome used his landscape as a means of controlling his enslaved laborers and to demonstrate his power through a performative space to his peers. The regular presence of Union soldiers during the Civil War, crippled his control, and provided the necessary cracks for enslaved laborers to resist their bondage and gain freedom. After the War, Brome’s agricultural pursuits transition from large sharecropping towards less labor intensive crops and investments in the railroad, resulting in the reduction of his plantation size by the 1880s. Enslaved African Americans reused plantation spaces to create alternate plantation landscapes. They modified their households to mitigate the effects of slavery, and used space on and off the plantation to build communities. After the Civil War, African American reconstituted their families into households, and began to separate their community spaces from the white landscape. Instead of reusing space on the plantation, they instead created independent spaces where they could practice family, household and community interactions. Copyright by TERRY PETERKIN BROCK 2014 To Emma Hall and the Milburn family: thank you for sharing your stories, your home, and your past with all of us. To Grandma and Pop Pop, Betty and Ernest Peterkin: while you’re no longer with us, this project brought me closer to you both, and I am eternally grateful. You are loved and missed. v ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS This dissertation is about community, family, and movement. While writing a dissertation in no way compares to the trials and tribulations of the communities studied in this research, there is little question that these themes were also part of the process of writing, researching, and surviving this process. I owe a tremendous debt to many people, and I want to make sure they are all acknowledged. The archaeological discipline is, after all, a collaborative effort, and I want to ensure that everyone who has touched this project and my experience working on it receives my thanks. This project, and my time at Michigan State University and Historic St. Mary’s City has had particularly personal meaning to me: I grew up in East Lansing, MSU’s home, so I am particularly humbled to receive degrees from this prestigious institution among friends and family. Historic St. Mary’s City also holds special meaning to my family: my grandfather founded the St. Mary’s City militia, a reenacting group at the museum, and was close with many of the people who still work there, and my grandmother and other relatives lived in the area. It is also where I met my wife. Working on this project not only brought me closer to the past we study and helped me grow as a professional, but it also gave me opportunities to live and work in places that have meaning to me and to my family, and for this I am eternally grateful. At Michigan State University, I am forever indebted to my committee. Thank you to my advisor Kenneth Lewis for encouraging me to begin a career in historical archaeology, and to Daina Berry for introducing me to African American history. Thank to Jodie O’Gorman and Helen Pollard for their support and wisdom, and to Tom Summerhill for coming on board in the bottom of the 9th inning. Thank you also to Ethan Watrall for encouraging me to continue work in the digital world, and to Bill Lovis for pointing me towards Historic St. Mary’s City. Thank you also to my undergraduate advisor at Kalamazoo College, Anne Haeckl, for introducing me to archaeology and believing in my abilities. I am tremendously grateful to Lynne Goldstein, who allowed me the opportunity to work as the Campus Archaeologist with the MSU Campus Archaeology Program, a unique chance to study the history of the place I grew up. I am pleased to consider you one of vi my dear friends. Your guidance, friendship, and leadership has been instrumental in shaping who I am as an archaeologist, professional, and person. I have many individuals to thank throughout the University, particularly Denise Maybank, Kelly Schweda, and Toni Fredline at the Department of Student Life, and Jayne Schuiteman at the MSU Women’s Resource Center, for providing a wonderful opportunity to work with the MSU Sexual Assault and Relationship Violence Prevention Program: while unrelated to my research, the opportunity to help build a program of such importance in my hometown was a humbling one, and to work with such wonderful colleagues who are making MSU a better, safer place was inspiring. Thank you to Karen Klomparens and the staff at the MSU graduate school for their support, financially and otherwise. I have tremendous debts to my fellow Anthropology graduate students with whom I shared classes, beers, heartache, milestones, study sessions, and excavations: Duane Quates, Chris Stawski, Chris Valvano, Charlotte Cable, Erica Dziedzic, Megan McCullen, Heather Mustonen, Sean Dunham, Jubin Cheruvil, James Bielo, Sean Dunham, and Jane Wankmiller to name only a few. And also to those many other amazing people at Michigan State and East Lansing who make our community special: Ryan and Jessica Knott, Leigh Wolf, Scott Westerman, and Elizabeth Battiste. I am also grateful for the many archaeology graduate students I’ve met on Twitter over the years, and who I feel like made this journey with me. Thanks to Lorna Richarson, John Roby, Carl Carlson-Drexler, Amber Weiss, Colleen Morgan, and many, many others for the encouragement, the conversation, the study breaks, and the RTs. Thank you to Jo VanEvery and everyone who called in every Monday for Meeting With Your Writing. Thank you also to the many scholars who have lent me their ear at conferences, provided thoughtful input, bought me a drink, and provided professional support during these first years of my career. While you may not realize it, your kind words and support meant everything to a young scholar trying to find his way in a new discipline: thank you Paul Mullins, Mark Warner, Carol McDavid, Theresa Singleton, Maria Franklin, Cheryl LaRoche, Patricia Samford, James Delle, Jamie Brandon, Julie King, Kim Faulk, Annalies Corbin, Chris McDaid, Sarah Miller, Shawn Graham, Andy Williams, Lisa Fischer, Nick Lucketti, Garret vii Fesler, Matt Laird, David Brown, Mark Kostro, Hank Lutton, Thane Harpole, and Matt Reeves. I look forward to many more years collaborating and working with all of you. And thank you to the special scholars and public historians who I have met along the way, particularly Joseph McGill, Nicole Moore, and Michael Twitty for working on the front lines and bringing the African American past to life, for encouraging my work, and teaching me about the importance of doing it publicly. In Virginia, I was welcomed into a number of communities. Thank you to Taylor Stoermer for offering me visiting scholar status at Colonial Williasmburg’s Rockefeller Library and his encouragement through this process. I am also grateful to Lisa Fischer, the director of Colonial Williamsburg’s Digital History Center, for her assistance and tutoring with GIS analysis on this project, as well as the digital exhibit. At University of Richmond I want to thank Kimberley Britt Klinker, John Scrivani, and Andrew Pericak at the Spatial Analysis Lab, Scott Nesbit at the Digital Scholars Lab and President Edward Ayers for the opportunity to use your resources and to be a small part of your intellectual community. Of course, no dissertation can be completed without funding and research help from a number of institutions. Thank you to the SRI Foundation for their generous Dissertation Completion Fellowship and the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation for their Fellowship in African American History and Culture. Thank you to the Ford Foundation and the National Trust for Historic Preservation for their funding of the digital exhibit, and to the Maryland Commission for African American History and Culture for their support of the research and the development of a physical exhibit at the Duplex Quarter Site. Thank you to The Institute for Museum, Preservation, and Archaeological Research Training and the Maryland Higher Education Commission for a summer IMPART Fellowship, and to Jefferson Patterson Park and Museum and the Maryland Archaeological Conservation Lab, particularly Mike Smolek and Patricia Samford, for making these funds available. Thank you to Burt Kummerow and the Maryland Historical Society, and Ed Papenfuse and his staff at the Maryland State Archives. Thank you to Peter Himmelheber and the wonderful volunteers at the St. Mary’s County Historical Society, and the staff at the National Archives in Washington, viii D.C. Thank you to the marvelous staff at the Michigan State University Library, for making their resources accessible from anywhere on earth. I am in tremendous and eternal debt to everyone at Historic St. Mary’s City, a place of great importance to my family. Thank you to the members of the research and archaeology division: Silas Hurry, Timothy Riordan, Ruth Mitchell, and Don Winter. Thank you for the support, guidance, and friendship. Thank you for showing me the ropes, teaching me about archaeology, and introducing me to St. Mary’s City. I would also like to thank HSMC’s director, Regina Faden, who has championed and supported this research and the story it tells. Without her support, the opportunities to present this story to the public would not have happened. And of course, thank you to Porzia Purves, Susan Wilkinson, Muffin Padukiweicz, Peter Rivers, Will Gates, Peter Friesen, Susan Erichsen, Nancy Scheffler and everyone else on the St. Mary’s staff for your friendship and help with anything and everything. It was also a special privilege to get to know and befriend Wes Willoughby and Scott Tucker, two other graduate students working on their dissertations at St. Mary’s, as well as the number of field school students and St. Mary’s field technicians who I had the chance to meet along the way, and to those who conducted the superb excavations of the site that made up the bulk of this dissertation. Lastly but certainly not least, I will always owe much of my career to Henry Miller for entrusting me with this data, believing in my ability to complete the task, and supporting me every step of the way. I know my grandfather would be overjoyed that we have become friends and colleagues, and know that your generosity towards me and my family will be forever appreciated. Being able to do this work in St. Mary’s, near to my grandmother and at the place my grandfather cared so deeply for, has been an experience that I will never cherish forever. Of course, I am grateful to my family. To my aunts Nancy and Lucy and their families: it was a joy to spend so much time in Maryland and get to see you so often. To Alex and Leigh and Steve and Paula: I’m so happy these past years have brought us closer together. To my best friend, Dan Speiser: now we’ve both made it, who’d have thought? To my always supportive and forever compassionate mother, my wise, strong, and kind father, and my talented and humorous ix sister: Thank you for everything. I am a lucky son and brother to have a family like ours. To Penny the Dog, my constant writing companion for the past three years: thank you for protecting the house, fending off UPS delivery men, and your unyielding love. To my miraculous, beautiful, and brilliant wife Ashleigh, who I would have never met if I’d never moved to St. Mary’s City for a summer in 2007: I love you. Thank you. I could never have done this without you. You are my favorite. Through the process of working on this project, I was brought closer to my late grandfather, Ernest Peterkin, through meeting his friends and colleagues, and by working at a place that meant so much to him during his life. Thank you in particular to Henry Miller, Burt Kummerow, Scott Sheeds, and Al Saguto for bringing me closer to him through our meetings and your friendships. This project also brought me closer to my grandmother, who I had the great fortune of being able to live with for almost half a year while conducting portions of this research, and who passed away only a few months prior to its completion. Our time as roommates in her retirement community were a treasure I will never forget, and I am so grateful I was able to spend that time learning about her amazing and beautiful life. We all miss you both. Of course, this research would not be possible if not for the hundreds of individuals and families who lived, worked, struggled, fought, and survived at St. Mary’s City during the 19th and 20th century. Studying the past is a tremendous responsibility, and in archaeology it can be easy to lose the people from the objects. I have tried to keep you in the foreground of my thoughts and work every day, since it is your story I have been charged to tell. To the Butlers, Biscoes, Whalens, Goughs, Gross’s, Hopewells, Summerhills, Bennetts, Braxtons, Lees, Whaltons, and Milburns, and the countless individuals who’s names have been lost to the past: thank you for entrusting me with your story. I am humbled every day by the obstacles you overcame, and grateful to you for giving my life perspective and my work meaning. I go to sleep each night hoping I have done, and will continue to do, your story justice. x TABLE OF CONTENTS LIST OF TABLES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xv LIST OF FIGURES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xvii CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION . . . . . 1.1 Economic Growth and Emancipation 1.2 Theory, Model, and Questions . . . 1.3 Analysis and Discussion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 4 5 6 CHAPTER 2 ECONOMIC GROWTH AND THE PROCESS OF EMANCIPATION . 2.1 Economic Growth, Agriculture, and Industrialization in the 19th century . . . . . . 2.1.1 The South . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.1.2 The West . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.1.3 The North . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.1.4 The Civil War and Late 19th Century . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.2 The Process of Emancipation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.2.1 Negotiating Space and Time in Agricultural Slavery . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.2.2 A New System: Time and Space in Post-Slavery Southern Agriculture . . . 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 16 24 CHAPTER 3 ECONOMIC GROWTH AND EMANCIPATION IN MARYLAND 3.1 Industrialization, Agriculture, and the Problem with Labor in Maryland . . . . 3.1.1 St. Mary’s County: A Southern Economy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.2 The Process of Emancipation in Maryland . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.2.1 Time and Space on the Maryland Slave Plantation . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.2.2 Emancipation and Freedom in Maryland . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . CHAPTER 4 4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4 4.5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A MODEL OF PLANTATION LANDSCAPE AND HOUSEHOLD CHANGE FROM SLAVERY TO FREEDOM . . . . . . . . . . . . Freedom and Agency . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . What is Landscape? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Plantation Landscape . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.3.1 Multiple Plantation Landscapes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Household . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A Spatial Plantation Model of the Transition from Slavery To Freedom . . . . . 4.5.1 On the Plantation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.5.2 The Plantation Proper . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.5.3 The Labor Sphere . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.5.4 The African American Domestic Sphere . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.5.5 The Wilderness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.5.6 Outside the Plantation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.5.6.1 Spaces Off the Plantation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xi . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 34 40 44 45 51 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56 57 59 62 64 71 74 75 75 76 78 79 80 81 4.5.6.2 Spaces On the Plantation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82 CHAPTER 5 DATA AND RESEARCH QUESTIONS . . . . . 5.1 Archaeological Data . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.1.1 “Mattapany Path” Road System Survey . . . . . . 5.1.2 Search for the “Citty of Saint Maries” Project . . . 5.1.3 The Single and Duplex Quarter . . . . . . . . . . . 5.1.3.1 Leonard Calvert Survey . . . . . . . . . 5.1.3.2 Duplex Quarter Relocation Project . . . 5.1.3.3 The Slave Quarter/Printshop Excavations 5.2 Architectural and Environmental Features . . . . . . . . . 5.3 Historical Data . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.4 Research Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . CHAPTER 6 6.1 6.2 6.3 6.4 6.5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . THE CHANGING PLANTATION LANDSCAPE AT ST. MANOR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Identifying 19th-century sites at St. Mary’s Manor . . . . . . . . . . 6.1.1 Ceramics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.1.2 Cut and Wire Nails . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.1.3 Window Glass . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.1.4 Bottle Glass . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . St. Mary’s Manor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Agricultural Complex . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The African American Domestic Complex . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Off the Plantation: The Landscape of St. Mary’s City . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85 86 86 87 88 88 89 91 94 95 96 MARY’S . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106 108 109 113 113 114 115 117 119 145 CHAPTER 7 BROME’S PLANTATION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.1 The Slave Plantation: Power and Control, Prestige and Performance . . . . . . 7.1.1 The Growing Plantation: Agriculture and the Slave Trade at St. Mary’s Manor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.1.2 A Landscape of Control . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.1.2.1 The Plantation Proper . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.1.2.2 Inside the Manor Home . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.1.3 Off the Plantation: Maintaining a Slave Society . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.2 The Performative Landscape: Building on the Past . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.2.1 The Manor Home . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.2.2 The Memorial Landscape . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.3 The Civil War: A Disrupted Landscape . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.3.1 Brome’s Wharf and Smuggling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.3.2 The Weakening Landscape of Power . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.3.2.1 The Union Presence Off the Plantation . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.3.2.2 The Union Presence at St. Mary’s Manor . . . . . . . . . . . 7.4 The Shifting Landscape: St. Mary’s Manor after the Civil War . . . . . . . . . 7.4.1 Renegotiating African American Labor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7.4.2 New Agriculture: The Grange and Modernization . . . . . . . . . . . . xii . . 155 . . 155 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 156 169 169 173 178 180 180 183 194 195 197 197 199 203 203 213 CHAPTER 8 8.1 8.2 8.3 8.4 SPACES AND PLACES ON THE AFRICAN AMERICAN PLANTATION LANDSCAPE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Redefining the African American House . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.1.1 Expanding and Protecting Living Space . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.1.1.1 Inside the Dwelling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.1.1.2 The Yardspace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.1.2 Architectural Modifications . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Manor Home: Defining Black Spaces within a House of Bondage . . . . . The Wilderness: Nutrition, Escape, and Community . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.3.1 The St. Mary’s River . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.3.2 Key Swamp . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8.3.3 Mattapany Path . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Reuse and Redefinition of Plantation Space . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . CHAPTER 9 9.1 9.2 THE AFRICAN AMERICAN PLANTATION: FROM COMMUNITY TO FAMILY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Slave Trade and the Enslaved Household . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.1.1 Enslaved Families and Dwellings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.1.2 The Flexible Household . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . From a Flexible Household to a Family Household: Emancipation and Freedom after the Civil War . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.2.1 One Family, One Dwelling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.2.2 The Family as a Household . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.2.2.1 Settlement Patterns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.2.2.2 Production . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9.2.2.3 The Expanding Single Family Household . . . . . . . . . . . . CHAPTER 10 THE AFRICAN AMERICAN COMMUNITY IN ST. MARY’S CITY 10.1 The Enslaved Community: On and Among Plantations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.2 Mobility and the Post-Emancipation Regional Landscape . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.2.1 “The Colored People Have Given Liberally”: Black Education in St. Mary’s County . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.2.2 "All of us Would Walk Together": The African American Church in St. Mary’s City . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10.2.3 Building Community in Independent Towns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . CHAPTER 11 CONCLUSION . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11.1 The Restricted Plantation Landscape . . . . . . . 11.2 The Civil War . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11.3 Post-Emancipation and the Separated Landscape . 11.4 Freedom and Space . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11.5 Implications and Future Research . . . . . . . . . 11.5.1 The Enslaved Landscapes . . . . . . . . . 11.5.2 Off the Plantation . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11.5.3 Inside the Dwelling . . . . . . . . . . . . xiii . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 219 220 221 221 230 236 246 251 252 255 256 259 . . . . 261 262 263 271 . . . . . . 278 278 282 283 284 289 . 294 . 295 . 299 . 300 . 306 . 308 . . . . . . . . . 317 318 320 321 322 323 323 324 325 11.6 The 21st Century Landscape of St. Mary’s Manor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 326 APPENDICES . . APPENDIX A APPENDIX B APPENDIX C APPENDIX D . . . . . . . . . . . . CERAMIC TYPES 1870 U.S. CENSUS 1880 U.S. CENSUS 1867 LIST . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 328 329 331 335 338 BIBLIOGRAPHY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 341 BIBLIOGRAPHY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 342 xiv LIST OF TABLES Table 6.1 Ceramic Decoration Types and Dates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 110 Table 6.2 Duplex Ceramics by time period. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123 Table 6.3 Total number of pearlware and white ware ceramics at the duplex. . . . . . . . . 123 Table 6.4 Bottle glass color from the duplex quarter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124 Table 6.5 Nail types at the duplex quarter. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124 Table 6.6 Ceramics by date at the single quarter. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128 Table 6.7 Pearlware and white ware at the single quarter. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128 Table 6.8 Bottle glass color at the single quarter. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129 Table 6.9 Artifact counts at component 141C. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131 Table 6.10 Ceramics by time at component 141C. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132 Table 6.11 Pearlware and white ware at component 141C. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132 Table 6.12 Bottle glass color at component 141C. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133 Table 6.13 Nail types at component 141C . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133 Table 6.14 Artifact types at component 141E. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134 Table 6.15 Ceramics by date at component 141E. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134 Table 6.16 Pearlware to white ware at component 141E. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135 Table 6.17 Bottle glass color at component 141E. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135 Table 6.18 Nail types at component 141E. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135 Table 6.19 Artifact types at component 143B. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136 Table 6.20 Ceramics by date at component 143B. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137 Table 6.21 Pearlware and white ware from component 143B . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137 Table 6.22 Bottle glass color from component 143B. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137 xv Table 6.23 Nail types from component 143B. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138 Table 6.24 Artifact types from component 139C. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138 Table 6.25 Ceramics by date in component 139C. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138 Table 6.26 Pearlware and white ware in component 139C. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139 Table 6.27 Bottle glass color at component 139C. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139 Table 6.28 Nail types at component 139C. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139 Table 6.29 Artifact types at component 139B. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140 Table 6.30 Ceramics by date at component 139B. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140 Table 6.31 Pearlware and white ware at component 139B . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 Table 6.32 Bottle glass color at component 139B. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 Table 6.33 Nail type at component139B. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 Table 6.34 Occupation dates for slave and tenant quarters at St. Mary’s Manor. . . . . . . . 143 Table 7.1 Information from the 1850 and 1860 U.S. Agricultural Census regrading Dr. John Brome’s agricultural output . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157 Table 7.2 The enslaved population owned by John Brome from 1840 through the Civil War. 160 Table 7.3 The number of slaves who left and were added between the year of 1850 and 1860 by age and gender. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 165 Table 7.4 The 1870 and 1880 U.S. Agricultural Census. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 209 Table .1 Ceramic types at slave and tenant quarter sites. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 330 Table .2 1870 US Census of John Brome and African American Households in St. Mary’s County. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 334 Table .3 1880 US Census of John Brome and African American Households in St. Mary’s County. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 337 Table .4 1867 List of enslaved property lost by John Brome during the Civil War. . . . . . 340 xvi LIST OF FIGURES Figure 6.1 St. Mary’s City with environmental features identified. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107 Figure 6.2 Left: The north side of St. Mary’s Manor, showing the telescoping pattern towards the east. Right: the teardrop shaped driveway from the front porch of St. Mary’s Manor. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 116 Figure 6.3 A map from 1981 showing the manor home, outbuildings, and surrounding yardspace. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 116 Figure 6.4 The St. Mary’s Plantation landscape in 1934, showing the remaining buildings. 118 Figure 6.5 The duplex and single quarter in the 1890s. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119 Figure 6.6 The single quarter, with the duplex in the background, taken in 1892. . . . . . . 121 Figure 6.7 The duplex quarter is shown ca. 1910. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 122 Figure 6.8 Outline shows the foundations of the single quarter, chimney, and the interior brick lined subfloor pit. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126 Figure 6.9 The single quarter appears in the background of this photo, and is shown in disrepair. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127 Figure 6.10 This map shows archaeological components identified in Miller et al. (2006). In the report, they were identified as components dating from 1840 to 1900. . . 130 Figure 6.11 The layout of 17th century St. Mary’s City as presented in (Miller et al., 2006). 146 Figure 6.12 Trinity Church’s original construction, as it stood from 1829 to 1889. . . . . . . 148 Figure 6.13 The Trinity Church ca. 1910. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149 Figure 6.14 A sketch of the Mulberry Tree drawn in 1852 that hung in St. Mary’s Manor. . . 150 Figure 6.15 The Female Seminary ca. 1910, with the Trinity Church on the left. . . . . . . . 151 Figure 6.16 Brome’s wharf, likely taken after it was rebuilt in 1874 due to the addition of a warehouse. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152 Figure 7.1 Slave growth over time and divided by gender. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161 Figure 7.2 Enslaved women by age over time. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163 xvii Figure 7.3 Enslaved men by age over time. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 166 Figure 7.4 The plantation landscape in 1860, showing the placement of the slave quarters in relation to the manor home and agricultural buildings. . . . . . . . . . . 171 Figure 7.5 The first floor of the manor home, showing its architectural features in 1993. . . 174 Figure 7.6 Distribution of 19th century bottle glass and ceramics via (Miller et al., 2006). . 176 Figure 7.7 A party in 1892 after the dedication of the Calvert Memorial shows the waterside of the Brome residence. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 177 Figure 7.8 A photo from 1934 shows the visibility of the manor home from approaching ships. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181 Figure 7.9 Photo of seminary students arriving at Brome’s Wharf. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187 Figure 7.10 The manor home serves as the central axis between the memorial and plantation landscape. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 188 Figure 7.11 The division of the memorial and plantation landscape at the household scale. . 189 Figure 7.12 The division of the memorial and plantation landscape at the yard scale. . . . . 190 Figure 7.13 The 1860 landscape with the 17th century landscape superimposed overtop, indicating the location of the Country’s House and Brome’s manor home. . . . . 191 Figure 7.14 Left: foundation of the Country’s House (blue) located underneath the foundation of Brome’s smokehouse (green); Right: 1840 shovel trench (yellow) excavated over Country’s House foundation (blue) before construction of smokehouse (green). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 192 Figure 7.15 A fragment of a bowl from the Landing of Columbus Series, produced during the 1830s by William Adams. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 193 Figure 7.16 The plantation landscape in 1870, showing the increased number of houses for African American families. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 205 Figure 7.17 This photo from the 1890s shows glass windows on the front of the duplex quarter. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 206 Figure 7.18 This map shows the location of the schoolhouse in 1910 . . . . . . . . . . . . . 207 Figure 7.19 The plantation landscape in 1880. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211 Figure 7.20 The plantation landscape ca. 1935. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 216 Figure 8.1 A photograph of the excavations of the subfloor pit in the duplex quarter. . . . . 222 xviii Figure 8.2 The outline of the single quarter foundation and subfloor pit. . . . . . . . . . . 223 Figure 8.3 The single and duplex quarter in the 1890s. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 224 Figure 8.4 A photograph of the passageway between the two sides of the duplex quarter. . 225 Figure 8.5 The north side of the single quarter. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 226 Figure 8.6 Photograph from 1910s of the duplex quarter, with the single quarter in the background in disrepair. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 227 Figure 8.7 An aerial photograph of St. Mary’s City in 1934 shows the duplex quarter with a shed addition extending off its rear. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 228 Figure 8.8 This image from 1979 shows the outline of where the addition attached to the rear of the duplex quarter after it was removed. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 229 Figure 8.9 The sampled units for distribution analysis. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 Figure 8.10 Distribution of decorated ceramics dating to pre 1865. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 232 Figure 8.11 Distribution of decorated ceramics dating to post 1865 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233 Figure 8.12 Distribution of undecorated white ware. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 235 Figure 8.13 Division of units selected for chimney (blue), wall (yellow), and interior (green) units at the single quarter. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239 Figure 8.14 Charts showing the percentage of nails in Wall, Chimney, and Interior units by nail type and stratigraphic layer. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 240 Figure 8.15 Units used to sample window glass . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241 Figure 8.16 Window glass thickness correlated to time of two units along the southern wall of the single quarter. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241 Figure 8.17 Window glass thickness correlated to time of Unit 433A at the rear of the duplex quarter. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 Figure 8.18 Window glass thickness correlated to time of Unit 462A at the rear of the duplex quarter. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 243 Figure 8.19 Window glass thickness correlated to time from Unit 404D at the rear of the duplex quarter. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244 Figure 8.20 Window glass thickness correlated to time from all units at the rear of the duplex quarter. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244 xix Figure 8.21 This LiDar image of St. Mary’s City shows the Mattapany Path, highlighted in yellow, north of St. Mary’s College. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 257 Figure 9.1 The single and duplex quarter ca. 1890s. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264 Figure 9.2 A map of the duplex quarter with excavation units and features and the subfloor pit highlighted. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 Figure 9.3 Map of the single quarter foundation showing the subfloor pit outline in the center of the structure. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266 Figure 9.4 Related family units based on the 1867 List and 1870 Census. . . . . . . . . . . 267 Figure 9.5 A slave runaway advertisement written by Brome in 1861. . . . . . . . . . . . . 269 Figure 9.6 Fenclines in the rear yard show very little discernible pattern. A possible sketch of a fence line is shown, perhaps demarcating a rear fence and pen for livestock. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 272 Figure 9.7 Photograph of the duplex quarter ca. 1910s with fences in the front and rear yard.273 Figure 9.8 Distribution of decorated ceramics dating to before 1865. . . . . . . . . . . . . 274 Figure 9.9 Distribution of decorated ceramics dating to after 1865. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 275 Figure 9.10 Distribution of white ware ceramics. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 276 Figure 9.11 This photograph was taken from the rear yard of the manor home, showing the visibility of the single quarter’s chimney. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 277 Figure 9.12 The makeup of different dwellings and the families living within them. . . . . . 279 Figure 9.13 The plantation landscape from 1870 shows additional households in addition to the former slave quarters. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 280 Figure 9.14 The coresident groups in two dwellings on the 1880 census. . . . . . . . . . . . 281 Figure 9.15 The plantation landscape ca. 1880 showing a dramatic decrease in the amount of housing available for laborers. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 282 Figure 9.16 A high concentration of buttons exist within the single quarter in all three levels. The chart shows the breakdown of buttons per level, indicating the highest quantity is coming from Level 2. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 286 Figure 9.17 This chart shows buttons found at comparable sites in Maryland. . . . . . . . . 287 Figure 9.18 The plantation landscape in 1935, after the sale of most of the land and the transition of the plantation into a farm. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 289 xx Figure 9.19 Distribution of decorated ceramics dating after 1865 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 291 Figure 10.1 The plantation landscape at St. Mary’s Manor in 1860 shows that slave quarters were aligned with areas of work, but not separated from each other. . . . . . 296 Figure 10.2 This map shows the voting districts in Charles, Ann Arundel, and St. Mary’s Counties. The First District, also called the "St. Inigoes" District, is labeled. . . 312 Figure 10.3 Black and white individuals enumerated by day in Maryland’s First Election district in 1870. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 313 Figure 10.4 Black and white individuals enumerated by day in Maryland’s First Election District in 1880. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 314 xxi CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION I went to Zion Methodist Church...and we walked...we walked. We had to leave home by 9:30 and got there by 11 o’clock. It was a hoot...you know how you walk and you meet up with the next group of children? All of us would walk together (Hall, 1998). Emma Hall’s recollection of her journey to church with her friends and family encapsulates two critical elements of how African Americans defined their freedom from slavery: mobility and community. From the transatlantic and domestic slave trade, to escaping their bondage, to leaving rebuilding families after the Civil War, to the Great Migration, to marching on Washington, African Americans have fought their bondage and its restriction on one of the basic human rights: the freedom to move. The counter to these restrictions has been family and community, whether it was the Underground Railroad, the Civil War Contraband Camps, or the African American Church, “walking together” has been a constant theme in the struggle for survival, equality, and to define one’s freedom. Achieving and defining freedom has been a constant process throughout African American history. During slavery, enslaved African Americans sought freedom on various scales and in different ways. This included escaping their bondage, passing information among friends, or reusing a yardspace in a culturally significant way. During the Civil War and after Emancipation, when freedom from slavery had been achieved, African Americans began defining that freedom by establishing new churches, marrying their spouses, and reconstituting their families. Space was critical 1 to both of these periods, and this research seeks to understand how actions by African Americans manifest in the cultural landscape. Archaeologically, these themes fit into a broader disciplinary approach to the material record through cultural landscapes. The conceptualization of space as a social unit, both shaped by and shaping the individuals and groups that live and interact upon it, is integral to the understanding of human culture, particularly in the past. Families, communities, and individuals from different social, economic, and cultural contexts interact, modify, and been shape the landscapes they inhabit, and these interactions can be manifest in the material record. Plantations are no exception, and provide an ideal backdrop to examine these interactions. This research will address these concepts by looking at the cultural landscape of one slave plantation in St. Mary’s City, Maryland, and its transition from slavery to freedom. The study of the post-Emancipation period has only recently become a topic of interest in archaeology. While this study’s primary objective is to study the lives of those who underwent the transition, it also aims to begin asking questions about the period after slavery that we know so little about. The material record is ideally suited for this type of study: we are a discipline that studies change through time, and we are particularly well-suited for examining the cultures and experiences of people who lacked access to the written record. In this case, both strengths are required. Additionally, the late-19th century is a particularly important, yet often ignored, period of history. The decisions made following the Civil War inform our contemporary understanding of race, since it was during that time that racism flourished, segregation was established, and many of the inequalities that existed during slavery were perpetuated, reinforced, and institutionalized into American society. It was also when so many of the institutions that are of value to the African American community, such as the African American church, came into being. Understanding these cultural landscapes, and the forces that shaped them, can provide a better understanding of our current cultural landscape. 2 While the story of slavery begins much earlier at St. Mary’s City, this research will begin in 1840, when Dr. John Mackall Brome inherited over 1,400 acres from his father. At twenty-two years old, Brome began constructing one of the largest tobacco and wheat plantation in St. Mary’s County’s First District. It would grow to amass 1,800 acres, and would double its enslaved population to upwards of 60 African Americans by the Civil War. Brome’s ambitions were great, and his plantation landscape, and how he controlled and displayed it, were paramount to his success. So was maintaining the system of slavery, which came to end in 1864. For Brome, this could have been devastating, particularly considering the accompanying slump in demand for Maryland tobacco during the 1870s, and he made every effort to rebuild his landscape in a new way. Of course, the changes, decisions, and investments that Brome made affected the lives of enslaved and free African Americans who lived at St. Mary’s Manor. Investments in certain types of agriculture could lead to increases or decreases of labor, which in turn could result in the sale or acquisition of African Americans. Moving away from agriculture after Emancipation could mean less opportunity for work for tenant or sharecropping families. While these decisions did not strip African Americans of their agency, it did restrict the types of choices that they could make, or increased the risk involved in making certain choices. Slavery and post-slavery became delicate negotiations between the planter and laborer, and these actions played out on and off the plantation landscape. Maryland itself provides a unique context for studying this transition. Maryland had an unusual demographic among slaveholdings states, with a large free black population, and relatively smaller slave plantations then in other states. Maryland’s mixed economy, the emerging industry in the northern part of the state, and the participation in exporting slaves through the domestic slave trade during the 19th century draws a sharp contrast to other states further south, who were importing slaves. During the Civil War, Maryland remained a member of the Union, developing a particularly unique context in Southern Maryland during the War. And after Emancipation, the decision to move even further from cash crop agriculture makes for a cultural landscape that differed greatly from other areas that have received study on this period. 3 This dissertation seeks to understand how Brome and the enslaved and free laborers who worked and lived on his plantation negotiated their changing relationships, and how these negotiations are manifest in the cultural landscape. Most importantly, it examines how these negotiations changed through time, and how these groups responded and adapted to the new economic and social context of their lives after the Civil War. To do this, the dissertation has been divided into three sections. The first, including Chapters 2 and 3, introduces the historical context of the American and Maryland economy during the 19th century and the conditions of slavery, emancipation, and post-slavery. The second, including Chapters 4 and 5 addresses the archaeological theory and approach to cultural landscapes, and presents a model for examining landscapes during and after slavery, presents the data to be used for this study, and a set of research questions. The third section, Chapters 6 through 10 conduct the analysis of these questions. 1.1 Economic Growth and Emancipation The 19th-century American context provides the backdrop for this study. During this period, two major social processes were underway. First, the United States was expanding geographically and economically. Agriculture, manufacturing, and westward expansion segregated the nation’s economic map into three distinct geographic sections. In the northeast, manufacturing and industry began to take hold; in the south, cash crop agriculture, particularly cotton, was the primary investment; the expansion westward began to introduce new transportation routes to the south and northeast, and became the breadbasket of America through its high production of wheat. These patterns continued throughout the century, and distinct relationships to different systems of labor and differing views about the future of the country. The topic of economic growth will be examined in Chapter 2. Another process that emerged during this period was the process of Emancipation. This process emerged through the system of enslavement, and is also examined in Chapter 2. For African Americans, this process was continual throughout the 19th-century, and represents their continued 4 struggle to gain their freedom from bondage during slavery, and to define their own independence after the Civil War. This process is inherently tied to their relationship with white Americans, since these groups in a constant struggle for power and control. Chapter 3 examines these processes in the state of Maryland, where this research takes place. Maryland provides a unique test case for understanding the lives of African Americans and agricultural plantations in the United States, since it operated in the “middle ground” between the North and South (Fields, 1985). This effected its relationship to the larger American economy, in addition to its enslaved and free African American plantation. Southern Maryland, the location of this study, provides an even more refined scale to examine these tensions: while much of the rest of Maryland moved away from enslaved labor and tobacco, Southern Maryland continued to operate enslaved plantation agriculture. This created tension within the State, and placed slaveholding planters, and subsequently the African Americans who they held in bondage, in a unique position when the Civil War approached. 1.2 Theory, Model, and Questions Chapter 4 discuss the theoretical and methodological approaches to the study. It introduces the use of landscape analysis for archaeological inquiry on plantations, discusses an agency-based approach to examining freedom and the material record, and establishes this study’s use of terms relating to the household, family, and community. There is also a general survey of literature and archaeological studies that have examined plantation landscapes during and after slavery. The chapter closes by introducing a plantation spatial model of the transition from slavery to freedom in Southern Maryland to use as a basis for understanding the way plantations were used by planters and lived in by African Americans during and after slavery. This model divides the plantation landscape into five areas, and borrows from the work of other scholars who have built similar models of slave plantations (Battle-Baptiste, 2011): the plantation proper, the domestic sphere, areas of work, the wilderness, and spaces off the plantation. These spaces provide areas of exploration to examine the different ways space was used and negotiated by laborers and planters. 5 Chapter 5 introduces the location of our study, a plantation in St. Mary’s City, Maryland, and discusses the variety of archaeological, historical, and architectural evidence that will be used in this study. Excavations have been conducted by Historic St. Mary’s City at this site for over forty years, resulting in a number of data sets and historical records about the people who lived on this plantation, and additional information has been generated for this project through oral histories, refined artifact analysis, and archival research, revealing a robust and diverse set of information. The chapter closes with a series of research questions focused on understanding how the plantation landscape at St. Mary’s Manor changed through time. Of particular interest are the ways that Brome uses his plantation as a landscape of control and performance; how African Americans reused spaces on the plantation to form their own landscape; and how the household and community changed after Emancipation. 1.3 Analysis and Discussion The final chapters of the dissertation address the five research questions posed in Chapter 5. Chapter 6 examines the landscape of the study area through time, focusing on identifying periods of occupation and use for the various spaces on the plantation. Chapter 7 examines this changing landscape from the perspective of John Brome, with a particular focus on how he used the plantation as a landscape of control and performance, and how his strategies changed through time. Chapters 8, 9, and 10 examine the changing landscape from the African American perspective. Chapter 8 looks at the strategies employed by enslaved African Americans to reuse spaces on and off the plantation to develop an alternative plantation landscape, and how their strategies changed after Emancipation. Chapter 9 examines the changing African American household during and after slavery, and the complex relationship between dwellings, families, and households that were developed due to the slave trade and its abolishment. Lastly, Chapter 10 examines the way enslaved and free African Americans used space to build communities, and how the spaces used for plantations changed through time. The dissertation will close with a summary of the findings, and address a number of opportunities for new research, implications of this comparative work on the 6 discipline, and a discussion about the future of this 19th-century landscape as an interpretive space at Historic St. Mary’s City. 7 CHAPTER 2 ECONOMIC GROWTH AND THE PROCESS OF EMANCIPATION By 1840, when Dr. Brome inherited his father’s land and began designing his plantation, the United States was divided between an industrial North and agricultural South, with westward expansion well underway. This regionally based economic system had affected the lives of African Americans, as these different economies required different types of labor. Cotton growing states in the Deep South required large amounts of enslaved labor while northern states found wage labor to be more profitable and drifted away from the “peculiar institution.” The expansion west, and the introduction of new states to the Union, heightened the tensions, leading to a growing division about the issue of states’ rights to abolish or keep slavery. In the end, the distinctive economic and social systems spawned by slave and free labor could not politically coexist. The end result, the Civil War, fundamentally reordered the political and economic structure of the United States by abruptly terminating slavery. The aftermath brought a wave of change through the entire country, but nowhere was this felt more strongly than in the South. The emancipation of enslaved people was one of the monumental changes brought by the Civil War. It had social, political, and economic implications for African Americans and the planters who had relied on their labor not only to maintain their wealth, but also as a means of quantifying their social status. Despite their newfound freedom from slavery, emancipation did not lessen the challenges for black Americans. They entered a competitive market for work, and faced a series of racist legislative actions that restricted their ability to gain employment, advance in education, 8 or represent themselves politically. While Emancipation came with many new freedoms, blacks continued to rely on families and communities for support and safety. This chapter will examine two processes that are critical to understanding the 19th century in the United States. First, the growing economic systems in the North, South, and West, and how they affected the socioeconomic conditions within their regions and changed after the Civil War. Second, this chapter examines how African Americans were regularly engaged in achieving their own freedom leading up to and during the Civil War, and how these activities continued after the Civil War as they struggled to establish full rights of citizenship in the face of resistance by Southern whites and waning commitment from the Federal government. 2.1 Economic Growth, Agriculture, and Industrialization in the 19th century By the beginning of the Civil War, the United States economy had experienced an unprecedented period of growth since the Revolution. Economic historian Douglass North considered the emergence of cotton as an industrial commodity—first in Great Britain and then in Europe and the Northern United States—to be the engine that sparked the rapid growth of the US economy after the invention of the cotton gin in 1793. The impact on the US was profound, ultimately creating a set of interdependent, highly specialized regional economies in the Northeast, South, and West. Starting with the South, where planters rapidly shifted agricultural production from tobacco and other products to cotton, each region took advantage of three important variables—the “natural endowments of the region; the character of the export industry; and changes in technology and transfer costs”—to benefit from the global demand for cotton (North, 1966, p. 3). The influx of European capital from the sale of cotton stimulated not only the expansion of cotton economy and plantation slavery in the South, but a thriving domestic market for industrial goods and commercial services (Northeast) and agricultural food products (Midwest) based on free labor. Individuals made investments accordingly. Southern planters invested aggressively in more land and more slaves, expanding into unsettled territories to the west that would make up the Cotton Belt. In 9 the North, entrepreneurs built factories—starting with cotton mills—and expanded investments in shipping, canals, and later railroads to move goods efficiently, ultimately tying the Northeast more closely to the Midwest. Agricultural opportunities in the Midwest stimulated rapid expansion to that region from New England and Europe. Ironically, North points out, mutual benefits of the cotton economy set the three regions on separate trajectories that would escalate sectional tensions by 1850. Ultimately these differences would lead to civil war. 2.1.1 The South The South consisted of the states south of Maryland, stretching westward to the Mississippi. Agricultural production dominated the Southern economy during the first half of the 19th century, much as it had since first settlement by Europeans in the early 1600s. While other staple crops, particularly tobacco in Southern Maryland, Virginia and North Carolina, and rice in South Carolina, were still produced, global demand had declined since the 18th century. Cotton specialization characterized the southern economy, highlighted by the invention of the cotton gin, and the growth of enslaved labor. The 1830s were the most expansive years of the cotton boom, when profits from exports grew from $25 million in 1831 to $70 million in 1836. The exports were handled by only a few major port cities. Otherwise, Southern urbanization was muted. Industrialization likewise lagged, as planters purchased finished products from Europe or the Northeast. This was a product of the wealth generated by cotton, which dictated a number of unique characteristics of the South’s social and economic conditions. Above all, Southern planters committed all of their resources to growing cotton to achieve maximum return. They invested heavily in land and slaves to create large farm units in new lands as far west as Louisiana and Texas. The nature of the economy created a wide income gap between the planter class and poor whites. The majority of the income generated by the cotton trade was controlled by the upper class. They either used it to import foodstuffs from the West or acquire manufactured goods from the Northeast to feed and cloth slaves or they used it to buy luxury items to reflect their wealth and station. The lure of profits from the cotton trade provided little incentive 10 for the planter class to invest capital in public education, internal improvements, or industrial development, leading to relatively few urban centers that focused on the exchange of agricultural products and slaves. This stagnated the production of new technology, leaving the South with an elite planter class, widespread poverty, and a dependence on the North and West for foodstuffs and industrial items (North, 1966). The cotton boom in the South, perhaps ironically, fueled a further rationalization of regional economies according to soil, climate, labor availability, access to markets, and global demand (Berlin, 2003). While cotton dominated the economies of the southwestern states and territories, the seaboard states saw a number of changes. The cotton growing regions put pressure on the Carolinas to produce more rice. Further north, particularly in Maryland, Delaware, Kentucky, and Missouri, states began to transition into societies less reliant on large crop production, a response to economic pressures, but also to their geographic context. In Maryland, for example, centuries of tobacco agriculture had depleted the soils, requiring a transition to less intensive crops such as wheat. These states transitioned from “slave societies,” where the social and economic system was entirely reliant on enslaved labor, to “societies with slaves,” where there was less reliance on slavery, but it still existed. The emphasis on slavery is critical as this opened the channels for the domestic slave trade, where slaves from the upper South and eastern seaboard were sold to the cotton growing regions where more labor was required. This second slave trade replaced the TransAtlantic slave trade, abolished in 1808, and became a critical component of the booming southern economy, providing the needed laborers for cotton production, while relinquishing the middle states of excess labor. The process of moving labor into the southwest to feed the production of cotton largely defined the economic system of the South through most of the 19th century (North, 1966; Berlin, 2003). 2.1.2 The West The western frontier was a major part of the American economy during the 19th century. The Louisiana Purchase doubled available land, and the increasing population density in the Northeast 11 and economic disparity in the South made the prospects for better economic opportunities appealing to American farmers. Unfortunately, the West had one major impediment to its inclusion as part of the economic system: the lack of an efficient and cost-effective transportation system. The Appalachian Mountains made access to the ports and industrial centers in the Northeast nearly impossible. The only major trade route available was to the South, where the wheat and grain harvested in the West was shipped down the Mississippi River. This changed between 1843 and 1861 when the construction of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad made the cities of the northeast accessible year round, and opened the markets into the Atlantic (North, 1966). These transportation advances had a dramatic impact on the Western economy, leading to the development of urban centers such as Cincinnati, Louisville, Chicago, and St. Louis. Additionally, the more diversified economic system, in contrast to the South, provided “conditions essential to the rapid development of manufacturing in the post-Civil War period” (North, 1966, p. 135). 2.1.3 The North Industrialization characterized the northeastern economy during the early 19th century, owing to the growth of the domestic market in the South and the West, and development of large urban centers between 1790 and 1815 (North, 1966, p. 166). Urban centers were the product of the early nation’s first economic driver: the ability to export goods while most of Europe engaged in military conflicts. Growing port cities such as Boston, New York, and Philadelphia became epicenters for manufacturing. So too did Baltimore, which developed commercially and industrially after the opening of the B&O Railroad in 1843. After 1815, when Europe began an era of relative peace, the markets for industrial goods in the US domestic market, particularly in the South, began to take off; the cities in the American Northeast were in place to take advantage. By the 1840s, the opening of new transportation routes west added a new market for northern manufacturing. The railroads and canal systems were used to bring in wheat, and to take back manufactured goods: the northeast was supplying the South, West, and European markets. This led 12 to more growth, which increased the demand for more laborers. Fortunately, the major industrial centers were also seaports, meaning that there was an ample supply of European immigrant labor. New laborers were put to work in factories. Industry also begat more industry. For example, the textile industry, of which New England and the Mid-Atlantic accounted for 98 percent of the US production, began to need equipment. Backward linkage industries began to develop, building equipment to supply textile factories (North, 1966). This massive industrial growth, however, depleted the agricultural system and resulted in Northeast and Mid-Atlantic states becoming areas of food deficit. Further, the tremendous output of cereal production in the West put northeastern farmers out of the business of large staple crops, instead relying on perishable goods. The Northeast more than made up for this deficiency with its manufacturing dominance. By 1850, the Northeast accounted for 75 percent of the nation’s employment, and 71 percent of the manufacturing (North, 1966, p. 159). Additionally, with their wealth more evenly distributed, the North produced better educational opportunities and less poverty. 2.1.4 The Civil War and Late 19th Century The Civil War, in the words of Douglass North, was not an “obstacle to growth but an interruption” (North, 1966, p. v). Manufacturing continued to prosper in the Northeast and as the 19th century progressed cities continued to grow. Soon, natural resources such as oil and coal helped develop new industries. The railroad networks continued to expand across the country, making the West an integral part of the Nation’s economic system. The South was devastated by the Civil War. Planters lost money and property, including their primary investment, enslaved labor. Despite this, the war did not lessen demand for cotton, providing the South means for economic recovery. Newly freed African American laborers entered into new agreements with their former owners. They served as wage laborers, tenant farmers, or sharecroppers. These relationships were renegotiated by whites as a way to reestablish the same power relationships that existed prior to the Emancipation. By the 1880s, many of the newfound 13 rights that were given to African Americans had been stripped by local governments. This rapidly expanding economic system had direct and indirect effects on the United States. One particularly effective example is the state of Maryland, which was caught at the crossroads of northern industrial growth and the southern agricultural economy, and was home to Baltimore, one of the major links to the West by the 1850s. The growth experienced in the period between 1815 and 1890 dramatically changed Maryland’s demography, agricultural system, and economic focus. Undoubtedly, these changes affected social relationships between blacks and whites, as well as how their communities developed, formed, and changed. 2.2 The Process of Emancipation Recent historical scholarship has begun to expose gaps in the traditional historical narrative regarding the role of African Americans in the Civil War and Emancipation (Foner, 1988; Hahn, 2003; Penningroth, 2003; Williams, 2005; Whitman, 2007; Glymph, 2008). These scholars have examined the role of African Americans in the Civil War as one of agency, action, and resistance of enslaved southern blacks during the conflict. This narrative examines how enslaved African Americans actively achieved their own freedom by pushing the Union army to make military and legislative decisions in their favor, and thus turning the conflict into one about slavery and freedom. By including this narrative in the historical understanding of the Civil War, historians are gaining a better understanding of the past grounded in day-to-day resistance that occurred regularly during slavery, into the Civil War, and after Emancipation, when the “gulf between the federal government’s plans and life on the ground in the postwar South” became visible (Downs and Downs, 2011). Black Americans, while relieved of the burden of slavery, were still viewed and treated as second or third class citizens, a reality that required additional struggle and resistance. Despite this important focus on the “reality” of the experience on the ground, there is little doubt that the emancipation of African American slaves and their legal establishment as American citizens changed the social boundaries within which black and white Americans coexisted. While the slavery era, particularly leading up to the Civil War, was a complex and carefully negotiated 14 system of give and take between slave and master, the post-slavery era was an equally complex socioeconomic renegotiation between free blacks and whites. For former slaveowners who had been devastated by the Civil War, establishing a new economic system was paramount, while the formerly enslaved were not only attempting to find work, but also rekindling family ties and building communities that were broken during slavery and the war. During the period of reconstruction, whites attempted to reestablish “traditional” relationships through acts of dominance and control, and African Americans reinterpreted their social, political, and economic positions through various strategies of resistance and separation. While the labor relationships were different, the conditions of post-slavery, the methods of exploitation and resistance, and the assumptions about the motives and abilities of blacks and whites were heavily informed by slavery. Examining the post-slavery relationship, therefore, requires a detailed understanding of life before, during, and after the Civil War. Recent scholarship has revisited Emancipation, building a new narrative grounded in the African American experience from slavery through the Civil Rights era (Foner, 1988; Hahn, 2003; Penningroth, 2003; Williams, 2005; Whitman, 2007; Glymph, 2008). These scholars have emphasized themes such as resistance, self-sufficiency, independence, and autonomy in the pursuit of basic political, economic, social, religious, and educational rights. Pursuing these objectives was difficult. African Americans, particularly in agricultural contexts in the South, faced a white cultural understanding of the black body as property. This concept did not die with the end of slavery, but continued through institutionalized racism and the systematic corruption of the 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments by the Supreme Court, which during the 1880s argued that the federal government could not enforce these laws. Instead, their enforcement was left to state and local governments (Blackmon, 2009). Throughout the South, these governments enacted Jim Crow laws, preserved segregation, and allowed domestic terrorists such as the KKK to use fear to maintain white political, social, and economic dominance. These hardships, and the struggle between black families and communities and the white agricultural and governmental institutions, defined the process of emancipation. This process encap- 15 sulates the tightening of restrictions on enslaved and free blacks leading to the Civil War, the War itself, and the post-slavery era. In each instance, blacks and whites engaged in dialectic relationships that pitted dominant white cultural understandings of race versus black concepts of freedom and equality. In all cases, the dominant group adopted strategies to further exploit African Americans for the purpose of profit, while African American families and communities sought to gain or define freedom while minimizing suffering. 2.2.1 Negotiating Space and Time in Agricultural Slavery Slavery, and the need to control enslaved laborers, was predicated on the need for white planters to make a profit on their agricultural pursuits. Regardless of whether it was during slavery or post-slavery, making a profit was dependent on maximizing the efficiency and production of the labor and the land. Time and space, therefore, were two of the most important metrics plantation owners sought to control. For planters, time equated to the time spent by laborers on work, and space is represented by the geographic areas on and around the plantation where laborers lived and worked. Establishing and maintaining control over a laborer’s time and space ensured a maximum return on the planter’s investments. Similarly, enslaved African Americans also sought control over time and space. More time and space allowed them to maximize the amount of control they had over their own lives, and provided opportunities to separate themselves from the omnipresence of slavery. When slaves acquired time or space, they used it to fulfill rights and desires often restricted or neglected through slavery, such as conducting spiritual practices, owning property, raising children, forming families, gathering information, discussing politics or learning to read and write. The process of emancipation, therefore, can be examined through the push and pull between planters and laborers over various elements of time and space. One of the primary means by which planters controlled the space of their slaves was through the slave trade. Through the threat of sale, slaveholders held the power to destroy African American families almost instantly. Slaves had little recourse or ability to resist being sold into the domestic slave trade. For many, particularly on the East coast, the domestic slave trade was a real 16 threat. Demand for enslaved labor reached a new high during the early 19th century in the cotton growing regions in the Southwest, and a burgeoning domestic slave trade began. Slaves from the tobacco growing regions in Maryland, Virginia, and the Carolinas were traded west through the Second Middle Passage (Berlin, 2003). This forced migration tore husbands from wives and parents from children, demonstrating the control planters had over their slaves. The sale of slaves was an inherent control of space: through it, slaveowners demonstrated their ability to determine where, and with whom, enslaved laborers lived. The family, therefore, was a fragile unit of social organization for slaves. Despite the domestic slave trade, African American families were often products of “abroad” marriages, meaning that the husband and wife worked and lived on separate plantations (Nesbit, 2011). Abroad marriages made enslaved families even more fragile, as slaves were more vulnerable to sale because two owners were involved, and the family structure itself was often divided spatially. Marriages that occurred on the same plantation often came with caveats from the owners, insisting that married slaves produce children (White, 1985). Because of the fragmentary nature of many slave families, and the lack of stability within the family, enslaved laborers typically relied more on community relationships than familial ones. This reliance resulted in slaves’ development of extensive community and kin networks within slave villages. Establishing a sense of community provided a relatively stable and supportive organizational structure within a tumultuous and oppressive system. Through these communities slaves shared tasks, ranging from field labor, household work, hunting and fishing, tending gardens, cooking food, mending clothes, practicing religion, and raising children. Slaves also used these networks to gather information, escape bondage, procure goods, and engage in activities of resistance to slavery. When considering the actions of the enslaved within the plantation context, therefore, historians often focus on the ways in which communities acted collectively to resist bondage and negotiate more time and space on the plantation (Blassingame, 1979; Penningroth, 2003). The context of labor highlighted the relationship between the enslaved and their owners and overseers. Because the objective of the plantation was to maximize profit, the labor sphere was a 17 critical space where planters attempted to maintain control over their laborers, be it in the fields, barns, production areas such as the cotton gin or coffee factories, or within the domestic sphere and immediate outbuildings. For agricultural labor, planters and their overseers moved between the task and the gang labor system. In the gang system, laborers woke early in the day, and worked until sunset. The enslaved resisted this system in many ways, but the most effective was through work slowdowns. Because there was no incentive to complete the work, besides avoiding punishment, slaves often worked as slowly as they could get away with when under the gang system. While the gang system monopolized the slave’s time, resistance decreased the quality of that time, resulting in poorer output. The hard, long hours put a tremendous physical strain on the slaves, which reduced their value and had an impact on their production. This led planters to develop a task-based system, in which laborers were given certain tasks to complete during the day. When those tasks were completed, the work day ended. While the tasks often took an entire day, the system had incentive built in: the sooner the slaves completed their tasks, the more time they had to themselves. From the planter’s perspective, despite giving up time, they had more insurance that the time was spent more efficiently. Space in the fields was negotiated by the planters through the use of an overseer or slave driver. This ensured that slaves in the field were always under surveillance and that opportunities for running away or decreasing productivity were reduced. Slaves resisted their presence through various activities, such as feigning sickness to avoid going to work. On a Jamaican plantation, Delle notes that slaves used the plantation hospital (then required by law in Jamaica), as an area of resistance to field labor (Delle, 1998). Women, in particular, appeared to take advantage of this ploy, choosing to “play the lady” to be removed from work (White, 1985, p. 80). The importance of a woman’s health to the planter, reflected in her ability to reproduce, led to a prolonged absence from the field in many instances. Planters did not restrict the use of slave labor to the fields: domestic and “skilled” slaves also served a variety of functions as drivers, cooks, house servants, blacksmiths, coopers, and so on. In many respects, large plantations reflected a small village, and were mostly self-sufficient. Black 18 slaves engaged in many of the necessary trades. The time and space of slaves who worked in the manor home were heavily restricted. Their daily schedule was dictated by the needs of manor home residents. Similarly, their space was tightly managed through proximity to the plantation mistress and her family. As Glymph notes, this resulted in very little opportunity for personal expression or opportunities for overt resistance (Glymph, 2008). In many instances, domestic slaves lived close to or within the manor home, meaning that they were under constant surveillance. Nonetheless, enslaved African Americans used this proximity to their advantage. For example, domestic slaves often had access to better clothing, since they were often visible to the guests of the home. Similarly, they had access to leftovers from meals, improving their diet. This proximity also allowed slaves to gather information. Williams argues that domestic slaves often gathered information about local politics and changes in slave laws that allowed the enslaved population to better survive (Williams, 2005). Enslaved children were often befriended by the children of the household, which sometimes led to them learning to read and write. Similar opportunities arose for slaves who served as carriage drivers or artisan slaves, who were often rented to other plantations to carry out their specific trades. While these opportunities happened under the purview of enslavement, it still expanded their accessible space, which they used to further personal or communal needs by building relationships and gathering information. Despite tight control over the enslaved, African Americans made use of the time and space they did cultivate. Time was often spent near the slave quarters, where the majority of household activity took place. While these small villages were under surveillance by owners or overseers, the quarters were the closest spaces enslaved blacks could call “home” on the plantation grounds (Battle-Baptiste, 2011). Slaves used both the inside and outside of their quarters to live. Every inch of the quarter was used for storage and sleeping, often home to 8 to 12 slaves. Yard spaces were used for household activities such as cooking or chores or social areas. Penningroth notes that this space was of particular importance for displaying property: by using or displaying their goods in public, slaves gained tacit acknowledgment of their possession of goods (Penningroth, 2003). Slaves kept provisional gardens to supplement their diet, and on larger plantations were sometimes 19 given plots of land to cultivate cash crops. In both instances, planters saw advantages to these considerations. Provisional gardens took some of the burden off planters to provide slaves food, while land given for cash crops often had to be cleared of overgrowth. After the slaves worked the land for themselves for a few years, it was then used by the planter, and the slaves were given another fallow field to clear. In this way, planters maximized slaves’ “free time” for clearing future fields. Slaves produced numerous goods to sell at local markets or on steamships (Penningroth, 2003), ranging from baskets and pottery to livestock and crops. In some communities whites often relied on the production of these goods by the slaves, as the South in particular did not produce much in the way of non-agricultural goods (Penningroth, 2003). Despite participating in this secondary economy, slaves were still dreadfully poor. These funds went into slightly bettering slaves’ current conditions and rarely resulted in purchasing their freedom (something that happened only with the owner’s consent). Access to the markets, however, provided additional benefits besides a meager income. Slaves cultivated relationships with free African Americans and slaves from other plantations and shared and gathered information about local, state, and federal politics (Hahn, 2003). While the participation of blacks in public spaces such as markets provided legitimacy for their activities, it was still contingent upon that of whites and their owners. Slaves also used the time and space they acquired for spiritual and religious practice, although planters made numerous attempts to control the message blacks received, one of many instances where white fear of black insurrection motivated control. Whites understood that many religious messages ran counter to slavery, and worked to filter that message as best they could. To do so, whites often controlled slaves’ worship spaces. Many owners brought their slaves to their own churches, where they listened to sermons in the church balcony, separated from the white parishioners. On other plantations, there was a dedicated prayer house, where visiting preachers would give specific sermons to slaves. In some instances, sermons were given by white preachers, in others they were given by blacks, but often supervised by the planter or overseer (Whitman, 2007). Despite this controlled space, blacks still practiced their religion independently in their 20 quarters and the wilderness. Often, slaves’ religious practices combined various African spiritual traditions and Christian practices, resulting in a unique religious experience. Religious activities allowed blacks to socialize and build community relationships, while also developing metaphysical meaning for their bondage and struggle (Blassingame, 1979). In addition to influencing religious practices, slaveowners also sought to control information slaves received by restricting their ability to read and write. By ensuring black illiteracy, planters controlled the messages slaves received, and reduced opportunities for blacks to contradict their views. Despite this, blacks did whatever they could to become literate. Some learned from other slaves or free blacks, while slaves with access to the “Big House” would steal newspapers or books from children of the planter family. In other instances, black children would learn from white children, who were too young to know such behavior was wrong. The few literate slaves that did exist used the skill as a means of resistance, gathering information and distributing it among their community (Williams, 2005). The concern regarding literacy came to a head during the 1830s. In 1829 the publication of free black David Walker’s Appeal to the Coloured Citizens of the World, stirred the imaginations of slave owners in the South. In addition to outlining the terrors of slavery, Walker, a free black from Boston, argued that whites were the natural enemies of blacks, and that only an armed uprising would end slavery. By December of 1829, copies of the pamphlet had made it to Savannah, Georgia, sparking a rash of immediate legislative actions throughout the South to restrict the movement of free blacks, outlaw the teaching of slaves to read or write, and punishment for owning or distributing anti-slavery literature. Other states followed suit, including Louisiana and North Carolina (Williams, 2005). In 1831, Virginia lawmakers outlawed the assembly of free blacks at schools or churches for the purposes of learning to read or write. Slave owners had a real fear of slave insurrection, and they identified literacy as one of the primary causes. In August of 1831, this fear came true for slaveowners in Southampton County, Virginia. The Nat Turner rebellion, led by a literate and religious slave, ended with the killing of 55 whites and resulted in many more state-level legislative actions across the South restricting black education, 21 mobility, and rights to assembly. In Natchez, Louisiana, the rules governing black involvement in local markets were restricted, with tighter curfews enacted (Penningroth, 2003). While Nat Turner’s rebellion was not the only instance of a violent uprising by slaves, they were few and far between. Nonetheless, the fear was enough for white planters to respond with harsh and restrictive legislation. Besides violent uprising, the most explicit means of resistance and control of their space for slaves was running away. In this instance, slaves completely resisted their owner’s control over time and space, and instead opted to risk escaping to the North, where they would gain greater control over all aspects of their lives. Running away required navigation of a tightly controlled landscape, where whites had erected numerous obstacles to reduce the likelihood of escape. Many slaves were given tags when they left the plantation; those without tags were often assumed to be runaways. An entire profession, the slave catcher, emerged, existing for the sole purpose of tracking down runaways. Slave owners used the newspapers to advertise for runaway slaves, providing detailed descriptions and offering rewards. Still, runaways were the most visible form of resistance and their stories were used by the abolitionist movement, which published and chronicled numerous slave narratives of bondage, and the pursuit of freedom. The success of escaped slaves, and the public humiliation they brought to the institution of slavery, encouraged Southern politicians to establish tighter restrictions on the enslaved. The passage of the Fugitive Slave Act in 1850 was a direct action against the Underground Railroad, as it required free states to return enslaved property to their Southern owners, and made aiding escaped slaves a felony. Reaching the North no longer meant freedom, and slave catchers roamed the border states looking for escaped slaves. The Fugitive Slave Act also put free black citizens of Northern states in danger, as the primary slave identifier was skin color, not status. It was not uncommon for a slave catcher to commit already freed blacks into slavery. The Fugitive Slave Act was not the only legislative action that emerged from acts of slave resistance. As the dawn of the Civil War approached, local and state governments in the South began to tighten their control over blacks, both enslaved and free, to access and acquire free time 22 and to use space for community activities that had until that point become common place. The tightening of these restrictions coincided with the growing national debate about the morality of slavery, and its necessity to the United States economy. Soon, this debate led to the succession of many Southern slaveholding states, and the beginning of the Civil War. The beginning of the Civil War prompted the largest slave rebellion in United States history (Hahn, 2003). Despite efforts to limit the amount of information blacks could acquire by curbing activity in the markets, outlawing assembly, and restricting literacy, an underground current of information still reached enslaved blacks, alerting them to the growing divide between the North and South (Hahn, 2003). As Hahn describes, these “expectations led many of them to a form of rebellion that neither the Confederates or the Yankees had quite imagined” (Hahn, 2003, p. 68). The rebellion, while not centrally organized like that of Nat Turner or John Brown, began with blacks escaping to Union lines. These actions challenged Abraham Lincoln to enforce the Fugitive Slave Act during a time of war. In an effort to sidestep the Fugitive Slave Act and to avoid confronting the issue of slavery, the Union army initially considered escaped slaves contraband of war. In spite of their status as “property,” escaped blacks did not have to be returned to their owners. These “contrabands” established camps around and near Union forts and camps, resulting in new black communities. In many instances, these camps became small towns. Schools and churches were established, providing members of these new communities with places to congregate. Slaves who remained on their plantations also took part in the rebellion. Many abandoned their owners’ instructions, and began growing their own crops, rekindling old and broken family ties, and creating rules for their own work. In many cases, planters abandoned their plantations in the face of the advancing Union Army. The Union Army, upon arrival, began pawning off the plantations to Northern investors, soon leading to an “experiment” with paid black labor systems. Unfortunately, many of these systems were oppressive and restrictive in ways that were similar to slavery (Hahn, 2003, p. 76-77). Southern planters who continued to live on their plantations maintained tenuous control over 23 their slaves. Historians have numerous accounts of incidents where blacks refused to work until they were paid, staged protests, hung posters of Lincoln in their quarters, and even threatened owners with hanging (Williams, 2005; Hahn, 2003, p. 85). Such negotiations of power and control were moving into territories that had not been breached: the Civil War evolved from a war about state’s rights into one about freedom, and black Americans used it as a means to negotiate more power over their living and working conditions. There was very little that the Southern planters could do to maintain control. As the war progressed and Union troops pushed deeper into the South, the number of fugitive slaves increased. Gradually, the Union Army was forced to make different decisions about how to classify the black community. In response to the mounting pressure of so many escaped slaves, and the recognition that their revolt helped his cause, Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation, which declared all the slaves in the rebel states free, voided the Fugitive Slave Act and turned a war about state’s rights into a war over slavery and freedom. The actions of the enslaved populations, through generations of day-to-day struggle and resistance, had changed the scope of the Civil War, and ended slavery. 