IT was early on a bright winter morning that our good ship "San Jacinto" steamed into the harbour of Nassau, the capital of New Providence. As I leaned over the side and looked down into the waters over which our vessel moved, I could scarcely believe my eyes. It seemed impossible that water deep enough to float the ship should be so marvellously clear. We appeared to be gliding over a sheet of sea-green crystal. Not a pebble, bit of sponge, shell, fish, crab, or coral, but was distinctly visible, as if but a few inches below the surface. It was like floating in ether, for the glint of shimmering sunlight alone proved it was fluid. But water it was, and nothing else, for, as we neared the wharf, a score or so of dusky forms splashed into the briny mirror, breaking up its glassy surface, sent a spray of diamonds into the air, and then dived into its pellucid depths in quest of coppers liberally scattered by the amused passengers. "Please, Boss, deeve (give) us a small dive," was the entreaty shouted by a good dozen or so of dusky urchins, who, on the least encouragement, jerked off their coats and shirts and plunged into the sea. Sometimes they caught the coin before it touched the bottom, at others the diver remained quite a time searching for his prize, looking, as seen from above, with his wriggling arms and legs, like a huge black spider.
When Christopher Columbus landed on the shores of "Guanahanè," on October 17th, 1492, and named the present island of New Providence San Salvador, he wrote a letter to the Spanish Sovereigns, full of his usual expressions of delighted enthusiasm. "The loveliness," says he, "of this island is like unto that of the Campaña de Cordoba. The trees are all covered with ever-verdant foliage, and perpetually laden with flowers or fruit. The plants in the ground are full of blossom. The breezes are like those of April in Castille." Due allowance made for the exaggeration of an explorer, in love with the treasure he has found, it must still be confessed that his words, all glowing as they are, scarcely overpraise the charm of the peaceful scenery which so stirred his poetic ardour. For truly the Bahamas are islands like unto that chosen by Shakespeare for the scene of the "Tempest,"—
"Full of infinite delight."
New Providence is about twenty miles long by seven in breadth, and is the most important, though by no means the biggest, of the Bahama group, which numbers over 600 islands and cays, and contains some 45,000 inhabitants, of whom 20,000 reside in Nassau and its neighbourhood.
The history of the island since its discovery by Columbus, down through the Buccaneer period, is only interesting to its government and inhabitants. However dark may be the memories of its old pirate days, it is now a remarkably respectable place, not even a murder having thrown a shadow during the past twenty-five years on its nearly untarnished reputation. It would be difficult to imagine a quieter spot. On Sundays, especially, is it peaceful, when not only all the shops, but the majority of the house-shutters also, are closed, and the tranquil air is laden with church music of the most sober and orthodox description.
The impression produced upon the tourist arriving from Cuba is very striking, for it brings the different influences of the Spanish and the Anglo-Saxon races, upon the negroes, into vivid contrast. Personal observation only can, as I have already said, give any idea of the filth of the dwellings of the lower classes of Cubans, and especially of the blacks. The coloured folk of Nassau are, generally speaking, clean and tidy. Most of the Cuban towns are more or less squalid. The city of Nassau is, if anything, too prim, and its inhabitants are models of order both in their dress and habits. A glance reveals the fact that the coloured people here have been disciplined and trained by a race which is as certainly superior to the Spanish, in all that concerns practicality and common sense, as it is inferior to it in natural artistic instinct. I never saw anything—no, not even in the Whitechapel and Drury Lane districts of London—to surpass the unutterable disorder and general abomination of the interiors of the Cuban cottages. But as you pass along the roads at Nassau, and glance into the windows of the negroes' cottages, you will almost invariably see tidy interiors worthy of the brush of a Teniers or a David Wilkie; a floor on which you could eat your dinner; walls neatly papered with framed chromos symmetrically arranged upon them; spotless curtains; shining brass lamps and cooking utensils, and a bed covered with a counterpane as white as driven snow. If you peep in at meal times you will note a clean cloth covered with orderly-arranged plates and dishes. I am speaking of the dwellings of the negroes, of those self-same coloured people who, in the same climate, only a day and a half's journey away, in Cuba, dwell, under another race and civilization, in a condition too nasty to be described here.
Straws show how the wind blows. I saw a poor coloured woman, the day after I arrived in Nassau, soundly box her little girl's ears because she appeared in public with a few fluffs of cotton sticking in her wool. The ordinary afternoon occupation of the coloured ladies in Havana is to sit in the shade of the big plantain leaves, picking something rather more animated than cotton fluffs off each other's heads. The Cuban negresses dress flaringly. They trail a yard of skirt behind them in the dust, cover their shoulders with a vivid embroidered China crape scarf, and deck their heads with a mantilla. The effect is picturesque enough, but look down at their ankles, and you will soon perceive untidy petticoats and shoeless feet. The coloured girls at Nassau are remarkably neat and clean, especially on Sundays. The influence of the Sunday school teacher, preaching, and not in the desert, the gospel of those four great evangelists, soap and water, comb and brush, is everywhere manifest, even to the detriment of the picturesque.
As you drive through Grant's Town, the negro quarter of Nassau, you see so much to gladden you that it does more real good to an invalid than many a cunningly-prepared draught. Charmingly picturesque wooden huts, thatched with palmetto, and as neat as you please, overshadowed by cocoa-nut-trees and exquisite flowering creepers, border either side of the road. On the thresholds are laughing groups of women and children of every shade of black, mahogany, and "yullar." Then, when the shades of evening grow long and deep in the thickets of the banyan-trees, coloured Pyramus courts coloured Thisbe over the garden wall, and the roads swarm with little darkies, romping, laughing, and chasing each other round and about, whilst neatly-dressed women, standing at their doors, or leaning out of their open windows, watch the return of their "men," as they boldly call their husbands. The air is still and laden with the penetrating perfume of the stephanotis, the white blossoms of which gleam like stars amidst the dark foliage, and of the crimson and pink oleander, which flowers here to great perfection. It is difficult to imagine a more peaceful scene—the cheerful sounds of greeting, the merry chatter of the negroes, the tuning of the banjoes, whilst overhead the beautiful sunset-lit clouds shed rosy tints abroad, and set forth in bold relief the tall stems of the waving palms and of the strange-named trees, whose bizarre foliage arouses wonderment, and between whose gnarled boughs we catch glimpses of the high-roofed houses of the city, of the cathedral spire, and of a sea blue as a turquoise, now shivering beneath the gentlest of breezes.
The town of Nassau itself is not particularly interesting, inasmuch that, with the sole exception of the cathedral, it cannot boast of a single monument of artistic importance. The houses, mostly built of stone, faced with wood, have high slated roofs and wide verandahs, which surround each storey, and afford some shade during the sunny hours of the day. The public buildings are clean, but unpretentious, and evidently modelled after those of some English county town, in which the sturdy Georgian architecture predominates. There are few traces, anywhere, of the influence of the higher art, although the cathedral itself is a fairly handsome Gothic building, wherein the services of the Church of England are admirably conducted.
