LETTER XXXIV.
Having, from time to time, detailed to you, in desultory remark, the whole chain of circumstances passing under my eye, perhaps, you will not deem it premature, should I now offer you a few general observations concerning the island of Barbadoes. After a residence of many weeks it is probable that my remarks may possess more of correctness than any I might have given you immediately on my arrival. I feel it likely also, that you may find them rather more interesting after the irregular notes which have preceded them. I purpose therefore taking up my pen, at each moment of leisure, until I shall have copied the few memoranda which I have collected on the general subject of Barbadoes; and shall send them to you, in a full packet, by some early occasion.
From the situation of the West India Islands in the Atlantic ocean, extending in form of a semicircle, nearly from the coast of Florida to the river Oronoko, it might seem that, at some remote period, they had been detached from the great continent of America, either by the gradual and progressive power of the ocean, or by some great and sudden convulsion of nature. But from their being of very irregular and mountainous surface, while the land of the proximate shore is peculiarly low and flat, to a distance of many miles from the coast, it is probable that the islands and the main land had a different origin. The craggy shores, and rugged broken figure of the islands bespeak a sudden formation; while the smooth and muddy surface of the opposite coast indicates a less disturbed and slower beginning. Probably the latter has been produced from the gradual deposit of a feculent ocean—the former from volcanic eruptions.
Barbadoes is the most windward of the West India Islands; and is in that division of them known by the appellation of Charibbee Islands; a name they have obtained from one of the nations of Indians, who formerly inhabited them.
It is about twenty-one miles in length, by fourteen in breadth; lying in latitude 13° North, longitude 59° West. The English have occupied it nearly two centuries, having taken possession of it in the reign of James I. At the time of being settled by our countrymen, it was covered with wood, and had no marks of having been, before, occupied by man; but it now appears under a very different aspect, the destructive axe having converted its deep and heavy forests into even characteristic nakedness.
West Indians regard it as of low and level surface: but this can be only comparatively speaking, in reference to the neighbouring islands, whose bold summits pierce the clouds; for Barbadoes has all the pleasant variety afforded by hills and broken land, and, in some parts, is even mountainous, though less so than Grenada, St. Vincent, or St. Lucie.
It is considered as an old island, and, from having been long in cultivation, is said to be much exhausted, and wearing to decay. Those concerned in the culture of more recent, and now more prolific colonies, seem to compassionate Barbadoes as the venerable and decrepit parent of the race; while its inhabitants pride themselves upon its antiquity, and, like the feudal lords of still more ancient states, assume a consequence, I might almost say claim hereditary rank and privilege from priority of establishment. Some of the creoles of the island commit the excess of attaching to it a degree of importance beyond even the mother-country. “What would poor Old England do,” say they, “were Barbadoes to forsake her?” This sense of distinction is strongly manifested also in the sentiment conveyed by the vulgar expression so common in the island—“neither Charib, nor creole, but true Barbadian,” and which is participated even by the slaves, who proudly arrogate a superiority above the negroes of the other islands! Ask one of them if he was imported, or if he be a creole, and he immediately replies, “Me neder Chrab, nor creole, Massa! me troo Barbadian born.”
Perhaps the late decline of this island may be less the effect of exhaustion of the soil, than of the extensive emigration, and the diversion of commerce consequent on the cultivation of new islands and colonies. In the early period of its culture Barbadoes yielded a produce, and gave rise to an extent of commerce, not known in any other island, and its population increased to a degree, perhaps unprecedented in any part of the globe. Within the first fifty years the trade of the island had become sufficient to employ four hundred sail of shipping; and the number of inhabitants amounted to no less than one hundred and fifty thousand, being upwards of five hundred to every square mile.
To enable the land to continue the bountiful produce it now afforded, required much labour, and a great and expensive supply of manure; therefore as new colonies were settled, and new land brought into cultivation, which was capable of yielding equal returns with less labour, and less of artificial supply, it became an object to individuals to emigrate from the neighbouring island of Barbadoes, and engage in the culture of the more recent, and less exhausted settlements; and, thus, with the population, the commerce, which before had been confined to the parent island, was necessarily diverted into new and various channels.
At this day the Dutch colonies of Guiana, and the captured island of Martinique are a continual drain upon the population of Barbadoes. But notwithstanding its decline from what it once was, it is still the most populous, and one of the most important of our West India possessions. From situation, and from its fine bay for shipping, even independent of its produce, it must ever be valuable to us; and may be considered as the key of the West Indies.