2.2.2 A New System: Time and Space in Post-Slavery Southern Agriculture The post-slavery era was one of great debate over the status of newly-emancipated African Americans. For white southerners, it was a series of attempts to regain the control that they had during slavery over African American labor. Similarly, freed blacks and their supporters continued struggling to ensure that freedom from slavery led to participation as full citizens in American society. Unfortunately, by the 1880s, deep-rooted racism and preconceived notions of blackness left African Americans as second-class citizens. While the early actions of the federal government laid the groundwork for equality for black Americans, the results, legislatively and on the ground, failed to meet that vision. Instead, African American families and communities continued to face and resist racism throughout the 19th and into the 20th centuries. The struggle to control the rights of blacks began immediately after the Civil War, with South- 24 ern states enacting Black Codes that restricted blacks’ mobility, their right to vote, and their access to other public rights. The federal government countered, passing the 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments. They also formed the Freedman’s Bureau in 1865, which provided aid to freed blacks in obtaining housing, education, and negotiating employment contracts with landowners. The Bureau, however, was shut down in 1871. The Ku Klux Klan had also begun to terrorize black families and individuals after the war. The federal government enacted the Civil Rights Act of 1871, allowing the Federal Government to enforce the Amendments and put down the violence. Similarly, the Civil Rights Act of 1875 attempted to provide equal protection in public spaces. Unfortunately this was rarely enforced, and many states began enacting Jim Crow laws that legalized segregation. In 1883, the Civil Rights Act of 1871 was ruled unconstitutional by the Supreme Court, in essence making civil rights a local, not federal issue (Blackmon, 2009). Southern States and localities determined the rights of blacks for themselves, a process that “opened the floodgates for laws throughout the South specifically aimed at eliminating those new rights for former slaves and their descendants” (Blackmon, 2009, p. 93). While free from slavery, African Americans had been relegated to, and were systematically kept at, a lower socioeconomic and political status. The redefinition of the role of black people, and what their new status as “free” meant, played out on the plantations and in the local communities throughout the South and Mid-Atlantic. The erasure of slavery only resulted in uncovering a racist society: white planters had preconceived notions of the role for black laborers, while the laborers remained cautious and resistant through their day-to-day actions. Planters continued to exercise their dominance by attempting to control the time and space of their laborers. While this control was limited, attempts were still made to assure that blacks continued to be impoverished and unable to exercise basic political rights. African Americans, however, negotiated these restrictions through their own use of space and time, using the new rights they did have to establish separate spheres within which to raise families and build communities. One of the primary areas of negotiation between white planters and black farmers was through labor contracts. Initially, planters tried to use wage labor systems, which allocated the most control 25 over the labor. However, these were strongly resisted by black farmers, and many planters found it difficult to find willing laborers (Orser Jr, 1991). Sharecropper and tenant-renter systems, however, provided African American farmers with more opportunities to separate themselves from whites and to establish more control over their families, although they also left a great deal of room for their exploitation. In these scenarios, black farmers were given control over land, housing, and the time they used to plant and harvest crops. White planters provided the land and, typically, a place to live, while the costs associated with equipment, seed, and fertilizer varied depending on the arrangement. In the sharecropping system, farmers would received a portion of the crop they produced. Black farmers appreciated this arrangement as opposed to wage labor because it gave them the freedom to work the land on their own schedule, gave them their own land, and also providing them with a piece of the product (Orser Jr, 1991). There were three types of renting systems. In share renting, the farmer provided laborers, animals, feed, tools, seed, and a portion of the fertilizer. The landlord provided land, housing, and the remainder of the fertilizer. The crop was divided based on the percentage of fertilizer provided. In the standing rent arrangement, the landlord provided land and housing, and the tenant paid rent in a portion of the crop. This meant the tenant had to provide all the remaining elements to make a crop, although he also had the opportunity to “accumulate capital” (Orser Jr, 1991). Cash renters, the third system, were similar to standing renters, except they paid an agreed upon amount of cash instead of crop. Despite what appeared to be a scenario where black farmers could advance economically and control their own space and time, share renting routinely kept African American farmers and their families in extreme poverty and debt. Contracts often included language that ensured “good behavior,” such as the right to not renew a contract if “the sharecropper acted in a way unsuitable to the landlord” (Orser Jr, 1991). Establishing debt was a primary means by which planters gained control over the farmer. Creating high rental rates, or making the final cut of the crop unfair, could ensure that the laborer would be indebted to the planter. In other instances, upon signing the con- 26 tract the farmer would be given an advance. Depending on the crop yield, the farmer may not be left with enough money to cover the debt, requiring them to borrow more. These instances were not uncommon, and put black families in difficult economic straits, and made them dependent on white planters. Debt slavery became a way for white planters to ensure that black farmers would continue to work the same plantations. As power over black civil rights shifted to local governments, and the Freedman’s Bureau was disbanded, the state and local judicial system became a critical means of controlling black workers. Blacks who were in breach of contract, or who broke any of the various Jim Crow laws or curfews, or were found in “vagrancy” would be arrested. If unable to cover the court fees, some black men found themselves in debt slavery to a planter who was willing to pay off his debt in return for his labor (Blackmon, 2009). These contracts stripped the laborer of most rights, ensuring his “enslavement” for many years. Most black men throughout the South lived in fear of this potential outcome. Despite these dangerous consequences, African Americans adopted a number of strategies to establish control over their own time and space. One of these newfound freedoms included mobility, which blacks used as much as possible. Immediately following the Civil War, blacks used mobility as their primary means of resistance. As historian Eric Foner notes, “it seemed that half the South’s black population took to the roads;” some migrated to urban areas, resulting in the doubling of the black population in the South’s ten largest cities (Foner, 1988, p. 81). Urban areas provided established African American churches and schools, as well as some legal protection through the close proximity of the Freedmen’s Bureau. For similar reasons, many blacks moved north to take advantage of long established freedoms and the potential for manufacturing work. Unfortunately, they were met by an influx of European immigrants who had migrated across the ocean for similar reasons. Urban areas were also popular destinations because of the already established African Americans communities. For blacks who lived in primarily white areas or had resided on plantations, relocating to be closer to other members of their race provided some safety from potential racial backlash while providing a supportive community. Mobility created sepa- 27 ration between white and black communities and allowed African Americans to avoid the racist system that threatened their well-being. Mobility resulted in blacks reestablishing family connections severed due to slavery and war. Many blacks who had been separated from their spouses and children during slavery or war began to rekindle these relationships, in some cases traveling across the country. In others, the separation may have been only neighboring plantations. Nonetheless, the ability to change their location allowed the black family to gain some stability by occupying the same household (Foner, 1988; Nesbit, 2011). Building families was a critical component of the post-slavery era, and had a significant impact on day-to-day black agricultural life. During slavery, the burden of production, be it through labor for the planter or for the enslaved community, relied on the work of the community. The fragile state of the enslaved family made it an unreliable unit. However, with the end of slavery and the reformation of the plantation labor system into one based on labor contracts, the burden of production shifted to that of the single family. The contracts that landlords signed were with heads of households, not with communities. Therefore, the means of production relied on the family. To gain more separation and independence from planters, African American families used mobility to reconfigure the settlement patterns on plantations. This dramatically altered the plantation space, originally designed to enhance the control and surveillance of the slave population. Instead of living in the rows and streets of the slave village, families moved further away from the plantation manor home (Prunty, 1955; Orser Jr, 1991; Penningroth, 2003). This separation placed blacks closer to their plots of land and also allowed black families to establish independent households, yard spaces, fields, barns, gardens, and livestock areas. Such actions suggested that blacks were attempting to separate themselves physically and economically from the control that was pervasive during slavery. As Penningroth notes, by “separating themselves and their property away from the oversight of white landlords, ex-slaves showed they no longer considered their property claims to be a custom or privilege but a right” (Penningroth, 2003). African Americans exercised their right to mobility by building homes further from their former owners as a means of establishing auton- 28 omy, and gaining independence through separation. Such separation also provided an advantage for the plantation owner: it further separated families from their communities, making it easier to exploit individual families (Orser Jr, 1991). These new arrangements, and the establishment of the black family as a stable unit within its own household space as opposed to a community space affected relationships within the family (Foner, 1988). Labor was renegotiated within the black household, as daily chores, the task of raising children, and working the fields were divided among the family members, not shared by the entire community as they were in slavery. In some instances, this placed tension on relationships between husbands, wives, and children (Penningroth, 2003). Children, for example, were a source of labor for families, and worked regularly in the fields. This was at odds with the wishes of parents, who valued education, particularly since they were systematically denied it during slavery. Unfortunately, the reality of the economic situation meant that to ensure a profitable crop, and to keep out of debt slavery, the children would have to work in the fields, often missing school. Additionally, children grew up and moved out of the household, causing a labor shortage. Women were another source of labor negotiated within the home. In addition to household chores, women also raised children and worked in the fields. Others served as domestic servants to white families (Glymph, 2008). In some instances, the labor of newly married women was disputed between her father and her husband (Penningroth, 2003). Where one household lost a laborer, the other gained one, and where women’s allegiances laid was sometimes in dispute. In other cases, these disputes resulted in domestic violence. Penningroth notes that many of the assault charges brought before the courts grew from disputes about the quality or quantity of the labor of the female victims (Penningroth, 2003). The reorganization of labor within the household was also a strategy of separation, wherein black male heads of households demonstrated their control over the time of their family members. Foner notes that many white planters were disappointed because they could no longer dictate who worked in the fields: they did not have control over where, when or how black women or children worked as they did during slavery. The roles of black women and children were estab- 29 lished within the black household, separate from the demands of white planters (Foner, 1988; Penningroth, 2003). Despite their new economic relationships and additional control over their household spaces, black families were still poor. While opportunities to take loans from their landlords existed, most African American families attempted to own their own property to establish a secondary income or to develop a self-sufficient home. Households were surrounded by a barn, gardens, and fenced areas for livestock, all which were used to supplement their diets. Many purchased guns to hunt, or engaged in fishing, oystering, or crabbing to improve their diets or to sell goods at markets. By becoming self-sufficient, black families distanced themselves from the original role of the “paternalistic” slave owner, and also attempted to stave off debt (Fields, 1985; Glymph, 2008; Penningroth, 2003). This was also reflected through the system of display and acknowledgement used by African Americans to claim ownership over their property: no longer did they require white “acknowledgment” to claim their possessions, and they made no effort to obtain it (Penningroth, 2003). Mobility and separation were also critical components in developing African American communities. Because the plantation community had been disrupted spatially, community spaces were developed outside of the plantation. This required mobility as a means to identify, create, and access these places. In many cases, small towns emerged in rural areas, sometimes near Civil War contraband camps, and often near black churches and schools. These towns provided new opportunities outside agriculture for African American entrepreneurs, opening shops for their African American clientele. The towns provided a safe haven from the potentially unsafe town centers dominated by white patrons and storekeepers: by establishing separate centers for commerce, African Americans were able to shield themselves from racism. In addition to new towns, the most notable institution for congregation was the African American church. Foner argues that the withdrawal of “blacks from biracial congregations redrew the religious map of the South” (Foner, 1988, p. 89). While some African American churches already existed in urban areas, almost all the congregations in rural areas after Emancipation were new. 30 Because ex-slaves had traditionally attended church with their owners, or because the plantation prayer houses were owned by their former owners, they had to raise the capital to purchase land and build new churches. Because this took time, congregations met in a variety of alternative locations, sometimes in former slave quarters, fields, the woods, or abandoned shacks (Hahn, 2003). Even without a physical structure to congregate, ex-slaves still decided to separate their worship from white churches. Congregations and churches served as mitigating bodies for relationships beyond the spiritual: “they established Sunday schools and welcomed other education activities, disseminated news and information, helped resolve disputes among members, defined collective norms, and brought sanctions against their transgressors” (Hahn, 2003, p. 232). Therefore, churches served as an educational, political, extra-legal, and social place for African Americans to freely gather. As Hahn notes, however, the “reconstitution of black communities was increasingly seen to require institutional power at the local level,” and the African American church provided this institution (Hahn, 2003, p. 234). Schools also provided a place dedicated to black communities. Parents during the post-slavery era recognized the value of education, as they had struggled for similar access during enslavement (Williams, 2005). The Freedman’s Bureau was particularly instrumental in establishing schoolhouses immediately following the Civil War, as were aid societies established in northern cities. Unfortunately, the labor demand on families and the institution of segregation meant African American schools throughout the United States were poorly attended and funded. Additionally, the demands placed upon African American children as farm laborers for their families often kept them out of the classroom. Noting these disadvantages, it was difficult for African American children to gain a full, competitive education in the rural South. After the Freedman’s Bureau was shut down, the ability to maintain equally funded schooling for black children diminished. Examining the process of emancipation throughout the South brings a new perspective to the ways that life during slavery and life after it were connected. In both instances, blacks fought against institutionalized racism and control, and used the opportunities they did have to create 31 separation, gather information, and provide for their families and communities in innovative ways. This resistance took many forms, and was often met with challenges from the white community through legislation, violence, and tactics of fear. Understanding how a change in status, from “slave” to “citizen” was challenged, manipulated, defined, and practiced, and how blacks were agents in the process, gives a glimpse into the importance of the African American experience during the post-slavery era. The mid-19th century was a contentious and difficult period in American history. Still a relatively young nation, the United States began to address the unpleasant realities that built the nation during the 18th and early 19th centuries: the issue of slavery. Slaves had been the primary means of labor throughout these centuries to build the economic agricultural system, and served as the base for the economic growth that existed during the 19th century, particularly in the South. However, by the mid-19th century, change was afoot: the economic system in the North became a strong industrial and manufacturing center; states in the South began to rely almost exclusively on cotton and slave labor and northern manufacturing; and the frontier to the west became a major exporter of wheat, and importer of northern goods. Emerging from these differences came a debate, and eventual war, about the rights of states and the necessity, morality, and reliance on enslaved labor. While the economic system shaped and directed a great deal about the conditions of the African American experience, black Americans were not complicit or inactive. On the contrary, their actions, whether by running away or learning to read and gathering information, were part of a long tradition of resistance to slavery and racism. This process of emancipation began in the early days of slavery, but carried throughout the early 19th century, the Civil War, and into the postslavery era, where blacks relied on their families and communities to achieve measured amounts of autonomy and freedom. 32 CHAPTER 3 ECONOMIC GROWTH AND EMANCIPATION IN MARYLAND Due to its geographic location, Maryland presents a unique case to the understanding of economic growth and emancipation during the 19th century. Located in the middle of the Eastern Seaboard, and surrounding the Chesapeake Bay, Maryland was one of the early colonies, founded in 1634. Through the 17th and 18th centuries, Maryland served as one of the largest producers of tobacco. Although the labor force was initially made up of indentured servants, slavery took its hold by the end of the 17th century and became the primary means of labor throughout 18th century Maryland. The 19th century, however, proved volatile for Maryland’s agricultural economy, as over farming led to the destruction of the state’s soils, and the transition away from tobacco. The pressure of westward expansion, northern industrialization, and southern cotton demand pulled at Maryland, which was located at the nexus of these three regions. To make matters more complicated, the Civil War placed Maryland slaveholders in the compromising position of owning slaves in a Union state. Understanding how the economic growth of the 19th century played out in Maryland, and how African Americans influenced and were affected by their pursuit of freedom is crucial to understanding St. Mary’s County during this period. 33 3.1 Industrialization, Agriculture, and the Problem with Labor in Maryland To understand the Maryland economy, and the actions of slaveholders within it, one must recognize that it was a “middle ground” that was influenced both by the cotton boom and the industrial revolution in the North. Maryland was at the intersection of these two economies. As the Civil War approached, Maryland’s agricultural economy changed, which impacted its relationship with slavery: Maryland entered the Civil War a slave state, but emerged as a state more representative of a Northern economy. This made Maryland not only a “Middle Ground” during the Civil War, but also a key site for the struggle of a nation grappling with two dramatically different economic systems. The distinction between Northern manufacturing and Southern agriculture were clearly identifiable in Maryland. African Americans were caught in the midst of this struggle, who adjusted and challenged the opportunities available to them. Maryland during the 17th and much of the 18th century relied almost entirely on tobacco as its primary agricultural and economic export, peaking in 1747 when tobacco accounted for 90 percent of Maryland’s total agricultural output. This trend reflected the focus of most industry in the colonial period, which relied on the export of agricultural nonperishables into the European markets, while importing large amounts of indentured labor during the 17th century and increasing numbers of enslaved laborers during the 18th century. While Marylanders were not as voracious in the slave trade in comparison to their Virginian counterparts, tobacco required a great deal of labor, and the population of African laborers in Maryland increased exponentially (Brugger, 1996). In the northern counties, however, tobacco planters were unable to keep pace with their Southern competitors. Virginia’s larger fields and labor force outpaced the production of Maryland tobacco. Additionally, the soils in most of Maryland began to give out due to centuries of tobacco planting. This caused planters in the North to diversify their crops, and by the end of the 18th century many had begun to transition away from tobacco as a staple crop, replacing it with small-grain agriculture, particularly wheat. Soon, plantations on the Eastern Shore and parts of Southern Maryland, where tobacco had a strong hold, began to integrate wheat into their crop rota34 tions. This had a tremendous impact on the labor system in Maryland. While tobacco was a labor intensive crop, requiring almost year-round attention from laborers, wheat only required attention during planting and harvest. As the 19th century approached, many planters in the northern counties began rethinking their labor strategy, as enslaved labor became an increasingly risky economic investment (Fields, 1985). The Southern-most region of Maryland, however, continued to produce tobacco. Soil in this portion of the state was more conducive to tobacco production, and Maryland farmers produced a distinctive leaf that was popular in Europe, referred to as “Maryland” tobacco. Maryland tobacco planters continued to use larger slave labor forces, although much smaller than plantations in the South. This is not to suggest that these planters did not feel the pressure felt by the rest of the state; indeed, by the 1830s wheat was the dominant crop in a number of districts in St. Mary’s County, the largest tobacco producing county in the state. By diversifying their crops through the incorporation of wheat, planters were able to weather dips in the tobacco market and continue to operate successful, profitable plantations. This strategy was integral to the success of St. Mary’s County plantations, while maintaining a demand for enslaved labor (King, 1997; Marks, 1979; Ranzetta, 2005). This agricultural transition in Southern Maryland was coupled with the growth of Baltimore as an industrial center. A relatively small urban area during the 18th century, Baltimore became a more significant port city following the American Revolution and the War of 1812. In addition to providing access to the Chesapeake Bay for the wheat exports of Maryland counties, Baltimore became a hub for manufacturing and textiles. Initially, and particularly alongside the city’s initial investments in iron during the 18th century, slaves were the primary labor source, many of whom were rented from planters transitioning into wheat production. During the 19th century, however, Baltimore merchants began relying on immigrants to work in industrial and harbor jobs in the city. Immigration accounted for the majority of the growth in Baltimore during the 19th century, adding 130,000 immigrants between 1830 and 1850. The percentage of enslaved and free blacks during that time period decreased from 22 percent in 1810 to 13 percent in 1860, while the total number 35 of blacks increased by only 10,890 (Fields, 1985, p. 44). Baltimore industrialists were no longer interested in slave labor, drawing similar conclusions as the northern Maryland agriculturalists: owning slaves was not an economically sound investment. Many Maryland planters sold, manumitted, or rented their excess laborers. Each technique had a dramatic effect on Maryland’s demographics, making it one of the most unique states in the Union. Barbara Fields discusses this changing demography in great detail, suggesting that these changes set Maryland apart from other slaveholding and non-slaveholding states. Maryland’s enslaved population dropped by 18,500 between 1830 and 1850, giving the state the highest percentage of free blacks in America (Fields, 1985). The sale of excess labor outside of the state was one of the primary strategies employed by slave owners. Because planters were financially invested in their slaves, they typically sought to recoup as much of their investment as possible. Fortunately for them, the demand for enslaved labor in the American South had increased by 1,800 percent due to increased cotton production. After the transatlantic slave trade was abolished in 1808, Southern planters turned to the domestic slave trade. Maryland, along with other states in the Upper South, began exporting their slaves at a dramatic rate. By 1860, nearly 40 percent of the total slave population in Maryland had been sold to the cotton growing regions. Western Maryland contributed almost half its enslaved population to cross-state sales (Dunaway, 2003). Forced migration was also popular in Southern Maryland, where planters sold the most slaves, and the Eastern Shore, which forced out the largest percentage of its enslaved population (Fields, 1985, p. 17). Renting slave labor also solved the problem of excess slaves on plantations. Slave owners would lease their slaves to Maryland factories or merchants in urban areas, relinquishing them of the costs of boarding these laborers, while also bringing in a fee from the renter. This three-way negotiation often meant more flexibility for the rented slaves: renters had to improve the treatment of their rented labor to ensure that they would return. This meant renters had to appease slaves, who would report back to their owners. Understandably, owners were concerned about the treatment of their slaves, as they were financial investments (Lewis, 1979). Additionally, rented slaves were 36 often expected to find their own boarding and food, and typically socialized and worked with other rented slaves or free blacks. Enslaved laborers often preferred this independence to the conditions on a plantation (Whitman, 1999). Frederick Douglass’ labor was rented out by his plantation owner in Baltimore, where he was expected to cover his own boarding and food. This arrangement also introduced Douglass to a new community of free blacks, and informed his decision to escape his bondage (Douglass, 1845). Nonetheless, hiring slaves became a popular option for slaveowners to ensure that they could still gain a return on their investments during non-harvest months, or to not lose money on slaves while they transitioned out of tobacco production. Manumission was the least common tactic employed by slaveowners to reduce their slaveholdings. Manumission rates in Maryland increased dramatically during the 19th century, contributing to the high number of free blacks in the state. Manumission occurred in a number of ways. Many planters agreed to gradual manumission, where slaves would be manumitted at a certain age. Some slaves purchased their own freedom, while others were granted freedom in their owners’ wills (Whitman, 1999). In other instances, free blacks or free families of enslaved blacks would save to purchase themselves or an enslaved relative out of bondage. Regardless as to how planters dealt with their excess labor, the decision to move towards a different labor system and away from slave labor was due to “objective structural requirements, not subjective individual preferences” (Fields, 1985, p. 55), meaning that many slave owners did so for economic reasons, particularly those in the Northern counties. However, the shift away from slave labor affected the stability of the social system on the Eastern Shore and Southern Maryland. These regions were tied economically and socially to their slaves. For large slaveowners, their membership among the planter class was conditioned upon the existence of enslaved laborers, both as a part of the established hierarchy of the “natural” order of things, but also a means to demonstrate their wealth and to carry out the social performance of their status. Land and labor ownership were markers of wealth and status in Southern society, and loss of those markers threatened that social status. Despite the anger of the elite planter class, the numbers on the Eastern Shore suggest that 37 they were losing the battle against the changing demographics. Between 1790 and 1850, the slave populations in all the Eastern Shore counties decreased by 32.6 percent, leaving 25,997 enslaved blacks. In Southern Maryland, including St. Mary’s County, the loss was only 1.9 percent, leaving 47,785 enslaved laborers in the County, a population almost double that of the Eastern Shore. The cause for this may be more practical than anything else: Southern Maryland produced 98 percent of the state’s tobacco, reinforcing the need for enslaved labor, while cereal production accounted for almost all of the agricultural output on the Eastern Shore by 1850. The slave population density may also suggest that slavery had an even higher level of status for planters in Southern Maryland then in other counties, and they were less willing to part with their enslaved laborers (Fields, 1985). Regardless, the complicated motivations indicate how tightly wound slavery was as an economic and social institution. This complicated relationship with black labor came to a head with the rest of the nation’s increasing divisions between North and South. While encompassed under the umbrella of state’s rights, the issue at hand was the right of states to allow slavery. For Southern states, and for many planters in the Eastern and Southern colonies of Maryland, slavery was an issue of maintaining a social ranking system, and it soon led to succession and the Civil War. Maryland sat on the border: its confusing demography of enslaved and free blacks, slave owners and former slave owners, as well as a rising abolitionist movement in Baltimore, complicated the decision about succession. In the end, pressure from the federal government and quick action by Abraham Lincoln led to Maryland to remain in the Union, despite heavy resistance, particularly in the Southern counties. Westward expansion also effected Maryland’s agricultural economy, as wheat producers had difficulty competing with the influx of cereal from the Midwest. Baltimore’s growth exemplifies one of the major shifts taking place during the 1840s and 1850s. The westward expansion that had begun in the early 19th century had begun to take root, with new states in the Midwest and upper South being admitted to the Union. The construction of the Erie Canal, which opened the West to New York City, convinced Baltimore merchants to pursue a similar connection to the West. By 1830, the first section of track of the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad had been laid, connecting 38 Baltimore to Ellicott City, Maryland. In 1831, the railroad connected to Washington, D.C., and by 1852 it reached Wheeling, Ohio. This solidified Baltimore as one of the primary exporters of wheat on the Eastern seaboard, while the railroad itself was a valuable tool for the Union Army to transfer troops across the country. Production of wheat in the Midwest, however, far surpassed Maryland’s production (Brugger, 1996). The Civil War and westward expansion had positive effects on the industrial economy in Maryland, but a negative effect on the state’s ability to continue producing wheat at a competitive price. Staying in the Union ensured that Maryland’s cities and plantations were not destroyed during the war, keeping their economic systems relatively stable, although many plantations who’s owners joined the Confederacy in the southern counties suffered. Expansion of the B&O Railroad and the importation of wheat from the Midwest, however, did major damage to Maryland’s wheat production. Despite pockets in the Southern and Eastern counties, by the end of the Civil War it had become clear that slaveholding was not the primary means of maintaining economic or social capital in Maryland. Instead, the “homegrown bourgeoisie” began operating largely independent of slavery, and had benefited greatly from investments in manufacturing during the war (Fields, 1985, p. 168). The post-war Maryland economy relied primarily on manufacturing within the cities and the entrepreneurial spirit of local producers in industries such as fishing, lumbering, and oystering. From an economic perspective, a shifting of focus onto manufacturing and other forms of farming and agricultural production were fortunate, because there was little reason to invest in other Maryland industries. Besides coal, Maryland had little mineral wealth, and other regions had greatly surpassed their output of agricultural staple crops. In Southern Maryland, tobacco output continued to decrease, accelerated by new technology as tobacco planters in Virginia and North Carolina began adopting flue-curing as a means of faster, cheaper tobacco production. This technique, however, was not popular in Maryland, as it changed the nature of their specific type of tobacco. As a result “Maryland” tobacco skyrocketed in price, while the competitive brands decreased. This reduced the demand for the regional leaf, and was exacerbated by the depression in 1873 (King, 1997). By 1880 Maryland, once one of the nation’s primary tobacco producers, 39 ranked only seventh in tobacco production. Similarly, Maryland’s gains in cereal production were threatened by grain production in the Midwest, created by technological advances and out-of-state competition. In this case, the success of the B&O Railroad brought competitive grain products into the region. Midwestern states were able to produce and export their grain in much larger capacities and at a cheaper cost than those in Maryland; by 1879, Western states accounted for 60 percent of the nation’s wheat production (Fields, 1985, p. 170). Maryland agriculturalists were forced to reinvent themselves once again, and took advantage of their close proximity to the large urban centers such as Washington, Baltimore, and Philadelphia. In place of nonperishable goods such as tobacco and wheat, Maryland farmers began supplying these industrial cities with fruits, vegetables, meat, and dairy products. The Eastern Shore was particularly effective at this, establishing a rail connection with these urban centers. Of course, in this instance agricultural production was not acting as an independent export, but rather as a supporter of the industrialized manufacturing centers. What had once been the primary driver of Maryland’s economy was now playing a supporting role to the industrial and manufacturing urban centers. 3.1.1 St. Mary’s County: A Southern Economy In St. Mary’s County, the transitions that took place throughout Maryland were reflected in different ways. While much of the state was relinquishing excess slave labor, transitioning to a wheat economy, or investing in industrial pursuits, many planters in St. Mary’s County built more diverse planting operations combining wheat and tobacco, maintained their slaveholdings, and built a prewar economic system that better reflected the slave economy of the South. Transportation, labor, and diversification were critical components of this system, allowing St. Mary’s County to enjoy a relatively prosperous economy leading up to the Civil War. After the war, reliance on the slave economy hurt a number of the planters, as the enslaved labor system disappeared and wheat and tobacco became less profitable. Nonetheless, their understanding of a diverse agricultural system allowed planters to remain flexible, investing in new pursuits within and outside of agriculture. 40 Agricultural reformers in the 19th century, and historians since, have considered St. Mary’s planters backwards and stubborn for their decision to maintain a tobacco-based agricultural system throughout the 19th century. By most indicators, continuing to produce tobacco was hard on the soil and had costly labor demands. Their adherence to tobacco was considered a refusal to give up tradition in the face of stark realities. Historians, archaeologists, and architectural historians, however, have recently argued that St. Mary’s County farmers were not dependent on tobacco alone: instead, they used a diversified crop production of tobacco and wheat to “hedge against depressions in the tobacco market” (Ranzetta, 2010, p. 65). By not relying on a single crop to perform, planters were able to produce a staple crop until the Civil War. Instead of being stubborn or backwards, Southern Maryland planters were approaching their agriculture creatively (Marks, 1979; King, 1997; Ranzetta, 2005, 2010). Continuing to produce tobacco, however, required larger labor forces. These demands ensured that St. Mary’s County maintained a consistent slave population, while the numbers decreased elsewhere in Maryland (Fields, 1985). While other planters in Maryland were selling and manumitting their slaves, Southern Maryland remained a slave society. This is not to say that some planters were not engaged in reducing their slaveholdings; a few notable instances resulted in the disbanding of entire enslaved populations, such as at the Jesuit Farm in St. Inigoes where the slaves were sold to a plantation in the Deep South. Nonetheless, slavery was still an integral part of the economy in St. Mary’s County due to its diversified crop production, and reflected the slave societies in the South more than those located further North. The integrated transportation system linking St. Mary’s County to ports in Baltimore and Washington was the final key to its economy. By the early 19th century, wharves dotted the Patuxent and Potomac coastline, and were traversed by major steamboat lines carrying people and cargo between Washington and Baltimore. For the most part, major towns were located near these wharves, such as the county seat, Leanardtown, which relied on the port for its population boost during the 19th century. Two lighthouses were added at this time, one at Point Lookout and the other at Piney Point, indicating the value of the river transportation. Steamboats shipped grain and tobacco North 41 to Baltimore, and returned with urban goods for St. Mary’s County’s rural consumers. Local newspapers were littered with advertisements from Baltimore merchants looking to sell and ship their wares to people in the county (Ranzetta, 2010). This type of trade reflected the economic system of the South, which relied heavily on the North for manufactured goods; in this case, much of the trade was between the Northern and Southern parts of Maryland. Heading into the Civil War, St. Mary’s County had enjoyed almost 30 years of relative stability and prosperity. While modestly reflected through their technological, agricultural, and architectural gains, close examinations of investments made by county elites indicate that it was profitable period. By examining the architecture during the period, Ranzetta noticed a substantial effort by the elite to improve their station through building new or modifying old manor homes, outbuildings, and agricultural buildings (Ranzetta, 2010). The Civil War, therefore, brought a great deal of concern and dissent to St. Mary’s County: elite planters stood to suffer significant economic and social losses if slavery were abolished. Despite Maryland’s alliance with the Union, the large majority of St. Mary’s County sympathized, and sometimes acted, on the side of the Confederacy. Dissent was so evident in St. Mary’s County that the Union Army maintained a strong presence there during the War. Of particular interest was securing the Potomac River, which was achieved through the presence of a naval flotilla (Davidson, 2000). While this effort stopped any advance from Confederate forces to the South, it became clear that the real threat was St. Mary’s County residents smuggling goods from the North to the South. The Navy shut down or destroyed a number of wharves to prevent smuggling and arrested a number of St. Mary’s elites as political prisoners. In 1863, the vacation cottages at Point Lookout were converted into a hospital and then a Confederate prison, and became home to a number of St. Mary’s political prisoners. The editor of the St. Mary’s Beacon was arrested, as the paper’s content was largely sympathetic to the Confederacy (Hammett, 1977). There was little doubt where the social elite within the County stood regarding the issues surrounding the war: its residents relied on slavery to survive, and had adopted an economic model that mirrored that of the secessionist states. Although St. Mary’s County did not see direct action during the Civil War, the conflict had 42 a detrimental effect on its plantations. The main difficulty arose from changing labor conditions: most slaveholders had made significant financial investments in their enslaved population, which was lost through Emancipation. Finding new laborers and negotiating contracts was a new and difficult venture immediately following the War, particularly with the capital slave owners lost via their slaves. Still, most agricultural laborers were former slaves, and served as tenant farmers for former slaveholders. Despite these difficulties, the mantra of the County was “Improvement,” and a number of efforts were made to further diversify the agricultural and industrial output from the peninsula (Ranzetta, 2010). Despite the shortage of labor, St. Mary’s continued to produce tobacco, albeit in limited amounts. The advent of flue curing in the 1870s had a dismal effect on the value of Maryland tobacco, and this lessened the county’s output (King, 1997). Similarly, the influx of wheat from the West diminished the profitability of grain agriculture. Other resources became pivotal to the County. In addition to producing more perishable goods—fruits, vegetables, meat, and dairy— like the rest of Maryland, St. Mary’s residents also began to harvest fish, oyster, and crabs from the rivers and Chesapeake Bay. The transition to a water-based economy made sense, considering most of the plantations and urban areas already occupied coastal areas, and the transportation network already existed to ship cargo to Baltimore and other large urban areas. By the 1880s and 90s, a number of maritime communities began to flourish in St. Mary’s County. Others made efforts to encourage tourism through resort communities. While many of these were unsuccessful, they indicate the efforts made by St. Mary’s County to further diversify their economy beyond agriculture. Throughout the 19th century, St. Mary’s County faced challenges similar to the rest of Maryland, while also maintaining a distinct cultural and economic independence from the rest of the state. In many ways, the St. Mary’s economy before the Civil War was a Southern economy: focused on staple crops and slave labor, and relying on Northern manufacturing for trade goods. A key difference was the region’s focus on a diverse crop yield, allowing planters to have a more fluid, adaptable approach to navigating the rapidly changing markets. This became an integral 43 strategy after the Civil War, when tobacco and wheat were no longer adequate sources of profit. Widening their agricultural production to include perishable items and expanding into opportunities for tourism and exploiting the maritime resources allowed St. Mary’s County to survive a difficult period after the War. 3.2 The Process of Emancipation in Maryland Only a limited amount of historical research has been conducted about the day-to-day interactions between plantation owners and their slaves in Maryland. Nonetheless, historians have argued that the management of enslaved property in Maryland was unique: in particular, the high number of manumissions (Whitman, 1999; Reid, 2006), extensive participation in the domestic slave trade (Dunaway, 2003), the exceptionally high rate of slave hiring (Lewis, 1979), and the high proportion of free blacks in the state (Fields, 1985) led to a different demography than in other slaveholding states. These characteristics were a product of the changing agricultural and economic climate in the United States, which directly affected the way Maryland planters managed their labor. Because Maryland sat at the intersection of the industrial North and agricultural South, the state itself was divided by the changes that occurred, prompting different views about the practice of slavery. This, in turn, affected the day-to-day lives of the enslaved. The Civil War period was also an experience unique to Maryland and other Union slave-holding states. Enslaved blacks were not affected by the Emancipation Proclamation, which only freed slaves in the rebellious states. However, both free and enslaved blacks were heavily recruited in the latter portion of the war, providing opportunities for slaves to leave the plantation to fight and aid the U.S. military in combating smuggling. Even fewer works have examined the post-slavery era in Maryland, despite the unique conditions for agricultural labor in the state. As a Union state, the climate was quite different during and after the Civil War than in the Southern Confederate states. The Freedman’s Bureau, for example, was less active and held less influence than in the Southern States. Also, because Maryland was not a Confederate state, it did not have to abide by the laws that were placed on the former Confederate states for re-admittance to the Union. Additionally, the economic climate in Maryland was 44 very different. While other former slaveholding states maintained the production and demand for high-labor crops, the decline in staple crop production in Maryland continued after the Civil War. This resulted in a lack of jobs and income for black families, who were forced to find alternative forms of employment, or to make due with what they could produce on their own. Lastly, the political conditions in Maryland were also unique. In Maryland, the African American vote secured a majority for the Republicans, protecting the state from much of the racist legislation that restricted the rights of blacks in the South. Without playing this pivotal role in deciding elections, it is likely that many of the laws passed in the South would have come to pass in Maryland. Despite these differences, many of the realities of plantation labor during slavery and postslavery remained the same: slave owners continued to dominate and control the daily lives of their property, while the enslaved resisted this dominance through various actions. In post-slavery Maryland, black laborers faced the same racism and oppression faced by blacks throughout the United States, regularly finding opportunities for work and advancement closed to them through unfair legislation and violence. White planters who continued to produce agricultural products adopted similar practices employed by their Southern counterparts, ensuring that black families continued to live out their lives in a state of extreme poverty. These negotiations between blacks and whites continued to fall within the purview of negotiations of space and time. The unique applications of controlling labor that was employed by Maryland planters and other whites brought unique challenges to maintaining that control and to resisting it. By adopting a perspective from the black laborer, we can examine the process of emancipation in Maryland. 3.2.1 Time and Space on the Maryland Slave Plantation Maryland’s transition to a more diversified or small-grain crop meant that the need for enslaved labor was greatly diminished. This was largely the case the in the Northern and Eastern counties; Southern Maryland, however, remained the third largest tobacco producer in the country until the 1860s. Nonetheless, many slave owners had larger slaveholdings than were necessary, and they 45 adopted a number of strategies that managed or manipulated the space and time of their laborers. Correspondingly, the enslaved resisted or exploited these different strategies for their own benefit, some more effectively than others. The strategies included participation in the domestic slave trade, hiring or renting their slaves, or manumission. In each case, the planter executed their power over the spaces in which black laborers worked and lived. Even manumission, although often a negotiation between the planter and his laborer, required a decision from the planter. In Maryland, however, because of the changing demand for labor, there were a number of opportunities for enslaved laborers to exercise their agency through the negotiation of the terms of their bondage. The most explicit exercise of power by planters was their participation in the domestic slave trade. This option for handling extra labor was appealing, since the demand for labor for cotton production kept the prices for enslaved labor high. For some, participating in this market became a regular part of their business, producing enslaved children through natural increase and selling them to slave traders. In many cases, the labor was more valuable than the land they worked (Dunaway, 2003). Historians have noted that the slave trade in Maryland took three forms: intrastate sale, interstate sale, and migration (Fields, 1985). Of course, these three forms of trade all had disastrous consequences for enslaved families. This was particularly destructive in Maryland, where participation in the slave trade was prolific and the average slaveholdings were small. Fields discusses these statistics in detail, and argues that small slaveholdings were particularly destructive to enslaved families. In 1860, only one Maryland slaveholder held between 300 and 500 slaves while 15 held between 100 and 200, accounting for only 0.1 percent of the total. The median slaveholding was three, and half of Maryland slaves were enslaved with fewer than 11 others (Fields, 1985, p. 25). These numbers pale in comparison to those of other slaveholding states in the Chesapeake, Lowcountry, Upper South, and Deep South. Similarly, they indicate that the cost of planters’ participation in the slave trade to black families was enormous. The smaller the slaveholdings the more likely families were already divided among multiple plantations through abroad marriages. Even those who lived on larger plantations may have been married to someone on a smaller plantation. Slaves resisted this separation by using their free time to see their spouses 46 and children, and often divided marriages led to attempted escapes. Additionally, because small slaveholders were often members of the lower classes, they were more susceptible to financial catastrophe or death, thus putting enslaved families at risk of being sold or auctioned to cover outstanding debts (Fields, 1985). The enslaved had little power in the decision by a slave owner to sell their property or to relocate them, and they lived in the shadow of this reality. Slave hiring was another option that slave owners used to mitigate excessive labor. Hiring could be long or short-term between plantations, year-long or seasonal contracts with industrial factories or to merchants in urban areas. Hiring was particularly useful for those planters who had transitioned to wheat production: renting removed the cost of boarding their labor during the non-harvest months, which constituted the majority of the year. Of course, this process placed the same limitations for those on the plantation. Enslaved families were separated for long stretches of time, when individuals were hired out to plantations, cities, or factories that were far away. Despite this, some advantages were afforded to the hired slave. Lewis, in his study of industrial slavery in Maryland and Virginia, notes the unique position that rented slaves occupied, positing they gained additional power because of the three-way relationship that existed between the slave owner, the renter, and the slave: “slaves pushed just...hard enough to win additional advantages, gain some life space, and yet remain within acceptable (if unspoken) bounds...employers yielded without losing control, while slave owners attempted to protect and profit from their property at the same time” (Lewis, 1979, p. 82). Lewis notes a number of incidents where slave owners would hear from their slaves about mistreatment, and then negotiate on their behalf for better treatment and conditions. Hired slaves carefully negotiated these conditions between their owners and renters, and the latter found themselves delicately balancing between the need for efficient labor and the needs of their workers. Unfortunately, this did not work in all cases: Frederick Douglass was rented multiple times, and treated differently in each instance (Douglass, 1845). In some cases, particularly for more skilled artisans who were rented by urban employers, hired slaves had relatively more autonomy than their counterparts on the plantation. In many cases they lived on their own and found their own work. As Fields points out, it was highly unlikely that 47 those who were rented as field hands to other plantations received as much leeway (Fields, 1985). This bears out in the experience of Douglass, who, as a hired field hand was brutally treated, but leveraged this poor treatment to gain a better opportunity working for a shipbuilder in Baltimore (Douglass, 1845). Nonetheless, the arrangements of hiring and renting slave labor still had negative effects on the family, which were regularly divided: even distances of 10 miles would be difficult to travel, and even then visitation would be at the whim of the slave owner. While slaves tried to maintain these bonds, they were infrequent, leaving even Frederick Douglass to remark that his early separation from his mother made his home “charmless” (Douglass, 1845, p. 73). Slave hiring and the increased rates of manumission led to greater interaction between enslaved and free blacks. The hiring of slaves placed enslaved workers in urban or industrial contexts where they were often working with or alongside free black laborers or artisans. The high rate of free blacks also meant that they were hired by plantation owners to work on plantations providing additional field or skilled labor during harvest or for special projects (Marks, 1987). When hired out, enslaved blacks expanded their social networks in ways that were more difficult for those in other slave states. Where free and enslaved blacks interacted, shared information, built relationships and traded goods. This also exposed the enslaved to more opportunities to learn to read and write, to engage in all-black religious communities, and to be exposed to ideas and concepts of freedom and justice. Often, these relationships resulted in marriage, a practice that was “ common enough to be unremarkable” (Fields, 1985, p. 28). At times these marriages were between slaves and free blacks. Term slavery was a common practice in Maryland, meaning that one half of a relationship may be freed before another (Reid, 2006; Fields, 1985). These marriages were fraught with the same potential for upheaval: often families were separated geographically, and could be divided permanently through sale. The slave trade, manumission, and slave hiring resulted in high rates of migration and transition for enslaved and free blacks in Maryland. Fields notes the desire of many blacks to venture off the plantation and to urban areas, particularly Baltimore: “while migration for white Marylanders usually meant leaving the state altogether in search of better prospects to the West or South, for 48 free blacks it usually meant crowding into Maryland’s cities and towns” (Fields, 1985, p. 33). For manumitted slaves or slaves hired to employers in urban settings, this became a reality, and they benefited from the relative autonomy that life in the city afforded, in addition to the larger community of free blacks that inhabited cities like Baltimore. For those who remained enslaved on plantations, running away continued to be a regular form of resistance. Resisting slavery was a regular occurrence in Maryland, and disrupted the day-to-day operations of planters. For example, on April 17th, 1817 in St. Inigoes in St. Mary’s County, an uprising of between 150 to 200 slaves occurred at Thomas Bennett’s store. The uprising demonstrated the tension that existed between slaves and their owners, and also the cohesion that existed among the enslaved and free black populations (Neuwirth, 1997). Slaves continued to run away, buoyed by the strong presence of the abolitionist movement in Baltimore: famous historical figures such as Harriet Tubman and Frederick Douglass were both enslaved, escaped, and lived in Maryland. As in other slave states, however, these regular actions of resistance resulted in increased restrictions on enslaved and free blacks through federal and state legislation. Political power was one of the primary means by which the planter class was able to control the space and time of both enslaved and free blacks. In Maryland, the slaveholding, Democratic counties held the majority of political power, and protected the interests of the slaveholders. The planter class was concerned about free blacks influencing slaves to runaway or start rebellions, and as the Civil War approached restrictions on free blacks tightened. These laws were particularly pertinent considering the high volume of free blacks in Maryland. Beginning in 1826, laws were enacted that restricted the age that slaves could be manumitted, increased penalties for encouraging runaways, and prohibited the circulation of abolitionist literature among African Americans, enslaved or otherwise. By the 1840s, even more restrictions were placed on African Americans. In 1846, free or enslaved blacks were no longer permitted to have camp meetings, and could only attend religious services white churches. In each case, these laws tightened the hold on both free and enslaved blacks, following the patterns of other slaveholding states throughout the South. Methods for controlling slaves on the plantation were similar in many ways to actions taken 49 further South. Kirk Ranzetta notes that on larger plantations there was often a separation of the domestic and field slave quarters, which were built near their respective work areas. Some plantations, such as Sotterley Plantation in St. Mary’s County, however, had a row of quarters located near the manor home. Even in the manor home, these boundaries were acknowledged through architectural divisions, servant stairways, external kitchens, and separate living quarters, shielding the slaves from the view of the family and visitors (Ranzetta, 2010). This separation was largely symbolic, however: in reality, it did little to keep the enslaved community from gathering information about the comings and goings within and outside the plantation. At the same time, it also gave domestic slaves little privacy (Fitts, 1996). For most planters and slaves, conditions would have placed them in close proximity, since the average slaveholding in Maryland was relatively low. As the Civil War approached, Maryland faced a difficult decision about its political alliances. While much of Maryland had moved away from slaveholding, the Democratic Party continued to hold legislative power and supported the counties that still relied on slaveholding for economic and social reasons. Lincoln, however, applied significant pressure, as Maryland’s geography was critical to maintaining control over Washington, D.C.; this pressure led to Maryland staying with the Union. Part of the understanding, however, was that slavery would not be abolished, allowing Maryland to continue its embrace of the peculiar institution. Nonetheless, few slaveholders trusted this outcome. In St. Mary’s County, where slaveholding undergirded a prospering economy, the Southern cause was heavily and vocally supported. This prompted a heavy-handed presence of Union soldiers in the County throughout the War. The Civil War and the presence of Union soldiers on Maryland plantations weakened the hold slave owners held over their bondsmen. While Lincoln’s gradual ending of slavery through the contraband acts and the Emancipation Proclamation had no direct or legal impact on the status of Maryland slaves because it provided openings for slaves to gain their freedom. In some cases, slaves would escape to Washington, D.C. and proclaim that they had escaped from Virginia, making them free. In other instances, slaves would leave with the occupying Union troops, or, in the case of slaves in St. Mary’s County, escape to the nearby Point Lookout Prison or Contra- 50 band Farms that had been placed on occupied plantations of Southern sympathizers (Fields, 1985; Ranzetta, 2010). The Union Army’s recruitment of Maryland slaves to participate in the Civil War critically weakened planters’ hold over the enslaved. This effort was met with resistance in St. Mary’s County, where one plantation owner killed a recruiting officer. Still, most realized that the recruiting of slaves was the writing on the wall: there was little doubt that slavery would be abolished in Maryland after the War ended. 3.2.2 Emancipation and Freedom in Maryland The Maryland constitution of 1864 outlawed slavery, but did not provide any political or social rights to African Americans, including the right to vote. Similar outcomes came with the 1867 Maryland constitution, despite Republican attempts to have the right to vote included. Republican support for black suffrage was largely political in Maryland, which was evenly divided between the two parties. The addition of black votes to the Republican tally would give them a solid majority over the Democrats. These Republicans, therefore, became proponents of gaining ratification for the 15th Amendment to the Federal Constitution. While they failed to gain that ratification in Maryland, the Amendment passed nonetheless, thanks largely to the former Confederate states which were forced to ratify the amendment to reenter the Union. Throughout Maryland, African Americans celebrated the ratification of the Amendment. In Baltimore, nearly 20,000 African Americans marched through the streets, and abolitionist leaders such as Frederick Douglass spoke. In St. Mary’s County, a smaller rally was held (Hammett, 1977). Over the course of a decade, African American men in Maryland had gone from enslaved to having political rights, and they had played a major role in the process. Politically, black votes secured the legislature for the Republican Party, which protected African Americans from much of the harsh legislation that was passed by other Southern states during the late 19th century. This is not to say that segregation did not exist in Maryland, but some of the harsher voting restriction laws that took hold in other states faced serious opposition in Maryland (Brugger, 1996). 51 While African Americans had more political rights in Maryland than in other former slave states, this did not necessarily result in better economic conditions. Nor did it mean that African Americans were treated equally in local politics, law enforcement, education, or labor. Establishing separate institutions, communities, and resources were paramount for blacks and whites in Maryland. Whites sought separation due to their racist notions of what blackness meant, while blacks sought separation as a means of avoiding the racist institutions that were in place. These divisions are most evident through practices on and off the plantation, in labor practices, education, and religious and community separatism that emerged throughout the late 19th century, and are particular evident in St. Mary’s County. The primary concern of planters after the Civil War was maintaining a labor force capable of raising crops. While their plantations had not witnessed the destruction felt by their fellow planters further South, the destruction of the enslaved labor system, and the resulting loss of the money invested in their human property, left many Maryland planters in St. Mary’s County in economic ruin. For those who fought for the South, the years of limited to no crop production left them in debt, and bringing on wage laborers was an additional expense that had not existed before. As happened throughout the former slaveholding states, laborers and planters began engaging in a delicate renegotiation of power. The planters started quickly: throughout Maryland a number of former slaveholders used a legal loophole to bond former slave children as lifelong apprentices. This practice was quickly abolished through the intervention of the Freedmen’s Bureau, but clearly demonstrated the attachment that planters had to the concept of lifelong bondage (Fields, 1985). After the war, many African Americans moved to new locations on local, inter-, and intrastate scales. They used their mobility to reconstitute their families that had been divided by slavery under one roof, move to urban areas to find new work in industry or manufacturing, and to start independent communities to avoid racism. Others migrated from Virginia to Maryland, a process that began during the war, and integrated into its rural and urban communities (Davidson, 2000). In St. Mary’s County, a number of new communities developed that were composed entirely of African Americans. These communities provided a cultural and social barrier between blacks 52 and whites, and gave black entrepreneurs the chance to build their own businesses that supported black customers. This also provided some semblance of social independence: blacks could visit stores, churches, and community centers without worrying about shopping at white stores and encountering racism. Churches and schools were often the center of these small communities, serving as the locus for community interaction (Ranzetta, 2010). St. Mary’s County was one of the counties in Maryland where the Freedmen’s Bureau operated on behalf of African Americans. One of their responsibilities was to help establish schools for African Americans. During the late 1860s, a number of one-room schoolhouses were constructed throughout the county on land donated by elite plantation owners. This provided African American children with educational opportunities. While these structures were similar in size to those of white schoolchildren, the quality of the education, materials, and the building’s upkeep were dependent on funding. In Maryland, funds for education came through property taxes: white property taxes supported white schools, and black property taxes supported black schools. Considering that few blacks owned property, the amount of money allocated to support black schools remained low. Black families also faced problems ensuring their children attended school due to conflicts with harvest time. Because of this, many African Americans did not receive a quality education, resulting in only 47 percent of African Americans being able to read or write in 1901 (Brugger, 1996). Life on the plantation also changed significantly. In most instances, Maryland planters hired tenant farmers and sharecroppers to tend to the crops, and supplemented their workforce with wage laborers for harvest (Ranzetta, 2010). In some cases, these farmers were former slaves of the planter, but others were transplants from other plantations either in Maryland or from other states. Greater divisions between work and social life existed on the post-bellum plantation. For example, domestic servants lived outside the home, as opposed to inside the manor house. In many cases, the homes that black families lived in had originally been slave quarters. For most families, they continued to live in poor conditions, and their economic station rarely improved. Because the agricultural conditions had changed and the labor demands had decreased, many black 53 families looked for opportunities in other industries. Oystering, crabbing, and fishing were particularly popular, and many oystermen in Southern Maryland during the late 19th-century were African Americans. For some, this served as a secondary income, as it supplemented work in tenant farming. Nonetheless, the changes in regulations regarding dredging had a detrimental effect on independent oystermen in the late 19th century, and struck African Americans particularly hard (Fields, 1985). While African Americans in Maryland may have held slightly more political power then in other former slave states, racism and segregation persisted particularly on local scales. These realities heavily shaped the day-to-day black experience, particularly in regard to education and economic stability. To mitigate these difficulties, blacks sought separation by establishing their own communities and institutions, and supplementing their incomes with the resources around them, and using their mobility to avoid difficult situations. Their way of life changed, but the strategies they used during slavery such as mobility and self-reliance persisted. The shifting agricultural system and the Maryland’s allegiance to the Union despite supporting slavery created unique conditions in St. Mary’s County for enslaved and newly freed African Americans. The type of crop being planted and the social context of the plantation influenced the lives of the slaves who worked the fields. In much of Maryland, the transition to wheat meant that planters were selling their slaves, while in Southern Maryland the rates of sale were slowed by the maintenance of a diversified crop yield. Nonetheless, the threat of sale created highly unstable conditions for black families, and placed the burden of production and support on the black community. Post-slavery, the unique demographics of Maryland for a slave state, which positioned Republicans to benefit from a black electorate, shielded African Americans from the worst of Jim Crow laws, but not from a number of other incidences of racism and inequality. For black families who remained in agricultural contexts, working as sharecroppers kept them from advancing economically. Nonetheless, blacks continued to resist racism through methods of separation and self-reliance, building independent communities and institutions. 54 Through these tactics of mobility, separation, and self-reliance, African Americans were able to resist their bondage and carve out independent places within oppressive landscapes. It is through examining these landscapes and how spaces were used on plantations that a more comprehensive understanding of African American life in Maryland will be examined. 55 CHAPTER 4 A MODEL OF PLANTATION LANDSCAPE AND HOUSEHOLD CHANGE FROM SLAVERY TO FREEDOM Over the past 40 years, archaeologists have used a variety of methods and theoretical perspectives to examine the lives of enslaved and free African Americans. Recently, the concept of the cultural landscape has served as a meaningful approach to piecing together myriad social relationships and cultures that co-exist on agricultural plantations. While the use of landscape is not a new approach for archaeologists, it is still in its infancy when compared to other disciplines such as geography, and archaeologists are still wrestling with multiple approaches to interpreting landscape effectively (Green, 1997; De Cunzo and Ernstein, 2006). For this research, the cultural landscape will be used to analyze the transition from slavery to freedom. Within this approach is a theoretical perspective borrowing from critical archaeological understandings of ideology and power, as well as an agency-based approach that allows for the action of multiple, sometimes subversive, ideologies and cultural value systems. These ideas borrow from social theorists such as Foucault, Bourdieu, Lefebvre, Soja, and Marx as they have been applied to material culture studies by historical archaeologists such as Leone, Paynter, Delle, and others, particularly in the context of plantation, household, and community studies. The following chapter will examine the concept of the cultural landscape as a methodological and theoretical tool, and how archaeologists used it to examine the material record. Then, I will make an argument for the use of landscape to examine the spaces of the plantation and the transition from slavery to freedom, and I will present a preliminary theoretical model of the plantation landscape. 56 4.1 Freedom and Agency A working definition of “freedom” is required to understand the actions of African Americans during the process of emancipation. While the traditional narrative implies that African Americans were granted their “freedom” through the Emancipation Proclamation and Constitutional amendments, and that the Civil War was fought for the freedom of the slaves, the reality is that these events only provided black Americans with freedom from slavery. The Civil War, Emancipation, and the Amendments did not provide freedom from a culture of race-based oppression that, despite the change in the legal status of African Americans, continued to influence the political, economic, judicial, and social systems in the American South. When Reconstruction came to an abrupt end in the 1870s, so did adherence of state and local governments to constitutional amendments put in place after the Civil War. The Supreme Court decreed, in essence, that the federal government had no right to enforce the amendments (Blackmon, 2009). While slavery had ended, African Americans in the South were effectively re-enslaved by a system of fear, segregation, and violence. This complicates an abstract understanding of the word “freedom.” John Dewey argued for a more tangible, less abstract definition of freedom than is typically used in American rhetoric, particularly in historical accounts such as the traditional narrative. He argued that freedom has three main components: a) the ability to carry out one’s plans without opposition; b) the ability change those plans; and c) that “desire or choice be factors in those plans or variations” (AgbeDavies, 2011, p. 74). Interrogating freedom in this way allows scholars to develop better criteria for identifying it, both in the historical and material record. In particular, redefining “freedom” provides a tool to understand how individuals and groups carried out their plans. While absolute freedom may have been restricted in many ways, through action African Americans were able to carve out safe places where they could acquire and act out Dewey’s three principals. Action, therefore, becomes an integral part of this study. Thavolia Glymph argued that claims to autonomy made by black Americans must be considered through the intention of their actions and the process of taking these actions. Freedom, Glymph stated, is not a thing you can achieve or a place you can go to, it is “a wide world of actions...[that] testify to the fact that freedom had to 57 be built” (Glymph, 2008, p. 9). While her argument was contextualized in the post-slavery era, it also applies to action during slavery. Examining emancipation as a process reveals that the day-today resistance practiced by slaves culminated in the mass resistance of the Civil War: a series of actions that resulted in the Emancipation Proclamation. This approach, grounded in agency theory, examines how a multitude of actions by the African American community resulted in the building of freedom. Actions taken by African Americans during this era were more than random acts of autonomy: they were imbued with cultural, economic, political, and social meaning. A slave did not resist his or her bondage only because of unhappiness: action often met a practical need, such as to feed a family, or a cultural need, such as raising children with a certain understanding of the world in which they lived. Post-slavery, actions of freedom had an additional layer of meaning: assembling at a church, for example, was more than just an exercise of freedom. It was an act towards freedom from the conscripted religious instruction often dictated by white preachers in white churches to slaves every Sunday. Such an action denotes not only autonomy, but the right and dignity afforded by the freedom to worship and to assemble freely. Actions by enslaved and free blacks during the process of emancipation must be considered in this way: both as actions meant to influence the future and reflecting the conditions and experience of the past. Therefore, freedom is a product of a series of individual and collective actions taken in opposition to oppression. This definition of freedom illuminates the process of emancipation as one of give and take between African Americans and institutions that enslaved or oppressed them. Theoretically, it creates a dialectic relationship of dominance and resistance. Additionally, the social structure of slavery and racism restricted the types of action or resistance that blacks could take, therefore constricting their habitus. Day-to-day choices were restricted. The shift in legal status removed those structural, “magical boundaries,” and replaced them with a different set of restrictions (Bourdieu, 1991). Though no longer enslaved, the ability to act freely was restricted by a system of racism, which had been institutionalized during slavery. Despite this, actions of resistance and separation allowed African American families and communities to establish spaces of 58 freedom within their daily lives. 