The gardens are trim and pretty, but, notwithstanding their profusion of tropical plants, they lack the luxuriant charm which renders the ill-kept gardens of Havana so romantic and picturesque. Very few of the gardens belonging to private houses are of great size, and even Government House is a modest-looking dwelling, erected on the highest of the surrounding hills, and commanding a fine view of the town and harbour.
The chief monument of Nassau is not one built by hand, but a silk-cotton-tree, planted, some two hundred years ago, by one John Miller, Esq., opposite the present "public buildings." It is a stupendous tree of Titanic proportions. The roots, unable to find their way down through the rocky soil, swell up like buttresses, radiating round the trunk some fifteen yards, and, rising six and eight feet from the ground, form part of the actual bulk of the tree, and give the huge veteran the appearance of a web-footed monster, standing in solemn reverie. Amongst the gnarled and weird-looking roots are ravines, in whose dark hollows a legion of elves might dwell and hold their revels. High above this root-work spreads a canopy of leaves of the most exquisite, tender green. Singular to say, the gigantic growth flattens at the top, and is nearly squared off in correspondence with the aspect the paucity of earth has forced the roots to assume. Had Shakespeare seen this mighty monster,—which travellers from California declare to be even more imposing than any of the Mammoth trees,—he would have immortalised it in a few grand lines, or made it the background of some quaint fairy scene, the home of another Herne the Hunter, Oberon and Titania, Ariel, or Puck. There are several other fine silk-cotton-trees on the island, and in Cuba this tree grows to perfection, but the specimen I have attempted to describe is universally acknowledged to be the finest known. I was much surprised to notice the rapidity with which the silk-cotton tree burst into leaf. On my arrival I noticed one in the grounds of the hotel which seemed to be dead. The rest were green, but this one was quite barren. In three days it was lost to sight, hidden in its own foliage, developed within the space of two nights. The silk-cotton-tree is so called because it bears a pod full of flossy silk, which is used instead of down for pillow cases, but the fibres are too short to be woven.
Nassau and its neighbourhood are really not unlike an open-air museum of botanical and marine curiosities. As you drive, or walk, through the woods and lanes, your attention is constantly attracted to some tree or shrub remarkable for its curious shape, leaves, and flowers. If you ask its name you will be told it is either the gum-arabic-tree, the guava, the banyan, the ipicac, the pimento, the spice, the cinnamon, the pepper, the caper, the castor-oil, or, in short, any one of half the plants which stock our drug or grocery shops. One day I noticed an onion-like-looking plant, with somewhat curious leaves, and asked its name. It turned out to be my old acquaintance "squills," of syrup-fame. Lady Blake, who is not only a distinguished artist, but an exceptionally learned botanist, has executed a complete series of exquisite drawings of the flora of the Bahamas. It would be difficult to overpraise the artistic, as well as the scientific value of this collection, exhibited in the Bahama Court of the Colonial Exhibition of 1886. During the Governorship of her husband, Sir Henry Blake, Lady Blake rendered a like service to the flora of Jamaica.
The cocoa-nut tree is a recent introduction into the Bahamas. Forty years back there were few in the whole island of New Providence. The orange-tree is indigenous to the island, and there is other fruit of exceedingly fine quality. A very extraordinary fact about the local vegetation is, that the roots are entirely exposed. The island is of coral formation, and only very lightly covered with earth; but such is the abundance of the dews, and so great the fertilising quality of the atmosphere, that a plant with one or two feelers caught in the pores of the coraline rock will grow and flourish. There are big trees with all their roots, save one, above ground. Some trees may be noticed growing astride the public walks, with one half of their roots on one side and the rest on the other. The immense amount of decayed animal matter in the coraline makes it one of the richest of soils, and the heavy dews which fall immediately after sunset, and of which I shall speak presently, increase its fertility. A number of "air-plants" grow in the woods, and of course derive their nourishment entirely from the abundant dews. These curious plants are, for the most part, a species of wild pine. One of the most remarkable of them is the "green snake," which looks exactly like a long serpent. The common life-plant of the tropics grows everywhere, and, together with the air-plants, rouses much curiosity among visitors from Europe and North America. If you take one of its thick, waxy leaves, and hang it on a nail, it will live for months, and shoot forth others without needing either water or earth.
The useful sizel plant—a fibrous hemp yielding aloe—of great commercial value, is now extensively cultivated, and with excellent results. Great impetus was given to its culture by Sir Ambrose Shea during his prolonged and popular Governorship.
The scenery round Nassau is of pancake flatness, and uninteresting, except close to the town, where there are some little hills of inconsiderable height, which might vie in altitude with a certain Mount Cornelia near St Augustine, Florida, advertised as one of the attractions of a watering-place called Mount George, because it is ninety feet high. Verily a dwarf is a giant amongst pigmies, and Mount Cornelia is a Mount Blanc in flat Florida. If it is ever planted with the eucalyptus-tree, now extensively cultivated in the south, and which often attain the extraordinary height of 300 and 400 feet, the trees will in due time be taller than the mountain.
There are some pretty little lakes in the interior of the island. One of these, Lake Killarney, is a very charming spot, with a fine view of the western coast. The lake is about three miles long by one in breadth. All along the shores are pineapple plantations, which are uncommonly effective when the pines are in bloom. The plants are set in rows all over the field, about one or two feet apart, and what with their variegated foliage—bright green and deep purple—and their vivid scarlet flowers, they make a striking foreground to any picture. The Bahama pines are considered the best in these latitudes, and are shipped in large quantities to Europe and North America.
The crowning glory of Nassau is the unrivalled bay, with its enchantingly clear, crystal water. Many a happy day have I spent, sailing round the pretty shores of this pleasant island. We usually had for "captain" a certain remarkable darkie, by name "Cap'en" Tannyson Stump, one of those sable worthies you read about, full of drollery, shrewd and witty withal, and a capital sailor into the bargain. The Cap'en is reputed wealthy, for he is a great favourite with the visitors, and, moreover, is considered, by the inhabitants of Grant Town, the greatest "dissentin' minister" on the island. Amongst other natural wonders the "Cap'en" took us to see was the "sea garden." I wish Victor Hugo could have studied it, for possibly he might have been tempted to describe it, in his vivid language, as a pendant to his sea-monster, the devil-fish of the "Toilers of the Sea." Thus should we have had a glowing word picture of the beautiful instead of the hideous—the paradise of the sea, and not its hell. They give you a box with a glass bottom to look through. You put it over the side of the boat, and dip it beneath the waves. Lo! you behold the garden of the sea-nymphs, the home of Aphrodite. Beneath you, seen through the pellucid waters of this vast aquarium, is a lovely sea-garden, full of every imaginable delicate-tinted sea-flower. Some are pale pink, others light yellow, and some brown as leaves in autumn, massed round the vivid purple and scarlet sea-anemones, which cling to the summits of beds of pearly coral. Here purple sea-fans wave gently to and fro. There are groves of trumpet sponges, and beds of marine blossoms of all kinds and shapes. Fish as brilliant as hummingbirds—red, blue, metallic-green, and orange—peep knowingly in and out of the branches of this strange submarine vegetation, which is crossed and recrossed in all directions by pathways of sparkling, silver gravel. Nothing more fascinating, more fairy-like, can be imagined. You expect at any moment to see Venus or one of her nymphs—or, perchance, old Edward's Sable Aphrodite—rise suddenly to the surface from this abode of cool delights.