If in the richness of its crops Barbadoes now yields to other settlements; if its population and commerce have decreased; if its thick woods have fallen before the ruthless axe; and if its mountains are less aspiring than the towering summits of some of the adjacent islands; still its trade and produce continue to be important; its population great; and the picturesque scenery of its surface, perhaps, unrivalled. Nor are these its only advantages; for, in consequence of being more cleared, and more generally cultivated, than the other islands, its temperature is more equable, and its air more salubrious. Damp woods do not interrupt, nor stagnant morasses empoison the breeze. Every part is exposed to the influence of the trade-wind; by the coolness and salubrity of which, this is rendered the most healthful of the islands; insomuch that it is common, in sickness, to make a voyage from the neighbouring colonies to Barbadoes, as the Montpelier of the West Indies. Being situated to windward of the other settlements it receives the steady breeze, brought to it, in all its purity, from a wide extent of ocean, unimpregnated by the septical exhalations of stagnant waters, or marshy soils. Its temperature has been far less inconvenient than we expected: we have felt but little oppression from heat; and have continued our habits of exercise without interruption. In the harbour, and placed in the shade, the thermometer has seldom been higher than 84, and at no time has exceeded 86 degrees.
Yet blessed as the island is in its exemption from excessive heat, from noxious miasmata, and from great and general sickness, it has its peculiar ills; being visited with an endemial affliction, so much its own as to have obtained the appellation of the Barbadoes disease. It appears in form of the elephantiasis, or what is here termed the “glandular disease,” and is a most unsightly and distressful malady.
Bridge-town is the capital of the island, and is situated on the S. W. bank of Carlisle Bay, which is one of the finest harbours, for shipping, in the West Indies; but is not considered to be secure during the hurricane season. It derives its name from the circumstance of a royal grant of the island having formerly been made to the Earl of Carlisle. The other towns are Speights-town, Austin-town, and Hole-town, all of which are much inferior to Bridge-town.
Both the scenery and the population of the island are more indebted to the number and variety of mansions, cottages, and huts, dispersed over its surface, than to its towns; which, as is too commonly the case in all countries, are built with less regard to general appearance, and the health of the inhabitants, than to the convenience of trade, and the profit of individuals.
On all quarters of the island are seen windmills, storehouses, and other buildings for sugar, coffee, and cotton; houses of planters, the smaller dwellings of cottagers, and the huts of negroes; all of which improve the scenery, while they convey the idea of extensive population, and delight the mind with images of rural enjoyment, and of generally diffused comfort and tranquillity. The various buildings, together with the protecting shades about them—the luxuriant vegetation—the constant verdure of the fields—the evergreen foliage of the trees—the broken irregular hills, lofty mountains, and cultivated plains—all surrounded with extensive views of shipping, and the open sea, create an effect more diversified and interesting than is often to be met with, and contribute to render Barbadoes a most pleasant and picturesque island.
I have before mentioned to you the general appearance of its soil: near Bridge-town it is of rich black earth, mostly spread on a base of calcareous rock, formed of madripores, and other marine concretions: in some districts it is of a red earth, of greater depth, but less rich: in others the soil is of a light whitish earth, broken into a grey-looking mould, or hardened into lumps resembling chalk; but actually consisting of indurated argille, bleached by exposure to the weather.
From this variety in the land, together with that which attaches to situation, as being flat, or mountainous, protected, or exposed, it will necessarily happen, that the produce will differ in different parts of the island: and as the whole has been long under cultivation, it is manifest that if a due supply of manure cannot be procured, a degree of exhaustion, bearing a certain ratio to the deficiency, must result.
It is established, from the mode of agriculture adopted in some counties of England, that, by an adequate supply of manure, estates may be kept in a constant round of cultivation, yielding as prolific crops as upon their earliest tillage; and this is found to be no less certain, than that if the land be subjected to continued culture, without such supply, it will be so exhausted, in the course of a few years, as not to give sufficient produce to compensate the labour and expense.
The same facts equally apply to Barbadoes, where, if the artificial supply be not commensurate with the harvest removed from the land, a gradual diminution of the crops will succeed; or, in order to have these in their usual abundance, the acres in cultivation must be reduced to such a number as the island shall be capable of furnishing with an adequate quantity of manure; and we accordingly find that herds of small steers are kept upon the plantations, for the purpose of supplying this indispensable addition to the soil. These are employed instead of horses in the heavy labour of the estate, and we often see from twelve to twenty-four of them yoked in a waggon, drawing a single hogshead of sugar, or some other load, such as in London would be conveyed with facility by one horse in a cart.