4.2 What is Landscape? Archaeologists use landscape to investigate how humans have used, manipulated, and crafted space. The concept of the landscape, adopted from geography (Winberry, 1997), provided a unit of analysis wherein archaeologists can examine the environment and human action. Landscape, therefore, is the “spatial manifestation of the adaption of humans in their environment” (Lewis, 1997). Thus, the landscape is not simply a reflection of geographical and environmental space, but the result of the interaction between human activity and the environment. This makes landscape particularly useful to archaeologists, because it allows us to consider the relationship between humans, their environment, and the features they construct in space on multiple scales, not just one that is site-specific. Because landscape analysis allows archaeologists to look at a similar site in a broad context, they can examine large patterns such as: settlement patterning (Lewis, 1997, 1999), social relationships within urban and industrial settings (Beaudry, 1986; Brandon and Davidson, 2005), relationships between planters and slaves on plantations (Epperson, 1999; Delle, 1998, 1999), or even social interactions on household scales (Delle, 2000). Similarly, archaeologists have adapted landscape analysis to examine ideology (Leone, 1984, 2005), gender (Wall, 1994; Delle, 2000; Spencer-Wood and Baugher, 2010), class (Rotman, 2003; Delle, 1999; Nassaney et al., 2001), race (Epperson, 1999; Delle, 2000; Battle-Baptiste, 2010; Mullins and Jones, 2011), and memory (Holtorf and Williams, 2006). Landscape is a useful tool for understanding human social behavior through the archaeological record. First, cultural landscapes are represented through material culture. In almost all instances, humans use material objects to adapt and modify their landscapes: buildings shield humans from the climate, agricultural fields are manipulations of the earth to produce crops, wharves modify coastlines to enhance travel, and fence lines demarcate sections of the physical environment to denote property. Because archaeologists use material culture as a means of examining human 59 behavior, the physical manifestation of the cultural landscape makes this approach particularly conducive to the discipline. Second, landscape analysis reveals change over time. Geological, climatic, and other environmental factors change the landscape, as does daily human activity. As the landscape changes, remnants of the previous landscape remain, leaving an archaeological signature (Lewis, 1997). Additionally, the historical remnants of the landscape are imbued with meaning by contemporary cultures. Archaeologists have considered memorial landscapes as a means to connect the past and present in a cultural sense (Holtorf and Williams, 2006). Third, landscape reflects dominant social constructions. Many social theorists and archaeologists have argued that “social landscapes [are] intimately connected to social structures” (Soja, 1989; Lefebvre, 1991; Brandon and Davidson, 2005, p. 113). Critical archaeologists have argued at length that the landscape provides a framework for understanding the dominant ideology (De Cunzo and Ernstein, 2006). Mark Leone established this through his analysis of archaeology in Annapolis, particularly his look at the William Paca Gardens (Leone, 1984, 2005). He suggests that people who hold social, cultural, and political power have the ability to manipulate and modify their surroundings to present a particular, idyllic landscape. Leone’s approach, considered part of the school of critical archaeology, was itself met with criticism because it neglected the ability for non-dominant groups to negotiate the landscape, a criticism he addressed in his more recent scholarship (Leone, 2005). Nonetheless, this critique highlights a fourth critical component of the landscape analysis: it is not just the study of how people use the land, but also how they see or experience it (Green, 1997). This means that the landscape is experienced, negotiated, and modified differently by different people or groups. This understanding of experience compliments Bourdieu’s concept of habitus, in which an individual’s current conditions and their actions in the past shape and limit the choices they can make in the present. He calls these limits to choice “magical boundaries” (Bourdieu, 1991, p. 121). The landscape can be considered a physical manifestation of these boundaries, placed by competing groups to either restrict or enhance one’s ability to make certain choices. A 60 plantation owner, for example, would shape his landscape in a way that reflected his past (economic status, race, gender, education) and ensured his control over his plantation’s space (represented by the location of buildings, their size, the level of comfort afforded). A slave, on the other hand, experiences the plantation landscape differently: their social context (reflected through race, class, gender, etc.) restrict or change the types of choices they can make, and the landscape serves as a boundary that restricts these choices, since they are predominately shaped by a more dominant cultural factor. The landscape, therefore, can be used by the dominant ideology to create a hegemonic environment that reinforces and replicates social conditions as natural and controls or limits the actions of those with less power (Paynter and McGuire, 1991; Epperson, 1999). The fact that these groups’ choices are limited by social forces does not mean that they lack agency or power. Groups in non-dominant positions still possessed agency, and the ability to make choices and take meaningful action, which can effect the landscape. The way space is constructed or viewed by these individuals or groups can be considered subversive landscapes: they are constructed in opposition to, or in between, the dominant landscape. These landscapes are developed by repurposing or reusing space to reflect their own needs, values, or beliefs, and in so doing often reject or resist the dominant ideology (Battle-Baptiste, 2010). The nature of their subversion, however, makes identifying these landscapes difficult since they were designed to operate in secret, and rarely recorded in documents. Archaeology, therefore, provides a good tool for identifying and examining these subversive landscapes. Because landscapes are interpreted and experienced differently and repeatedly, scholars have developed a discourse to denote areas that have significant social meaning to different groups. As landscapes are experienced, they transform from a “space” to a “place,” imbued with social and cultural meaning for the individual or group who is experiencing it. This transformation is particularly evident in spiritual, historical, familial, or cultural spaces, where important events take place and are memorialized, or certain activities occur with a regularity that gives the space meaning. Once a space acquires this meaning, researchers have begun to consider them “places” 61 to denote their cultural importance (Heath and Bennett, 2000; Heath, 2010; Fesler, 2010). Because the landscape is experienced differently by each person, however, multiple meanings may exist for the same place. The relevance of a place may differ between one individual or group and another, creating potential for conflict and careful negotiation of how places are used, particularly when one group has more power than the other. Because places are experienced differently by different people, a landscape presents an opportunity to examine the landscape from the perspective of non-dominant groups. By considering the landscape in its entirety- not just the structures and features built by the dominant group, but also spaces that are hidden, in between, or seemingly unused- it becomes possible to examine the landscape from the perspective of other inhabitants (Battle-Baptiste, 2010, 2011). These subversive landscapes provide a different perspective and worldview, and challenge the hegemonic narrative produced by the dominant ideology. An important part of this subversion is the ability of multiple landscapes to exist and interact with one another at the same time. Landscapes and the spaces and places that make them up are intertwined and intermingled, making it more difficult to decipher subversive spaces. 4.3 The Plantation Landscape A plantation is an agricultural unit of production designed for the export of staple crops for profit. To meet this end, plantation owners designed and managed their plantations to produce as much crop for as little cost as possible. To maximize profit, plantation owners controlled the time and space afforded to their laborers, thereby controlling the modes of production. To solidify and justify this control, planters aligned themselves with a dominant hegemonic ideology that presented these unequal social relationships as part of the natural world. The more effectively planters presented and embodied this ideology, the more control they (theoretically) enjoyed over their laborers and the more respect they garnered from their peers, resulting in a more profitable plantation. This process is reflected through the plantation landscape, which plantation owners carefully crafted to efficiently produce the crop, control their laborers, and maintain a high profile within their commu62 nity. The landscape, therefore, reflects both operational and ideological constructs (Leone, 2005). These cultural elements mixed with environmental factors in the design of the plantation landscape. Plantation owners chose their desired crop based on the soil and climate conditions: the more compatible a crop was to the environment, the greater potential for profit. The type of crop they planted dictated the amount of space and labor needed. This had an impact on the type of labor that were employed or enslaved, and, subsequently, the way these laborers were managed, controlled, housed, and fed. These differences began to result in very different cultural regions throughout the Americas (Morgan, 1998). Additionally, the environmental landscape was critical in determining where buildings such as the manor home, outbuildings, and work-related structures such as barns and wharves were located. Easy access to transportation was important for both the inhabitants and the export of crops to wider markets. Therefore, many of these buildings were placed close to major waterways or roads. Similarly, because planters were interested in maintaining an idealized impression among their laborers and guests, manor homes were often built in contemporary style and located in prominent positions on the landscape, and the locations of outbuildings and labor quarters were placed in ways that emphasized the owner’s social status in relation to their laborers (Epperson, 1999, 2000). Labor was a critical component of the plantation operation, and was also the most expensive. Planters were cautious about how they managed their labor to maximize profitability. Slavery, wage labor, tenant farming, and sharecropping were popular social and economic relationships that planters entered into with laborers, and each had its own characteristics that contributed profitably for different crops and situations. However, economic relationships between planters and laborers were complicated, particularly in the case of slavery. To keep control over their laborers, planters had to maintain a hegemonic view of the social order that placed them on top and slaves on the bottom. In the case of American slavery, the economic reality of slavery conflicted with its social reality, causing economic and idealogical conflict. Regardless, the plantation landscape reflected the planters’ attempts to maintain this unequal relationship (Lewis, 1985; Delle, 1998). In all cases, laborers were forced to exist within this landscape, and build an understanding of its operation and 63 their function within it. 4.3.1 Multiple Plantation Landscapes The plantation landscape was experienced differently by the individuals and groups who lived and worked within its bounds. For planters, the landscape was constructed for two purposes: to maximize the profitability of their agricultural production and to establish themselves as members of the social elite. For African American laborers, the plantation landscape was a landscape that had to be carefully negotiated to provide security, gain freedom, and establish independent spaces within that l‘andscape to practice their own cultural traditions and establish their own communities. These two perspectives of the landscape were at odds with each other, and often resulted in conflict. Because plantation owners aligned themselves with the dominant social ideology, their plantations reflected similar patterns. While this varied somewhat depending on region and time period, some patterns remained the same. Some of the largest plantations throughout the 18th and 19th centuries such as Mount Vernon and Monticello provide models for the idealized plantation. Most planters could not afford the extravagance of these plantations, but sought to mimic them on smaller scales, thereby aligning themselves with the social elite. In doing so, plantation landscapes were performative: they were used to demonstrate the planter’s status as elite members of society to their peers. The manor home was one of the critical elements of this performance, as it was the place where visitors stayed and were entertained. Having a manor home that reflected contemporary style and that demonstrated a household that operated within the appropriate language of the social elite broadcasted a shared ideology. A controlled landscape and formal gardens also demonstrated the owner’s elite status, as Leone and others have demonstrated through their examination of plantation gardens (Leone, 1984; Luccketti, 1990; Sanford, 1990). Often, the planter landscape extended beyond the scope of the plantation, and were part of larger “articulated and processional” landscapes that demonstrated the planter’s connection to the outside world, and their alignment with, and often domination of, a larger community (Upton, 1990, 1984). 64 The display and control of labor was also critical to the performative landscape. As archaeologists have demonstrated, slave quarters were often placed in the back of or to the side of the manor home, occupying subservient positions on the landscape (Lewis, 1985). As opposed to being placed entirely out of sight, these quarters were close enough so as to be visible to visitors. Plantation laborers were visible only in as much to indicate that they were under the rule of the plantation owner. This meant designing plantation landscapes that kept laborers in separate, but visible, quarters, or manor houses that carefully separated domestic laborers from formal white spaces. This method of display carried into the manor home, where domestic slaves were expected to be visible only in as much as they were required to carry out specific tasks, such as serving dinner, while other activities, such as cooking and cleaning, were done out of sight. This use of the landscape wained, however, after Emancipation: many former slaves moved their families to homes on other parts of the plantation or off the plantation to gain visual separation from their former masters. The plantation landscape was also designed to establish a controlled space for the production of staple crops. During slavery, planters achieved this by creating a landscape that controlled their laborer’s use of space. Delle demonstrates the use of surveillance as a primary tool for organizing the plantation landscape (Delle, 1998, 1999). Putting the slave quarters and agricultural buildings within sight of the manor home and overseer allowed for constant panoptic surveillance during all parts of the day. The plantation also included alternative landscapes that existed on multiple levels. While plantation laborers were subject to landscapes and rules that systematically placed them in subjugated positions and required them to abide by certain constraints for their own survival, they also practiced subversive activities on spaces often neglected by plantation owners. Spaces such as the wilderness, work areas, and the laborers’ domestic quarters provided physical spaces for laborers to resist the dominate hegemony and to establish an independent counter narrative (Battle-Baptiste, 2011). Even spaces outside the plantation, when accessible, offered opportunities for these counter narratives to develop. Laborers had to delicately negotiate two landscapes: the white, hegemonic 65 landscape they actively resisted, and the one they cultivated for themselves. Archaeological and historical research suggests that counter narratives woven by African American laborers would have conflicted with the individualistic ideology of the planters. This makes sense, considering most African Americans were systematically excluded from participating in the dominant narrative, and they were actively precluded from owning possessions or expressing their individualism. During slavery, they were legally unable to own property, and for much of the period following slavery most were not able to cast a vote or run for government office. After gaining their freedom, systematic racism often kept African Americans from accessing resources and employment that would allow them to purchase property. Therefore, African Americans established their own set of behaviors that allowed them to cultivate their own sense of family and community within an oppressive landscape. Through actions of resistance, laborers developed their own spaces within and outside the plantation landscape to practice their own cultural traditions. Considering the conditions of African American life in the 17th, 18th, 19th, and 20th centuries, creating this separation was integral to surviving, navigating, and protecting themselves from the harsh conditions of slavery and racism. Because the plantation landscape was inhabited by two groups who’s objectives were at odds with each other, it was a constant source of dialectic negotiation and potential conflict. Archaeologists have seized on plantations as a means of examining this negotiation through the cultural landscape and other forms of material culture, and have demonstrated how each side has either maintained or resisted control. Additionally, archaeologists have begun to look at the spaces in between to understand how African Americans used material culture to resisting the dominant ideology and cultivate their own. By approaching the landscape from this direction, archaeologists are able to “see” the plantation from the perspective of the laborer, not only the planter. Recently, archaeologists have begun to understand the plantation in terms of a series of functional activity spheres (Upton, 1984, 1990; Vlach, 1993; Battle-Baptiste, 2011). Dell Upton’s groundbreaking landscape analysis of plantations began the conversation on understanding plantation landscapes within a larger, interconnected context. Upton argued that the landscapes of domi- 66 nant white culture in Virginia were part of an “articulated spatial network” consisting of “houses, churches, courthouses, and other public structures, as well as the roads that connected them” (Upton, 1990, p. 72). This landscape, however, stood in stark contrast to those of poor whites and enslaved blacks, which “appeared as a ragged patchwork of free and controlled spaces, one that was neither systematic nor particularly coherent” (Upton, 1990, p. 72-73). Upton, therefore, began the conversation about the plantation as a place where multiple landscapes existed, and that they were often overlapping, contrasting, complex, and difficult to understand. Archaeologists have followed Upton’s identification of an articulated and processional landscape (Upton, 1984) by examining how planters built their plantations and surrounding yards and arranged their plantation’s labor. Examining gardens has been one of the primary means by which landscape archaeologists have demonstrated the planter’s use of space to control nature, and align themselves with a ideology of individualism by demonstrating their fluency in concepts of geometry, plant life, and so on (Leone, 1984, 2005; Kelso, 1990; Luccketti, 1990; Sanford, 1990). Building an understanding of how plantation landscapes were controlled has also been examined. Lewis noted that the spatial alignment of slave quarters and manor houses reflected a dominant and subordinate position (Lewis, 1985), while Epperson built on this model by examining how spatial organization was used to legitimize and reinforce the social construction of race (Epperson, 1999). Further investigations have also revealed the use of the landscape to develop plantations of surveillance through panopticons as a means for maintaining control (Delle, 1999; Epperson, 2000). Vlach delved more deeply into the architecture on plantation landscapes to examine how African Americans negotiated and organized their spatial realities (Vlach, 1993). His analysis considered each type of architectural grouping on the plantation, including the manor house, outbuildings, slave quarters, and barns, from the perspective of the enslaved. Vlach’s interrogation of plantation structures and spaces provided one of the first glimpses into how these buildings were experienced and used as a means of resistance and building community from the enslaved perspective. 67 Battle-Baptiste also approached the plantation with a particular emphasis on understanding the landscape from the perspective of the enslaved (Battle-Baptiste, 2011). Her Functional Plantation Model identified areas that defined the plantation’s function as a entity designed to produce a profit, but also to emphasized the spaces on the plantation where blacks would have worked, socialized, and interacted, both amongst themselves and with their owners (Battle-Baptiste, 2011). BattleBaptiste’s work built on that of Upton and Vlach, providing an archaeologically focused model for interpreting landscape through material culture. Of particular note is the Functional Plantation Model’s focus not only on architectural features, but also the spaces in between, where the activity of resistance and community activity took place (Battle-Baptiste, 2010, 2011). The Model identifies four areas of analysis: the Plantation Proper, the Captive African Domestic Sphere, Work Spaces, and the Wilderness. Battle-Baptiste’s investigation of the Captive African Domestic Sphere suggests how this model can be used to examine the lives of enslaved African Americans on plantations. The research revealed that the domestic quarters of enslaved communities functioned as a “multi-family cooperative domestic exchange system,” relying on each other as a means of completing chores, raising children, socializing, and dealing with the complexities of their oppression and resistance (BattleBaptiste, 2011, p. 94). Particular focus is placed on the concept of homespace, which includes the dwelling, yardspace, and spaces between and around quarters where enslaved blacks could escape the brutality of slavery, racism, and oppression, as well as “regroup, to learn strategies of survival, find strength, and create thoughts of resistance” (Battle-Baptiste, 2011, p. 95). The physical act of yard sweeping reflects this concept, both as an act of defining a “space” as a “place", and also as an act of spiritual protection (Battle-Baptiste, 2010, 2011). Other archaeologists have made similar arguments through the examination of yard sweeping, in addition to demonstrating their existence archaeologically (Heath and Bennett, 2000; Fesler, 2010). Community exchange has also been examined by Young, who argues for the communal trading of goods between neighboring households (Young, 2003), further emphasizing the cooperative exchange taking place among the enslaved. Other uses of space to define household ownership are observable through the spiritual 68 use of the cosmogram and the burying of caches around the quarters (Brown, 2011). Such actions indicate that the domestic household space was a cultural and spiritual homespace for families and communities to engage in a counter narrative focused on communal exchange and mutual benefit. One element of plantation archaeology that has been lacking is an understanding of how the plantation landscape was affected by the changing sociopolitical and economic process of emancipation. While discussions of resistance are paramount to this understanding during slavery, only a few scholars have examined how the post-slavery era was manifest in the material record from both the perspectives of planters and free blacks on the plantation. A number of archaeologists have made calls for others to consider this context through research (Barnes, 2011; Orser, 1988; Singleton, 2011). Those who have examined the transition to emancipation have done so with a focus on understanding the connections post-slavery life has to slavery, changes in plantation structure and organization (Orser Jr, 1988a), African American consumer choices (Mullins, 1999), and how African Americans built and developed new institutions on scales outside of the plantation as ways to engage in building community (Agbe-Davies, 2011). These studies indicate that African Americans emphasized communal and familial self-sufficiency, separation, and self-improvement to lessen the harms of racism and oppression. In many ways, these practices are similar to those expressed by African Americans during slavery, only emancipation created a larger landscape and more tools by which to practice them. Charles Orser examined a 19th-century plantation in Georgia to understand post-slavery agricultural life. His study has provided a starting point for archaeologists interested in how plantation landscapes changed with evolving labor relationships during the 1860s and 1870s (Orser, 1988). His spatial analysis of tenant homes, influenced by a similar study during the 1950s by Prunty (Prunty, 1955), indicated three phases of settlement patterning, where the quarters expand from slave villages, to tiny “squads” of homes, to individual homes spread across the landscape (Orser Jr and Nekola, 1985; Orser, 1988). These arrangements indicated the shift in how plantations were managed, and the changing relationship between landlord and tenant, with the landlord using these expansive landscapes as a means of dividing the African American community 69 (Orser Jr and Nekola, 1985). Others have argued, however, that the spread out settlement patterning may also have been a result of African Americans choosing to widen the separation between their homes and those of their former masters (Penningroth, 2003). James Delle used the concept of “spatialities” to examine the Jamaican plantation landscape post-slavery. He argues that free laborers were very reluctant to take part in the capitalist European economy as wage laborers. Instead, “it was the desire of many African Jamaican laborers to create a tangible, material independence from their former slave masters” (Delle, 1998, p. 201). This led to many plantations breaking up, small plots were sold to the laborers, and the land was used to create self-sufficient farms. As Delle notes, the post-slavery era saw a debate between black laborers and white planters over how land and labor should be used: for self-sufficiency or profit. David Palmer investigated Louisiana sugar plantations, establishing that Jim-Crow era African Americans actively maintained and asserted their dignity through the practices of self-sufficiency and self-provisioning (Palmer, 2011). These activities, he argued, were more than acts of basic survival: free blacks took pride in their ability to provide for their families independent of whites. Carl Steen used material evidence such as fishing weights, drawing slate, and fancy buttons and collar stays to suggest that “former enslaved laborers sought to become citizens through education, community building, and creating places of their own” (Steen, 2011, p. 107-108). Luanna DeCunzo argued that free black families in Delaware relied on washing and sewing done by the women in the household to provide a secondary income, and identified these activities through the presence of buttons, thimbles, and pins (De Cunzo, 1998). This practice would have contributed to maintaining the economic independence of a household, an activity that was of particular importance since black sharecroppers and tenant farmers regularly battled debt. Archaeology conducted at the Levi Plantation has examined a number of components relating to the transition from slavery to freedom. Kenneth Brown’s analysis showed the reuse and modification of duplex slave quarters into multi-room, single-family homes during the post-slavery era (Brown, 2004). Brown has focused on how the household was used as a spiritual place for the enslaved and tenant farmers. He noted the possible continuation of the “crossroads” pattern of the 70 BaKongo cosmogram as a marker of homes of enslaved spiritual leaders, and 20th century religious spaces, through a series of buried artifact caches (Brown, 2011). Such conclusions indicate that African Americans in the post-slavery era continued to use similar strategies during slavery, but instead to define their own concepts of freedom and citizenry. Self-improvement and community organization have also been considered primary factors in the post-slavery era. Archaeology at the Phyllis Wheatley Home for Girls in Chicago, Illinois, highlighted the importance of education, advancement, and community for African American girls (Agbe-Davies, 2011). The Boston Saloon in Virginia City, Nevada also indicates the establishment of a place where African Americans socialized and built community outside of the plantation (Dixon, 2011). Archaeology at the house of Harriet Tubman, which was used as a retirement home for elderly African Americans, suggested a similar use of space to create places for black communities, as well as carrying on the tradition of communal living (Armstrong, 2011). The emergence of black schools and churches during the late nineteenth century further emphasizes this growing pattern of establishing separate, black institutions on local and regional scales, a pattern that was more restricted or impossible, particularly in the rural South, during slavery. In each instance, archaeologists have brought to the forefront concepts of separation and selfsufficiency as a means by which African Americans resisted the racism and oppression that continued post-slavery, although on new scales of interaction within the family and community. Nonetheless, these themes suggest that African Americans continued to practice a separate ideology of mutual cooperation, albeit in different spaces and places and on different scales. To further understand how this transition occurred on the post-slavery plantation landscape, and its relationship to the landscapes of plantation slavery, a model must be constructed that considers these themes. 4.4 The Household It is almost impossible to discuss the plantation landscape without also discussing the concepts of the household, family, and community. The built environment of the plantation landscape is almost entirely comprised of multiple households, if not a household in its own right, which are 71 all comprised of different families and communities, unrelated individuals, slaves and servants. The plantation landscape serves as the area where these groups interact, share activities, engage in conflict, and negotiate space. Establishing distinctions between these three terms, and how they are understood in the context of this research, is critical to examining how life changed during and after slavery. The household is one of the “fundamental elements of human society,” and provides a critical unit of analysis that can be examined archaeologically due to their association with dwellings and the people who live within them (Wilk and Ashmore, 1988, p. 2). Anthropologists have argued that a household is not necessarily a kin group, but instead should be defined by the actions that households take: certain activities define a household, not the individuals that make it up (Netting et al., 1984). Wilk and Ashmore, therefore, argue that “a household is a social unit” comprised of a group of people who share a number of activities, including “one of the following: production, consumption, pooling of resources, reproduction, coresidence, and shared ownership” (Wilk and Ashmore, 1988, p. 6). A coresidential group is a social unit that consists “of the group of people who regularly share living quarters” (Wilk and Ashmore, 1988, p. 6). A coresidential group does not necessarily equal a household, since not all members of the group may participate in the requisite shared activities. It can also be part of a larger household or may contain more than one household. It also may not be part of a household at all. One type of social unit that often resides as a coresidential group is a family. Families are social units established through kin, and their are a variety of different configurations which can comprise a family, most often divided between a nuclear family and an extended family. While families are often coresidential, they are not tied to geographic space and do not always comprise a household. Extended families, in particular, often reside in separate dwellings, and may be separated by great distances. A dwelling “is a physical structure or area within which residential activities took place” (Wilk and Ashmore, 1988, p. 6). It is where the activities of a household take place, and is where a 72 coresidential group resides. However, a dwelling does not equate a household: multiple dwellings can make up a household. Similarly, multiple households could exist within a dwelling. A community is a social institution that “generates and is generated by supra-household interactions” that are “structured and synchronized by a set of places within a...span of time” (Yaeger and Canuto, 2000, p. 5). A community is based on the shared experience, belief, or ideas of the members of different households, and are often relegated to a particular space or place. However, it is possible for “imagined communities” to emerge, based on the broader transmission of ideas through larger networks of communication, such as newspapers (Anderson, 2006). Households, families, and individuals can be part of communities, and can belong to multiple communities at one time. Christopher Fennell argues that social groups can change through internal and external forces: members can leave and join the group, a change in the conditions that surround the group, or through a dialectic relationship between two groups (Fennell, 2003). These forces, and the reactions to them by the members of a social group, shape the way the group is formed and defined, meaning that they are socially constituted. This means that these social groups can change through time, making them particularly useful concepts for examining historically. Another critical element of these social groups is their relationship to space and material culture. In each instance, these social groups perform activities in space. Households and coresidential groups, for example, use dwellings and the spaces surrounding them to perform the activities necessary for survival. Communities are also related to space, as proximity of households are, often, important to their makeup. These spaces are also defined by certain material patterns that may indicate communal activity. Plantations serve as a vehicle for understanding all of these different social units. Plantations are comprised of numerous dwellings for both white, enslaved, and free blacks, and comprise multiple types of coresident groups, households, and communities. Archaeologists have examined these groups, arguing for concepts such as “nested households,” where enslaved households are almost sub households of a larger plantation (Anderson, 2004). Others have argued that enslaved 73 families worked together in cooperative partnerships, essentially forming multi-dwelling households (Battle, 2004; Battle-Baptiste, 2011). Similary, multiple households have been considered part of a larger enslaved plantation community, based on the shared experience of enslavement (Heath, 2012), and these communities often span plantation boundaries, often connected through divided families (Nesbit, 2011; Boroughs, 2013). After Emancipation, households began to transition towards single family, single dwelling organizations dispersed across the landscape, resulting in the disintegration of the black community on the plantation (Orser Jr and Nekola, 1985). 4.5 A Spatial Plantation Model of the Transition from Slavery To Freedom An archaeologically testable model to examine the transition from slavery to freedom in Southern Maryland must consider the sociohistorical processes discussed in Chapters 2 and 3, while also considering the archaeological concepts and studies discussed above. The model must present archaeologically comparable elements of plantation landscapes. This model will borrow from work by Battle-Baptiste, Vlach, and Upton to establish spheres for understanding the period of slavery, while considering the recent work of archaeologists and historians to inform the post-slavery period. The perspectives of planters and laborers must also be considered in the development of this model, as each contributed to the construction, maintenance, destruction, modification, and interpretation of the plantation landscape. Therefore, the model must allow for examining each perspective, as well as the times and spaces where these perspectives interacted. Two geographic areas will be examined as they relate to the plantation: first, the landscape of the plantation and the different spatial areas that make it up, and second, the areas outside the plantation. This approach allows for the plantation to be considered both on its interior activities, but also allows for the lives of African Americans and white planters to be considered within a larger socioeconomic context. It is also important to note that each sphere may be used or exploited in different degrees by different groups, depending on the context within which they are examined. It is only by looking at all the spaces cumulatively that we are able to determine the strategies used by each group to determine the strategies they used to react to the social processes under 74 examination. 4.5.1 On the Plantation This area of analysis considers the area bounded by the plantation itself, but may relate to a number of scales or spaces within the plantation. The landscape of each plantation, while different, often included the same functional areas such as the manor home, work areas, the enslaved or laborer domestic space, and areas of wilderness (Battle-Baptiste, 2011). These areas can be considered on multiple scales and from varying perspectives depending on the positionality of the historical actor. 4.5.2 The Plantation Proper This sphere examines the areas on the plantation as they relate to each other, and can be examined from the perspective of the planter or laborer. Adopted from Battle-Baptiste’s Functional Plantation Model (Battle-Baptiste, 2011), The Plantation Proper examines the plantation as a whole and how it operated as a “distinct entity” (Battle-Baptiste, 2011, p. 87). This includes understanding the positioning of labor quarters, the manor home and outbuildings, barns, and fields as they relate to the everyday operation of the plantation as a producer of a staple crop. This sphere raises questions about the production of agricultural crops and the control and management of labor on the landscape. This focuses primarily on the plantation from the perspective of the planter, and how the landscape is manipulated to maximize the profitability of his plantation. However, these decisions directly effect the day-to-day lives and experiences of the enslaved population. During slavery, the scale of the plantation and its agricultural functions dictated how many slaves were needed to operate the plantation to keep the manor home running effectively, managed through buying, selling, and naturally producing more laborers. These actions directly affected enslaved families and communities, as members were removed and added through sale, and families were encouraged and then divided. This was reflected in the plantation landscape by the amount of 75 space and buildings provided to house the enslaved laborers, and to control their movements and actions. Post-slavery, the operation of the plantation continued to affect black families through economic disenfranchisement. Dependent on the crops being produced and their need for cheap labor, planters engaged in unequal labor arrangements that placed undue burden and debt on black families. While freedom from slavery did provide new opportunities outside the plantation or within former slaves’ domestic spaces, the plantation itself continued to be controlled by the planter, and this sphere of influence still adversely affected the lives of black families. The landscape provides one way in which these changes can be studied. 4.5.3 The Labor Sphere The labor sphere constitutes the areas where enslaved and free laborers worked on the plantation. Battle-Baptiste included the fields, barns, stables, and blacksmith shops within this sphere (BattleBaptiste, 2011). However, areas such as the manor home, outbuildings, work yards, orchards, stables and cellars were also areas of work that enslaved African Americans used daily (Vlach, 1993). This sphere can be understood first from the perspective of the planter. Barns and agricultural buildings reflect the types of crops or other items being produced and the type of agricultural machinery available to the planters and laborers. The positioning of these buildings reflects the efforts to maintain control over labor and maximize efficiency. The manor home reflects the social and economic status of the inhabitants, and their demonstration of that power to their peers. The organization of the rooms within the building reflects their social relationships and control over their laborers. Thavolia Glymph has argued that historians must pay attention to the role of domestic workers in scholarship, a study that would benefit from archaeological analysis (Glymph, 2008). In each component of the labor sphere, black laborers served as the primary means of production and labor, be it through planting and harvesting crops, tending to livestock, making craft goods such as blacksmithing, carpentry, or spinning, or cooking, cleaning, and serving in the planter’s home. 76 Domestic slaves were, in many respects, members of the planter’s household, as they carried out activities such as production, coresidence, and raising children. They also were the most publicly displayed of the enslaved population to visitors, making them an integral part of the performative landscape. Workspaces provide cultural and practical insight into the way work affected the daily lives of African Americans. First, workspaces should be understood in how they were designed to process the activity at hand. Identifying the type of technology used and how the space was designed and organized provides insights into the daily activity of laborers and the physical, mental, and emotional toll that operating the machinery would have exacted upon them. Such analysis could include examining barn types to determine the type of crop being produced, which may give insight into the labor requirements and expectations. Second, workspaces should be examined culturally. Workspaces reveal how planters and overseers used space as a means to control their laborers, encourage production and deter insubordination. Additionally, we can consider the impact of agricultural labor on black bodies, the work responsibilities of men, women, and children, and the reaction by laborers to the excessive workloads that were expected of them (Battle-Baptiste, 2011). Studying work spaces also indicates how the enslaved resisted their bondage and oppressive work conditions, either through sabotage or work slowdowns, or how they repurposed their work spaces to serve additional functions (StewartAbernathy, 2004) such as work socials (Berry, 2007), gaining political information (Hahn, 2003), or to access education (Williams, 2005). Post-slavery, examining workspaces illustrates the transition to different labor arrangements played out on the landscape, and how these landscapes were negotiated by free black laborers and their landlords. Because these relationships were primarily economic in nature, this change should be reflected in the landscape, which was largely established during slavery to maintain control. Because control was, in theory, no longer necessary, the landscape should reflect this shift. Work spaces allow archaeologists to examine questions about self-sustainability on black farms, the changing means of production from community to family, and new responsibilities 77 and negotiations that Emancipation brought to questions about work (Penningroth, 2003). Black families, now in charge of who worked when and where, led to negotiations within the family about the roles of men, women, and children (Penningroth, 2003). It also created new areas of work, as black farmers and their families began to look for additional sources of income to supplement their meager earnings as sharecroppers or tenant farmers. The landscape of work, therefore, will begin to interfere and cross over with other spaces on the plantation, such as the Domestic Sphere, or Outside the Plantation. 4.5.4 The African American Domestic Sphere The third space represented in the model is the domestic sphere of African American laborers. Battle-Baptiste called this sphere the “Captive African Domestic Sphere,” altered here to encapsulate the period of slavery and post-slavery. As Battle-Baptiste noted, this sphere had multiple meanings for the laborers who lived there, as it was the center for “life, culture, tradition, and humanity” (Battle-Baptiste, 2011, p. 87). For enslaved and free black tenant families, the domestic sphere was a critical space that was separate from the oppressive, controlling, and racist society within which they lived and worked. It is important to note that the domestic sphere is not exclusively the space of any particular dwelling: the domestic sphere includes the dwelling, the spaces outside the dwelling, the spaces between dwellings, and collections of multiple dwellings. Within this sphere, dwellings, households, families, and communities could all exist, change, and disappear. During slavery, evidence suggests that the nuclear family could not serve as the primary unit of social organization for the enslaved due to the existence of the slave trade: the family unit was likely to be divided (Battle-Baptiste, 2011). A greater emphasis, therefore, was placed on the cooperation of the enslaved community to share the work of the household. Relying on unrelated members of the plantation community became a more practical way for individuals and members of divided families to gain the support that was needed to survive slavery. Battle-Baptiste suggested that we consider these “multiple family cooperative domestic exchanges,” where coresi- 78 dent groups worked together to establish multi-family, multi-dwelling households (Battle-Baptiste, 2011, p. 94). Battle-Baptiste also established the aforementioned concept of homespace, wherein the place of “home” takes an added dimension as a refuge from the multiple levels of oppression that was felt on the plantation, labor, and off the plantation scales. These households could also operate as a larger community, where the common experience of slavery and bondage was shared, and collaborative strategies were used to mitigate its effects. After slavery, the conditions of the black household shifted from multi-family, multi-dwelling households to single-family, single-dwelling households. Freedom from slavery meant that African Americans were able to choose where they lived and who they lived with, and the family unit became the most critical unit of survival in the domestic sphere. New economic relationships were also established between the planter and a family, transferring the activity of production to the single-family household. The emphasis on family is reflected through the changing landscape of the plantation. Dwellings move further away from the manor home, creating separation between the planter and the black farmers, but also between black families. Gradually, the emphasis on the multi-family cooperative domestic exchange diminishes, and the family becomes a self-sufficient household. To do so, families engaged in additional activities to supplement their income, such as building crafts, oystering and fishing, or washing and sewing, all activities that took place in the family dwelling. The necessity of a homespace did not change. Freedom from slavery did not mean freedom from racism, sexism, and poverty. The homespace, therefore, served a very similar function as it did during slavery, only it was largely focused on the family within the domestic sphere. The changing landscape, however, did erode the plantation community, forcing that practice to a different scale of analysis off the plantation. 4.5.5 The Wilderness The wilderness sphere accounts for the undeveloped spaces on and around the plantation, including forests, uncultivated and fallow fields, rivers, ravines, lakes, and streams. These spaces had 79 important cultural significance to enslaved populations because they were secretive, hidden, and relatively unused spaces by the white community. The wilderness sphere included spaces where African Americans could supplement their diets through hunting, gathering, and fishing. Herbs could also be used for medicinal and spiritual applications. Spaces in the woods were also used as secretive areas to hide contraband, stow away escaping slaves, practice religious ceremonies and traditions, meet with and visit members of other plantations, and bury their dead (Battle-Baptiste, 2011). For free blacks, the wilderness continued to be critical to their survival. After the Civil War, wooded spaces were often used for religious congregations while raising money to build more permanent structures. Because many black families remained in poverty, the wilderness continued to provide nutritional, medicinal, and spiritual resources. The pathways used during slavery continued to be used to network families and communities since they avoided more public pathways and reduced the possibility of encountering racism. In Maryland, the waterways were used as a nutritional and economic supplement, as many blacks became oystermen (McDaniel, 1982). While the wilderness sphere has largely been unexamined by archaeologists and historians, it must be considered as a critical area that was regularly used by black populations both during and after slavery as places of resistance and survival. 4.5.6 Outside the Plantation In addition to operating within the plantation, planters and laborers used spaces that were external to the plantation for social, economic, political, and ideological purposes. To better understand the lives of those who lived on the plantation, and the way they responded to the social processes of the 19th century, their relationships to these spaces must be understood and examined. This can be done in two ways. First, the spaces outside the plantation can be examined in the context of their relationship to the plantation landscape or the groups and individuals who live and work on the plantation. Second, areas on the plantation can be considered in respect to their function as gateways or tools for engaging and interacting with spaces, institutions, or individuals from outside 80 the plantation. Often, these two perspectives are integrated, with spaces on the plantation acting in concert with spaces outside the plantation. In each instance, the plantation landscape is considered part of a larger socioeconomic context, both reflecting and interacting with a larger cultural landscape. This perspective provides for an added layer of interpretation and understanding about the relationships between planters and laborers, and the ways that spaces outside of the plantation were used, manipulated, controlled, and negotiated through time. 4.5.6.1 Spaces Off the Plantation Understanding spaces outside the plantation and the way that the plantation and its inhabitants interact with them is an additional scale to examine the way that space and place are defined, contested, and manipulated. Included in this dimension are inquiries regarding the planter’s use of the public space as a means of aligning his plantation with a dominant ideology and social elite, his interaction with external economic markets, and his use of the dominant social hegemony to maintain control of African Americans outside of the plantation. During and after slavery, this is often reflected through the extension of the planter’s activities into public institutions such as churches, government buildings, schools, memorial spaces, areas of trade like wharves or markets, and other areas of industry. These relationships are inherently spatial, and serve as a means for planters to heighten their social status among their peers and also over their laborers, by ensuring that these spaces reflect their hegemonic interest in the status quo. For enslaved laborers, external spaces are delicate areas to navigate. Despite controlled access to external spaces, enslaved laborers were able to participate in activities outside the plantation’s boundaries. In most cases, this activity was sanctioned by their slaveowner, but in other cases it was subversive. Enslaved laborers traversed the landscape to run errands, to participate in external markets, to maintain family relationships via abroad marriages, to attend church, through the process of being rented or sold, or to escape their bondage. Understanding these spaces, and the constraints, restrictions, risks, and rewards inherent in the slaves’ use of them, allows for an extension of our understanding of the cultural landscape of bondage. 81 Post-slavery, access to spaces outside the plantation increased. African American families used their newfound mobility to re-integrate divided families, leave oppressive and unfair working conditions, and establish their own towns and villages. Institutionally, churches and schools were established outside the plantation and independent of white oversight, providing opportunities for community development, social and religious engagement, and self-improvement. These spaces also provided some protection from the racist social, economic, and judicial systems that were established during the post-slavery era, although often not enough. While spaces such as African American churches were often free from racism, the spaces in between were controlled by white law enforcement. Blacks had to navigate spaces outside the plantation with caution to avoid incarceration or more extreme violence such as lynching or re-enslavement (Blackmon, 2009). Navigating these spaces was made possible through the freedom of mobility. While still restricted in some ways due to the presence of racism and Jim Crow laws, being able to move freely across the wider cultural landscape meant that black Americans could engage in their own migration from one location to the other. This allowed them to avoid situations of oppression and racism, either by relocating to an African American town or neighborhood, finding different employment, creating new community institutions such as churches and schools, or taking paths that bypassed white areas. The freedom of mobility allowed black families and communities to establish public places of their own, which were critical to their ability to fight racism and oppression and define freedom for themselves. 4.5.6.2 Spaces On the Plantation Spaces located on the plantation also played a critical role in the way that plantation landscapes extend and incorporate external plantations. For planters, these plantation spaces were considered performative landscapes, meaning that they demonstrated the planter’s social status and ideological positioning. This was done by placing their wealth, prestige, lineage, and the ability to “speak” the language of the elite on display through the physical space in the language of the social elite. The orientation of the plantation landscape, and the location and architectural style of the built 82 environment such as the manor home, labor quarters, and agricultural buildings, were all part of this performative landscape. Similarly, the relationship of the plantation and manor home to spaces outside the plantation, part of the "articulated" landscape discussed by Upton (Upton, 1984), also provide a conduit to the plantation’s relationship to the outside world. This organization can also be examined on smaller scales of the plantation, such as the architectural organization of the manor home’s interior, and the sight lines of plantation visitors. During and after slavery, a visitor to a plantation will experience a series of viewscapes and experiences that will demonstrate the social and political power of the planter and his family. For the enslaved, certain spaces on the plantation can be considered conduits or access points for information from outside the plantation. The manor home and its outbuildings and work yard become critical areas for gathering information. A carriage house and the carriage driver were an access point for the enslaved population to other plantations that are visited by the plantation owner. Similarly, the kitchen and work yard may have served as places of interaction between the plantation’s enslaved and visiting carriage drivers, footmen, and ladies maids. In these spaces, slaves from different plantations could share gossip and pass information. The manor house itself would serve as a space for domestic slaves to eavesdrop on the conversation of the planter’s family and guests. The slave quarters may also serve as a conduit or reflection of the outside world. It is here that objects and materials were produced to be sold in markets, or where purchased goods were used and discarded. By examining these spaces as subversive landscapes from the perspective of the enslaved, they become important conduits to the outside world. Post-slavery, the value of some of these spaces as information gathering areas decreased since African Americans were able to communicate with their community in independent institutional scales such as at church. However, they still served these functions. The laborer’s domestic sphere, however, becomes an even more integral space regarding the interaction with external spaces. It was here that children participated in home work, or where families engaged in the production of marketable goods or trades such as small scale farming or washing and sewing. These activities were crucial to the maintenance of an independent income. Again, the goods and items purchased 83 outside the plantation were again displayed, stored, and used within the quarter, and represent access to external markets. Examining the plantation landscape provides an opportunity to examine the process of emancipation, and to understand how the lives of African Americans changed during and after slavery. The use of cultural landscape analysis provides a theoretical and methodological framework within which to examine multiple scales of the plantation from multiple perspectives, making it a useful approach for examining the material record of this transition. In particular, it highlights the conflicting ideologies that were employed by white and black Americans, and how those ideologies are transposed on the landscape. The Spatial Plantation Model allows archaeologists to begin examining this landscape and these multiple ideological perspectives, in particular how they were reflected in the landscape, and how they changed over time. 84 CHAPTER 5 DATA AND RESEARCH QUESTIONS St. Mary’s City is located in Southern Maryland, along Maryland’s western shore, approximately 60 miles southeast of Washington, D.C. The City lies along the bank of the St. Mary’s River, a tributary of the Potomac, and rests approximately 10 miles from the southeastern tip of St. Mary’s County, where the Potomac and Patuxent Rivers meet in the Chesapeake Bay. The site under investigated in this research is owned by the State of Maryland as part of Historic St. Mary’s City (HSMC), a living history and archaeology museum. For the past 40 years, HSMC has examined the history and archaeological remains of St. Mary’s City. Founded in 1634, St. Mary’s City was the first capital of Maryland until it was relocated to Annapolis at the end of the 17th century. St. Mary’s City is a National Historic Landmark and Historic District. The Museum is neighbors to St. Mary’s College of Maryland (SMCM) and the Trinity Episcopal Church, all which lie along Maryland Route 5 which cuts through the landscape and along the River. Despite this cluster of activity and its moniker, St. Mary’s City has been a rural landscape since its governmental function moved to Annapolis. There are no above ground remains of the early city on the current landscape. HSMC has used archaeological and historical research to recreate a number of the 17th-century buildings for interpretive purposes. Nineteenth-century buildings remained on the landscape until 1992. Aside from one barn, HSMC moved these buildings to other areas of their property in order to better interpret the 17th-century space. These 19th-century buildings were part of a large tobacco and wheat plantation that began operation in 1840. The buildings continued to be occupied after 1890, 85 when large-scale plantation style agriculture ceased and most of the acreage was sold. SMCM and Trinity Church were also part of this 19th-century landscape, and their early iterations will be included in this research. While the Museum has not focused on the research, preservation, and public interpretation of the 19th-century landscape, archaeological, historical, and architectural data has been collected through the years regarding this period of occupation. Recently, HSMC has put forth more effort and resources towards the research and public interpretation of the 19thcentury landscape. This research is a product of that interest. 5.1 Archaeological Data The area most densely populated during the 17th century also served as the center of plantation activity during the 19th century. Over the past four decades, archaeological investigations of 17th century sites has also meant the excavation of 19th century sites. Little analysis, however, has been completed on the 19th century components. Systematic archaeological excavations have been conducted at St. Mary’s City since 1971 by HSMC. The entire area is given a Maryland Site Inventory designation SM29 and the National Archaeological Site Designation 18ST1. All the excavations being used in this study have followed a similar research methodology. The site grid is aligned with the State of Maryland coordinate system, and sites are divided into 10 ft. square excavation units. During the 1970s, these units were excavated in their entirety. However, during the early 1980s, the methodology changed, and the 10 ft. by 10 ft. units were subdivided into 5 ft. by 5 ft. quadrants for better spatial control. All soil is screened through 1/4” mesh screens, unless indicated otherwise in the descriptions below. 5.1.1 “Mattapany Path” Road System Survey The Mattapany Path Road System Reconstruction Project was conducted during the 1990s in a collaboration between HSMC and the State Highway Administration (SHA). The purpose of the survey was to identify the development of Maryland’s earliest road system in St. Mary’s City, and 86 to locate all the cultural resources within the study zone (Miller et al., 2006). The survey area covered 33 acres including two land tracts known as Governor’s Field and Chapel Land. These areas constitute the heart of St. Mary’s City, including the 17th-century city and the 19th-century plantation. The project was divided into two phases. Phase I involved controlled surface collection and the excavation of shovel test pits (STP) on a 25-acre tract. Surface collection of artifacts, conducted over freshly plowed fields, were taken from 8,943 10 ft. by 10 ft. squares and the excavation of 596 STPs. Phase II involved the testing of select sites with 5 ft. by 5 ft. excavation squares. During phase II, 90 squares were dug on 16 different site components. In the final report, the identified sites were combined with previously surveyed and excavated archaeological components to create a comprehensive database of archaeological sites at St. Mary’s City. In total, 63 archaeological site components were identified from the project, ranging from the Early Archaic Period through the 20th century. Nineteenth century occupations that were likely that of enslaved African Americans and tenant farmers, including clusters from the 18th-century and the 19th-century, were among those site components identified. The 1840 landscape was prominently represented, both through recently existing structures and archaeological sites (Miller et al., 2006). 5.1.2 Search for the “Citty of Saint Maries” Project In 1981, HSMC carried out a three-year project to identify the spatial organization of the 17thcentury colonial city. The National Endowment for the Humanities and the State of Maryland funded the project, and resulted in the discovery of the St. Mary’s City Town Center, and a rigid baroque town plan (Miller, 1983, 1988). Based on results from archaeological survey, HSMC focused on the areas surrounding the ca. 1840 manor home. Archaeologists excavated a random sample by dividing the site into 50 ft. by 50 ft. blocks and randomly selecting seven 5 ft. by 5 ft. squares within each block. This provided a 7 percent sample of the site, which was achieved except for areas south of the Manor Home, where insufficient time and funds led to only a 4 percent sample being acquired. Archaeologists excavated a total of 22 5 ft. by 5 ft. units. All soils 87 were screened through 3/8” mesh. While the primary results of excavation were to uncover the 17th-century town center, over 34 percent of the total artifacts related to the 19th and 20th century period. Preliminary results indicate that spatial patterning around the manor house existed relating to work and entertaining areas. Additionally, a large number of artifacts relating to personal use, clothing, and coinage were found at the site (Miller, 1983). During the relocation of the manor home in 1992 a cache of ceramics and other objects was excavated from underneath a porch, including a number of items from the mid-19th century (Miller, 2013). No further analysis of the 19th-century landscape has been conducted at this site, although recent excavations in the past five years have revisited the site for a further understanding of the 17th-century occupation, and was still undergoing cataloguing at the time of this research. 5.1.3 The Single and Duplex Quarter Two former slave and tenant quarters have been part of archaeological excavations over the decades. They were located along the St. Mary’s River across a ravine from the Manor Home. The duplex quarter stood in that location until 1992, when it was relocated along with the manor home. The single quarter has been identified in photographs into the 1910s. The site, including both quarters, has been given the designation of 18ST1-14. 5.1.3.1 Leonard Calvert Survey In 1979, the Leonard Calvert Survey was conducted to locate Calvert’s 17th century “St. Mary’s House” and the center of the 17th-century village. This area was included in that survey. Soil samples and STP units were excavated on 50 ft. grid lines placed 10 ft. apart. In total, 174 soil samples were collected across the site. The results indicate the presence of Middle Archaic to Late Woodland occupation, a 17th-century component, and a clear 19th- and 20th-century occupation, with heavy clustering near the duplex quarter, which was still standing in its original location. Five test pits were also excavated during this survey due to their presence of 17th-century materials, and revealed little information regarding the site. 88 5.1.3.2 Duplex Quarter Relocation Project In 1992, HSMC decided to relocate the 19th-century buildings due to interpretive issues. The 19th-century manor home, outbuildings, and duplex quarter were located directly on top of the 17th-century town center, making further excavation of 17th-century buildings difficult, as well as interpretation of the colonial landscape complicated for visitors. In preparation for the move, archaeologists mitigated the areas around each building in order to ensure that resources were not disturbed, and also recorded architectural information relating to the building. Twelve 5 by 5 ft. units were along the exterior and interior of the duplex quarter walls. Because these units were perpendicular to the structure, they did not fall on the overall site grid used for the analysis of the entire site, and instead cut across 16 grid units. However, each unit was excavated in segments according to the unit it did represent on the site grid. For example, the first unit excavated overlaps with unit 374B, 374C, 404A, and 404D. Each portion of those units were excavated independently, so that the artifacts maintained their provenience in relation to the rest of the grid. This was done in case further excavations were conducted on the site. Because subsequent projects did not complete the excavations of these units, these units have been given their own designations for the purpose of this research, and the artifacts contained within them have been combined. This means that the objects excavated are represented by twelve 5 ft. by 5 ft. units, and makes them comparable to the other projects in the area. They are numbered Units 1 through 12. These twelve units were evenly divided along the inside and outside of the front and rear walls of the duplex. Analysis of the builder’s trenches and the brick foundation indicate that there were a number of repair episodes, leaving only one intact builder’s trench in Unit 8 (Feature 465J) with a terminus post quem (TPQ) during the slave era. These repair trenches are validated by the presence of a number of cement patches and the presence of modern brick being used on the upper courses of the foundation. The cement work and the bricks were likely put in place during the extensive renovations that were started by the previous land owner in the 1970s, and finished by HSMC in 1979. Aside from the compromised builder trenches, the stratigraphy both inside and outside the 89 quarter appear to be intact. Inside the quarter, a living surface is clearly evident. In all cases, this level represented the surface that was underneath the wooden floors that were likely added after slavery, and also was compromised by the renovation work during the 1970s when those floors were removed. The next layer down includes primarily 19th-century artifacts, and likely represents the slave period and some of the post-slavery era. In some cases, this level includes wire nails, suggesting that it may have been a used surface into the 1880s. It is also possible that those nails fell through the floorboards, contaminating the original dirt floors. The stratigraphy, therefore, does not provide adequate data for the comparison of slavery and post-slavery deposits. One important feature in the duplex was a fully excavated brick and tin lined subfloor pit. Located in the southern pen, the root cellar was placed in the nook between the chimney, dividing wall, and front wall of the duplex. The subfloor pit had a depth of 3 ft., and was 2.5 ft. long and 2.25 ft. wide. The west wall was primarily the chimney foundation, with two additional courses added below it. The north, south, and east walls were lined with a single layer of brick, and then with tin. A number of artifacts from multiple centuries were present in the cellar fill. The most recent was a piece of Ball Mason Jar, ca. 1915, indicating that the cellar was filled in the 20th century (Toulouse, 1970). A hard compact surface lined the bottom of the pit, and included a 19thcentury clay pipestem, indicating that it was in use during this century. No additional artifacts provided a more refined use period. The building itself was a frame structure that lay on top of the brick foundation. The building had horizontal siding, and stood one and a half stories tall. Each pen had separate doorways on the front of the building. There was a central chimney stack, with a double hearth for each pen. The chimney was also constructed of reused brick. The end of the chimney facing the front of the house was modified to accommodate a ladder to the upper story. The roof had wooden shingles. Some features were identified in the yard. A post hole near the front of the building was unexcavated, as was a rectangular pit, likely a privy, located in the far back of the building. The only excavated feature, 462Y, was located directly behind the duplex quarter. A circular feature approximately 1 foot in diameter, it included a complete clear bottle and a crown cap. Based on the 90 bottle manufacture, which was clear glass with a tooled finish, air vent marks and cup mold base, the bottle was likely made between 1885 and 1915 (Lindsey, 2010b). The presence of a crown cap in the feature means that the bottle was likely buried between 1892 and 1925, meaning that it was not part of the slave era. This unit also included a brick pier, which supported a shed addition made by the Milburn family during the 1940s. This addition was 10 feet deep and extended just before the center of the rear wall. An interior door was added to provide access to the addition. The addition also had a doorway off the back. The Milburns also added a window to the north gable end of the building (Hall and Hall, 2011). 5.1.3.3 The Slave Quarter/Printshop Excavations In 1998, the HSMC field school began excavations at 18ST1-14. The objectives of the project were two-fold: first, to identify the 17th-century occupation of the site and any possible structures, and second, to identify archaeologically the presence of the second quarter that was identified in photographs. Excavations began with testing to obtain a statistically valid sample of the site in order to locate the presence or absence of features. This project followed the protocol at HSMC to excavate a stratified, random sample fraction of 5 percent, chosen by selecting five 5 ft. by 5 ft. units within a 50 ft. by 50 ft. area of the site. For this project, 60 such units were excavated. This accounted for 80 percent of the defined site. The remaining 20 percent was excluded since it consisted of sloping areas on the edge of the site (Riordan, 1999). This sample included 14 units associated with the location of the duplex quarter. Ten-week summer field schools continued at this site until 2003. When they concluded, evidence for both a single cabin slave quarter and a 17th-century print shop had been revealed, the former resting on top of the latter. This made for a complex site. While stratigraphy exists in varying degrees across the site, most of it includes 19th and 20th century artifacts throughout, making the dating of stratigraphy before and after the period of the Civil War unreliable. During excavations in the previous seasons, a great deal of emphasis was placed on understanding the 91 17th-century site component, meaning that many features, such as a second brick-lined subfloor pit, were left unexcavated. Nonetheless, 171 5 ft. by 5 ft. units were excavated by the conclusion of the 2003 field season. Aside from the units excavated on the southern end of the site as part of the random sample, the majority of these units are located in the middle area of the site, incorporating the foundations of the single quarter and printshop. The quarter’s existence was known due to three photographs from the turn of the 19th century, but the archaeological evidence was critical in identifying and learning about the structure and its inhabitants. The photographs show a single quarter with vertical clapboards, likely constructed as a frame building. The quarter had a central door, no visible windows, and a large brick chimney on the north gabled end. It stood one and a half stories tall and had wooden shingles. Archaeological evidence confirms this, with a large brick chimney base surrounded by destruction rubble. The foundations of the single quarter used different materials in different ways. The northeast corner of the building used a series of large round stones and bricks to support the building. The north and west wall were supported by small bricks, some of them broken. No post holes were discovered relating to this period, indicating that the building was of frame construction, and not an earthfast structure. A final feature included a brick lined subfloor pit placed approximately five feet in front of the chimney hearth. The pit measured four by four feet. Only a portion of the pit was excavated, revealing a significant quantity of window glass dating to the early 20th century. The only other features identified outside the single quarter were located in the rear yard. Twenty-two post holes were identified, extending from the south east corner of the single quarter to the edge of the river. None of these post holes were excavated, making it difficult to determine if they relate to the 19th- or 17th-century occupations. The post holes do not seem to recreate an earthfast structure, however, indicating that they are post holes for fences. At St. Mary’s City, most of the 17th-century fencelines are paling fences, suggesting that these fence posts may be part of the 19th and/or 20th century occupations.Without further testing, it is difficult to determine the use or date of these fence postholes. Stratigraphic layers include three distinct levels throughout the majority of the site. These 92 levels show evidence of artifact mixing. Understanding these levels is critical to determining if stratigraphy can be used to examine the transition from slavery to freedom at the site. Level 1, the topmost level, is the topsoil, and includes artifacts from prehistoric, 17th, 19th, and 20th centuries. Level 2, includes prehistoric, 17th, 19th, and 20th century artifacts, as well as a significant amount of gravel. The foundation of the single quarter also appear in this level. Level 3 includes a mixture of prehistoric, 17th, and 19th century artifacts, including wire nails, which came into popularity at the end of the 19th century. Below that layer was the subsoil. It is likely that Level 3 was created through the plowing of the ground surface after the 17th century occupation and before the building of the single quarter in the 1840s (See Chapter 6 for an analysis of the construction dates of the single quarter). It then served as the living surface during the time the single quarter stood, which stretched into at least 1900 to the 1910s. This accounts for the presence of wire nails and other late 19th-century artifacts. Level 2 represents a mixing of the ground surface that occurred after the demolition of the single quarter. This accounts for the presence of the single quarter foundations, and the large chimney fall, in the Level. This mixing likely incorporated the gravel into the ground surface, perhaps to improve drainage and to create a living and working surface. The process of mixing the gravel and soil to develop this new surface would have disturbed the upper portion of Level 3, thereby mixing the prehistoric, 17th, and 19thcentury artifacts into Level 2, and destroying any potential living surface in Level 3. This level then served as the living surface for the 20th-century occupation, until the building was abandoned in the 1960s. A sod topsoil, Level 1, then grew on top of it, capping the remains of the site. This level would have also been part of the restoration efforts carried out in the 1970s. Examining the transition from slavery to freedom through the stratigraphic evidence, therefore, is difficult because there is no intact ground surface that reflects the period of slavery. Level 3 is the closest to representing that era, yet it is contaminated with earlier occupation materials, as well as its continued use into the post-slavery era. Level 2 is similarly compromised by the mixing of artifacts from Level 3 into a level of occupation that post-dates the lifetime of the single quarter. For analytical purposes, therefore, artifact concentrations from these two levels can be compared 93 to gain relative changes through time, but they do not represent a direct comparison of behavior during and after slavery. Unit 528, located to the far east of the site, has four levels, and does not appear to be contaminated. The artifacts in these levels appear to coincide with more specific time periods. The lowest level includes only prehistoric and colonial artifacts. The next level includes only artifacts from the early and mid 19th century, with a notable absence of wire nails. The layer above that is an oyster shell layer, that includes an 1864 and 1888 penny, and other artifacts representative of the late 19th century. Finally, the topsoil includes largely 20th century artifacts. This unit presents a rare opportunity to examine a less-contaminated sample from the site, although it is also located some distance from the dwellings. 5.2 Architectural and Environmental Features Aside from the duplex quarter, a number of the 19th-century plantation structures stood on their original locations until 1992 and were recorded architecturally. While all but one are no longer located in situ, the Manor Home and its associated outbuildings, including a dairy, smokehouse, woodshed, and carriage house stand elsewhere, along with the duplex. Other features relating to the manor home, such as the tear-drop shaped driveway and gardens, have been mapped and recorded. A complex of agricultural buildings have also been examined architecturally, although only one remains standing today. Among these structures include a granary, tobacco barn, and corn crib. The tobacco barn remains standing, and was converted in 2007 into an exhibit regarding changing agriculture in Southern Maryland. Notes and files from HSMC, in addition to the Historic Architecture Building Survey file on the manor home and its related buildings, will be used to gain information about the architectural significance and function of these buildings (Kurtze, Peter, 1993). In addition to the structures located on the plantation, additional 19th-century structures in St. Mary’s City will be considered. The ruins of the 17th-century statehouse, which were used as the Trinity Church until 1829, remained visible on the landscape during the 19th century (King, 94 2012). The Trinity Church itself, erected in 1829, continues to be a part of the landscape, and was prominent during the period of study. Additionally, the St. Mary’s Female Seminary also became part of the 19th-century landscape in 1845. Brome’s Wharf, built in 1846, destroyed during the Civil War, and rebuilt in 1874 (unknown, 1874), also plays an important function in the landscape, and will be considered in this study. Documents and images from the Trinity Church archives, accounts from visitors and researchers to St. Mary’s City from the 19th and 20th centuries, and studies on the history of St. Mary’s College will be accessed to inform our understanding of these buildings in the 19th century. The late 19th-century inclusion of a railroad cut provide an understanding about the post-slavery era. Lastly, a survey of African American churches, schools, and towns in St. Mary’s County from the post-slavery era will be referenced, as well as documents from the Freedman’s Bureau and research conducted by local African American historical societies in Southern Maryland (for Afro-American Contributions, 2006). Another critical component of the landscape that will be considered are environmental features. The most prominent is the St. Mary’s River. This study will also include other features such as nearby woods, ridges, valleys, and ravines that naturally divide and bisect that landscape. 5.3 Historical Data The historical record relating specifically to the plantation at St. Mary’s City is limited. There are no papers, logbooks, inventories, or maps relating to the regular operation of the plantation. Nonetheless, through the use of local, state, and federal documents, as well as photographs, maps, and oral histories relating to the area, the documentary record does play a role in understanding the 19th-century landscape. The United States Census records from 1840-1900 play a pivotal role in examining the household of Brome, his enslaved and tenant laborers, and his agricultural output (Appendix ?? and ??). They also inform the surrounding community and changing settlement patterns after the War. Other federal documents that were consulted include military enlistment and pension records and the Freedmen’s Bureau Records. State documents include a list compiled and submitted to the 95 State of Maryland by Brome in 1867 listing the slaves he lost during the Civil War (referenced in this study as the 1867 List and transcribed in Appendix ??). Local documents include various land deeds and transactions that Brome made throughout his ownership of the property, as well as orphans court documents that describe the plantation during his childhood. Newspapers also provide some direct evidence of runaway slaves and Dr. Brome’s participation in local activities before and after the War. Other documents relating to the Philodemic Society also play an important role in understanding the importance of St. Mary’s City during the 19th century to a larger public, and the series of public celebrations that were held at the site of St. Mary’s City between 1840 and 1860 (King, 2012). Finally, a dissertation written by Jessica Neuwirth will be a critical resource for understanding Brome’s social and political networks, among other elements of his life (Neuwirth, 1997). A variety of photographs depict the manor home, duplex, and single quarter during the 1890s and early 20th century. Aerial photographs also exist from the 1930s through the contemporary period. Additionally, two oral histories have been conducted with Emma Hall, who grew up in the duplex quarter during the 1940s and 50s, and Spence Howard, one of Brome’s direct descendants, who was the last person to own the property before it was sold to the State of Maryland (Hall, 1998; Hall and Hall, 2011; Hall, 2013). 5.4 Research Questions This research project’s primary objective is to examine how the Brome family and the African Americans who lived at St. Mary’s Manor used and negotiated space during and after slavery. Life changed at St. Mary’s Manor for the Brome family and the African Americans who worked and lived on their plantation before and after Emancipation and during a period of economic growth during the 19th century. Specifically, these changes will be examined through the cultural landscape, and how these groups used, changed, negotiated, and modified space to survive. Four questions will be examined that will interrogate this transition. 96 1. What did the landscape of St. Mary’s Manor look like in 1840 and how did it change over time? This question does not seek to examine why these changes took place, only to use available data to discern what the plantation landscape included at the beginning of John Brome’s ownership in 1840, and what modifications were made to it over the ensuing century. The expectation is that the plantation landscape will include a series of buildings relating to the function of a plantation. These will include a manor home and outbuildings, dwellings to house slaves and laborers, and agricultural buildings. There will be opportunities for accessing transportation such as roads and access to waterways. Nearby towns will include religious and educational institutions. Considering the historical significance of the site of St. Mary’s City, it is also expected that remains or memorials to the colonial past may exist on the landscape. This question will be addressed in Chapter 6. To determine the presence of these sites, a variety of methods will be employed. Different areas of the plantation will be addressed separately, each employing a different methodology based on the available data. First, historical photographs, maps, and architectural evidence will be used to identify the location of the manor home. This data will be used to establish a construction date, the building’s location, and the architectural style and function of the building. Second, the agricultural structures located on the site will be considered, using the location of still standing buildings and architectural evidence collected by HSMC researchers to establish construction dates, building functions, and changes in the architecture. Third, the location of additional dwellings for laborers will be addressed. Historical photos of the duplex and single quarter, discussed above, will be used to identify and locate those structures. Archaeological evidence, relying on samples of diagnostic artifacts like ceramics, bottle glass color, nails, and window glass will be examined to determine the occupation periods of these two structures (further discussion of the use of these artifacts is in Chapter 6). This same archaeological analysis will then be applied to archaeological components discovered in the Mattapany Path Survey to determine the occupation periods of those possible dwellings. Finally, historical data from the U.S. Census Slave Schedules from 1850 and 1860, the 1867 List, and the 1870 and 97 1880 U.S. Census will be consulted to further refine the dates of occupation. Fourth, the external landscape of St. Mary’s City will be considered. Secondary sources and archival data from Trinity Church will be examined to determine the original architecture of the Church. Similarly, secondary sources will examine the construction of the St. Mary’s Female Seminary. Lastly, historical accounts from visitors to St. Mary’s City during the 19th century, and early 20th century archaeological studies, will be examined to better understand the location and visibility of 17th century ruins during that period. 