University of Nevada, Reno

Mastery & Material Culture in Colonial Virginia

A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the

requirements for the degree of Master of Arts in

History

By

Sara Garey-Sage

Dr. Cameron Strang/Thesis Advisor

May, 2020

Copyright by Sara Garey-Sage 2020 All Rights Reserved THE GRADUATE SCHOOL

We recommend that the thesis prepared under our supervision by

entitled

be accepted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of

Advisor

Committee Member

Committee Member

Graduate School Representative

David W. Zeh, Ph.D., Dean Graduate School i

Abstract

Virginia in the early eighteenth-century was undergoing extensive change. Wealth had recently boomed in the colony due to rising tobacco prices and increased land holdings, slavery was becoming firmly entrenched, and the gentry class continued to cement their place at the top of Virginia society. Men like William Byrd II, Robert ‘King’ Carter, and Landon Carter experienced the wealth and access to goods similar to their counterparts in the later eighteenth century, but, given the more fluid social relations of the 1700s, felt the need to communicate their identities and authority far more emphatically and frequently. Challenges to planters’ authority and influence—such as when they failed to obtain political appointments or when enslaved individuals were disobedient—constantly threatened their sense of elite masculinity. In response, wealthy planters performed their elite male identities via a form of absolute authority that historians often term mastery. This mastery encompassed their control (or attempts at control) over themselves, their wives and other women, their children, dependents in the community, and enslaved populations. Material objects were essential to asserting this authority.

Luxury items communicated their owner’s status, rationality, and wealth, while the utilitarian objects of plantation life functioned as material embodiments of the planter’s absolute authority.

Focusing on the overlapping domains of self-mastery and mastery over enslaved populations, this project argues that in eighteenth-century Virginia, elite male planters communicated, pursued, and solidified their mastery through the utilitarian and luxury material objects of their daily lives. Table of Contents

An Introductory Essay 1

Image Appendix 46

Bibliography 66 Mastery & Material Culture in Colonial Virginia 2

An Introductory Essay

On June 17, 1711, William Byrd II wrote the day’s events in his diary, as he did most

days. He recorded what time he woke, mentioned that he had read a few chapters in Hebrew in

the morning and some French in the evening, commented on the weather and what he ate, and

coyly noted that he gave his wife, Lucy Parke Byrd, “a flourish.”1 Keeping a daily diary was not

uncommon in the eighteenth century. Byrd’s several line entries, however, reveal far more than

most about the mindset, daily activities, and, crucially, material life of an eighteenth-century elite

planter. In examining his and other elite Virginians’ diaries, letters, and personal writings, two things become apparent: first, wealthy Virginians in the eighteenth century often felt the need to perform and reassert their authority and, second, material objects were powerful tools in these displays of power. Through offhand mentions of material objects in diaries, letters, and other written documents, scholars gain considerable insight into objects’ daily use and significance in early America.

Virginia in the early eighteenth-century was undergoing extensive change. Wealth had recently boomed in the colony as a result of rising tobacco prices and increased land holdings, slavery was becoming firmly entrenched, and the gentry class continued to cement their place at the top of Virginia society.2 The colony was increasingly connected to England and many

wealthy Virginians spent time in both places. The individuals of this era experienced the wealth

and access to goods similar to their counterparts in the later eighteenth century, but, given the

more fluid social relations of the early 1700s, felt the need to communicate their identities and

authority far more emphatically and frequently. Men like William Byrd II, Robert ‘King’ Carter,

and Landon Carter were typically born into wealth that had been accumulated by the previous

generation; they inherited large tracts of land and grew their holdings throughout their lifetimes. 3

They built and lived in fine Georgian homes on their plantations, using these spaces to display

their wealth and entertain other elites.3 They grew tobacco and owned slaves, acquiring more throughout their lives. After shipping their tobacco to England for sale, they purchased imported items, including fine fabrics, clothing, accoutrements of dining, and plantation supplies. They were educated in England or at one of the newer institutions in the colonies, most often studying law. When finished with their education, they served on the colonial government in the House of

Burgesses or in another official position. They married another member of the colonial gentry, ensuring their family’s legacy and building the interconnected dynasty that would become one of the hallmarks of colonial Virginia.4

Yet challenges to planters’ authority and influence—such as when they failed to obtain

political appointments or when enslaved individuals were disobedient—constantly threatened

their sense of elite masculinity. In response, wealthy planters performed their elite male identities

via a form of absolute authority that historians often term mastery. This mastery encompassed

their control (or attempts at control) over themselves, their wives and other women, their

children, dependents in the community, and enslaved populations. Rationality and self-control

(or self-mastery) were considered to be a hallmark of the gentry classes and used to justify the

immense authority of these individuals.5 Further, in the late seventeenth and the early eighteenth

centuries, mastery over enslaved individuals (and slavery as a race based institution) was

codified into law in Virginia.

Material objects were essential to asserting this authority. Luxury items communicated

their owner’s status, rationality, and wealth, while the utilitarian objects of plantation life

functioned as material embodiments of the planter’s absolute authority. Focusing on the

overlapping domains of self-mastery and mastery over enslaved populations, this project argues 4

that in eighteenth-century Virginia, elite male planters communicated, pursued, and solidified

their mastery through the utilitarian and luxury material objects of their daily lives.

In opposition to the long-standing narrative of increasing refinement in the eighteenth

century, the gentility expressed via imported luxury items was buttressed by the brutal authority

embodied in the utilitarian objects of an eighteenth-century plantation. In other words, gentility

was built on the mastery and violence inherent to the slave economy. Through the exploitation of

enslaved labor, these colonial planters obtained the wealth and status necessary to purchase the

objects of refinement and rationality. The violent culture of mastery provided the foundation for

gentility.

Gentility, its associated objects, and its definitive role in elite identity have been studied

extensively.6 However, the role of objects in mastery has been broadly neglected and the

connection between gentility and mastery has been overlooked. Despite the expansion of the

field in the last quarter of the twentieth century into the material lives of middle class, lower

class, and enslaved populations, the scholarship continues to focus on how objects

communicated class status in the eighteenth century, building upon the existing narrative of an increased desire for and access to the goods of refinement.7 In the past few years, scholars of

early American material culture, like Zara Anishanlin and Jennifer van Horn, have begun to

engage with the true nature of refinement in early America even as they continue to focus on the

objects typically associated with gentility and upper class identity.8 And yet, despite these

developments in the field, little work has been done examining the material culture of mastery.

In part, this stems from the field’s continued focus on northern and urban areas in early America

– while slavery certainly existed in these areas, they were culturally very different than the

plantation South. Further, in acknowledging that white, elite identity was structured in opposition 5

to that of enslaved Africans/African-Americans, Native Americans, and the lower classes,

scholars inadvertently treat these identities as separate rather than recognizing how elite identity,

particularly in the Southern colonies, was built on the backs of these dependent and exploited

groups. Utilizing both written and material sources, this project explores the material lives of

Robert Carter, Landon Carter, William Byrd II, and other wealthy Virginians to demonstrate how

the material culture of gentility and the material culture of mastery over enslaved individuals

worked in concert to strengthen, communicate, and assert elite authority and identity.

Because material objects are central to this analysis, this essay is paired with a digital

exhibit – allowing the material objects (and their images) to be front and center in the analysis.

The argument and analysis presented in this paper are embodied in the objects themselves and

elaborated through the exhibit’s labels. Because this essay and the exhibit are designed to work

together, the digital gallery follows much of the same organization as this essay. The “About the

Project” section introduces the themes and argument, then the exhibit delves into the objects of

self-mastery, the objects of mastery over enslaved individuals, and finally, the object

juxtapositions. This introductory essay and the digital gallery differ on one front, however; while

this essay presents the written evidence pulled from eighteenth-century sources and the

accompanying analysis first, before moving into a discussion of the relevant material objects, the

order is flipped in the digital gallery. The sub-pages of each section are focused on specific

objects or object types and the object analysis draws on the supporting written evidence. The

exhibit’s main page contains images of all the objects with links to the object analysis. 9 This design allows browsers to click on the first object that catches their eye while giving more narrative-driven observers the opportunity to explore the exhibit from start to finish. Material culture scholarship has always been intertwined with museum and object collections as much as 6

it is with the more traditional archive. As such, a project combining the methodologies of a

museum curator and a historian seemed most fitting for this topic.

Self-Mastery & Gentility

Throughout the eighteenth century, the burgeoning Anglo-Atlantic culture of gentility

became an essential part of Virginian elites’ authority and the colony’s social hierarchy. Broadly speaking, scholars use gentility to refer to the sets of behaviors, objects, and sensibilities of eighteenth-century elites. Gentility is often used interchangeably with refinement or even good taste. For elite, independent men, rationality and, more broadly, self-mastery were viewed as a defining features of their genteel identities. Central to this concept of rationality was the belief

that elite males were more in control of their passions than the dependent groups in colonial

Virginia, which included women, children, poor whites, and enslaved individuals. As historian

Anthony Parent put it, “order, moderation, and productivity” were essential traits of the

patriarch.10 These qualities coalesced into the general sentiment that was eighteenth-century self-

mastery. Self-mastery, in short, encompassed the gentility and rationality that defined an elite

male.

Because self-mastery was supported by gentility and vice versa, displays of elite status

were important expressions of self-mastery. Virginian planter William Byrd II summarized the

attitudes of the day when he wrote in his commonplace book that definitive of “the character of

a wise man” was keeping his passion in “in Due subjection” as he should his wife.11 Byrd’s

writings point to the eighteenth-century beliefs that linked dependence (or lack of independence)

with lack of control and rationality.12 It was therefore the responsibility of the self-controlled,

rational planter to take charge over any dependent groups, and the authority that came with this 7

position was his right as a result of his self-mastery. This perceived sense of superior self-control

was not only reflected in the presentation of gentility, but also justified and enforced the absolute

authority of the plantation owner in Virginia.13

Many scholars of early America have identified the importance of self-mastery in eighteenth-century Virginia and British Atlantic culture.14 Men like William Byrd II and Robert

‘King’ Carter wrote not only about their triumphs of rationality, but also about when they felt

their self-control was slipping. Infamous for the salacious details included in his writings, Byrd

makes many comments about his sense of self-mastery in his three surviving diaries and in his

commonplace book. When he strayed from the path of self-control, whether it be over-indulging

in food or drink, forgetting to pray, or pursuing a sexual liaison outside of his marriage, Byrd

would often finish the entry with “for which God forgive me.”15

Virginian planters’ anxieties about and efforts towards self-mastery were expressed via several types of behaviors, many of which they recorded in their personal writings. Many planters displayed an almost obsessive concern with their physical health. They documented any illnesses they experienced and what they used to treat said illnesses; noted the number and quality of their bowel movements; and made careful records of their diets when feeling unwell -

Byrd even devoted several entries to a discussion of his fundament.16 For example, on October

18, 1724, Robert Carter wrote “in the afternoon my Loosness returned had 4 or 5 stools before I

went to bed.”17 These preoccupations with crude bodily functions seem at odds with the genteel

Virginian (or at least with the image of gentility they sought to project). Regarding their diet,

some planters only noted what they ate and drank when they were experiencing discomfort or

attending a special meal. Frequently ill with gout in the last decade of his life, Robert Carter used

his diary to track his symptoms, diet, and overall health. On August 27, 1723, he wrote a very 8 long entry detailing what he ate and drank, his bowel movements, his quality of sleep, and how he was feeling overall. As one example of the numerous details Carter included in this lengthy entry on his health –

“I rise about 8 drank a pot Sage Tee, The Pain in my ankle continues as violent as ever

can ['t] stir my foot without being upon a rack cant stand without a Crutch & very badly

with one. was carried in a Cha [ir] into the Parlor at 11 a drank 3 dishes of Coffee &

milk...had the Barbar to Shave me eat a porringer of gruel wth Curr [an] ts pleased me

well had 3 loose stools.”