At night the cattle are penned upon a bed of trash, collected from the refuse of the canes, and other waste materials of the estate; by treading upon which, and mixing it with their own dung, they trample the whole into an useful compost for the fields.
It necessarily follows from such numbers of cattle being required, for the purpose of manuring the land, that a greater supply of beef and veal is raised for the markets, and that fresh provisions are more plentiful than in most of the other colonies. Of the custom of buying the veal in live quarters for the pot I have already spoken; and I may now remark that the beef is commonly killed so very young as to form neither beef nor veal, but something of appearance and flavour between the two.
The seasons here are not divided into winter and summer, but into wet and dry: yet are they, by no means, what many, from these terms, would believe, who might imagine that half the year is drowned with incessant rain, and the other half parched with constant drought. Such a construction of the terms wet season, and dry season, though not unfrequent, is far from correct, and leads to a very inaccurate idea of the climate; for, notwithstanding it has been the dry season, during the whole time we have been at Barbadoes, we have scarcely had two successive days without refreshing rain; although the showers are not so heavy at this period as at that of their greater frequency, termed the wet season, when the torrents which fall might convey the idea of a sudden rupture of the clouds, letting forth their waters in streams to the earth.
The quick evaporation which succeeds to rain in this climate creates a most agreeable and refreshing coolness. The extreme ardor of the sun’s rays is also counteracted by the ever-grateful breeze, which sets in from the sea about eight or nine o’clock in the morning, and continues throughout the day, ceasing only as the sun forsakes us at evening; when we are again defended from oppressive languor by a breeze springing up from the land. This sets in as that from the sea subsides, and diverging, as it were from a central point, is felt on all quarters of the island.
The day is nearly of equal length throughout the whole circle of the year. We have none of the short dark days of an English winter, nor of the still shorter light nights of a Scottish summer. Nights of one or two hours, and days of six or seven, are here equally unknown. It is light about six o’clock in the morning, and dark about seven at night. Evening is scarcely observed. The sun traversing his vertical course sinks at once from the horizon, and, refusing his oblique beams to protract or soften the decline of day, robs us of the twilight hour, and suddenly throws around all the obscurity of night.
This uniformity of the diurnal round scarcely exceeds that of the general temperature of the climate, which brings us one perpetual summer. The fields and the trees are always green. Nature ever smiles. Uninterrupted by the torpor of winter, she is neither chilled with frost, nor buried in snow. But, for these advantages we forego the sprightly delight, and genial comfort of a summer’s evening, the all-animating pleasures of a returning spring, and the soft joys of the twilight hours. If I had time for such discussions, I might enter into a long digression upon the comparative excellence of the climate we have left, and that we now inhabit: yet should I yield the palm to my native island; for of all the charms of climate in other countries, however great or durable, I know none that can stand in competition with the balmy softness of England’s spring.
The uniform returns of day and night in this climate induce a regularity of habit in the hours of rising, and going to rest. It is common to leave the pillow at six in the morning, and few persons remain out of bed after eleven at night. The coolest and most pleasant part of the day is from six to about half past seven o’clock in the morning: about eight a degree of closeness is often experienced, arising from the decline of the land-breeze, before that from the sea has become sufficiently strong to diffuse its influence. A similar period, likewise, occurs at evening, between the abatement of the sea breeze and the setting in of the breeze from the land. Some days the closeness of these hours is so slight, as to be scarcely perceptible, but commonly they are by far the most oppressive of the twenty-four.
Respecting the mode of living it may be remarked that in all countries said to be civilized, and among all people calling themselves refined, too much of time and attention is devoted to the business of eating and drinking. Perhaps the majority of diseases in social life may be traced to this source. Were it possible to convey, in a single sentence, the frightful train of ills, the melancholy interruptions of health, and the immense consumption of time, thus produced, men would be shocked to read it! They would be terrified to behold the magnitude of an abuse, to which, unheeding, they had so long been devoted. This remark applies but too correctly to the island from whence I am addressing you, and where, from the state of indolence induced by tropical heat, the ingesta taken to excess may be expected in a peculiar degree to oppress the human frame.