2. How did Brome use this plantation landscape as a tool to increase his agricultural production, control his labor, and bolster his presence as a social elite? How did these elements of his landscape accommodate the changes in the social structure and agricultural economy brought about by Emancipation in Maryland? The expectation is that Brome will develop a plantation that will rely on enslaved labor to produce wheat and, depending on the markets, tobacco. Brome will adopt standard plantation management strategies by adopting a plantation landscape that establishes a landscape of control, restricting the control his enslaved labor has to space and time. His enslaved population to decrease through time, coinciding with the general decline in reliance on slave labor in Maryland, although the rate of decline will be minimal considering his active agricultural pursuits and his location in Southern Maryland, which had a larger reliance on slavery then elsewhere in the state. I expect this landscape of control to permeate into his manor home, where space will be heavily controlled by his wife in order to ensure the performance of a mid-19th century domestic home. To determine if Brome’s plantation landscape adheres to these expectations, bridging arguments will be established between the landscape described in Chapter 6 and the interpretations. Brome’s agricultural pursuits will be identified through the identified barns in Chapter 6, and verified through the U.S. Agricultural Census from 1850 and 1860. The number of slave dwellings present on the landscape, and the adding or subtracting of dwellings over time, will indicate if Brome had an increasing or decreasing slave population. This will be verified by the U.S. Census 98 and Slave Schedules, which should correspond to the pattern identified on the landscape. These data will also be examined to determine Brome’s participation in the slave trade: connecting ages and genders of slaves in 1850 and 1860 should determine how active and who he was buying or selling during the period. A controlled landscape will be examined by looking at the plantation scale, and determining the position of the slave dwellings in relationship to the agricultural buildings and manor home. Evidence for the presence of an overseer will be examined in the census records. Comparative archaeological analysis of controlled landscapes serve as the bridging arguments for these interpretations. This controlled landscape will also be examined on the household level of the manor home, examining how space was divided and controlled by Brome and his wife within their home. It is also expected that Brome will use his plantation landscape as a reflection of his social status towards his peers. Examining his plantation landscape from the perspective of the visitor, and in the context of its orientation and relationship to the external landscape will reveal if Brome considered his relationship to his peers. The historical record will link Brome’s connection to this external space by determining if he was involved in any of the local institutions. Jessica Neuwirth’s research will be particularly useful in this regard (Neuwirth, 1997). It is also expected that Brome’s landscape of control will undergo significant change during the Civil War, due to the presence of Union forces in the County and Brome’s sympathetic and possible participation with the Confederacy. These efforts would erode his control over his slaves both on and off the plantation, despite his residence in a Union state. To determine Brome’s role, the broader landscape will be examined, and secondary sources will be consulted to determine the areas where smuggling predominated. It is expected that Brome’s position on a steamship route and with access to the Potomac would make his property ideal for smuggling operations. To establish the effect of the Union military on Brome’s control off the plantation, secondary sources will be used to establish the presence of Union forces in the County. The 1867 List will also be consulted to determine how many of Brome’s slaves escaped or enlisted during the War. The dates of these escapes will be compared to the presence of Union soldiers in the vicinity, to determine 99 a possible relationship between the two events. Finally, archaeological evidence of a Civil War Union presence will be examined on the site of St. Mary’s Manor to determine if Union forces may have visited the plantation to recruit soldiers or interrogate Brome. Examining the pension records of enslaved laborers will be used to determine if recruitment parties visited the plantation, serving as the bridging argument between the presence of Union Army related artifacts and the presence of Union forces on the plantation. After the Civil War, the expectation is that Brome renegotiated his economic arrangement with former slaves to restrict their mobility and ensure a stable labor force. I expect Brome’s reliance on cash crop agriculture to diminish over time as Maryland moves towards perishable goods and truck farming, and for this to be reflected in the plantation landscape through a reduction in the amount of dwellings for sharecropping laborers over time. To determine if these relationships are renegotiated, the landscape should show a number of quarters remaining on the landscape and being reused by African American families. The U.S. Agricultural Census should show Brome’s continued efforts at cash crop agriculture in 1870 and expenses related to paid labor and board. By the 1880 U.S. Agricultural Census, however, the reliance on cash crop should decrease, and a larger emphasis on other forms of agriculture should emerge. These changes should explain the diminishing presence of African American dwellings on the plantation. It is also expected that Brome’s relationship with the external landscape continues after the War. Having established himself as a member of the social elite during slavery, it is expected that Brome continues to use his position of leadership and regional power to attempt to influence the local economy. Examining his business investments in unique business opportunities such as land purchases and investments in new industries should support his efforts at recreating or changing the broader cultural landscape. 3. How did African Americans reuse spaces on and off the plantation to mitigate the effects of slavery, and how did their use of the plantation landscape change after they gained their freedom? 100 It is expected that enslaved African Americans sought opportunities to reuse different spheres on and off the plantation to improve their quality of life and mitigate the conditions of slavery. It is also expected that after Emancipation African Americans will use their newfound freedoms to create independent spaces on and off the plantation by creating greater separation between themselves and white American spaces. To examine this hypothesis, different spaces on and off the plantation will be examined from the perspective of the African American laborer. The concept of "reusing" spaces will be determined through the process of changing a plantation "space" into a culturally significant "place" by identifying material correlates that indicate ownership or reuse. Creating separation after slavery will be determined by the creation of new institutions or the use of material objects to claim ownership and separate spaces. The African American household, the manor home, and areas of wilderness will be examined. In the domestic sphere, the slave dwelling will be examined to see if slaves were modifying the space of the dwelling to create more efficient living spaces. The use and placement of subfloor pits will be interrogated to see how they match preconceived patterns of use at other plantations. After Emancipation, the interior space will be examined to see if the area of the duplex and single quarter were modified to increase the size of the dwelling, which would suggest that the group living within the structure was claiming ownership over the space by increasing its size. The use of space will also take into account the use of the yard. It is expected that the yardspace will show instances of activity through yardsweeping during and after slavery, indicating that the yards served as an extension of the dwelling. Yardsweeping will be determined by the distribution of diagnostic ceramic types. The use of culturally significant actions like yardsweeping also denote ownership over the space. After slavery, this expansion of the yardspace will become more visible, using fences to create a clear delineation of the African American domestic space compared to the rest of the plantation. Displaying ownership of the dwelling can also be observed through architectural modifications. The presence or absence of glass windows and wooden floors after Emancipation will be examined 101 through archaeological analysis. Window glass thickness will be measured, a process that correlates to time (Weiland, 2009), to determine when windows were added to the dwellings. Similarly, the quantity of cut and wire nails on the interior and exterior of the single quarter will be examined to determine if wooden floors were added to the quarter, with the assumption that wooden floors would result in more nails on the interior of the quarter then swept floors. Investing labor and resources into these improvements will indicate the ownership over the property, and suggest a greater separation between Brome and his former enslaved laborers. The space within the manor home will also be investigated as an area that was reused by enslaved laborers to create benefits for the enslaved community. Archaeological and architectural evidence will be used to determine if there were distinct areas of work within the manor home and its yard, with the assumption that these spaces would be used by enslaved laborers. Oral history will be addressed to determine if enslaved laborers, such as the cook, had control over these areas of the manor home. If true, then these areas could be seen as part of the enslaved African American landscape, and could be reused as social spaces within the manor home. Similarly, historical evidence of Brome’s position as a leader within the community, host of frequent guests, and his travel to other areas of the county would also serve as opportunities for enslaved laborers to meet with other slaves on other plantations, allowing for communication among the enslaved communities. After emancipation, the expectation is that the necessity for the manor house to serve these dual purposes will decrease. It is expected that domestic servants will use their mobility to move out of the manor home, therefore creating separation between the place of their work from their homes. The emergence of distinct community institutions on other scales will negate benefits of travel that working in the manor home afforded. The wilderness will be examined based on its ability to provide spaces of respite and as a means of modifying the diet and income of enslaved and free African Americans. It is expected that evidence of fishing, oystering, and crabbing will be evident at the site of the single and duplex quarter, suggesting the participation of the households in using these resources. Faunal remains 102 from unit 528 will be examined to determine if fish and oyster remains exist. Evidence of fishing and oystering tools, particularly fishhooks and oyster tongs, will be identified and discussed. Lastly, any evidence of boating materials on the coast of the St. Mary’s River will be considered. Secondary sources will be used to bridge these artifacts to evidence of Maryland slaves and free blacks relying extensively on the waterways as a means of modifying their diets and participating in the local economy. The Key Swamp will also be examined to determine if there is archaeological evidence of activity areas in the large ravine. This area could serve as a possible clandestine location for subversive activities. Using the shovel test survey data from the Mattapany Path, the distributions of 19th century artifacts will be examined for evidence of possible activity areas. Bottles, pipes, or other objects may indicate the use of these areas as social areas. Lastly, the Mattapany Path, a colonial road, that was abandoned by the 19th century, will be examined as a possible wilderness route for connecting the enslaved community at St. Mary’s to other plantations. Examining LiDar imagery and historical evidence will determine if this route was still visible during the period. Oral history with 20th century residents of the duplex will address whether or not the route was still in use today, and the current landscape will be examined to determine if communal structures like churches or schools existed on this path, suggesting that the route may have served as a thoroughfare for enslaved communities during and after slavery. 4. How were households constituted during slavery, and how did their makeup change after Emancipation? The expectation is that the enslaved household was comprised of multiple family dwellings that shared yardspace and conducted household activities together, and that this formation changed to single dwelling, single family households after Emancipation. Determining the makeup of households during slavery is divided into two parts: first, the makeup of each dwelling must be determined. Second, the relationship among dwellings must be determined to establish their cooperation. The makeup of each dwelling will be tested using 103 archaeological and historical data. First, theories regarding the makeup of dwellings relating to the number of subfloor pits per dwelling will be examined, with the interpretation that the presence of only one subfloor pit means only one family resided in the dwelling (Fesler, 2004; Neiman, 2008). The 1867 List will then be consulted to establish the presence of families on the plantation, and compare these results to the total number of dwellings on the 1860 landscape. This will determine the relationship between the types of coresidential groups and dwellings on the plantation. The relationship among dwellings will be examined through an analysis of the yardspace surrounding the single and duplex quarters. Evidence for shared yards will be examined using the same analysis examined for Question 3, with shared yards between the quarters presenting evidence for household activity. Postholes will also be examined to determine if fenced areas in the rear or front yards may indicate shared yardspaces. The post Emancipation household will be examined to determine if the makeup of the dwellings changed after Emancipation, and whether or not these dwellings operated as independent households. Historical evidence from the 1870 and 1880 U.S. Census will be used to determine what types of coresidential groups made up each household, and archaeologically based on the presence or absence of dwellings on the landscape. Household activities will be examined archaeologically. Modifications made to the single and duplex quarters and their yardspaces, discussed in Question 2, will be examined to determine if these effected the makeup of the household. Modes of production will also be addressed, by determining if households were engaged in economic production outside agriculture. Specifically, the participation in fishing and oystering and activities relating to laundry will be addressed by examining the presence of high quantities of buttons. 5. How did enslaved African Americans develop and maintain communities through the use and reuse of space, and how did this change after Emancipation? The expectation is that the multiple households on the plantation created a plantation community through their shared experience and proximity to each other, while access to off the plantation spaces, discussed in Question 3, provided opportunities to engage in a broader enslaved commu- 104 nity. After Emancipation, the community transitioned off the plantation, as families and households moved away from the plantation, and community spaces became centralized in independent black towns, neighborhoods, schools, and churches. To examine the presence of a community on the plantation during slavery, the proximity of enslaved dwellings and households on the landscape will be examined. The spatial closeness of these buildings will indicate the likelihood of a plantation community. The access to outside spaces tested in Question 3, such as access to other slaves through the manor home, Trinity Church, and Mattapany Path, will be reconsidered in the context of community and as possible connections to other enslaved African Americans. The post-Emancipation African American community will be considered by examining the changing plantation landscape. A dispersal of dwellings and households on the plantation would indicate that the African American plantation community that existed during slavery would have dissipated. It is expected that this community moved to a regional landscape due to the new access that African Americans had to this scale. Evidence of churches, schools, and new towns and neighborhoods will be examined to determine if this was taking place. Schools will be examined through primary documents from the Freedman’s Bureau, land records, and secondary resources catalogued by local historical societies. Evidence of churches will be examined by dating the emergence of different African American churches on the landscape throughout the county and discussions about church attendance by former residents of the Brome plantation. Migration to urban areas and neighborhoods will be examined by looking at the U.S. Pension Records of former slaves at Brome’s plantation and tracking their movements through U.S. Census Records to determine if they relocated to new black communities. Lastly, U.S. Census records from 1870 and 1880 in the 1st Election District of Maryland will be investigated to determine if the settlement pattern for blacks and whites has changed through time, and if independent black communities can be identified on the landscape. 105 CHAPTER 6 THE CHANGING PLANTATION LANDSCAPE AT ST. MARY’S MANOR To understand how space was used and negotiated by the Brome family and the African Americans who lived and worked on their plantation, an analysis of the way that the plantation and its surrounding landscape changed throughout the 19th century must be conducted. This analysis will take into consideration the built environment, including the local environment, manor home, agricultural buildings, slave and tenant quarters, and the neighboring built environment of St. Mary’s City. Depending on the evidence available, historical documents, photographs, archaeological analysis of existing structures, architectural analysis, and secondary sources will be used to identify the location, period of occupation, and structural changes of the various types of structures located on the landscape from approximately 1840 to the 1930s. The area under investigation is located in St. Mary’s County, the southernmost county on Maryland’s western shore. St. Mary’s County is a peninsula, bounded on the North by the Patuxent River and the South by the Potomac River. The site of Brome’s plantation is on the Southern bank of the St. Mary’s River, a tributary of the Potomac. While Brome’s plantation spanned approximately 1,800 acres, surveying was restricted to a 100-acre piece of property along the St. Mary’s River where the vast majority of the 19th-century occupation occurred. A small freshwater stream, Key Branch (also called Key Swamp), cuts along the Southern portion of this area, and occupies a deep ravine. A second ravine, called “The Vale” by earlier researchers (Forman, 1938, p. 212), also exists along the coast. A third ravine cuts along the north end of the property, con106 necting to Mill Creek, which emptied into the St. Mary’s River. Much of the land along the River exists on a high plateau, overlooking the River, while the river itself is deep enough for the passage of steamships and other boats. Figure 6.1 St. Mary’s City with environmental features identified. John Brome grew up on this property, living almost his entire life in a building located inland just north of the Mill Creek, called St. Barbara’s. His father, James Brome, died while John was a boy, and he was raised by his mother, Anne, and step-father, George Ashcomb. His step-father managed the plantation while John attended school and went to college. Ashcomb died in 1839, the same year John reached his majority. It does not appear that Ashcomb made any significant changes to the plantation landscape during his tenure, although the plantation was relatively successful. The historical, archaeological, and architectural data does indicate that Brome began an 107 ambitious building campaign upon acquiring the plantation and consolidating the property inherited by his two younger sisters. John Brome took over the operation of his father’s plantation in 1839, a time when many of his fellow County residents had begun modernizing and upgrading their homes. Census takers in 1840 indicated that 75 wooden houses were built in 1839 in St. Mary’s County, and that a third of them were built in the First District (Marks, 1979, p.65). Marks argues that these improvements were made as a response to the relative stability gained through the agricultural system in the 1820s and 1830s, coupled with, as Ranzetta suggests, a Southern Maryland cultural value of frugality (Marks, 1979; Ranzetta, 2010). By examining the built environment through historical, architectural, and archaeological evidence, Brome’s modifications and changes to the landscape during the 1840s indicate that he also took part in this transformative period in St. Mary’s County plantation development. A number of areas on the plantation were modified during the period, dramatically reorienting the plantation’s landscape. 6.1 Identifying 19th-century sites at St. Mary’s Manor Multiple lines of evidence will be used to investigate the changing landscape. Historical documents include census records, maps, orphans’ court documents, and photographs. Architectural analysis of a number of standing structures on Brome’s property and comparative structures on neighboring plantations, conducted by architectural historians for the Maryland Historical Trust and researchers at HSMC, and compiled in the HABS database, will be consulted. Archaeological analysis will examine assemblages collected from the ISTEA Survey, single quarter excavations, and the duplex removal project. Secondary sources will also be used, particularly when examining the area of St. Mary’s City. Identifying occupation periods through diagnostic artifacts can be complicated when examining sites from the 19th century, and are particularly challenging at Brome’s plantation due to the available artifacts, the methods of collection, and the nature of the stratigraphy. This is particularly true for this project, where the primary question is how the landscape changed after Emancipation: 108 there are few commonly available artifacts found in large enough quantities that correspond to slavery and post-slavery. The primary artifacts used for this analysis are ceramics, nails, window glass, and bottle glass. The first issue on the site is the lack of stratigraphic evidence that corresponds to the questions under examination. There are no sealed surfaces dating to pre-Emancipation, complicating efforts at telling time on the site. Late 19th-century artifacts are discovered in almost all the strata, in particular wire nails. Similarly, there are no excavated features that include closed data from the enslaved period. A similar problem exists for the archaeological survey data, which was collected through controlled surface collection. No stratigraphy, therefore, was identified, meaning that the archaeological data exist within the same horizontal provenience (Miller et al., 2006). 6.1.1 Ceramics Ceramics are the most common type of artifact used diagnostically on historical archaeology sites, and serve as the best artifact for distinguishing sites relating to before and after the Civil War. During the 19th century, changes in decorative typology are particularly useful for telling time, as a variety of different decorative styles were used and changed in popularity during the century (Miller, 1974, 1991a). Transfer printing, edge decorations, hand painting, and sponge painting are a number of different styles that marked much of the first half and middle of the century, while more basic styles such as ironstone, yellow ware, and rockingham ware all came into popularity during the latter half of the century. Other types, such as undecorated or plain pearlware were popular during the end of the 18th century and early 19th century, while plain white ware came into popularity during the second quarter of the 19th century and is still produced today. One of the most popular techniques for dating archaeological sites, features, and strata with ceramics has been the Mean Ceramic Date, established by Stanley South (South, 1977). South argued that by taking the median date of the production of a ceramic typology, multiplying it by the total count of that ceramic, adding it to that number calculated for the entire site, and then dividing that total by the total ceramic count would produce a number corresponding to the period 109 Ceramic Decoration Creamware Pearlware - Plain - Painted - Edge Decorated - Transfer Print White ware - Plain - Painted - - Polychrome - - Chrome Colors - - Sprig - - Sponge - - Cut Sponge - - Open Sponge - Annular - Mocha - Transfer Print - Edge Decorated - - Neo Classical - - Unscalloped - - Non-impressed Ironstone Yellow Ware Rockingham Ware British Majolica Porcelain - Soft Paste - Hard Paste Stoneware - Brown Domestic - Gray Domestic Period of Production 1762 - 1820 Median Source Date 1791 (Noël Hume, 1970; Miller, 1991a) 1780 - 1840 1770 - 1840 1785 - 1840 1784 - 1840 1805 1805 1812.5 1812 1830 - 1900+ 1865 1795 - 1830 1830 - 1860 1835 - 1870s 1820s - 1860s 1840s - 1870s 1860 - 1935 1785 - 1900 1795 - 1895 1830 - 1850s 1812.5 1845 1855 1845 1860 1897.5 1842.5 1845 1842.5 (Samford, 2002e) (Samford, 2002e) (Samford, 2002e) (Samford, 2002d) (Samford, 2002d) (Samford, 2002d) (Samford, 2002a) (South, 1977; Sussman, 1997) (Samford, 1997, 2002c) 1800 - 1830s 1840s - 1860s 1860s - 1890s 1840 - 1930 1840 - 1900 1850 - 1950 1860s - 1900 1817.5 1855 1880 1885 1870 1900 1882.5 (Samford, 2002b) (Samford, 2002b) (Samford, 2002b) (Godden, 1999) (Gallo, 1985; Leibowitz, 1985; Samford, 2002f) (Gallo, 1985; Claney, 2004) (Samford, 2003) 1745 - 1800 1800 - 1900 1772 1850 1805 - 1920 1780 - 1920 1862.5 1850 (South, 1977) (Noël Hume, 1970; South, 1977; Miller, 1991a) (Noël Hume, 1970; South, 1977) (Noël Hume, 1970; Miller, 1991a; Samford, 1997) (South, 1977; Miller, 1991a) (Noël Hume, 1970) (South, 1977) Masters Thesis Masters Thesis Table 6.1 Ceramic Decoration Types and Dates 110 of occupation at the site. This process has been particularly popular among Cultural Resource Management (CRM) professionals as an efficient way to date sites. However, the methodology comes with constraints (Miller, 1991b). Most importantly for this study, it does not account for multiple occupations in one location. At the location of the single quarter, for example, the artifacts clearly indicate high quantities of 17th and 19th century ceramics, but almost no 18th century materials, indicating two different occupations centuries apart. A ceramic mean from this site would theoretically calculate an occupation in the 18th century. Fortunately, this can be remedied for our purposes by excluding 17th-century artifacts from the assemblage, but it highlights a troubling feature of the ceramic mean technique. But, doing so would not determine multiple occupations among the 19th-century ceramics, particularly when examining the transition from slavery to freedom. The ceramic mean is also problematic for sites that were occupied for long periods of time, since the mean does not provide a range. This leads to another problem about the nature of the archaeological record during the 19th century: while decoration styles changed significantly during the first half of the century, they are replaced by more plain, undecorated styles in the second half. Many of these styles, however, had also been in use during the first half of the century, leaving artifacts like Chinese porcelain, and English Brown and Gray Stoneware that were in use throughout the entire 19th century. Such artifacts are unhelpful when attempting to determine occupation dates for a site that may have also spanned that same time period, particularly when trying to determine if site occupation changed before and after Emancipation. The Ceramic Mean, therefore, can help to identify a site’s general period occupation, but should not be relied on as one mode for site dating. Another problem with ceramics as a dating technique is use-lag (Adams, 2003). Ceramics, as a whole, were often purchased and used over a period of multiple decades. At upper class sites, archaeologists can assume with relative certainty that the ceramics were purchased new, and that their deposition is representative of the occupation of those who were living at the site. While not precisely accurate, the TPQ of the ceramic is likely representative of a period at which the site was occupied. However, at lower class sites, the assumption that ceramics were purchased 111 new is problematic, since it is quite likely that these ceramics were purchased used, or, in the case of enslaved sites, were handed down from the plantation owners. This could double the use-lag from upper class sites, meaning that a TPQ may not represent an occupational date (Adams, 2003). While there has been no calculation for use-lag conducted, it is an important element of ceramic diagnostic analysis that must be considered. Ceramics, therefore, must be analyzed within the understanding of these parameters. In this analysis, ceramic mean dates will be calculated for each site and archaeological component to demonstrate whether the site was part of the 19th century and to gain a general idea as to what part of the century they were occupied. For the small archaeological components, the ceramic mean will carry more weight in the analysis of the site’s occupation date since there is a significantly smaller assemblage to calculate. For the single quarter and duplex quarter, however, historical data will become more important in determining the occupation date. To mitigate the complexity of 19th-century ceramics as a diagnostic tool and to gain an understanding of the occupation of different sites through time, the following approach will be used. Ceramics will be divided into three categories based on median date of their use: types dating to pre-1840, between 1840 and 1865, and post-1865. These divisions correspond to important periods of change being examined on the site: 1840 serves as the beginning point of Brome’s new plantation landscape and 1865 serves as the close of the Civil War. Some ceramic types are excluded from the analysis since their period of use extends across all three categories. These include 19thcentury porcelain, Annular ware, Mocha ware, and Brown and Gray Domestic Stoneware. These types are also removed from all ceramic mean date calculations. Plain white ware, which extends across two categories, and which appears in large quantities, will be examined as a separate category, but will be included in mean calculations. To determine periods of occupation, these four categories will be compared. In doing so, the ability to identify multiple occupations of a site, or to calculate long-term occupations is possible because the proportion of different ceramics can be identified through time. This will also mitigate somewhat for use-lag, since a larger assemblage of ceramics, and the consideration of percentages as opposed to presence and absence, will allow for 112 the presence of outliers without shifting the site’s occupational date. 6.1.2 Cut and Wire Nails Nail types are another important diagnostic tool for archaeologists examining the 19th century. Nail technology changed during the 1880s, when machine cut nails began to give way to wire nails. This transition passed the 50 percent mark in 1892, and by 1906 more than 90 percent of all nails produced in North America were wire. Therefore, the presence and ratio of cut and wire nails can inform the occupation date of a 19th century site. Sites with only cut nails were likely built and occupied prior to the 1880s, sites with only wire nails were likely built and occupied after the 1890s, while sites that have both cut and wire nails were likely built prior to the 1880s and then lived in and repaired afterwards (Adams, 2002). The only complication for this project is that the transition under investigation is a transition that occurred much earlier then the 1880s: therefore the absence of wire nails does not necessarily mean a pre-Civil War site. Similarly, the presence of wire nails in the survey data, although limited, may not necessarily mean that the structure was built or lived in after the 1880s: the entire site itself has been occupied throughout the 20th century, and a scatter of wire nails should be expected. Therefore, the percentages of nail types, in a similar approach as the ceramic analysis, will be taken. 6.1.3 Window Glass Window glass is another artifact type that can be used to date archaeological sites. During the 19th century, as larger window panes became increasingly popular, window manufacturers increased the thickness of window glass. Over the past few decades, archaeologists have used this knowledge to develop sample techniques to use window glass fragments to determine construction dates for architectural structures (Weiland, 2009). While this is useful for determining the period that structures originally built with new window glass were inhabited, it can be problematic for slave quarters, which typically did not have glass windows. While window glass was often added to former slave quarters following emancipation (McDaniel, 1982), the period of enslavement may 113 not be represented. Therefore, the use of window glass for dating slave and tenant quarter sites must be used with appropriate caution. 6.1.4 Bottle Glass Lastly, bottle glass has been used as a diagnostic tool for dating archaeological sites, particularly sites from the 19th and 20th centuries. Manufacture type is the best tool for establishing dates with bottle glass, as the way that glass bottles were created during the 19th century changed dramatically, particularly during the latter half of the century when bottles transitioned from being mouth-blown to molded, and the early 20th century, when the Owens Bottle Making Machine was introduced. The combination of bottle lips, bases, mold lines, and bottle making scars, can provide a relatively accurate range of bottle manufacture. Additionally, bottles have a short use-lag of 7 to 8 years, due to their fragility (Adams, 2003). Unfortunately for archaeologists, and particularly unfortunate on this site, this type of dating requires complete or partially complete bottles; most of the bottles at St. Mary’s have spent centuries being churned through the plow. This project deals almost entirely with small bottle glass fragments, making identifying temporal characteristics almost impossible. The most easily identifiable bottle glass characteristic, therefore, is glass color, which does carry some diagnostic utility. The most useful is manganese-tinted bottle glass. This glass appears clear initially, but through prolonged exposure to UV light acquires a purplish hue. Manganese was added to bottle glass during the 1880s, and began falling out of use around World War I, serving as an important marker in dating archaeological sites. In some cases, aqua tinted bottle glass also serves a diagnostic purpose, as it is rarely present in sites dating past the 1870s. However, an important exception is the predominance of aqua-colored Mason Jar bottle glass during the middle 20th century (Toulouse, 1970). Green colored glass also serves as a marker for 19th century glass, but collections can be compromised depending on how 20th century beer bottles and soft drink bottles are catalogued. Depending on the precision of cataloguing, therefore, discerning between these types of aqua-tinted glass and green colored glass is important for diagnostic utility. Clear 114 bottle glass also aids in telling time as machine made bottles came into popular use, becoming most prevalent during the late 19th century and throughout the 20th century (Lindsey, 2010b; Fike, 2006; White, 1978). It is worth noting that with the use of machine made bottles, the manufacture of glass bottles increased, which may cause a larger quantity of clear glass bottles to emerge on later sites. The use of glass color, therefore, can aid in dating archaeological sites, although certain precautions must be taken when cataloging and interpreting the data. All of the aforementioned data will be considered when examining the sites on the landscape that require an archaeological interpretation. These artifact classes must be considered in relation to each other to compensate for their insufficiencies. Percentages of artifacts will be particularly important, since the artifacts do not exist in closed contexts. Therefore, the presence of a shard of manganese glass does not necessarily serve as a Terminus Post Quem, since it was collected out of a disturbed context. If manganese tinted glass accounts for 25 percent of the bottle glass assemblage, and is associated with a large quantity of ironstone and wire nails, then a late-19th century occupation is more likely. In many ways, these interpretations are subjective. Unfortunately, the nature of archaeological record at this site does not allow for a more accurate approach. Fortunately, historical and architectural data can tighten some of the occupation dates, or provide additional information to broaden our understanding of the dates that buildings were or were not occupied. When the diagnostic material falls short or is vague, photographs, architectural analysis, and documents such as census records can assist with occupation dating. By using multiple lines of evidence, the changes that occur on the plantation during the 19th century become more visible. 6.2 St. Mary’s Manor The manor home, known currently as the Brome-Howard, but historically (and in this research) called St. Mary’s Manor (Figure 6.2), stood in its original location along the St. Mary’s River, just north of “The Vale” ravine, until it was relocated in 1992. Architectural analysis of the property indicates a construction date to the second quarter of the 19th century, while historical data sug115 Figure 6.2 Left: The north side of St. Mary’s Manor, showing the telescoping pattern towards the east. Right: the teardrop shaped driveway from the front porch of St. Mary’s Manor. gests this occurred during the 1840s, corresponding to Brome’s inheritance of the property and his marriage to Susannah Bennett (Ranzetta, 2010). The structure was a two and a half story, three bay, side-passage, double pile dwelling with a single pile service wing built in the “pervasive, complete, and significant” Greek Revival style, which came to prominence during the mid-19th century in St. Mary’s County (Ranzetta, 2010, p. 73). Figure 6.3 A map from 1981 showing the manor home, outbuildings, and surrounding yardspace. 116 The building’s architect, Vincent Camalier, designed a number of other structures in St. Mary’s County during the same time period, including Buena Vista, Whitehall, and Union Hall, while certain stylistic elements, such as the attached kitchen, were becoming popular during the 1840s, as indicated by other St. Mary’s County homes such as Garvelly Hills and Nuthall’s Folly (Ranzetta, 2010, p. 73). Extending off the eastern side of the house was a dairy, woodshed, smokehouse, and a carriage house. Architects also note a number of pre-Civil War era landscape features, such as its position at the end of a long, formal, teardrop shaped driveway lined by trees (Figure 6.2) and a domesticated lawn and formal garden to the west of the house (Kurtze, Peter, 1993). This evidence indicates that the manor home was built during the 1840s, likely near the time of Brome’s marriage to Susannah Bennett in 1841. The location of the structure and outbuildings is identifiable through historical and archaeological analysis. HSMC created extensive maps identifying the building’s and outbuildings’ precise locations. Photographs dating as far back as the late 19th-century also indicate the building’s presence in this location. The presence of significant quantities of 19th-century ceramics and bottle glass, too extensive to re-analyze for this project but discussed by Miller (1983), also corroborate that the structure remained in its original location along the St. Mary’s River until 1992. The building, therefore, stood in the same location from 1841 to 1992. 6.3 The Agricultural Complex A plantation service road extending eastward connected the Manor House to the agricultural complex. This complex was identified through analysis of two structures conducted by Historic St. Mary’s City, using architectural analysis and dendrochronology to determine the construction dates of the buildings. The analysis indicates that these buildings were in continuous use and modification beginning in the late 18th and continuing throughout the 19th and 20th centuries. Two barns have undergone extensive documentation by researchers (Figure 6.4). The first, a granary, was identified by HSMC researchers as constructed in 1758, and stood until the 1970s. A four bay, “Virginia” framed structure, the granary measured 32 by 20 feet. The building appears to have 117 served as a granary throughout Brome’s tenure (Kurtze, Peter, 1993). The second barn was originally built as a granary in 1785, and continues to stand on the grounds of Historic St. Mary’s City in its original location. Architectural analysis indicates that the building went through various stages of use and modification, correlating to the diverse needs of Maryland planters. It began as a granary, was converted to a tobacco house ca. 1803 when every other joist was removed, and wrought nails were used to hold tier posts along the inside for hang drying tobacco. In 1849, it was refloored and sawn siding were installed using cut nails, converting back into a granary, and then again converted into a tobacco house ca. 1900. The building has a 40 by 22 foot core, with two 8foot sheds. The reflooring occurred in 1848, identified through dendrochronological analysis, and corresponding to the early period of Brome’s new plantation (Kurtze, Peter, 1993). This indicates that these barns comprised the major component of Brome’s agricultural complex. Figure 6.4 The St. Mary’s Plantation landscape in 1934, showing the remaining buildings. 118 6.4 The African American Domestic Complex A variety of evidence supports the presence of a row of slave quarters on the landscape. One quarter, a duplex, stood in its original location until 1992 when it was relocated with the manor home. A single quarter, located next to the duplex, was fully excavated from 1998 to 2003. Both structures appear in photographs dating back to the 1890s. A row of additional archaeological components have also been identified as possible slave quarters through intensive field survey, however, as the authors of the report note, “given the [17th century] focus of [the survey]...it was not considered appropriate to conduct a full scale study of this assemblage in terms of...intensive stages of ceramic analysis” (Miller et al., 2006, p. 3-63). The preceding analysis will conduct a more detailed reexamination of the ceramics and window glass from these components to determine more accurate occupation periods for these sites. This requires multiple lines of evidence, including historical and architectural data and multiple classes of diagnostic artifacts. Figure 6.5 The duplex and single quarter in the 1890s. Identifying the construction date and location of the duplex quarter requires historical, archaeo119 logical, and architectural data. Historical photographs indicate the location of the duplex in relation to the landscape, while comparing brick materials and chimney styles to the manor home chimneys suggest that the buildings were constructed contemporaneously. Further archaeological data, including a sample of ceramic data and nail types provide construction period dates and verify the building’s presence during slavery and well into the 20th century. Photographs dating back to the early 1890s indicate that the duplex stood along the bank of the St. Mary’s River since the 1840s. The earliest aerial photograph captured the duplex in its original location along the St. Mary’s River during the 1934 Tricentennial Celebration of St. Mary’s founding (Figure 6.4). Another photograph show the duplex along the coast of the St. Mary’s River, dating to the 1910s (Figure 6.7). Two earlier photographs show the duplex along the coast and standing next to the single quarter. One photograph (Figure 6.5) appears in Swepson Earl’s 1923 The Chesapeake Bay Country (Earle, 1923). However, the photograph itself was taken much earlier. Housed at the Maryland Historical Society, the actual photograph was taken on a glass plate, indicating that it dated to the 1890s, as does the similar condition of the single quarter compared to a third photograph. This third photograph, predominately of the single quarter but with the duplex in the background, has a more exact date (Figure 6.6). This photograph appears in a run of photos at the Maryland State Archives. Previous photos in the same run include the celebrations of the dedication of the Calvert Memorial at St. Mary’s City, which occurred in 1892. Prior to the photo of the single quarter, a photograph of the rear of the Brome manor home was taken. The photographer would have only had to swivel his camera to take the next photograph of the single quarter, indicating that the duplex and single quarter still occupied the location along the River in 1892. These photographs, as well as the existing structure, provide information about the building’s architecture. The duplex quarter measures 17’ 8” by 36’ 9”. It has a pitched gable roof and is one and half stories tall. There are two doors along the east side of the building, and four windows along the rear. The roof itself had wooden shingles, and the walls were sided with 1 by 10 foot boards, running horizontally around the structure. The duplex is of frame construction. This 120 Figure 6.6 The single quarter, with the duplex in the background, taken in 1892. indicates that it was a slave quarter used during the 19th century, as duplexes had little utility in a post-slavery context. Duplex quarters were a popular design choice for slaveholders, since it allowed for family-sized dwellings but could be built and maintained for less cost by conserving expensive materials, such as bricks for chimneys and foundations (McDaniel, 1982). Other contemporary examples of duplex quarters exist throughout St. Mary’s County. Of particular note are duplex quarters identified through historical evidence and oral history at Sotterley Plantation, which operated contemporaneously to Brome’s plantation (McDaniel, 1982, p. 98). A survey of the Maryland Historical Trust’s architectural files reveal a number of comparable duplex quarters throughout the County, including the Rosecroft Log House, a duplex at Blair’s Purchase, the Hodgdon House slave quarter, and a double quarter at Bushwood Manor. All of these quarters were built and used during the second quarter of the 19th century, suggesting that Brome adopted a popular 121 style of housing his enslaved laborers when reorganizing his plantation. Figure 6.7 The duplex quarter is shown ca. 1910. The architectural brick pattern of the chimney hearth is comparable to the patterns found above chimneys in the manor home. This suggests that the buildings were constructed contemporaneously. Similar brick materials also indicate this possibility, as both buildings used 17th-century bricks in their foundations and in the duplex’s chimney. The archaeological sample conducted during the 1998 field school season at HSMC provides evidence of the duplex’s occupation as a dwelling house during and after slavery. Of the random sample, 14 five-by-five foot excavation units located near the duplex quarter were selected for dating the duplex quarter’s occupation. 19th-century ceramics, bottle glass, and cut and wire nails were selected from each stratigraphic layer in each unit to determine the site’s period of occupation. While the historical and architectural evidence provide solid support for the use of the duplex and single quarters as slave quarters, examining the assemblages of these structures will help refine the occupation dates, while also serving as comparative models for other archaeological components identified as slave quarters on the property. 122 Duplex Ceramics Ceramics by Date No. pre 1830 Ceramics 38 1830-1865 Ceramics 103 1865 + Ceramics 205 Whiteware - Plain 524 TOTAL 870 Percent 4.40% 11.80% 23.60% 60.20% 100.00% Table 6.2 Duplex Ceramics by time period. Duplex Pearlware to White Ware Type No. Percent Pearlware 20 3.00% White ware 642 97.00% TOTAL 662 100.00% Table 6.3 Total number of pearlware and white ware ceramics at the duplex. The ceramic assemblage consisted of 1,051 sherds from the 19th and early 20th centuries, 870 of which can be divided into dateable periods (Table 6.2). Historical evidence indicates that this building served as a domestic residence until the 1960s, meaning that the ceramic mean date of 1864, while adequately reflecting a date that the building was occupied, does not provide evidence of the building’s earliest occupation and is not reliable considering the building’s long occupation. When divided into the four time periods used for analysis, 870 ceramic sherds were analyzed. Early period ceramics, consisting of artifact types and decoration styles whose popularity peaked during the first quarter of the 19th century, accounted for only 4.4 percent of the total ceramics. Middle century ceramics, dating from the 1840s to 1865, accounted for 11.8 percent of the assemblage, while undecorated white ware, which gained popularity in the 1830s and lasts through the present day, accounted for 60.2 percent of the assemblage. The remaining 23.6 percent of the assemblage dated to the late 19th and early 20th century, including 18.5 percent of ironstone. The small amount of early period ceramics indicates a limited occupation, and can likely be explained by use-lag: enslaved laborers living in the quarters likely possessed those artifacts when they moved into the buildings. One would expect a much larger percentage of plain and decorated pearlware if the building had been occupied during the first quarter of the century (Table 6.3). The high quantity of 123 Duplex Bottle Glass Color Color No. Percent Amber Colored 105 7.50% Aqua Tinted 317 22.80% Cobalt Colored 21 1.50% Green Colored 116 8.30% Manganese Tinted 33 2.40% Clear 799 57.40% TOTAL 1391 100.00% Table 6.4 Bottle glass color from the duplex quarter Duplex Nails Type No. Percent Cut Nails 427 40.30% Wire Nails 633 59.70% TOTAL 1060 100.00% Table 6.5 Nail types at the duplex quarter. decorated and undecorated white ware suggests that the building was occupied during the second quarter of the 19th century, and served as a slave quarter throughout the period of enslavement. The exceptionally high quantity of later ceramics reflects the building’s long 20th century occupation. Bottle glass color (Table 6.4) also suggests a pre-Emancipation period of occupation, although bottle glass is better served to date late-19th century sites due to the presence of manganese tinted and clear bottle glass. The strong presence of aqua colored glass, consisting of 22.8 percent of the assemblage, although possibly due to high quantities of Mason Jar glass, does indicate a pre-1870s occupation. The majority of clear colored bottle glass (57.4 percent) confirms a strong late 19th and 20th century occupation. Nails also indicate that the duplex was constructed and occupied for a long period of time prior to the transition to wire nails during the 1880s (Table 6.5). Cut nails accounted for 40.3 percent of the nails at the duplex. While not a majority, this is expected since the duplex was occupied well into the 1960s and stood in its location until 1992, providing almost 100 years of occupation and use since the adoption of the wire nail. The presence of 427 cut nails in the sample, therefore, indicate that the building was constructed a number of years prior to the 1880s. 124 Window glass, collected and measured for later analysis in this research (See Chapter 8), also suggests a mid-19th century occupation. This analysis used window glass from the 12 mitigation units excavated during the 1992 duplex quarter relocation project. Six of these units were excavated along front and rear exterior of the building. Glass from the rear of the duplex (n=1,048) indicated the presence of window glass dating to the second quarter of the 19th century, with the highest concentration occurring ca. 1860 (±7 years), likely a period where new windows were added to the structure. Window glass presence continues throughout the 19th century, and begins to decline ca. 1930 (±7 years). Window glass from the front of the duplex shows enormous spikes in window glass dating to the 1920s and 1930s, indicating that the structure was still occupied after the turn of the century. Based on historical, architectural, and archaeological evidence, the duplex quarter was constructed during the 1840s, most likely congruent with the construction of the manor home. The occupation of the structure continued through the 1960s, when historical and oral history indicates that an African American family, the Milburns, was the final family to live in the structure (Hall, 1998). Archaeological evidence, including ceramics, nail types, bottle glass, and window glass, corroborate these dates of occupation. Because these dates are particularly accurate due to the presence of historical documentation, the correlation between the artifacts and dates can be used as a model for identifying the occupation periods of subsequent domestic sites on the plantation that only have archaeological data available. A second domestic site was identified in photographs and through excavation to the north of the duplex quarter. The architectural style of the building, its location next to the duplex in photographs, and the archaeological diagnostic signature, indicate that it also served as a slave quarter on Brome’s plantation, and was occupied into the late-19th century. Archaeological excavations identified the building foundations for the single quarter to the North of the duplex location (Figure 6.8). The most evident wall was the area where the chimney had been located, highlighted by a wide scatter of brick bats and a hearth. The front wall was identified by a number of river stones that had been pressed into the earth. Brick foundations 125 Figure 6.8 Outline shows the foundations of the single quarter, chimney, and the interior brick lined subfloor pit. identified the rear wall and South gable wall. In each instance, the foundations were only partially intact, indicating that the building was dismantled prior to the excavation process. The different materials used in the building’s foundation also indicate that the structure was regularly repaired and reused during its tenure. The building measured 15 by 17 feet. The most recent photograph of the single quarter appears next to the duplex quarter during the 1910s (Figure 6.9). The building is in poor condition, with a collapsed roof and missing clapboards. The structure is uninhabitable, and likely serving as a shed or barn. Two photographs from the 1890s show the building intact, but in poor condition (Figure 6.5 and 6.6) The glass plate photograph shows the building next to the duplex quarter, with damaged clapboards and 126 Figure 6.9 The single quarter appears in the background of this photo, and is shown in disrepair. shingles. A second photo, taken in 1892, shows the north gable end of the quarter, again with clapboard damage. The poor condition of the single quarter, particularly when compared to the duplex quarter, indicates that the building was falling out of use as a domestic structure by this time. The photographs from the late 19th century show a building in poor repair, with horizontal planks on the upper story gable end, but loose, vertical planks on the first floor. Nail lines appear to be visible along the vertical planks, suggesting that it may have been frame construction. The foundations left a minimal archaeological signature, due to the plowing and destruction of the building, although in some instances the bricks ran end to end, and did not go deeply into the earth like the duplex. The front corner foundation was made of large river stones, that had been pressed into the earth, suggesting they were added after the building’s construction, likely as an effort to 127 Single Quarter Ceramics Ceramics by Date No. Percent pre 1830 Ceramics 44 3.70% 1830-1865 Ceramics 101 8.40% 1865 + Ceramics 208 17.30% Whiteware - Plain 847 70.60% TOTAL 1200 100.00% Table 6.6 Ceramics by date at the single quarter. Single Quarter Pearlware to Whiteware Type No. Percent Pearlware 24 2.40% White ware 966 97.60% TOTAL 990 100.00% Table 6.7 Pearlware and white ware at the single quarter. repair a faulty foundation. Figure 6.5 shows this corner of the building to have significant damage and some raised clapboards, indicating these stones may have supported this part of the building at the time. The building stood one and a half stories tall, and a brick chimney sat on the North gable end and had a single hearth. The architectural style of the quarter is comparable to other identified slave quarters in St. Mary’s County. Riverview Plantation, dating to the early 19th century, has a log construction quarter measuring 17’8” by 15’8”. The structure has a brick chimney, vertical clapboards, and a central door, similar to the Brome quarter (McDaniel, 1982, p. 58). Quarters at Sotterley Plantation in St. Mary’s County, and Grasslands and Cedar Park Plantations in Ann Arundel County, all have single quarters with similar construction styles and sizes, in addition to brick or stone chimneys (McDaniel, 1982, p. 49, 57, 92). These quarters, all dating to the first half of the 19th century, provide comparative evidence of the single quarter’s utility as a slave quarter on Brome’s landscape. Archaeological evidence suggests a similar 19th-century occupation period to the duplex quarter. Again, a ceramic mean date of 1863 is compromised by a potentially long occupation date, indicated by the presence of the single quarter in photographs dating to the 1910s. However, the ceramic assemblage at the single quarter asserts an even stronger mid-19th century diagnostic sig- 128 Single Quarter Bottle Glass Color Color No. Percent Amber Colored 89 9.10% Aqua Tinted 265 27.20% Cobalt Colored 2 0.20% Green Colored 98 10.10% Manganese Tinted 41 4.20% Clear 479 49.20% TOTAL 974 100.00% Table 6.8 Bottle glass color at the single quarter. nature then the duplex, largely due to its lack of an extensive 20th-century occupation (Table 6.6). Early 19th-century artifacts account for 3.7 percent of the assemblage. Decorated ceramics from the middle period account for 8.4 percent, slightly less then the duplex quarter, but undecorated white ware accounts for 70.6 percent of the total assemblage, 10 percent more than the duplex. This is also reflected in the presence of late-19th and 20th century artifact types, which only includes 17.3 percent of the assemblage. While somewhat comparable to the duplex quarter, at 23.6 percent, examining the quantity of specific types within this group suggests an occupation that ends before the turn of the century. While yellow ware, dating to 1900, accounts for 50.4 percent of the late ceramics, Ironstone, dating to 1930, accounts for 78.5 percent of the duplex’s late ceramics, indicating that the single quarter fell out of use before the turn of the century. Nonetheless, the strong presence of mid-19th century decorated and undecorated white wares, particularly when compared to pearlware, indicates the single quarter was constructed as one of Brome’s slave quarters (Table 6.7). Bottle glass data indicates an even stronger presence of aqua tinted bottle glass, and less clear bottle glass then the duplex (Table 6.8). Again, this suggests that the single quarter had a shorter occupation, but does not necessarily validate a pre-Civil War occupation. Nails provide stronger evidence: 70.3 percent of the nail assemblage is cut nails, indicating that the building was constructed and occupied for a long period prior to the 1880s. Considering the single quarter’s proximity to the duplex quarter and its architectural similarities to other St. Mary’s County slave quarters from the second quarter of the 19th century, it is likely 129 that this building was constructed during the slave period. Ceramic evidence suggests that the building’s strongest occupation was during the second and third quarters of the 19th century, but did not extend into the 20th century due to the lack of ironstone. Photographic evidence shows the gradual decline of the single quarter during the 1890s and 1900s, resulting in the eventual collapse of the structure. The lack of wire nails from the assemblage, compared to the duplex quarter, indicates that this building fell out of use before the wire nail gained absolute popularity. The single quarter, while different architecturally then the duplex quarter, clearly demonstrates a simultaneous occupation, and was likely constructed during the 1840s or 50s as one of Brome’s slave quarters and served as a domestic structure until the 1880s or 90s, but stood on the landscape until the 1910s. Figure 6.10 This map shows archaeological components identified in Miller et al. (2006). In the report, they were identified as components dating from 1840 to 1900. 130 141C Artifact Types Type No. Percent Ceramics 98 36.00% Table Glass 14 5.10% Window Glass 27 9.90% Bottle Glass 90 33.10% Cut Nails 13 4.80% Wire Nails 30 11.00% TOTAL 272 100.00% Table 6.9 Artifact counts at component 141C. Historical documents indicate evidence for additional slave quarters on the landscape close to the manor home. The US Slave Schedules, compiled in 1860, note the presence of seven slave houses belonging to Brome, indicating that there were more structures on the landscape then just the single and duplex quarter (United States Census Bureau, 1860c). Similarly, the 1870 census lists nine households of African American families after Brome’s home, five of which include his former slaves (United States Census Bureau, 1870b). Most likely, a number of these buildings were former slave quarters, and their proximity to Brome’s household on the census suggests they were located in proximity to the manor home. Archaeological survey conducted by HSMC during the 1990s reveals five 19th-century archaeological components extending from the duplex quarter along Key Swamp to behind the agricultural complex. The survey, a Phase I intensive surface collection, suggests that these components represented 19th-century domestic sites due to the presence of ceramics, bottle glass, table glass, and architectural materials such as nails and window glass, and that their proximity to the manor home, agricultural complex, and the single and duplex quarter suggests they were the additional Brome slave quarters listed in the Slave Schedules, and later used by former slaves as tenant or sharecropper homes (Miller et al., 2006). For these components to provide insight into the transition from slavery to freedom, however, a reanalysis of the diagnostic artifacts collected from the sites must be examined to determine their period of occupation on the plantation. Component 141C is located to the East of the duplex quarter, identified by the presence of 272 artifacts dating to the 19th century (Table 6.9). Cut nails (n=13, 4.8 percent), wire nails (n=30, 11 131 141C Ceramics Ceramics by Date No. Percent pre 1830 Ceramics 14 17.30% 1830-1865 Ceramics 10 12.30% 1865 + Ceramics 3 3.70% Whiteware - Plain 54 66.70% TOTAL 81 100.00% Table 6.10 Ceramics by time at component 141C. 141C Pearlware to White Ware Type No. Percent Pearlware 6 8.30% White ware 66 91.70% TOTAL 72 100.00% Table 6.11 Pearlware and white ware at component 141C. percent) and window glass (n=27, 9.9 percent) indicate the presence of a structure, while ceramics (n=98, 36 percent) and table glass (n=14, 5.1 percent) indicate that component was likely domestic. The ceramic mean date of 1851 is much earlier then the single and duplex quarters, reflecting a collection of ceramics that include earlier period ceramics, and few late-19th century ceramics. This is reflected in the data. Compared to the duplex and single quarter, this assemblage includes more first quarter ceramics, accounting for 17.3 percent of the assemblage (Table 6.10). Decorated ceramics from the 1840s through the Civil War account for 12.3 percent, a number comparable to the duplex quarter. Most significant is the presence of undecorated white ware, accounting for 66.7 percent of the assemblage. A significant first quarter presence would include comparable number of pearlware: instead, only six sherds were recovered, indicating that the pearlware and creamware identified on the site is likely the product of use-lag, not an early 19th-century occupation (Table 6.11). Equally significant is the lack of late-19th century artifacts. Only three sherds, two yellow ware and one Rockingham ware, making up the post-1865 assemblage. This suggests that the domestic component of the site did not last long after the Civil War. Other diagnostic artifacts, however, indicate a later presence within this component. While 19th century bottle glass such as aqua tinted (n=12, 13.3 percentage) and amber colored (n=19, 132 141C Bottle Glass Color Color No. Percent Amber Colored 19 21.10% Aqua Tinted 12 13.30% Cobalt Colored 3 3.30% Green Colored 8 8.90% Manganese Tinted 14 15.60% Clear 34 37.80% TOTAL 90 100.00% Table 6.12 Bottle glass color at component 141C. 141C Nails Type No. Percent Cut Nails 13 30.20% Wire Nails 30 69.80% TOTAL 43 100.00% Table 6.13 Nail types at component 141C 21.1 percent) glass are present in substantial quantities, the equal presence of manganese tinted bottle glass (n=14, 15.6 percent) indicates a late-19th century occupation (Table 6.12). Thirtyfour shards of clear bottle glass also accounts for the largest percentage of the bottle glass (n=37.8 percent). While bottle glass color is not as precise as ceramic data, the large presence of manganese bottle glass is strongly associated with a late-19th century presence. Nail analysis also indicates a late presence (Table 6.13). Of the 43 nails present, 69.8 percent (n=30) were wire nails, while only 13 (n=30.2 percent) were cut nails. This indicates that the structure may have been constructed during the 19th century, but existed through the 1880s. Window glass analysis is equally confusing, indicating the presence of window glass shards (n=27) dating from the 1830s to the late 19th century, with the most shards grouping between the 1830s and 1870s. Accounting for this discrepancy makes a identifying an occupation period with confidence difficult. The ceramic data indicates that the domestic occupation of the site is strongly mid19th century, while the bottle glass and nails indicate a mid-19th century structure that stood until the end of the century. A number of possibilities could explain this discrepancy. It is possible 133 141E Artifact Types Type No. Percent Ceramics 49 37.10% Table Glass 5 3.80% Window Glass 18 13.60% Bottle Glass 36 27.30% Cut Nails 17 12.90% Wire Nails 7 5.30% TOTAL 132 100.00% Table 6.14 Artifact types at component 141E. 141E Ceramics Ceramics by Date No. Percent pre 1830 Ceramics 9 22.50% 1830-1865 Ceramics 9 22.50% 1865 + Ceramics 1 2.50% Whiteware - Plain 21 52.50% TOTAL 40 100.00% Table 6.15 Ceramics by date at component 141E. that a domestic structure converted to a different function sometime after the Civil War. It is possible that two structures existed in this area, such as a domestic structure that existed during slavery and a barn or shed that was added to the landscape sometime during the late 19th century. Another possibility takes into consideration a late 19th century building, called the Dutchman’s house, constructed north of this site. The late-19th century element could be refuse from that home’s occupants, contaminating the remains of a slave period domestic site. Without further archaeological excavations, the true nature of this component cannot be determined. What is most evident by the assemblage, however, is the ceramic assemblage, which denotes a slave period, mid19th century domestic habitation that ends shortly after the Civil War. The lack of late 19th-century ceramics indicates that, while a structure may have been present, it was not used as a domestic site. Moving eastward, component 141E includes 132 artifacts (Table 6.14). Twelve window glass fragments, 17 cut nails, and 7 wire nails indicate that it was the site of a 19th century structure, while high quantities of ceramic (n=49) and the presence of table glass (n=5) indicate a domestic structure. 134 141E Pearlware to White Ware Type No. Percent Pearlware 5 13.20% White ware 33 86.80% TOTAL 38 100.00% Table 6.16 Pearlware to white ware at component 141E. 141E Bottle Glass Color Color No. Percent Amber Colored 4 11.10% Aqua Tinted 4 11.10% Cobalt Colored 4 11.10% Green Colored 6 16.70% Manganese Tinted 9 25.00% Clear 9 25.00% TOTAL 36 100.00% Table 6.17 Bottle glass color at component 141E. 141E Nails Type No. Percent Cut Nails 17 70.80% Wire Nails 7 29.20% TOTAL 24 100.00% Table 6.18 Nail types at component 141E. The ceramic mean date for the component is 1848, drawing similarities to 141C. The assemblage itself is also similar (Table 6.15). First quarter ceramics account for 22.5 percent of the assemblage, as do decorated middle century wares. Once again, the high quantity of white ware (n=33) far outweighs the presence of undecorated pearlware (n=5), indicating middle to late 19th century occupation (Table 6.16). However, the almost complete lack of ceramics from the postCivil War period aside from one sherd of non-impressed edge decorated white ware suggest that this site likely did not have a domestic occupation beyond the end of the Civil War. Bottle glass data supports this occupation, as the presence of different glass colors is limited (Table 6.17). Manganese tinted and clear bottle glass represent the largest quantities of bottle glass color, each accounting for 25 percent of the assemblage. This does indicate a possible late19th century occupation at the site, however the total bottle glass assemblage, consisting of only 135 143B Artifact Types Artifact Type No. Percent Ceramics 48 34.80% Table Glass 2 1.40% Window Glass 12 8.70% Bottle Glass 32 23.20% Cut Nails 37 26.80% Wire Nails 7 5.10% TOTAL 138 100.00% Table 6.19 Artifact types at component 143B. 36 shards, is the second smallest of the components collected. Nails, however, suggest a limited post-Emancipation occupation, with wire nails constituting only 29.2 percent (n=7) of the nail assemblage, a similar ratio to the single quarter and indicating a pre-1880s construction (Table 6.18). Window glass thickness also indicates an occupation no later then the 1860s, as only a few shards extend past this date, while most date to the 1860s or earlier, suggesting that windows were not continually replaced during later periods. Considering a preponderance of first half 19th-century ceramics, and a lack of late-19th century ceramics and window glass, it is likely that this structure was part of the original landscape and was soon unoccupied after the Civil War. While some late-19th century artifacts exist, including some wire nails and manganese tinted bottle glass, the limited quantities of these artifacts indicates that they may have appeared in the assemblage through different means. The third component, 143B, is located to the east of 141E, and includes 138 artifacts in the assemblage (Table 6.19). Window glass (n=12, 8.7 percent), cut nails (n=37, 26.8 percent), and wire nails (n=7, 5.1 percent) indicate the strong presence of a structure, while ceramics (n=48, 34.8 percent) and table glass (n=2, 1.4 percent) suggest that this structure was domestic. The ceramic mean date of 1845 suggests a building that was constructed and occupied during Brome’s early occupation. The ceramics corroborate this date (Table 6.20). Early ceramics account for 26.8 percent of the assemblage, while middle century decorated ceramics account for 29.3 percent. Pearlware accounts for the highest percentage of early ceramics of all the components, although it is still fewer then white wares (Table 6.21). Undecorated white ware accounts for 36.6 136 143B Ceramics Ceramics by Date No. Percent pre 1830 Ceramics 11 26.80% 1830-1865 Ceramics 12 29.30% 1865 + Ceramics 3 7.30% Whiteware - Plain 15 36.60% TOTAL 41 100.00% Table 6.20 Ceramics by date at component 143B. 143B Pearlware to White Ware Type No. Percent Pearlware 9 23.70% White ware 29 76.30% TOTAL 38 100.00% Table 6.21 Pearlware and white ware from component 143B 143B Bottle Glass Color Color No. Percent Amber Colored 3 9.40% Aqua Tinted 8 25.00% Cobalt Colored 0 0.00% Green Colored 6 18.80% Manganese Tinted 1 3.10% Clear 14 43.80% TOTAL 32 100.00% Table 6.22 Bottle glass color from component 143B. percent of the assemblage provide evidence for a strong middle to late 19th century occupation. However, the post-Emancipation era ceramics include only three sherds of ironstone, accounting for only 7.3 percent of the assemblage. This suggests that the component was only occupied during the middle decades of 19th century, and likely one of the first quarters built during the 1840s. The bottle glass data corroborates this analysis through the presence of aqua tinted bottle glass (Table 6.22). But it is the relative lack of manganese tinted bottle glass that indicates the structure was not in use during the late 19th century. Nails provide even stronger evidence of a predominately middle 19th century occupation, with 84.1 percent of the 44 total nails collected being machine cut (Table 6.23). This evidence puts the construction and maintenance of this building 137 143B Nails Type No. Percent Cut Nails 37 84.10% Wire Nails 7 15.90% TOTAL 44 100.00% Table 6.23 Nail types from component 143B. 139C Artifact Types Type No. Percent Ceramics 47 26.60% Table Glass 15 8.50% Window Glass 21 11.90% Bottle Glass 64 36.20% Cut Nails 20 11.30% Wire Nails 10 5.60% TOTAL 177 100.00% Table 6.24 Artifact types from component 139C. Ceramics by Date pre 1830 Ceramics 1830-1865 Ceramics 1865 + Ceramics Whiteware - Plain TOTAL No. Percent 2 6.10% 1 3.00% 10 30.30% 20 60.60% 33 100.00% Table 6.25 Ceramics by date in component 139C. squarely in the middle 19th century. Window glass also indicates that the building was not occupied after the 1860s, with only a few shards dating after Emancipation. Combined with ceramic evidence that suggests no late-19th century ceramics, it is likely that this structure served as a slave quarter, and was abandoned sometime after the Civil War. Component 139C is identified by 177 artifacts (Table 6.24). Window glass (n=21, 11.9 percent), cut nails (n=11.3 percent) and wire nails (n=10, 5.6 percent) indicate that a structure was present, while the presence of ceramics (n=47) and table glass (n=15) indicate that the structure was domestic. A ceramic mean date of 1869 is the latest mean date of any components, and indicates that there will be a strong late-19th century ceramic component in the assemblage shown in Table 6.25. 138 139C Pearlware to White Ware Type No. Percent Pearlware 0 0.00% White ware 22 100.00% TOTAL 22 100.00% Table 6.26 Pearlware and white ware in component 139C. 139C Bottle Glass Color Color No. Percent Amber Colored 19 29.70% Aqua Tinted 10 15.60% Cobalt Colored 1 1.60% Green Colored 4 6.30% Manganese Tinted 13 20.30% Clear 17 26.60% TOTAL 64 100.00% Table 6.27 Bottle glass color at component 139C. 139C Nails Type No. Percent Cut Nails 20 66.70% Wire Nails 10 33.30% TOTAL 30 100.00% Table 6.28 Nail types at component 139C. Only 6.1 percent of the assemblage is early 19th century ceramics, while the presence of middle century decorated ceramics is even less, including only a sponge decorated sherd (3 percent). Comparing pearlware to white ware in the assemblage further supports the lack of a early 19th century occupation (Table 6.26). Plain white ware accounts for 60.6 percent of the assemblage, and likely corresponds to a late-19th century occupation. This is emphasized by the strong presence of late-19th century ceramics accounting for 30.3 percent, made up of Ironstone (n=6) and Rockingham ware (n=4). Bottle glass also suggests a second half of the 19th-century occupation (Table 6.27). Manganese tinted bottle glass accounted for 20.3 percent of the assemblage, although earlier 19thcentury colored glass such as aqua tinted bottle glass also accounted for a high percentage of the glass, indicating the possibility of a mid-19th century occupation. Nails suggest a similar conclu139 139B Artifact Types Type No. Percent Ceramics 33 22.90% Table Glass 5 3.50% Window Glass 24 16.70% Bottle Glass 38 26.40% Cut Nails 36 25.00% Wire Nails 8 5.60% TOTAL 144 100.00% Table 6.29 Artifact types at component 139B. 139B Ceramics Ceramics by Date No. Percent pre 1830 Ceramics 4 18.20% 1830-1865 Ceramics 3 13.60% 1865 + Ceramics 3 13.60% Whiteware - Plain 12 54.50% TOTAL 22 100.00% Table 6.30 Ceramics by date at component 139B. sion (Table 6.28). Of the 30 nails, two-thirds were cut (n=20), indicating a building constructed prior to the introduction of wire nails, but that existed through the 1880s and was repaired with wire nails. The limited number of wire nails indicates that this structure was not occupied too long after the 1880s, with comparable percentages to the single quarter, which ceased being a domestic structure by the end of the 19th century. Based on the evidence, it is likely that this component is representative of a building built during the late 1850s or 1860s, and occupied into the 1880s. The lack of early ceramics indicates a later occupation date, although the majority of cut nails indicate a building built prior to the 1880s. This building, therefore, may have been constructed near the end of slavery, or even after Emancipation, but did not last beyond the end of the 19th century. The final component, 139B, is located just behind the agricultural complex. The assemblage includes window glass (n=24, 16.7 percent), cut nails (n=36, 25 percent), and wire nails (n=8, 5.6 percent), indicating the presence of a structure. Ceramics (n=33, 22.9 percent) and table glass (n=5, 3.5 percent) suggest that the component is representative of a domestic space (Table 6.29). 140 139B Pearlware to White Ware Type No. Percent Pearlware 3 16.70% White ware 15 83.30% TOTAL 18 100.00% Table 6.31 Pearlware and white ware at component 139B 139B Bottle Glass Color Color No. Percent Amber Colored 4 10.50% Aqua Tinted 9 23.70% Cobalt Colored 0 0.00% Green Colored 12 31.60% Manganese Tinted 3 7.90% Clear 10 26.30% TOTAL 38 100.00% Table 6.32 Bottle glass color at component 139B. 139B Nails Type No. Percent Cut Nails 36 81.80% Wire Nails 8 18.20% TOTAL 44 100.00% Table 6.33 Nail type at component139B. The Ceramic Mean at 139B is 1854, suggesting an occupation in the middle 19th century. A closer look at the ceramics suggests that this is likely (Table 6.30) 18.2 percent (n=4) of the ceramics come from the first quarter of the 19th century, while three sherds (13.6 percent) of decorated white ware were manufactured between the 1840s and 1860s. Three additional sherds also come from the post-Emancipation period. The predominance of undecorated and decorated white ware, again suggest that this structure was occupied during the mid to late 19th century, since there are no undecorated pearlware present on the site, and only three decorated sherds, to indicate a comparable early occupation (Table 6.31). Overall, the presence of bottle glass was limited, with only 38 shards collected (Table 6.33). Most significant is the lack of Manganese tinted bottle glass, suggesting that the occupation of this site ended prior to the proliferation of that manufacture type. A lack of cobalt colored glass 141 suggests that the space was not occupied during the 20th century. Nails strongly suggest that this building was not occupied past the 1880s, as cut nails account for 81.8 percent (n=36) of the nail assemblage (Table 6.33). The only artifact not corresponding to this pattern is window glass, which shows evidence of shards dating from the 1820s through the 1910s, with the only concentrations appearing at the turn of the century. This may be explained by a different deposition, however, since they do not correspond with the rest of the diagnostic artifacts on the site. Considering the evidence as a whole for component 139B, it is likely that this building was constructed during the 1840s or 50s, as suggested by the ceramic data, and was not occupied past the 1880s, when one would expect to see higher quantities of wire nails and manganese tinted bottle glass then appear in this assemblage. The historical record can further refine these dates by examining census data and other documents detailing the lives of those who lived in these buildings. Brome’s slaveholdings are reflected through four documents: the 1840, 50, and 60 census, and a list he compiled in 1867 detailing the enslaved property he lost during the Civil War (United States Census Bureau, 1850c, 1860c; Dent, 1867). The 1870 and 1880 census records list a number of African American households directly preceding Brome’s enumeration, indicating that they may have lived in these buildings (United States Census Bureau, 1870b, 1880b). Corresponding information regarding Brome’s agricultural activities and investments in labor via the 1870 and 1880 Agricultural Census, and the eventual sale of the majority of the property after his death to cover debts in 1888, provide additional evidence of change in the landscape, and further refine the occupation dates for the various domestic sites on the plantation (United States Census Bureau, 1870a, 1880a). Tracking the growth and decline of these households through time results in a more accurate understanding of the necessity and disappearance of these buildings from the landscape. Brome inherited the plantation in 1839, at which point only the agricultural complex was part of the plantation landscape examined here. Brome’s construction of his manor home, ca. 1841 likely preceded the construction of the slave quarter row. Brome owned 30 slaves in 1840 (United States Census Bureau, 1840). It is unlikely that the seven quarters that are documented in 1860 142 Site Duplex Single 141C 141E 143B 139C 139B Beginning End 1840s 1960s 1840s 1880s - 1890s 1840s 1870s 1840s 1870s 1840s 1870s late 1850s 1880s - 1890s 1840s or 1850s 1880s Table 6.34 Occupation dates for slave and tenant quarters at St. Mary’s Manor. were on the landscape before Brome moved to the riverside in 1841. However, Brome would have required additional housing, as his slave population increased in subsequent decades: in 1850, he owned 42 slaves, and in 1860 he owned 58. At his peak during the Civil War, Brome owned 59 slaves. This would explain the potentially later addition of components 139C and 139B, the evidence for which shows later occupations during the 1850s. It would also explain the inclusion of duplex quarters, a common strategy for housing enslaved laborers. Duplexes used less space and materials, while providing additional living units. The 1870 census, while enumerating post-Emancipation African American laborers, suggests the presence of at least two duplex quarters based on households that included multiple families, or large groups of laborers (United States Census Bureau, 1870b). Based on the distance of these two groupings from Brome’s house and from each other in the census, it is likely that the first, building 91, is the duplex that stood until the 1990s. Building 96 could represent building 143B or 139B. These buildings are more likely to be duplexes considering their distance from the manor home and their potential construction date of the 1840s, congruent with building 91, but also because of the high number of brick recovered from these components. If building 96 was constructed in a manner similar to building 91, with a large, double hearth, central chimney and brick foundations, more brick would have been used then in single quarters. The 1870 census also provides a glimpse into the plantation landscape following the Civil War, with nine African American households listed immediately following Brome’s manor home. The presence of a number of individuals and families living in these households that also were 143 enslaved by Brome during the Civil War make it likely that many of these buildings were former slave quarters, but also indicates that other structures existed. The listing of seven quarters in 1860 means that two buildings were added to the landscape, perhaps accounting for component 139C, which was built later than the others. It is also possible that some of these components could represent multiple households: the proximity of the single and duplex quarters make it likely that quarters in other components were closer together. Some households, such as building 93, shared only by Hiram and Eliza Bennet, or building 95, lived in by only Joseph Neal, may have not been very large, and therefore not left a significant archaeological signature. The disappearing archaeological signatures also reflects the historical record, as only three African American families lived on the plantation in 1880, occupying only two households (United States Census Bureau, 1880b). Any buildings built after Emancipation and occupied in 1870 may have been quickly abandoned, leaving little trace in the surface collection. The presence of only two households, one a duplex, on the landscape provides additional data to support the 1870s as the final decade that components 141C, 141E, and 143B were occupied as domestic structures. The remaining quarters, which continue to show domestic activity, likely remained on the landscape during the 1880s, although they all may have not been occupied at the time of the 1880 census. The year 1888 is also significant in determining the end of household occupations. This was the year of John Brome’s death, but also the year that all but the 100 acres surrounding the manor home and agricultural complex were sold to cover his debts. The need for large labor forces went with this sale, providing evidence to indicate that this was the likely end of occupation for buildings such as 139B, 139C, and, quite likely, the single quarter. While photographs show the single quarter standing after 1888, its declining condition indicates that these photographs document the building’s gradual decline through inhabitation, and possibly its reuse as a storage shed or barn. By 1934, all traces of any former slave or tenant quarter, aside from the duplex, had been removed from the landscape. 