Clearly, Carter viewed food at least in part as medicinal and contributing to overall physical well-being. Good health was viewed as an outer reflection of inner morality; when their own bodies acted out, planters must have felt it as a betrayal of the control and order they worked so hard to maintain throughout the plantation landscape.

Displaying more rigidity and perhaps more concern about his self-mastery than his peers,

Byrd tracked what he ate and what exercise he completed on any given day regardless of his health. Throughout his life, Byrd kept a very careful diet and smugly included in his diaries when he did not overindulge, writing such things as “I ate nothing but dry beef, notwithstanding there were several other dishes” and another time that he “ate nothing but squirrel and asparagus.”18

When at home, Byrd typically “danced his dance”—a kind of calisthenics—early in the day and often walked about his plantation in the evening.19 On January 18, 1710, Byrd wrote in his diary

“then I danced my dance again because it rained that I could not walk out.”20 Given that Byrd made a point to exercise multiple times in a day, his daily exercise regimen was clearly important to him. Going beyond simple concern - Byrd wrote out his personal rules for diet and exercise in his commonplace book. These rules were most likely sourced from the numerous 9

medical texts Byrd read, thereby displaying his education and participation in the broader Anglo-

Atlantic intellectual world. They included “eat no more than one thing at a time,” exercise often,

and eat only when hungry. Further, Byrd believed only in eating fruit or something equally light

for supper in the summer months.21 On May 31, 1740, for example, Byrd wrote in his diary entry

“At night ate last supper of the year.”22 Displaying such restraint not only would have contributed to the physical health of the body (an outer reflection of inner morality), but also would have been another layer of performance that displayed control over his bodily urges.

Byrd’s tendency to succumb to temptation in other aspects of his life (namely extramarital sex) is one explanation for his obsessive focus on diet and exercise.23 His lack of control in one area of

his life would have required extra attention in others to maintain his image as the rational planter in control of his bodily urges.

Seemingly at odds with their careful attention to diet, elite Virginians often indulged in drinking chocolate, especially when entertaining or socializing.24 For example, on January 12,

1710, Byrd wrote that he “ate chocolate for breakfast with my company.”25 Serving his guests

chocolate demonstrated Byrd’s wealth and good taste; this type of stylish food & drink served in

an elegant manner would have been expected of someone of Byrd’s status. Robert Carter’s diary

also makes numerous mentions of chocolate consumption. One January 15, 16, and 18, 1726,

Carter recorded that he “eats chocolate.”26 As a hot, satiating beverage, chocolate certainly would

have been a treat during the cold winter months. During this period of 1726, Carter was also

unwell and his diary entries reflect a mild diet subsisting mostly of coffee, chocolate, and toast &

butter.

While his son, Landon Carter, does not mention consuming chocolate, in 1763, he

recorded in his diary that he ordered six pounds of chocolate from a London merchant. Clearly, 10

someone in his household was drinking and serving chocolate. Further, Henry Fitzhugh’s probate

inventory from 1742 lists a chocolate pot as part of the household contents of Fitzhugh’s Stafford

County plantation.27 These various records of chocolate consumption in elite households

throughout the eighteenth century point to the prevalence and popularity of the beverage in

colonial Virginia. Chocolate was undoubtedly very enjoyable to drink, but when done in a social

context, it had a clear performative function. Serving chocolate communicated an access to the

ingredients, ownership of the specialized material objects of its preparation, and overall,

participation in a broader community of good taste.

Though many developed a taste for chocolate in the eighteenth century, the beverage was

still a luxury. Not only was chocolate an expensive, imported good, but its preparation and

serving required specialized objects.28 As a result, serving and consuming chocolate was a clear

display of status and wealth. In Virginia’s elite households, enslaved cooks would prepare the

chocolate in the kitchen in a copper pot; it would then be served to guests in a specialized silver

or porcelain vessel.29 As it was consumed in the eighteenth century, chocolate was time and labor

intensive to prepare. The typical recipe not only required chocolate, but also sugar and spices -

two other, expensive imported ingredients.30 In 1724, Robert Carter noted in his diary that he

distributed sugar to several members of his household, including two pounds to Martha “for

chocolate.”31 Though in a pound to pound price comparison, chocolate was less expensive than

tea but more expensive than coffee, the amount of chocolate required to make a cup or pot was

far greater than that of tea or coffee.32 All three were genteel beverages in the eighteenth century

- most likely to be consumed in an elegant home or at a coffeehouse (a location of rationality when compared to the tavern). Chocolate was also associated with leisure in the eighteenth century. It was a beverage to be enjoyed while socializing and entertaining, not something to be 11

quickly consumed in between work. The cost of ingredients, the methods of preparation, and the

nature of its presentation all worked in concert to act as a display of status, wealth, and good

taste.

While the exact chocolate pot that William Byrd II or Robert ‘King’ Carter owned are not

known, fine silver examples from the eighteenth century give an indication of how these objects

functioned as status symbols. The objects of chocolate consumption, often made from luxury

materials like silver or porcelain, fit into the broader context of the genteel material world.

Though generally similar in form to a coffee pot, the eighteenth-century chocolate pot is

distinguished by a removal finial at the center of the lid.33 This finial allowed the molinet, stir stick, to be inserted - another specialized object associated with chocolate consumption. Two eighteenth-century silver chocolate pots in the Colonial Williamsburg (CW) collection

demonstrate how these objects reflected and communicated status. One of the chocolate pots is

from early in the eighteenth century (1701-1702) and was made by London silversmith William

Lukin.34 The bellied form of this pot is less common than the more typical straight-sided forms.35

This pot features Baroque ornamentation, including a cut-card decorative strip on the handle and

cast flowers, foliates, and shells on the spout and lid. These decorative forms are typical of the

period. The urn shaped finial at the top would pivot to allow the stir stick to be inserted. These

decorative elements and the energetic shape of this chocolate pot go beyond what is needed for

the basic function of the chocolate pot, but that does not mean that they are without a function

themselves. These elements, combined with the quality of workmanship and the high-quality

materials, would communicate to guests the host’s participation in the eighteenth century culture

of good taste and his access to fine, imported goods. 12

Demonstrating another form of an early eighteenth-century chocolate pot, the lighthouse style chocolate pot in CW’s collection was made in London by silversmith John Wisdom between 1708 and 1709.36 The body is straight-sided in form and the perpendicular spout and handle are common in chocolate and coffee pots from the late seventeenth and early eighteenth century. The finial is hinged to allow access for the chocolate mill. This pot features an engraved cypher - the letters CSR within a circle of decorative scrolls and flowers - placed on the face of the body opposite to the handle. This cypher would face the host’s guests when the chocolate was being poured. As a mark of personal ownership, the cypher demonstrated to all who saw it that the pot had been made for the family, enhancing its function as a communicator of status.

Though less decorated than the Lukin pot, the domed lid, flourishes on hinges, and engraved cypher show attention towards design and craftsmanship. These silver chocolate pots, with their highly specialized functions and luxury materials, displayed their owners’ gentility and good taste.

Given their overall concerns with health and moderation, the elite indulgence in chocolate is perhaps surprising. However, many in the eighteenth century considered chocolate to be medicinal. Material culture scholar Amanda Lange notes that “doctors believed chocolate could restore a person’s strength, keep the body fat and plump (then a sign of health and prosperity), aid digestion, clear the spirits (i.e. relieve depression or faintness), and prolong the lives of older people.”37 Given these beliefs, chocolate would have displayed gentility in two ways - it promoted good health and the host’s attention to good health (physical and behavioral expressions of their rationality) while also displaying their status (through the expensive imported ingredients and specialized, luxury objects). 13

In addition to behaviors like regimented diet and exercise, planters’ concern with their

health and appearance was also expressed via careful attention to dress. In his analysis of

eighteenth-century Virginia, Rhys Isaac notes that the “settings, costumes, and gestures” all

worked together to communicate one’s place in colonial society. Behavior and objects together

formed their own type of communication that was understood by members of society at various

levels.38 As the planter moved throughout colonial society, dress and action worked together to

communicate and justify the elite authority of wealthy planters. A healthy, well-dressed body

both reflected and communicated an individual’s self-mastery. In turn, these qualities would

have justified the authority (or mastery over others) that was part of elite status.

Dress was also an important communicator of hygiene in a time when bathing was not popular with Europeans and European colonists in Virginia. Instead, linen shirts and undergarments wiped away the grime from the body in a sort of dry bath. Easily soiled as a result

of this function, clean linen garments that maintained their bright white color required wealth

(the ability to own multiple garments of such high quality) and access to labor to launder these

garments. In this era, physical cleanliness was associated with moral superiority. As Byrd noted

in his commonplace book, “A Gross Body is very rarely the habitation of a great Soul.”39 As

such, the clean, well-maintained linen represented a clean, healthy body, which in turn reflected

the superiority that justified the authority of the elites. Wealth from enslaved labor and the

laundering of the garments by enslaved workers kept the garments clean. As the planter wore

these garments and moved on and off the plantation, his superiority would be seen and his

authority would be justified.

Numerous portraits of eighteenth century elite males reveal the presence of such high-

quality linen shirts in daily dress. Though done by different painters and in different years, there 14

are several commonalities in the portraits of William Byrd, Robert ‘King’ Carter, Landon Carter,

and other wealthy Virginians. First, portraits of elite, male Virginians are typically three-quarter length and feature their subjects standing, turned slightly towards the viewer. The subjects have a serious, direct gaze and straight posture. They are dressed in high quality fabrics and are bewigged, as befitting a member of the planter aristocracy. Historian Jennifer van Horn argues that the upright carriages, clear gazes, and fine fabrics typical of an eighteenth-century elite portrait sitter were to communicate the triumph of the rational and regular over the grotesque.40

The background of the portraits are frequently landscapes, underscoring their position as

landowners. Further, portraits of elite men typically featured references to the outside world—

globes, ships, and more— referencing their influential place in society outside of the home.41

Although they are idealized and constructed depictions, portraits can be highly

informative to how the sitter might have looked and dressed throughout their life. For one, these

portraits reveal the types of fine fabrics worn by elite Virginians. They also confirm that these

men wore wigs – or at least, that they wanted to be perceived as wig-wearers. As members of the

Virginia gentry, men like Byrd, Robert Carter, and Landon Carter wore wigs to display of their

status and wealth. On October 23, 1709, Byrd wrote in his diary that “Daniel came and shaved

my head.”42 Custom-made for each individual’s head shape and size, wigs required a shaved

head to ensure a proper fit. Robert Carter’s diary features similar offhand mentions that confirm

he wore a wig. His diary entry from July 5, 1724 mentions a hair bag and powder, both auxiliary

objects in the act of wig-wearing.43 More directly, Landon Carter’s diary specifically notes that

on November 20, 1770, he paid Richard Charleston for his wig.44 Historian Anthony Parent notes

that wigs were an essential symbol that commanded deference in colonial Virginia, and displays

of deference were central to the patriarchal hierarchy of the eighteenth-century Atlantic World 15

within which Virginia was ensconced. 45 Many planters viewed deference as essential to maintaining the racial and social hierarchies that were established when Virginia transitioned to a slave economy. Much like with other luxury objects, wigs indicated the wealth to not only purchase the object, but also the access to labor to maintain the object.