Involuntarily the world-renowned description of the bottom of the sea was brought to my mind,—
| "Methought I saw ... |
| Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, |
| Inestimable stones, unvalu'd jewels, |
| All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea. |
| Some lay in dead men's skulls, and, in those holes, |
| Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept |
| (As 'twere in scorn of eyes) reflecting gems, |
| That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, |
| And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by." |
A scene very similar to the one described by Shakespeare has been seen in these clear waters after a wreck. Many years ago, when a hurricane of unusual violence swept over the islands, and there were several ships lost in the usually glassy harbour, people, when calm set in again, had the horror of studying, from their boats, the tragic condition of the wrecked vessels at the bottom of the bay. They could see the drowned dead below, whom some weight oppressed and forbade to rise. I well remember, though 'tis long years since, the dread impression produced upon me by the sight of the "phantom ship." In the days of the Spaniards, a vessel of importance, a man-of-war, was wrecked and sunk opposite a place called Hog Island—Horace Greely's lovely daughter, Gabriele, re-christened it Isle of Porcina. This vessel fell a victim in due time to the greed of those wondrous ants of the sea, the coral insects, who, with infinite industry, soon contrived to coat it with their microscopic huts, and now you see it lying full five fathoms deep beneath you, all white and hoary in its coraline encasement. The deck, the hull, the tattered rigging, ropes and chains, are all white with corals, and around the ghastly ship rise the pale blue walls of its sea prison.
The moonlight nights at Nassau, although marvellously beautiful, are not a little dangerous to fresh arrivals, on account of the heavy dews. I remember one evening we all went out to see the ruins of the fort built in 1788 by the Earl of Dunmore, memorably connected with the American Revolution. It certainly was a lovely sight, and the old grey walls and tower looked as well as any ruin on Rhine or Nile by that argentine radiance, approaching sunlight in its tropical brilliance, which renders things more or less romantic, be they ever so commonplace. The tall palms rustled in the breeze, and the bay was like a sheet of shivering quicksilver, just over where the imprisoned phantom ship rests, five fathoms down, "woo'd for ever to the slimy bottom of the deep." The sight was exquisite. The price more than one visitor ultimately paid in aching head and stiff rheumatic bones was anything but light!
And with this glimpse at an Isle of June, as New Providence has been aptly called—introduced into this book merely as a contrast—I take my leave.
Vale—gentle reader!—fare thee well.
NO historical question has been more keenly disputed than that of the real place where Christopher Columbus was born. The majority incline to believe him to have been a native of Genoa, or else of the neighbouring town of Savona. One learned gentleman has even asserted in a very elaborate pamphlet, published not long ago, that he came from Cremona. The Abate Casanova of Ajaccio, in another pamphlet, attempts, on the strength of a very ancient but equally obscure tradition, to prove that Columbus was a Corsican. He goes so far as to point out the very house in the Vico del Filo at Calvi, in which he firmly believes the Discoverer first saw light. His statements, ingenious as they are, lack contemporary evidence to substantiate them, and very little research suffices to scatter them to the winds. I have lately seen a curious and rare French pamphlet, in which Columbus is declared to be a native of Marseilles, and yet another, the author of which endeavours to convince his readers that the Discoverer was born at Albenga. In short, a voluminous literature has sprung out of this vexed question, but to the serious student of the life and times of Columbus Genoa and Savona alone appear worthy of respect.
To the Marquis Staglieno of Genoa, one of the most enterprising of modern Italian historians, and to Mr Henry Harrisse, a learned and indefatigable American student of the life of Columbus, the definite determination of the great Navigator's birthplace is really due. He was born in Genoa, in a house standing still, near the ancient and recently restored gate of St Andrea, at the top of a long, steep street known as the Portorio, in the parish of San Stefano.
Domenico Colombo, the father of the illustrious navigator, is described by Washington Irving and other writers as a "wool comber," but in all the contemporary documents discovered by the historians just named he is invariably said to have been "a woollen manufacturer,"—a position very different from that of a wool comber, the difference being that between a mechanic and a tradesman. No wonder that Ferdinand Columbus indignantly contradicted an assertion which most of us, even in this democratic age, would keenly resent. Although never in affluent circumstances, Domenico and Susanna Colombo, Christopher's parents, were evidently highly respectable tradespeople, who spent the whole of their lives between Genoa and Savona. Probably Domenico Colombo was born at Quinto, a village not many miles distant from the capital of the Genoese Republic. His father, Giovanni Colombo, undoubtedly lived there, for, in a document dated 1439, he is described as "Giovanni Colombo of Quinto, the father of Domenico of Genoa." This Giovanni was, it seems, according to another and still more ancient deed, the son of a certain Giovanni Colombo, of Fontanarossa, another village in the district. As the inhabitants of this village were engaged in sheep-dealing, it is probable that this Giovanni was a wool merchant, and since Fernando Columbo, with the justifiable vanity of the son of a great man, seems to have been always desirous of claiming a social position, and signs himself, on more than one occasion, as "of Fontanarossa," we may go so far as to conclude that the Colombo (or Columbus) family was, according to its own tradition, the principal in that place. The family and Christian names of the great-grandmother and grandmother of the Discoverer of the New World are lost. His mother, however, was Susanna of Fontanarossa, a native of the suburb of Bisagno. This is proved by a document in the Savonese archives, whereby, on the 7th August 1743, "Susanna, daughter of Giacomo of Fontanaruba (the Latin for Fontanarossa), in the Bisagno, agrees to allow her husband, Domenico Colombo of Genoa, to sell a house situated in that city, near the Olivella Gate." It is described as a house with a pleasant garden, in the parish of San Stefano, and next door to the house and property of Nicola Paravagna, and adjacent to the property of Antonio Bondi. "The house faces the principal street, and is close to the old wall of the town." In this document Domenico Colombo is specially designated as a citizen of Savona—because, as he had by this time resided there some years, he was entitled to citizenship.