144 6.5 Off the Plantation: The Landscape of St. Mary’s City While St. Mary’s Manor and its associated plantation grew during the 1840s, so did the townscape of St. Mary’s City, which bordered Brome’s property to the west. This portion of the landscape saw an important resurgence during the 1830s, as interest grew in the area’s history as the colonial capital of Maryland. A number of buildings and ruins were visible on the landscape in 1840 when Brome took over management of the plantation, and the City’s landscape changed over the ensuing decade with his aid. Examining historical documents, photographs, and secondary sources provide a glimpse into this changing landscape. Two secondary sources written a century apart illuminate the 19th-century landscape: US Congressman John Kennedy’s 1838 piece of historical fiction, Rob of the Bowl, uses his personal experience visiting the site in 1836 and Henry Chandlee Forman’s 1938 architectural and archaeological history Jamestown and St. Mary’s: Buried Cities of Romance (Kennedy, 1838; Forman, 1938) In each work, the authors provide descriptions of the contemporary landscape of St. Mary’s City to interpret the historical landscape. In Kennedy’s instance, this provides insight into the remains of the 17th century city in relation to certain 19th-century buildings, while Forman’s account does the same in regard to the remnants of the 19th-century landscape after Brome’s family had lived and modified the property. While a number of Forman’s interpretations about the location of various 17th-century sites were later disproved by HSMC’s excavations, they are important in understanding the 19th-century because they reveal how the 17th-century landscape was believed to have existed to Brome’s descendants, and likely Brome himself. To understand the location of various 17th-century ruins on the 19th-century landscape, it is important to briefly discuss the colonial city as we now understand it. St. Mary’s City was the first European settlement in Maryland, and served as the Colony’s capital city from 1634 to 1690. This urban landscape has been the topic of archaeological research at Historic St. Mary’s City since the 1970s, and a number of discoveries have identified critical buildings in an intentionally designed, Baroque town plan (Miller, 1988). St. Mary’s City was founded along the St. Mary’s River by a group of settlers from England, led by Leonard Calvert, a Catholic. Calvert came to the 145 Figure 6.11 The layout of 17th century St. Mary’s City as presented in (Miller et al., 2006). New World to build a colony based on the concept of “liberty of conscience,” the early concept of religious freedom. The City served as the capital of the Maryland colony until 1690, when, following the Protestant Revolution, its governmental functions moved to Annapolis. During that time, however, St. Mary’s City grew from a small settlement of impermanent structures to an increasingly permanent urban landscape. This was emphasized through the planned city design that began to emerge during the 1660s (Figure 6.11). This landscape reflected a Baroque design, with the Town Center as the focal point. Four buildings, including the home of the first Governor, were arranged in this central space. The four corners of these buildings formed a perfect square, and the center point served as the center of the town. From this point, four roads extended outwards, each with an important brick structure at their ends. Each structure was equidistant from the town center, and were divided in pairs on the east and west sides, forming a pair of identical triangles of 146 roads. On the east side laid the chapel and school, and on the west the statehouse and jail (Miller, 1988). This division of function, placing secular activities on the west of the town and religious institutions on the east reflected the most significant contribution of St. Mary’s City: the practice of tolerance of conscious, or the separation of church and state (Leone and Hurry, 1998). Without the governmental function, St. Mary’s City began to fall into ruin during the early 18th century. Aside from the few brick structures, many of the buildings on the landscape were earthfast, and quickly disappeared from the landscape, and the parcels of land were converted into tobacco fields. Only the statehouse survived the 18th century intact, serving as an Episcopal Church. The memory of the space remained with those who owned and worked the land. An advertisement to sell the property placed by William Hicks in 1771 refers to the land as “once the metropolis of Maryland, and flourishing city of St. Mary’s,” and discusses the potential value of the property as “conveniently situated as any in these parts for commerce and trade” (Hicks, 1771). Hicks also references the lots that were for sale, all which maintained the same names from the 17th century, and many that indicated the function of the building that had stood on that property: Saint Mary’s Freehold, Governor’s Field, Squires Purchase, St. Peters, and the Old Chapel Land. By the 19th century, only a few buildings remained on the landscape that pertained to the 17th century landscape. The statehouse had become an Episcopal Church called Trinity, and served in that function until 1829, when age (Forman, 1938). In a 19th century attempt at historic preservation, many of the bricks from the ruins of the statehouse were used to construct a new church next to it (Wollon Jr, 1993). Kennedy describes the ruins and the new church: The mouldering and shapeless ruin of the ancient State House, whose venerable remains - I relate it with a blush - have been pillaged, to furnish building materials for an unsightly church, which now obtrusively presents the mottled, mortar-stained and shabby front to the view of the visitor, immediately beside the wreck of the early monument of the founders of Maryland (Kennedy, 1838) Kennedy’s account describes the Church as “unsightly” coincides with other accounts that 147 Figure 6.12 Trinity Church’s original construction, as it stood from 1829 to 1889. the original structure resembled a barn. Only one painting exists of the church in its original configuration. It reflected a typical 18th-century design, adopting a Georgian style and was two stories high with two levels of windows. Two front doors led to two separate isles leading to the alter, with balconies on the three other sides (Trinity Church, 1992b; Wollon Jr, 1993). By 1889, the building was out of date, and dramatic modifications were made to change it into the Gothic style (Figure 6.13). The walls were lowered, removing the balconies, and a steep roof installed. Three dormers were added, and an open belfry and steeple above a new single front door, which led to a new single, center isle (Wollon Jr, 1993). This created a more visually appealing Church, that, in the words of Forman, “conform[ed] to the colonial traditions of St. Mary’s City” (Forman, 1938, p. 292). This version of the Church still stands today, while the corners of the Statehouse are 148 Figure 6.13 The Trinity Church ca. 1910. marked, interspersed among the Church’s graveyard. The statehouse was not the only 17th-century site known on the landscape. Forman notes that the remains of St. Peter’s, located across Route 5, were also visible and regularly visited during the 19th century, stating that its “walls and chimneys were partly standing” (Forman, 1938). This was expressly mentioned in an account of the Philodemic Society’s 1855 celebration of the founding of St. Mary’s City, when the old ruins were visited as part of the festivities (Chandler, 1855). A photograph from the 1910s shows individuals looking at the ground at the “Site of the Governor’s House” in a cornfield, although no visible remains appear. It is likely that, by this time, the above ground ruins had fallen. Forman also notes the knowledge of two other buildings by Brome’s descendants: the location of the 17th century Chapel and the location of the Country’s House. The Chapel was marked by the presence of a bricks in the fields, often turning up in plows, and Forman notes that its location had always been known “since its destruction in 1705” (Forman, 1938, p. 250). The Country’s 149 house was partially excavated by Forman during the 1930s at the behest of Brome’s descendants, as the structure was located next to St. Mary’s Manor. Forman notes the difficulty in performing the excavations due to the presence of outbuildings and fences (Forman, 1938). Another historical architect, Swepson Earl, also discussed the location of the Country’s House, noting that “the residence of Gov. Leonard Calvert” was “close to the site of which is now located” St. Mary’s Manor (Earle, 1923, p. 143). Since that time, HSMC has revisited the site after relocating the manor home, and determined that the Country’s House was the residence of Lord Baltimore, and stood at the center of the City’s town plan. Figure 6.14 A sketch of the Mulberry Tree drawn in 1852 that hung in St. Mary’s Manor. The final remnant of the 17th-century was the surviving Mulberry Tree, located near the shoreline on the peninsula, behind the Trinity Church. The tree marks the supposed location where Governor Calvert signed the initial treaty with the Native Americans, allowing the colonial city to be built. A drawing of the tree dating to 1852 hung in the Brome home, the only surviving visual 150 of the tree (Figure 6.14). In 1892, the tree was taken down and replaced by the Calvert Memorial, a large obelisk marking the tree’s location. The remains of the tree itself were turned into relics and sold by the Trinity Church, to fund their renovations. Figure 6.15 The Female Seminary ca. 1910, with the Trinity Church on the left. The memory and presence of the remains of the 17th-century landscape became integral in the addition of the St. Mary’s Female Seminary (Figure 6.15). Funded as a living memorial to the founding of Maryland, the State supported the project in 1839. The Seminary was completed in 1845, and stood facing the Trinity Church and the statehouse ruins (Fausz, 1990). It would gradually increase in size during the late 19th century, but was largely contained to the area surrounding the original building. The structure burned in 1924, but was rebuilt to the same specifications and location, and still stands today (Fausz, 1990). The construction of the Seminary coincided with Brome’s donation of land for a road and his construction of Wharf along the River. Finished in 1846, the Wharf was a critical element of the 19th century landscape, and served as an access point for Seminary students arriving to school, but 151 Figure 6.16 Brome’s wharf, likely taken after it was rebuilt in 1874 due to the addition of a warehouse. also as a connection for Brome and the community to the broader social and cultural landscape. It became a major stop on the steamship route from Baltimore to Washington, and carried passengers and goods. During the Civil War the Wharf was destroyed, but was rebuilt in 1874, along with multiple warehouses for shipping goods (unknown, 1874). Brome also had a hand in the modification of the post-Emancipation landscape in St. Mary’s County. Of particular note is his donation of a half acre of his property to create an African American schoolhouse. The land Brome donated was located far from the manor home, along Three Notch Road. Identifying the location of the school was made possible due to the clause that was included in the 1867 deed, stipulating that if the land was no longer being used as a schoolhouse that the trustees will make “total forfeiture of all title and claim to the above described premises” (St. Mary’s County Court, 1867) . This land appeared again in a land transfer in 1937 between Brome’s great-grandchildren and the Norris’s, stating that the land comprised “part of 152 the former estate of Dr. John M. Brome which in his lifetime he gave the use of to the County Board of Education for a public school upon the condition that when said land was abandoned for school puposes (sic) that the title to said land would revert to him and heirs” (St. Mary’s County Court, 1867). The 1937 deed provides more detailed information regarding the location of the 1/2 acre of land, including a description of its location on “Lot 44 as surveyed in the year 1910” (St. Mary’s County Court, 1867). The 1910 map of that survey indicates a 1/2 acre square taken out of the northwest corner of Lot 44, at the corner of Three Notch Road (Route 235) and Mattapany Road, representing the location of the schoolhouse. There is some indication that this schoolhouse may have been called Fairfield, a school which stood until the early 20th century, but who’s exact location has been forgotten. While no archaeological excavations or historical photos exist of the schoolhouse, most African American schools dating to the post-slavery era are similar in their design. For comparative purposes, the Drayden school, located in St. Mary’s County, represents a typical post-Civil War one-room schoolhouse. Drayden was erected circa 1890, but is representative of the type of conditions that students attending Fairfield would have encountered. Drayden was originally one large open room, standing 20 by 20 feet, with a chimney on the rear gable end. The door stood opposite the chimney, and each side wall had three glass windows to ensure the students had enough light to work. The building is a wood frame structure, erected on wood and cinder block foundations. It is likely that the Fairfield school had brick foundations or piers. However, the interior space would have been similar in shape and size. The schoolhouse was one example of a number of buildings designed for African American education and religious activity that emerged after Emancipation. These buildings began to emerge across the County landscape, and will be discussed in more depth in Chapter 10. The plantation and external plantation landscape at St. Mary’s City was a constantly changing space. From the 1830s into the 20th century, Brome, his descendants, and the people who lived and worked on and near his plantation made significant changes to the landscape. The plantation itself 153 emerged on the landscape during the 1840s and 50s, coinciding with Brome’s tenure as the owner. This was accompanied by a growing built landscape off the plantation, with the Trinity Church, Female Seminary, and Wharf complimenting and reflecting the remnants of the 17th century landscape that still remained on the landscape. The Civil War and Emancipation led to significant changes on the plantation landscape, as the former slave quarters began to disappear and Brome’s death and the subsequent sale of his lands in 1888 turned a large plantation into a small farm. The following chapters will examine the causes for these different transitions, and how they affected the lives and choices of the African Americans who lived and worked on the plantation. 154 CHAPTER 7 BROME’S PLANTATION Examining how John Brome used his plantation as a place of agricultural production and displaying his elite social status allows us to explain the changing landscape described in Chapter 6. Within this context power and control are central, particularly how Brome established, lost, and negotiated his power and control during slavery, the Civil War, and the post-slavery era. During these three periods, Brome built and modified a landscape that would ensure economic prosperity through agricultural pursuits, and would demonstrate his influence on the local landscape as a community leader. This section will examine his changing relationship with his agricultural labor force, and how these changes are manifest in the cultural landscape. It will also address how Brome used his plantation landscape as a performative space to demonstrate his power and prestige to his peers, and how he attempted to use that influence after the Civil War to better his local community. 7.1 The Slave Plantation: Power and Control, Prestige and Performance Brome’s enslaved landscape focused on two elements: his growth and maintenance of a profitable, large scale, agricultural slave plantation, and his use of that landscape to demonstrate and justify his prominent social position in St. Mary’s City. This section will address these two elements of the plantation, demonstrating how the plantation landscape reflected his plantation operations and his public persona. First, the landscape growth demonstrated in Chapter 6 will be examined in the context of Brome’s agricultural activities and his increasing slave labor force. Second, how Brome maintained control over his laborers to maximize his plantation’s output will be examined 155 on multiple scales, including the plantation scale, a focus on work areas such as the manor home, and also in ways that Brome worked with the external landscape to maintain a cultural landscape of slavery. Lastly, the plantation landscape will be examined in the context of performance, demonstrating how Brome used his plantation’s position at the location of Maryland’s founding to boost his prestige and establish his position as local community leader. 7.1.1 The Growing Plantation: Agriculture and the Slave Trade at St. Mary’s Manor A number of features examined in Chapter 6 demonstrate a growing plantation landscape during the 1840s and 1850s. Brome built his new plantation home in 1841, a relocation that started a large building campaign over the ensuing decades. Of particular notice in this period were the modifications made to the agricultural complex and the increasing number of slave quarters on the plantation. These changes in the landscape indicate that Brome was modifying his landscape to accommodate the production of labor intensive cash crops, a process that required slave labor. To understand the modern and growing plantation Brome developed during the 1840s and 1850s, and how he used that landscape to establish control of his labor and demonstrate his power to his peers, it is important to examine the plantation’s agricultural production and the strategies used to acquire and sell enslaved laborers. The archaeological and architectural evidence discussed in chapter 6 indicates that Brome was building a modern plantation supported by profits from the sale of cash crops. The presence of granaries and tobacco barns indicate his preference for cash crops, while the slave quarter row, gradually added on to through time, suggests that Brome’s efforts were increasing as the Civil War approached. Examining the historical documents provides additional insight into how Brome profited during the 1840s and 1850s agriculturally. They also give a deeper look into how Brome used his enslaved labor not only to work in the fields, but also a means of further diversifying his plantation’s output through his participation in the slave trade. The Agricultural Census from 1850 and 1860 and the architectural evidence from the agricultural complex provide evidence of the type of agricultural crops Brome grew at St. Mary’s Manor (Table 7.1). Understanding the type and quantity of production reveals how Brome supported him- 156 Agricultural Census Acres Improved Acres Unimproved Acres Farm Cash Value Machinery Value Orchard Products Value Horses Mules Milk Cows Oxen Other Cattle Sheep Swine Livestock Value Animals Slaughtered Value Wheat (Bushels) Corn (Bushels) Oats (Bushels) Tobacco (Bushels) Wool (Pounds) Peas/Beans (Bushels) Butter (Pounds) Hay (Tons) Irish Potatos (Bushels) Sweet Potatos (Bushels) Household Manufactures 1850 2100 600 1500 22000 700 n/a 18 0 12 12 30 60 100 2114 800 2700 2500 500 0 180 0 450 20 350 25 100 1860 1800 650 1150 50000 1500 50 16 7 15 14 30 70 125 5000 1100 3500 3000 200 40000 250 5 700 20 200 50 40 Table 7.1 Information from the 1850 and 1860 U.S. Agricultural Census regrading Dr. John Brome’s agricultural output self and his family and gives insight into the daily lives of his enslaved labor force. The changes manifest in the plantation landscape can be explained through the way that Brome’s agricultural pursuits evolved and grew over time. The United States Census did not begin collecting detailed information regarding agricultural production until 1850. Records of Brome’s agricultural output during the 1840s, therefore, are not available to study. In 1840, however, Brome would have still lived at St. Barbara’s, as his home was not completed until 1841. The 1840 U.S. Census indicates that Brome was heavily engaged in agriculture: of the 47 individuals living on his plantation, including enslaved and free blacks 157 and Brome’s family, 15 worked in agriculture (United States Census Bureau, 1840). During the 1840s, however, Brome’s plantation operations began to come together with the completion of his manor home, the addition of new slave quarters, and the construction of the Wharf. Brome also gained control of all his father’s plantation lands, 1,410 acres, which was valued in 1842 at $10,502 (Historic St. Mary’s City, unknown). The 1850 Agricultural Census provides the first glimpse into Brome’s agricultural pursuits (Table 7.1). His plantation was valued at $22,000, having doubled in value since 1842. He held 2,100 acres, 600 of which were used for farming. From that land, he produced 2,700 bushels of wheat, 2,500 bushels of corn and 500 bushels of oats. The farm also produced wool, Irish and sweet potatoes, butter, and hay. The livestock included 18 horses, 12 milk cows, 12 oxen, 30 cattle, 60 sheep, and 100 swine, $800 dollars of which were slaughtered that year (United States Census Bureau, 1850a). Brome also held 42 African Americans in bondage in 1850, 12 more than when he began operating the plantation (United States Census Bureau, 1850c). Brome avoided tobacco in 1850, a decision he shared with all but seven of the 82 farmers listed in the census that year (Historic St. Mary’s City, unknown). This suggests that the tobacco market may have been depressed in 1850, as many St. Mary’s farmers supplemented their wheat crops with tobacco whenever it was demanded by the markets (Marks, 1979). Because he operated a diverse yield, Brome maintained a profitable and successful plantation. Brome continued to prosper over the ensuing decade. By 1860, he sold a number of extant pieces of property during the 1850s that he had acquired by marriage, reducing the plantation to 1,800 acres. However, he increased the productivity of that land, placing 650 acres under the plow, and more than doubling the value of the plantation to $50,000. It is likely the money made from selling property went towards plantation improvements. Brome’s livestock showed a slight increase, including additional milk cows, oxen, sheep and swine, which doubled in value to $5,000. Similarly $1,100 worth of livestock were slaughtered, an increase of $300 (United States Census Bureau, 1860a). Agriculturally, Brome’s production increased: 3,500 bushels of wheat, 3,000 bushels of corn, 158 250 pounds of wool, and 700 pounds of butter all reflected significant increases since 1850, with oats (200 bushels) and Irish potatoes (200 bushels) the only crops that decreased. Brome produced 40,000 pounds of tobacco in 1860 (United States Census Bureau, 1860a). This not only represented a dramatic increase from 10 years prior, but a significant change in the First District: of 120 farms, 59 grew tobacco, accounting for 308,900 pounds of the leaf. Brome produced more than 10 percent of the tobacco grown, making him the largest contributor in the First District. To accompany the increase in agricultural production, Brome also increased his enslaved labor: in 1860, he enslaved 58 African Americans, an increase of 16 slaves from 1850 (United States Census Bureau, 1860c). This number increases to 62 when one considers his mother’s slaves, who also lived and worked on the property. By 1860, Brome had built St. Mary’s Manor into one of the largest and most profitable plantations in St. Mary’s County. Architectural analysis of one of the standing barns in the agricultural complex shows how Brome’s diversified agricultural yield affected the built landscape. Discussed in Chapter6, the Mackall Barn was converted in 1849 from a tobacco barn to a granary. This transition occurs just before the 1850 harvest, when Brome’s plantation produced 2,700 bushels of wheat, and no tobacco. The next major identifiable modification did not occur until 1900, but it is possible that a number of small modifications were made during the enslaved period to accommodate the fluctuating emphasis on tobacco production. The plantation landscape shows an increase in the number of slave quarters, showing at least seven slave components by 1860, and the potential for at least ten household units when duplexes and the loft above the Manor House kitchen are considered. The number of slave domestic components suggests Brome had a large and growing slave population, a hypothesis supported by the 1840 U.S. Census, the 1850 and 1860 slave schedules, and a document produced by Brome in 1867 of the slaves he lost during the Civil War (Table 7.1 and Figure 7.1). These data indicate that Brome’s enslaved labor force nearly doubled between 1840 and 1860 from 30 slaves to 59 during the Civil War. Additionally, Brome’s mother, Ann Ashcomb, owned four slaves in 1860 and six during the War. This explains the presence of a growing slave quarter row, demonstrated in chapter 159 Year under 10 1840 1850 1860 Civil War 8 8 13 16 1840 1850 1860 Civil War 4 2 7 2 1840 1850 1860 Civil War 12 10 20 18 10 - 23 24 - 35 Women 4 2 4 1 12 0 11 6 Men 3 2 10 4 6 10 7 7 Total 7 4 14 5 18 10 18 13 36 - 54 55 - 99 Total 2 4 3 0 1 2 0 3 17 19 28 36 3 5 2 4 1 2 5 3 13 23 30 23 5 9 5 4 2 4 5 6 30 42 58 59 Table 7.2 The enslaved population owned by John Brome from 1840 through the Civil War. 6, and the construction of efficient forms of housing such as duplex quarters. Brome’s growing slave population is unexpected considering the trend, studied by historian Barbara Fields, of Maryland slave owners dramatically downsizing their slave holdings between 1790 and 1850 (Fields, 1985). However, when compared to the demographic shifts on a finer temporal and regional scale, Brome’s efforts to increase his participation in the slave trade coincides with trends in St. Mary’s County. Fields reports that St. Mary’s County lost 1,143 slaves, while the State of Maryland lost slaves at an even higher rate, totaling 12,668 slaves lost from 1790 to 1850. Including 1860 data indicates greater losses for Maryland as a whole, but a significant gain in St. Mary’s County: slaveowners purchased 707 more slaves during that decade, an increase of 12.10 percent, while Maryland lost 3,179 slaves between 1850 and 1860, at a rate of 3.52 percent. In fact, beginning in 1840, St. Mary’s County slaveowners added 788 slaves to the population, an increase of 13.7 percent. During that same period, Maryland lost slaves at a rate of 2.58 percent. This trend indicates Brome and his peers were making significant investments in agriculture and in the financial benefits of owning slaves, despite their increasing reliance on wheat. Further, Brome and his fellow slaveowners continued to grow tobacco depending on the demand, a crop that required 160 more labor. Figure 7.1 Slave growth over time and divided by gender. It is possible that this increase in labor resulted from federal support of slavery. The Fugitive Slave Act passed in 1850, perhaps resulting in increased support and security in purchasing slaves for Brome and his fellow slaveowners. Fields’ analysis ends in 1850, not taking into account the surge in slave population growth during the final decade before the Civil War. For Brome specifically, other factors played into his need for more laborers. First, Brome’s agricultural output was increasing: his output in 1860 surpassed 1850 in the major staple crops of wheat and tobacco. The increasing value of his plantation from 1840 to 1860, the new manor home and slave quarters, and the modifications to the agricultural complex all required enslaved labor to complete and maintain. Evidence of land modifications near St. Inigoes Creek to improve 161 drainage exemplifies Brome’s need for extant labor on his plantation (Miller, 2013). He would have also required artisan slaves to work a variety of tasks, such as blacksmithing. Brome’s Wharf would have necessitated enslaved labor to load and unload steamships and carry out other tasks. Similarly, the new Manor Home and Brome’s growing family required more enslaved laborers to carry out domestic tasks such as cooking, cleaning, and child rearing. Brome’s increasing social status dictated he have a full staff of domestic slaves to attend to guests and ensure his home operated efficiently and in a manner becoming a community leader. While Maryland as a whole decreased the number of enslaved through much of the 19th century, Brome’s growing estate, his adherence to the values of the plantation elite, and the security afforded by the Fugitive Slave Act, meant that he and others in St. Mary’s County continued to grow their populations. Slaveowners used the slave trade, natural increase, and marriage as means of expanding their enslaved property. Brome used all three of these strategies. His marriage to Susannah Bennett would have included a number of enslaved laborers. In 1831, Susannah inherited her share of her father’s property, who had been a successful merchant in the County, as well as her brother’s share. It is likely that a number of her father and brother’s slaves, as well as any children they bore over the course of the decade, came with her to St. Mary’s Manor when she married Brome in 1841. Although some of them may have passed away by the time the 1850 census was taken, others may have had children, contributing to the increase in Brome’s enslaved labor force. Brome also used natural increase to gain enslaved laborers, a popular strategy employed by slaveowners because it did not require purchasing new laborers. Instead, slave owners could use the women they already owned to produce children born as slaves. This approach became particularly popular following the abolition of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade in 1808, when the purchase of slaves became more difficult and the popularity of owning female slaves increased. Archaeologists have demonstrated a change in the plantation landscape due to this strategy. Slaveowners moved away from barrack-style slave quarters, where the predominately male slaves would be housed in a few large quarters (Neiman, 2008). Although Brome’s plantation was established well after this transition, the duplex and single quarters on his plantation were designed to house families and 162 encourage natural increase. Figure 7.2 Enslaved women by age over time. The use of natural increase is particularly evident in the historical record. The presence of infants and women of childbearing age indicate Brome’s use of this strategy. In 1840, Brome had 12 children on the property, accounting for 40 percent of his enslaved population (Table 7.1). A decade later, 14 individuals aged 10-23 were recorded, doubling the amount of individuals of that age in 1840. In 1850, Brome enslaved 10 children, despite having no women between the ages of 17 and 34. However, eight of those children under 10 were girls, and the four women listed between 10 and 23 were under 17 years old. By 1860, these women were all having children, giving birth to at least 20 over the preceding decade. In each ensuing decade, Brome’s use of natural increase as a strategy contributed to the increase of prime-aged slaves, considered here to be between the ages of 10 and 35. By the time of the Civil War, 31 of his slaves were within these 163 age groups, almost tripling the total from 1840 (Table 7.1 and Figure 7.1). Natural increase does not explain all of the growth of Brome’s enslaved population, or how his slaves were leaving the plantation. This indicates that Brome was active in the domestic slave trade. Comparing the ages of individuals between the 1850 and 1860 slave schedules identifies whom and how many individuals left or were added to the plantation through time, which should demonstrate how active Brome was in the slave trade, and to what purposes it served his plantation. Because the slave trade is not the only means by which slaves entered or exited the plantation, this analysis will also consider the potential impact of birth, death, slave hiring, and escape. Running away is also a possible conclusion to draw, although only one runaway ad published by Brome in local newspapers indicate that few slaves escaped. With these limitations in mind, it is still possible to gauge Brome’s level of activity in the slave trade. During the 1850s that decade, 21 slaves left or were removed from the plantation (Table 7.1). Of those individuals, three were over the age of 65, and likely died. The largest demographic to leave the plantation were men between the ages of 10 and 35. Of the 15 men in this group, only one was younger than 20 and four were 21 in 1850. The youngest demographic to leave the plantation were women between the ages of 10 and 35: only one woman, aged 16, was no longer on the plantation during this period. Three other women, ages 45, 45, and 50, also left the plantation. In total, the demographic least likely to succumb to death due to natural causes or child birth, men between the ages of 20 and 35, accounted for 43 percent of the slaves who left the plantation between 1850 and 1860. Thirty-six slaves were added to the plantation between 1850 and 1860 (Table 7.3). New children accounted for 56 percent (n=20) of these additions, likely due to natural increase. Only two individuals over the age of 35, a man and woman each 50 years old, were added. Men between 10 and 35 accounted for the highest increase, adding 15 individuals to the plantation, averaging 21 years of age. Four women, two 20 year olds, one 22 year old, and one 23 year old, were also added to the plantation. These numbers indicate that women between the ages of 10 and 35 were of immense value to 164 Year under 10 Left 3 33.33% 13 72.22% Added Left Added Left Added 1 9.09% 7 38.89% 4 20.00% 20 55.56% 11 - 23 24 - 35 36 - 54 55 - 99 Total Women 1 0 3 2 9 11.11% 0.00% 33.33% 22.22% 100.00% 4 0 1 0 18 22.22% 0.00% 5.56% 0.00% 100.00% Men 5 3 1 1 11 45.45% 27.27% 9.09% 9.09% 100.00% 5 5 1 0 18 27.78% 27.78% 5.56% 0.00% 100.00% Total 6 3 4 3 20 30.00% 15.00% 20.00% 15.00% 100.00% 9 5 2 0 36 25.00% 13.89% 5.56% 0.00% 100.00% Table 7.3 The number of slaves who left and were added between the year of 1850 and 1860 by age and gender. Brome. He only lost one of the five he had on the plantation in 1850, and added four more through means other than natural increase, meaning that by 1860, 12 women between the ages of 15 and 23 lived on his plantation. Producing enslaved children was an essential means of building Brome’s labor force, and he was willing to participate in the slave trade to acquire women who could bear children. These data also suggest that men between the ages of 10 and 35 were also relatively expendable. Between 1850 and 1860, 25 men this age were either added to or removed from the plantation, accounting for 86 percent of the individuals ages 10 and over who were relocated during the 1850s. It is clear that Brome relied on these men as a large percentage of his male labor force: Brome had 19 men between 10 and 35 on his plantation in 1850, and 10 of them left the plantation over the next decade. Of the 28 men between 10 and 25 on his plantation in 1860, 15 of them had been added in the previous decade. It also important to note that Brome maintained a constant number of enslaved men between the ages of 10 and 35 in 1850 and 1860, suggesting that this demographic was important to the plantation’s success (Figure 7.3). This could reflect Brome’s participation in the slave trade as an active buyer and seller of farm laborers, or it could reflect his use of slave 165 Figure 7.3 Enslaved men by age over time. renting as a means of ensuring that he had enough male field laborers for each year’s harvest. Determining if these slaves were acquired through Brome’s participation in the slave trade or his renting of slaves from other plantations depends on whether the slave schedules reflect those he owned or those who lived on his plantation. The 1867 slave list reflects Brome’s actual enslaved property because he submitted the list to the State of Maryland to receive compensation for the slaves he lost during the Civil War. Comparing the age and gender demographics on this list to the 1860 slave schedules shows they are almost identical. The majority of the differences were due to births or individuals moving into a new age bracket. Unfortunately, it is difficult to do an exact comparison as was done between 1850 and 1860, because the 1867 list includes individuals from the period covering the entire Civil War; their ages could be related to the slaves age in any year between 1861 and 1864. Nonetheless, because the slave schedules reflect the slaves that Brome 166 owned, the regular addition and subtraction of men between the ages of 10 and 35 throughout the 1850s indicates that Brome was an active buyer and seller of enslaved persons. As a buyer, Brome used the slave trade to add enslaved property that he was not producing through natural increase. For example, in 1850 he did not own any women between the age of 17 and 34. In 1860, he had 13 women between 15 and 23, four of whom he added through purchase. All of these women were the oldest listed (20, 20, 22, and 23), indicating that he purchased them with the intent to begin breeding slaves. Brome’s strategy for buying and selling male laborers is more difficult to understand. Men between 10 and 35 would have been the most valuable in terms of field labor. Of the 14 men in that age group in 1850, Brome kept six, all except for one under the age of 21. The men who left aged between 21 and 30, with the oldest being 35. What is most striking is the consistent holding of a group of men of the same age: in 1850, Brome had seven men who were 20 or 21 years old. In 1860, he had five men who were 25 years old. It is possible that Brome made an effort to maintain a core group of individuals who were within the age of 20-25 years old, replacing them as they grew too old to effectively work in the fields. Considering the high demand for male enslaved field laborers on the national market, Brome may have regularly sold male slaves in their late and early twenties, while continuing to replace them with younger slaves. While he would have regularly taken a loss, this strategy would have been more cost efficient, and kept his enslaved labor force younger. The expense of keeping enslaved men well past their prime would have cost Brome more in their care and in crop efficiency, and this would have been particularly risky considering Brome’s diverse crop yield: some years would have required more labor then others, and participating in the slave trade meant he could increase or decrease the laborers he had on hand without losing their value. Instead, he sold them while they still had utility and replaced them with younger laborers. This effort makes sense when one considers Brome’s position within the geography of the slave trade. St. Mary’s County sat between areas in Maryland that were actively selling their enslaved labor. Counties to the north and on the Eastern Shore were reducing their slaveholdings throughout these decades, while planters in St. Mary’s County were increasing their holdings. These slaves 167 were transported to Washington and Richmond, where they were sold to planters in the Deep South. Brome’s position along the steamboat path placed him on the main transportation routes between Baltimore and Washington, where he could easily buy and sell enslaved laborers. The value of enslaved labor is shown through the increased acreage Brome had under till in 1860, and the corresponding increase in tobacco and wheat production. By enslaving more laborers, Brome was able to grow more crops, further diversify his production, and make more profit. While planters further north had abandoned tobacco due to the toll it wrought on the soils, in Southern Maryland the leaf continued to grow well. The stable price of wheat allowed wealthy planters like Brome to produce tobacco in large quantities when it was economically profitable, but not to rely solely on the crop. This allowed him to increase their wealth at a faster rate, while tobacco provided periodic boosts depending on its market value. As for his reliance on slave labor, the wheat prices were high enough before 1840 for Brome to continue owning slaves. Slave hiring and renting was used regularly to ensure plantations’ profitability when they were not needed to work the tobacco fields, but more than paid for themselves when Brome decided to grow tobacco (Marks, 1979, p. 101, 657-658). By ensuring that he had no excess slave laborers by selling his male field slaves before they passed their prime, Brome kept his expenses in enslaved labor in check. Maintaining a steady profit through wheat and increased profits through periodic investments in tobacco and renting their enslaved labor force during periods where the labor was unnecessary allowed Brome and other planters in St. Mary’s City to make improvements to their manor homes, agricultural buildings and slave quarters, and participate in the slave trade. By also participating in the slave trade as a seller, Brome was able to further supplement his income, make significant improvements to his property, increase his labor force as a buyer, increase his agricultural output, and position himself as an economic force in the region. The plantation landscape at St. Mary’s Manor reflects the type of agriculture production and social status commensurate with a wealthy plantation in Southern Maryland during the 1840s, 50s, and 60s. Brome’s diversified agricultural production, his increasing wealth and prosperity, and his growing slave holdings all correspond to the larger patterns of wealthy plantations in St. 168 Mary’s County. Brome’s participation in a diversified economy fits within the strategy used by most planters in St. Mary’s County: to produce wheat every year, and take advantage of spikes in the tobacco market. It is also worth noting that Brome’s economic activities extended beyond participation in crop production. He further diversified his economic interests by selling land between 1850 and 1860 and participating in the domestic slave trade as a buyer and seller. Brome’s use of his marriage, the natural increase of his enslaved labor, and his buying and selling of slaves contributed to his economic prosperity, increased his enslaved workforce in efficient ways, and allowed him to make significant improvements to his property, quintupling his plantation’s value in 20 years. 7.1.2 A Landscape of Control Maintaining a large slave force and extensive agricultural production required a management strategy, particularly when parts of that force were regularly sold. The plantation landscape was a critical element of that strategy, and Brome made choices about the location of the built environment to maximize the efficiency of his laborers and to maintain control over the actions. The landscape was particularly important in this regard since Brome had to maintain a certain distance from his slaves for social reasons, but also needed to maintain enough proximity to ensure that they stayed on task and did not runaway. This control can be examined on three different scales: first, the plantation proper can examine the relationship between the manor home, quarters, and agricultural buildings and their role in surveillance and efficiency. Second, the manor home will be examined as an area where the Brome’s and domestic slaves lived and worked in close quarters, requiring the delicate negotiation of space. Finally, Brome’s reliance on the external landscape is a critical element of establishing a broader landscape of control, that supported slavery regionally. 7.1.2.1 The Plantation Proper Three components were critical to the control and efficient use of space on the enslaved plantation. First, planters often employed overseers or slave drivers in order to maintain control over 169 slaves while they worked in the fields, to enforce rules and carry out punishment among slaves who broke them. Second, planters organized their plantations to reflect and create a social order, by placing manor homes in prominent, visible locations on the landscape and slave quarters in subordinate locations. This positioning simultaneously presented the planter as having power, while also reflecting the lower status of the enslaved laborer (Lewis, 1985; Epperson, 1999). This was highlighted by also placing quarters in environments that were less desirable, such as near swamps or flooded land. Planters also created divisions among the enslaved community by placing slaves close to their areas of work, separating field, artisan, and domestic slaves. On large plantations, this meant separating domestic slaves from field slaves, as agricultural activities were often located at some distance from the manor home. This reorganization encouraged efficiency, since slaves were close to the place they worked and planters could treat their slaves differently based on their occupations. Archaeologists have identified a dramatic difference in the quality of goods and living conditions at domestic and field slave sites (Orser Jr, 1988b). The third component of control is the placement of enslaved quarters and places of work in relationship to white centers of control, be it the home of the planter or overseer. Slave buildings were placed in close proximity to these structures to increase surveillance and to reflect social and class differences. James Delle’s work on Jamaican coffee plantations has identified these landscapes of control, showing quarters and coffee production sites placed within site of the planter home and overseer house(Delle, 1998, 2000). By examining the alignment of Brome’s built environment on his plantation, it is possible to test these three means of controlling the plantation. Evidence of Brome’s employment of an overseer is limited, both historically and archaeologically. The 1850 census lists Samuel Booth, a 51 year old “Manager” living in the house enumerated prior to Brome’s, indicating a possible overseer or plantation manager (United States Census Bureau, 1850b). Considering Brome’s growing plantation size, and his increasing role in areas outside the plantation during the 1850s, having a plantation manager to oversee the day-to-day operations of the plantation would have increased his plantation’s productivity, and provided extra hands for controlling the plantation landscape. Archaeological surface collection does indicate the 170 Figure 7.4 The plantation landscape in 1860, showing the placement of the slave quarters in relation to the manor home and agricultural buildings. presence of a possible domestic structure located to the east of the agricultural complex, although the signature is scarce (Miller et al., 2006), an ideal position for an overseer house permitting easy access to the slave quarter row and agricultural buildings. While evidence of an overseer is limited, the likelihood of Brome’s employing one is likely, considering the size of his plantation and his responsibilities outside of running his plantation. It is also possible that Brome placed one of his enslaved laborers in this position, a common occurrence that would have kept such an individual off the census records. The layout of buildings shows that Brome recreated the social order through the location of his manor home, agricultural structures, and slave quarters, and reinforced that hierarchy through the environmental conditions at each location. Brome’s manor home occupied a prominent location 171 on the landscape, serving as an entry point for visitors by land and water (Figure 7.4). The manor home was the most visible element on the plantation to members of the public and those who visited St. Mary’s City to the West, sitting along the bluff of the riverbank. Archaeological evidence indicates that Brome modified the riverbank to provide a more prominent view of the river, and from the river of his house. The teardrop shaped driveway served a similar function, providing the only access to the plantation and emphasizing the size and grandeur of his manor home. By contrast, the slave quarters occupied a position to the rear of the landscape on the other side of a deep ravine that physically divided the quarters from the manor home (Figure 7.4). The quarter row extended eastward behind the agricultural complex, further associating slaves with the farm equipment and animals. The quarters also ran along the Key Swamp, some of the least desirable land on the landscape. By locating the slave quarters along the Swamp, Brome reduced the quality of living for the laborers, while reserving the better locations for himself and his crops. This was common practice for slaveholders and was practiced by other slaveowners in St. Mary’s County. At Sotterley Plantation, slave quarters were placed along a ravine, and slaves were forced to modify their quarters to control erosion and water runoff by digging ditches along the building foundations and burying oyster shells to improve drainage (Neuwirth, 1996). The historical and archaeological evidence at St. Mary’s Manor does not indicate that Brome created a distinct physical division between his domestic and field slaves through spatial alignment, as identified on other plantations with large slaveholdings. The structures in Brome’s slave quarter row are evenly distributed across the landscape. He did, however, ensure that his domestic and field slaves were in close proximity to their areas of work: both the manor home and the agricultural complex were located on opposite ends of the slave quarter row, with the possible overseer house located between the two areas. In doing so, Brome capitalized on the public display of his slaveholdings and agricultural prowess. His slave quarters, while distant, were still visible to visitors, and keeping them close to his manor home displayed his wealth and status. He also reduced his reliance on a staff of middle managers: by housing his slaves in one location, he needed fewer overseers to monitor the activities on the plantation. 172 This alignment also increased effectiveness of surveillance of his enslaved laborers. The possible location of the overseer house next to the agricultural complex ensured that the slave quarters were within sight day and night. Their location to the rear of the plantation also made accessing the more public areas of the plantation such as the roads and St. Mary’s City more difficult. Examining the sight lines from Brome’s manor home and the overseer house reveals that Brome could easily see his laborers throughout the day. Brome tightly controlled the plantation landscape through the placement of his agricultural buildings, adopting modern landscape techniques used by plantation owners throughout the South. While he decided to keep his field and domestic slaves in the same physical location, this was likely due to his efforts to present himself to the public as a powerful member of the community, and also to ensure the surveillance of his plantation by fewer individuals. It also kept his laborers in proximity to an agricultural complex that already existed before he reoriented his plantation along the river. Building new barns to divide his laborers would have been an added expense, decreasing efficiency of his plantation operations. Keeping his built environment confined to one gave Brome more control over his laborers and agricultural operations. 7.1.2.2 Inside the Manor Home Brome and his wife also controlled access to space within the places enslaved laborers worked. The manor home was one space where slaves and their owners worked and lived in close proximity to each other. This created a tense and vulnerable living arrangement for the family and the enslaved laborers. Therefore, the space of the manor home had to be designed and used in a way that promoted close surveillance of enslaved laborers, while also affording adequate separation and division between the family and their slaves. While Brome had opinions, his wife Susannah, with likely assistance from his mother, Ann Ashcomb, oversaw the day-to-day operations of the household (Glymph, 2008). The manor home was also a place of bondage: there were a number of spaces within and surrounding the home where enslaved blacks worked and lived. The design of the house, and the allocation of certain 173 spaces in the house, ensured that separation and control were maintained. Figure 7.5 The first floor of the manor home, showing its architectural features in 1993. Susannah Brome maintained tight control over her domestic laborers by keeping their work activities close to the manor home. St. Mary’s Manor had an attached kitchen, which meant that the cook’s activities were easily monitored (Figure 7.5). Archaeologists have noted that separate kitchens, such as at the Hermitage, afforded enslaved cooks more autonomy, and kitchens became social spaces for the African American community (Battle-Baptiste, 2011). While an attached kitchen may have not kept the space from being the domain of the enslaved cook, it did keep her work and the activities that happened in the kitchen in closer proximity to Mrs. Brome. The addition of a loft-space above the kitchen, where the cook and other domestic slaves likely slept, added a similar level of control. By keeping some slaves in the household at all times, Mrs. Brome was able to not only control the space that they occupied, but also the time that they had to 174 themselves. For those who lived in the quarters, there was slightly more autonomy, whereas those who lived in the Manor House had less time to themselves. This epitomized the compromising position of domestic slaves, who were in such close proximity to owners for long periods of time that their lives were more restricted. Fitts notes this type of control in northern homes, where many slaves lived in the same home as their owners, greatly reducing their autonomy due to their proximity (Fitts, 1996). This proximity required white and black spaces to be kept separate to emphasize the differences in social status and maintain the hierarchy of the house. The house itself was segregated based on the activities that took place and who conducted those activities. This segregation divided the lower floor of the home into two halves: a working space and social space. The working space included areas where enslaved black domestic servants worked outside of the view of their owners, in particular the kitchen and loft area. The social spaces included the entryway, double foyer, and the front and rear porch. The dining room was situated in between the foyers and kitchen, a practical dividing room considering it was a social and working space. Prior to and after meals, the dining room was a place of work, while during meals it was a social space for the family or guests. Placing the dining room in the middle of the home ensured that it could be closed off when work was being completed. In addition to the dining room, foyer doors were used to close off rooms. This separation allowed enslaved laborers to access parts of the house without interfering in Brome family or social lives. The service stair, located between the dining room and foyers, provided access to the upper floors so domestic slaves could use these work spaces without passing through public areas. When enslaved laborers did have to enter a room to serve food or carry out other tasks, they were immediately under the surveillance of the Bromes. By controlling and segregating the space within the house, the Bromes maintained strict control over the social hierarchy within the manor home. This division carried into the yardspace. Miller identified archaeological distributions of 19th and 20th century ceramics and bottle glass surrounding the manor home. They show heavy concentrations in the eastern yardspace, outside of the kitchen and surrounding the outbuildings (Fig- 175 Figure 7.6 Distribution of 19th century bottle glass and ceramics via (Miller et al., 2006). ure 7.6). This constituted the work yard, where Blacks carried out activities for the household such as washing, laundry, and refuse disposal (Vlach, 1993). The archaeological distribution contrasts with the areas behind, in front of, and to the west of the manor home, where almost no ceramics or bottle glass were present. This indicates that these areas were kept clean and pristine, likely as entertaining areas meant for displaying the social status of the Bromes to their guests. A photograph from 1892 shows a party being held on the rear porch and in the yardscape (Figure 7.7) These spaces also occupied the same side of the home as the interior social spaces, such as the foyer and double parlor. The house and yard, therefore, were divided along a central axis, with work/black/enslaved spaces on the eastern side of the building, and social/white/free spaces on the western side. Establishing this division within the manor house allowed the Bromes to maintain and display a social division between themselves and their slaves. The plantation landscape at St. Mary’s Manor was designed to maximize the production of agricultural crops and to establish an elite household. Because Brome owned enslaved African Americans to conduct the labor activities on the plantation, he manipulated the space on the land- 176 Figure 7.7 A party in 1892 after the dedication of the Calvert Memorial shows the water-side of the Brome residence. scape and within the manor home to ensure that he was able to control the time and space that these laborers occupied. By ensuring that their day-to-day activities were controlled spatially, Brome was able to reduce the opportunity for resistance. Brome’s power and control extended outside the plantation, where he used his plantation landscape, and his enslaved laborers position on that landscape, as a performative tool to demonstrate social status to his peers. By demonstrating his power over his slaves and property to his peers, he was able to gain the social capital necessary to become a powerful and influential member of his community. 177 7.1.3 Off the Plantation: Maintaining a Slave Society Maintaining a slave society was not regulated to the plantation: it also required the cooperation of slave and land owners throughout St. Mary’s County and the rest of the United States. As a member of the slaveholding social elite, Brome had a responsibility to maintain and participate in a pro-slavery landscape that extended beyond his own plantation. This was critical to the stability of slavery, since it reduced the ability for slaves to runaway, lowered the effect that free blacks and abolitionists had on enslaved laborers, and maintained the legality of slavery. Brome’s participation in local organizations such as his church, the Female Seminary, and his extensive connections within the slaveholding community provided numerous opportunities to extend the social structure of enslavement beyond the boundaries of the plantation. Building a strong social network and controlling the access that enslaved blacks had to spaces outside the plantation insured that the cultural landscape of St. Mary’s County continued to support the pro-slavery hegemonic society. An example of this inter-plantation cooperation is demonstrated through an event that occurred during Brome’s childhood. A slave revolt at a St. Inigoes store resulted in plantation owners, including Brome’s father, James, working together to establish the cause of the revolt. James Brome and his neighbors conducted questioning and interrogation with their slaves and other people’s slaves from various plantations, working together to determine the cause of the revolt and root out its facilitators (Neuwirth, 1996). This type of cooperation reestablished control over the inter-plantation landscape, and allowed Brome and his peers to maintain control over their slaves. Another way that Brome and his peers communicated about slavery was through the local newspaper. Newspapers provided a means throughout America’s history to serve as a means of establishing an imagined community where social concepts and ideas were shared by individuals who were otherwise separated geographically (Anderson, 2006). In the instance of St. Mary’s County, the St. Mary’s Beacon not only provided information about news, but also supported the opinions and interest of the slave owning class, a fact demonstrated by it being shutdown during the Civil War by the Union Army (Hammett, 1977). One way the paper supported the slave landscape was by posting slave runaway ads, with the expectation that readers of the publication would aid 178 in the capture and return of the property to their masters. Brome posted one advertisement in this paper for a runaway. The advertisement was for William Washington Walton, who’s wife, Brome stated, lived at “Mrs. W. L. Biscoe’s in the Factory District, in this county” (Brome, 1861). The advertisement worked. Brome listed Walton on the 1867 List, indicating that he had been returned to the plantation (Dent, 1867). The newspaper, as a tool for the elite slaveowning class to communicate with each other and maintain control over the larger cultural landscape, played a critical role in the capture and return of Walton to St. Mary’s Manor. The Beacon, therefore, allowed members of the slaveholding elite to establish and maintain pro-slavery sentiment across the cultural landscape of St. Mary’s County. This made the newspaper one of the most important elements of communication in the County. The Trinity Church also served as a space where the hegemony of slavery was maintained. The Church served as a weekly meeting place for the local elite, meaning that Brome was able to socialize and form ties with other members of the community each Sunday. The Church supported the institution of slavery, as was made evident by the refusal of the Union Army to allow the Church’s priest to attend to prisoners at Point Lookout Prison during the Civil War due to his pro-slavery sentiments (Trinity Church, 1992b). Brome and his fellow parishioners also took their slaves to Trinity, where they were preached to about the importance of slavery. Slaves were kept in balconies, which existed in the original church, which had originally been two stories tall. By controlling the space within the church, white parishioners established a religious hierarchy, emphasized by the incorporation of pro-slavery sermons. By tying his plantation landscape to the larger cultural landscape, Brome was establishing a link between his practice of control and slavery to a larger social structure that supported slavery. In doing so, Brome worked with his peers to maintain a cultural hegemony of control, allowing his reach to extend beyond his plantation. This type of activity was no different then the political debates and legislation established on the national level during the 1840s and 50s. The Fugitive Slave Act of 1850, for example, allowed Brome and fellow slaveowners to extend their reach beyond the boundaries of their communities and into neighboring states, while the debates about 179 slavery and westward expansion also dealt with these concepts, as slaveowners viewed this process as a threat to their hegemonic power. These topics were regularly discussed in the Beacon, and were likely part of the conversations between Brome and his peers at Trinity Church and with his guests at his manor home. 7.2 The Performative Landscape: Building on the Past One of the roles of a plantation landscape was not only to control enslaved laborers, but also to demonstrate the plantation owner’s social status to his peers. This has been examined on plantations throughout the American South, where plantation owners would use the architecture and landscape to demonstrate their wealth and status. Archaeologists have been particularly interested with how formal gardens were used to demonstrate this wealth and their control of nature (Sanford, 1990; Luccketti, 1990). This type of landscape modification, using geometric design to make the landscape look distinctive or more grand, was in use during the 19th century and in St. Mary’s County: the mile long tree lines at Mulberry Fields providing the most dramatic example of distorting the landscape to make the river appear closer to the manor home (Forman, 1956). These landscapes, in this sense, were performative, in that they were designed intentionally to present a specific representation of the plantation owner and his family to the public. In this case, Brome established himself as a member of the slaveholding elite by demonstrating his financial wealth, his vast land and slaveholdings, and his understanding of the social order. His plantation landscape, and the objects used on that landscape, demonstrated these values to visitors. 7.2.1 The Manor Home The location of the manor house provided the first experience. Brome’s modification to the riverbank (Miller, 1983), increased the visibility of his manor home from approaching ships. An image from 1934 shows an aerial perspective from the St. Mary’s River, demonstrating the prominence of Brome’s home on the riverbank (Figure 7.8). It would have been one of the first buildings vis- 180 Figure 7.8 A photo from 1934 shows the visibility of the manor home from approaching ships. ible to visitors to St. Mary’s City, an experience emphasized when the reached Brome’s Wharf, another demonstration of his power over the landscape. Brome’s manor home would have been visible from St. Mary’s City, a continued reminder of his presence as a part of the Trinity Church and Female Seminary. Approaching Brome’s house from the land had a similar effect. The teardrop driveway made Brome’s house appear larger then in reality, aided by the telescoping design. The modern design of the Greek Revival home demonstrated Brome’s wealth. Visible in the distance were Brome’s agricultural buildings, demonstrating his position as a wealthy planter. Even more valuable was the row of slave quarters, also within sight, particularly when smoke escaped the chimneys. The number of quarters would immediately indicate Brome’s substantial slaveholdings. He was one of only eight slaveowners in St. Mary’s County with more than 50 enslaved laborers, and the number of quarters was the physical manifestation of the wealth and power required to purchase and manage that many slaves (United States Census Bureau, 1860b). 181 Brome also used this landscape to demonstrate his understanding of the social order, and his ability to “speak” the language of the social elite. The presence of a formal garden to the western edge of the manor substantiate his fluency. Countless archaeologists have connected the role of the formal garden to the social elites’ demonstration their control of nature (Leone, 1984; Luccketti, 1990; Sanford, 1990). More evident was Brome’s controlled plantation landscape and his positioning of his enslaved laborers in relationship to his manor home. The slave quarters were placed in the rear of the landscape, while his manor home sat prominently in the front. This reflected an understanding of the social and racial hierarchy of 19th-century America, and displayed Brome’s understanding, participation in, and approval of this social structure. The performance continued inside the manor home. It was here that Brome’s wife, Susannah, was responsible for demonstrating her household’s adherence to the ideals of 19th-century domesticity. As Thavolia Glymph notes, a mistress “was judged by [her] capacity to meet [the] evolving standards” of these ideals (Glymph, 2008). This required a clean house, linens, and furniture, and timely and well-prepared meals. It also required a house furnished and decorated in contemporary style. The process of receiving and entertaining guests included specific rules regarding the location of activities, the serving of food, and appropriate table etiquette. It also required the proper management and separation of the domestic slaves from these activities: their physical appearance, uniforms, and their ability to cook, clean, and serve were all part of the performance of domesticity, and reflected Mrs. Brome’s ability to run an ordered and appropriate household. The irony of the entire system, of course, was that Mrs. Brome relied almost entirely on her domestic slaves, and their constant attention and presence, to accomplish this performance. The division between free and enslaved spaces within the manor home emphasized Mrs. Brome’s adherence to the ideals of domesticity and the Brome family’s understanding of the social order. Separating the enslaved laborers spatially from the activities of the Brome’s and their guests presented a tightly controlled, well-ordered household. The inclusion of doorways also meant that the domestic slaves could be seen only when necessary, and, hopefully for Mrs. Brome, when performing the necessary tasks conforming to the ideals of the time. By creating a household that 182 alienated and “othered” enslaved laborers, the Brome’s were able to demonstrate their possession and control of their enslaved labor, while also presenting a domesticated 19th-century household. 7.2.2 The Memorial Landscape Brome also used his performative landscape to justify his self-appointed position as a caretaker for Maryland’s founding, a connection that heightened his social status and prestige among his peers. He carefully designed his plantation landscape as part of St. Mary’s City’s emerging memorial landscape, himself to the social elites who founded the colony in 1634. To do this, Brome incorporated himself and his new plantation into the various activities and memorializations of this story that occurred from late 1830s to the 1850s. By examining the plantation and memorial landscape together, and exploring the way that Brome emphasized the past through material objects in his home, the connections between the past and present landscapes is evident. The performative landscape, which demonstrated his social elite status was critical to this effort, as it positioned him as the natural successor to the elites who settled the colony. By integrating his landscape within 17th century memorial landscape, Brome positioned himself as the caretaker of the colonial story, and a product of the values embedded in that founding. To examine how he incorporated his plantation landscape into the local, memorialized landscape, the 17th century landscape must be understood, in addition to the role that memorialization played in the second quarter of the 19th century in the United States and in St. Mary’s County, Maryland. This period in American history marked the latter years of the Revolutionary War generation, and many individuals were beginning to examine the purpose and meaning of what their generation had accomplished. This sense of purpose was fueled by westward expansion, prompting Americans to begin examining the earliest European colonists as a means of justifying their expansion as part of Manifest Destiny. The United States of America represented a divine purpose to spread concepts of democracy and christianity to other parts of the world. This enthusiasm reached St. Mary’s City during the 1830s, when John Brome was young man, and it was during his young adult life and the first few decades of his ownership of St. Mary’s Manor that the local landscape 183 of St. Mary’s City became a memorialized space, as discussed in the previous chapter. Despite the local knowledge about St. Mary’s City, it was not until the 1830s, when the young country began to revisit its colonial past, that people from outside the local area developed an interest in the site’s historical significance. In 1836, U.S. Congressman and author John P. Kennedy visited St. Mary’s County to conduct research for his novel, Rob of the Bowl (King, 2012). Published in 1838, the book was based on documents Kennedy had discovered that detailed the activities of the 17th-century legislature. While Rob of the Bowl was fiction, Kennedy attempted to ground it in his interpretations of these documents, the important individuals of the time, and his impressions of the physical landscape of St. Mary’s City. He begins the novel with a discussion of the colonial landscape, and is the first to “create St. Mary’s City as a historical place” (King, 2012, p. 64, emphasis added). Kennedy’s purpose in writing the book was more than simply sharing the colonial history of the space, but instead to celebrate a time when, “Maryland is successfully and happily governed by aristocratic cavaliers who understand their social and political responsibilities and the threat an ’unruly mob’ poses to social stability” (King, 2012, p. 61). Kennedy’s novel was a celebration of the nationalistic spirit of America, and the intrinsic value of the socially elite, aristocratic men who set the course for the 19th-century’s contemporary American values. Kennedy’s book, and the subsequent interest in St. Mary’s City as a historical place, sparked efforts to memorialize the location. Three delegates from St. Mary’s County, Colonel William R. Coad, Colonel James T. Blackinstone, and Dr. Joseph F. Shaw, used the momentum generated by Kennedy’s novel to invigorate the state legislature into action, and drew attention to the often neglected County. Their proposal to the Assembly was for a state-owned female seminary built on the original site of St. Mary’s City as a practical means of memorializing the space and to educate “those who are destined to be mothers of future generations” at Maryland’s birthplace (Fausz, 1990, p. 30). In 1839, the Maryland General Assembly approved the creation of a female seminary in St. Mary’s City to serve as a “living memorial”to the founding of Maryland (Fausz, 1990, p. 30). After years of fundraising, the Seminary building was built in October of 1845. A twostory structure, the Seminary reflected the popular Greek Revivalist style that had been adopted by 184 Brome a few years earlier in the design of St. Mary’s Manor. Commissioned by architect Thomas Evans, the building had double porticos, a number of chimneys, and six square white columns. The Seminary faced the Trinity Church, the statehouse ruins, Mulberry Tree, and the St. Mary’s River, while Brome’s home stood to east. The Seminary occupied a prominent place on the landscape (Ranzetta, 2010; Fausz, 1990, p. 31), and stood as a testament to the values preached by Kennedy, as well as the importance of religious toleration established by the colonists: the Female Seminary, owned by the State, had no religious affiliation. The memorialization of the space was further heightened through a series of celebrations held at St. Mary’s City in 1842, 1849, and 1855 to honor of the City’s founding. Organized by the Philodemic Society of Georgetown College, these events focused on the doctrine of Liberty of Conscious that was established by the colonists. At each celebration, the St. Mary’s River was filled with thousands of visitors coming via steamship and boat, and met along the banks by the local officials and guests. They visited the historic sites and ruins, ate meals on the lawn, and listened to orations given by local and regional leaders. The list of visitors to the 1855 celebration included well-established clergymen, railroad barons, and influential politicians, along with the elite members of the St. Mary’s County (Chandler, 1855). While St. Mary’s City only held a few buildings, its memorialization had become an integral part of Maryland’s contribution to understanding the meaning of the colonial period and the development of the young nation. Its settlement by social elites and its contribution to freedom of religion became important components of the historical landscape and narrative that the city evoked (King, 2012). Brome recognized the importance of this space, and tied himself to the institutions that incorporated it through his active participation in their activities and leadership. He already had extensive relationships with the County elite, established through marriages, friendships, and business relationships (Neuwirth, 1997). By positioning himself as a representative of the Church and Seminary, and providing access to the Wharf that bore his name, Brome laid claim to St. Mary’s City’s present and past, and heightened his prestige within and outside St. Mary’s County. While also attending Trinity Church, Brome served for most of his adult life as a member of the Vestry. 185 His partnership with the Seminary to build the road to the Wharf established ties to the building, but it was his appointment to the Board of Trustees in 1858 as the treasurer that solidified his tie to the institution. His appointment was part of the rescue of the Seminary, which had been forced to close during the pervious years, and helped ensure its security (Fausz, 1990, p. 42). Brome also served on the committee for the organization of the Philodemic Society celebration in 1855, and likely on the earlier celebrations as well. He provided access to some of the ruins that were still visible on his grounds, such as those at St. Peters, and it is likely that “the lawn” where the celebrations were held was his property between his manor home and the Seminary road (Chandler, 1855). Brome’s presence at these events, his name on the Wharf, his presence at Church on Sunday, and his role in saving the Seminary as a member of the Board of Trustees attached him to the space: to visit St. Mary’s City would be synonymous with visiting Dr. John Mackall Brome. With this in mind, one must also consider Brome’s plantation landscape within the context of the memorialized landscape. The use of a historical landscape as a means of tying one’s property and self to the past is not without precedent in St. Mary’s County. Julia King’s research has uncovered a number of instances where historical landscapes were maintained for these reasons. While some abandoned ruins were simply left to decay or reused for farm related purposes, others served as “symbolic reminders of the past” (King, 1994, p. 297). At Susquehanna, a plantation located in northern St. Mary’s County, an 18th-century ruin of the previous manor home remained visible until the late 19th century (King, 1994). Henry Carroll, the owner of Susquehanna, kept the ruin visible to serve as a symbol of his right to the land. It also represented his link to the colonial past: the ruin connected the colonial and revolutionary periods, and linked Carroll to that those generations through the landscape (King, 1994). Another plantation at Mattapany had the ruins of the third Lord Baltimore visible in 1873 when it was identified on a survey map (King, 1994, p. 297). These monuments served as reminders of important moments and time periods, and they were prolific throughout the early 19th century as another component of the interest in the colonial and revolutionary period. However, as King notes, these monuments could also be co-opted by individuals who lived on or near them for personal or political gain. Because Brome 186 had positioned himself as a leader with the St. Mary’s City community, and an active participant in the institutions and memorializations within the landscape, a reexamination of his plantation landscape within this context should reveal additional connections between his plantation design and the memorialized landscape. When the plantation and memorial landscapes are considered as one local landscape, the alignment of Brome’s manor home and his decision to place his structures where he did acquire an additional layer of meaning. By examining the orientation of the manor home and the relationship of the social and work spaces within it to the expanded landscape, Brome’s performative landscape takes on another purpose: to place Brome and his family at the center of the memorialized landscape of St. Mary’s City, and to tie him to the social elites of Maryland’s founding and to raise his social position among his peers as a caretaker for Maryland’s beginnings. Figure 7.9 Photo of seminary students arriving at Brome’s Wharf. Brome begins the incorporation of the memorial and plantation landscapes through the positioning of his manor home. The house was positioned in the center of the incorporated landscape, with St. Mary’s City located to the west and his plantation to the east. When visitors approach from the River, his home is the first visible structure from the water, a product of the modified river bank, and it is likely that the duplex quarter was also visible (Figure 7.8). During the 1855 cele187 brations, visitors described the riverbank as being lined with African Americans (Chandler, 1855), who were most likely Brome’s laborers, a clear demonstration of Brome’s substantial slaveholdings: this signaled to his visitors that he held significant wealth and power. By placing his manor home on the side of river, Brome ensured that his elite social status was the first visible indication of St. Mary’s City. Figure 7.10 The manor home serves as the central axis between the memorial and plantation landscape. Brome’s Wharf was the sole means of accessing the memorial landscape by boat, meaning visitors had to pass through Brome’s property to access St. Mary’s City (Figure 7.9). By naming the Wharf after himself, Brome issued a statement of ownership over the memorial landscape that the wharf gave access. While a subtle act of power, the act of naming is an act of constructing reality (Bourdieu, 1991). By naming the Wharf after himself, Brome framed the landscape it provides access to as his possession or under his protection. With that in mind, visitors would enter the memorial landscape and immediately see the Female Seminary Building. The Mulberry Tree, Statehouse ruins, and Trinity Church stood to their left, while to the right, across an empty field, would be Brome’s plantation. Since the home was the first building visible on the landscape 188 from the water, and because the Wharf controlled by Brome, visitors to the landscape would have recognized the manor home as part of the memorial landscape, not a separate entity. The architectural similarity between the Seminary and St. Mary’s Manor, each Greek Revival, tightened the relationship between the two buildings. Brome emphasizes this relationship between himself and the memorialized landscape at St. Mary’s Manor. Brome used the manor home to tie the landscapes together. When considered as part of the plantation landscape, the manor home is located on the eastern edge of the landscape, with the outbuildings, agricultural complex, and slave quarter row located to the west. When considered as part of a larger landscape that integrates both the memorial and plantation landscape, however, the manor home moves to the center, serving as an axis between the two landscapes (Figure 7.10). Figure 7.11 The division of the memorial and plantation landscape at the household scale. This division occurs at the house and yard scale (Figures 7.11 and 7.12). The segregated space that existed within the manor home falls along this central axis: the public/white/free spaces of the house extend westward to the public, memorialized space, while the work/black/enslaved spaces 189 of the manor extend eastward into the plantation. By positioning the manor home here, Brome places himself at the intersection of these two landscapes and demonstrates his control over the memorialized space and his plantation (Figure 7.13). Figure 7.12 The division of the memorial and plantation landscape at the yard scale. Excavations conducted around the Manor Home have also revealed evidence indicating that foundations of Leanord Calvert’s 17th-century home, The Country’s House, had been exposed during the early 1840s. Excavation units under the smokehouse show the outbuilding’s foundation cut directly through the Calvert foundation (Figure 7.14, left). Another unit shows a historical shovel trench that exposed part of the foundation wall (Figure 7.14, right). The layer above this feature was the fill layer used to level the surface for the building of Brome’s house, which occurred ca. 1841. Above the trench, but below this fill, was a piece of Sirius decorated transfer print, which dates from 1839 to 1841, and is found in large quantities around the manor home, suggesting it was a regularly used ceramic type in the Brome household (Snyder, 1997). This indicates that the foundation was exposed not long before the house was constructed, suggesting Brome knew about the presence of a substantial building foundation located at this site. It is difficult to say for certain if Brome was aware that the expansive foundations located underneath his manor home was Calvert’s home. As noted in Chapter 6, it is common knowledge 190 Figure 7.13 The 1860 landscape with the 17th century landscape superimposed overtop, indicating the location of the Country’s House and Brome’s manor home. of Brome’s descendants and the researchers who studied the area during the early 20th century that Calvert’s residence stood in that location, indicating a possibility that Brome himself had the knowledge that the substantial foundations that were revealed on a property still called “Governor’s Land” had been a building relating to Calvert. He most certainly would have been aware that Calvert had a large house near the center of town, as this was discussed in Rob of the Bowl, in which Calvert was an important character. The presence of these large foundations would have suggested that a man of high status would have lived there. Foundations were rare in St. Mary’s City, and Brome and his peers already knew the location of a number of the other prominent structures on the property, such as St. Johns, the Statehouse, and the Chapel, due to their extensive plowing. The presence of large foundations, therefore, likely indicated an important structure. By 191 constructing his home next to the site, Brome adopted a similar practice of other members of his social class in St. Mary’s County, and positioned his home as part of the memorial landscape. Figure 7.14 Left: foundation of the Country’s House (blue) located underneath the foundation of Brome’s smokehouse (green); Right: 1840 shovel trench (yellow) excavated over Country’s House foundation (blue) before construction of smokehouse (green). Brome also used objects inside his home to continue connecting himself to the memorialized space and the value of the colonial period. One ceramic fragment discovered under his kitchen porch was part of a series of ceramics called the Landing of Columbus Series, crafted by William Adams of Greenfield (Figure 7.15). Adams obtained the images from the United States in 1825. The 15 piece set was sent to America circa 1830, and depicts various scenes relating to Columbus’s discovery of the Americas (Larsen, 1975, p. 149). This corresponded to the rising nationalistic fervor in the United States, where the colonial and revolutionary periods were being rediscovered, interpreted, and celebrated. The popularity of ceramics depicting these periods in America’s past also rose in popularity at the time, and Adams’ set celebrating Columbus’s transatlantic voyage and his “civilizing of the savages”was part of that period (Samford, 1997). While these ceramics were popular on many people’s dining tables, the set takes on extra meaning when they associated with Brome’s home. Considering his physical relationship to a site of European colonialism at St. Mary’s City, the ceramic designs depicting the adventures of the first European explorer further emphasize the historical importance of the site as the first colonial capital of Maryland. Serving meals on or displaying this collection in his home would have further linked the historical 192 importance St. Mary’s City, and Brome’s role in its preservation. Figure 7.15 A fragment of a bowl from the Landing of Columbus Series, produced during the 1830s by William Adams. The ceramic piece also drew a connection between Kennedy’s interpretation of the site’s importance as one that was civilized by the social elite. The images depicted on the ceramics transition between images of Columbus and the indigenous inhabitants. The image on this particular piece, called the Greyhound Scene, shows a Native American woman wearing a decorated smock and moccasins carrying a bow and quiver of arrows. She is surrounded by three greyhounds. In the distance, two circular tents are positioned on the bank of a river, while two sailboats drift past (Larsen, 1975, p. 150, 351). This imagery suggests what was believed to be an uncivilized culture, contrasted with the civilized ideals brought by European colonialism and Columbus, which were depicted in other parts of the set. This imagery reflects Kennedy’s thesis, that the importance of the 193 period of settlement was the role of the social elite in the civilizing of the uncivilized New World. It would be difficult for visitors to St. Mary’s City and Brome’s house to not associate the plantation and the memorial space with each other. Brome’s efforts at connecting his plantation to the memorialized landscape positioned him as a caretaker and trustee of Maryland’s prestigious and celebrated history. The position of his home in the center of the landscape serves as the fulcrum between the plantation and memorial space, while Brome’s Wharf, his participation in leadership positions at the memorialized institutions, the presence of the 17th-century foundations near his home, and his use of ceramic ware depicting Columbus’s journey connect him to the social elites that Kennedy celebrated as having tamed a wild land. It all positioned Brome as a descendant of that legacy. His plantation serves as the justification and proof of this relationship: his prodigious landholdings, extensive slaveholdings, and modern and domesticated plantation home, justify his position as a the rightful protector of Maryland’s colonial heritage. They also serve as proof of this heritage, as Brome’s plantation demonstrates his understanding of the appropriate social order, and his control of the environmental landscape and his enslaved laborers demonstrate this through his plantation’s performance. The St. Mary’s City landscape, therefore, is doubly performative: first to demonstrate Brome’s position as a social elite, and second to tie him to a historical and memorialized legacy of Maryland’s leaders. 