Close examination of the portrait of William Byrd II, attributed to the studio of Godfrey

Kneller, reveals how these objects might have functioned both as a presentation of elite identity

and as a reflection of that status. Painted between 1704 and 1705, this portrait of Byrd shares

many of the same features as other portraits of the colonial elite. It is a three-quarter length

portrait, with Byrd standing turned slightly towards the viewer. His proper left hand rests on his

hip and his proper right hand gestures towards the landscape in the background.46 Byrd wears a

long, full curly wig. His jacket, which is ornamented with metal buttons, is cut away at the

sleeves and open at the front to show the high-quality linen shirt he wears and the separate ruffle

at his neck. Draped around him is a coppery, luminous fabric (resembling silk) and the hilt of a

sword is visible by his side. The sword is a symbol of his gentlemanly status (and reflects the

courtly high-style nature of the Baroque), but viewed next to the fine silk fabric, it represents the

dual faced nature of elite male identity. Refinement and violence went hand in hand for the

wealthy planter.

This portrait also reveals much about how Byrd wished to be perceived and

memorialized. First, his manner of dress reflects his wealth and status. Byrd’s wig would have

been an expensive piece, given the quantity of hair needed for that length and volume, and it

reflected the courtly high-style of the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. As

previously mentioned, his linen shirt is a bright white and of high quality, pointing towards

Byrd’s access to goods and labor (underscoring his status as a Virginia planter) and his superior 16

morality and civility (both what one would expect of a member of the gentry and a point in

support of his status). The sword, which seems out of place to the modern eye for a Virginia

planter, was a symbol of Byrd’s status as a gentleman. The landscape in the background draws

attention to Byrd the landowner, an important indicator of wealth and status in British culture. As

previously mentioned, Byrd’s portrait is attributed to the studio of Sir Godfrey Kneller. Though

most of his paintings came from private commissions, Kneller was the principal painter to the

English king at the time. In commissioning Kneller to paint his portrait, Byrd was placing

himself among the tradition of English aristocracy and firmly drawing connections to his time in

England. This portrait hung in his home at Westover Plantation when he returned to Virginia and

formed part of the collection of portraits of friends and family that he amassed throughout his

life. Portrait collecting was another way that wealthy Virginians emulated English gentry life and

placed themselves within the Anglo-Atlantic community of good taste.47 In displaying and

collecting portraits of his family and friends in both England and Virginia, Byrd demonstrated

his own well-connected place in colonial society. He could not only afford to have portraits painted of his family members, but also had the space to display these portraits and was well-

respected enough to associate with earls and other members of British nobility. In drawing

attention to his influential connections, Byrd also communicated his influence and authority in

the Anglo-Atlantic world.

As material objects, these portraits were status symbols in their own right - less than one

percent of individuals had portraits painted in America in the eighteenth century.48 Owning a

formal portrait and the images within said portraits communicated the sitter’s good taste and

socioeconomic status in a clear message to a planter’s peers, guests, and dependents. These

portraits of eighteenth century elites also function as a type of visual biography - they can inform 17

the modern viewer about how eighteenth-century planters viewed themselves, how they wished

to be viewed by others, what they wore, and how they looked. Art historian Wayne Craven

identifies colonial portraits as containing what he calls “the decorum of the portrait” - they can

reveal the sitter’s social, religious, economic, and even intellectual aspirations.49 These

depictions can be highly informative, but it is essential to acknowledge that portraits were

inherently constructed and idealized versions of individuals. For example, Byrd’s high-style

portrait done by an English court painter should not be taken as confirmation of his position

within the English court – instead, it should be interpreted as confirmation of his aspirations to be viewed as on par with the English landed gentry. These portraits of elite Virginians communicated status in two ways - in the refined images it presented of the sitter and as a luxury object in its own right.

Self-mastery was not only displayed via physical qualities such as hygiene, health, and dress. In support of their rationality, elite planters were quick to display their education and intellectuality. Many eighteenth-century planters housed impressive collections of books in their plantation homes. It is estimated that Byrd had over 3,000 titles in his personal library and he noted proudly in his diary when a guest complimented him on his collection.50 Byrd recorded in his diary that he read nearly everyday. He had a reading knowledge of five languages and read

from such classical titles as Homer’s The Odyssey.51 The probate inventory taken at the time of

Robert Carter’s death lists numerous books, including histories, religious texts, legal texts,

medical texts, and more. Wealthy Virginians were often sent to England in their youth to be

educated and would have prided themselves on their intellectuality. As Byrd’s diary entries and

the literary holdings of other wealthy Virginians demonstrate, libraries and book collections were

another object group that reinforced their owner’s rationality and good, refined taste. 18

Another elite behavior was the very act of keeping a diary. A particularly interesting

material embodiment of self-mastery, these small volumes recorded not only the events of their

elite owners’ daily lives, but also the challenges to their authority and their answering attempts to

reassert their superiority. It begs the question - who were these planters recording these successes

and failures for? Byrd’s diary catalogued not only his triumphs of self-mastery, but also served

as a record of his anxieties about breaking his rules and when his self-mastery momentarily

failed. For example, Byrd wrote “I did not observe my rule at dinner, for which God forgive

me.” Similarly, in February of 1709, Byrd wrote “I transgressed my rule at dinner by eating a

second dish.”52 Byrd’s diary is particularly interesting because it was written in a secret code.

Byrd’s notation of these slip-ups indicates his anxieties about his self-mastery. But in recording

these moments when mastery failed – whether it was a enslaved individual engaging in

resistance, an argument with a family member, or even poor health - the planters overlaid their

notions of order to the situation. Landon Carter may have frequently felt that the enslaved

individuals at Sabine Hall disregarded and challenged his authority, but in recording the event

and his reaction (usually physical punishment of the offender), he maintained his rationality via

the written record of the ultimate success of his authority. Keeping a diary was a less publicly

performative behavior than serving chocolate from a fine silver pot or moving about society in

fine clothes and an expensive wig, but the very act of recording a day’s events (including any

challenges to authority) gave the planter a chance to express their anxieties about their position

and celebrate their triumphs of mastery.

Reputation was an important part of status in colonial Virginia. Planters, rather than purchasing goods using cash, were part of the Atlantic world’s tobacco credit economy. They would ship their tobacco to tobacco factors in England and send requests for goods they wished 19

to be sent back to them in return. In colonial Virginia, therefore, reputation influenced credit and credit meant access to goods, which then contributed to and communicated status. That status, then, in a never ending cycle, supported the planter’s reputation, which meant authority and access to goods. As such, it is not surprising that planters placed such importance on their sense of self -mastery and mastery over dependents. In early eighteenth-century Virginia society, dependence and indebtedness (a form of financial dependence) were seen to come from

“luxurious exuberance.”53 Good sense, then, was an essential piece in maintaining independence

and authority. Much like the never-ending cycle of credit, reputation, and goods, self-mastery

was reflected in independence, which then allowed for the mastery over others that supported the

wealth, status, and access to goods that communicated good taste and rationality.

Elite status was inherently linked to self-mastery. Self-mastery led one to being

considered genteel and the behaviors of gentility in turn reinforced the idea of an individual

being in control. The ownership and use of status goods such as chocolate pots, fine linens, wigs,

books, and all the other items of the elite sensus communis depended on access to labor. In

eighteenth-century Virginia, this meant the exploitation of enslaved labor. These behaviors and

objects worked in concert to solidify and communicate the self-mastery that justified the elite,

absolute authority of the eighteenth-century plantation.

Mastery over Enslaved Individuals

Hidden behind this rationality, however, was a brutal reality. As historian Tristan Stubbs

notes, “in the patriarchal age, slave owners’ focus on reason, duty, and responsibility masked the

true character of plantation power.”54 Violence played a central role on the eighteenth-century

plantation and many scholars have written on this.55 Few, however, have considered the role of

the material objects of punishment in plantation authority. The punishments recorded in diaries 20

and letters reveal the types of objects that were used - whips, bits, chains, branding irons, knives,

and even seemingly harmless items like drinking vessels. Few of these types of objects have

been preserved in museum collections and, unlike the fine silver objects, lustrous fabrics, and oil

paintings, they are unlikely to make an appearance in an exhibit on the material culture of

colonial Virginia.56 Nevertheless, whips, bits, and other brutal implements of punishment are an

essential part of the story of Virginia. It is important to recognize that planters’ access to the

material objects of gentility resulted from their exploitation of enslaved labor. And the objects of

punishment were key tools in this exploitation. Just as material objects played an essential role in

communicating gentility and self-mastery, objects of punishment were key in the assertion of

mastery over enslaved individuals.

Much like they recorded attempts at self-mastery, the personal diaries of elite Virginians

reveal the frequent ways that enslaved individuals challenged the authority of plantation owners.

Robert Carter, for example, documented numerous instances of his gardener’s insubordination.

On July 12, 1723, he wrote that “gardener disobeyed my orders about…” (the rest of the original

document has worn away) and then again on August 2, 1723, he wrote that the gardener treated

him “very saucily” and gave “many other impudent answers wch [sic] were too many to

repeat.”57 Clearly, Carter was irked enough by these instances to include them in his diary.

Similarly, Landon Carter’s diary contains numerous entries commenting on the “villainous lazyness” of the enslaved individuals on his properties.58 He complains about enslaved

individuals feigning illness, drawing various jobs out, general laziness, and an overall lack of

obedience. These accounts and complaints can be read against the grain to identify instances of

slave agency and passive resistance in colonial Virginia.59 Planters treated any and all challenges

to their authority with the utmost severity. As historian Kathleen Brown writes, “maintaining 21

authority thus required constant vigilance against even small usurpations of power.”60 Other

scholars writing on the dynamics of eighteenth-century Virginia have pointed towards the

“fragility of planter’s mastery” as contributing to the their almost obsessive need for control,

particularly over the enslaved individuals on their plantations.61 A lack of control over

dependents, in this instance enslaved individuals, reflected back onto the planter himself and his

own rationality and sense of mastery.

To maintain their fragile authority on the plantation, planters frequently responded to challenges and misbehaviors with harsh physical punishments. In the early eighteenth century, violence was very much an acceptable and even expected part of patriarchal authority on and off the plantation.62 In fact, by 1705, the right of white slave-owners to wield weapons and violence against enslaved individuals (and the corresponding forbiddance of enslaved individuals to do the same, even in self-defense) had been coded into law in Virginia.63 Statute XXXIV of this

1705 act states that “if any negro, mulatto, or Indian, bond or free, shall at any time, lift his or

her hand, in opposition against any christian, not being negro, mulatto, or Indian, he or she so

offending shall, for every such offence, proved by the oath of the party, receive on his or her bare

back, thirty lashes, well laid on.” The same statute delineates that even if a master, owner, or

other person killed an enslaved individual as a result of punishment, they would not be held

responsible by the law and it would be “as if such incident had never happened.”64 In fact,

depending on the situation, the slave owner might be reimbursed by the courts for the loss of his

or her property.65 The 1705 Virginia Slave Code also made it illegal for anyone to “whip a

christian white servant naked, without an order from a justice of the peace.”66 These laws

codified the white right to violence against enslaved bodies and the white right to be protected

from the same violence applied to enslaved individuals. In other words, absolute mastery, which 22

included the right to enact violence even to the point of dismemberment or death, over enslaved

bodies became, for men like Byrd and Carter, part of their legal rights and societal status as free

white men and slaveowners.