The people of Barbadoes are much addicted to the pleasures of the table. The breakfast usually consists of tea and coffee, or chocolate, with eggs, ham, tongue, or other cold meat. Bread is seldom used, but substitutes are found in roasted yams or eddoes, both of which a good deal resemble roasted potatoes. They are taken hot, and eaten with butter, which is sometimes made in the country, but more frequently barrelled and brought from Ireland; that prepared in the island being of cream-like softness, and not always of good flavour. In the course of the forenoon are used fruits, or sandwiches, with free libations of punch and sangaree: immediately preceding dinner, which is commonly at an early hour, are taken punch or mandram. The dinner, for the most part, is profuse, and many hours are passed at table in full and busy feasting.
After a more than plentiful consumption of food, a free indulgence in fruit, and a bounteous supply of wine and other good liquors, the appetite and thirst are further provoked by a dish of sprats, or other broiled fish, and a large bowl of milk-punch. Tea and coffee are next served; and lastly comes the supper, which forms no trifling meal. After this the bottle, the glass, and the punch-bowl experience no rest, until bed-time.
From the nature of the climate we expected to have found the inhabitants men of meager person, half dissolved in perspiration, and exhausted almost to shadows: nor, indeed, are such figures rare, but they are to be found, mostly, among the clerks, the book-keepers, and those orders of white people below the managers who are employed in active and busy occupation, and have but little time to devote to indolence and the luxuries of the table.
We observe that condiments are used very generally, and with great freedom. Acting as stimulants they appear to have the effect of causing the relaxed and enfeebled stomach to digest more than it would, otherwise, require—more, indeed, than it would, otherwise, take. The various species of red pepper, known in England under the common term Cayenne, are employed in quantities that would seem incredible to people of colder climates.
A most heterogeneous mixture of food is often consumed; and with this compound of solids, are used wine, punch, porter, cyder, noyeau, and other good liquors in free libation; yet are there specimens of health and vigour, amidst all these indulgences, which might seem to invalidate the doctrines of the advocates of abstemiousness.
In the order of the feast plenty more prevails than elegance. The loaded board groans, nay almost sinks beneath the weight of hospitality. That delicacy of arrangement now studied in England, under the term economy of the table, is here deemed a less perfection than a substantial plenty. Liberality is more esteemed than neatness in the supply; and solids are, sometimes, heaped upon the table in a crowded abundance that might make a London fine lady faint.
The repast not unfrequently consists of different kinds of fish—a variety of soups—a young kid—a whole lamb, or half a sheep—several dishes of beef, or mutton—a turkey—a large ham—Guinea fowls—and a pigeon pie; with various kinds of puddings; a profusion of vegetables; and multitudes of sweets. I was lately one of a small party, where, precisely, this dinner was served, and where the half of a sheep, kicking its legs almost in the face of the master of the house, adorned the bottom of the table—forming the most unseemly dish I ever beheld.
The generous board is often supplied wholly from the produce of the estate, and on the occasion of giving an entertainment it is not unusual to kill an ox, a sheep, or, literally, the fatted calf: hence it sometimes occurs that several dishes of the same kind of food, under different forms, make up the principal part of the dinner.
The liquors most in use are Madeira and claret wines, punch, sangaree, porter, and cyder. Punch and sangaree are commonly used as the diluents of the morning. The latter forms a most delightful drink. A glass of it, taken when parching with thirst, from heat and fatigue, may be ranked among the highest gratifications of our nature! It consists of half Madeira wine and half water, acidulated with the fragrant lime, sweetened with sugar, and flavoured with nutmeg. A stronger sort of it is sometimes made under the superlative name of sangrorum. This differs from the former, only in containing a greater proportion of wine.
The too-prevalent English custom of sending away the ladies, or, according to the politer term, of the ladies retiring after dinner, for the gentlemen to enjoy their bottle, prevails also at Barbadoes; and, we have thought, even to a greater extreme than in England. They leave us very soon after dinner, and, often, we see no more of them during the evening. Frequently they do not join us before dinner; but we find them all assembled, at the head of the table, when we enter the dining-room. The party is sometimes so badly arranged, that we have scarcely more of the society of the ladies, and the people of the island, than if we had remained on board ship. Instead of the different persons being, pleasantly, intermixed, it is too common to see the ladies grouped together in a body at the upper end of the table; the officers and strangers, just arrived from Europe, placed at one side; and the gentlemen of the island, who are familiar acquaintances, at the other. The attendants at the dinner-table are very numerous. In addition to those of the family, almost every gentleman has his own slave; and, thus, to frequently happens that the room is crowded with sable domestics, whose surfaces emit an odour not less savoury than the richest dishes of the board.