This house, however, is not, as has been so frequently and erroneously stated, the one in which Columbus was born. It has long since disappeared, to make way for the enlargement of the neighbouring hospital. The Porta (or Gate) Olivella stood for centuries to the right of the church of San Stefano. As this house is very often mentioned in deeds of the period of the last half of the fifteenth century as belonging to the family of Domenico Colombo, we are able to trace its history with fair accuracy. It formed part of the dower of Susanna Fontanarossa, for, as we have already seen, it could not be sold without her permission. It is probable that the family, instead of living in it, was in the habit of letting it. On more than one occasion the tenant did not pay his rent, and in 1476 Domenico Colombo had to come from Savona to Genoa to exact it. Unable to get the £20 due to him for arrears, he raised (through his notary, a certain Signer Camogli) a loan on the sum, the tenant, Malio, becoming a guarantee for the amount of his unpaid rent—"Occasione pensionis euiusdem domus ipsius Dominici quam tenet et conducit, etc."
Domenico Colombo possessed yet another house, still standing, and situated close to the recently restored Gate of Sant Andrea, at the top of the long, steep street still called Portorio. In this venerable building Christopher Columbus was unquestionably born, in 1451.
Four years before the discovery of America by his illustrious son, Domenico Colombo, being in reduced circumstances, was obliged to transfer this house to his son-in-law Bavarello, the husband of his only daughter Bianchinetta. The papers relative to this proceeding are still in existence, and bear the date July 30, 1489. Domenico Colombo certainly lived here with his wife and family from 1435 to 1470, when they went to Savona. This is proved by the register of the monastery of San Stefano, in which they are regularly entered as paying a yearly ecclesiastical tax to the Prior during the whole of this period. They left Genoa in 1470, and resided at Savona until 1484. The Savonese archives, however, contain frequent mention of Domenico until 1494, when he again returned to Genoa, where, in all probability, he died, some years later. In the deed authorising the sale of the house in Porta Olivella, the witnesses are "Christopher Colombo and Giovanni Pellegrino, sons of Domenico and Susanna Colombo."
Washington Irving was unaware of the existence of this son Giovanni Pellegrino, for he states that "Christopher Columbus was the eldest of three brothers only—Bartholomew and Giacomo, or James (written Diego in Spanish)." Giovanni Pellegrino was the second brother, and died unmarried in 1489. We have more than this proof of his existence. In another document he is named together with his three brothers,—Christopher, Bartholomew, and Giacomo. In 1501, ten years after his death, and some time after that of his father, a man named Corasso Cuneo summoned the sons of Domenico Colombo before the tribunals of Savona for non-payment of the price due to him for lands purchased by their father Domenico many years before his decease. In this curious document we read the names of Christopher and James—"Christophorem et Jacobum, fratres de Columbi, filiis et heredes quondam Dominici eorum patris." In the next register concerning this affair, and dated the same month and year, Bartholomew is mentioned—"Cristoferi, Bartolomei et Jacobi de Columbis, quondam Domenici et ipsius heredem." There is no mention of Bianchinetta, the only sister of the illustrious navigator. She, being a married woman, was not, according to Genoese law, entitled to inherit from her father. Here, then, we have the most positive contemporary evidence that Domenico Colombo was the father of four sons, respectively named Christopher, Giovanni Pellegrino or Pilgrim (a name sometimes found in old English registers), Bartolomeo or Bartholomew, and Giacomo or Diego,—and, therefore, the father of Christopher Columbus, Discoverer of the New World, who, as everybody knows, had two brothers, companions in his travels, named Bartholomew and Giacomo (or Diego). We learn that, according to documents far too numerous to be quoted here, the said Domenico was a taxpaying resident in the Via di Sant Andrea, in the city of Genoa, between the years 1435 and 1470. Another and most important paper, recently discovered by the Marquis Staglieno in the Atti Notarilli of the city of Genoa, declares Christopher Columbus to be nineteen years old in 1470. He was born then, we may presume, in October 1451, during the time of his father's residence in the house now officially declared his birthplace, and situated hard by the noble old Gate of Sant Andrea.
It is a fortunate thing for Italian history that, in accordance with a very ancient custom, on the decease of a notary, his papers and registers are taken charge of by the State, and carefully preserved in an office specially set apart for the purpose. Although the enormous accumulation of papers thus preserved from century to century may, in many instances, be deemed of little importance, they have proved invaluable funds of information for the historian. It was among the papers of the notary Stella that Signor Bertolotti unearthed the particulars of the life and trial of Beatrice Cenci. It was among those of Pietro Belasio and Nicola Raggio that the Marquis Staglieno discovered the following curious facts concerning Columbus:—
"In 1470, on the thirtieth of October, Domenico Colombo and his son Christopher appeared before the above-named notaries of the city of Genoa, in order to confirm and conclude a contract in which the said Christopher Colombo declares himself, with his father's endorsement, debtor to the said Belasio to the amount of Genoese lire 48. 15. 6. (or about 300 francs) for wine procured by him on credit for the supply of his ship, now in the harbour of Genoa. Domenico, his father, holds himself security for his said son, who is nineteen years of age. Christofferus de Colombo filius Domenico Maior anni decemnovum."
And, according to Genoese law, of age.
Columbus tells us in his Autobiography that he went to sea when he was fourteen. Hence, in 1470, he had been five years a sailor, but he had not, as yet, wholly abandoned the paternal roof, to reside permanently in Portugal. He did not do so until six years later. Now, if he went to sea when he was fourteen, and was still at sea when he was nineteen, what time had he for studying at the University of Pavia, where, according to most historians, he acquired his proficiency in Latin, and in such sciences as were then taught? In my opinion, he never was near Pavia in his life. No document in Pavian archives proves that Columbus was a student at that renowned University. The statement rests only on a very slender local tradition, and on Las Casas' assertion that he "completed his studies in Pavia." Possibly this writer made a slip of the pen, and, meaning Patria, wrote Pavia—or did the printer's devil make the blunder? Certainly Columbus' family was not in a position to send him to a distant University, and, moreover, there was no necessity for their so doing, as Genoa possessed famous colleges and schools of her own.
At the bottom of the long, steep street Portorio, not very far from his father's house, was a school, directed by the Servite fathers, whose church, Santa Maria de' Servi, still exists. It strikes me as much more probable that the boy Columbus attended there, and that some learned monk taught him Latin, than that he should have been sent to Pavia, as great a distance from Genoa, in those days, as Paris is now. Moreover, the learned notary Andrea de Cario was a friend and neighbour of the family. This gentleman was well off, and, although married, usually wore an ecclesiastical habit, and acted as the archbishop's Chancellor for close on half a century. Among his papers and registers, still preserved, are several mentions of Domenico Colombo and his wife and her family, the Fontanarosse. Possibly this learned personage may have undertaken a part of the education of the precocious lad.