Writings by eighteenth-century Virginia planters mention the type and variety of cruel physical punishments and shed light on the type of material objects used to punish and inflict pain upon enslaved individuals. Throughout his surviving diaries, Byrd details how and why he punished members of Westover’s enslaved populations. Most often, he had his slaves whipped or beaten.67 On June 10, 1709, Byrd noted that “Eugene was whipped for running away and had the

[bit] put on him.”68 This quote in particular reveals two different types of material objects used

by Virginia planters to punish enslaved individuals. Further, on September 3, 1709, Byrd wrote

that he “beat Jenny for throwing water on the couch.”69 While it is not clear what exactly beating entailed, this instance of punishment features the interplay of the two facets of Byrd’s elite identity. In throwing water on the couch, Jenny (in Byrd’s mind) not only challenged his authority as the plantation master but also potentially damaged a material reflection of his gentility. Robert Carter’s diary also features mentions of such standard punishments. On

November 26, 1722, “Billy was whipped and branded” and on June 19, 1725, he noted that he

“whipped Billy severely.”70

In spite of their clear prevalence in colonial Virginia, few eighteenth-century whips have

survived in museum and archival collections. The National Museum of African American

History and Culture (NMAAHC) has three whips from the late eighteenth century in their

collection. These whips were owned by British abolitionist Charles James Fox and though their

place of origin is presumed to be the Carribean and they were most likely never used, they can

shed light on what form whips used in Virginia might have taken. One of the three whips (Object 23

No. 2010.21.1.2) features a braided leather handle and a single lash made from a strip of hide.

The end of the handle has a hide loop to allow the whip to be hung from a hook - comparing this

whip to others in the NMAAHC reveals that this was a common feature. This detail on its own

points to the purely utilitarian design of this object. The only thing even vaguely ornamental is

the braided leather handle - in reality, however, this detail was most likely to improve the grip on

the handle and therefore, to increase its efficacy and not its decorative appeal. Despites its very plain appearance, because of the torture and punishment it inflicted, the whip would have been an incredibly powerful material embodiment of the authority of the planter.

More so than wealthy Virginians, Landon Carter wrote about his thoughts on the villainy on the enslaved individuals on his properties.71 Like other planters, Carter utilized physical punishment to assert his mastery over enslaved men and women. His diary entries reflect his thoughts on the efficacy of physical punishment in improving behavior. On February 28, 1757, the slaves threshing wheat were “severely whipped day by day” as a result of doing what Carter considered to be an improper job. In February of 1770, Carter had spinners whipped for working less efficiently because they believed he was off the plantation. Carter’s commentary in both of these instances reveal his attitude that the enslaved populations under his authority constantly sought to thwart him. On March 5 1757, Carter noted that he was obliged to make three enslaved individuals “work in Chains” since they were runaways.72 Physical punishments, it seems, could

continue long after the initial offense. Similarly, twice in the fall of 1770, Carter punished

Nassua for drunkenness by locking him in handcuffs or irons.73 It was standard for Carter to

respond to challenges with his authority or enslaved individuals acting against his wishes by

utilizing physical punishment. But more so than other planters, Landon Carter directly linked 24 punishment to challenges to authority rather than recording it as a specific punishment for a specific action.

Clearly, Landon Carter viewed irons and chains as effective punishments and as deterrents for further actions of agency by enslaved individuals. The CW collection includes a pair of eighteenth century leg shackles made from iron, copper, and steel.74 According to the interpretation within CW’s object record, the first ankle would be secured by looping the length of chain through the eyelets and then the second would secured with a padlock. Much like the

NMAAHC whip, these shackles feature no ornamentation and the material was chosen for its efficacy, rather than for an aesthetic or monetary value. Every aspect of this object’s design acts in service to its primary utility - to bind enslaved bodies. Enslaved individuals were already legally bound to the slave-owning planters and elite whites did their best to control the physical lives of enslaved individuals through dress, diet, and limiting their movement off the plantation.

These shackles took the planter’s control over the body over the body a step further. As a result, it also extended the inherent dependence of the enslaved individual. Already reliant on the planter for the material conditions of their lives (no matter how meager), the enslaved individual in the vulnerable position of being shackled would also now be dependent on the planter for access to their body’s full range of motion and their physical independence.

Shackles were not an intentional status symbol like an imported luxury item would have been, but nevertheless had profound meaning as a reflection of the planter’s power. Just over thirty inches in total length, these shackles would have strictly restricted the wearer’s movement.

They would have been able to walk, but most likely would not have been able to run. Further, the metal would have chafed against the skin and would have reflected the outside temperature, feeling very cold in winter and very hot in the Virginia summers. These and other forms of 25 shackles would not only have caused physical pain, but also would have communicated a strong message about the planter’s control over the body. This very material restriction of movement and infliction of pain on the body added yet another level to the planter’s cruel dominion over enslaved populations.

Though whippings, beatings, and use of shackles were far more common, planters sometimes demonstrated a cunning cruelty in the specificity of their prescribed punishments.

Twice in December 1709, Byrd forced Eugene, an enslaved member of his household, to “drink a pint of piss” as punishment for peeing the bed. Previously in December, Eugene had been whipped twice for the same offense and an enslaved woman, Jenny, was whipped “for concealing it.”75 That Byrd first utilized a more standard punishment reveals the thought he put into his punishments. Further, that Jenny was punished for attempting to conceal Eugene’s incontinence points to how strictly Byrd viewed his dominion. Jenny hiding a punishable offence from him was as much of a challenge to his oversight as the planter as the offence on its own.

Forcing Eugene to drink urine was a perversion of the existing dynamics of the planter as providing food and drink (no matter how meager) to the inhabitants of the plantation. The planter could reward enslaved individuals with food and drink or could punish them by forcing them to consume non-food and drink based substances.

Just over a year later, Byrd punished another enslaved man, Redskin Peter, for pretending to be sick (according to Byrd) by putting a “[branding-iron] on the place he complained of.” The next day, Byrd recorded that “Redskin Peter was particularly well and worked as well as anybody.”76 Byrd clearly saw no adverse effects from this cruel treatment, but rather only its effectiveness in motivating enslaved individuals to work. In September of 1722, Robert Carter requested and received permission from the county court to cut off Madagascar Jack’s toe. A few 26

days later, Dr. Mann cut off all the toes on one foot to keep him from running away and with the

intent of “terrifying others from the like practice.77 The right to dismember to discourage

running away and to send a powerful visual message was part of the Virginia Slave Code

(Statute XXXVVII), indicating that the efficacy of punishment was acknowledged on a colony-

wide scale and coded into the legal fabric of Virginia society. On December 26, 1740, Byrd

punished three enslaved individuals for leaving the plantation and staying away overnight by

giving them a vomit, “which did more good than a whipping.”78 Again, that Byrd acknowledged the unpleasantness of a medicinal purge or vomit and utilized that physical discomfort to his advantage demonstrates his intentionality in punishing the enslaved population at Westover. As planters often medicated their slaves (another form of bodily control), using medicine for these purposes underscored the power of the planter over the physical health of enslaved individuals - whether it be improved through curative medicines or worsened by cruel punishments.79

Examples such as Madagascar Jack’s dismembering reveal the immense visual power of

these punishments. The Virginia elite was well aware of these lasting impacts. In a 1727 letter,

Carter advised his property manager, Robert Jones, to receive permission from the court if need

be to cut off an enslaved man’s toes, noting that he had “cured many a negro of running away by

this means.”80 Similarly, discussing past misbehaviors of enslaved women in his diary, Landon

Carter noted that Criss of Mangorike had run away in the past, but “when catched by a severe

whipping has been a good slave ever since.”81 They were also aware of the power of the

spectacle of punishment.82 In March of 1770, Landon Carter punished a slave for temporarily

running away, noting in his diary that the slave “had his correction for run away [sic] in sight of

the people.”83 27

The lasting marks on a body from whipping, burning, or dismemberment served as a physical reminder of the repercussions of challenging the planter’s (or the overseer’s) authority not only for the punished individual, but also for those he or she came into contact with. Even long after the punishment had been meted out, the scars remained to communicate the absolute authority of the plantation owner and what would happen if that authority was challenged. Public punishments ensured that the moment of punishment would be viewed and remembered by many beyond just the punished individuals - this, in turn, would serve as a deterrent to others. Beyond just the visual, punishments meted out via material objects had auditory and tactile power. Whips cracked, chains jangled, and branding irons sizzled. These sounds would be unmistakable. Just as scars or punishments like the bit sent a powerful visual message to those on the plantation, so to would the sounds of punishment as they traveled through the outdoor spaces of the plantation landscape. Further, these objects all had specific tactile associations. As previously mentioned, the iron of chains and shackles would have reflected the outdoor temperature and chafed against the skin. Seeing or hearing another enslaved individual in chains would remind a viewer of the feeling of this iron against the skin and the awkward movement of a bound body. These sounds and sights would be reminiscent of the agony experienced by an individual or witnessed as another individual on the plantation experienced it. This sensory power and the accompanying memories of punishment were at times enough to dissuade enslaved individuals from disobeying again. Byrd wrote that he “threatened Anaka with a whipping if she did not confess the intrigue between Daniel and Nurse” and Landon Carter wrote that when several enslaved women approached him pretending to be ill, he ordered them “to their work upon pain of a whipping.”84

Planters also used iron collars to punish enslaved individuals, restrict their movement, and to shame them.85 Much like shackles and the bit, iron collars not only physically punished 28 slaves through the pain they provided, but also clearly demonstrated to others on the plantation the consequences of disobeying. These three items potentially would have been worn while the individual continued to work, ensuring that other enslaved individuals came into contact with the both punished individual and the object of punishment. An iron collar in the NMAAHC demonstrates how these collars might have looked. Featuring two pieces of iron that are hinged in the back, it locks in the front. The original key and lock have been retained with the collar.

The act of locking the collar had profound performative meaning - it demonstrated to the enslaved individual and any witnesses the planter’s control over the enslaved body. The collar would not be unlocked until the planter, or his proxy, determined that it was time. Other planters used collars to mark enslaved individuals as their property.86 Like the shackles, this iron collar would have irritated the skin as it grew hot in the summer or cold in the winter, increasing its discomfort. Shackles, collars, and chains were all items that were used to keep enslaved men, women, and children in bondage and under the control of the planter while simultaneously displaying the planter’s power to other enslaved peoples and his white peers.

Whips, bits, branding irons, shackles, and all the other objects of punishment had strong sensory, physical, and material power. Because of the actions they performed and authority they embodied, they also held immense meaning relating to the hierarchy in Virginia. Physical dominance and cruelty were part of the legal rights of slave owners (and their overseers, acting on behalf of the slave owners) and therefore part of their broader identity and status as the

Virginia gentry. Objects like a whip, the bit, or iron shackles played an essential role in communicating and supporting the absolute authority of the master. These objects were material embodiments of the planter’s complete authority to punish when, how, and to whatever degree he saw fit. Their use (within the context of punishment) was restricted to elite white men. Much 29

like access to a luxury object was dependent based on economic status, access to the utilitarian

objects of punishment was restricted based on racial and legal status.

The objects of punishment conveyed a very different type of authority and status than the

silver chocolate pot, but nevertheless were part of the material culture of elite authority in

eighteenth-century Virginia. Even though they rarely show up in wills or probate inventories,

their status as utilitarian, everyday objects highlights what they can reveal about life on a

Virginia plantation. These objects, and the role they played in elite identity, must not be excluded

from the broader material culture of the Virginia gentry.

Gentility and Mastery in Conversation

Putting the objects of self-mastery and mastery over enslaved individuals into

conversation demonstrates how these two types of mastery formed the dual faces of elite male

identity. These objects worked in concert to present the complete image of elite authority in the

eighteenth century. In eighteenth century Virginia, economic, social, and racial status all worked

together. As such, analyses of early American material culture must expand to view all the object

types that strengthened and communicated authority.