7.3 The Civil War: A Disrupted Landscape The Civil War in St. Mary’s County did not include any battles between the Confederacy and the Union. However, it was still an area of intense conflict, particularly between the Union military and St. Mary’s citizens who sympathized with and aided the Rebel cause. Because it shared a border with Virginia across the Potomac, St. Mary’s County became an important location for smuggling activities, and the presence of this illicit trade led to the strong presence of Union forces, both in navigating the Potomac River and on land. It was this presence of the Union forces that began to weaken the hegemony of slaveholding that Brome and his peers had established across the landscape. This had a particularly important impact on Brome’s plantation landscape. While he 194 continued to own slaves, historical and archaeological evidence indicates that Brome participated in the Civil War by aiding smugglers, and the presence of Union forces in the County and on his plantation had a dramatic impact on his ability to maintain control over his enslaved property. Their presence weakened his power on and off the plantation, and the enslaved African Americans who lived there took advantage of that weakness to gain their freedom during the War. 7.3.1 Brome’s Wharf and Smuggling Brome’s status as an elite slaveowner, his participation in the slave trade, and his social and political networks indicate that he would have sympathized with the cause of the Confederacy (Neuwirth, 1997). There is no evidence that he was arrested or served as a political prisoner, but he did take an Oath of Allegiance to President Lincoln in May of 1864, which was required of those who had aided, or were suspected of aiding, the Confederacy. His personal library includes numerous books about the Confederacy, including Jefferson Davis’s autobiography, and his church pastor was a known southern sympathizer, who was refused access to Point Lookout Prison to aid prisoners (Trinity Church, 1992b). Examining the landscape of Brome’s plantation and the surrounding area suggests that he was likely involved in, or at least ignored, the smuggling efforts that took place in the St. Mary’s River during the War. The physical environment and positioning of the St. Mary’s River made it an ideal location for smuggling. Through much of the War, the Union Flotilla operated out of the Washington Naval Yard, located on the opposite end of the Potomac as the St. Mary’s River, making the mouth of the Potomac difficult to patrol. St. Mary’s River also has a number of small creeks and tributaries that allowed small smuggling boats to hide and that were inaccessible to the larger Flotilla ships. These boats would wait for clear passage, and then cross the Potomac to Coan’s Creek in Virginia (Figure 32) (Davidson, 2000). The letters confiscated from the Great Mills Post Office by the Union Army in October of 1861 indicated that merchants, Southern Marylanders, and Virginia Confederates were in regular correspondence. In 1861, the use of the standard routes for shipping goods between Baltimore, Southern 195 Maryland, and Washington were identified as smuggling routes. Telegrams sent from Commander Ward of the Navy Department indicate that these vessels were regularly leaving Baltimore for St. Mary’s River in St. Mary’s County “with provisions and stores destined for Virginia” (Davidson, 2000, p. 128). The shipping manifests listed Maryland farmers as the recipients, allowing them to bypass customs inspectors. Once they arrived in St. Mary’s, these farmers would smuggle them across the Potomac to Coan’s Creek in Virginia. The amount of goods being shipped into the St. Mary’s River prompted Acting Master William Budd to proclaim that “more provisions landed in St. Mary’s within the last month than the inhabitants...would require for three years” (Davidson, 2000). The fact that these goods were first shipped from Baltimore to the St. Mary’s River brings Brome’s participation in smuggling into question. Brome’s Wharf was one of the primary stops in the St. Mary’s River for the steamships, and would have been one of the locations indicated by the Navy. The fact that Brome’s Wharf was burned and destroyed at some point during the War suggests that the Navy considered it to be a threat: the destruction of wharves along the Potomac was a strategy used by the Union to curb smuggling activity (Davidson, 2000). While Brome may not have carried out the smuggling himself, his ownership of the Wharf that was an entry point for the goods makes him complicit in the activity. For Brome, smuggling was one of the few ways he could aid the Confederacy. He was too old, and his son Thomas was too young, to join the Confederate forces like many in St. Mary’s County. His strong connections with the economic elite in Baltimore, the presence of a Wharf, and his extensive coastal property made his plantation an ideal location for smuggling. Goods that arrived at Brome’s Wharf could be hidden and transported with ease through Brome’s property up River, or to other deportation sites. Smith’s Creek, for example, was a popular location for smuggling operations, since it was located directly across from Coan’s Creek (Davidson, 2000). While Brome may not have physically carried out the smuggling, his plantation landscape would have provided an ideal environment for others to carry it out. 196 7.3.2 The Weakening Landscape of Power Brome’s primary reason for supporting the Confederate cause was likely economic: he had invested heavily in enslaved labor since inheriting the plantation. The work of the slaves in fields and in his manor home allowed him to maintain his elite social status and wealth, and he was willing to risk losing some control over his slaves during the War to maintain his legal right to own slaves. The heavy military presence, however, meant that Brome’s control over his enslaved property wained more than he would have likely preferred: during the War, 16 slaves escaped with the military or enlisted, comprising almost 30 percent of his enslaved property. The presence of Union soldiers in Southern Maryland eroded the control he and his peers held over their enslaved property. 7.3.2.1 The Union Presence Off the Plantation Throughout the War, the Union gradually increased their presence in St. Mary’s County. This was due largely to the steady smuggling efforts of sympathizers. Their presence included monitoring the Potomac River with the Flotilla, marching through the County to arrest political prisoners, and also constructing the important physical structures on the landscape, including the Point Lookout Hospital and Prison and a number of fueling stations for the Flotilla. Examining the efforts made by Brome’s enslaved laborers to escape during the Civil War demonstrate the degree to which the presence of the Union Army dramatically decreased the ability of the slaveholding class to maintain control over their enslaved property at the local and plantation scales. The 1867 List provides detailed information about the dates that individuals escaped the plantation (Dent, 1867). This can be demonstrated by comparing these dates to the known activities of the Union Military in St. Mary’s County, particularly those taking place near St. Mary’s Manor. The weakened power of the planter class on and off the plantation provided opportunities for enslaved African Americans to be more active in their pursuit of freedom. Throughout the South, African Americans were escaping to Union borders or military forts, making every effort to escape bondage. These efforts pressured the Federal Government to take a more proactive stance on the future of slavery, resulting in the Emancipation Proclamation. While those enslaved at St. Mary’s 197 Manor did not technically fall under the protections afforded by the policy of contraband or the Emancipation Proclamation, they, too, participated in the mass exodus, taking advantage of the Union occupation in Southern Maryland to take their freedom. This was evident at St. Mary’s Manor, where 16 enslaved African Americans left during the War (Appendix ??). To analyze the effect of the military presence on the landscape, and to determine if they influenced the actions of enslaved laborers, the moment of escape were compared to the time of the military event. In almost all cases, the moments that enslaved laborers from St. Mary’s Manor escaped corresponded to important events that took place during the Civil War, particularly on a local scale. Nace Biscoe, Matilda Hopewell, and her daughter Betsy were the first to leave the plantation in February of 1862. Their escape corresponded with the movement of 1,500 Union Troops through lower St. Mary’s County that month (Hammett, 1977). It is likely that these troops passed through St. Mary’s City, and may have stopped on or near Brome’s plantation, since he was located on a major thoroughfare and because of all the reported smuggling occurring at that time in the St. Mary’s River. This level of troop movement may have emboldened their efforts to escape. The opening of the Point Lookout hospital, which happened between July 19th and August 17th, 1862 also provided opportunities for escape. Sarah Jane Gross and Washington Walthon both escaped in August of the same year. Point Lookout was later expanded to include a prison camp, a process that lasted from July 23rd to September 30th of 1863. During that period, Ada Biscoe, John Biscoe, Maria Biscoe, aged 55, and Maria Biscoe, aged 18, all fled the plantation. They likely worked at the Prison, where a contraband camp had been established. These workers cooked and cleaned, carried out repairs, and sold goods on the grounds of the camp. Their work was integral to the ability of the Union Army to carry out their responsibilities, as there was a military labor shortage throughout the North, since so many men were already fighting. In this way, those who escaped not only took their freedom, but also served in the War effort, which would lead to their eventual emancipation. In the months following the Emancipation Proclamation, a number of African Americans left 198 the plantation. Henry Lee and Jacob Clarke were the first to leave. A larger group left in April, including Jack Biscoe, Ned Biscoe, Sallie Walthon, Alexander Gough, and William Gross. The latter two enlisted, making it quite possible that all five of these individuals may have been influenced to leave by a recruiting party from the U.S. Military. The presence of the Union military throughout the County, therefore, emboldened enslaved African Americans to escape their bondage. Brome, who had sided with the Confederacy, lacked the power to keep his laborers from escaping or aiding the Union forces: the presence of the federal government within the County superseded the local power of the slaveowning class. As the War progressed, this power began to erode the boundaries of the plantation. 7.3.2.2 The Union Presence at St. Mary’s Manor Determining the presence of Union soldiers on the plantation at St. Mary’s Manor is difficult with limited historical documents. However, some record does exist in the historical and archaeological record. The most overt action by the Union Army that weakened the power Brome held over his plantation landscape was the act of recruiting slaves. By 1863, free and enslaved blacks were being recruited by the Union, and slaves could be enlisted with the permission of their owners. Recruiting parties, while led by a white officer, were almost entirely comprised of United States Colored Troops (USCT). The presence of armed African Americans on his plantation would have been upsetting to Brome, and provided a lift in the spirits of his slaves. Evidence suggests that this "invasion," as Brome and his peers likely saw it, penetrated deeply into the plantation landscape. Historical evidence shows that two of Brome’s slaves enlisted in the USCT. William Gross and Alexander Gough both joined the 38th USCT. Gross’ account of Gross’s account of his enlistment indicates that he had been working in the field when he was approached and recruited by Captain Slick. He then was moved to Norfolk, Virginia, where he and Gough enlisted. The presence of recruiting parties on the plantations, which were made up largely of African Americans themselves, would have provided ample opportunity for interactions between black troops and slaves (Fields, 1985). The efforts made by the Union Army to enlist free and enslaved African Americans during 199 the latter portion of the War is a particularly poignant example of the eroding power of slaveholders. While the recruitment of Gough and Gross would have happened with Brome’s permission, the recruiting parties were considered an invasion of personal property. The makeup of the recruiting parties added insult to injury, as armed African American “invading” the plantation represented the common fear of Emancipation of the White planter class. Brome and his peers would have viewed their arrival as an invasion of their plantation landscape, and the recruiting of slaves as theft. It was this viewpoint that led to the murder of one officer at another St. Mary’s County plantation by the plantation owner. Brome’s willingness to let two of his slaves enlist was likely an act of mollification towards the Union, to keep them from further intrusions. Nonetheless, their presence, and their ability to destroy his Wharf and take his slaves demonstrated his powerlessness to the other enslaved laborers on the plantation. Archaeological evidence suggests that there was an occasional Union presence on Brome’s property during the War. Excavations conducted near the Manor revealed two naval buttons and a marine officer button dating to the Civil War era, suggesting the naval presence on Brome’s property. Other artifacts from the same excavations include a Union musket barrel band, a cartridge boxplate, and one pewter canteen spout. The presence of naval and marine officer buttons indicate that Brome was visited by naval and Marine officers, and that his slaves may have even done their laundry. It is likely that his ownership of Brome’s Wharf and his status as a prominent community leader meant that his home was regularly visited, and his adherence to social customs would have required he accommodate his visitors. His large slaveholdings also made him a likely suspect as a Confederate sympathizer, and his laborers targets for recruiting. The other implements corroborate the presence of the U.S. Military at Brome’s home, suggesting also the possibility that recruiting visits may have been made to the site, and that they may have even stayed on the grounds. Two other Civil War era buttons were excavated from the site of the single quarter: one belonging to a member of the Artillery and other the Dragoon. A possible interpretation suggests that these buttons belonged to African American veterans or were worn after the War by others, but it also lends the possibility that there had been contact between Brome’s slaves and military person- 200 nel, such as recruiting parties, during the War. Similar excavations at Montpelier have connected the presence of Confederate buttons with the presence of soldiers in Virginia slave quarters, indicating that a limited signature could reflect the presence of soldiers (Reeves, 2014). Considering the recruiting parties were made up of African American soldiers, their presence in or around the slave quarters would not have been surprising. Staying or visiting in these quarters would have served military and social purposes: troops could have recruited soldiers and gathered information about smuggling. Their presence would have also weakened the power and control that Brome held over his slaves by introducing a higher authority into the slave quarter area, a location that was designed as a place of capture. Despite the efforts by many at St. Mary’s Manor to take their own freedom by leaving the plantation, the majority of the enslaved laborers remained. Of the 59 slaves that Brome owned during the war, 43 remained at the plantation during the War. In many cases, those who remained had large nuclear families with a number of children. The Whalens, Butlers, and Goughs remained on the plantation until at least the 1870s, where they appear in the census. A number of Biscoes remain on the plantation, as well, likely for the same reason. Others were elderly, and likely unable to make the journey or risk the potential conditions at the journey’s end. For others still, the possibility of running away made it more difficult to reconnect with their spouses and families that were part of abroad marriages. Just because the conditions existed for a relatively safe escape, the risks to the family were still great. In this way, Brome’s strategy of building families on the plantation served one of its intended purposes. This does not mean they were inactive in the War. Throughout the South, slaves refused to work the fields, or operated at far less than full capacity due to the weakened position of their masters (Hahn, 2003). Many slaves in St. Mary’s County acted as informants for the Union military, providing information about sympathizers, and directing them to areas where smuggling was occurring, drop off points, or stored contraband. Their knowledge of the backwaters and woodlands of St. Mary’s County made their information particularly valuable for the Union soldiers. While there is no evidence to indicate that this did or did not happen at St. Mary’s Manor, the presence 201 of the Union Flotilla in the St. Mary’s River, visiting soldiers to the plantation, and a number of escaped slaves coming from the plantation suggests opportunity, motive, and a communal will towards collusion. Any effort to aid the Union in the War meant that slaves were helping in further weakening the landscape on and off the plantation, and eroding the power and control that their owners held over them. By the end of the Civil War, the conditions of the St. Mary’s City landscape had changed dramatically. No longer did a social structure exist that held African Americans in perpetual bondage. While their experience of the War differed from others in the South, the presence of the Union military meant that the conditions of their bondage were greatly weakened, both on and off the plantation. For many, this provided opportunities to resist, either by running away with the military, enlisting, or resisting at home by working less or providing information to the Union forces to combat smuggling. Brome’s efforts in the War likely diminished as the reality of slavery’s survival diminished. None of the slaves who escaped did so after August of 1863, but by that point the Union forces were enlisting slaves. This was one of the final blows to the efforts to maintain slavery in Maryland, and, therefore, Brome’s primary investment in the War (Fields, 1985). Brome signed the Oath of Allegiance on May 5th, 1864, a few months after the coaling station was built at Cross Manor on St. Inigoes Creek, and a week after the Maryland Legislature began deliberations on a new state constitution that removed provisions that protected the right to own slaves. The location of the coaling station in St. Inigoes Creek, which bordered Brome’s property, meant that the Union Flotilla could have a constant presence in the St. Mary’s River. Coupled with an impending Constitution that would illuminate slavery, Brome’s signing of the Oath signified the end of his resistance to the impending outcome of the Civil War. Brome recognized that the landscape of slavery, which had benefited him economically throughout his entire life, and which he had so heavily invested in for his family’s future, was over. 202 7.4 The Shifting Landscape: St. Mary’s Manor after the Civil War The post-Emancipation landscape at St. Mary’s Manor shows three different phases of change, mostly relating to the diminishing presence of African American households on the plantation. In each instance, Brome wrestles with the changed relationship of power between himself and his former slaves, in addition to adjusting to Maryland’s changing agricultural economy. His efforts on and off the plantation represent his struggle with the new labor system and his effort at using his political and economic capital to influence the broader landscape of St. Mary’s County. This chapter will examine these changing landscapes and Brome’s role within them. To understand these changes, each phase must be considered within the context of the changing agricultural, economic, and labor conditions of the post-slavery era, particularly in Maryland. Examining historical documents such as the U.S. Census, U.S. Agricultural Census, and newspaper articles detailing Brome’s post-Emancipation investments and interests, how Brome changed the way he managed his plantation sheds light on the changes that occurred on the plantation, and the ways he negotiated this space with the laborers who lived and worked on it. 7.4.1 Renegotiating African American Labor The Civil War and Emancipation completely disrupted the agricultural system for former slaveowners. Suddenly, they no longer had a secure labor force. The exodus of slaves during the War stoked long-held fears that African Americans would not work, and the freedom of mobility gained by Emancipation meant that the large cotton, tobacco, sugar, rice, and wheat crops that planters relied on for their income would go unharvested. Planters in Maryland, particularly the slaveholding areas such as St. Mary’s County, shared these fears, and engaged in a number of strategies to maintain the labor of their former slaves. The historical record at St. Mary’s City indicates that Brome had success and failure in maintaining his formerly enslaved laborers. A number of families remained on the plantation in the immediate years following Emancipation, including a number of Biscoes, the Whalens, Butlers, 203 and the Goughs. In addition to those who escaped the plantation during the War, many of Brome’s former slaves left, most notably Brome’s cook, who, upon gaining her freedom, flung her keys into the St. Mary’s River (Miller, 2013). Archaeological and historical evidence indicates that Brome adopted additional strategies to provide incentive for African American laborers to work on his plantation. The plantation landscape at St. Mary’s Manor shows evidence that Brome continued his agricultural pursuits immediately following Emancipation. The former slave quarters that were on the landscape show archaeological signatures dating through the 1860s and into the 1870s. This is verified by the historical record. The U.S. Census from 1870 shows nine African American dwellings listed after Brome’s Manor, home to a total of 11 families, indicating the addition of structures since 1860, when there were only seven on the property (United States Census Bureau, 1860b, 1870b). Brome’s 1870 agricultural census also shows that he continued participating in agriculture, with 800 acres of improved land, more land then he ever had under the plow during slavery. He also spent $3,400 on labor, a cost that included housing, and suggests that he was engaged in sharecropping. Many former slaveowners negotiated new economic relationships with black laborers immediately following the War. Sharecropping often existed on one-year contracts, where planters would provide a portion of the seed and fertilizer in return for a portion of the crop that black families grew and harvested. They also provided housing. The families were given certain plots of land to cultivate, and the amount of profit they turned was based on the level of their production. In many instances, black farmers had to cover their portion of the seed and fertilizer through a loan from their landlords, which often resulted in serious debt. These arrangements were, ideally, beneficial to both parties: planters gained the security of labor that would last the entire crop cycle, while black farmers were given housing and an opportunity to profit from their labor. The addition of new houses on the landscape (Figure 7.16), comprised of nuclear families, shows one of the initial concessions Brome makes to secure labor. Because African Americans prioritized reforming of families that were divided during slavery, contracts and living spaces were 204 Figure 7.16 The plantation landscape in 1870, showing the increased number of houses for African American families. required for these families. By providing additional housing, and not requiring families to share living spaces as they may have had to do during enslavement, Brome made his plantation a more appealing place to live and work. Simply allowing African American laborers to profit from their labor and providing them with housing, however, was not sufficient in guaranteeing a labor force: these were concessions many former slaveowners were making. African American families were quick to break contracts that they felt were unfair or not being upheld, using their mobility, and the support offered by the Federal Government’s Freedmen’s Bureau, to challenge the planter’s authority. Historian Edward Ayers notes that many planters began competing with each other to secure labor: suddenly, with the black farmer able to choose where and for whom they would work, planters were forced to make 205 concessions and compromises that they would have never made during slavery (Ayers, 1992). Figure 7.17 This photo from the 1890s shows glass windows on the front of the duplex quarter. One strategy Brome adopted included allowing sharecropping families more autonomy over the former slave quarters. Modifications such as the addition of glass windows and wooden floors to the structures. While Brome owned these buildings, allowing modifications to these structures gave tenants more autonomy and independence over their space. Archaeological analysis of window glass at the single and duplex quarter, for example, reveal a noticeable increase in the amount of window glass dating to the 1860s, suggesting that glass windows were added immediately following Emancipation (Figure 8.3). By examining the ratio of cut nails on the interior of the single quarter in corresponding strata, there also appears to be evidence of the addition of wooden floors after Emancipation (This analysis of window glass and wooden floors is conducted in Chapter 8). While these were likely installed by the laborers living in the quarter, they demonstrate how Emancipation forced Brome to make additional concessions on his landscape to maintain a large labor force. Another way Brome made his plantation more appealing to African American laborers was by donating land for the construction of a schoolhouse. In 1867, Brome donated a half acre “in consideration of the advantage of general education” (St. Mary’s County Court, 1867). The land 206 Figure 7.18 This map shows the location of the schoolhouse in 1910 donated was located a few miles from Brome’s home, on the corner of Mattapany Path and Three Notched Road (Figure 7.18). Five trustees were named in the deed: James Stevenson and William Kelly were white, while John Bush, John Baley, and John Holly were listed as “colored.” It is unclear if this land was donated to the Freedmen’s Bureau as others were, although that is likely. Although the Freedmen’s Bureau was closed in 1870, their records indicate that only one school was built in St. Mary’s County in October of 1867, but that by February of the next year there were 207 six. Brome donated his land in November of 1867, suggesting that his land was part of these transactions. An account by John Kimball, the Supervisor of Education at the Maryland branch of the Freedman’s Bureau, noted that 10 schoolhouses had been built in St. Mary’s County by July, and that another was under construction, all with the support of the Bureau (Kimball, 1867). Kimball also notes that, despite the donation of land by individuals like Brome, all the schoolhouses were built by black laborers: “had we been obliged to rely on white mechanics, hardly a single house would have been completed in the lower counties” (Kimball, 1867). According to Kimball, there was great enthusiasm and sacrifice by the black community to ensure that the teachers were paid and the houses were built (This is discussed in more detail in Chapter 10). There is little doubt that Brome recognized this enthusiasm, and took advantage of it by offering a schoolhouse so close to his property. Families who chose to live and work for Brome would be a relatively short walk from the schoolhouse, one of the few in the County when he donated the property. The residence of John Bush, one of the school’s black trustees, and his family on Brome’s plantation in 1870 indicates that the proximity to the schoolhouse was valuable to those who cherished education, suggesting that Brome’s strategy worked (United States Census Bureau, 1870b). Securing African American labor was critical to Brome’s efforts to regain his economic capital that he lost during the Civil War. He continued to maintain a diverse crop yield after the War, and increased the amount of acreage, and therefore the amount of crops and agricultural goods being produced (Table 7.4). He also maintained a diverse crop yield, including 4,550 bushels of wheat, 2,000 bushels of corn, 400 bushels of Irish potatoes, and 25 bushels of sweet potatoes. The plantation produced 500 pounds of butter and 300 pounds of wool, and had 20 horses, 2 mules, 12 milk cows, 14 oxen, 40 additional cattle, 100 sheep, and 60 pigs. His livestock was valued at $6,000, a $1,000 increase from 1860, and his slaughtered animals were valued at $1,500, an increase from $1,400 a decade prior. Brome also began engaging in forestry: his forest products were valued at $800. The plantation maintained its pre-war value at $50,000, and paid $3,400 towards labor, a cost that included housing for laborers (United States Census Bureau, 1870a). 208 Agriculture Census 1870 1880 Acres 1800 1835 Improved Acres 800 275 Unimproved Acres 1000 1560 Pasture, Orchard Acres n/a 15 Farm Cash Value 50000 50000 Machinery Value 500 2000 Wages Paid (incl. board) 3400 1500 Fertilizer n/a 700 Fence Repair n/a 100 Horses 20 22 Mules 2 0 Milk Cows 12 12 Oxen 14 11 Other Cattle 40 21 Calves/Sold Living n/a 5/9 Sheep/Sold Living 100 75/80 Fleeces n/a 110 Swine 60 60 Poultry n/a 74 Eggs n/a 200 Livestock Value 6000 3500 Animals Slaughtered Value 1500 n/a Wheat (Bushels) 4550 3500 Corn (Bushels) 2000 4000 Oats (Bushels) 0 0 Tobacco (Pounds) 0 40000 Wool (Pounds) 300 0 Peas/Beans (Bushels) 0 0 Irish Potatoes (Bushels) 400 75 Sweet Potatoes (Bushels) 25 0 Butter (Pounds) 500 1000 Hay (Tons) 10 35 Household Manufactures 0 0 Orchard Products Value 0 75 Farm Produce Value 10875 n/a Forest Products Value 800 n/a Table 7.4 The 1870 and 1880 U.S. Agricultural Census. 209 The immediate post-War plantation landscape, therefore, reflected Brome’s efforts to reestablish himself as a successful agriculturalist. To do so, however, required Brome to renegotiate his relationship of power and control over the people he used to own. Emancipation meant that he no longer could buy and sell laborers as he needed them, establish strict control over the time and space they used, or dictate the ways they used those spaces. Instead, Brome had to provide incentives to attract and maintain his labor force by negotiating sharecropping arrangements with African American farmers and their families, providing housing and the autonomy to control and modify that housing, and by providing land for an African American schoolhouse. Such changes reflect the dramatic changes that Emancipation brought to the agricultural system in Maryland. The agricultural context of Maryland after 1870 sparked some of the decisions Brome made during the ensuing decade, as did the larger thoughts and approaches to post-War agriculture and southern society. agricultural landscape were also changing: Maryland had difficulty competing with the Midwest’s wheat production, while Virginia and North Carolina increased their production of tobacco with the emergence of flue curing, a technique that did not catch on in Maryland (King, 1997). Marylanders, therefore, further diversified their agricultural output, engaging in truck farming and the production of meat, dairy, and produce, while others relied on the Chesapeake Bay for additional economic opportunities such as seafood. Diversifying and modernizing their agricultural output was part of a larger transition occurring in the United States, brought upon by the arrival of Land Grant Colleges and organizations such as the Grange. Crop diversification, technological and scientific advances, partnerships with railroads and diversifying transportation, and the efficient management of labor all were a component of the future of agriculture with the loss of slavery (Neuwirth, 1997). In St. Mary’s County, the influence of Grange was heavy, particularly during the early 1870s when a number of new chapters emerged, encouraged by a large campaign in the local newspapers. During the 1870s, Brome’s approach to agriculture underwent a significant transition, which is reflected in the 1880 landscape. Of particular note is Brome’s role as the founder and head master of the St. Inigoes Grange, which he established in 1874. Examining the changes on Brome’s 210 landscape between 1870 and 1880 suggest that he embraced this new philosophy, choosing to deal with issues of labor and agriculture by reducing his dependence on both. Figure 7.19 The plantation landscape in 1880. By 1880, the St. Mary’s Manor plantation landscape did not resemble its 1870 configuration (Figure 7.19). Almost all of the homes used for African American families were gone, a change verified by the U.S. Population Census from 1880. Fewer households near Brome’s home included farmers. Census records show only three households on Brome’s property inhabited by laborers. The first is by a white extended family and a schoolteacher. The second household is a duplex, and holds two African American extended families, while the third household is occupied by a large African American extended family (United States Census Bureau, 1880b). None of these families had lived on the plantation in 1870 or had been formerly enslaved by Brome, indicating that the previous decade had led to a shift in his agricultural approach that was no longer amenable to the 211 families who had previously worked for him, and that the mobility afforded African American families by Emancipation made for other opportunities. The 1880 Agricultural Census shows that this landscape change also reflected a dramatic shift in Brome’s agricultural pursuits, emphasizing further diversification, a reduction in large staple crops, and a decrease in the money used to support labor (Table 7.4). Overall, the plantation continued to be valued at $50,000. In 1880, only 275 of Brome’s total 1,835 acre plantation are under cultivation, leaving 1,560 acres wooded, and 15 acres of pasture and orchard. Of those improved acres, 160 went to producing 3,500 bushels of wheat, 80 went towards 4,000 bushels of corn, and two produced 75 bushels of Irish potatoes. Another 14 acres resulted in 40,000 pounds of tobacco. Brome’s laborers also produced 1,000 pounds of butter, along with a five acre orchard of 200 trees. He also had livestock: 22 horses, 12 milk cows, 11 oxen, 21 other cattle, 8 calves, and 75 sheep, and 60 swine. He sold 15 cattle and 80 sheep that year, suggesting an increase in these livestock since 1870. His livestock was valued at $3,500, a decrease since 1870 (United States Census Bureau, 1880a). However, the sale of the cattle and sheep may have compensated for that lost value. Brome’s investment in new machinery and his diversification in crop production also effected the built landscape. The value of his machinery in 1870 was $500, a drop of $1,000 since 1860, perhaps a result of damage or neglect from the War. However, by 1880 the value of his machinery had increased to $2,000, the highest of any value recorded during or after slavery. This likely reflects his investment in other industries such as timbering: the presence of a saw and grist mill on the plantation, as well as timber carts and a log roller, on Brome’s 1887 valuation of property indicate that he had begun investing more land and resources into the production of timber. He also added a corn crib in the 1870s to the agricultural complex, and rebuilt the Wharf that had been destroyed during the War in 1874 (Neuwirth, 1997; unknown, 1874). The post-War landscape at St. Mary’s Manor dealt primarily with Brome’s efforts to reestablish his prominence in agriculture, and to navigate the complex new relationship with African American laborers. Immediately following the War, this meant renegotiating the relationships of labor, 212 and making concessions that incentivized black families to continue working on his plantation. By 1880, however, Brome changed his agricultural philosophy, and began reconsidering his investments in black labor and large scale agriculture. Modernizing his plantation machinery and reducing the amount of land under till created a more efficient agricultural system, while reducing his reliance on black labor. For the first time, a household of white farmers emerged on the landscape, representing his reduced dependence on black families. 7.4.2 New Agriculture: The Grange and Modernization Activities on the plantation were not the only reforms being instituted in St. Mary’s County after the War. Maryland’s position on the border between northern manufacturing and southern agricultural began to influence the future of the southern Maryland landscape. Some Marylanders and Southerners began to adopt the New South Creed. Jessica Nuewirth describes this mindset as: ...the language of modernization in a region founded on slave labor, and defeated in war by northern capitalists, spoke of a vision of northern capitalist development tamed by southern sensibility, and obscured a struggling economy still coming to terms with loss. The New South Creed spoke of developing industry, railroads, and towns, inhabited by industrious southerners. The New SouthCreed spoke of re-building and re-making the land and people into modern, prosperous, peaceful entities (Neuwirth, 1997, p. 283). Nuewirth argues that, in St. Mary’s County, particularly in the First District, the concept of the New South held a particular allure. Modifications to Point Lookout and other regions were made to include hotels and attract tourists. Efforts to build a railroad were integral to this vision, and plans were developed and money was invested beginning in 1867 until the 1880s. Efforts to create small towns along this railroad also began, as well as the construction of new wharves along the Potomac and its tributaries. Despite these efforts, the railroad never emerged, leaving the vision of a New South in St. Mary’s County, as Nuewirth describes, an “imagined landscape” (Neuwirth, 1997). 213 The vision of the New South was, in many respects, a hopeful vision that masked the realities of the post-war era: it was a time of unrest and instability, where racial relations were heavily strained. Brome attempted to use his financial and social capital to steer St. Mary’s County in this direction. He began by investing heavily in bringing a railroad to St. Mary’s City and to revitalize the water transportation system that had been lost during the War. Brome’s engagement with the idea of a railroad to Point Lookout began immediately following the Civil War. He, along with many others, believed that improving transportation networks would be critical to farmers in the South. This was particularly true in Maryland, where the competition from the wheat producing west meant that Maryland farmers had to begin providing perishable goods to urban markets. Trains were the most reliable and efficient means to transport goods into Washington, Baltimore, and elsewhere, particularly when compared to the steamboat traffic, which was slow and limited by seasonality (Fields, 1985; Neuwirth, 1997). The Southern Maryland Railroad Company was incorporated in 1868 by the Maryland Legislature to address these issues, with plans to build a road from Point Lookout to Washington, D.C., including a station in St. Mary’s City. These railroads would connect into the Baltimore and Ohio and Pennsylvania Railroads and the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal, providing access to most of the Northeast and West. Such a project would connect Brome and the rest of Southern Maryland to most of the country, allowing for the faster transportation of wheat, tobacco, and perishable goods into larger markets (Hammett, 1977; Neuwirth, 1997). Brome became immediately involved in the project, selling a strip of land for a right-of-way in 1869. He also invested $3,000 in return for 30 shares of the company, making him one of the largest shareholders in St. Mary’s County, and was elected to the twelve member board of directors (Hammett, 1977). Despite Brome’s enthusiasm and financial contributions, progress on the railroad was slow due to competition from a rival company and the economic panic of 1873. These companies negotiated a compromise by the late 1870s. Brome rebuilt his Wharf during that time, either in anticipation of the railroad, or perhaps out of some concern that the railroad was not coming fast enough and he needed to retain his contacts to the outside world. He clearly intended for it to be a major stop, as 214 he also built a large warehouse at the Wharf for storing goods. Surveying for the railroad near St. Mary’s City ceased in 1876, after complaints about the misuse of state funds. In 1877 there was a resurgence if interest, and work began in 1879, completing the line to Mechanicsville. The land south of Mechanicsville had been graded, but no tracks were ever laid, and the company defaulted in 1885. No line ever ran from Washington to St. Mary’s City, a reality that came at a large cost to Brome (Hammett, 1977; Neuwirth, 1997). Brome’s investments were both financial and in land. The expectation of a railroad coincided with Brome’s plan to make St. Mary’s City a town again. In 1879 he provided acreage to the Improvement Company extending from his orchard to Rosecroft Farm with the intention of building a town. Brome would receive half the proceeds from the sale of the lots. Potential investors from Philadelphia and New York visited St. Mary’s City in 1886 to “inspect this harbor with its five miles of river front, locate the sites for the hotel, shops, coal depot, wharves, depot, and general terminal facilities...the place has been laid out for a large city” (unknown, 1886). By this point, however, Brome was in financial trouble, and was forced to sell most of his land to Wile. He died in 1887 without ever seeing his town or railroad built (Neuwirth, 1997). Brome’s interest in building a new St. Mary’s City was likely tied to his interest in the New South Creed, but also to his understanding of the historical value of his property. Brome recognized that the memorialized landscape offered a “fitting location for a railroad stop, a town, and harbor” (Neuwirth, 1997, p. 34). Brome’s instincts about the value of a memorialized landscape, learned through his connection to the 17th-century space and his use of it to gain power in the 1840s and 50s, were correct. Brome continued to serve as an advocate for the memorialized landscape and the institutions that were located within it. He was instrumental in rescuing the Female Seminary as a Board Member and Treasurer during the 1850s, and served as a member until his death. He also served as a vestry member of the Trinity Church until his passing. Following the sale of all but 100 acres to Wile Brome’s plantation approached the final stage of its transformation from a large slave plantation to the landscape that would endure until the property’s sale to the State of Maryland during the 1970s (Figure 7.20). This landscape repre- 215 Figure 7.20 The plantation landscape ca. 1935. sents only the manor home, duplex quarter, Dutchman’s house, and the agricultural complex, and includes only the 100 acres surrounding the Manor Home. It was Brome’s failed investments in the railroad, and his vision for a railroad town, that led to the eventual sale of almost all of the property. In many ways, the post-Emancipation landscape during this third phase is disintegrating: no longer a prominently agricultural space, the landscape is marked by what disappears, not what is added. Instead of becoming the railroad town he imagined, it was his enduring commitment to the neighboring memorial landscape and the protection of the area’s historical landscape his and his descendant’s lasting contribution to the St. Mary’s City landscape. However, Brome’s descendants maintained an important role in the local landscape, and carried on Brome’s role as a caretaker for the 17th century landscape. His son, J. Thomas Brome, served on the Seminary’s Board and the Church’s Vestry. During the 1890s, when the Church 216 decided to carry out a remodel and erect the Calvert Monument in place of the Mulberry Tree, J. Thomas Brome hosted a party at his home, which was captured in a photograph (Figure 7.7). J. Thomas’s descendants made even larger contributions, donating land for the reconstruction of the 17th-century statehouse for the Tricentennial Celebration of Maryland’s founding in 1934. Brome’s great-grandson, J. Spence Howard, served on the Tricentennial Committee, and also encouraged the investigation of archaeological sites on the property by Henry Chandlee Forman (Forman, 1938). Later, Spence Howard would sell the entire property to the State of Maryland to serve in its current capacity as Historic St. Mary’s City, an act that has led to countless archaeological investigations, the recreation of parts of the 17th-century landscape, and the availability of this knowledge to the public. It also, in a strange twist of fate, has led to this research. The plantation landscape of John Brome went through a variety of changes between 1840 and 1935. During slavery, he established a landscape that used its orientation to maintain control over his enslaved property to heighten his agricultural production, while simultaneously building social capital by displaying his control over the past and his performance as a member of the 19th century elite. This landscape was rocked during the Civil War, when his participation in smuggling and his sympathies to the southern cause led to the presence of Union forces on his land, and the loss of many of his enslaved laborers. Post-War, Brome made countless efforts to renew his position as an agricultural and social leader. He renegotiated his relationship with his laborers to maintain a productive plantation, and began investing heavily in opportunities for further economic growth through the railroad. He also began to revolutionize the approach to agriculture in St. Mary’s County by presiding over a chapter the Grange, and leading through example by modernizing his agricultural pursuits. Unfortunately for Brome, his investments failed, and he was forced to sell most of his plantation. Of particular importance regarding these transitions is their impact on the African American population that lived and worked on the plantation. The lives of these individuals, their families, and communities will be examined in the following chapters. How they operated within the chang- 217 ing landscape, mitigating, resisting, and avoiding the choices that Brome made to improve their quality of life will be addressed, and offer a broader glimpse into the way that the landscape of St. Mary’s Manor and its surrounding lands were experienced by African Americans as they gained their freedom. 218 CHAPTER 8 SPACES AND PLACES ON THE AFRICAN AMERICAN PLANTATION LANDSCAPE Brome designed his plantation landscape to maximize agricultural production, a process that required strategies to manage and control African American labor. Throughout the transition from slavery to freedom, his efforts were negotiated with the African American community, a process that is visible on the planation landscape. Space was one dimension that was under negotiation. Interrogating the plantation landscape from the perspective of the African Americans who lived within it reveals an alternative landscape, where spaces were reused by enslaved and free African Americans to resist their bondage, improve their quality of life, avoid oppression, and define their freedom on their own terms. The following chapter examines this alternative plantation landscape from the perspective of enslaved and free African Americans. In particular, it will focus on three spaces on the plantation: the African American dwelling, the manor home, and the wilderness, demonstrating how African Americans living on the plantation claimed and used spaces to mitigate the realities of life during and after slavery. Examining these spaces brings to light how African Americans negotiated and claimed them as significant cultural places on their alternative landscape. By examining these places through time, this analysis demonstrates how Emancipation changed the negotiation of space and how the African American community used these areas on the plantation. 219 8.1 Redefining the African American House Determining how individuals and communities claim spaces requires the identification of objects that represent specific activities conducted by that group. When members of a community establish ownership over a space, an alternative meaning is constructed for the space. Archaeologists and historians have recently examined space in this way. Penningroth argued that enslaved and free African Americans used a method of display and acknowledgement as a means of demonstrating ownership of goods and space (Penningroth, 2003). A number of archaeologists have identified yard sweeping as a way that enslaved laborers marked the yardspace as a place of cultural significance (Heath and Bennett, 2000; Battle-Baptiste, 2010; Fesler, 2010). This section will incorporate and expand these ideas into a broader context where the physical marking or modification of the domestic space by its inhabitants serves as a means of identifying a space as place of significance. This section will further examine how changes and modifications made to the houses and yards of African Americans at St. Mary’s Manor served to claim the domestic sphere as a part of an alternative plantation landscape. During slavery, Brome shaped African American dwellings to serve as an area to house his enslaved laborers. Slave dwellings were places of bondage and capture. Archaeologists have identified a number of strategies whereby African Americans redefined these spaces of bondage as places cultural importance that protected and insulated enslaved laborers from the realities of enslavement. Activities such as swept yards and spiritual protections marked these sites as culturally significant places for the African American community, while subfloor pits indicate private areas within the home that protected personal belongings, food, or served spiritual purposes. Post-Emancipation, African Americans began to view their homes as possessions, and engaged in strategies to claim ownership over these spaces by making physical improvements to them, such as adding floors or windows and separating them more visibly from white spaces. Archaeological analysis of different features can determine how enslaved and free African Americans on Brome’s plantation used space to claim ownership over different areas of the African American domestic sphere. The first section will examine how enslaved and free laborers physi220 cally marked and modified the domestic sphere to expand and protect their dwellings. The second section will examine how architectural modifications were used to improve the quality of life of African Americans who lived in the structure, while also demonstrating visible modifications that denoted their ownership of these buildings. 8.1.1 Expanding and Protecting Living Space The primary purpose of the African American dwelling was as a living space, and maximizing the available space was one way that African Americans claimed these spaces. These activities also served to claim possession of these spaces. The following section will examine the interior of the dwelling and the surrounding yardspace, taking note of the strategies enslaved laborers used to maximize the available space, and how these efforts served to claim those spaces as their own. It will also examine how these strategies continued into the post-slavery era with changes and modifications to building interiors during and after slavery to increase the available living space, and how these modifications transitioned to the yardspace. 8.1.1.1 Inside the Dwelling The interior of the slave or tenant quarter has received limited attention in terms of examining the use of space. Considering the small spaces that made up the dwelling, and the number of individuals forced to live within its confines, understanding how space was modified can demonstrate the type of investments put into the structure. During slavery, subfloor pits are the most popular interior modification examined. Archaeologists have interpreted subfloor pits as personal storage lockers, areas for food storage, or as spiritual caches (Samford, 2007; Neiman, 2008). These interpretations all interpret these pits as modifications added by enslaved laborers, indicating a means of redefining and showing ownership of the space, and which expanded their available space within the quarter. The subfloor pits at the single and duplex quarter provide clear examples of this. In the duplex quarter, a brick and tin-lined subfloor pit was discovered during excavations in one of the alcoves located next to the central chimney. The pit is located to the right of the Eastern 221 Figure 8.1 A photograph of the excavations of the subfloor pit in the duplex quarter. hearth, and shared one wall with the chimney, with additional courses underneath the chimney’s foundation. The pit measured 2.5 by 3 feet and was 2.25 feet deep. The remaining three walls were lined with brick, and each had a tin facing. The tin was likely reused metal roofing material, while the brick was reused 17th century brick. This brick was likely salvaged from the remains of the 17th century Jesuit Chapel, which was under plow during the 19th century. Oral history indicates that bricks were still turning up in the plows as late as the mid-19th century (Hall and Hall, 2011). The fill within the pit includes materials dating to the slavery period, but also well into the late 19th and early 20th century, with a piece of Mason jar glass dating to ca. 1915 providing the most recent date (Toulouse, 1970). This evidence suggests the pit was filled in after 1915 with soil and debris taken from elsewhere on the site. Excavations only indicated one level of stratigraphy within the pit, suggesting it was filled in one event, not over a period of time. It is likely that the subfloor pit may have fallen out of use earlier then 1915, depending on the addition of wood floors in the quarters after Emancipation. In the single quarter, a brick-lined subfloor pit was located in the center of the dwelling, oriented in front of the hearth. The pit was unexcavated, leaving no evidence to suggest when it was 222 Figure 8.2 The outline of the single quarter foundation and subfloor pit. constructed or filled. The presence of window glass and other late 19th and early 20th century artifacts on the top of the pit indicate that it was filled at the same time as the pit in the duplex. The location of the subfloor pit in the single quarter complies with a pattern identified on other plantations (Samford, 2007; Heath, 2012). Placing the subfloor pit directly in front of and a few feet from the hearth provided a constant and direct heat source. Assuring the pit interior sustained a specific temperature maximized its utility for preserving food year round. The pit in the duplex quarter, however, does not comply with this pattern. Its location to the side of the hearth would have reduced direct heat and changed the internal climate of the pit. However, this brings into question the unique feature of the tin lining that covers three walls of the subfloor pit in the duplex 223 Figure 8.3 The single and duplex quarter in the 1890s. quarter. Notably, the tin-lined walls faced the hearth, while the wall shared with the hearth did not have tin lining. This lining, therefore, would have reflected the heat coming through the hearth wall back into the pit, thereby raising the temperature of pit. This would have compensated for the lack of direct heat that the single quarter subfloor pit received. So, why was the duplex quarter subfloor pit in a different place than that of the single quarter pit? In short, its location next to the hearth took advantage of a space that was underused. Architectural evidence indicates the ladder to the loft was located in this alcove, meaning this area of the quarter had little use as a living space. Placing the subfloor pit in that location maximized the use of space within the quarter, while modifying its interior with tin lining ensured the pit maintained its functional utility. Locating the pit in the alcove resulted in an added benefit of increased comfort in the interior space, avoiding the need for a wood-paneled cover sitting over a subfloor pit in the center of the room. A similar arrangement did not occur in the single quarter because the external chimney stack did not allow for it. Instead, its residents had to adopt a more standard 224 arrangement, likely resulting in a more cluttered internal space. The addition of subfloor pits in both structures denotes the modification of space within the quarter to benefit slaves’ daily lives, while the pit in the duplex quarter served to maximize the space. By creatively modifying these spaces, the interior of the structure became distinctly “theirs." Figure 8.4 A photograph of the passageway between the two sides of the duplex quarter. It is difficult to determine how long after Emancipation the subfloor pits were in use. Evidence suggests the duplex quarter pit was filled after 1915. However, the addition of wooden floors after 225 Emancipation (discussed below) may have rendered subfloor pits unusable. Emma Hall does not recall the subfloor pit in the duplex, meaning that they were filled prior to the 1920s. The need for a hidden subfloor pit to hide food would have been less necessary for post-Emancipation families: their activities no longer required as much seclusion or secrecy. However, increasing the amount of interior space available continued after Emancipation and became more visible. Figure 8.5 The north side of the single quarter. The duplex quarter shows changes in its architecture through time relating to the architectural expansion of the interior space. The physical remains of the duplex, which still stand in a different location as of this writing, indicate that the wall separating each side of the duplex had been sawn off, opening a passageway. This converted the two-family structure into a two-room, singlefamily dwelling. Alex Milford, who lived in the duplex as a child in the early 1900s, recounted that only one family resided in the home, indicating that this modification occurred prior to 1900 226 (McDaniel, 1982). Census records from 1880 show three large African American families living in two dwellings near Brome’s manor home, suggesting that one of the occupied buildings was the duplex (United States Census Bureau, 1880b). The immense size of these families, however, may also suggest that both were living in duplexes: one may have been converted prior to 1880 to accommodate the family’s size. This type of conversion was common in St. Mary’s County since the duplex quarters provided additional space to accommodate large families (McDaniel, 1982). Figure 8.6 Photograph from 1910s of the duplex quarter, with the single quarter in the background in disrepair. During this same period, the single quarter began to fall out of use as a domestic structure, as identified in Chapter 6. Photographs suggest that it became a barn or shed, likely used by the inhabitants of the duplex for storage. This provides a more visual transition in terms of available storage space. During slavery, only small subfloor pits were available for the storage of goods. After Emancipation, laborers were able to modify an entire building to serve as an external storage space. Archaeological evidence also reveals an addition to the rear of the duplex quarter. Excavations 227 Figure 8.7 An aerial photograph of St. Mary’s City in 1934 shows the duplex quarter with a shed addition extending off its rear. show remains of two brick piers extending from the back of the northern side of the duplex quarter. One of these piers cut through a feature containing a complete glass bottle. The bottle was clear glass with a tooled finish, cup mold base, and air vent marks, indicating a manufacture date between 1885 and 1915 (Lindsey, 2010a). Also present in the feature was a crown cap, moving the TPQ to 1892. Since the use of bottles with tooled finishes began to diminish around 1915, it is likely that this bottle was buried no later than the 1920s. This indicates that the piers were placed after the turn of the century and likely after 1925. An aerial photograph from 1934 (Figure 8.7) shows this addition extending behind the rear of the northern half of the duplex (Historic St. Mary’s City, 1934). Additional photographs from the preservation efforts conducted by HSMC in the 1970s show where the shed was removed, extending almost to the center of the duplex’s rear wall, indicating that it was approximately 10 feet deep and 15 feet wide. Emma and Ernest Hall recalled the addition had a shed roof, extending off the top of the duplex roof. Emma recounts that her father, Solomon Milburn, built the addition 228 Figure 8.8 This image from 1979 shows the outline of where the addition attached to the rear of the duplex quarter after it was removed. to accommodate his family, specifically as a bedroom for her brothers (Hall and Hall, 2011). This means the addition was likely built during the late 1920s. A doorway extended off the back of the room, and another doorway is visible in the preservation photographs connecting the addition and the interior of the duplex. The expansion of the interior space from the confined slave quarters to the expanded threeroom quarter demonstrated the new autonomy that African Americans gained after Emancipation. This included their ability to modify the physical exterior of their homes to accommodate their families, a process that publicly displayed their ownership of their homes and the power they had over the interior space. 229 8.1.1.2 The Yardspace Slave quarter yardspaces were negotiated between the plantation owner and the enslaved community. While yards served as one of the few areas of respite for the enslaved, they were under constant surveillance by the slaveowner and overseer, due to the proximity of the quarters to the manor home and overseer’s house. Despite this surveillance, scholars have noted that the inhabitants of slave quarters used yardspaces as extensions of their living quarters (Heath and Bennett, 2000; Penningroth, 2003; Fesler, 2010; Battle-Baptiste, 2010). The limited space within the quarters and poor living conditions made the yard surrounding the quarter a logical extension of the dwelling. Determining how African Americans used yardspace before and after slavery can indicate how these spaces were negotiated and used. In particular, this analysis will identify areas that show heavy concentrations of artifacts before and after Emancipation to identify areas where swept yards occurred. Among other interpretations, swept yards have been considered by scholars to represent an extension of African American social space, making the yardspace as a cultural place on the plantation. Geographic Information Systems (GIS) will be used to examine spatial distributions of a sample of ceramics on the landscape to determine the presence of swept yards. Fifty-six 5 ft. by 5 ft. units were selected for the sample, account for 36 percent of the units excavated in the displayed study area (Figure 8.9). This sample was chosen to account for approximately one 5 ft. by 5 ft. unit per 10 ft. by 10 ft. square. It includes the random sample collected during the 1998 and 1999 field school, in addition to judgmental units placed to achieve a more robust sample of the area. A sample was taken due to the high quantity of ceramics on the site, and the detailed decorative analysis required for the analysis. Ceramics were then grouped by decoration type into pre- and post-Civil War era ceramics, using the same decorative styles discussed in Chapter 6. Undecorated white ware was categorized separately and will serve as a control, since it spans both periods of occupation. Ceramics are taken from all stratigraphic levels. The maps were created using an Inverse Distance Weighted (IDW) Interpolation with a weight of 6. Three maps were created for each ceramic grouping. One examined the entire area surrounding the single and duplex, one just 230 Figure 8.9 The sampled units for distribution analysis. the single quarter, and one just the duplex. This was done due to the difference in the number of units excavated at each building. Fortunately, no discernible difference appears on the maps, so the map of both spaces will be used for this discussion. It is expected that swept yards will be visible through the distribution of ceramics surrounding the single and duplex quarters. The expectation is that areas immediately in front of and surrounding the quarters will show low density, with high density of ceramics located 10 to 15 feet away from the quarters. This would reveal a relatively clean, or swept, yardspace around the buildings. 231 It is also expected that this pattern will remain after Emancipation. Figure 8.10 Distribution of decorated ceramics dating to pre 1865. Pre-Civil War ceramics show significant ceramic distribution across the site (Figure 8.10). The front yard of the single and duplex quarters show areas of low density, extending, at times, 15 to 20 feet, and others only 5 to 10 feet, from the front of the quarter. These low density areas also extend between the two quarters, perhaps indicating a shared yard space. This pattern continues into the rear yard of the duplex, where low density of ceramics appears behind the duplex. The single quarter, however, does not reveal this pattern, with large concen232 trations of ceramics appearing behind the quarter. A particularly high density of ceramics appears behind the chimney of the single quarter, which clearly affects the distribution of ceramics in the rear yard. the single and duplex also shows high concentrations of ceramics, indicating that the shared swept yard space did not extend into the rear of the quarter. Instead, it appears this area was used for disposal. Figure 8.11 Distribution of decorated ceramics dating to post 1865 Similar patterning exists in the post-Civil War ceramic distribution (Figure 8.11). The front yard of the single quarter shows no ceramics. This extends across the shared yard space, and part 233 of the duplex quarter yard shows low densities. However, the density of ceramics in front of the southern half of the duplex is higher, although this appears to be due to extremely high densities in one unit located 10 to 15 feet from the front of the duplex, whereas units directly in front of the duplex show low densities of ceramics. The rear yard of the duplex continues to show a dearth of ceramics near the duplex, and then increasing density further from the building. The single quarter shows a similar pattern, with the area behind the chimney showing less density, and, therefore, the rear yard clearing up as well. The area between the single and duplex continues to show high densities, again suggesting a shared refuse or disposal area. The white ware concentrations helps to account for the distribution of ceramics (Figure 8.12). It is important to note that white ware was in use throughout the building’s occupation, spanning from 1840 into the 1960s. Therefore, its presence highlights some of the areas of high and low density. In the front yard of the single quarter, a well-defined area of low density appears, validating the interpretation of a swept yard before and after Emancipation. In front of the duplex, lower densities appear on either side of the duplex, but not in the center. This may suggest a pattern of sweeping. It is important to note that the entranceways changed in the 20th century at the duplex, and may have affected the refuse patterns in the front yard: the southern doorway was not used by the Milburn family, which may explain larger concentrations on that side of the duplex (Hall, 2013). The shared yardspace shows higher concentrations between the two quarters. Once again, this discrepancy may be due to the 20th century occupation: since the single quarter was not occupied in the 20th century, the white ware in this area may be due to sweepings from the duplex quarter. During the 20th century, this area was not shared, and therefore may have not been an active yardspace. The rear yards show a very unique pattern of white ware. The high concentration of white ware behind the single quarter chimney validates the pre-Civil War concentration of decorated wares, suggesting that enslaved laborers in the single quarter used this area for refuse disposal. Behind the single quarter, a high concentration of white ware appears directly behind the building, a complete inverse from both the pre and post Civil War distributions. Worth noting, this concentration is 234 Figure 8.12 Distribution of undecorated white ware. only on the southern portion of the duplex. This is important because, after 1920, an addition was built onto the northern portion of the duplex. This concentration of white ware, therefore, suggests ceramics were disposed off behind this addition, and reflects a 20th century disposal. White ware also appears in high quantities in the rear yard between the single and duplex quarter. The patterns identified in the pre- and post-Civil War distributions verify that this area was a shared refuse area. Based on the distribution of different ceramic types, it appears that the front yards of the dwellings were kept clean, while the rear yards show evidence of a sheet refuse pattern. This 235 is not an uncommon pattern at domestic sites (Moir, 1982; King and Miller, 1987). Oral history from 20th century residents suggests that this clean front yard may indicate swept yards. Emma Hall noted that her family kept the yard of the duplex swept clean (Hall, 2013). Other archaeologists have noted this pattern in cultural and oral history accounts (Heath and Bennett, 2000; Battle-Baptiste, 2010). This pattern at this site, therefore, suggests that the enslaved and free African Americans swept their yards as a means of defining their space. This patterning suggests that living and social spaces extended outside of the single and duplex quarters, and sweeping occurred to make the yard a livable and comfortable area of use. Therefore, enslaved and free African Americans modified their yardspace to extend their usable space. Swept yards and defined yardspaces also had important connotations for enslaved African Americans, allowing them to not only extend their cramped living areas, but to claim ownership over external spaces. Sweeping their yards, an act that had deep cultural and spiritual significance, changed the yard from a space of bondage into a place of significance, creating a “cultural boundary” around the dwelling (Battle-Baptiste, 2010, p. 88). Battle-Baptiste also argues that the act of sweeping the yard was spiritual, and had been practiced in Africa: undesirable spirits and the activities of the planter were swept off the area of the quarters, separating and protecting the home from evil (Battle-Baptiste, 2010, p. 89). Such an act would have had significance for African Americans during and after slavery, as each period came with its own challenges regarding oppression and racism. While only Brome and his peers would have noticed it, the act of sweeping yards held deep spiritual and political power for the African Americans on his plantation, and represented a subtle negotiation and expansion of African American living space. 8.1.2 Architectural Modifications Making physical modifications to the single and duplex quarter was another strategy used to claim the domestic space as a distinctly African American place. Modifications were made to the interior and exterior of the duplex and single quarters, and can be identified through archaeological and architectural evidence. These modifications are limited to hidden, interior changes during slavery, 236 such as the subfloor pit, but become more explicit and visible after Emancipation, with wooden floors, glass windows, and the physical additions to the home and yardspace mentioned earlier. To determine if post-Emancipation families added floors as an internal upgrade to their living space, two things must be determined: whether the slave quarters had wooden floors as part of their original construction, and, if not, when floors were added. Architectural analysis of the duplex will determine if the quarters were originally constructed for dirt floors and if wooden floors were added later. Archaeological analysis of the nail distribution can also verify whether wooden floors were part of the single quarter’s modifications. One way to determine the original flooring in the duplex is by examining the level of the hearth. Oral history and the Historic Architectural Building Survey (HABS) report indicates dirt floors existed during slavery and architectural modifications occurred at least during the 20th century. Spence Howard, a descendant of Brome, states wooden floors were added in the 20th century, and that the hearths were raised to bring them level with the new floors (Kurtze, Peter, 1993). This suggests that their original grade was at ground level with dirt floors. Emma Hall also remembers having wooden floors during her time living in the house during the 20th century (Hall and Hall, 2011). This demonstrates that the original structure had dirt floors and that wooden floors were at least added during the 20th century. An archaeological analysis of the number of cut and wire nails in the footprint of the single quarter can more accurately date when these floors were added. This analysis will compare the number of cut and wire nails in units located on the interior of the single quarter to those that included a wall. The assumption is that the addition of wooden floors would reveal a more significant quantity of nails on the interior of the building. This analysis will rely on the site’s stratigraphy and the nail type to tell time, with the understanding that the strata at the site can only provide a relative difference, and will not reveal a specific time when change occurred. This relative change is demonstrated through the ratio of cut to wire nails in each level: as levels progress in time, the amount of cut nails decreases, and wire nails increases. Based on this analysis, it can be determined that Level 3 is mostly representative of a period prior to the introduction of wire nails (pre 237 1890s), Level 2 represents a period prior to wire nails as well as the transition to wire nails (1870s to 1930s), and Level 1 represents an occupation after wire nails have been fully adopted (1930s to present) (Nelson, 1965; Wells, 1998; Adams, 2002). Additionally, within each level, cut and wire nails can be assessed independently, to create finer time distinctions. In Level 2, therefore, concentrations of cut nails can be associated with earlier modifications, while wire nails represent later concentrations. It is expected that cut nails will not be present in interior units’ earliest strata, Level 3, but will emerge in Level 2, indicating that wooden floors were added sometime after Emancipation. Because Level 1 represents a post-demolition period, it will be excluded from the analysis. Nail quantities in Levels 2 and 3 were tallied for interior, wall, and chimney units(Figure 8.13). Chimney units were considered separately because their nail quantity, while part of a wall, would be considerably lower since the majority of the wall was brick, not wood. By counting chimney units separately, these low numbers will not offset the average counts of nails per unit located in wooden wall units. Quantities from Level 3 show 283 cut nails in Wall Units and only 12 cut nails in interior units. Interior units only accounted for 4 percent of the total assemblage, an average of 31.44 cut nails per wall unit and only 3 cut nails per interior unit. In total, interior nails accounted for only 4 percent of the total assemblage of cut nails (Figure 8.14). The count for wire nails is even less, with only 56 wire nails in wall units and 6 in interior units, averages of 6.22 and 1.5 wire nails, respectively. These extremely low counts of wire nails suggest that they were products of stratigraphic mixing, not representative of architectural modifications. The quantities of cut nails, however, show a dramatic difference between the wall units and interior units, suggesting that the structure originally had dirt floors. Examining Level 2 presents a different picture. Interior units accounted for 48 cut nails, an average of 12 per unit, while wall units included 266 cut nails. While the number of cut nails in the wall units decreased only slightly, the number of nails on the interior of the quarter increased fourfold. In Level 2, interior cut nails accounted for 15 percent of the total assemblage, a significant 238 Figure 8.13 Division of units selected for chimney (blue), wall (yellow), and interior (green) units at the single quarter. increase compared to Level 3 (Figure 8.14). Wire nails also show a dramatic increase, as Level 2 becomes more representative of a late 19th/early 20th century period. Wall units account for 204 wire nails, an average of 22.67 nails per unit, while interior units account for 68 wire nails, an average of 17 per unit. Interior wire nails account for 22 percent of the wire nail assemblage. When combined, interior cut and wire nails account for 18 percent of the the total nail assemblage, an increase from 5 percent in Level 3. These numbers suggest two things. First, the lack of cut and wire nails in the interior units of 239 Figure 8.14 Charts showing the percentage of nails in Wall, Chimney, and Interior units by nail type and stratigraphic layer. Level 3 demonstrates that the single quarter had dirt floors prior to the introduction of the wire nail in the 1880s. Second, the increase in the presence of cut and wire nails in interior units in Level 2 indicates that wooden floors were added to the single quarter. The presence of cut nails indicates this happened before or during the 1880s, while the presence of wire nails indicates floors were added or modified during or after the 1880s. It is possible that the increase of nails within the interior of the building does not represent wooden floors, and instead relates to the demolition of the quarter. However, written and oral history suggesting wooden floors were added to the duplex make the addition of floors just as likely. With these conclusions, it is reasonable to assume that the single quarter had dirt floors during slavery, that wooden floors were added during the 1860s or 1870s with cut nails, and that these floors were modified, changed, or replaced with wire nails 240 Figure 8.15 Units used to sample window glass sometime after the 1880s. Figure 8.16 Window glass thickness correlated to time of two units along the southern wall of the single quarter. Archaeological evidence around the single and duplex quarters demonstrates glass windows were added to the quarters during this period. Using an algorithm developed by Randall Moir that 241 correlates window glass thickness to time, periods of window installation can be identified through high quantities of window glass of certain thicknesses (Weiland, 2009). High concentrations of window glass appeared along the southern wall of the single quarter, suggesting the presence of a window in that location. Due to the limitations of the stratigraphy for relevant diagnostic material, and the presence of window glass in all three layers, the window glass from units 551B and 582D (Figure 8.15) were measured and plotted using the Moir formula (Weiland, 2009). This formula was chosen Weiland (2009) based on the geographic region and sample size. Based on a histogram of thicknesses as they correspond to time (Figure 8.16), the sample (n=700) shows two distinct concentrations of window glass between 1830-1840 and 1860-1910 (±7 years), with the largest spikes happening in 1834 and 1868. Window glass was not present between 1840 and 1860. Figure 8.17 Window glass thickness correlated to time of Unit 433A at the rear of the duplex quarter. These data suggest a number of findings. First, the quarter was occupied between 1860 and the early 1900s, and it may have been occupied as early as the 1830s. However, the gap from 1840 to 1860s suggests that there was no window glass being added to the quarter, indicating the building was either unoccupied, or did not have glass windows at the time. The highest quantity of glass in the late 1860s indicates that glass windows were added to the structure after the Civil War. The concentration of 1830s glass suggests that these windows may have been salvaged from abandoned buildings, and reused in the single quarter. These windows may have still contained intact panes 242 dating to the 1830s, with contemporary 1860s glass being added. This would explain the presence of 1830s glass, in addition to the absence of window glass dating from the 1840s to the 1860s. Figure 8.18 Window glass thickness correlated to time of Unit 462A at the rear of the duplex quarter. Analysis of the units from directly behind the duplex quarter reveals a slightly different pattern. When examined independently, each unit shows a different accumulation. Unit 433A shows a consistent distribution of window glass from the 1840s to the early 1900s, with only one instance above 8 shards of glass (Figure 8.17). 462A shows even less, with the largest spike in glass counts occurring ca. 1860, with three shards (Figure 8.18). Unit 404D, located directly in the center of the duplex, shows the largest count of glass (n=646), and shows glass during the 1840s peaking at 8 shards, and a much larger spike during the 1860s, peaking at 18 shards, more than was located at the single quarter (Figure 8.19). When the units are combined, the period between 1860 and 1870 shows the strongest appearance of shards, correlating with the pattern at the single quarter (Figure 8.20). While more glass shards appeared during the 1840s and 50s then at the single quarter, the amount is negligible when you consider the number of windows that were being examined: the single quarter accounts for one window, while these three units accounted for four. Therefore, having three times as much window glass is a proportionate ratio. It is also possible that the presence of glass from the 1840s may reflect the installation and reuse of used windows that dated 243 Figure 8.19 Window glass thickness correlated to time from Unit 404D at the rear of the duplex quarter. to that period. This analysis also may indicate that the duplex quarter had glass windows during slavery, although that seems unlikely considering the large peak of glass dating to the 1860s: the installation of new windows at the time of the building’s construction would have left a much larger signature of window glass, since all the window glass would have dated to their time of installation. Figure 8.20 Window glass thickness correlated to time from all units at the rear of the duplex quarter. Photographs dating to the 1890s show the presence of glass windows on the front of the duplex. However, the assemblages of broken glass in those units show glass only dating to the later occupation of the duplex. It is likely that the absence of glass was due to the aforementioned yard 244 sweeping activities by 20th-century inhabitants (Hall, 2013), and that the concentration of early glass accumulated once the duplex was unoccupied. Considering the interior of the single and duplex quarter, it appears enslaved and free African Americans sought to improve their quality of life by using space inside their quarters creatively. The addition of subfloor pits provided laborers with a place to store goods, while their reuse of materials permitted maximum use of space within the quarter. The modification of adding of wooden floors demonstrates a move towards ownership of the interior space. The amount of labor and cost of wooden floors would have been substantial, and suggests that free African Americans were making investments in their homes. The subfloor pits, while a labor-intensive addition, only required labor, not a financial investment: the bricks were reused chapel brick, scavenged from the fields. Enslaved and free African Americans modified their living spaces in a number of ways. Expanding their living space and upgrading the quality of architectural materials improved their quality of life. These actions also aided in redefining these dwellings as homes for enslaved and free laborers, not as places of bondage and captivity. When considered part of the transition from slavery to freedom, a few notable changes occur. Most notable is the nature of the changes that are made to the structures. During slavery, the modifications are minimal. Subfloor pits and swept yards, while significant modifications to the space, are subtle. Subfloor pits remained hidden inside the quarter, while swept yards did not create three dimensional, impermeable boundaries around the yardspace. This contrasts with post-Emancipation changes. The addition of wooden floors, windows, fences, and additional rooms required investments of time and money to upgrade the space. These visible statements modified the buildings in permanent ways that were visible, displaying, as Penningroth would argue, their ownership over the structure and yard. The fence, shown in photographs, creates a physical boundary separating the African American yard from the rest of the plantation. The actions taken by African Americans after slavery regarding modifications to their domestic space overtly demonstrate their newfound control over their space, and their ability to convert it into a meaningful and distinct cultural place. 