If further proof were required of the intimate connection which always existed between Domenico Colombo and his illustrious son Christopher, I need simply record the fact that, even when the Great Man was himself in dire distress, he remembered his aged father, and sent him money to relieve his pressing debts. The affection between the three brothers seems to have been extended to certain cousins, for we find, in a document dated 1476, that Giovanni, Matteo, and Amighetto Colombo, of Quinto, signed a deed whereby money was raised to enable the eldest, Giovanni, to go to Spain to serve under his cousin Christopher, who is described as an Admiral. These men were the sons of Antonio, a brother of Domenico.
Not one of the documents I have quoted is particularly interesting in itself. They are very commonplace, and yet how wonderfully they help us to reconstruct the past! A name here, an allusion there, an unpaid bill, a summons before the tribunals on a pressing demand for payment of rent, a receipt, a mere scrap of paper with a great name attached to it, opens out an entirely new field of research, and dispels mountains of controversy and theory. I felt myself in very intimate contact with Columbus when my eyes first rested on the quaint, old-world documents which he, and his father, and mother, and brothers, signed, four hundred years ago.
Quite recently, three papers, enriched with the signatures of Columbus and his father, were unearthed in the State archives of the city of Genoa (L'Archivio di Stato). From them we gather that, in 1470, Domenico Colombo, either because his affairs were going badly, or because he perceived a better chance for himself and family elsewhere, determined to leave Genoa and establish himself in Savona. He was then in the debt of a certain Geronimo da Porto, to the amount of 25 lire, or 117 francs modern money, and evidently could not pay him. Da Porto must have heard of his intention to leave the city. He summoned him and his eldest son Christopher before the tribunal, for non-payment of the debt in question. The judge decided that Domenico and Christopher Colombo should pay the amount within a year from that date. Whether they eventually paid or not is doubtful, for, in a codicil to Columbus' will, made some thirty years later, he leaves "to the heirs of Geronimo da Porto, of Genoa, the father of Benito da Porto, 20 ducats"—which is nearly double the amount originally claimed, and leads one to think that it includes interest for a long period.
In these documents, Domenico Colombo is invariably described as "Dominicus Columbus, lanerius de Janua, habitator in Saone,"—"a wool-weaver, living in Savona." In addition to the evidence already given that Columbus was born in Genoa, I will recall the facts that he himself, three times in his biography, repeats that he was a native of that town—"where I lived, and whence I came"—and that Andreo Bemaldez, curate of Los Pallacios, who was his intimate friend, informs us that he told him he was born in Genoa. His contemporaries, Agostino Giustinani, Antonio de Herrera, and Antonio Gallo, the Chancellor of the Bank of St George, who corresponded with Columbus, repeat the same assertion. Then, again, it is to the city of Genoa that the dying Columbus leaves the breviary given him by Pope Alexander VI. Where is it? Certainly not in Genoa.
Genoa in 1451 presented an aspect different from that which it wears now, although the street in which Columbus was born, and its neighbourhood, have not sustained many changes. The ancient houses still tower up six and eight stories on either side of the narrow and picturesque thoroughfare of the Portorio, some of them preserving traces of Gothic windows and doors, and of a sort of Moorish decoration, running just below the projecting roof, which is peculiar to Genoa. This street has been known as the Portorio, or Porta Aurea, for centuries. It leads up the hill from the outer wall of the city, and the characteristic church of San Stefano, with its black and white marble façade, which gives its name to the suburb, to the inner gate of St Andrea, and the second ring of walls, now destroyed. This gate is a noble specimen of feudal architecture, recently somewhat over-restored. A few years ago it was ten times more picturesque than now, with the quaint, old houses clinging to its rough walls like barnacles on a ship's side. These have been removed, and the grand proportions of the arch, formerly attached on either side to stern and lofty walls, built in 1155 to resist the attacks of Barbarossa, have been displayed. In front of this ancient gate is a little platform, surrounded by tall and irregular houses, coeval with the gate itself. No. 37, lately occupied by a tinman, is the house in which Columbus was born, and spent his childhood and youth. I believe, with Mr Harrisse and the Marquis Staglieno, that he was born in the front room—the best bedroom—of the first floor, between October 1446 and October 1451. The date must remain uncertain, because, although the important paper I have mentioned described him as being nineteen years of age in 1470, it must be remembered that nineteen was the legal age of manhood under the old Genoese law, which was identical with the ancient Roman code. The fact that he was of age—that is nineteen—would never have been specified, if he had not been a very young man at the time. He might perhaps have been twenty-three or even twenty-four, but the probability is that he had just come of age. In 1886 the Municipality of Genoa purchased this house for 36,000 francs, and it is to be kept intact in memory of Columbus for ever. Over the door is this inscription:—
Nulla. Domus. titulo, dignior
Heic
Paternis : in : ædibus.
Christophorus : Columbus.
Pueritium
Primioque . juvantam . trasegit.
I think, with Mr Harrisse, that "Forsam natus" might with propriety be added.
The great Gothic arch of the stern old gate frowned down on the modest dwelling, and the child Columbus must often have been told the story of the chains, which in my own boyhood I remember to have seen, hanging on the grim walls on either side of the arch. They were courteously restored in 1862 to the Pisans (from whom they had been captured in 1290) in honour of Italian unity.
Not very far off stood, until quite the end of the last century, a curious old house, with a figure of St Christopher painted upon it, which doubtless had a lamp constantly burning before it. Possibly it was in honour of the saint here represented that the future Discoverer of the New World was christened Christopher. On entering the city proper, through the arch of St Andrea, the prospect, in the days of Columbus' youth, was by no means cheerful. The houses, like those of Edinburgh, rose seven and even eleven storeys, making the narrow courts and passage-like streets look not unlike dark openings in a Californian cañon. The hilly position of the town, however, lent itself admirably to picturesque effects, and the brilliance of the deep blue sky above, and of the broad streaks of sunlight falling on the squares and little piazza, brightened what might otherwise have been exceedingly gloomy and depressing. The palaces of the nobility looked more like fortresses than civic residences, with scarcely a window on the street. Each possessed a tall, turreted watch-tower of red brick, picked out with marble, the finest specimen of which, now existing, is that of the Imbriaci. The churches and oratories were amazingly numerous, but they were nearly all exactly alike, built in very plain Gothic architecture, with façades streaked with alternated layers of black and white marble. A few have escaped the vandalistic restorations of the 17th and 18th centuries, and of these the best remaining specimens are the Cathedral, San Matteo Doria, Santa Maria del 'Orto (desecrated), San Cosmo, San Donate, San Stefano, and Sant Agostino (desecrated).
But in the 15th century they were to be met with at every turn of the street, giving a very peculiar appearance to the city. The finest palaces bordered the Ripa by the port, and these were so beautifully decorated with frescoes and gilding that Petrarch declared that "nothing could be imagined more magnificent." The Strade Nuova, Nuovissima, and Balbi, with their splendid Renaissance palaces, did not come into existence until late in the 16th and 17th centuries. The Cathedral was in much the same condition as at present, and the Bank of St George, now in process of restoration, was considered one of the wonders of the world.