Linen Vs. Linen

Thinking first about two very similar objects types, juxtaposing the type of fine linen

typically worn (and used) by elite planters and the osnaburg linen typically used for slave

garments reveals how comparison heightened the status messages inherent to dress and

appearance.87 Elite Virginians wore and used a finely-woven, bleached linen (often referred to as

Holland by eighteenth century writers). In July 1723, for example, Robert Carter gave his

daughter, Anne Carter Harrison, several yards of damask linen and holland linen that he had recently purchased.88 Linen was an important indicator of status in the eighteenth century. A 30 labor intensive fabric to produce, it was desirable for its ability to be bleached a bright white and for its ability to be laundered. High quality linens, woven from finer threads and with a higher thread count, were particularly labor intensive to produce. In particular, the linen shirt was viewed as a sign of civility and a clean shirt was associated with superior hygiene.89 Therefore, the ownership and wearing of high quality, clean linens reflected good hygiene and was one more piece in the puzzle of gentility that justified the absolute authority of elites. Historian

Kathleen Brown states that “elite, cosmopolitan Europeans distinguished themselves from the vulgar in the effortless ability to achieve mastery over their own natural body.”90 Clean linens demonstrated this mastery over the body, which in turn supported mastery over dependents.

As a result of their wealth, elite Virginians owned multiple versions of their linens

(undershirts, shifts, bedsheets, etc.) thereby making it easier to protect these linens from the wear and tear of repeated, day after day use. And because of their access to labor (primarily enslaved), these high-quality linens could be laundered more often (another labor intensive process) and retain their pristine white color. In contrast, osnaburg was a coarse, undyed linen or hempen fabric and was typically used for such utilitarian purposes as sacking, bagging, and trousers.

Runaway notices from the period often describe the enslaved individuals as wearing osnaburg or another coarse fabric.91 As planters moved through plantation landscapes, whether socializing or surveilling, the visual and material contrast between these two fabrics would have been stark and each would have presented clear-cut messages about the status of its wearer.92 Demonstrative of the sheer difference in the quality of these two types of fabric, a piece of fine, white linen in the

CW collection features over 120 threads per inch, while a piece of linen sackcloth was woven with 20 threads per inch.93 31

While they themselves would have had extensive wardrobes, planters were not overly

generous in the clothing they provided to their plantations’ enslaved populations. Landon Carter,

writing in response to a critique of his plantation management, noted that he “allowed them but

one shirt...my people always made and raised things to sell and I obliged them to buy linnen to

make their other shirt instead of buying liquor with their fowls.”94 Working in the elements, the

single shirt would have quickly become stained with sweat, dirt, and other natural materials.

Already coarse in texture and dull in color, the contrast between the shirt of the enslaved and the

shirt of the planter would be heightened. A lower quality fabric to begin with, as the garments of

the slaves deteriorated, the visual message inherent in their dress would have reinforced ideas

about the inferiority of enslaved individuals. Historian Anthony Parent puts it insightfully,

writing that providing slaves with their clothing was one of the planter’s “other ways of

extending control over the physical terms of enslaved existence.95 Planters had the autonomy to

determine their own wardrobes, but in severely limiting the clothing of their enslaved

populations, they sought to ensure that enslaved individuals did not have the same opportunity to

use dress to construct a body that reflected their identity or a sense of social respectability.96 It

was because of planters’ access to enslaved labor and their financial wealth as a result of the

slave economy that elite Virginians were able to sport and maintain this status symbol.

Ownership and use of fine linen in turn was viewed as a reflection of their morality in the

eighteenth century, in turn justifying their authority and status.

MOLINET & THE WHIP

Thinking next about two very different objects, at first glance, it seems as if the molinet

and the whip are only vaguely similar in form.97 Moreover, both rarely survive in the record.

Stir-sticks were often lost, damaged, or separated from their accompanying chocolate pot.98 32

These specific items, apart from contemporary descriptions of chocolate preparation, also rarely show up in the written record of diaries, letters, and probate inventories. Their existence and ownership is extrapolated from mentions of chocolate consumption and the writer’s economic status. Similarly, few whips have survived and few eighteenth-century whips are housed in museum collections today. In fact, the three whips in the collection of the NMAAHC came from the collection of a British abolitionist, having been intentionally collected to garner support for the abolitionist cause shortly after their creation. Given their typical composition from leather, hide, and wood, it may be that these materials simply do not survive as well when compared to metals and ceramics - especially in the very damp environments of the plantation South. Further, it might be that they were used until no longer functional or repairable at which point they were discarded. Though they were used to inflict pain and torture on enslaved bodies, they still were utilitarian objects on a Virginia plantation. Whips do not show up in probate inventories or wills; their presence in the written record comes from mentions of the act of punishment.

As another similarity between these two very different objects, both had immense performative power in communicating the owner’s authority. The molinet and the whip reflect the two seemingly disparate facets of elite identity and their associated actions. As the refined gentleman, the slave-owning planter socialized and entertained his guests, serving fine food and drink from beautiful vessels and platters in his Georgian home. Chocolate consumption, with its specialized set of accoutrements, was part of the material display of this rationality and moral superiority. A molinet had material value as an imported, high quality silver item, in addition to its symbolic power. The value and the power of the whip, on the other hand, came from what it symbolized, not from its inherent material value.99 33

One surviving chocolate mill hails from 1709-1710 and was made by London silversmith

William Gamble. This object features a turned wooden handle that joins with a tapered silver

tube. At the bottom of the tube are three blades. The blades feature the date, place, and standard

marks. This object, with its silver core and finely crafted wooden handle, would look very

elegant when inserted into the silver chocolate pot. The ornamentation is understated but still

pleasing to the eye and reflects an elegant sensibility. Middling examples (and the stir stick used

in the kitchen) would be made from wood and feature far less decorative ornamentation. Though

the chocolate mill had a necessary function (to keep the chocolate mixed), it was nevertheless a

highly specialized object. Further, part of its intentional function was that it showed off its

owners status. Like with other luxury objects, ornamentation provided no function other than a

display of taste and status. This relatively small object was part of the much larger set of goods,

spaces, and actions that worked together to communicate gentility.

In contrast, a late eighteenth century whip housed at the NMAAHC is very basic in form.

This whip is made from a long wooden handle and a single hide lash. Similar to another whip at

the NMAAHC, the end of the handle also has a thin hide loop so that it could be hung from a

hook, pointing towards the object’s focus on the utilitarian rather than the ornamental.

Comparing the wooden handle of the chocolate mill with the wooden handle of the whip underscores the lack of ornamentation on this object.This object was constructed from very basic, potentially local, materials, rather than from luxury material that had an inherent economic value. In terms of formal artistic qualities, there is little to analyze on a whip. Further, because few remain in the record and little is known about these objects’ makers, it can be much harder to apply a traditional material culture analysis. 34

As the master of the plantation, the planter was expected to rule with an iron fist.

Challenges to his authority needed to be dealt with swiftly and harshly. The whip, as one

example of an object of punishment, functioned both as a material reflection of this authority but

also assisted in the enactment of that authority. Like many status symbols, these dual meanings of the whip functioned in cyclical support of each other. Rarely would the planter have used the whip himself, but the overseers and drivers who were charged with enforcing his control were the planter’s dependents and therefore, also subject to his will.100 Ultimately, the planter

controlled the use of the whip against enslaved bodies and utilized it to quash insubordination,

thereby reasserting and reaffirming his absolute authority. Visually and symbolically, the whip

reflected both his status and access to that type of object (in the context of its use against

enslaved individuals), thereby reasserting the planter’s identity as the absolute authority on a

plantation. In contrast, the chocolate mill was a reflection of the planter’s gentility, which drew

upon his self-mastery and rationality.

Chocolate v. Chocolate

A comparison of a copper chocolate pot for preparing the beverage and one of the silver

pots for serving it draws attention to the important connection between access to labor and access

to goods in colonial Virginia. Designated under the category of the kitchen equipment, a copper

chocolate pot from the second half of the 18th century is an excellent material example to

represent the bigger process of chocolate preparation. These copper chocolate pots are

rudimentary in form and much less finely crafted than the silver pots used by Anglo-Atlantic

elites. The simple wooden handle is riveted to the copper body, resulting in a clunky and very

obvious joining. The handle sticks straight out (admittedly, for practical reasons) resulting in a

far less elegant profile. This pot has little ornamentation and the materials, copper and wood, 35 were selected for their utilitarian rather than aesthetic value. Copper was the material of choice for cooking in the eighteenth century and was considered a higher quality material than iron. As such, a copper chocolate pot would reflect the owner’s economic status and ability to use fine materials for cooking, even if it never left the kitchen. The finial pivots to allow a stir stick to be inserted, but has no ornamentation. While the overall form is a simplified, but similar shape to a coffee pot, the bottom is completely flat. Further, the mill shown with this pot is a basic wooden stick. Overall, there are no unnecessary elements in the design or construction of this pot.

A comparison of this mid-eighteenth century copper chocolate cooking pot to a mid- eighteenth century silver chocolate pot highlights the stark differences in the design and how these objects were supposed to function. Made by London silversmith John Payne between 1751 and 1752, this chocolate pot features a pear shaped body, a small triangular spout, and a wooden scroll handle. While this pot features molded drops as decoration and both a molded foot, and a molded stepped lid, overall the design and ornamentation is much more understated and reflects the more subdued aesthetics of the mid-eighteenth century. The acorn finial is removable for mollinet access. This pot belonged to the Meade family of Nansemond County and features the

Meade coat of arms. Much like the high-style ornamentation on the Baroque chocolate pots, the engraved coat of arms would have been an added layer of status communication and performance. Given its placement on the pot, the coat of arms would face the guests as the host poured the chocolate.101 The coat of arms not only was a clear display of ownership over a piece of silver and showed that the piece had been made for and purchased by the family, but also emulated British aristocratic traditions. Robert Carter included a mention in his diary of engraving silver with his coat of arms, indicating that it was not an uncommon practice. In July 36

of 1726, Carter recorded in his diary that he ordered several pieces of silver plate for his

daughter, adding “all the plate to have my coat of arms.”102

In the household of a Virginia planter, an enslaved cook would prepare the chocolate in the kitchen using the copper pots. Several late seventeenth and eighteenth century recipes have

survived. Most describe a several-step process of scraping the chocolate into water, milk, or a

combination thereof, boiling it till combined while stirring, adding “a convenient quantity of

sugar”, and then milling so that the mixture froths.103 Given this procedure, and to ensure that the

chocolate stayed frothy and mixed, it would need to be prepared very close to serving. Once the

enslaved cook had prepared the chocolate, it would be poured into the silver chocolate pot or into

chocolate cups (typically taller in profile than teacups) to be served to the household’s elite

guests. It was because of the planter's access to and exploitation of enslaved labor that the

chocolate could be served to guests at their leisure. More broadly, it was the access to enslaved

labor and the wealth provided by the plantation economy that allowed planters to serve finely

prepared meals made up of several dishes and host elegant social interactions.104 Exploitation of

enslaved labor provided the wealth for the purchasing of elite goods and supported use of these

goods. Self-mastery was necessary to justify the status and authority of the planter; that

unwavering authority over enslaved individuals was in turn deemed as necessary to manage the

plantation and produce wealth.

The Planter’s Formal Portrait vs. The Brutalized Enslaved Body

This wealth is also what allowed for the formal portraits of Virginia’s elites and their

families. Some even had multiple portraits taken throughout their lifetime. Through these

portraits, planters memorialized themselves and their images. The diaries, commonplace books,

and other written records contributed to this memorializing, but the portraits differed in that they 37

were visual and far more public. Byrd’s shorthand code reveals the private nature of his diary.