245 8.2 The Manor Home: Defining Black Spaces within a House of Bondage There are a number of spaces on the plantation where African Americans engaged in labor for John Brome and his family. The manor home has received only limited attention from archaeologists as an area where African Americans worked and lived. In most cases, the assemblages and spaces are interpreted from the perspective of the planter and his family, while in reality these were complex spaces where the planter family and their domestic servants lived and worked in small, intimate spaces. As Fitts and Glymph note, these tight quarters restricted the activities of enslaved laborers and allowed planters to control their movements (Fitts, 1996; Glymph, 2008). They were constantly on notice to serve their masters, and minor mistakes were easily noticed and punished. The manor home was a performative space defined by the constant presence and cooperation of domestic slaves, which often created tension between the plantation’s mistress and the slaves. This tension was heightened by the close quarters of the manor home, a tension mitigated by the othering of domestic slaves and the segregation of space (Fitts, 1996). For the enslaved laborers at the Brome home, this tension restricted their mobility and autonomy, which they regularly met with resistance. It also presented opportunities to claim some autonomy in the places they worked, and to manipulate the proximity of space to improve their community’s quality of life. Considering the geographic position of Brome’s plantation near community institutions such as the Seminary, Church, and Wharf, and his status as a community leader, it is likely that Brome regularly entertained guests at his home. Susannah Brome was charged with ensuring that the household was a model of gentile domesticity, a critical component of the performative landscape discussed in Chapter 7. To fulfill those expectations, she needed the “unending attention of slave women” to carry out the necessary work and performance required to entertain guests (Glymph, 2008, p. 63). As Glymph rightly notes, this reality set the stage for regular conflict within and around the manor home between enslaved women and their mistresses. Glymph highlights numerous instances where the mistress’s efforts to control her domestic slaves were met with uncooperative behavior, such as “laziness,” carrying out tasks poorly, or breaking items that would sabotage the performance of domesticity. These acts of resistance were regularly met with harsh punishment 246 that often included violence, drawing a contradiction to the idealized Southern woman: in some ways, even the act of receiving punishment could be seen as a means of resisting, since it upset these gendered ideals (Glymph, 2008). It is likely that Susannah Brome encountered similar resistance to her efforts at St. Mary’s Manor. Unfortunately, the lack of a historical record makes these moments difficult to identify. The only historical evidence of overt resistance by domestic workers is an oral history account describing Brome’s formerly enslaved cook throwing her set of keys into the St. Mary’s River after emancipation, a clear act of defiance (Miller, 2013). Identifying more subtle resistance such as intentionally breaking objects through the archaeological record is also challenging, since almost all the objects identified are broken household items. It is impossible to determine what was broken intentionally or accidentally. However, since historians have noted that part of resistance of enslaved domestic workers was to, at times, intentionally damage goods, and with the assumption that the cook’s act of overt defiance by publicly throwing her keys into the River reflected a prolonged effort at subversive defiance, it is reasonable to assume that enslaved domestic laborers intentionally broke some portion of the ceramics and table glass identified archaeologically around the manor home. Intentional or not, the destruction of ceramics and glassware may have resulted in punishment: valuable ceramics such as those identified under the porch were an integral part of the performance of domesticity. Susannah Brome enacting punishment for clumsiness, or perceived clumsiness, was a consequence of the high stakes of presenting a socially elite household. Segregation of space also resulted from the tensions inherent in a household reliant on slave labor. For the Bromes, this segregation allowed them limit their need to view enslaved laborers, adopting the ideology of alienation and reestablishing the social hierarchy within the confines of their household. For enslaved laborers, it was an opportunity to appropriate the areas where they worked into their own cultural places. Because domestic slaves managed daily chores of the house, including washing, cooking, cleaning, and serving, the rooms, outbuildings, and spaces dedicated to those functions can be designated as places of black labor. As discussed in Chapter 7, these areas clustered on the east side of the manor home, including the kitchen, work yard, and outbuildings. 247 The dining room served as a middle ground, dominated at times by slaves or Brome’s family depending on the activities taking place. The rest of the house was predominantly a white space, although domestic slaves operated within those areas to carry out their responsibilities. Doors and alternate staircases were used to disguise slaves’ work from the view of the Brome family and their guests. Determining who had power or claimed “ownership” of these black spaces is complex. While Brome’s wife had authority within the manor home, the operation of individual spaces such as the kitchen, carriage house, and work yard were likely overseen by domestic slaves such as the cook or carriage driver. Oral history indicates that Brome’s cook had a great deal of autonomy, demonstrated by her ownership of the keys she threw into the St. Mary’s River after Emancipation (Miller, 2013). Possession of keys demonstrated the access she had to different areas of the house, allowing her to unlock areas that the Bromes otherwise determined to be secret or private. Keys reflected power, access, and ownership. Thavolia Glymph’s research cites one plantation mistress who demonstrated her distrust in her cook by stating that “of course I keep the keys” (Glymph, 2008, p. 85). In this instance, the mistress associates the handling of the keys with power, but also acknowledges that this was a type of access that could be negotiated if she trusted the cook in question. The cook at St. Mary’s Manor must have earned that trust, therefore gaining access. Her act of throwing the keys into the River after Emancipation suggests that trust was not gained through a sense of loyalty, but instead by “playing along” with the performance of domesticity to gain control of spaces within the household. Vlach notes that other enslaved cooks made similar claims over their space: in one instance, an enslaved cook asked a white visitor why he was in her kitchen, asserting her power over and ownership of the space that she worked, and acknowledging his trespassing on a black space (Vlach, 1993). Considering the cook at St. Mary’s Manor was in possession of keys, it is likely the kitchen, work yard, outbuildings, and carriage house were similarly appropriated by enslaved African Americans. Enslaved laborers, therefore, used their importance as part of the Brome’s performative landscape to establish their own cultural places within the manor home. 248 The appropriation of spaces in the manor home by domestic slaves presents a number of new questions about how these spaces were used by the black community. Unfortunately beyond the analysis completed for this project, such questions could inspect these areas as social spaces where blacks traded information, gossip, ate together, played music, or engaged in other social activity. Examining artifacts related to social activity may provide additional insight into how these areas were used by the enslaved community beyond their role as areas of work, and is a future area of inquiry that archaeologists should consider. Because Susannah Brome required the constant presence and attention of domestic slaves to maintain the performance of domesticity, these laborers were in constant contact with her family and their guests. While this proximity was suffocating and controlling, it also presented opportunities for enslaved laborers to gain access to the outside world, either by gathering information through eavesdropping, trading information with the slaves of visitors, or leaving the plantation to run errands or accompany their masters. Once again, these claims are difficult to prove based on the historical or archaeological data alone, and must be inferred based on Brome’s social status and property. Eavesdropping was a standard form of resistance enacted by enslaved domestic servants (Hahn, 2003). The necessarily constant presence of enslaved laborers within the home meant that the planter class had to alienate or “other” slaves to carry on a relatively normal existence (Fitts, 1996). Many planters believed they had earned the trust of their domestic laborers, a belief that left many slaveowners and plantation mistresses confused when their slaves escaped in droves during the Civil War (Fields, 1985). One can imagine the sense of surprise and betrayal the Bromes felt when the cook they had entrusted with keys to their house flung them into the River upon gaining her freedom. Through this trust, domestic slaves overheard information that kept them abreast on issues that would have held important political and social significance to them. Since Brome and his guests were complicit in the establishment of a social landscape that supported slavery, information gathered about new laws, shifts in the political climate, or rumors of uprisings or escaped slaves would be valuable information to the enslaved community. Similarly, information about 249 potentially arriving or departing slaves through the slave trade, or the attitudes and temperaments of certain slaves, or other information regarding Brome’s perception of his workforce would also benefit the enslaved community. Gaining the trust of their owners, as the cook did by gaining access to the keys, provided slaves with information that allowed them to be politically active (Hahn, 2003). Plantation visitors also brought their slaves with them. Domestic slaves often traveled with their owners on vacation, shopping, and business trips (Glymph, 2008). Considering the proximity to the Wharf, it is likely that many of Brome’s out of town guests stayed at the Manor and brought their slaves. This provided another gateway to the outside world, and allowed slaves from different plantations to share information and pass messages between family members separated by abroad marriages. The segregated manor home allowed these interactions to occur within the manor home. The kitchen and the loft space above it, the workyard, and the carriage house provided areas where domestic laborers could interact with visiting slaves while also carrying out their chores. Similarly, Brome’s position of authority in the community, and his position of leadership at the Female Seminary, meant that he to traveled outside the plantation. The entire family would also visit their vacation home at Point Lookout, a trip that undoubtedly included their enslaved laborers. These vacation homes were owned by a number of the St. Mary’s County elite, and created opportunities for enslaved laborers from across the county to meet, socialize, and share information. The social division within manor homes also existed at Trinity Church, another area that the Bromes visited regularly and likely brought their enslaved laborers. Trinity was originally designed as a two-story structure, with balconies built for the enslaved laborers. The segregated space within the church reestablished the social hierarchy of slavery (Fitts, 1996). It also gave enslaved laborers a space within the church to communicate and socialize with each other, building relationships and sharing information beyond their plantation boundaries. The manor home was a complex household that was a heavily contentious, divided, and tense space. Susannah Brome likely had a stressful relationship with her slaves since she relied on them to maintain the performance of domesticity within her home. While the proximity of slave laborers 250 to the Bromes meant that their actions were heavily controlled, the Bromes’ reliance on their slaves, and the importance of maintaining social distance, also presented opportunities to exploit this relationship. Through subtle acts of sabotage, appropriating spaces within and around the manor home, and using their proximity and access as a means of gaining information and networking with their community off the plantation, enslaved laborers were able to turn a potentially dangerous landscape into a place that provided benefits to the enslaved community. After Emancipation, the tension within the house changed. Domestic servants were no longer required to live in the manor home, a pattern that Glymph noted. At St. Mary’s Manor this is clear in the census records: no African Americans were listed in Brome’s house in the 1870 or 1880 census. The 1870 census does list domestic servants in neighboring homes, indicating that they had moved out of the manor home (United States Census Bureau, 1870b, 1880b). Nonetheless, black domestic servants still worked in the manor home, but were able to create separation after their workday. Similarly, their crafts and skills were recognized through compensation, providing them with additional avenues for independence. Similarly, the ways blacks co-opted spaces in the manor home diminished in importance after Emancipation. African Americans could freely travel about the landscape, visit their friends and communities on their own time, and gather information independent of Brome and his family. Freedom, in many ways, meant that places of subversion such as the manor home became more predominantly areas of work instead of spaces that had to be reused to compensate for lack of freedom. 8.3 The Wilderness: Nutrition, Escape, and Community Enslaved and free African Americans used other spaces on the plantation that were typically not part of the white landscape. Large plantations included areas of undeveloped and uncultivated land that included valleys, ravines, rivers, swamps, forests, and other areas. These secluded areas were typically unused by white planters, and often set aside as future agricultural land, meaning that they provided ideal spaces for African American slaves to supplement their diets, find medicinal products, carry out private ceremonies or gatherings within their own plantation community or with 251 those from other plantations, and to hide or run away from their owners (Battle-Baptiste, 2011). At St. Mary’s Manor, these areas were abundant. Brome kept approximately two-thirds of his total acreage uncultivated in 1850 and 1860, meaning there were at least 1,000 acres of land that included water, forest, swamps, and ravines. The 100 acres of the plantation’s built environment also included a diversity of environmental features, which Brome and the enslaved used for a variety of purposes. The St. Mary’s River, the Vale Ravine, and Key Swamp were the most evident features on the landscape. Brome used these features for his own purposes: the River provided access to markets for his agricultural goods, the Vale separated his manor home from the duplex and single quarters, while his placement of the slave quarter row along Key Swamp associated his slaves with the worst agricultural land on the property. The enslaved community, however, appropriated these spaces for their own purposes. Examining the environmental features on the landscape, archaeological survey conducted in the Vale and Key Swamp, and assemblages of riverine artifacts at the single and duplex quarter can provide insight into the ways that enslaved African Americans may have manipulated the wilderness to their own benefit. 8.3.1 The St. Mary’s River The positioning of the duplex and single quarter on the banks of the St. Mary’s River provided slaves with unfettered access to the water and its abundant natural resources. Depending on the tides, they had access to a private beach that was a prime location for fishing, crabbing, and oystering. Examining faunal remains and fishing related artifacts such as fishhooks and weights can determine the possibility of slaves’ use of the River. The stratigraphy makes it difficult to determine the precise dates that these artifacts were used. Nonetheless, seven fishhooks, four fishing weights, and a fishing reel were discovered in Layers 2 and 3. Of these 12 items, 11 were located near the single quarter. Three of them, a hook and two weights, were in Layer 3, while a fourth item, a straight pin bent into fishhook, may have been used by slaves. An assemblage from Unit 528A, one of the few units that has more refined, intact stratigraphy separating an earlier and later period of the 19th century, also indicates the use of the River 252 for fishing. The presence of “bottom feeder” fish such as Toad Fish indicates the enslaved were supplementing their diets by fishing, rather than receiving their entire ration from the manor home (Miller, 2013). Fishing was an instrumental component of the enslaved African American diet, particularly in Maryland. Culinary historian Michael Twitty notes a variety of instances where access to waterways such as the Chesapeake Bay and its various tributaries made fish a critical component of enslaved African American cuisine (Twitty, 2010). Considering their proximity to the River, fishing would have provided essential nutrients and protein for enslaved laborers. Oysters were another source of food for enslaved African Americans. Oyster shells are ubiquitous at the site, and the complicated stratigraphy, lack of 19th-century features, and the multiple occupations at the site again make identifying specific use by the enslaved difficult. Unit 528A includes 3871 pieces of oyster in the layer representing the early part of the 19th century, accounting for the largest stratigraphic accumulation of oyster shell on the entire site. While no tools such as tongs were identified on the site, the presence of this large quantity of oyster shell, and the proximity to the River, clearly indicate that the enslaved used the River to supplement their diets. Oysters were a critical component of the African American diet in Maryland due to their ubiquity. In addition to supplementing their diets, Maryland slaves also sold oysters at markets and to travelers (Penningroth, 2003; Twitty, 2010). Considering the proximity to Trinity Church, the Female Seminary, and the steamships docking at Brome’s Wharf, it is likely that Brome’s slaves cooked and sold oysters to individuals outside the plantation when the opportunity emerged. Archaeological evidence also indicates that the enslaved may have had access to watercraft. Archaeological survey of the St. Mary’s River coastline conducted by James Embrey in 1996 revealed the presence of a 19th-century skiff. The skiff was located approximately 50 feet south of the mouth of Key Swamp. The boat measured 10 feet seven inches in length. However, the bow was missing, indicating that the boat likely measured 11 feet 3 inches, and was 8 inches deep. It had no keel, and the wooden planks on the ship’s bottom were nailed directly to its sides and transom. Machine cut nail holes were identified, since no metal remained, indicating that the boat was built during the 19th century (Embrey, 1998). 253 It is impossible to determine if this boat was used during or after slavery, since there are no other artifacts associated with its discovery. Its location suggests use by African Americans, although for what purpose is difficult to determine. Spatially, the nearest inhabitants were the individuals who lived in the slave quarter: boats used by the Bromes or other whites would have been associated with the Wharf area. Its location in a secluded area, far from the presence of Brome’s watchful eye, would have allowed enslaved or free African Americans access without being disturbed. The construction of the boat likens itself to craft assembled by someone with lesser means, as indicated by its small size, and the nailing of the planks to the sides and transom. The historical record does indicate that enslaved blacks in Maryland regularly participated in fishing, crabbing, and oystering, processes that required access to the water, and other archaeological examples of slave boats have been discovered in Maryland (Tucker, 2009). Frederick Douglass mentions the use of “little canoes” by enslaved laborers to access oyster beds, and the presence of fish, oyster, and crab remains at the single and duplex quarter suggest that enslaved African Americans may have used this skiff as a means of accessing the St. Mary’s River and the food available within it (Twitty, 2010; Douglass, 1845, p. 58-59). Evidence of oystering and crabbing is apparent at the duplex and single quarters in some postslavery contexts. The subfloor pit located in the duplex quarter includes a number of crab remains among the pit’s fill. The fill itself has a TPQ of 1915, provided by a piece of Ball canning jar, meaning that the early 20th-century inhabitants had dumped refuse into the pit. The presence of crab suggests the use of the river for crabbing. Unit 528 also includes a deposit dating to the late 19th and early 20th century, and provides one of few dateable contexts. The layer is predominantly filled with oyster shell, as well as coins dating to 1864 and 1881. The heavy concentration of oyster shell indicates inhabitants were using the river extensively to supplement their diet. It is also likely that oysters were sold locally. The presence of the Female Seminary, Wharf, and Trinity Church would have provided ready markets for the sale of such goods. If this boat and other fishing related artifacts are considered part of the post-slavery era, then they carry an additionally important meaning. In Maryland particularly, marine resources were 254 integral to the income of many African Americans. The ability to use small watercraft to fish, crab, and oyster in the Chesapeake and its tributaries allowed many African Americans to develop economic independence, or to supplement their farming proceeds. This supplemental income could be integral to ensuring that sharecroppers stayed out of debt to their landlords. Even children used the waterways to earn money: Emma Hall noted that the money she used to purchase school clothes came from her childhood summer crabbing efforts in the River, perhaps explaining some of the crab pieces found in the subfloor pit (Hall and Hall, 2011). The natural areas of the water, therefore, provided a critical economic resource for African Americans. 8.3.2 Key Swamp Enslaved African Americans may have also accessed the Key Swamp. The Swamp’s location and its geography provided an excellent space for enslaved African Americans to hide. Located behind the slave quarters, the Swamp separated them from the view of Brome and his overseers (Delle, 1999). The deep ravine created by the swamp would have hidden any activities taking place in it. In 1990, HSMC conducted STP survey on the westernmost portion of the ravine, focusing their efforts on the northern embankment. One hundred and sixty STPs were excavated in 20-foot intervals. The artifacts clustered in the northeastern part of the survey area, but did not appear in significant amounts to warrant the identification of an archaeological component (Miller et al., 2006). It is unlikely, however, that the types of activities carried out in the ravine would have left a significant archaeological signature that would have registered on a STP survey at this resolution. Additionally, portions of the ravine were left unexcavated, such as the areas further east, further down the embankment, or on the southern embankment. The artifacts identified date to the 19th century. Two white ware and one pearlware ceramic sherds, eight bottle glass shards, one lamp glass shard, and two cut nails indicate a mid-19th century artifact scatter (Miller et al., 2006). What is peculiar about this scatter is its limited quantity: one would expect a ravine located in proximity to domestic sites to have been used for refuse disposal, an archaeological signature that would have registered at this scale of survey resolution. 255 While the lack of evidence may mean that the area was not used at all, it is also possible that the ravine served a different purpose for enslaved African Americans. Activities such as hiding stolen goods, sheltering escaped slaves, or practicing private religious ceremonies would have had small artifact signatures considering the enslaved intended them to be inconspicuous. The presence of a lamp glass shard indicates that this area may have been visited under darkness, with the small artifact scatter being representative of clandestine activities. Additional archaeological survey at a finer resolution, and a lower expectation of the density of concentrations, would be necessary to determine the potential function of these areas for enslaved African Americans. Also, widening the surveyed area to extend deeper into the ravine and include the opposite bank would ensure inclusion of the entire area. The need for these spaces for clandestine activities diminished after slavery. No archaeological or historical evidence exists of the ravines being used after Emancipation by African American laborers. This may be a result of the scope of the survey conducted in Key Swamp, or due to the historical reality that the activities that required these hidden spaces were no longer necessary. Hiding escaped slaves, practicing religious ceremonies, or hiding stolen goods from an owner was no longer a necessary element of African American life after the abolishment of slavery, meaning that these once important plantation spaces fell out of use for these activities. 8.3.3 Mattapany Path Use of the wilderness may also have helped disconnected families maintain contact or facilitated the escape of slaves from the plantation. Historians have noted that enslaved families maintained connections by occasionally visiting other plantations, often accessed by routes different then the roads used by whites to maintain secrecy, but also to avoid potentially dangerous confrontations (Upton, 1990). These paths were created through the wilderness, where enslaved laborers, families, and communities would congregate (Boroughs, 2013). While some archaeologists have identified these paths by deciphering relationships between enslaved communities through historical documents, identifying these routes archaeologically has been a difficult process. At St. Mary’s 256 City, however, it is possible that enslaved laborers used abandoned colonial roads as a means of accessing different areas outside the plantation. Figure 8.21 This LiDar image of St. Mary’s City shows the Mattapany Path, highlighted in yellow, north of St. Mary’s College. Mattapany Path was a critical colonial artery from St. Mary’s City to the northern part of the County. Its primary function was to connect the northern part of the county to the state Capitol, and it gradually fell into disuse after St. Mary’s City was abandoned. By the 19th century, Mattapany Path appears to have dropped out of popular use (Himmelheber, 2013). Historical research has traced points where Mattapany Path was identified in 17th century land patents, tracing the northern portion of the road. LiDAR projections clearly identify the southern portion of the path as it approaches St. Mary’s City (Figure 8.21), and a walking survey indicates the deep ravines created by the centuries of heavy use (Himmelheber, 2013). The remains of this road during the 19th257 century would have extended from Brome’s property to other plantations located to the north, and provided an ideally secluded path for enslaved laborers to access. There is evidence to suggest this path was used well into the 20th century by African American residents at St. Mary’s Manor. Emma Hall states that she walked to church through the woods as a child, a three-mile journey, accompanied along the way by more children and other families. It is quite likely that Hall used this path to walk to Church. She noted that they tried to avoid the public roads to avoid potentially racist encounters (Hall and Hall, 2011; Hall, 2013). Despite the end of slavery 80 years prior, racism still resulted in the African American community traversing the landscape in alternative ways. Her church, Zion’s Fair Methodist Episcopal Chapel, was located on Hermanville Road, a road bisected by the historic Mattapany Path. This same area is currently the location of an African American community, which likely emerged after slavery, coalescing around the church and a major African American thoroughfare (Himmelheber, 2013). Further analysis of this possible route for accessing areas off the plantation should be carried out. Fully mapping Mattapany Path would provide insight into the actual location of the road, while an analysis of 19th century properties located along that route could provide insight into the social networks and neighborhoods developed by enslaved laborers in St. Mary’s County during this period. Conducting archaeological survey and collecting oral histories about the community at Park Hall would also provide additional evidence of how this road was used during the 19th century. While the historical evidence would be scant, this potential artery through the heart of St. Mary’s County could have also provided an ideal route for escaping slaves, since it provided a discrete path from the southern part of the County to the northern end. Accessing the wilderness extended the enslaved landscape and provided opportunities for enslaved laborers to more effectively survive their bondage. Access to waterways meant access to fish, crabs, and oysters, which could supplement their diets and provide a potential, although meager, source of income. The direct access to the St. Mary’s River for the enslaved laborers, the presence of fish hooks, oyster shell, and fish bones, and the presence of a skiff along the shore all indicate that the River played an important part in the enslaved community’s daily life. Access to 258 the water meant opportunities for expanding their lived experiences. Similarly, areas such as Key Swamp permitted space for private or clandestine activities. While additional analysis of this area must be conducted to draw stronger conclusions, the geography of the Swamp, its spatial location, and its unique artifact signature suggest its potential as an area where enslaved laborers could gain privacy. Lastly, the abandoned Mattapany Path created opportunities for enslaved laborers to access the world outside the plantation, to visit families divided by the slave trade, and to help slaves escape from the southern part of the county to the northern. The wilderness was a pivotal component of the enslaved landscape, and archaeologists need to begin appreciating its importance to the enslaved community. Doing so will require a unique approach to examining archaeological data and historical documents to investigate these questions further. For African Americans who lived at St. Mary’s Manor, areas of wilderness became important for different reasons. Instead of using the wilderness as a clandestine, subversive space, the wilderness became an opportunity to establish financial independence. Using the waterways was a critical means of supplementing farming income, and avoiding debt. In other cases, the use of wilderness areas such as the Key Swamp fell out of use, as the activities that were conducted there moved to new regional scales or were no longer necessary with the ending of slavery. When moving outside the domestic area, however, the wilderness continued to serve important functions. Mattapany Path appears to have maintained its functionality as an alternative transportation route to access community spaces and to avoid the racism that continued to be pervasive in St. Mary’s County. 8.4 Reuse and Redefinition of Plantation Space One critical element of examining any cultural landscape is understanding how different groups used and interpretted space in different ways, depending on their context. At St. Mary’s Manor, enslaved and free African Americans who lived and worked on the plantation used and defined spaces in distinct ways that at times stood in opposition to Brome’s intentions. This negotiation of space is manifest in the material record. Enslaved laborers used more covert means to improve 259 their quality of life. For example, modifying interior features of their dwellings through subfloor pits was a secretive, discrete way to increase the amount of space for storage within their homes, while yard sweeping expanded the domestic space into the yard through a culturally distinct, but not overtly segregated, means of modifying space. The use of the manor home required enslaved domestic laborers to delicately manage their relationships with the Brome’s to gain trust, and therefore access, to certain spaces within the house. This, then, afforded them opportunities to reuse those spaces for their own purposes. Similarly, the areas of the wilderness became areas of covert resistance through secret meetings or hiding runaways, while the River provided opportunities to supplement their diet. After slavery, however, African Americans gained more power over certain plantation spaces, were able to create distance from areas of oppression, and could reuse spaces for different purposes. The dwelling marks the most overt transition in the approach to claiming place: the addition of wooden floors, glass windows, fences, and additional rooms served as permanent, visual evidence of their ownership of their home. Fences created firm boundaries around the yard to ensure their independence was acknowledged. Similarly, domestic servants moved out of the manor home, and lived independently from the Bromes. The wilderness also served as a space to ensure independence and distance: access to the River meant the opportunity to avoid financial debt, while the Mattapany Path offered a route off the plantation to community spaces like churches that avoided the potential for racist and oppressive interactions. By creatively and more overtly claiming these spaces on the plantation as independent places, African Americans were able to assert and define their newfound freedom. 260 CHAPTER 9 THE AFRICAN AMERICAN PLANTATION: FROM COMMUNITY TO FAMILY For decades, archaeologists have addressed the archaeology of slavery through the excavations of slave dwellings. This has led to an interest in understanding the makeup of the dwelling, the enslaved family, and the concept of an African American household. The historical and archaeological research has come to multiple conclusions about the enslaved family and household: namely, that enslaved populations were made up of multiple families and individuals, that those families were regularly divided by the slave trade. Therefore, while the slave family benefited the slaveowner by reducing runaways and increasing slaveholdings, they were not ideal units for the enslaved to mitigate the constraints of slavery. Instead, this required the creation of multi-family, multi-dwelling, cooperative households to share the activities of production, household chores, and child rearing. What few scholars have addressed, however, is how these households may have changed after Emancipation, when the slave trade no longer interfered with the formation of the African American family, and new economic relationships between the planter and African American family began to emerge. This chapter will examine this transition, looking at the African American family and household at St. Mary’s Manor during and after slavery. 261 9.1 The Slave Trade and the Enslaved Household By the 19th century, most slave owners throughout the South housed their slaves in smaller, “family-sized” dwellings. This was the result of a transition from larger dormitory style housing that occurred during the late 18th century, a strategy employed by slaveowners to encourage the growth of slave families, assuming that this would increase the natural increase of their enslaved property and reduce the amount of runaways (Heath, 2012). Archaeologists have examined this transition in Virginia, identifying archaeological signatures for the transition and developing models to decipher why these changes occurred (Fesler, 2004; Neiman, 2008; Heath, 2012). Of particular interest to these researchers was the changing size of slave dwellings, and the number of subfloor pits within the buildings. Archaeologists have argued that subfloor pits served as evidence of the modification of slave dwellings by enslaved laborers to improve their quality of life as storage pits, personal “storage lockers,” and shrines (Fesler, 2004; Neiman, 2008; Samford, 2007). Neiman and Fesler noted that, as the the dwellings got smaller, fewer subfloor pits existed within the footprint of the building. This change was attributed to a transition of the dwelling’s coresident group from unrelated individuals to families, with the assumption that enslaved laborers would be more likely to share one storage pit with family members. Such analyses, therefore, tend to associate the space of a dwelling with a singular family. It does not, however, address the function of these dwellings and families in the context of households. Other scholars and historians have argued that the reality of the slave trade meant that a single family could not serve as the sole representative of a household. Instead, the household had to be comprised of “multiple family cooperative domestic exchanges,” where multiple families living in multiple dwellings worked together to carry out the tasks of running a household (BattleBaptiste, 2011). Archaeologists have used spatial analysis to demonstrate this use of household space. Baptiste argues that a cooking pit, centrally located among slave dwellings, indicate that these dwellings shared the tasks of a household (Battle-Baptiste, 2011). Heath examines a complex of three quarters, one a duplex, and notes their proximity and the use of fences as a means of defining a shared yardspace, suggesting a shared workyard for a single quarter and a duplex (Heath, 262 2012). This alignment, Heath argues, suggests a cooperative household between these dwellings. The following analysis will interrogate the tension between coresident groups, dwellings, and households that existed on the plantation during slavery by examining the plantation landscape, the enslaved dwellings, and the population of enslaved laborers who lived on the plantation. Using multiple scales of analysis, these questions can be considered in a new context: a mid-19th century Maryland plantation that is actively engaged in the slave trade. Because of this, one would expect the slave trade to have an even larger effect on the enslaved family. 9.1.1 Enslaved Families and Dwellings To examine how or if families were organized on the plantation, the architecture and presence of subfloor pits of the single and duplex quarter will be considered in the context of models presented by Fesler and Neiman to gauge the likelihood of families living on the plantation. The historical record will provide a deeper look at the enslaved population at St. Mary’s Manor and how the slave trade affected its organization. In particular, the 1850 and 1860 Slave Schedules and the 1867 List will be examined (United States Census Bureau, 1850c, 1860c; Dent, 1867). The living areas of each pen in the duplex and single quarter conform to the expected square footage of a dwelling designed for single families. The duplex measured 17 ft. 8 in. by 36 ft. 9 in., a total square footage of 646 feet, or 323 feet per living space. The single quarter measured 17 ft. by 15 ft., for 255 square feet of living space. Both the single and duplex quarters have subfloor pits. At the duplex quarter, a brick and tin-lined subfloor pit was discovered in one of the alcoves located next to the central chimney (Figure 9.2). Discussed in detail in Chapter 8, the pit was likely an addition made by enslaved laborers, and was not filled until the 20th century. No pit was discovered in the other half of the duplex, although the entire interior of the structure was not excavated, including areas directly in front of the chimney, leaving the possibility that another pit may have existed. A second brick-lined subfloor pit was located in the center of the single quarter, oriented in front of the hearth (Figure 9.3). The pit was unexcavated, leaving no evidence to suggest when it was constructed or filled, although window glass on the top of the pit 263 Figure 9.1 The single and duplex quarter ca. 1890s. fill indicates it was also filled during the early 20th century. This evidence conforms to quarters examined by archaeologists in late-18th and early 19thcentury Virginia, suggesting that they may have housed families. However, the context of mid19th century Maryland must inform the interpretation of these spaces. For many slaveowners in Maryland, the 19th-century marked the transition from tobacco to wheat, and a large decrease in the amount of enslaved laborers (Fields, 1985). Historical evidence indicates that Brome was heavily involved in the slave trade, both as a buyer and seller of enslaved African Americans (See Chapter 7). The benefit of the historical record may provide more details as to how this involvement affected the way that enslaved household spaces were organized, and whether or not these quarters should be described as family dwellings. A number of nuclear families existed on the plantation (Dent, 1867). Based on the names and ages of individuals listed in the 1867 List and their relation to each other on the document, and using the 1870 Census to examine comparisons in family structures, an estimate of the families 264 Figure 9.2 A map of the duplex quarter with excavation units and features and the subfloor pit highlighted. and generations can be visualized (Figure 9.4, Appendix ?? and ??). The largest family was the Biscoes, consisting of 22 members. The oldest generation included brother and sister Maria (55) and Peter Biscoe (65), and Peter’s wife, Fannie (55). Maria had two sons, John (40) and Nace (30). Tom had two daughters, Ada (22) and Maria (18). These relations were determined based on the fact that Maria, John, Maria, and Ada all escaped in August 1863, and Nace, listed directly after his mother, escaped in February 1862. Peter and Fannie had at least three children, Lott (35), Charles (28) and Tildy (27). Lott had a family that was listed on the 1870 census, including his wife Henny (30) and young children Julia, Henry, Dollie, and Henrietta. Charles was listed in 265 Figure 9.3 Map of the single quarter foundation showing the subfloor pit outline in the center of the structure. 1870 as married to a woman not listed on the 1867 List, indicating it was an abroad marriage. His children in 1870 likely resided with his wife on another plantation, since they are not listed on the 1867 List. Tildy does not have a comparably aged partner on the 1867 List and is not listed on the 1870 Census, but likely had at least three children: Grace, Philo, and Becky. Grace and Becky are listed in 1870 living with their grandfather, Peter. Four other Biscoes, Lottie (19), Ned (21), Jack (21), and Hillary (17) are all too old to be children of the second generation, but to young to be children of the first. Ned, Jack and Hillary also appear on the 1870 Census living together, 266 Figure 9.4 Related family units based on the 1867 List and 1870 Census. suggesting they may be brothers. It is possible that they are grandchildren of Peter and Fannie, and that their parent was not counted on either list, and may have been sold. The makeup of this extended family, therefore, demonstrates the complexity of the family relationships that existed on the plantation: even multi-generational families dealt with abroad marriages and displaced children and faced the uncertainty of sale. Other nuclear families lived on the plantation. Ralph (30) and Eliza (30) Butler had six children. Peter (30) and Harriet (22) Gough had five children. Peter also had a brother, Alex (25), who enlisted in the Union Army during the Civil War. The Whalen family consisted of George (40) and Mary (30) and their six children. These families were also all found on the 1870 census living on the plantation. Other families on the plantation, however, are not multi-generational or nuclear. Matilda Hopewell (25) had a single daughter, and Elizabeth White (28) had a daughter and a son. Neither had husbands on the plantation. Other couples had no children, such as Sarah Jane (21) and William (25) Gross or Hilly (20) and George (18) Dyson. The Gross’s are likely brother and sister: 267 William joined the Union Army and his pension record indicates he was unmarried upon enlistment (United States Department of Veteran Affairs, 1910). William, who had attempted escape in 1861, was listed in a runaway advertisement as having a wife on another plantation (Figure 9.5), while his mother, Sallie (62) lived on Brome’s plantation. Others did not have any relations on the plantation: Hiram Bennett (55), Jacob Clarke (44), John Neale (4), Abraham Lloyd (44), Zora Campbell (27), Thomas Whalte (80), Lewis Lacy (16), Richard Hornbo (44), and Henry Lee (13) all appear on the 1867 list without parents, spouses, or children. These small, divided families and individuals are likely the product of the slave trade, particularly those men and women under thirty. Older individuals such as Hiram Bennett, Jacob Clarke, Abraham Lloyd, and Richard Hornbo may have had particular skills that maintained their value and usefulness beyond the standard age of a field laborer. However, even the nuclear and multi-generational families were impacted by the slave trade. The 1867 List only provides a snapshot of the Civil War, and does not provide a full picture of how the enslaved community changed over time. Brome’s participation in the slave trade, as discussed in Chapter 7, shows a great deal of individuals leaving and arriving on the plantation. Between 1850 and 1860, twenty slaves were removed from the plantation (See Table 7.3). While some of those who left the plantation can be attributed to death or runaways, 43 percent of those slaves were between the ages of 10 and 35, with an additional 19 percent under the age of 10. Similarly, 36 slaves were added to the plantation. While 20 of those individuals are under the age of 10, and therefore born on the plantation, 14 of the remaining 16 were between the ages of 10 and 35 in 1860. This rate of turnover threatened the stability of the family. This would would have required a social organization and strategy that was flexible and able to withstand loss and absorb new members, and would have greatly complicated the composition of coresidential units. A number of slaves living on the plantation were part of abroad marriages. By 1870 Hiram Bennett and Charles Biscoe each had wives and children who were not listed on the 1867 List and had children who had been born before Emancipation, indicating that they had been married during slavery (United States Census Bureau, 1870b). In a slave runaway ad for William Walthon 268 (Figure 9.5), Brome mentioned that Walthon’s wife lived in the Factory District, while John Biscoe has children listed on the plantation but no wife (Brome, 1861). It is also possible that Elizabeth White and Matilda Hopewell were part of abroad marriages, as were Maria and Tildy Biscoe: their children had fathers, but they do not share a last name with anyone on the plantation during the Civil War, and they are unidentified on the 1870 Census. Their husbands likely lived on another plantation. Other families listed in 1870 include children that would have been alive during the Civil War, but were not on the 1867 List. At least Ruth Butler (10), Aaron Whalen (14), and Margaret Gough (10) were old enough to appear on the 1867 List. It is likely that these children had been traded to local plantations or separated through the slave trade, and then reunited with their families after Emancipation. These divided families also complicate the association of a dwelling with single families, since many of these divided families and individuals would have to live with unrelated members of the community. Figure 9.5 A slave runaway advertisement written by Brome in 1861. Considering the enslaved population and the available households on the landscape in 1860, it 269 would be impossible for each family to have its own dwelling. The 1860 slave schedule states that Brome had seven slave houses (United States Census Bureau, 1860b). Along with the duplexes and loft space above the manor home kitchen, there were at least ten family sized units on the plantation in 1860, accommodating Brome’s 58 slaves and his mother’s four, an average of six to seven individuals per dwelling. However, there were not enough family sized spaces to account for the number of independent families on the plantation. Unmarried or unrelated individuals would have had to share dwellings with each other or with unrelated families, making for a large variety of coresident groups. Alexander Gough and Charles and Peter Biscoe would have likely lived with their extended family. Single mothers like Matilda Hopewell and Elizabeth White would have lived with other members of the community, as would the Dyson and Gross families and the individuals who had no other relatives on the plantation. There were not enough quarters to provide a separate dwelling for every group of people who had a separate last name. Despite Brome’s emphasis on family-sized dwellings, the reality was that these buildings were just as often, if not more often, representative of a combination of nuclear families, related kin, and unrelated individuals and children as they were of nuclear families. And if they were not, they always ran the risk of being divided through Brome’s participation in the slave trade. This evidence makes it difficult to associate separate dwellings as family spaces, despite their dimensions and the presence of singular subfloor pits. Brome’s participation in the slave trade meant that coresidential groups had to be able to include members of extended families, nuclear families, multiple families, or individuals. Even though large dormitory spaces had fallen outside normal practice, by the mid-19th century interpreting a single subfloor pit as a defining a dwelling as being comprised of a single kin group does not adequately represent the complexity of the enslaved population. While this may have been a reality in the late 18th and early 19th century in Virginia, the reality of the slave trade in Maryland by the mid-19th century does not allow for the variability present in the historical record. Instead, coresident groups were flexible units that had to be able to incorporate new members at any moment. 270 This complexity translates into the discussion of the enslaved household. The concept of multifamily, multi-dwelling households presented by scholars should be careful to ensure that each family does not necessarily equate a dwelling, since a dwelling itself could include multiple families or unrelated groups. Adopting a concept of a flexible household, where membership can include a variety of coresidential groups and multiple dwellings, ensures that the complexity and the malleability required by these households to accommodate the addition or subtraction of its members at any moment. 9.1.2 The Flexible Household Identifying shared activity areas in the yardspace should determine if multiple dwellings made up an enslaved household. Scholars have argued that, due to the cramped interior spaces of the slave quarters, most social and household activities took place outdoors (Morgan, 1998; Penningroth, 2003; Heath and Bennett, 2000). The proximity of the single and duplex quarter, two dwellings that reflect three enslaved living units, provide an opportunity to identify these areas. This will be approached in two ways: by identifying fence lines that may identify shared spaces, and revisiting the distribution analysis conducted in Chapter 8 to determine if the swept yards and other areas of high ceramic distribution may reveal shared activity areas. Heath’s analysis of the yardspace at Poplar Forest, for example, examined the location of a duplex and single quarter that had created a shared yardspace through a fenceline that incorporated both households (Heath, 2012). If these dwellings operated as a single household, then similar patterns should be evident at the single and duplex quarters. While a number of post holes were identified in the rear yard, none of them were excavated, making it difficult to determine when they were in use. Additionally, no postholes appear in the few excavation units located behind the duplex quarter, making the identification of shared space difficult. Photographs from the 1890s and 1910s show evidence of fences in the front and rear yards of both quarters, showing the use of fences in the post-Emancipation period (See Figures 9.1 and 9.7). Oral history from 20th century residents also indicates that there were livestock pens in the rear 271 Figure 9.6 Fenclines in the rear yard show very little discernible pattern. A possible sketch of a fence line is shown, perhaps demarcating a rear fence and pen for livestock. yard (Hall and Hall, 2011), and one possible projection in Figure 9.6 indicates that an enclosed space could be contrived. The lack of cohesiveness with the pen and single quarter suggests that these fence posts may have been incorporated after the single quarter was removed. Determining their use during slavery, however, is more challenging without a more substantial archaeological record. Because of this, there is not enough evidence to draw a conclusion about the use of fences to create shared yardspaces. Excavating additional units to identify the extent of these fence lines, and to conduct excavations of the posthole features to determine the period of time these features 272 were constructed would aid considerably in the ability to draw a conclusion. Figure 9.7 Photograph of the duplex quarter ca. 1910s with fences in the front and rear yard. Identifying shared activity areas through artifact distributions across the site could also indicate a multi-dwelling household. At St. Mary’s City, archaeologists have examined the locations of large concentrations of diagnostic artifacts from the 17th century to determine the changing locations of middens and cleared yardspace through time, with the expectation that areas without middens were likely active yardspaces (King and Miller, 1987). A similar analysis will be conducted here, with the assumption that cleared yardspaces located in between or connecting the single and duplex indicate shared activity areas. This analysis will reuse the distribution maps of ceramics from Chapter 8 to determine if the swept yards and disposal patterns identified indicate the use of shared space between the residents of the single and duplex quarters. As determined in Chapter 8, swept yards were visible in the front yard of the single and duplex quarter, and that this swept space spread between the two quarters both during and after slavery (Figure 9.8). This suggests a shared front yard, where inhabitants of both quarters may have socialized, carried out household tasks, raised children, or engaged in other activities together in their expanded social space. The white ware does not show this pattern, with a division between the two yards (Figure 9.10). However, the post-Civil War ceramic distribution shows similar patterning as the pre Civil War ceramics, suggesting that this white ware concentration relates to the 20th 273 Figure 9.8 Distribution of decorated ceramics dating to before 1865. century occupation, when the single quarter was not on the landscape (Figure 9.9). The rear yards show a different pattern in the decorated pre Civil War ceramics and the white ware concentrations. The area between the two quarters shows a high accumulation of ceramics, suggesting that this was not an active social area, but instead an area where debris and goods were discarded. This pattern continues in the post Civil War ceramic distribution and the white ware distributions, indicating that the use of this space did not change, and was a common refuse area for the residents of both quarters. Another pre-Civil War refuse area lay behind the single quarter chimney, a concentration that appears in the white ware distribution and that moves away from the chimney after the Civil War. This use of the northern yardspace for refuse disposal is understandable, as it was the closest to the manor home: using this area for social and household activity 274 Figure 9.9 Distribution of decorated ceramics dating to after 1865. would have exposed it to the constant surveillance of Brome and his family. The photograph from 1892, taken after a series of photos taken behind the Brome’s home, indicate that the chimney end of the single quarter was visible from the house (Figure 9.11). Another reason for using this area is that it is not located near another dwelling, and therefore not interfering with a potential shared space for household activities. The use of the yard space, therefore, was flexible. The front yard may have acted as a social space that was shared by residents of the single and duplex quarter. The rear yard, however, appears to be more segregated, divided by a collection of refuse, giving household members more independent spaces. However, one could also interpret the disposal area between the two quarters in the rear yard as a shared refuse area. Of little doubt was the separation that the enslaved attempted to 275 Figure 9.10 Distribution of white ware ceramics. make with the residents of the Brome house by using the area behind the single quarter’s chimney as a disposal area. Examining the household makeup during slavery at St. Mary’s Manor suggests that the enslaved had to adopt a flexible system of social organization within the household space. Brome’s active participation in the slave trade, and its result in potential and actual divided families, expands the interpretation of enslaved coresident groups to incorporate a number of different family and social units. While the presence of one subfloor pit per dwelling may indicate the presence of a single family in a single dwelling, the reality is that the slave trade makes this interpretation too simplistic, particularly at a plantation that was as active in the slave trade as St. Mary’s Manor. In reality, the household, and the coresident groups and dwellings that made them up, was a flexible 276 Figure 9.11 This photograph was taken from the rear yard of the manor home, showing the visibility of the single quarter’s chimney. space that had to be malleable depending on the context. The yardspace reflects this flexibility, as different areas of the yard reflect communal and family use of space. Of particular note is the effect of these households on the broader plantation landscape. When one considers this scale of analysis, it is likely that a number of flexible households existed at St. Mary’s Manor. The duplex and single quarter represent one of the many possible combinations of dwellings that were present on the landscape, comprised of the 10 living spaces on the plantation. It is likely that geographic proximity influenced the formation of these households. This also important because it indicates the presence of an enslaved plantation community at St. Mary’s Manor, where these different households likely came together and bonded through their shared experience as African Americans and enslaved laborers of Brome. This community also shared the tasks of labor on the plantation, working the fields and tending to the Brome manor home. In many ways, these households were part of the larger plantation household. While they did not necessarily share the household tasks discussed earlier, this broader community served important functions for its members. This will be examined in more detail in Chapter 10. 277 9.2 From a Flexible Household to a Family Household: Emancipation and Freedom after the Civil War The plantation landscape at St. Mary’s Manor after the Civil War reflects multiple shifts in the alignment and makeup of African American dwellings. In 1870, new dwellings appear, representing Brome’s push to regain the capital he lost during the War and his experiment with sharecropping. By 1880, the number of dwellings decreased significantly as Brome moved towards more efficient forms of agriculture and reduced his dependence on black labor. These changes, however, reflected more then Brome’s actions as a plantation owner, but also reflected the newfound freedoms gained by African Americans. These freedoms dramatically changed the African American household, and point towards a transition to a single-family, single-dwelling alignment. Three factors likely influenced this transition. First, sharecropping realigned the burden of production from the enslaved community to the African American family. Second, the end of the slave trade and the freedom of mobility allowed African American families to live as coresident groups, not separated across different plantations. Third, the changing agricultural economy, and Brome’s decisions about his plantation management, meant fewer families and dwellings would live and work on the plantation, reducing the presence of multiple families and dwellings to participate in a flexible household arrangement. These three factors should result in a transition from a flexible enslaved household towards single-family, single dwelling households at St. Mary’s Manor, and should be evident in the historical and material records. Testing this hypothesis will require a number of elements to be established. First, evidence must show that families occupied individual dwellings on the landscape, and second, it must be demonstrated that these families were responsible for the activities of the household, particularly production, and that these tasks were not shared with other families. 9.2.1 One Family, One Dwelling The 1870 and 1880 U.S. Census and the plantation landscape will be consulted to determine if families occupied individual dwellings. Earlier discussion of the landscape already indicates that 278 Figure 9.12 The makeup of different dwellings and the families living within them. new quarters were built to accommodate new laborers. Examining the Census shows that these dwellings were home to almost entirely nuclear families (Figure 9.12). In almost all cases, living spaces housed single family groups. Dwelling 91 and 96 represented duplexes, which maintained their duplex form, but each pen included a separate unit. Dwelling 96 included one nuclear family, the Whalens, and Peter Biscoe and his new wife, Jane, and Peter’s grandchildren, Grace and Rebecca. The marriage line between Peter and an off-plantation individual represents his wife during slavery, Lottie, who does not appear on the plantation, but was the mother of a number of residents still on the plantation. Dwelling 91 is the least representative of a family dwelling: one half included related Biscoes, while the other half included a pattern more reminiscent of a flexible dwelling space. Otherwise, the other dwellings all reflected single families in each dwelling, ranging from a lone individual to a families of ten. The addition of new buildings to the landscape, and a consistent pattern of one family per dwelling suggests that the new economic relationship 279 between Brome and his laborers resulted in a new household arrangement. Figure 9.13 The plantation landscape from 1870 shows additional households in addition to the former slave quarters. Mobility also played a critical role in this formation of space. Not only could black families use their mobility to negotiate for better living conditions, as determined in Chapter 8, but it also allowed them to reconstitute divided families under a single roof. This is particularly evident for those who were part of abroad marriages. Bennett and Eliza both aged in their 60s, and likely had been married prior to their freedom. Charles Biscoe follows the same pattern, and reunited after slavery with his wife, Margaret, and his children, Robert, Peter, John, Jacob, Eliza, and Joseph, many who had been born prior to Emancipation (United States Census Bureau, 1870b; Dent, 1867). Children also were reunited with their parents: Ruth Butler (10), Aaron Whalen (14), and Margaret Gough (10) were not listed on the 1867 List, yet appeared in households with 280 their parents and siblings. These families indicate the new negotiating power established through mobility, and the chance for formerly enslaved families to reunite and live together in the same houses without risk of being sold or separated from their loved ones. Figure 9.14 The coresident groups in two dwellings on the 1880 census. The 1880 landscape shows a decrease in the number of dwelling spaces on the plantation, but maintains a pattern of a single family per dwelling. The makeup and size of these families also reinforces the hypothesis that each family dwelling constitutes a separate household. Three black families remained on the landscape, occupying a duplex and single quarter. Each family represents large, extended families, including multiple generations, but also nieces, nephews, and cousins. Two residences also include an unrelated individual. This suggests a clear association of a family with a living space or dwelling. 281 Figure 9.15 The plantation landscape ca. 1880 showing a dramatic decrease in the amount of housing available for laborers. 9.2.2 The Family as a Household To establish if the families living in separate dwellings were operating as distinct households, it must be determined if these families were responsible for conducting household tasks independently. This can be examined in three ways. First, the plantation landscape will be examined to determine if the spatial alignment of the dwellings would be conducive to shared activities. Second, examining different ways that members of the family contributed to economic production should demonstrate the primacy of the family household. Third, archaeological and architectural evidence at the duplex will demonstrate that the changing landscape demonstrates the transition of the duplex and single quarter from a shared, multi-dwelling household during slavery into a single-family, single dwelling household complex. 282 9.2.2.1 Settlement Patterns The spatial alignment of the buildings on the landscape also supports a transition towards separate households. The 1870 landscape leaves the potential for shared households, as there are a number of buildings in close proximity to each other. The presence of extended families occupying multiple dwellings, such as the Biscoes, increases this likelihood. One might imagine that Peter may have helped his children in raising his grandchildren, thus sharing childrearing duties among dwellings. While the economic system had changed by 1870, the proximity of the quarters to each other may mean that a number of the traits of enslaved households still remained. By the 1880s, however, Brome’s strategy changed, and the plantation landscape reflects a shift. Archaeological evidence shows only components 139B and 139C left on the landscape, in addition to the single and duplex quarter (Figure 9.15). The 1880 Census shows a similar pattern, with only two structures, one a duplex, occupied by African American laborers (United States Census Bureau, 1880b). Of particular note is the location of the structures on the landscape: the single and duplex quarter are located on the far western edge of the original quarter row, while 139B and C are located on the far eastern edge. This is akin to the patterns observed by Prunty and Orser (Prunty, 1955; Orser Jr and Nekola, 1985), where African American households began to disappear across the landscape during the post-emancipation period. This was attributed to the new economic relationship between the landlord and farmer. Because sharecropping meant that each farmer worked their own plot of land, they were more spread out across the landscape: it was more efficient for them to be closer to their property. Orser also argued that it allowed the planter the ability to divide the African American community that had formed during slavery. Penningroth, alternatively, argued that this was advantageous to the black farmer, who could separate himself from the direct oversight of their former owners, and use that geographic distance to establish autonomy over their land, household, and farming (Penningroth, 2003). It is likely that this is an example of mutual benefit, where each saw the system benefiting their circumstances. Regardless, the separation of space between the dwellings of black families increased the likelihood that they operated as a separate households. 283 After Brome sold most of the plantation lands, the landscape entered its final arrangement. By 1935, only one black family remained on the landscape, occupying the duplex quarter, and signifying the final phase in transitioning from a milt-household plantation landscape to only one single family, single-dwelling household. 9.2.2.2 Production The arrangement of the dwellings and their makeup in the 1870 census, and Brome’s investment in labor and agriculture noted in the 1870 Agricultural Census, make a strong case for the existence of sharecropping relationships at St. Mary’s Manor. Under these agreements, the farmer would receive a portion of the crops produced in return for their labor. While they did not own the crop, it did offer farmers an opportunity to profit, and allowed them to be independent of direct oversight from the planters (Orser Jr, 1991). For the planters, these contracts secured laborers for a specific period of time, providing some level of assurance that they would not leave in the middle of a contract. Planters did have a tendency to make these contracts as exploitative, taking advantage of the former slave’s poverty and lack of education. By by providing startup expenses and expecting repayment after the harvest, the planter could all but ensure a cycle of debt that kept the laborers in their continual employ. A particularly important element of the sharecropping system was that it transferred the burden of production onto the African American family. This is evident through the increasing size of enslaved families. Penningroth argues that the demands on the family as the productive unit meant that they had to provide their own labor (Penningroth, 2003). However, the mobility that adult children acquired as they grew up meant that this labor supply diminished over time, and sharecropping families had to have more children to maintain an adequate labor supply. The family’s in the 1870 census were quite sizable, extending to include up to nine children. The 1880 census, however, shows a significant increase in the size of families, numbering 12, 9, and 19 members, many extended generationally and also including nephews, nieces, and cousins. Since relying on extended family was another strategy to maintain the necessary labor force, a large and extended 284 sharecropping family would be representative of a labor unit required for agricultural work. Since these large families are housed in single dwellings, and since production is one of the activities required by a household, the evidence from the 1880 census indicates that the household units at St. Mary’s Manor had largely transitioned to a single-family, single-dwelling household. In addition to agricultural labor and income, black households also accessed other opportunities to diversify their household income. For many, this additional income came from the Chesapeake Bay and its tributaries through the extensive oyster, crab, and fishing resources it made available. For much of the late-19th century, blacks tonged the Chesapeake Bay and St. Mary’s River for oysters, selling them at local markets. For some, this served as a means of supplementing income, and for most it also served as a means of supplementing the diet. By using the natural resources and exploiting access to the public markets, black families were able to avoid debts that had debilitated families in the deeper South. Although the prosperity enjoyed by St. Mary’s oystermen wained near the end of the 19th century due to legislation that approved dredging, the use of the River and markets continued well into the 20th century: Emma Hall discusses her love for crabbing, and how she would sell her catch to pay for her school clothes each year (Hall and Hall, 2011). Building an independent income meant her family could maintain economic independence. The archaeological evidence discussed in chapter 8 demonstrates that fishing, oystering, and crabbing were activities that African Americans at St. Mary’s Manor participated in after slavery. Considering the proximity of the Wharf, Seminary, and Church, markets for selling this food were readily available. Penningroth notes that African Americans who lived near wharves and universities used these areas as opportunities to sell goods and food (Penningroth, 2003). For the African Americans working at Brome’s plantation, access to an abundant water resource and readily available markets created an ideal setting for supplementing their incomes. The Female Seminary offered other opportunities for the black families at St. Mary’s Manor to earn additional income. One account provided through the records at Trinity Church indicates that black women would gather laundry from the Seminary and wash clothes at their nearby homes (Trinity Church, 1992a). Sewing, washing, and mending were common activities among African 285 American women, and the preponderance of related materials in the single quarter indicate the possibility that these activities were taking place. Figure 9.16 A high concentration of buttons exist within the single quarter in all three levels. The chart shows the breakdown of buttons per level, indicating the highest quantity is coming from Level 2. Buttons, scissors, thimbles, and straight pins are indicators of activities relating to washing, sewing, and seamstress work. These items appear across the site, although one particular assemblage occurs in Level 2 inside the single quarter. 1 straight pins, 2 thimbles, and 122 buttons account for the objects related to sewing and washing. Of particular note is the number of buttons, which are far greater then the assemblage in Level 1 (n=30) and Level 3 (n=51) (Figure 9.16). While this assemblage may also relate to personal use, the high number of buttons suggests a more intensive activity occurring at the single quarter during the later half of the 19th century. To determine if the quantity of buttons found at the site is significant, comparisons with other domestic sites in Maryland were made (Figure 9.17). A sample of 124 units surrounding the single quarter were used, and only buttons from Level 2 were considered in the analysis to reduce the potential contamination from the period of enslavement or contexts that post-dated the single 286 Figure 9.17 This chart shows buttons found at comparable sites in Maryland. quarter’s existence in the sample. The units surrounding the duplex quarter were omitted from this total. This resulted in 306 buttons at the single quarter site. These were then compared with other Maryland household sites based on the ratio of buttons per square foot excavated. Two late 19th and early 20th century African American domestic sites, Sukeek’s Cabin (Uunila, Kirsti, 2002) and the Fischer Site (Hurry, 1990), the Sotterley slave quarter (Neuwirth, 1996), and the Harford Furnace (Hurry, 1990), a late 19th century two-family industrial worker site, were used for comparison. Each site’s total buttons were considered in ratio to the total area excavated. When compared with the other African American sites, ST1-14’s 306 buttons account for a larger total count then the other African American sites, accounting for 0.10 buttons per square foot. Harford Furnace, however, triples the rate of ST1-14 at 0.35 buttons per square foot. It is possible, however, that this difference may be due to the different contexts of the sites. The Harford site was not an agricultural site, it was home to transient laborers who were part of the wage labor system. This differed from the inhabitants of the single quarter, who were sharecroppers. While all lower and working class, 287 this may have influenced a different result. The comparison with other late 19th-century African American tenant farmers, those who lived at Sukeek’s Cabin and the Fischer Site, present the most comparable context to the inhabitants of the single and duplex quarter. It is also worth noting that the buttons from the comparative sites came from all the excavated contexts, whereas the buttons counted in the single quarter account for only Level 2. Based on those comparisons, the amount of buttons located at the single quarter are high, indicating that there may have been additional activities take place at the site. It is likely that the inhabitants may have been engaged in seamstress or washing related activities, possibly in the employ of the Female Seminary. The clustering of this activity within the single quarter suggests that it was carried out by the family residing in that quarter, indicating that it was a family task associated with a single dwelling household. The relationship between the manor home and black households also changed during this period, and created opportunities for African American women to contribute to their family’s household financially. the 1870 census shows that domestic laborers lived in separate dwellings, and neither the 1870 or 1880 census shows evidence of black domestic servants residing in the manor home (United States Census Bureau, 1870b, 1880b). During slavery, domestic slaves lived in the loft space in the manor home. This separation demonstrates the ability for African American women to control their place of habitation. It also represents the importance of the family as the primary unit of production: the employment of a member of the household at the manor home brought additional income into the black household. Similarly, the residence of domestic laborers within the black household further emphasized their contribution to household tasks such as childrearing and working in the fields. The limited labor that required extended families in 1880 also related to the role of women as laborers in the black household. Emma Hall noted the strain that this dual responsibility had on women, noting that her mother would cook dinner for the resident’s of the Brome house, and then return home to cook dinner again for her own family. By gaining employment outside the plantation through washing and sewing, working as domestic laborers, and using marine resources, black families at St. Mary’s were able to generate a household income from multiple sources through contributions from all members of the family. 288 This allowed them to combat the potential for debt and loosen their dependence on Brome and the fluctuations of agricultural economy. This was particularly important in Maryland, where white planters were also wary of the value of tobacco and wheat, and were moving themselves towards the use of agricultural activity that required less labor. Having a secondary income was a critical need for survival for black families, and the ability to navigate the external plantation space was critical in that effort. It is also evidence that the family had become the central unit of organization within the household, as these efforts to diversify sources of income were integral to the family’s economy and their ability to remain debt free. 9.2.2.3 The Expanding Single Family Household Figure 9.18 The plantation landscape in 1935, after the sale of most of the land and the transition of the plantation into a farm. 289 After the sale of most of the plantation property during the 1880s, the landscape changes again. During the 1890s to 1910s, only the single and duplex quarter remain, and by 1935 only the duplex is on the landscape (Figure 9.18). Considering the great reduction in the total acres of the plantation, there was no need to maintain a large labor force. With the home no longer having permanent residents after J. Thomas Brome’s death in 1910, there was also little need for a large domestic staff. Examining the architecture of these structures shows the continued transition towards a single family household, and the gradual expansion of that space into a larger, more accommodating household complex. Architectural analysis of the duplex quarter shows that the dividing wall on the front of the house had been cut off by the inhabitants. Alex Milford mentions that this had happened prior to his childhood, when he lived in the duplex during the first decade of the 1900s (McDaniel, 1982). This indicates that the building had been converted from a two family household into a single family structure with two rooms. By the 1920s, the Milburns were the last African American family to live on the property, and served as caretakers for the Manor Home and farm. A white family moved into another home on the property to care for the livestock. It was called the Dutchman’s house and was later torn down. Prior to 1934, an addition was built on to the rear of the duplex, expanding the household for the single family. The single quarter also changes during this period. Archaeological evidence suggests that it stopped being a residence during the 1890s (See Chapter 6), yet photographs show it standing in various states of disrepair until the 1910s. It is likely that it served as a barn or shed for the family living in the duplex quarter, expanding their household space into the neighboring yard. Photographs also reveal fence patterns surrounding the yardspace. Of particular note is the photograph from the 1910s, which show a large fence and gate running in front of the duplex. This fence created a clearly defined yard space for the inhabitants of the duplex. The fence also separated the yard from the rest of the plantation. With the Vale ravine to the North and the River to the West, the residents had created a distinct, separate yardspace from the rest of the plantation. Emma Hall, who lived in the duplex from the 1920s to the 1960s, presents an important note about 290 the importance of creating this distance when she notes that she and her brothers never played in the northern portion of the yard, where the single quarter had originally stood because it was “too close to the Big House” (Hall, 2013). Maintaining distance from the Brome house, and establishing a private, clearly defined yardspace for the family, was an important feature of the late 19th and 20th century African American household. Figure 9.19 Distribution of decorated ceramics dating after 1865 This pattern of yard usage demonstrates a gradual transition towards this household arrangement. The distribution of post Civil War decorated ceramics shows a similar pattern to the yardspace during slavery: a clean, shared yardspace in the front yards of the two quarters and possible middens in rear yard. This pattern may reflect the gradual transition discussed earlier, where families living in buildings in 1870 may have still shared certain activities. It may also reflect the expand- 291 ing yard space of a single family that had occupied the duplex and single quarter, using the single quarter as a shed. It is possible that, while only one family used the buildings, they continued to maintain a clean front yard. The distribution of white ware shows a different pattern with two possible interpretations. One interpretation shows distinct cleared spaces in directly in front of the single quarter and each half of the duplex. This could indicate the reduction of shared spaces during the late 19th century. Another possible interpretation is that the pattern reflects the 20th century arrangement after the destruction of the single quarter (Figure 9.10). This interpretation removes the single quarter from the landscape, Since this division does not appear in either decorated ceramic distribution maps, it is likely that this division is not due to separate families using yards, but instead represent the later period of use, after the single quarter had stopped being a residence. Instead, the white ware represent 20th century sweeping, and the transition of the area of the single quarter into a refuse and work yard. Hall notes that that area was where her family did their canning and jarring activities, and the photograph from the 1890s shows a wash basin and ice box on the north gable end of the duplex (Figure 9.1). Dedicating this area to work, not to play or social activity, further emphasized the separation of white and black spaces achieved by the fence. Determining the level of change in the African American household after Emancipation suggests that, by the 20th century, the African American household had completed a long transition to a single-family, single-dwelling household. This transition began with changing economic relationships that placed the burden of production on the family. However, the spatial alignment of the quarters and shared activity areas persisted during the years immediately following the War, representing a period of adjustment for the African American community as they adjusted to new ways of life. By the 1880s, a transition towards independent family households on all levels began, with extended families being used to provide the needed labor and families diversifying their economic production. By the 20th century, the transition was complete, with the family moving into new spaces by converting old dwellings into single family, multi-room dwellings and building 292 fences to delineate the boundaries of their household. The post Emancipation plantation landscape is a transitional period sparked by Emancipation and reflected in the changing makeup of the African American household. This transition demonstrates the freedom African Americans were achieving: the housing of families in one dwelling demonstrates the end of the slave trade, the freedom of mobility, and the use of that mobility to negotiate for more amenable living conditions conducive to family living. The emergence of the single family African American household, therefore, represented their independence, the opportunity to define that independence on their own terms, and to make choices and decisions about their households without outside interference. The emergence of the family-based household also had implications on the plantation community. The increasing separation of families and households on the plantation had a noticeable effect on the proximity of the households and the presence of a plantation based community. This is not to say that the African American community had disintegrated, only that it had moved to a different space. 