In its supply of fresh provisions, particularly what is here termed stock, such as fowls and the like, Barbadoes exhibits a degree of plenty unknown in the neighbouring islands. This seems to be the happy effect of allowing the slaves to raise these things for sale, together with there being many small settlers, distributed about the country, who find their support chiefly in breeding stock for the markets. Poultry has been our principal food. Turkies, Guinea fowls, and chickens, we have had in great abundance. When we arrived, in the month of February, they were sold in the public market at little more than a bit (about 5½d.) per pound, but from the increased demand, consequent upon the presence of so many troops, and such throngs of shipping, the price is now raised to nearly two bits. The Muscovy ducks are also bred in numbers upon the island, and are so large as to appear like geese, when dressed for the table. Next to small stock they have veal and pork in the greatest plenty. In Bridge-town they have also a fish-market, which at times is well supplied, but not so regularly, as, from the insular situation of the country, might be expected.
You will form some idea of the immense flocks of poultry raised on this little island, when I tell you that not only the ships of war, and the transports, but most of the West India trading vessels, recruit their provisions at Barbadoes; and that in addition to this constant and extensive drain it furnishes occasional supplies to the other colonies. Since we have been in Carlisle Bay, we have seen, at various times, great quantities of stock shipped for Martinique.
In point of clothing the people of Barbadoes deviate less from the habits of England than the difference of climate would seem to warrant. Their dress resembles that worn in our more northern latitude, being commonly a cloth coat, white cotton waistcoat, and nankeen pantaloons. In some instances people of very active employment, or those who are much exposed in the fields, have the whole suit made of nankeen. Their night clothing seems more appropriate to the greater heat of the climate than the apparel of the day. It is common to sleep on a hard mattress in a long cotton shirt, without any other covering, except in the coolest season, when they make the slight addition of a cotton sheet.
One of the most prominent characteristics of the island is the tedious languor in which the people of Barbadoes pronounce their words. To convey to you, by the pen, any idea of their manner of speaking is utterly impossible: to be comprehended, it must be heard. The languid syllables are drawled out as if it were a great fatigue to utter them; and the tortured ear of an European grows impatient in waiting for the end of a word, or a sentence. “How you do to da—ay,” spoken by a Barbadian creole, consumes nearly as much time as might suffice for all the compliments of the morning! nor is this wearisome pronunciation confined to the people of colour; it occurs, likewise, among the whites, particularly those who have not visited Europe, nor resided for some time away from the island. In the same lengthened accent do the lower orders of Barbadians vent their unrestrained rage, in vollies of uncommonly dreadful oaths, which, in their horrible combinations and epithets, form imprecations peculiarly impious.
In manner, also, and in movement, as well as in speech, a degree of indolence and inaction prevails, beyond what might be expected, merely from heat of climate, and which is extremely annoying to Europeans.
The state of the negroes in Barbadoes varies, as the state of slaves must ever do, according to the disposition and circumstances of the master. Under such humane and benevolent characters as Mr. Waith, and others whom we have visited, their situation might be envied by the poor of European nations! But under severe and cruel masters it becomes a state of ceaseless vexation and misery.
On the very important question of slavery in general I do not feel that my experience, hitherto, in the West Indies, enables me to judge with accuracy. But I will take care to note for you such facts as shall occur to my observation, and I may some day, perhaps, give you them in a separate letter.
Very much to the discredit of Barbadoes, numbers of old, diseased, or decrepit negroes, objects of compassion, and of horror, are seen lying at the corners, or begging about the streets. This, like the toleration of the swarms of mendicants in England, is a nuisance for which there is no excuse. If these poor unfortunate negroes be free, they should be relieved by a general tax upon the island: if slaves, the law should compel every master to provide for his own. Should the laws of humanity be insufficient, and those of justice inadequate, a law of coercion should constrain the unfeeling owner to protect and cherish the being, whose youth and vigour have been expended for his benefit; and who, having worn out his days, in the heavy toils of bondage, is grown aged and infirm!