Virginia’s elite also owned portraits of their friends and notable acquaintances, displaying not

only how well connected they were within the broader Atlantic world, but also emulating the

British gentry tradition of portrait collecting (and therefore, demonstrating their place within the

broader British community of taste).

The 1724 portrait of William Byrd II, by Hans Hysing, reveals how he used portraits to

present and preserve a specific image of himself.105 His high quality dress, wig, and posture all communicate his confidence, authority, and status. This portrait, like most formal portraits, was done in oils, a formal and sophisticated medium. Further, Hysing was a London based portrait painter (in other words, a professional) who painted numerous other portraits of wealthy individuals. This portrait of Byrd is almost identical to a portrait of Sir Wilfrid Lawson, a friend of Byrd’s. The Lawson portrait was part of Byrd’s collection. Their outfits and posture are the same. The Byrd portrait differs from Lawson’s in that the background features a ship on the ocean rather than classical architecture. The outdoor background, much like the landscape in other portraits of eighteenth-century Virginians, points to Byrd’s status as a plantation owner.

The ship, in particular, draws attention to Byrd’s role as a tobacco planter and his place in the international tobacco economy. Rather than being hung as part of his larger collection at

Westover, Byrd gifted this portrait of himself to his close friend, Charles Boyle, Fourth Earl of

Orrery and is believed to have received a portrait of Orrery in return. This exchange had two functions for Byrd. First, it demonstrated that Byrd knew members of the British nobility well enough to exchange likenesses. In displaying this portrait and others, Byrd offered visual evidence of his notable place within the Atlantic world’s network of power and patronage.

Second, it ensured that Byrd’s image as a sophisticated, worldly and successful planter would be 38 seen by those outside of Virginia, thereby ensuring the preservation of such a flattering image of himself.

Planters had control over how their image was presented in their daily life and how they would be remembered through portraits and other likenesses. In commissioning portraits, Byrd was choosing to be depicted and had at least some control over how his image was memorialized. He had the autonomy (and the power) to choose to be depicted with items that communicated his status and the wealth from exploited labor to use these status items in his daily life. Byrd, Robert Carter, Landon Carter, and other wealthy plantation owners could choose to wear and be depicted wearing finely woven, bright white linens (reflecting their hygeiene and moral superiority), to entertain guests with chocolate served in imported silver vessels, to assemble vast libraries and portrait collections, and to create a record of themselves as rational, intellectual men through the writings and depictions they left behind. This status as genteel elites, and the wealth required for said status, gave these men an incredible amount of authority in colonial society.

They used this authority to exert a brutal physical mastery over enslaved individuals.

Through dress, medication, and diet, planters sought to control the physical and material state of the enslaved body. They pushed this control further when they utilized violent physical and material punishments against enslaved individuals. They forced enslaved men and women to wear chains, bits, and collars; they whipped, beat, and even dismembered enslaved individuals, leaving lasting scars as rememberances of these traumas.106 Just like the formal portraits communicated gentility, these punishments had immense visual power in communicating the mastery of the plantation owner. The planters used these violent acts with great intentionality and were well aware of the efficacy of physical punishments. The formal portraits of men like 39

William Byrd should not be viewed without an understanding of what allowed these portraits, and other goods of refinement, to exist in colonial Virginia – the cruel exploitation of and mastery over enslaved individuals.

Unlike the wealthy Virginians, few representations of eighteenth-century enslaved individuals in the colonial South have survived.107 Enslaved individuals also had far less control

over how they would be depicted and remembered outside of their immediate circles of friends

& family. The individuals who were enslaved on plantations like Corotoman, Westover, and

Sabine Hall are known through plantation records and the diaries of the men who enslaved them.

Far less is known about their inner thoughts and attitudes, in no significant part because of the

strict material conditions they were kept under by the plantation owners. When compared to the

men who enslaved and exploited them, the men and women who labored at Westover,

Corotoman, and Sabine Hall had little autonomy both over their bodies and how they would be

remembered.

Conclusion

Integrating the objects of punishment (mastery over enslaved individuals) and the objects

of gentility (self-mastery) reveals that together these categories of objects played an essential

role in strengthening and performing authority and elite identity in colonial Virginia. It has long been acknowledged that material goods were an essential piece of elite identity. However, many analyses overlook both the multi-faceted nature of elite identity and the role that non-luxury objects played in communicating and strengthening status and authority. Objects also played an essential role in planters’ mastery over their wives and other women and in the broader hierarchy of their interactions with dependents. Examination of the link between objects and mastery reveals a far more accurate and more nuanced understanding of elite identity and authority in 40 early America. In the plantation South, gentility and self-mastery could not exist with violent mastery and exploitation. When put in conversation with the cruel implements of slavery, the beautiful objects of refinement often tell a far from beautiful story.

1 Byrd used this phrase to refer to sexual pleasure. William Byrd, “Diary Entry for June 17, 1711,” The Secret Diary of William Byrd of Westover, 1709-1712 (Richmond: Dietz Press, 1941). 2 The fathers of men like William Byrd II and Robert ‘King’ Carter were the first to obtain significant land holdings and exploit enslaved labor in the pursuit of wealth and status. Social relations, however, were more fluid in the late seventeenth century as British citizens immigrated to Virginia and other colonies. 3 The Georgian house and plantation landscape also played a role in the communication of elite status. 4 For example, Byrd’s daughter Maria was Landon Carter’s second wife. William Byrd III’s (son of William Byrd II) first wife was the granddaughter of Robert ‘King’ Carter. This group of interconnected families is often referred to as the FFV or First Families of Virginia. 5 Scholars like Kathleen Brown and Anthony Parent, Jr. discuss this in their analyses of eighteenth-century Virginia. Kathleen M. Brown, Good Wives, Nasty Wenches, and Anxious Patriarchs: Gender, Race, and Power in Colonial Virginia (Chapel Hill: Omohundro Institute of Early American History and the University of North Carolina Press, 1996); Anthony S. Parent, Jr., Foul Means: The Formation of a Slave Society in Virginia, 1660-1740 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2012). 6 For more on early American material culture, see Richard L. Bushman, The Refinement of America: Persons, Houses, Cities (New York: Vintage Books, 1993); John Styles and Amanda Vickery, eds., Gender, Taste, and Material Culture in Britain and North America, 1700-1830 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006); Bernard L. Herman, Town House: Architecture and Material Life in the Early American City, 1780-1830 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2012); and Ann Smart Martin, American Material Culture: The Shape of the Field (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1997). 7 The work of James Deetz was very influential in pushing the field beyond its focus on luxury objects; James Deetz, In Small Things Forgotten: The Archaeology of Early American Life (New York: Anchor Press/Doubleday, 1977). For backcountry material culture, see Ann Smart Martin, Buying into the World of Goods: Early Consumers in Backcountry Virginia (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2010). 8 Zara Anishanlin, Portrait of a Woman in Silk: Hidden Histories of the British Atlantic World (New Haven:Yale University Press, 2016); Jennifer Van Horn, The Power of Objects in Eighteenth-Century British America (Chapel Hill: Omohundro Institute of Early American History and the University of North Carolina Press, 2017). 9 There also are a few images of objects presented in the digital exhibit that were not discussed in depth in this paper. These objects are all of the same or similar object types to the one that are analyzed in this paper. 10 Parent Foul Means, 212. 11 The full quote is “The character of a wise man, is not to be without passions, but to keep them, as he ought to keep his Wife, in due Subjection, else like her, they will make him do abundance of very foolish things.” Kevin Joel Berland, Jan Kirsten Gilliam, and Kenneth A. Lockridge, “330,” The Commonplace Book of William Byrd II of Westover (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2012) 157. 12 Historian Tristan Stubbs puts it concisely - “women, children, the poor, the young, and men without independent means were all believed to be incapable of rational thought and action.” Tristan Stubbs, Masters of Violence: The Plantation Overseers of Eighteenth-Century Virginia, South Carolina, and Georgia (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2018), 6. 13 Much of what is discussed in this paper through the lens of Virginia applies to the colonial South and Atlantic World of plantations more broadly. For the sake of clarity, however, I will often refer to it within the scope of Virginia. This is not to argue that Virginia was different from these other regions, but rather that Virginia was one lens through which to view the intersections of self-mastery and mastery over enslaved individuals. 14 Stubbs states that “following the cultural metaphor that linked plantations with personality, a slaveholder who had exerted sufficient control over dependents and resources to be able to continually make progress had mastered his own internal passions through the continued application of reason. Stubbs, Masters of Violence, 90. 15 For example, on October 19, 1709, Byrd wrote “I gave myself the liberty to talk very lewdly, for which God forgive me.” Byrd, Secret Diary, 1709-1712, 95. 41

16 Reflecting just how personal Byrd was in his diary, fundament was an eighteenth century term for the buttocks. While on June 26 and June 27, he refers to it as his fundament, on June 28, he refers to it as his bum. Byrd, Secret Diary, 1709-1712, 197. 17 Robert Carter, “Sunday October 18, 1724” Edmund Berkeley, Jr., “The Diary, Correspondence, and Papers of Robert ‘King’ Carter of Virginia, 1701-1732” (Scholars’ Lab, University of Virginia Library, Charlottesville, Virginia 22903), accessed April 5, 2020, https://christchurch1735.org/robert-king-carter-papers/. 18 Byrd, “Diary Entry for April 1, 1709,” The Secret Diary, 1709-1712, 16; “Diary Entry for April 15, 1709,” The Secret Diary, 1709-1712, 21. 19 Scholars believe that “danced his dance” refers to a type of calisthenics exercise. Byrd used this phrase throughout his life. Byrd’s evening walks about the plantation served the dual function of physical exercise and plantation surveillance. 20 Byrd, The Secret Diary, 1709-1712, 131; This was not the only time that Byrd danced his dance twice in one day. 21 Byrd, “#315, Byrd’s Commonplace Book, 155; The editors explain this rule in Footnote 1, stating that it most likely came from a Dr. Cheye, whose writings Byrd has in his library. William Byrd, “Diary Entry for May 31, 1740, Another Secret Diary of William Byrd of Westover, 1739-1741 (Richmond: Dietz Press, 1942), 71. 22 Byrd, “Diary Entry for May 31, 1740.” Another Secret Diary, 71. 23 In describing his sexual affairs, Byrd often used evocative language that shifted depending on his mood. The elegant gentleman, he gave his first wife, Lucy Parke Byrd, a flourish. When he hired London prostitutes, he “rogered” them in a display of virility, and later in his life, he noted that he “played the fool” with servants and enslaved women. This language and his requests for divine forgiveness reveal some of the shame that Byrd felt as a result of these encounters. Byrd’s sex life was both an expression of mastery over women (another facet of male identity in the era) and a boon to his pursuit of self-mastery. For a more thorough analysis of Byrd’s sexuality, see Richard Godbeer, “William Byrd’s Flourish: The Sexual Cosmos of a Southern Planter” in Merril D. Smith, Sex and Sexuality in Early America (New York: New York University Press, 1998). For more information on his relationship with his first wife (which he chronicled in great detail in his first diary), see Paula A. Treckel, “‘The Empire of My Heart’: The Marriage of William Byrd II and Lucy Parke Byrd,” The Virginia Magazine of History and Biography 105, no. 2 (1997): 125–56. 24 Much of elite culture allowed for controlled forms of indulgence. For elite men, gambling and horse racing was a socially acceptable form of competition and allowed them the chance to best one another. Byrd owned a billiards table and often recorded instances of besting other elite males he was hosting in games. For broader analysis of competition in elite male culture, see T.H. Breen, “Horses and Gentlemen: The Cultural Significance of Gambling among the Gentry of Virginia,” The William and Mary Quarterly 34, no. 2 (April 1977): 239–57. 25 Byrd, “Diary Entry for January 12, 1710,” The Secret Diary, 1709-1712,129. 26 Carter, “January 15, 16, 17, 1726,”, The Diary of Robert Carter. 27 Landon Carter and Jack P. Greene, “November 1762,” The Diary of Colonel Landon Carter of Sabine Hall, 1752- 1778, Virginia Historical Society Documents, v. 4-5 (Charlottesville: Published for the Virginia Historical Society [by] the University Press of Virginia, 1965), 241; “Probate of Henry Fitzhugh,” March 8, 1742, Probing the Past, http://chnm.gmu.edu/probateinventory/document.php?estateID=122&transcription=5-7. The chocolate pot was listed in the kitchen alongside a coffee pot and 1 copper tea kettle. The coffee and chocolate pot were ascribed the value of 4 pounds, while the copper tea kettle was deemed worth 15 shillings. Fitzhugh lived in Stafford County on the plantation Eagle’s Nest. He was educated in England at Oxford, married Lucy Carter (daughter of Robert ‘King’ Carter), served as a member of House of Burgesses, and like other planters inherited lands and wealth from his father. 28 Colonial Virginia’s Cooking Dynasty describes chocolate as “prohibitively expensive;” Katharine E. Harbury, Colonial Virginia’s Cooking Dynasty (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2004),123. 29 Chocolate pots made from less expensive material did exist in the eighteenth century. Further, middling families might have owned or could use coffee pot instead of the specialized chocolate pot. 30 For a description of eighteenth century chocolate preparation, see Mary Miley Theobald, “A Cup of Hot Chocolate, S’good for What Ails Ya,” in The Colonial Williamsburg Journal (Winter 2012), http://www.history.org/foundation/journal/winter12/chocolate.cfm. 31 Carter, “February 19, 1724, The Diary of Robert Carter. 32 A 1758 invoice book cites chocolate as costing 10 shillings for 1 pound, coffee cost 8 shilling per pound, and tea cost 37 shillings and sixpence for one pound. Quoted in Amanda E. Lange, “Sweet Concoctions: Ceramics for Chocolate Drinking in Early America,” American Ceramic Circle Journal XVII (2012.): 103. 33 These finials can be separate pieces, hinged, or pivoting to allow access for the molinet. 42