If the architecture of the city was picturesque, its population was indescribably so. The streets teemed with life and colour. There were men in armour, sailors from all parts of the world, guardsmen in the Doge's liveries striped scarlet and white, ladies of rank proceeding to church attended by their women, and escorted by little negro pages bearing their trains, or screening them from the ardour of the sun with immense, crimson silk parasols. Rich dames, lolling in litters hung with painted Cordova leather, were carried to and fro on the shoulders of stalwart African slaves. Veiled women of the people, with their children clinging round them, sitting outside their doors, not infrequently engaged in a hair hunt. Priests, monks, and nuns, in every imaginable kind of ecclesiastical costume, mingled with herculean porters from the quays, with soldiers and nobles, Levantines and Jews, each in their own peculiar costume, so that if the houses were sombre, the streets were ablaze with brilliant and varied dresses. At night, however, the city looked desolate. Only the lamps burning before the images of the Madonna and Saints lit up the gloomy thoroughfares and darksome piazzas. At "Ave Maria," in winter time, everybody was indoors saying the Rosary. Three times a day, as the "Angelus" tolled, the whole population stopped and repeated the angelic salutation. This pious custom lasted until quite late into the first half of the present century.
Unlike Venice, Genoa was no city of pleasure. On the other hand, its population dearly loved pageantry. Religious processions of the utmost splendour were of such everyday occurrence that people scarcely noticed them. The Doge went about attended by at least a hundred officers and servants. On great festivals the balconies were hung with brocades and wreaths of fresh flowers, while half the town preceded the Host or the images of the Madonna and Saints, to the admiration of the other half, crowding the sidewalks and the overhanging balconies.
Such, then, was Genoa,—Queen of the Mediterranean, as Venice was Queen of the Adriatic,—when Christopher Columbus first saw the light. His parents were, as we have seen, people in a humble but eminently respectable position. Their manner of life differed little from that of their neighbours. Thus was passed, only fifty years ago, the life of an honest Genoese family of the lower middle class. At five in the morning the family, apprentices, and servants rose. After saying the "Angelus," they proceeded to the nearest church to Mass. A slice of bread, with fruit in summer, or dried figs in winter, and a glass of wine, formed the first meal or breakfast. Then came work until noon, when the frugal dinner was served—meat once a week, and sweets only on great festivals. As a rule, it consisted of a minestrone, a succulent and wholesome sort of soup, made with all kinds of vegetables, rice, and bits of pork cut up into square pieces, macaroni, ravioli, and other like dishes. After this meal there was an hour for recreation. Then to work again until sunset, when the whole household repeated the "Angelus," and said the Rosary. In summer they would go processionally from street image to image, singing their Aves and Paters with uncommon unction before the holy figure, round which burned scores of little oil lamps, amid cart-wheel-shaped bouquets. Sometimes one-half the people on the street said the Rosary, while the other gave the responses. It is not surprising if, after a regime of this sort, Christopher Columbus grew up to be a very pious man. However, there were plenty of scandals going the round of the town, even in 1451, and I am afraid religiosity rather than piety was the true characteristic of this singular population. Still, the evidence in favour of Columbus and his family is so greatly to their advantage that we may feel sure they were really people of exceptional integrity and sincere piety.
Little Genoese boys and girls were brought up rather sternly, and the ferrula was much in use. Often, no doubt, did the small Columbus, both at home and at school, hold out his chubby hand to receive the strokes. The mother and sister appeared in public very rarely, and were invariably veiled. The church was the principal object of these excellent people's existence. It is so to this day with a majority of the lower and middle-class Genoese, who spend half their time in church, and are quite as well pleased to go and hear a sermon as their neighbours at Turin are to attend a new play. I am quite sure that more than once a year the infant Columbus and his brothers, dressed up as saints, and very artistically too, walked in the processions of the three or four confraternities attached to the church and convent of St Stefano. I daresay Christopher often impersonated the infant St John, or even the Child Jesus, and was carried on the shoulders of some gigantic brother disguised as St Christopher:
| "San Cristofero grosso, |
| Porta il mondo a dorso." |
—"the big St Christopher carries the world on his back."
In Holy Week, what a time these pious folks had, to be sure! There was so much to see that people were fain to leave their business to take care of itself, and either to walk in the processions or else watch them wend their way along the tortuous streets. There were the flagellants to see, who whipped themselves until their bare backs were red. As to the Guilds and Corporations: they were a source of infinite interest and excitement! Each had its Cassaccia or shrine to carry, and, above all, its tremendous crucifix, which people wagered would never reach its destination, so terrific was its weight. If the wretched man who carried it staggered and fell, hundreds of lire changed hands, and if he managed to restore it to its place in the Oratory belonging to the Guild, he was acclaimed as great a hero as a victorious modern jockey. And the Sepulchres on Holy Thursday, and the Procession of the Passion on Good Friday, all these wonderful things, and many others too numerous to describe, did the youthful Columbus admire, enjoy, and venerate,[21] we may be sure.
The boy Columbus had his sports, too, like any other lad in every part of the world, old and new. He played boccie or bowls, and palla, a sort of football, and, like all other Genoese urchins, he was, I doubt not, an excellent diver and swimmer. His character in after life, so full of noble courage, gentleness, piety, and justice, speaks volumes for the education he received at his mother's knee. His devotion to parents is proved by his frequent mention of them, and he loved the beautiful city "where he was born, and whence he came" with patriotic ardour.
Although there is no positive proof that such was the case, we may safely conclude that, together with all the Genoese of his period, he was imbued from the earliest age with a love of the sea and of adventure. In the gloom of his father's cavernous shop he must often have heard foreign and native merchants, captains, and sailors, who came to purchase woollen goods, relate tales of extraordinary discoveries made in the unknown seas beyond the Pillars of Hercules. Vast, indeed, was the commerce of Genoa at this epoch. Her vessels roamed the seas as far as the Caspian, where Marco Polo found them trading from port to port. Genoa rivalled Venice in the Levant, and held the keys of the commerce of North Africa. In Bruges her merchants had a hall of their own; it still exists, with the effigy of St George over its Gothic portal. Genoese merchants were well known in the crowded thoroughfares of London city, and their velvets and silks were to be bought in the High Street of Edinburgh and in the markets of Copenhagen and Christiania.