293 CHAPTER 10 THE AFRICAN AMERICAN COMMUNITY IN ST. MARY’S CITY The effect the changes on the household and plantation inherently changed how the African American community used the cultural landscape in St. Mary’s City. This chapter will examine the makeup of the enslaved community and how they used space to connect enslaved households on the plantation and between plantations. It will then address how the Civil War and Emancipation impacted their use of space, and how plantation communities changed to accommodate new opportunities and freedoms. A community is a social institution that, “generates and is generated by supra-household interactions” that occur in a set of “structured and synchronized” places during a particular period of time (Yaeger and Canuto, 2000). These interactions are predicated on shared experience, belief, or ideas, and they typically have a physical meeting place where these shared values are reaffirmed, discussed, and developed. Another important element of communities is that they are socially constituted, meaning their shared values, membership, and location can change depending on their sociohistorical context. Determining shared experience and identifying place are two important elements of establishing the presence of an historical community, and the following chapter will make these determinations for the black community at St. Mary’s Manor, and how they changed over time. To identify these communities, a number of spaces from the enslaved period discussed in Chapter 8 will be readdressed in the context of community. Then, the upheaval of the Civil War will be 294 examined to not only highlight the decisions by many to escape their bondage, but to determine how this escape led to the formation of new communities during the Civil War. Lastly, the post Emancipation period will be examined to determine where the community spaces that had disintegrated on the plantation had relocated. Four areas will be targeted: African American schools, churches, urban neighborhoods, and towns. 10.1 The Enslaved Community: On and Among Plantations In Chapter 9, evidence shows that Brome’s activity in the slave trade divided African American families. Examining the plantation and external landscape shows that the African American community not only mitigated this division by establishing plantation communities, but also by reusing spaces to establish connections off the plantation. This section will examine these spaces in the context of the slave trade, and how spaces were reused for the purpose of maintaining families divided by slavery. Examining the plantation landscape during enslavement should determine if an African American plantation community existed at St. Mary’s Manor. While it may be difficult to determine through small finds a community affiliation among households, the proximity of households to each other can determine if an enslaved community was intact. Archaeologists have demonstrated that owners of large plantations typically organized their landscapes to maximize the efficiency and surveillance of their labor. Efficiency required the placement of laborers in proximity to their area of work, a strategy exemplified most clearly at Monticello (Neiman, 2008), but also examined by scholars in Georgia and St. Mary’s County, Maryland (Orser Jr, 1988b; King, 1994). In many cases, this resulted in the separation of domestic and field slaves across the plantation landscape, resulting in different types of living conditions. While these households all shared the experience of enslavement, which could serve as a rallying point for community formation, in many instances they experienced this bondage differently based on their proximity to the manor home and the tasks they carried out. At Montpelier, for example, domestic slaves living close to the manor home had glass windows and lived in frame structures, 295 while those living in the field complex lived in windowless, log cabin buildings. Domestic slaves also had a more robust material culture assemblage, while field slaves had only a few meager materials. These conditions, Orser argued, was an attempt by planters to divide the enslaved community (Orser Jr, 1988b), although it is difficult to ascertain if it worked. With this in mind, therefore, one could expect a divided landscape at St. Mary’s Manor to have a a similar effect on its African American population. Figure 10.1 The plantation landscape at St. Mary’s Manor in 1860 shows that slave quarters were aligned with areas of work, but not separated from each other. The alignment of the slave dwellings and households at St. Mary’s Manor, however, do not conform to a divided plantation landscape (Figure 10.1). Brome’s seven slave dwellings and 10 household spaces were used to house all of his laborers. While it is possible that extant slave quarters existed, the historical record and archaeological landscape data indicate that his entire enslaved 296 population lived in the row of quarters identified on the landscape. Similarly, the location of the quarter row behind the manor home and the agricultural complex indicate that Brome’s landscape did correspond to a landscape of efficiency and surveillance, but not one that intentionally divided African American dwellings to intentionally foster class divisions among the enslaved population, as others have suggested (Orser Jr, 1988b). His enslaved labor lived in proximity to their areas of work, and those areas of work were in proximity to each other. If one assumes, therefore, that a divided landscape would make community formation more difficult, then the alignment of the slave houses at St. Mary’s Manor would be more conducive to community formation. While Brome had built this landscape to increase the efficiency of his laborers, maximize the surveillance of his labor force, and demonstrate his elite status to his visitors, the proximity of the quarters allowed for a more integrated intra-household African American community. The enslaved could share tasks, resources, socialize, and build relationships due to the proximity of the buildings to each other. Unfortunately, the necessary archaeological data does not exist to determine if there is a substantial difference between the materials in the quarters more associated with domestic tasks versus agricultural tasks: this type of focused data collection only exists at the single and duplex quarters, which are both located near the manor home. Further excavations of quarters near the agricultural complex would provide valuable information towards answering these questions. Examining other spaces on the plantation could identify shared communal activities. Analysis in Chapter 8 discusses hidden areas on the plantation such as Key Swamp as possible areas for hiding or discreet activity, although not enough archaeological evidence was available to determine if these activities took place. Nonetheless, such areas on the plantation would have served as possible communal meeting locations for religious ceremonies or aiding escaping slaves. Another critical community location would be burial grounds for enslaved laborers. These sites were often separated from white burial grounds, and would have been the location of communal activity. Unfortunately, the location of an African American burial ground at St. Mary’s Manor has not been identified, likely supporting the fact that it was well secluded and difficult to find. 297 In addition to establishing a community on the plantation, African Americans made efforts to extend community ties off the plantation. as discussed in Chapter 8, this occurred through the reuse of spaces on and off the plantation. The limited autonomy enslaved domestic servants had over space within the manor home meant that it could become a gateway for the enslaved to people and spaces outside the plantation. Visitors of the Brome’s came with their slaves, and the kitchen and carriage house became areas to share information between plantations. Similarly, domestic slaves traversed the external landscape with the Brome’s, visiting other plantations or the Brome’s vacation cottage at Point Lookout, where more elite families, and their slaves, visited. The manor home, therefore, became a space on the plantation that linked African Americans at St. Mary’s to a broader slave community. The Trinity Church served in a similar capacity. The original church, constructed in 1829, stood two stories high and had galleries on the two sides and one end (Trinity Church, 1992b; Wollon Jr, 1993). This forced segregation maintained an important symbolic separation for slaveowners, positioning themselves closer to the alter and establishing their spiritual dominance over their enslaved property. However, this arrangement also provided black slaves with the chance to socialize, pass information, and see family members. Interacting with enslaved laborers from other plantations was a valuable opportunity to resist and survive the shared experience of slavery. These meetings were opportunities to pass valuable information from one plantation to another regarding rumors about politics or more discrete messages about escaping slaves, family members, or members being lost or added through the slave trade. Such communal ties had important implications for the security and well being of the enslaved community as a whole, since they allowed for the transmission of valuable information across the landscape. Mattapany Path, the reused colonial road discussed in Chapter 8, was another way that the enslaved used the landscape to maintain family and community ties. Archaeologists have discussed the potential connections between African American communities and families via routes through the woods, and Mattapany Path serves as possible evidence of such as path. The path served 298 as secluded means for African Americans to traverse the landscape unseen, and it connected a number of plantations in St. Mary’s County. It is possible that this road served as a thoroughfare for divided family members, such as Walthon, Hiram Bennett, and Charles Biscoe, as all were part of abroad marriages during slavery. These secluded paths would have allowed these men to visit their families at night or on weekends, without using visible roads that would expose them to authorities or slave catchers. It may have also brought community members from different plantations together at night to discuss opportunities for escape or share information. Building community during slavery was a difficult task, particularly broader communities off the plantation. This was particularly challenging because slaves lacked the power to establish communal places on a broader scale. Their restricted mobility meant that they had to reuse spaces like the manor home, church, or wooded areas to serve as the locations for community activities, and therefore had to conduct these actions discretely. 10.2 Mobility and the Post-Emancipation Regional Landscape The pattern of the plantation community began to change during the Civil War, when enslaved African Americans began to gain more freedom of mobility. This was particularly true after Emancipation, when they were no longer constrained to the plantation landscape. Freedom from slavery also meant that former slaves had more opportunity to establish their own centers of community. The Civil War began the process by which enslaved African Americans began to access the spaces off the plantation more aggressively. The disruption caused by the presence of Union forces in St. Mary’s County resulted in the what historians have called the largest slave rebellion in the history of the United States (Hahn, 2003), because it presented opportunities for employment and enlistment at places like Point Lookout. This was the case at St. Mary’s Manor, where 16 of Brome’s slaves left the plantation during the War (Dent, 1867). These new opportunities for employment also resulted in the chance to build new communities, known in most places as contraband camps. It was in these camps that African Americans were put to work for the military. Drawings of Point Lookout show a contraband camp, where it is likely some of the 16 escapees 299 from St. Mary’s Manor lived. These camps included slaves from various locations: some where Marylanders, but many were likely from Virginia, escaping across the Potomac or picked up by the Union Flotilla on one of their raids (Davidson, 2000). The residents in the camps were considered wards of the federal government, and were given a variety of tasks to carry out day-to-day, tasks, ranging from agricultural labor to cooking to washing. They were compensated for their work, as the military believed that they were instilling in them northern concepts of freedom and work (Davidson, 2000). Of particular note, however, is the emerging sense of community that began to emerge in contraband camps throughout the South. As these camps grew, and began incorporating women and children, they also began erecting schools and churches and making small towns. The urge to live freedom through the formation of communities started in the midst of the Civil War, and these patterns continued through to the post-slavery era. The escaping slaves from Brome’s plantation not only marked the beginning of his desperation to retain laborers, but also the disintegration of the African American community on the plantation. The urge to create separation between themselves and their former masters led many African Americans to go elsewhere. While many of Brome’s former slaves remained on the plantation in 1870, they had all left by 1880, leaving only a few households. The post-Emancipation era represented a disintegrating plantation community: the freedom of mobility allowed the community to separate their communal spaces from the plantation and to create their own communal buildings and institutions on a larger, independent scale. 10.2.1 “The Colored People Have Given Liberally”: Black Education in St. Mary’s County One of the earliest community developments outside of the plantation was the establishment of schools for black children. In St. Mary’s County, this effort was aided by the Freedmen’s Bureau, which had an office for St. Mary’s County located in Washington, D.C. In many instances, former slave owners provided the land, while the local black population and northern aid societies raised funds to build the schoolhouses and pay for teachers. Aside from those who donated land, 300 support for black education among white St. Mary’s Countians was limited, and those who did donate money, supplies, or land faced retaliation from their peers (for Afro-American Contributions, 2006). John Brome, however, did not appear to suffer any ills from his community despite his donation of land to build a schoolhouse for black children, noted in Chapter 6. Considering his position as a former slaveholder, donating land for a black schoolhouse seemed contradictory. However, he recognized the interest African Americans had in gaining an education, and by positioning a schoolhouse near his property provided an incentive for the black farmers he employed to maintain residence. One family at St. Mary’s Manor was more closely tied to the Fairfield Schoolhouse then the others. John Bush served as one of the three black trustees of the school in 1867, along with John Baley and John Holly. James Stevenson and William Kelly served as white trustees of the school. Bush lived in building 97 with his wife Ann, his sons George, Argo, and William, and his daughter Laura. By November, he was listed on the Deed. His home at St. Mary’s Manor may have been part of the trustee arrangement or a matter of convenience for Bush: he could be close to the school, and encourage attendance of the plantation’s laborers. It is unclear how successful he may have been: in the 1870 census only John, his wife, and son George were the only black laborers who could read and write on the plantation, and George (13), was the only child who had attended school in the past year. While these numbers seem low, it should be noted that, by 1875, there were only 447 pupils in black schools in St. Mary’s County, only a small percentage of the total African American population at the time (for Afro-American Contributions, 2006). This did not mean there was not great enthusiasm regarding education in the black community throughout the County. In his July 1868 report, the Freedman’s Bureau Supervisor of Education in Washington, John Kimball, described his trip to St. Mary’s County. His account provides a glimpse into the obstacles that stood in the way of gaining an education, and how blacks relied on their community to raise funds to build and support the operation of the schoolhouses. He noted that ten schoolhouses had been built with the assistance of the Bureau, and that another was under construction. “All the houses have been built by colored carpenters,”he states, noting that, “had 301 we been obliged to rely on white carpenters, hardly one school house would have been completed in the lower counties of Maryland” (Kimball, 1867). This was because the black community did not have the money to pay white carpenters, while “colored mechanics were willing to do the work, and wait for their pay.” By the time of Kimball’s visit, many of these carpenters had still not been paid (Kimball, 1867). Kimball’s notes were not meant to indicate that the black community had not been financially supportive, however: “the colored people have given liberally, considering their circumstances, for the building of these houses, and everything on the schools,” he states. These funds went towards books and teacher salaries, he wrote, noting that the Leanordtown community had raised $25,000 since November, and that none of the schools carried any debt. He also noted the immediate enthusiasm and community investment, when he told one meeting that the Educational Society would not be able to pay the teacher any longer: “they raised her salary for another month, on the spot. And at another place they will keep the teacher two or three months longer” (Kimball, 1867). Kimball held nine meetings in St. Mary’s County, which were all well attended. Members of the community “left their work for the day educational meeting, or coming after a hard days labor to the evening meeting, often a distance of three or four miles” (Kimball, 1867). Clearly, the purpose of gaining an education was valuable to the black community, and the schoolhouses served as places of communal importance. Of course, there were obstacles to their education. There was a strong opposition to white teachers working in black schools. Kimball believed that the “poor habits” of many African Americans, in particular the use of alcohol and tobacco, would hinder their efforts. Nonetheless, the black community was enthusiastic about the prospect of gaining their education. Importantly, as Kimball’s accounts dictate, the act of building a schoolhouse was one that required the community to work together. Black carpenters were willing to donate their time to get the schoolhouses built. Members of the community donated the little money they had to make sure that the schoolhouse was maintained, had adequate supplies, and to pay their teachers. They were so enthusiastic, in fact, that Kimball noted that the schoolhouse was the only investment in real estate that blacks were making: “This gave me a chance to remind them that they were among the first to obtain 302 their freedom, and it was time for them to be buying land for themselves,” because land was cheap in St. Mary’s County immediately following the War (Kimball, 1867). It is telling, however, that committing funds for the advancement of the African American community took precedent over owning personal property: the schoolhouse was not only a place where the community’s children congregated, but it was a place built and invested in by the African American community at large. Establishing schools, and doing so in communal fashion, meant that these were some of the very first institutions built on the local landscape by the black community. This contrasts sharply with the clandestine, secretive nature by which black children were educated during slavery (Williams, 2005). Instead, their education was public, made visible to white and blacks through the schoolhouse itself. By becoming actively visible on the landscape, schools provided culturally distinct places where black children could learn, while also being exposed to black cultural traditions and the black community. This was critical considering the changing plantation landscape, that had begun transitioning to a more household based space, as opposed to a communal landscape. While the enthusiasm and participation of the black community was critical to the success of the black educational system, the protection provided by the Freedmen’s Bureau was integral to the early success of the schools. The Bureau’s closure in 1870 meant that blacks in St. Mary’s County lost the federal protection that had supported them financially and protected them legally. However, the black community already had a good footing, with at least 12 schools already established with steady attendance from children and adults alike (for Afro-American Contributions, 2006). Trustees of the 12 Freedmen’s Bureau schools were contacted in 1872, and invited to turn their schools over to the county. It is likely that Bush and his colleagues agreed, and the Fairfield School became part of the county school system in 1874 (for Afro-American Contributions, 2006, p. 105). By 1880, when almost all the children living on the Brome plantation were in school, they were likely attending public schools run by St. Mary’s County. Without the federal protection of the Bureau, the struggle for equal educational opportunities began anew, and white local and state legislatures began to devise a system that would ensure 303 that black schools would remain inferior to the education afforded white schoolchildren (for AfroAmerican Contributions, 2006, p. 8). To maintain an unequal education while maintaining a vale of equality, Maryland adopted a funding structure for public education based on property taxes. Property taxes paid by white citizens would support white schools, while those paid by African American citizens would fund black schools. While the funding sources were equal in type, the amount of funds were drastically disproportionate. This system was in place until schools were desegregated in the 20th century, ensuring that generations of blacks in St. Mary’s County received underfunded educations. These financial inequalities had an affect on the quality of education that African American children received, a trend that worsened throughout the 19th century. While the statistics available for 1875 do not provide an example of perfect equality, in some categories they are relatively consistent. For example, there were 15 black schools for 447 students, a ratio of 1:30, and 35 white schools for 825 students, a ratio of 1:24. However, these numbers changed dramatically: by 1899, black enrollment had more than tripled, yet only eleven schools were added, while white enrollment only doubled, resulting in 13 new schools. This meant that one African American teacher was responsible for 53 students, while their white counterparts worked with 31 students each. For their extra work, black teachers were regularly paid between $50 to $100 less than white teachers. In total, the average allocation per black student had decreased from $10.46 in 1875 to $4.82 in 1899, while for white students it only decreased from $13.95 to $9.57. The increasing strength of segregation carried a significant toll on the ability for black children to gain an equal education, as the financial support was simply not available (for Afro-American Contributions, 2006). What is valuable to note, however, was the increasing numbers of African Americans who enrolled in school in the years 1875, 1899, and 1917: by 1917, nearly 4 times as many African Americans were enrolled in school, a significant increase despite the decreasing funds being provided by the state (for Afro-American Contributions, 2006). Clearly, the importance and value of an education was not lost on the African American community despite efforts to devalue it through 304 legislation. This is evident at Brome’s plantation: while only John Bush’s son had been enrolled in school in 1870, every child between the ages of 7 and 13 who lived on the Brome Plantation in 1880 was considered “At School” (United States Census Bureau, 1870b, 1880b). Despite these obstacles, the black community still sought other avenues towards gaining their education. One remarkable development was the emergence of privately funded schools for African American students in St. Mary’s County. One example was the parochial school established by the Knights of St. Jerome. This African American beneficial society was formed in 1880 to take care of widows and orphans, bury the dead, and care for the sick and disabled within the African American community. In 1886, they decided to also develop a parochial school for African American children. The school itself was located on the northwest corner of Trappe and Three Notch Road Road in Dameron, Maryland. This school was privately funded. The structure was a large two-story framed building, and served as the central point for society functions and for the school. Having a private African American school allowed the black community to be in charge of the curriculum. However, it also created a dichotomy among those who attended the private and public institution, since it cost extra money to attend (for Afro-American Contributions, 2006). The pursuit of equal educational opportunities in schooling ended in 1955, when the Board of Education in St. Mary’s County officially accepted the decision of the Supreme Court to desegregate the school system. Desegregation was officially put into place during the 1958-59 school year. This resulted in the closing of most of the one-room schoolhouses that had been built in St. Mary’s County for the education of black children. Only a few remain standing, often because they were repurposed as places of residence or business. However, it also ensured that African American students would receive equal financial support for their education as their white classmates. Gaining an education was one of the critical components of the post-Emancipation cultural landscape for African Americans in St. Mary’s County. The organization, construction, and administration of these buildings relied heavily on collaboration with the Freedman’s Bureau and other giving societies, but primarily relied on the support and enthusiasm from the black community. Kimball’s report indicates that this enthusiasm was not lacking in St. Mary’s County, 305 where the community worked together to build schoolhouses through volunteer work and donated money to keep the schools staffed and supplied. Even after the Bureau was disbanded, money from northern organizations dried up, and the funding for public schools lacked, African American communities continued to emphasize the importance of education by sending their children to school and supporting private institutions. African American schoolhouses, therefore, were a consistent sight on the County landscape, serving not only as institutions of learning, but also as reminders to both the black and white communities of the advances being made by African Americans as free citizens. 10.2.2 "All of us Would Walk Together": The African American Church in St. Mary’s City Another critical community space that emerged off the plantation was the African American church. During slavery, worship was restricted to white churches or to the slave quarters, where the message was manipulated and controlled by planters to support the conditions of bondage. After slavery, however, African Americans could practice their religion independently, and chose to do so by developing their own congregations and churches. These spaces became integral to the maintenance of the African American community, and became centers of religious activity, but also of charity and social interaction. For most African Americans, the church became the central component of their political, religious, and social lives (Shaffer, 2004). These institutions picked up where the enslaved plantation community left off: providing a safe space for African Americans to congregate, worship, and escape racism and oppression. Between 1865 and 1900, at least seven African American churches were formed in St. Mary’s County (Unified Committee for Afro-American Contributions, 1997). The first was Ebenezer African Methodist Episcopal Church, which began as a log chapel in Mechanicsville. It is the oldest AME congregation in St. Mary’s County, and still operates on the same property. In 1870, the Bethesda United Methodist Church emerged in Valley Lee. This congregation had originally served whites, but passed into African American hands after the War, and a new church building was erected. Located closest to St. Mary’s City was the Mt. Zion Methodist Church, which was 306 built in 1872. This congregation was believed to have been started in the 18th century by a slave named Isaac Braxton. After the War, the church land was donated, and a church house was built. It was replaced after a fire in 1908 by its current building. Other churches were built throughout the County through various means. The Galilee United Methodist Church in Mechanicsville and the St. Luke Methodist Church, then called the Lowentown Congregation, in Ridge were both founded by veterans of the U.S. Colored Troops. Before the Church in Ridge was built, the parishioners held services in their homes until they were able to purchase the old St. Mary’s Chapel in Ridge and convert it into an African American Church. Two other churches, the Mt. Calvary United Methodist Church, built in 1880, and the St. Mark American Methodist Episcopal Church, built in 1891, completed the landscape of African American churches in St. Mary’s County by 1900. St. Pater Claver Catholic Church followed in 1912, acting as the only Catholic African American church in St. Mary’s County (Unified Committee for Afro-American Contributions, 1997). There is little historical or archaeological evidence of church life for the African Americans who lived and worked at St. Mary’s Manor immediately following the Civil War, although it is likely that they attended one of the closer institutions. During the 20th century, Solomon Milburn and his wife were both buried at Trinity Church, which was a predominantly white congregation. However, there is some evidence that black parishioners did attend the church: a remembrance of Louise Shorter, who had been born a slave, appears in the Church’s records (Trinity Church, 1992a). This may have been a matter of habit or convenience for the Milburns. Trinity was next door to their homes. By 1890, Trinity had remodeled, removing the balconies that once segregated whites and blacks, perhaps representing a more welcoming atmosphere then in the past. Not all the Milburn’s attended Trinity, however. Solomon’s daughter, Emma, who had lived as a young girl with her aunt, had attended a Methodist Church. As a girl and young woman living in St. Mary’s City, she attended Zion’s Fair Methodist Episcopal Chapel. Each Sunday, she would walk through a path in the woods from her parents’ home to church, a distance of three miles. For Emma, the experience of Church extended beyond the moment she was inside the building. It was 307 the act of getting their that she remembered: I went to Zion Methodist Church...and we walked...we walked. We had to leave home by 9:30 and got there by 11 o’clock. It was a hoot...you know how you walk and you meet up with the next group of children? All of us would walk together (Hall, 1998). Her statement identifies church attendance, and the process of getting to church, as one of mobility and community, and emphasizes the connection between space and place. Here, she physically moves off the plantation to interact with her community. In fact, she chooses her community over her family, since her parents attended a different church. This pairs with her recollections of her time during the week, when she only had her brothers to play with around the house. At Church, Emma Hall could partake in communal, social, and religious activities. The location of Zion Methodist Church also demonstrates the reuse and reclaiming of once clandestine enslaved communal spaces. This Church was located along the likely route of Mattapany Path, which may have served as a route for the African American community between plantations, and was discussed in detail in Chapter 8. It is quite possible that Emma Hall’s walk to church may have traced the same wooded path as that traversed by her ancestors as they visited their community. 10.2.3 Building Community in Independent Towns The decreasing presence of African American households on plantations such as St. Mary’s Manor did not mean these households were disappearing: instead, they were relocating to new communities located off the plantation. Families began to exercise their newfound mobility to purchase land and move away from the oppressive plantation landscape and towards black communities where they could live among other people who shared their experiences and values. In some instances, this relocation required movement outside of St. Mary’s County, to large cities such as Washington or Baltimore. In others, it meant moving to, or starting, smaller towns located in St. Mary’s County. For the residents who were enslaved at St. Mary’s Manor, these all became options after 308 Emancipation, made possible through their freedom of mobility. To examine their participation in these migrations, the historical record will be interrogated to determine how mobility, community, and place interact. Two individuals who were enslaved at St. Mary’s Manor have well documented post-Emancipation experiences. William Gross and Alexander Gough, who both served in the 38th Infantry of the U.S. Colored Troops, did not return to live permanently in St. Mary’s City after their tenure in the military ended, despite each having family members who were enslaved there. In each case, they relocated to Baltimore, where a large free African American community had already been established prior to the War, and continued to flourish after Emancipation. Both used their status as a veteran, and the connections they made during the War, to establish themselves as part of the black community in Baltimore. This was not an uncommon pattern for USCT Veterans. Many moved north and into urban areas due to their exposure to these environments during the War. Maintaining contact and building communities with their fellow veterans also provided opportunities to share common experiences and beliefs about their experience in the War (Shaffer, 2004). William Gross moved to Baltimore after his wedding to Edmaria Bennett, which happened in St. Mary’s County in 1868. Gross received a saber cut in his left arm during the Civil War and also suffered from rheumatism in his left arm and shoulder, likely due to a life of hard labor, and was unable to lift heavy objects. He began collecting a military pension in the 1890s, which reached $12 a month by 1910. In 1902, he listed his only occupation as “minding cows” over the summer, and no employment in the winter, his physical condition keeping him from more strenuous employment. In 1910, his pension was accidentally stopped due to the death of another Baltimore man named William Gross. By this date, Gross had reached 75 years of age, and entirely relied on the pension to survive. An investigation was launched to determine if he was still alive or not, and in the documentation Gross noted that, “I have plenty of old soldiers that served with me...around the neighborhood to prove that I am yet a living man.” In later documentation, he lists a number of these men, stating that he can “prove by a dozen of my comrades, now living in Baltimore, that I was a soldier as I claim.” This community of veterans, all from the Colored Infantry, provided 309 a support network for Gross in his time of need. It is likely that this same community helped him get started in Baltimore, as many black Baltimorians had enlisted in the military during the War (United States Department of Veteran Affairs, 1910). Alexander Gough returned to St. Mary’s County after the War to marry Charlotte (Lottie) Butler, who had also been enslaved at St. Mary’s Manor. She lived on the plantation with her parents and siblings in 1870, but appears in Baltimore as Alexander’s wife in census records in 1880 and 1900. Gough, too, relied on former military comrades to establish himself and his family in the city. In 1880 Lottie’s younger sisters, Emma and Janie Butler, are living with the Goughs, and in 1900 her younger brother, Frank, is also living with the family. This indicates that family and social networks expanded beyond the boundary of the plantation, and were used as supportive networks. Instead of moving to Baltimore on their own, Emma, Janie, and Frank relied on their family connections that already existed to build a financial and social footing in Baltimore. These types of expansive family and social networks were established in many instances in both Baltimore and Washington, D.C., and allowed rural families access to the economic and social benefits of the city (Miller, 1986; United States Census Bureau, 1870b, 1880b, 1900). For the Gross’s, Butlers, and Goughs, establishing professional networks, kin, and communities that extended beyond the plantation and local landscape were integral to expanding their opportunities after the Civil War. The chance to live in Baltimore presented new opportunities for economic success, but also provided distance from the world of enslavement in an agricultural setting such as St. Mary’s City. The extension to Baltimore was not the only community that was external to the plantation that was established after the Civil War. Locally, a number of black communities and towns emerged in St. Mary’s County. In many cases, these communities required land ownership, meaning that their founding stretched deeper into the 19th and early 20th centuries. In St. Mary’s County, few blacks owned property immediately following the Civil War. Nonetheless, land ownership among blacks increased. By 1910, 41 percent of black homes were owned (McDaniel, 1982, p. 188). The land was typically bought from white planters, and often represented poor land: a pattern that continued from the days of enslavement. Beachville, for example, was built on swampland. While 310 white planters understood the gain in power that black families received from owning their own property, many also considered it a necessity to ensure that black laborers remained in St. Mary’s County as opposed to leaving for opportunities in urban areas. In the same way that white planters negotiated property with enslaved laborers, they used the appeal of property ownership in return for a more permanent labor supply (McDaniel, 1982). Two communities were established near to St. Mary’s Manor in the First District. Beachville emerged in the late 1880s and 1890s near Cross Manor. A number of buildings from the period still stand and are occupied by descendants of the original inhabitants. St. Inigoes also had a large African American community that built up after the Civil War, and remains predominately African American. In many cases, these communities were established around or near to an African American church or school. In the case of St. Inigoes, the nearby presence of Mt. Zion Methodist Church and a schoolhouse on the same property contributed to the emergence of the community (McDaniel, 1982). It is difficult to determine, however, if former slaves or tenant laborers from Brome’s plantation relocated to these communities. Census records indicate that many remained on the plantation lands in 1870, but left by 1880, a pattern reflected in the plantation landscape (See Chapter 6). While Alexander Gough and William Gross moved their families to Baltimore, a number of black families remained in St. Mary’s County, some within Brome’s First District. Before determining if these families relocated to predominately black communities using census records, it had to be determined if these communities had emerged by 1880, and if so, if they are visible through the census records. The following analysis takes the 1870 and 1880 census records from Maryland’s First Election District and charts the number of white and black individuals and families on each day of the census (United States Census Bureau, 1870b, 1880b). Identifying communities relies on the assumption that the census taker collected his data in a geographically logical manner, and that individuals listed near to each other on the census also lived near to each other on the landscape. Comparing these two charts of 1870 and 1880 should determine if there are changes in racial settlement patterns. Then, it will be possible to determine if families who had lived at St. Mary’s 311 Figure 10.2 This map shows the voting districts in Charles, Ann Arundel, and St. Mary’s Counties. The First District, also called the "St. Inigoes" District, is labeled. Manor in 1870 relocated to these towns. An analysis of the First Election District census records from 1870 and 1880 demonstrate the changing racial settlement patterns. Because the census taker did not enumerate specific geographical locations, this analysis assumes that the order by which individuals were recorded represent the geographical path that the census taker walked, thereby creating a relative map of families and individuals who lived near to each other. The dates that the census was taken, therefore, should correspond to the geographical path walked by the census taker. By tallying the number of blacks and whites on each day of the 1870 and 1880 census, changes in settlement patterning should be evident. Large groups of black populations and families tallied on the same day should indicate 312 the emergence of a predominately black town. In 1870, 37.6 percent of the population in the First District was white (n=703) and 62.4 percent was black (n=1165). The high percentage of African Americans reflected the high numbers of slaves that were held in the district. Similar ratios were tallied for families, with 39.7 percent being white (n=142) and 60.3 percent black (n=216). The 1870 census taker enumerated the date at the top of each page, although he was not specific in noting when on the page each day started and ended, meaning that the daily enumerations are not as accurate as possible (United States Census Bureau, 1870b). Figure 10.3 Black and white individuals enumerated by day in Maryland’s First Election district in 1870. Histograms of the total population and total families by day show a series of peaks in the African American population (Figure 10.3). However, they also indicate a constant white population each day. With the largest population spike on July 27th removed, white populations averaged 39 individuals per day, and black populations averaged 68 individuals. Each day saw roughly the same number of white and black families counted. This suggests that the landscape consisted of both white and black households generally in close proximity to each other. The location of John Brome’s plantation, which was counted on June 21st, provides a model for what this pattern may indicate. On that day, 48 white individuals, grouped in eight households, were counted, compared to 112 black individuals in 18 households. These numbers are larger then most of the days, but since we know that many of these African Americans were working directly for Brome as sharecroppers, it suggests that the pattern of a few white households and a large 313 number of black families may reflect a sharecropping settlement pattern. By 1870, black families were still working and living on plantations, and had yet to transition towards different patterns that were more autonomous. Brome’s plantation represents the largest in the District, so the fact that his stands out is no surprise. A transition occurs in the 1880 census, when 35.5 percent (n=749) of the population was white, while 64.5 percent (n=1362) were African American, resulting in an increase for both whites and blacks in St. Mary’s County (United States Census Bureau, 1880b). The census taker was more detailed in his collection of names, indicating in the middle of pages when a day started and stopped. This gives a more precise “map” of his movement across the landscape. Figure 10.4 Black and white individuals enumerated by day in Maryland’s First Election District in 1880. The 1880 census shows that each day, the census taker recorded an average of 30 white individuals in six homes per day. The enumerations of white families occurred consistently each day, with multiple families being tallied, often between four and six white families a day. In this regard, the work of the census taker reflects the 1870 census. The black families, however, are divided throughout the month: The vast majority of the black population is counted from June 1st through June 17th, with a large portion of that population being counted on June 11th. On that date, 160 black individuals in 34 families were counted, and most of those were tallied next to each other on the census. This indicates that they all lived next door to each other, suggesting a large, independent African American community. The 1880 chart also indicates patterns that were similar to 1870. These areas show a number of 314 white families with even more black families. Since the patterns are similar to those appearing in 1870, this may be continued remnants of a sharecropping settlement pattern. The latter half of the census counts, however, show a very different pattern. First, only a small amount of individuals are tallied each day, suggesting that the households are spread out, requiring the census taker to spend more time traveling then tallying names. They also show very small populations of African Americans, while continuing the same counts of white families. This may reflect a landscape that has moved away from sharecropping, or perhaps small white farms that are worked by a few black and white laborers. Demonstrating these transitions allows us to visualize the emergence of all-black communities in First District of St. Mary’s County between 1870 and 1880. Building these communities allowed blacks to separate themselves from white communities to establish independence and to avoid instances of racism and oppression. While many continued to work on farms or elsewhere for whites, the emergence of distinct black neighborhoods based on the path taken by the census taker indicates that these independent communities were an important part of post-emancipation life. The African Americans who had once been enslaved by Brome were part of this settlement pattern shift. Of those who had been employed by Brome in 1870, none of them were located near Brome’s plantation in 1880. Brome’s family appears in the census on June 17th, 1880. The families of Peter Gough and Margaret Biscoe were enumerated on June 1st, placing them in a small, all black community of at least five families and almost 100 individuals. Ralph Butler, George Whalen, and Lott Biscoe moved their families into the largest all-black community, counted on June 11th. Finally, Ed Biscoe and John Bush located their families in areas representative of sharecropping relationships. The Bushes were listed on June 7th, while Ed Biscoe was the closest to Brome in time, counted on June 15th. In all instances, they had clearly moved away from Brome and his family. Using the freedom of mobility, the once-enslaved African Americans began to move away from the institutions and situations that could do them harm, either physically or financially, and instead opted for communities that were independent and provided a buffer from racism and oppression. In the case of St. Mary’s Manor, Brome’s lack of investment in agriculture 315 left little reason for families to stay, and his close proximity to St. Mary’s City, a white landscape, and his future plans to build a town on the space, likely made it an unattractive location for black families. Examining these changing settlement patterns, where African Americans begin to move to allblack communities, highlights the importance of mobility to the post-Emancipation context as a means a of avoiding racism and oppression. It also demonstrates how, with the black plantation community disintegrating due to the new economic relationships, mobility allowed black families to build supportive communities on different scales through the establishment of churches, schools, and new towns and neighborhoods. Establishing these places on their own property, and external to white communities and places, emphasized the importance of creating safety through separation and community. Examining the way that the location and formation of African American communities changed after Emancipation highlights a number of important themes. It demonstrates the value of mobility as one of the crucial freedoms African Americans achieved through Emancipation. This allowed them to separate themselves from oppressive living conditions and to reform African American communities on their own property and within their own structures. No longer did the community have to congregate in reused, clandestine spaces. Mobility allowed them to build their own communities in their own buildings, and to develop places where they could act autonomously and make choices without interference. It also gives us a glimpse into the power that these communities began to develop: it is hardly a coincidence that some of the most important movements of the Civil Rights era emerged in debates over the equality of educational opportunity, or that the most prominent African American leader of the 20th century was a reverend. These spaces were crucial to the formation of an African American community, and became the backbone of their continued walk towards freedom. 316 CHAPTER 11 CONCLUSION Understanding the transition from slavery to freedom through an analysis of the cultural landscape reveals some important details about the way space was negotiated through time between African and European Americans. The preceding analysis demonstrated how dramatically the process of emancipation changed the plantation landscape for both planters and African American laborers, re-categorizing the relationship between the two groups, the way they approached agriculture, and the makeup of their families, households, and communities. A number of research questions were posed at the outset of this research, with the overarching goal of understanding how African Americans used space differently on a mid-19th century Southern Maryland plantation. Throughout the investigation of the use of plantation space, the makeup of the African American household, and the changing African American community, a number of interrelated themes emerged. 1. Two cultural landscapes existed during and after slavery: the landscape of the planter class, and the African American landscape. While they inhabited the same geographic space and built environment, the way each group interpreted and used the spaces differed due to their cultural, economic, and social context. Different spaces held different meanings and were used for different activities. 2. Mobility was one of the most contested issues of space on the plantation. For planters, circumscribing mobility to ensure a stable labor force was critical during and after slavery, while enslaved and free laborers regularly sought opportunities to circumvent this control. 317 3. During slavery, African Americans resisted their bondage by reusing and reconceptualizing the landscape of control, redefining spaces as places of resistance, survival, and community. 4. After slavery, free African Americans used their mobility to create separation from white institutions and creating their own, distinct, independent places on the landscape. 5. The Civil War and Emancipation were the primary reasons for this change in the landscape. These events emboldened African Americans to make larger claims at of freedom, and to use their agency to define that freedom through various tactics. While the changing agricultural economy affected Brome’s decision-making after slavery, it was primarily the freedom of his labor that influenced their choices to modify the plantation landscape. 6. The actions taken by enslaved and free laborers were efforts to gain and define their freedom. The actions taken by enslaved laborers were taken to mitigate the effects of their oppression, while creating spaces where they could act in relative freedom. After Emancipation, the actions of separation created independent spaces where this freedom could be further defined. 11.1 The Restricted Plantation Landscape During slavery, Brome built a landscape that served two purposes: first, to establish a profitable plantation built on the production of cash crops and slave labor, and second, to display his wealth and status to his peers. Brome achieved the latter by putting his plantation on display, placing it in proximity to the St. Mary’s City memorial landscape, and by using the landscape to tie himself to the remains of the colonial city. Brome’s creation of a performative landscape supported his position as a wealthy planter and community leader. Maintaining a profitable slave plantation was part of this image, and required strict control of his enslaved laborers, in particular their access to space. He designed the landscape to ensure his laborers were under constant surveillance in their homes and in the manor house. He also controlled his slaves’ mobility by working with his neighbors and broader community to create stability in slave society, using newspapers, slave catchers, and 318 other tools to restrict opportunities for running away. Brome’s most egregious strategy of control was his participation in the slave trade. Even the threat of sale was a means of reminding slaves that they lacked control over where they lived and with whom. His regular participation, both as a buyer and seller of enslaved laborers, demonstrated his willingness to carry out that threat, and fully displayed his control of African American mobility. Brome’s landscape of performance and control, however, did not fully reflect the landscape that the enslaved occupied. In essence, slaves at St. Mary’s Manor occupied two landscapes: they were forced to navigate the landscape established by Brome, and to choose when and where to resist the expectations that he set. This landscape was restrictive, and set boundaries around the possible actions available to them. This is not to say that it took away their agency, only that their decisions were influenced by the reality of their situation. The nature of the slave experience resulted in their creation of a subversive landscape of their own. Through a variety of strategies, slaves chose to redefine and reuse the spaces where they were enslaved to create an alternative cultural landscape, demonstrated specifically throughout this study. Swept yards and subfloor pits expanded the available living space, and claimed the yardspace as an extension of the household space. The cook and other domestic laborers not only claimed ownership over spaces within the manor home, but used their positions within the home to access information from the planter class and to build and maintain community ties with slaves from other plantations. The wilderness, an otherwise unused space for planters, was repurposed by the enslaved for communal activities, or to supplement their diet through fishing, oystering, and crabbing. The effects of the slave trade on the family structure led the enslaved to redefine the slave household, developing a flexible household that could incorporate multiple dwellings and coresidential groups to create stability within the community. For each action of control Brome issued, the enslaved community sought ways to redefine that action to improve their quality of life or increase their likelihood of survival, and many of these decisions were manifest in the way they used space. 319 11.2 The Civil War The Civil War in St. Mary’s County unsettled the power relationship that Brome and his peers had established on and off their plantation. The decision by many plantation owners, Brome included, to participate in smuggling goods to the Confederacy ensured the presence of Union forces in the Potomac and on land. All of a sudden, the Southern Maryland planter class no longer controlled the external landscape, making it susceptible to escaping slaves. The presence of contraband camps at Point Lookout Prison and the Washington Naval Yard, and the opportunity to gain their freedom and to work, gave slaves even more incentive to escape. And they did: at St. Mary’s Manor, Brome not only lost his wharf to the War, but 14 slaves escaped the plantation, likely more then had escaped from Brome’s plantation total over the preceding decades. In 1863, the enlistment of northern slaves by Union forces brought the invasion to the plantation landscape. There is little doubt that Brome’s plantation was "invaded" by Union recruiting parties, composed almost entirely of US Colored Troops. William Gross’s note that he was taken directly “from the fields” suggests such, while the presence of Civil War era buttons at the location of the single and duplex quarter indicate they were actively recruiting in the enslaved households. By the time Emancipation happened, the writing was on the wall for Brome: he knew that slavery would not survive the War. For African Americans, their actions in the Civil War set the stage for their post-slavery experience. The ability to relocate to not only gain their freedom but also gain employment would be a trend that would continue. Contraband camps became some of the first black communities built outside the plantation landscape, and soon churches and schools would emerge within or near those communities. Members of the colored troops would return to their communities to take leadership positions, start community institutions, and help move the African Americans off the plantation. The disruption established by the Civil War, and the pressure towards Emancipation begun by escaping slaves, paved the way to independence. 320 11.3 Post-Emancipation and the Separated Landscape Brome’s post-war landscape continued to emphasize his efforts at controlling the mobility of laborers, while also attempting to reestablish his social and economic prominence after the War. In Maryland, the post-war economy differed from places in the deep South, and Brome’s choices about his agriculture, his investment in the railroad, and his decisions about black labor reflected the declining viability of cash crops. Immediately following the War, however, Brome made a substantial effort to retain black labor on his plantation for an entire crop cycle: he, like many former slaveowners, was terrified that, with their newfound mobility, black laborers would not stay on the plantation. Sharecropping was one way to make this arrangement possible, and, on paper, served as a benefit for Brome and black families: the latter received year round labor, while the former had an opportunity to profit from their labor. Brome also used the built environment on and off the plantation to make his plantation more enticing for black families. He allowed for the construction of additional dwellings on the landscape to accommodate family-based households, allowed current buildings to be upgraded through the addition of glass windows and wooden flooring, and donated land for a black schoolhouse. Over the ensuing decade, Brome began to move away from this method of labor, and reduced the amount of land dedicated to agriculture significantly. His position as a member of the Grange, his investments in the railroad, and his vision of turning his plantation into a town, likely reduced his interest in agriculture, although he continued to engage in it. Nonetheless, this reduced the demand for black labor on his plantation. The post-Emancipation period for the African American community was a time of movement, definition, and community building. In almost all instances, African Americans sought to create separation between themselves and white institutions that still operated within a racist framework. On the plantation, families were formed and the functions of the household fell under one roof. This was not only reflected through the sharecropping relationship with planters, but also in the efforts by family members to bring in supplemental income through the use of the waterways, working as domestic servants, or washing clothes for local institutions. The dwelling space on the 321 plantation also attempted to create distance and separation. The modifications made to the external space, such as adding window glass and building additions on the back, demonstrated visibly their ownership of their home. These efforts extended into their communal functions. While the plantation community disintegrated as Brome reduced his reliance on labor, the external plantation landscape served as a new scale for African American community formation. The erection of black schoolhouses, churches, and new towns and neighborhoods composed entirely of African American households made the black community visible on a new scale. They also emphasized the importance of creating separation: by creating separate institutions, blacks no longer had to modify an already existing landscape as they did during slavery. Instead, they could create separate, unique, independent, and safe institutions where they could congregate, build common bonds, start businesses, have families, and raise children. It provided spheres of safety, the type of safety that during slavery, they could only find within the small confines of their slave dwellings. 11.4 Freedom and Space Earlier in this research, freedom was a “product or series of individual and collective actions taken in opposition to oppression,” and was considered in the context of Dewey’s three criteria of freedom: the ability to carry out one’s plans without opposition; the ability to change those plans; and that the actors desire or choose to participate or enact those plans (Agbe-Davies, 2011). This research demonstrates that the use of space can serve as a critical tool for understanding how African Americans carried out these actions that led their freedom. During slavery, Brome restricted the ability for enslaved laborers to use the plantation landscape to carry out their own plans. Access to external spaces was restricted. Labor within the manor home and in the fields were under constant surveillance. Brome’s participation in the slave trade took little consideration for the wishes of families, dividing parents and children. None of Dewey’s criteria are met, as the enslaved could not carry out their own plans, could not change those plans, and had no desire to participate in Brome’s activities. 322 However, their actions reflected a desire for freedom. Redefining spaces on and off the plantation, both individually and collectively, were taken to gain some semblance of freedom. Eventually, as the Civil War took hold and cracks emerged in Brome’s control, the actions of enslaved laborers resulted in freedom for some: for the first time, the wishes of the enslaved, to be free from their enslavement, became a reality. Eventually, these actions led to full Emancipation. After slavery, Dewey’s criteria become more evident, but only in certain contexts, and only because of the way that African Americans modified and changed the landscape. In many spaces, this freedom was still restricted by racism, which effected many levels of government and local law. However, the separate cultural landscape that formed of black towns and neighborhoods, establishing black schools and churches, and claiming ownership over their homes, created a series of institutionalized places that racism did not touch. In these places, the black community could carry out plans without opposition, change those plans, and choose to participate in these plans. These places on the landscape, and the actions taken by African Americans to move from one to the other, demonstrate the importance of space to the conversation of freedom. It is no irony that it was from within these spaces that the African American community organized, fought, and marched for equal rights during the Civil Rights era. 11.5 Implications and Future Research Demonstrating the importance of mobility to the plantation experience and the agency of African Americans in creating spaces on and off the plantation are important to our understanding of plantations, but this research only scratches the surface on new ways of examining the material record. 11.5.1 The Enslaved Landscapes As discussed earlier, recent scholarship of the plantation has found that the enslaved defined the plantation landscape differently than their masters (Battle-Baptiste, 2011; Heath, 2012; Vlach, 1993), and this research further supports that understanding. However, by placing the enslaved 323 landscape in contrast to that of post-Emancipation, just how restricted the plantation was for enslaved laborers becomes more evident. This juxtaposition does not detract from the agency of enslaved African Americans, but it does highlight the context of enslavement, and how it circumscribed the ways slaves used, negotiated, and claimed space. For the enslaved, the strategy appears to be repurposing and redefinition of spaces already defined on the plantation, while after slavery efforts aimed to create new and separate landscapes. With this in mind, it is important to begin understanding spaces on the plantation traditionally reserved as "white" spaces and understand them also as "black" spaces. The analysis of the manor home in this research provides an important example. While some work has been done to address the complex relationship between the two groups living in the manor home, few scholars have interrogated the reuse of manor house space during slavery: how did African Americans carve out places on the household scale? Is there evidence of work yards being used as social spaces? These types of questions can help to bring a greater understanding to the importance of the manor home as a contested, complex space. 11.5.2 Off the Plantation Very often, plantation archaeologists restrict their analysis to the confines of the plantation. This is understandable: the plantation provides a spatially bounded laboratory for examining questions of cultural contact, power, resistance, agriculture, and many other anthropological questions. However, as this research demonstrates, the plantation must also be considered as part of a larger cultural landscape. Planters simultaneously participated in larger markets and systems that impacted the way they made decisions about their plantation, while also making decisions and changes that affected those larger systems. Brome’s activity demonstrates this perfectly. His use of the landscape during slavery as a performative space impacted the way that people saw his plantation, but also positioned his descendants to become stewards of the memorial and historical landscape. Similarly, Brome’s decisions to move away from agriculture after the Civil War and invest in railroading was an attempt to influence the broader economic landscape in St. Mary’s County, in 324 response to the changes that were brought by the Civil War. For African American plantation communities, our tendency is to have an even narrower focus on the slave dwelling. Recent scholarship has expanded that view to include yardspaces and to address relationships between and among planters and other slave households. However, an even broader approach can be gained by examining how enslaved African Americans accessed and used the external landscape. Research into consumption patterns has begun to explore this relationship, and very new scholarship has begun to question to intra-plantation communities that existed on the landscape. This type of work will aid in a greater understanding of the lives of African Americans, and understand their landscape in a more integrated and detailed way. Similarly, the post-Emancipation African American landscape must include a discussion of the off-the-plantation landscape. The movement of African Americans onto the regional scale makes this analysis elemental to understanding the post-Emancipation African American experience. Recent scholarship emphasizes this importance: The majority of the chapters in the recently published edited volume The Materiality of Freedom focus on spaces unrelated to the plantation. Churches, schools, and households should be the object of archaeological investigation, since they can tell us about the lives of the segment of the African American population who moved off the plantation. 11.5.3 Inside the Dwelling One area that this research was unable to cover it detail was the way that space was used within the dwelling, and this is not uncommon. For the most part, archaeologists have restricted their understanding of the interior spaces of slave and tenant cabins by focusing on the location of subfloor pits and hearths. This is due in large part to excavation techniques. At this site, for example, five-by-five foot units did not provide an appropriate scale to examine distribution patterns within the building. Collecting data on a smaller scale may provide an opportunity to understand how space was used inside these buildings. The use of space within dwellings was of interest in this research because of the comparative nature of the study, particularly in Chapter 9. The organization of space on the interior of the 325 dwelling could aid in understanding the coresidential makeup of the dwelling. Were there differences in the way that space was organized in a family household versus a mixed household? Are these changes visible through time? These are the type of questions that scholars have attempted to answer using subfloor pits, but investigating use of space through the distribution of artifacts within the household may create another avenue for answering these questions. 11.6 The 21st Century Landscape of St. Mary’s Manor Historic St. Mary’s City has been predominantly a museum focused on the interpretation of the 17th-century landscape of St. Mary’s City. While this has never come at the expense of the 19th-century archaeological remains, the standing architecture that remained from that period was relocated in 1992 to a different location on the site. At the time of this writing, the manor home and outbuildings serve as a bed and breakfast owned and operated by the Museum, and the duplex quarter has been used for storage until recently. The complication of interpreting and reconstructing multiple historical landscapes has been a challenge at HSMC. While the buildings were relocated, efforts were made at preserving the structure. A great deal of its original integrity had already been compromised: modifications made in the 1970s replaced most of the bottom half of the duplex’s siding, and the foundation had been repaired and patched with cement. The interpretive plans put in place by HSMC at that time also meant preserving the duplex as a slave quarter: this meant removing the glass windows and wooden floors added by the post-Emancipation inhabitants. Relocating the building revealed that the central chimney was in poor condition. The process of dismantling it revealed that many of the bricks were no longer intact. In its new location, which retains its original orientation and spatial alignment with the manor home, the building sits on a cement foundation, with bricks making up the upper courses. The chimney was rebuilt using new bricks, although the original wooden lintels were reused. Recent efforts, however, have begun to bring the 19th century landscape into sharper focus. The Mackall Barn remains in its original location, and has been fully restored and interpreted as a space to examine the agricultural history of Maryland. An opportunity to experiment with 326 recreating the 19th century interpretative landscape online has resulted in an interactive digital exhibit (http://stmaryscity.org/walktogether), based on the research in this project. Lastly, funding from the Maryland Commission for African American History and Culture has been secured to begin the necessary preservation efforts on the duplex quarter. The plan is to use the duplex as an interpretive exhibit, examining the period of slavery in one half and post-slavery in the other. The addition built by the Milburn family will be reconstructed, and used to interpret the 20th century occupation. The project is being coordinated in collaboration with descendants of the Milburn family, who have provided enthusiastic council on how to interpret the building. In the end, this restoration project is intended to examine the entirety of the African American experience at St. Mary’s Manor. Visitors will be able to experience the way the duplex quarter changed through time, and how the African Americans who lived in the building used and modified the space in and around their home to resist their bondage, gain their freedom, define their independence. It is our hope that this space, long abandoned, will once again serve as a place of importance. 327 APPENDICES 328 APPENDIX A CERAMIC TYPES The following table includes the divisions of ceramic counts and percentages for each ceramic decoration type used in the analysis in Chapter 6 for each archaeological component and the duplex and single quarters. The latter two sites relied on a sample of excavation units, while the ceramics from the archaeological components were collected using controlled surface collection. 329 Table A.1 Ceramic types at slave and tenant quarter sites. 330 Ceramics Single Quarter Duplex 141C (20) 141E (2) 143B (24) 139C (8) 139B (9) Type No. Percent No. Percent No. Percent No. Percent No. Percent No. Percent No. Percent Creamware 8 0.60% 7 0.70% 6 6.10% 2 4.10% 0 0.00% 1 2.10% 1 3.00% 19th Century Porcelain 87 6.20% 74 7.00% 2 2.00% 2 4.10% 1 2.10% 6 12.80% 7 21.20% Soft Paste Porcelain 16 1.10% 12 1.10% 5 5.10% 1 2.00% 3 6.30% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% Pearlware - Plain 23 1.60% 15 1.40% 5 5.10% 4 8.20% 4 8.30% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% - Painted 1 0.10% 3 0.30% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 1 2.10% 0 0.00% 3 9.10% - Edge Decorated 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 1 1.00% 0 0.00% 1 2.10% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% - Transfer Print 0 0.00% 2 0.20% 0 0.00% 1 2.00% 3 6.30% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% White ware - Plain 847 60.00% 524 49.90% 54 55.10% 21 42.90% 15 31.30% 20 42.60% 12 36.40% - Polychrome Painted 3 0.20% 3 0.30% 2 2.00% 2 4.10% 2 4.20% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% - Chrome Colors Painted 6 0.40% 7 0.70% 3 3.10% 1 2.00% 1 2.10% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% - Sprig Painted 2 0.10% 1 0.10% 0 0.00% 1 2.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% - Sponge 2 0.10% 25 2.40% 1 1.00% 1 2.00% 0 0.00% 1 2.10% 0 0.00% - Cut Sponge 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% - Open Sponge 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% - Annular 31 2.20% 27 2.60% 5 5.10% 2 4.10% 1 2.10% 0 0.00% 1 3.00% - Mocha 0 0.00% 1 0.10% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 1 2.10% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% - Transfer Print 53 3.80% 48 4.60% 6 6.10% 3 6.10% 11 22.90% 0 0.00% 3 9.10% - Edge Decorated, Neo Classical 9 0.60% 8 0.80% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 1 2.10% 0 0.00% - Edge Decorated, Unscalloped 38 2.70% 22 2.10% 0 0.00% 3 6.10% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% - Edge Decorated, Non-impressed 6 0.40% 4 0.40% 0 0.00% 1 2.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% Ironstone 81 5.70% 161 15.30% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 3 6.30% 6 12.80% 1 3.00% Yellow Ware 105 7.40% 35 3.30% 2 2.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% Rockingham Ware 16 1.10% 5 0.50% 1 1.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 4 8.50% 2 6.10% British Majolica 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% 0 0.00% Brown Domestic Stoneware 10 0.70% 4 0.40% 0 0.00% 1 2.00% 1 2.10% 3 6.40% 0 0.00% Gray Domestic Stoneware 67 4.70% 63 6.00% 5 5.10% 3 6.10% 0 0.00% 5 10.60% 3 9.10% TOTAL CERAMICS 1411 100.00% 1051 100.00% 98 100.00% 49 100.00% 48 100.00% 47 100.00% 33 100.00% Table A.1 Ceramic types at slave and tenant quarter sites. 331 330 APPENDIX B 1870 U.S. CENSUS The following table is of the 1870 U.S. Census listing from the First District of Maryland, St. Inigoes District (United States Census Bureau, 1870b). Specifically, it is a transcription of the dwellings listed immediately following John Mackall Brome, describing the African American households. 332 331 331 332 Real Personal Married Dwelling Family Name Age Sex Color Occupation Estate Estate Place w/in Attended Cannot Cannot deaf, No. No. Value Value of Birth the year School Read Write dumb etc. 91 91 Lucy Nelson 35 F B House Servant Pennsylvania x x Julius Nelson 12 M B House Servant Pennsylvania x x Abraham Lloyd 46 M B Farm Laborer Maryland x x Edward Biscoe 25 M B Farm Laborer Maryland x x Jack Biscoe 25 M B Farm Laborer Maryland x x Hilery Biscoe 22 M B Farm Laborer Maryland x x Jasper Brown 24 M B Farm Laborer Virginia x x Robert Brown 20 M B Farm Laborer Virginia x x Washington Holmes 21 M B Farm Laborer Virginia x x Adaline Biscoe 35 F B House Servant Maryland x x John Biscoe 10 M B Maryland x x Lilly Biscoe 8 F B Maryland Sarah Biscoe 4 F B Maryland Zoe Biscoe 2 F B Maryland 92 92 Ralph Butler 37 M B Farm Laborer Maryland x x Eliza Butler 35 F B Keeping House Maryland x x Lottie Butler 12 F B Maryland x Silvy (Sylvia) Butler 11 F B Maryland x x Ruth Butler 10 F B Maryland Emily Butler 9 F B Maryland Ann Butler 8 F B Maryland Jane Butler 6 F B Maryland Robert Butler 4 M B Maryland Frank Butler 2 M B Maryland Jack Butler 1 M B Maryland 93 93 Hiram Bennet 66 M B Farm Laborer Maryland x x Eliza Bennet 62 F B Keeping House Maryland x x Table B.1 1870 US Census of John Brome and African American Households in St. Mary's County. 332 333 Table B.1 (cont'd) 333 Real Personal Married Dwelling Family Name Age Sex Color Occupation Estate Estate Place w/in Attended Cannot Cannot deaf, No. No. Value Value of Birth the year School Read Write dumb etc. 94 94 Lott Biscoe 38 M B Farm Laborer Maryland x x Henrietta Biscoe 35 F B Keeping House Maryland x x Henryette Biscoe 9 F B At Home Maryland Julia Biscoe 14 F B At Home Maryland Peter Biscoe 3 M B Maryland John Biscoe 5 M B Maryland 95 95 Joseph Neal 37 M B Farm Laborer Maryland x x 96 96 Peter Biscoe 70 M B Farm Laborer Maryland x x Jane Biscoe 64 F B Keeping House Maryland x x Grace Biscoe 18 F B Farm Laborer Maryland x x Rebecca Biscoe 11 F B At Home Maryland x x George Whalen 40 M B Farm Laborer Maryland x x Mary Whalen 34 F B Keeping House Maryland x x Sarah Whalen 17 F B Farm Laborer Maryland x x Louisa Whalen 25 F B Farm Laborer Maryland x x Aaron Whalen 14 M B Farm Laborer Maryland x x Georgianna Whalen 9 F B Maryland Lucy Whalen 7 F B Maryland Lizzie Whalen 5 F B Maryland Robert Whalen 1 M B Maryland 333 334 Table B.1 (cont'd) Table B.1 1870 US Census of John Brome and African American Households in St. Mary’s County. 334 Real Personal Married Dwelling Family Name Age Sex Color Occupation Estate Estate Place w/in Attended Cannot Cannot deaf, No. No. Value Value of Birth the year School Read Write dumb etc. 97 97 John Bush 30 M B Farm Laborer Maryland Ann Bush 27 F B Keeping House Maryland George Bush 13 M B Maryland x Laura Bush 9 F B Maryland Argo Bush 2 M B Maryland William Bush 5 M B Maryland 98 98 Charles Biscoe 34 M B Farm Laborer Maryland x x Margaret Biscoe 34 F B Keeping House Maryland x x Robert Biscoe 15 M B Maryland x x Peter Biscoe 12 M B Maryland John Biscoe 9 M B Maryland Jacob Biscoe 7 M B Maryland Eliza Biscoe 5 F B Maryland Joseph Biscoe 2 M B Maryland 99 99 Peter Gough 46 M B Farm Laborer Maryland x x Harriet Gough 33 F B Keeping House Maryland x x John Gough 15 M B Farm Laborer Maryland x x Margaret Gough 12 F B At Home Maryland Margaret Gough 10 F B Maryland Rosa Gough 6 F B Maryland Elenore Gough 5 F B Maryland Ann Gough 2 F B Maryland Charlotte Gough 2 F B Maryland 334 335 APPENDIX C THIRD APPENDIX The following table is of the 1880 U.S. Census listing from the First District of Maryland, St. Inigoes District (United States Census Bureau, 1880b). Specifically, it includes the household of John Mackall Brome, and the likely homes of white and black families that lived in dwellings on his property. 336 335 336 2 3 x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x At School good good At School good At School good At School good At School good good At School good Farmer good Keeping House good Laborer good good good good At School good At School good At School good At School good None good Teaching School good Farmer good Keeping House good Laborer good Laborer good At School good At School good good x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x Table C.1 1880 US Census of John Brome and African American Households in St. Mary's County. 336 337 Place of birth Cannot Write Cannot Read Attended School Insane? Profession Farmer good Keeping House good idiotic? sick or disabled? Widowed Name of Person Color Sex Age John M. Broom W M 62 Susan M. Broom W F 60 Wife Sarah A. Broom W F 38 Daughter Charles Gardner W M 13 Nephew Anne B. Ashcomb W F 88 Mother Fannie Booth W F 15 Niece Lucy A. Booth W F 13 Niece Susan McKay W F 11 Cousin Lee E. McKay W M 9 Nephew Rosa McKay W F 5 Cousin Lee Thomas McKay W M 17 Cousin R. Grom (?) W M 3 Cousin 2 William Wilton W M 47 Catherine Wilton W M 42 Wife John L. Wilton W M 23 Son Mary E. Wilton W F 21 Daughter Laura E. Wilton W F 19 Daughter Clara M. Wilton W F 17 Daughter William Wilton W M 15 Son Katie M. Wilton W F 12 Daughter Carrie Brady W F 9 Cousin Samuel Brady W M 8 Cousin Blanch Brady W F 2 Cousin Thomas McGall W M 36 None 3 Griffin Lee B M 55 Harriet Lee B F 35 Wife Lewis Lee B M 30 Son Sanders Lee B M 16 Son Martha Lee B F 10 Daughter Julia Lee B F 8 Daughter Dillon Lee B F ## Mother Married Family No. 1 Single Dwelling No. 1 Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x good good good good good good good good good good good good good good good good good good good good good good good good good good At School good At School good good At School good good good good good Laborer Laborer At School At School Laborer Laborer Laborer At School At School At School None None Laborer Laborer Farmer Keeping House Laborer Laborer Laborer Laborer At School At School At School At School x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x Place of birth Attended School Insane? idiotic? Profession sick or disabled? Widowed Married Single Family No. 337 338 x Cannot Write 4 Name of Person Color Sex Age Nancy Taylor B F 66 None Carolina Navis B F 40 Sister Edgar Navis B M 14 Nephew Mallie Navis B F 12 Niece Charles Navis B M 10 Nephew 4 John Sommerville B M 26 Susan Sommerville B F 15 Sister Marg Hawkins B F 22 None Alex Braxton B M 13 Cousin Georgiana Braxton B F 9 Cousin Alice Braxton B F 7 Cousin Randolph Braxton B M 5 Cousin Francis Braxton B M 2 Cousin Samuel Braxton B M 21 Cousin William Braxton B M 19 Cousin 5 George Hopewell B M 50 Martha Hopewell B F 33 Wife Benedict Hopewell B M 21 Son Mary Hopewell B M 18 Daughter Willie Hopewell B M 17 Son Henry Hopewell B M 16 Son Douglass Hopewell B M 12 Son Saphonia Hopewell B F 10 Daughter Ardinia Hopewell B F 8 Daughter Annie Hopewell B F 7 Daughter Julia Hopewell B F 4 Daughter Joseph A. Bowman B M 13 Cousin Anne S. Bowman B F 11 Cousin Mary E. Bowman B F 3 Cousin Annie Bennett B F 12 Cousin Gabe A. Bennett B M 4 Cousin Mary L. Bennett B F 6 Cousin Chanty Bennett B F 3 Cousin Samuel Bennett B M 1 Cousin Cannot Read 337 Table C.1 1880 US Census of John Brome and African American Households in St. Mary’s County. Dwelling No. Table C.1 (cont'd) Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland Maryland APPENDIX D 1867 LIST The following table is of a list of enslaved property lost by John Mackall Brome and his mother Ann Ashcomb during the Civil War. The List was submitted to the Maryland Government in hopes of receiving compensation for their lost property (Dent, 1867). The "How Free" column lists the way that enslaved laborers achieved their freedom, with “State” meaning they were freed by the state of Maryland through Emancipation, “Left w Military” means they escaped with the Union soldiers, and “enlisted” means they enlisted with the Union Army. 338 339 M M F M F F F F F F M M F M F F F F F F M M M F F F F M F F F M F M F 55 30 30 10 9 8 6 4 2 55 30 30 22 8 7 6 4 2 25 1 25 44 40 30 13 10 6 40 18 8 4 65 55 28 27 How Free Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life State State State State State State State State State Left w Military Left w Military State State State State State State State Left w Military Left w Military Enlisted Left w Military State State State State State Left w Military Left w Military State State State State State State Emancipated by State; Left w/ Military; Enlisted* Term of Servitude 339 Hiram Bennett Ralph Butler Eliza Butler Samuel Butler Lottie Butler Sylvia Butler Emilia Butler Nannie Butler Eliza Butler Maria Biscoe Nace Biscoe Peter Gough Harriet Gough John Gough Margaret Gough Teresa Gough Rose Gough Elanor Gough Matilda Hopewell Betsy Hopewell Alexander Gough Jacob Clarke George Whaling** Mary Whaling** Sarah Whaling** Louisa Whaling** Georgianna Whaling** John Biscoe Maria Biscoe Elanor Whaling Lucy Whaling Peter Biscoe Fannie Biscoe Charles Biscoe Tildy Biscoe Sex Age Physical Condition Name of Slave Date Owner 12 March Dr. John M. 1868 Broom Compensation 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 10 August 1863 1 February 1862 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 1 February 1862 1 February 1862 1 April 1863 $100 from MD 5 March 1863 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 10 August 1863 10 August 1863 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 1 November 1864 Table D.1 1867 List of enslaved property lost by John Brome during the Civil War. 340 339 Richard Hornbo Elizabeth White Josephine White Jim White Henry Lee William Gross How Free M F F F M M F F M F M M F F M F F M F F M F M M M 55 22 19 14 21 17 10 7 4 20 18 35 30 12 10 6 4 44 27 62 30 21 80 21 16 Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good Good For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life For Life State Left w Military State State Left w Military State State State State State State State State State State State State State State Left w Military Left w Military Left w Military State Left w Military State M F F M M M 44 28 8 4 13 25 Good Good Good Good Good Good For Life State For Life State For Life State For Life State For Life Left w Military For Life State Sex Age 341 340 Emancipated by State; Left w/ Military; Enlisted* Term of Servitude 12 March Mrs Ann B 1868 Ashcomb Hiram Bennett Hiram Bennett Ada Biscoe Lottie Biscoe Grace Biscoe Jack Biscoe Hillary Biscoe Becky Biscoe Philo Biscoe John Neale Hilly Dyson George Dyson Lott Biscoe Henny Biscoe Julia Biscoe Henry Biscoe Dollie Biscoe Henrietta Biscoe Abraham Lloyd Zora Campbell Sallie Walthon Washington Walthon Sarah Jane Gross Thomas Whalte Ned Biscoe Lewis Lacy Physical Condition 340 Table D.1 1867 List of enslaved property lost by John Brome during the Civil War. 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