34 Note, it is possible to obtain the exact year for silver-made objects because they were typically date stamped at the bottom or in another inconspicuous location. The marks would include the maker’s mark, the Britannia mark assuring the quality of the silver (95.84% fine silver as opposed to the sterling standard, which was 92.5% fine silver), and in this case the lion’s head erased (which was the London mark for silver of the Britannia standard). Most Britannia standard is seen prior to 1735. 35 The Minneapolis Institute of Art has a 1703 straight-sided chocolate pot. This pot features similar cut-card and high-style Baroque ornamentation. 36 The wooden handle is confirmed as a replacement; While the provenance on these two chocolate pots indicates that they were used in England, the original chocolate pots that Byrd and Carter owned have been lost to the record. As one of the premier institutions in early American material culture, these pots serve as accurate examples of the types of pots that would have been used by wealthy Virginians. 37 Lange, “Sweet Concoctions,” 99. 38 Carter L. Hudgins notes that material objects placed an essential role in this unseen, but widely understood grammar of communications. Carter L. Hudgins, The King’s Realm: An Archaeological and Historical Study of Plantation Life at Robert Carter’s Corotoman (master’s thesis, Wake Forest University, December 1981), 30. 39 #298, Berland et. al, The Commonplace Book of William Byrd, 153. 40 Van Horn, The Power of Objects, 139. 41 Wayne Craven, “Virginia Portraits: Iconography, Style, and Social Context,” The Virginia Magazine of History and Biography 92, no. 2 (1984): 201–25; Carolyn L. White, American Artifacts of Personal Adornment, 1680-1820: A Guide to Identification and Interpretation (Lanham: Rowman Altamira, 2005). 42 Byrd, “Diary Entry for October 23, 1709,” The Secret Diary, 1709-1712, 96. 43 Carter, “July 5, 1724,” The Diary of Robert Carter. 44 Carter, “November 20, 1770,” The Diary of Landon Carter, 530. This was likely Richard Charlton, Williamsburg wigmaker and also owner of a coffeehouse in the colonial capital. 45 Parent, Foul Means, 211. 46 Scholars use proper to refer to left/right as it would appear from the portrait sitter, which is opposite from what the portrait viewer’s perspective of a painting. From the viewer’s perspective, Byrd’s left hand is on the right side of the painting. 47 It is believed that Byrd had over thirty portraits in his collection at the time of his death. For a more in-depth discussion of Byrd’s portrait collection, see David Meschutt, “William Byrd and his Portrait Collection,” The Journal of Early Southern Decorative Arts 14 (May 1988), 18-46. 48 White, American Artifacts of Personal Adornment, 16. 49 Craven, “Virginia Portraits,” 201. 50 Berland et al., Byrd’s Commonplace Book, 5; For example, in 1710, he entertained several guests including “Parson Robinson, who was charmed with my library; Byrd, “Diary Entry for September 4, 1710,” The Secret Diary, 1709-1712, 226. 51 In February 1709, Byrd read from The Odyssey almost every day. Byrd, The Secret Diary, 1709-1712 , 1-10. 52 Byrd, “Diary Entry February 19, 1709,” The Secret Diary, 1709-1712, 6. 53 Rhys Isaac, The Transformation of Virginia, 1740-1790 (Chapel Hill: Omohundro Institute of Early American History and the University of North Carolina Press, 1982) quoted in Stubbs, Masters of Violence, 48. 54 Stubbs, Master’s of Violence, 105. 55 See Philip D. Morgan, Slave Counterpoint: Black Culture in the Eighteenth-Century Chesapeake and Lowcountry (Chapel Hill: Omohundro Institute of Early American History and the University of North Carolina Press, 1998); Trevor Burnard, Mastery, Tyranny, and Desire: Thomas Thistlewood and His Slaves in the Anglo-Jamaican World (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2004); Tristan Stubbs, Masters of Violence: The Plantation Overseers of Eighteenth-Century Virginia, South Carolina, and Georgia (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2018). 56 Most museum exhibits do acknowledge the role that slavery and slave ownership played in the gentry’s wealth; however, like the scholarship, exhibits tend not to integrate the artifacts of punishment into the conversation on early American material culture. 57 Carter, “July 12, 1723” and “August 2, 1723,” The Diary of Robert Carter. 58 Carter, “June 22, 1770,” The Diary of Landon Carter, 425. 59 Material objects also offered enslaved individuals an opportunity for resistance. Breaking tools is a well-known example. Stephanie Camp discusses the many forms of passive resistance. Stephanie M. H. Camp, Closer to Freedom: Enslaved Women and Everyday Resistance in the Plantation South (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2004). 43

60 Brown, Good Wives, Nasty Wenches, and Anxious Patriarchs, 319. 61 Godbeer, “William Byrd’s Flourish,” 147. Though this article is primarily focused on Byrd’s sexuality, Godbeer also writes about the planter’s need for control in colonial Virginia, with a particular eye towards the role of sex in eighteenth century race and class relations. 62 These ideas would change with the sentiments of the American Revolution and shift towards the paternalism of the nineteenth century. 63 “An Act Concerning Servants and Slaves (1705),” 1705, https://www.encyclopediavirginia.org/_an_act_concerning_servants_and_slaves_1705. These laws are also often referred to as the Virginia Slave Codes. They also differentiated the treatment of Christian servants and non- Christian slaves, strengthening the racial and economic hierarchies of the slave economy and legally cementing slavery as a race-based institution. 64 Statute XXXIV, “And if any slave resist his master, or owner, or other person, by his or her order, correcting such slave, and shall happen to be killed in such correction, it shall not be accounted felony; but the master, owner, and every such other person so giving correction, shall be free and acquit of all punishment and accusation for the same, as if such incident had never happened:”, accessed via “An Act Concerning Servants and Slaves (1705),” 1705, https://www.encyclopediavirginia.org/_an_act_concerning_servants_and_slaves_1705 65 See Statute XXXVIII, “Provided always, and it is further enacted, That for every slave killed, in pursuance of this act, or put to death by law, the master or owner of such slave shall be paid by the public:” Accessed via “An Act Concerning Servants and Slaves (1705),” 1705, https://www.encyclopediavirginia.org/_an_act_concerning_servants_and_slaves_1705 66 See Statute VII; https://www.encyclopediavirginia.org/_an_act_concerning_servants_and_slaves_1705 67 Note, it most likely would have been an overseer, plantation manager, or driver actually enacting the punishment, but Byrd and others write about these events in the first person. 68 Byrd, “ Diary Entry for June 10, 1709,” The Secret Diary, 1709-1712, 46. 69 Byrd, “Diary Entry for September 3, 1709,” The Secret Diary, 1709-1712, 79. 70 Carter, “November 26, 1722,” “June 19, 1725,” The Diary of Robert Carter. It is unclear if this was the same Billy or two different men. 71 Rhys Isaac refers to these challenges to Carter’s authority as a sort of mini rebellion, drawing parallels between Carter’s anxieties about the state of his plantations to anxieties about the broader political situation in late eighteenth century Virginia. Rhys Isaac, Landon Carter’s Uneasy Kingdom: Revolution and Rebellion on a Virginia Plantation (Oxford, UK ; New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 2004). 72 Carter, “March 15, 1757,” The Diary of Landon Carter of Sabine Hall), 149. 73 Carter, “September 18, 1770,” “ November 25, 1770,” The Diary of Landon Carter, 492, 527. 74 Note, the interpretation of these leg shackles in the Colonial Williamsburg digital collection does not touch upon or even warrant a guess about where and under what conditions they might have been used. Clearly, even at a leading institution like Colonial Williamsburg, scholars and curators have been hesitant to integrate the material culture of plantation authority into the larger story of Virginia. This pair of shackles was featured as the “primary source of the month” and the accompanying article does focus on slavery. (https://www.history.org/History/teaching/enewsletter/volume7/feb09/primsource.cfm) NMAAHC and the Virginia Museum of History and Culture both have examples of iron wrist shackles in their collection, which both institutions identify as being used during the slave trade. 75 Byrd, “Diary Entry for December 3, 1709;” “Diary Entry for December 10, 1709;” “ Diary Entry for November 30, 1709;” “Diary Entry for December 1 1709;” The Secret Diary, 1709-1712, 113, 117, 112. 76 The brackets are in the 1940 transcription. Byrd, “ Diary Entry for January 22, 1711”; “Diary Entry for January 23, 1711;” The Secret Diary, 1709-1712, 290-291. 77 Carter, “September 12, 1722,” and “September 14, 1722,” The Diary of Robert Carter; The editor notes that the order was in the order book of the Lancaster County Court, but the quote was originally from “An Act Concerning Servants and Slaves.” https://www.encyclopediavirginia.org/_an_act_concerning_servants_and_slaves_1705 78 Byrd, “December 26, 1740,” Another Secret Diary, 123. 79 Beyond punishment, the physical control over enslaved bodies also extended to medicating. Many planters kept detailed records of what they medicated slaves with. 80 Carter, “Letter from Robert Carter to Robert Jones, October 10 and 14, 1727”, The Diary, Correspondence, and Papers of Robert ‘King’Carter, 1701-1732, https://christchurch1735.org/robert-king-carter- papers/html/C27j10a.html. 81 Carter, The Diary of Landon Carter, 372. 44