In the last half of the 15th century the world talked much of discoveries of magic isles of pearl, and of deceptive islands that rose on the horizon of the Atlantic, and, syren-like, deluded venturesome travellers to their doom. In Genoa lived the Vivaldi family, descendants of Vadino and Guido Vivaldi, and of Ugolino and Tedesco Vivaldi, who, between 1285 and 1290, discovered not only the Azores, but also Madeira and the Canaries. The fact is mentioned very minutely in records of the 13th century. Often must Columbus have heard of these bold pioneers, and likewise of the ship and its crew of thirty men, which, in 1467,—as we learn from Pietro d'Abano, in his Conciliatore,—the Genoese Government equipped in Lisbon, at its expense, and sent on a mission of discovery, from whence none ever returned. Sailors, whose frail vessels had been driven out to sea far beyond the coast of Spain towards "the new lands," had doubtless seen the Azores, and, returning home, had spread the most fantastic stories of cities of gold inhabited by a people whose heads grew beneath their shoulders. In short, the imaginative child must often have listened to tales of wonderment such as Othello poured out to Desdemona. At fourteen he went to sea. He was in the prime of his glorious manhood on that momentous morn of October 1492, when the verdant islands of San Salvador and Cuba rose like emeralds out of the shining sea to delight his thankful vision, and enriched European civilization by opening the gates of a New World before its wondering eyes.[22]
IN 1886-7 the writer of these lines became closely connected with the West Indian Section of the Indian and Colonial Exhibition, South Kensington. Sir Augustus Adderley, the Commissioner for the West Indies, a gentleman of varied knowledge and experience, displayed an activity in organising the Court for which he was responsible, which resulted in a thorough and most satisfactory representation of the various West Indian islands under British dominion. To add attraction to his Department, Sir Augustus set himself to collect every historical document, book, print, and MS., illustrative of the early history of the islands, which he could procure. With this object, he entrusted the author with the mission of obtaining whatever records of Columbus and his companions existed in Rome and elsewhere, even in the Antilles. Thanks to letters from Cardinal Manning, an interview with Cardinal Simeone, then Director of the Sacred Congregation of the Propaganda, was soon obtained, and his introduction to the Secretary, Archbishop Jacobini, granted, in the most friendly manner. A minute search of the archives of this famous institution was immediately made, but nothing of any particular importance connected with the subject of enquiry was found to exist. Monsignore Jacobini, however, averred that he had heard a story to the effect that in Napoleon I.'s time, the archives of the Propaganda were roughly packed in carts, conveyed to Cività Vecchia, and there embarked for France and Paris. Whilst passing through the streets of Rome, several bundles of most valuable papers were jolted out, picked up, and some—but very few—restored to the Congregation. Of the rest, only a part were returned to the College, whilst almost all the earlier papers were retained in Paris, and are now stored in the Bibliothèque Nationale and elsewhere. The existing archives of the Propaganda only date from the first half of the present century. It was found impossible to obtain permission for the exhibition of many treasures among the Vatican MSS.—which, seen through glass cases, would have hardly, indeed, produced the effect they deserved. All my attention, therefore, was turned to the small but most interesting collection of parchments and MSS. in the Borgian Museum. Pre-eminent among these are the far-famed Borgian Maps, the first of which is probably the earliest existing geographical record of Central America and the West Indies. Down this famous sheet Pope Alexander VI.'s own hand traced the lines dividing the whole of the New World into two equal portions, one for Spain, the other for Portugal. Notwithstanding his evident desire to oblige the Commissioner and the Committee, His Holiness decided that so precious and historical a relic could not be allowed to leave its place, but he courteously gave permission for the removal to the London Exhibition of the second Borgian Map, known as "Diego Ribero," a document of the highest archæological value. The drawing, perfect and beautiful, was executed by Diego Ribero, geographer to Charles V. from 1494 to 1529, that is, during the lifetime of Columbus, and under his personal supervision. Down the centre pass two slight lines, facsimile of the divisional lines traced by Alexander VI. on the first Borgian Map. The map, though singularly clearly drawn, is full of absurd inaccuracies. The West Indies are shown with precision, and the names given with considerable elaboration. America, on the other hand, is barely indicated, the coast alone being defined, and Africa is introduced with the Nile wandering somewhat at random down to three lakes, situated just above what is now known as Cape Colony. A number of very well-drawn ships are introduced, of colossal dimensions, in comparison with the land, and bearing inscriptions to the effect that they are either bound for, or returning from, the "Maluccas," by which it would appear that these were then considered the principal maritime port of the world. The arms of Pope Julius II.—an oak-tree with twisted branches—are introduced in a shield at the foot, notwithstanding the fact that the map bears the date of Clement VII. As a specimen of Italian, or rather Spanish, calligraphy, of the 16th century, it is superb, and in most perfect preservation. The Congregation of the Propaganda also lent an engraved reproduction of the famous Marco Polo Map, a curious specimen of German geographical lore, at the commencement of the 15th century, the original of which is engraved on brass. It was found to be far too heavy for transportation. In this map the world is reproduced surrounded by water, and the general appearance is not unlike that of a drop of Thames water as seen through a powerful microscope, so confused are the earth and water, and so mixed up with representations of extraordinary living creatures.
A very interesting collection of books, maps, prints, and MSS., illustrative of the early history of the West Indies, belonging to Sir Graham Briggs, Mr Audley C. Miles, Mr Henry Stevens, and the writer, were also exhibited, and the following notes on this improvised library, which will certainly never be gathered together again, will doubtless be found of interest, as throwing considerable light on the bygone domestic history of our colonies in the Antilles.
In the eighteenth century their prosperity was at its height, and a surprising amount of luxury and magnificence existed in the capitals of each of our settlements. In 1741, we find the Island of Montserrat considerably exercised (The Laws of Montserrat from 1640 to 1788) by many open "Breaches of the Sabbath," a general neglect of "Public Worship," to the scandalizing of the Protestant religion, and by the encroachments of the "Scarlet Whore of Rome." To remedy this state of affairs, the rites and ceremonies of the Church are, according to the authority mentioned above, to be immediately placed on a footing with those practised in England, and "an able preaching minister is to be maintained, at a cost to the public exchequer of 14,000 lbs. of sugar per annum, or the value thereof in tobacco, cotton, wool, or indigo. Moreover, the said minister can demand not exceeding 100 lbs. of sugar, or the value thereof as above, for the joining together any of the inhabitants of this island in the holy and lawful state of matrimony." Meanwhile, Trinidad and Cuba, on the other hand, were gravely occupied by the question of Protestant encroachments. These islands were still Spanish, and the Inquisition was in full swing, occasionally roasting an unhappy wight suspected of heresy or idolatry.
"The Laws of Montserrat" enlighten us as to the manner in which the negroes were treated in some of the islands. Thus, in 1670, an Act was passed forbidding the negro to enter any plantation save his master's after nightfall, and should any be found, the owner or overseer of such plantation was given full power to punish him as he chose. "And should any negroes harbour or conceal any such loiterers in their cabins, they shall be taken before the next Justice of the Peace, and there his or her owner shall, in the presence of the said Justice, exercise the punishment of forty lashes."