What can be so unworthy! what so disgraceful, as for a master to neglect, in old age, the slave from whom he has exacted all the labour of youth, and all the vigour of manhood? Perhaps nothing portrays in more melancholy demonstration, the possible depravity of the human heart! No longer able to exert himself to his owner’s profit, the aged slave, enfeebled by years, and exhausted by toil, is left to beg his yam from door to door! Abandoned by his cruel master, he becomes a pensioner upon promiscuous charity, or is allowed to fall a prey to disease, and to want!
Without some compulsory law the slaves of the avaricious and of the lower orders, who are, themselves, scarcely removed from indigence, must ever be subject to this hard lot of neglect and cruelty.
The first specimen of West India slaves which met our observation was singularly calculated to impress us with sentiments of compassion and disgust. It occurred at the very moment, too, when the impression would be most powerful, and consequently it will remain indelible. Immediately on our coming to anchor in Carlisle Bay, a woman appeared alongside the ship in a small boat, with some bad fruit, tobacco, salt fish, and other articles of traffic. She was rowed by two negroes, who were her slaves. Two such objects of human form and human misery had never before met our eyes! They were feeble, meager, and dejected—half-starved, half-naked, and, in figure, too accurately resembling hungry and distempered greyhounds! They crouched upon their heels and haunches in the boat; their bones almost pierced their filthy and eruptive skins; their wasted frames trembled with debility; and, while their hollow eyes and famished countenances rendered them ghastly images of horror, their whole appearance shocked humanity, and appalled the sight! Are these, we exclaimed, what are called slaves? Is this the state to which human beings are reduced in bondage? Afflicting and cruel indeed! Well may slavery be deemed a curse! Can it be possible that these spectres once were men? Are such the objects we are to see? Are these the wretched and deplorable beings who are to appear every day, and every hour before our eyes? Forbid it humanity! forbid it Heaven! Such was the apostrophe of the moment, and I feel a sincere gratification in being able to inform you that the melancholy subjects of this first impression were not correct examples of the general mass of slaves. Still it is grievous that any such should be seen: but we hope to find them only rare instances, for we learn that the large gangs of negroes kept by the great merchants, and the planters, are generally treated with kindness and humanity, and appear contented and in comfort.
It is easy to distinguish the slaves of the opulent and respectable inhabitants from those of the poor and needy people of the town. The latter, being in poverty themselves, can only give to their negroes a scanty allowance of food, while their indigence induces them to exact an over-proportion of labour. Hence the slaves of this class of people appear too often with sharp bones and hungry sallow countenances, having eruptions about the body, and their skins of an unhealthy hue. Their general appearance indeed is dirty and unwholesome, and strikingly marks their neglected state. Want and wretchedness are deeply stamped in every line of their persons; and they may not inaptly be said to resemble the worn-out horse or the starved and jaded ass, too often seen trembling under a heavy burden, or reeling in an old tattered cart upon the roads of England.
It is not the practice to load the slaves with a superfluity of clothing: a shirt, and a pair of breeches, or only the latter, for the men; and a single petticoat for the women, constitute the whole apparel. Bedding and bedclothes find no place in their list of necessaries: they usually sleep on a hard plank, in the clothing of the day. Repose is both ensured and sweetened to them by labour; and the head needs no pillow but the arm. Some who, by means of industry and economy, are more advanced in their little comforts, procure a kind of matting, a paillasse of plantain-leaves, or some other species of bedding, to defend them from the bare plank; but this is an indulgence self-attained, not a necessary provided by the master. The architecture of their huts is as rude as it is simple. A roof of plantain-leaves, with a few rough boards, nailed to the coarse pillars which support it, form the whole building. The leeward side is commonly left in part open, and the roof projects to some distance over the door-way, forming a defence against both the sun and the rain.
Notwithstanding the great heat experienced by Europeans, the negroes feel the evenings chilly, and we frequently see them crowding round the bit of fire which they make for cooking their supper. This is commonly in the open air near to the door of the hut; but they sometimes place it upon the middle of the dirt floor withinside the building; where they seem to have great enjoyment in squatting round it, amidst the thick cloud of smoke, to whiff additional fumes from the short pipe or sagar, and to join in loud and merry song.
Smoking is an universal custom among them. In order to be at all moments provided for this enjoyment, they carry in their breeches pocket a short pipe, about an inch in length from the bowl; or instead of this a leaf of tobacco rolled into a sagar. Very often the pipe is so short, or the sagar so closely smoked away, as to endanger burning the nose, or even the lips. I have frequently seen them smoking with the pipe so short as to hold it in the mouth by pressing with the lips upon the lower part of the bowl. They often kindle their pipes, by putting bowl to bowl and nose to nose, and smoking into each other’s eyes, until the tobacco has taken fire.