82 Michael Foucault addresses the efficacy of the ‘spectacle of punishment’ in the early chapters of Discipline and Punish. Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison (New York: Vintage Books, 1995). 83 Carter, “March 22, 1770,” The Diary of Landon Carter,371. 84 Byrd, “February 22, 1709,” The Secret Diary, 1709-1712, 7; Carter, “March 22, 1770,” The Diary of Landon Carter, 371. 85 In a 1795 letter to John Ewing Colhoun, John C. Grinninger noted that he had caught a runaway slave and “put Iron on his neck - as that may shame him.” Quoted in Master’s of Violence, hJo n C. Grinninger to John Ewing Colhoun, 22 August 1795, John Ewing Colhoun Papers, SCL, USC. 86 An example if the Virginia Museum of History & Culture features a metal plate with a name engraved on it. Virginia Museum of History & Culture (1985.3.1-3). http://museumcatalog.virginiahistory.org/final/Portal/Default.aspx?component=AADB&record=878b2da3f -499 - 4b2d-bbb0-2040c95e9aa3 87 There are several spelling variations of osnaburg that appear in the record. Even Landon Carter in his diary entries refers to it as oznaburg, oznabrug, and oznabrigg. In general, this term refers to a coarse, undyed linen imported from Germany, though nineteenth century mentions can also refer to a coarsely woven, cotton fabric. 88 Carter, “July 30 1723, The Diary of Robert Carter. 89 This stemmed in part from British Atlantic identity being defined in opposition to that of Native Americans and enslaved Africans. Both Foul Bodies and The Power of Objects address this in their discussions of the material cultures of early America. 90 Brown, Foul Bodies, 34. 91 For example, a 1704 runaway notice describes the enslaved man as wearing brown osnaburg linen. Quoted in Florence M. Montgomery, Textiles in America, 1650-1870: A Dictionary Based on Original Documents, Prints and Paintings, Commercial Records, American Merchant’s Papers, Shopkeepers’ Advertisements, and Pattern Books with Original Swatches of Cloth (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2007), 313. 92 Inventories and diaries from the period also often mention “negro shoes,” pointing to the true head to toe differences in apparel between the plantation owner and enslaved individuals on the plantation. For example, Landon. Carter Diary wrote in his diary on September 11, 1764 “Gave Sam, the Estate’s coachman, 3/9 to pay his ferryages in carrying up the above 70 pair of shoes for the Estate’s negroes.”, pg.281. While the shoes of an enslaved individual would have been plain, clunky leather shoes that did not feature buckles, the shoes worn by a planter would have featured decorative buckles (Landon Carter mentions in his diary entry from XX that his son’s shoes were adorned with silver buckles),. For a more in depth discussion of the clothing worn by enslaved individuals s ee, Linda Baumgarten, “‘Clothes for the People’: Slave Clothing in Early Virginia,” Journal of Early Southern Decorative Arts 15 (November, 1988). 93 Higher thread counts make it much more labor intensive to weave. 94 Carter, “September 8, 1770,” The Diary of Landon Carter, 484. 95 Parent Foul Means, 228. 96 In Closer to Freedom, Stephanie Camp discusses the ways that enslaved individuals, particularly women, made their plain dress their own and expressed themselves via headscarfs, buttons, ribbons, and more. Ann Smart Martin, in Buying into the World of Goods, also discusses enslaved women purchasing ribbons and more in the backcountry. 97 Molinets are also called chocolate mills, stir-sticks, and mollinolos. These were used to froth the chocolate and other ingredients to keep it mixed and to make it pleasantly foamy. 98 There is an Irish chocolate pot that has survived with its original molinet that was sold through S.J. Shrubsole, Corp several years ago. The pot and molinet resemble the Wisdom pot and the molinet in the Colonial Williamsburg collection. 99 Obviously, both objects also had a functional value. 100 The lack of ornamentation on these objects may also be a result of the status of those most often using them. As mentioned, even free white overseers were considered to be a type of dependent because of their economic reliance on planters and other elites. The lack of ornamentation in the objects of the overseer’s daily lives reinforced to them and to others their lack of status. The power of the whip was in its embodiment of the planter’s absolute and cruel authority over the dependents on a plantation. 101 Note, it would have been the hostess would have poured the chocolate but in the world view of the plantation as a mini-kingdom, everything would have reflected back onto the plantation master. 102 Carter, “July 14, 1726,” The Diary of Robert Carter. 103 John Worldige describing the preparation of chocolate in 1675. A 1769 recipe described a very similar process to Worlidge. Worlidge quote and later recipe information can be found in Amanda Lange, “Chocolate Preparation and 45

Serving Vessels in Early North America,” in Louis E. Grivetti and Howard-Yana Shapiro, Chocolate: History, Culture, and Heritage (New York: Wiley, 2009). 104 Kelley Deetz Fanto explores the essential (and oft forgotten) role that enslaved cooks played in the development of Southern hospitality in Bound to the Fire. Kelley Fanto Deetz, Bound to the Fire: How Virginia’s Enslaved Cooks Helped Invent American Cuisine (Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 2017). 105 In this portrait, Byrd wears a blue velvet jacket with gold detailing. His shirt is made from high-quality linen and the translucent finely woven linen can be seen in the neck ruffle; His wig is shorter than in his earlier potrait. Overall, his dress and bearing convey his confidence, status, authority. 106 Though not discussed within the scope of this paper, sex also played a role in the mastery and dominion over enslaved women. However, despite the harsh regimes they lived under, enslaved men and women found ways to back their control and agency of their bodies. Stephanie Camp, for example, talks about the role of dress, dance, and socializing in the chapter “The Intoxication of Pleasurable Amusement: Secret Parties and the Politics of the Body,” in Closer to Freedom. In this chapter, she seeks to “demonstrate how enslaved people claimed, animated, politicized, personalized, and enjoyed their bodies” despite the fact that many considered their bodies to be no more than biddable property, 62. 107 Those that do survive include the Benjamin Latrobe watercolor, Overseer Doing His Duty (from roughly 1798 and housed in the Maryland Historical Society’s collection) The Old Plantation (1790-1800), and Virginia luxuries (1825). The latter two are both in the collection of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation. Image Appendix 46

William Lukin, Chocolate Pot, Silver (Britannia), wood, 1701-1702, Collection of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, 2003-6. Image Courtesy of the Colonial Wil- liamsburg Foundation. 47

William Charnelhouse, Chocolate Pot, Silver, 1703, Collection of the Minneapolis Institute of Art, 61.55.5a,b. Image Courtesy of the Minneapolis Institute of Art 48

John Wisdom, Chocolate Pot, Silver (Britannia), 1708-1709, Collection of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, 1954-577. Image Courtesy of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation. 49

Shirt, linen tabby, 1775-1790, remodeled 1810-1820, Collection of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, 1974 -268. Image Courtesy of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation. 50

Artist Unknown, Robert King Carter, Oil on canvas, ca. 1720, Collection of the National Portrait Gallery, NPG 68.18. Image available under Creative Commons license. 51

Photographic Print, Painting of Landon Carter (1710-1778), Collection of the Virginia Museum of History and Culture, 2208.1.24. Image Courtesy of the Virginia Museum of History and Culture. Th e original is attributed to Charles Bridges and believed to hang at Sabine Hall. 52

Studio of Sir Godrey Kneller, Portrait of William Byrd II, Oil on canvas, 1700-1704, Collection of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, 1956-561, A&B. Image courtesy of Colonial Williamsburg Foundation. 53

Hans Hysing, Portrait of Sir Wilfrid Lawson (1696-1739), Oil on canvas, 1722-1726, Collection of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, 1966-210, A&B. Image Courtesy of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation. 54

Scanned Image of William Byrd’s Shorthand Journal. Th is image appears in the 1942 published edition of Byrd’s diary from 1739-1742. 55

Benjamin Henry Latrobe, An Overseer Doing his Duty, Watercolor, pen, and ink, ca. 1798, Collection of the Maryland Historical Society. Image Courtesy of Slavery Images: A Visual Record of the African Slave Trade and Slave Life in the Early African Diaspora. 56

Slave Whip Owned by British abolitionist Charles James Fox, Leather and hide, late 18th century, Collection of the National Museum of Afri- can American History and Culture, 2010.21.1.2. Image Courtesy of the National Museum of African American History and Culture.

Slave Whip Owned by British abolitionist Charles James Fox, Hide and wood, late 18th century, Collection of the National Museum of African American History and Culture, 2010.21.1.1. Image Courtesy of the National Museum of African American History and Culture. 57

Statute XXXIV of the Virginia Slave Codes, included in William Waller Hening, ed., Th e Statutes at Large; Being a Collection of All the Laws of Virginia from the First Session of the Legislature, in the Year 1619, (Philadelphia: R. & W. & G. Bartow, 1823). 58

Leg Shackles, Iron, steel, and copper, 1750-1820, Collection of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, 2007-57. Image Courtesy of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation. 59

Shackles, Wrought iron, cast iron, before 1860, Collection of the National Museum of African American History and Culture, 2011.51.3. Image courtesy of the National Museum of African American History and Culture.

Slave wrist shackles, Iron, 17th-18th centuries, Collection of the Virginia Museum of History and Culture, 1997.89. Image courtesy of the Virginia Museum of History and Culture. 60

Iron Collar and Key, Wrought Iron, 18th- mid 19th centuries, Collection of the National Museum of African American History and Culture, 2011.155.285abc. Image Courtesy of the National Museum of African American History and Culture. 61

Metal Branding Irons with Owners Initials, Collection of Wilberforce Museum, Hull, England. Photograph comes from Isabelle Aguet, A Pictorial History of the Slave Trade (Geneva: Editions Minerva, 1971), plate 33, p. 45. Image courtesy of Slavery Images: A Visual Record of the African Slave Trade and Slave Life in the Early African Diaspora. 62

Apron, linen, plain-woven, 1780-1800, Collection of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, 2004-17. Image Courtesy of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

Close-up of Grain Sack, linen, 1750-1800, Collection of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, 1955-449. Image Courtesy of Colonial Williamsburg. 63

Slave Whip Owned by British abolitionist Charles James Fox, hide and wood, late 18th century, Collection of the National Museum of African American History and Culture, 2010.21.1.3. Image Courtesy of the National Museum of African American History and Culture.

William Gamble, Chocolate Mill or Molinet, Silver (Britannia), wood, 1709-1710, Collection of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, 2003-5. Image Courtesy of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation. 64

Chocolate pot, copper, wood, 1750-1775, Chocolate pot, copper, wood, 1760-1800, Collection of Colonial Williamsburg Collection of Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, 1979-10. Image courtesy of Foundation, 1979-11. Image courtesy of Colonial Williamsburg Foundation Colonial Williamsburg Foundation

John Payne, Chocolate Pot, Silver (sterling), wood, 1751-1752, Collection of the Co- lonial Williamsburg Foundation, 1993-169, A-C. Image Courtesy of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation. 65

Hans Hysing, William Byrd II (1674-1744), Oil on canvas, 1724, Collection of the Virginia Museum of History and Culture, 1973.6. Image Courtesy of the Virginia- Museum of History and Culture. 66

Mastery & Material Culture in Colonial Virginia Bibliography

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Breen, T.H. “Horses and Gentlemen: The Cultural Significance of Gambling among the Gentry of Virginia.” The William and Mary Quarterly 34, no. 2 (April 1977): 239–57.

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Burnard, Trevor. Mastery, Tyranny, and Desire: Thomas Thistlewood and His Slaves in the Anglo-Jamaican World. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2004.

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