The food of the negroes is issued to them weekly, under the inspection of the manager. It is very simple and but little varied; breakfast, dinner, and supper being similar to each other, and the same throughout the year. It consists mostly of Guinea corn, with a small bit of salt meat, or salt fish. Formerly a bunch of plantains was given to each slave as the weekly allowance: but the plantain-walks being mostly worn out, this is become an expensive provision. Rice, maize, yams, eddoes, and sweet potatoes form an occasional change, but the Guinea corn is, commonly, issued as the weekly supply; and in order to obtain some variety of food, they barter this in exchange for other provisions, or sell it for money, and with that buy salt meat or vegetables. We see them occasionally offering the Guinea corn for sale; and on being asked why they sell it, they thus express themselves: “Me no like for have him Guinea corn always! Massa gib me Guinea corn too much. Guinea corn to-day! Guinea corn to-morrow! Guinea corn eb’ry day! Me no like him Guinea corn—him Guinea corn no good for gnhyaam.”
The weekly supply being issued to them on the Sunday, it becomes their own care how to use it so as to have a sufficiency of food until the following Sabbath. Those who are industrious have little additions of their own, either from vegetables grown on the spot of ground allotted to them, or purchased with the money obtained for the pig, the goat, or other stock raised about their huts in the negro-yard.
A mess of pottage, or very hot soup, called pepper-pot, is one of their favorite dishes, which is also much esteemed by the inhabitants, and by strangers. It is prepared by stewing various kinds of vegetables with a bit of salt meat, or salt fish, and seasoning it very highly with the pods of the red pepper. The vegetable, called squashes, is much used in these pepper-pots. Bread is unknown among the slaves of the West Indies: nor, indeed, is it in common use among their masters, but they find very excellent substitutes in the yam, the cassada, and the eddoe.
The usual round of labour of the slaves is from sunrise to sunset, having intervals of rest allowed them, at the times of breakfast, and dinner.
The negroes are generally sad thieves; they appear to know no sense of honesty. Ignorant of all moral principle, they steal without thinking it wrong, and without any apprehension, except that of being detected. The planters are obliged to employ one or two of the most trusty of them in the capacity of watchmen to guard, by close and constant attention, the orchards, plantain-walks, provision-stores, and the like, from the depredations of their own and their neighbours’ slaves. Although they have no remorse in stealing whensoever or wheresoever opportunity offers, still they are peculiarly prone to robbing their masters; and this they do not even consider a theft, as is too evident by an expression very common among them, viz. “Me no tief him: me take him from Massa.”
In speaking to you of the exemption of Barbadoes from great and destructive sickness, I remarked that, although it escaped some general ills, it was visited with a malady peculiarly its own. As this forms a characteristic feature of the country, and cannot but attract the notice, and excite the curiosity of strangers, you would not excuse me if I were to neglect offering you a few words upon the subject.
The disease is the elephantiasis; called by some the “glandular disease,” but, by the many, designated simply the “Barbadoes disease.” It commonly appears in the form of an enormous enlargement of one or both legs; but affects occasionally other parts, particularly the scrotum, which becomes increased to a surprising bulk. When once established, it is extremely difficult to remove, and for the most part proves to be incurable. It disturbs the general health less than might be expected, and frequently exists for many years, or, even during the remainder of a long life, without seeming materially to impair the constitution. It is mostly seen among the negroes, but it occurs also among the creole whites, and even suffers not the Europeans to escape. Although so frequent in Barbadoes, as to be held in a great degree peculiar or endemial, it is not wholly confined to this country: some instances of it being found in the neighbouring islands.
It would seem not to have been so prevalent, as it now is, from any very distant period of time; for about the year 1760 died at Barbadoes a man named Francis Briggs, more commonly known by the fictitious appellation of Christopher Columbus, who, from the uncommon and monstrous appearance of his legs, had been represented as the bugbear or object of terror for the purpose of frightening children.
Male and female, young, middle-aged, and old, black, yellow, and white, are now all subject to its attack; and, in walking along the streets, the eye is distressed, at almost every corner, with the appearance of this hideous deformity.
The disease usually begins with an affection of the inguinal glands, from whence a red streak, or line of inflammation extends down the limb, in the direction of the lymphatic vessels; the part becoming tumefied, and taking on a shining and œdematous appearance. The swelling gradually occupies the whole of the leg, increasing until, in many instances, the limb is more than double its ordinary size. The skin assumes a morbid change, grows rough and scaly, or is covered with irregular wart-like risings. In some cases deep belts or indentations appear in various parts of the tumor, as if formed by the pressure of ligatures: in others the swelling bulges out in a number of irregular protrusions: sometimes, from extreme distention, the skin breaks into fissures, and a watery fluid oozes out, which, on exposure to the air, grows gelatinous upon the surface. The foot frequently partakes of the disease: but in many cases the immense tumor of the leg terminates abruptly at the ancle, hanging over the foot in knotty, and scaly excrescences. The deformity is thus diversified; the enormous bulk of leg appearing under a variety of unseemly and disgusting shapes. As the enlargement increases, the whole extremity becomes hard and squamous; and the distended skin, which was at first œdematous, grows thick and corneous, and entirely resists the pressure of the finger.
It has been found on dissection that, from the effused lymph which originally caused the tumor being coagulated and hardened, the substance of the enlarged limb has assumed an appearance not unlike brawn; the morbid skin, and the cellular membrane under it, being thickened into a tough, horny, and almost cartilaginous consistence.
From this unsightly malady being mostly accompanied with fever of an intermittent type, we often hear it termed “the fever and ague.” Indeed from the periodical returns of the paroxysms, and from the tumefaction succeeding to them, the disease has been very generally considered only as an effect resulting from intermittent fever. The practice, said to be successful in its removal, seems also to be founded upon this view of it. Regard being had to the fever as the original affection, the elephantiasis is viewed only as a sequel, and the curative means are directed solely to the extinction of the febrile symptoms: which being effected, by antimony and Peruvian bark, the patient is sent for a time to some other island, by way of change of climate, in order to prevent a relapse. No particular attention is paid to the tumor, which, on the fever being removed, is expected gradually to diminish. But sometimes, instead of receding, it remains stationary, or is increased; or if it subside, is renewed on any future invasion of the fever.
Often a return to Barbadoes brings a return of the intermittent, and a consequent addition to the enlargement of the already thickened extremity; and from the attacks of the disease recurring in frequent repetition, there remains no way of preventing it from being established into an incurable deformity, but by seeking the remedy of a more temperate climate. Frequently the disorder seems to be entirely subdued by a few years residence in England, yet again takes place on the patient returning to Barbadoes.
Some regard the disease in a directly opposite point of view, considering the glandular tumor, with its attendant inflammation of the lymphatics, as the primary affection, and the fever merely as symptomatic: but it is not consistent with my present purpose, to enter into the discussion of this question.
Different opinions have been held respecting the origin of this singular affection. Being most frequent, or first observed among the negroes, many have believed it to be imported with them from the shores of Africa: but this opinion is divested of probability, by the extraordinary prevalence of the disease at Barbadoes. Were it brought by the slaves from Africa, it would be equally common in the other settlements; and, not being infectious, would not be seen among the white creoles, or the Europeans. It is undoubtedly the indigenous offspring of the island, and perhaps is connected with a peculiarly arid state of the atmosphere; for in the colonies shadowed with thick forests and vegetation, it is still unknown, and has only grown common at Barbadoes, in proportion as its woods have been removed, and the surface of the land left unsheltered.
Except on its early attack, or at the periods of acute relapse, the disease is attended with little or no pain, and the enlargement sometimes proceeds so gradually, that the person himself is almost insensible of it. He walks about as usual, and appears to suffer but little inconvenience, either from the additional bulk, or the great increase of weight. Hence it is often less afflicting to the individual, than offensive to others. It is extremely repugnant to the sight; and as the negroes walk in the streets with these diseased limbs exposed to every eye, Europeans, but recently arrived, are exceedingly annoyed by their filthy and monstrous appearance.
Perhaps nature has not formed, nor can the human mind conceive a being at once so disgusting, and so pitiable, as an old half-famished negro woman, of withered frame, hobbling about with her loose and naked skin hanging shrivelled in deep-furrowed wrinkles; and dragging after her one or both legs grown into an immense bulk of hideous disease—her feet only toes, protruding from this huge mass of distempered leg! Yet such are the objects too often seen upon the streets of Bridge-town!