Slaves were not permitted to enter a field of cane with any lights or fire whatsoever, as, "by their insufferable boldness in so doing, much damage has been done, and more is likely to ensue, and this is enacted to prevent future inconvenience, which may happen by such insufferable boldness."
Should a slave, transgressing this law, happen to set fire to the canes, he or she "shall not only be whipped, but, if it pleases their master, be put to death in any fashion he shall devise." If a negro stole a cow or any other head of cattle, he was to be brought before the next Justice of the Peace and publicly whipped. This punishment did not appear to have been sufficiently severe, for by the year 1693, theft had grown so common that an Act was passed ordaining that "henceforth any negro that shall be taken stealing or carrying away stock, cattle, or provisions, amounting to the value of twelve pence, shall suffer such death as his master shall think fit to award." If a negro was proved guilty of a theft below the value of twelve pence current money of the island, "he shall only suffer a severe whipping, and have both his ears cut off for the first offence, but for the second offence he shall suffer death in the form aforesaid ... and it shall be lawful to shoot at, and if possible, kill any negro he shall find stealing his provision, provided such provision be not within forty foot of the common path, and that the party so killing hath not expressed hatred or malice against the owner of such negro." The white servants might, it appears, "be kicked, but not whipped," otherwise they were treated very little better than the slaves. Negroes caught without tickets authorising their absence from their own plantation, are to be whipped with thirty-nine lashes by the constable who took them, for which service, "in each case he receives six shillings." Should a slave absent himself for the space of three months from his master's service, he was to suffer death as a felon, the owner to be allowed 3500 lbs. of sugar, out of the public stock, in compensation. Should a slave be killed or maimed by another man's slave, his owner had his choice of the manner of the offender's death for the first-named offence, and for the second he could decide whether he should be whipped, or the offence be atoned by compensation. From the Acts and Statutes of Barbados (1652), we find that the maker of a fraudulent and deceitful sale on that island of any "servant, cattel, negroes, and other flock or commodities, shall suffer six months' imprisonment, and stand in the Pillory two hours with his ears nailed thereto, with a paper in his hat, signifying the cause of his punishment ... and whosoever shall be convicted of carrying away any goods whatsoever after the same have been legally attached, shall be sent to prison during fourteen days, and if before the fourteenth day he have not made satisfaction to his Creditor, he shall be put in the Pillory and lose both his ears."
To turn to pleasanter things, we learn (from A Short History of Barbadoes, published in 1742) that nothing can exceed the splendour of the planters' manner of life. They have as fine houses as any in England, and are attended upon by regiments of negroes, and white servants in gorgeous liveries. "Their plate and their china, their fine gowns and their genteel manners, eclipse anything that the writer has ever seen on his travels, and their hospitality cannot be imagined—an hospitality for which Great Britain was once so deservedly famed." At the time when England was divided into two factions, Cavaliers and Roundheads, the planters, though naturally favouring one side or the other, made a law amongst themselves, forbidding the use of either of the two words, on penalty of giving a dinner to their neighbours. Many purposely made themselves liable to the penalty as a pretext for entertaining their friends. In those good old times, the Governors, notably those of Jamaica and Barbadoes, kept great state. When they went to church, they were preceded by pages in silver and gold liveries, and gorgeous officers—in fact, the splendour displayed recalled that of the King himself, when he betook himself in State to St Paul's. A good deal of jealousy was evinced, at times, between the citizens, as to who was entitled to attend the Governor's entertainments. The scene round Government House in James Street, Spanish Town on great ball nights, must have been of the most picturesque description. The ladies arrived in their Sedan-chairs, accompanied by armies of slaves, carrying torches. There must have been some great beauties amongst them, for we find the author of Letters from Barbadoes deeply impressed with "the majestic beauty of Miss Dolton," "the divine Miss Gordon," "the celestial Miss Alleyne," while, he declares,
| "Sisters Carter, as two meteors bright, |
| Shine glorious round, and diffuse light." |
Balls and parties, routs and dinners, suppers and theatres, occupied the attention of the West Indian ladies to an extent which would have amazed their descendants.
The advertisements in the Colonial papers of the last century teem with offers of "brocaded silk and satins, beaver hats, gold-headed canes, snuff-boxes, costly china, plate, and patch-boxes," which were imported on board every vessel, and found a ready sale amongst the luxury-loving inhabitants. No wonder that occasionally, as we learn from the Groans of the Plantation, the islanders fell into pecuniary embarrassment, and that money grew so scarce that large cargoes of negroes had to be exported for sale at Charlestown and New Orleans.
The streets of a West Indian city must have presented a very picturesque spectacle at this period. Here groups of great ladies—in hoops and sarsenets, with powdered hair and "patches," escorted by their spruce cavaliers in the daintiest satin garments which the London or Paris tailors could supply, their white clad servants at a respectful distance behind them, carrying their parasols and fans, or lagging in the rear with their heavily gilt Sedan-chairs—pass up and down under the shadow of the tropical vegetation, hardly pausing, probably, to notice the public flogging of a couple of runaway slaves, or the edifying spectacle of a white servant caught in the act of stealing, seated with his legs and arms in the pillory, and his nose and ears freshly cut off. Yon learned-looking gentleman may be Dr Hans Sloane, the famous naturalist, with his friend Dr Burton, a noted preacher, who occasionally goes the round of the various islands to exercise his eloquence, and eat a series of good dinners in return for his pious endeavours to save the souls of his entertainers. The conversation is not of the most elevated description. Little or no literature is consumed and canvassed, save such as comes out in packages from England—The Gentleman's Magazine, The Lady, The Tatler, Miss Frances Burney's latest novel, Oliver Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield, or Fielding's Tom Jones. Through the open windows of the roomy houses, with their broad verandahs, floats the tinkling of the sempiternal spinette. Very occasionally, as we learn from the Grenada Gazette (of which a complete file for the years 1792-3 are exhibited by Mr. J. G. Wells), "a grand pianoforte" makes its appearance, and is considered a great novelty, for which a very high price is asked and paid.
The History of the Barbadoes states that Lord Howe became Governor in 1733, but fortunately for the Colony, he did not hold the office long, "for if he had remained a few years longer, he would have ruined Barbadoes by his introduction of luxury."
In every island, perpetual war was waged between the Governor and the people, and the people seem to have had good cause to protest, for almost without exception, it would appear, the Governors sent from the mother country were most tyrannical and cruel in their methods. This is proved by the continual protests and "Articles of Complaint" that were forwarded to England. Many of these temporary rulers seem to have conceived their sole mission to be to extort money for their own private pockets by every means in their power, legal or illegal. To rule the country fairly, and to keep it in a settled condition—a by no means easy matter in those times—appears to have been quite a secondary matter in their eyes. A notable instance is that of a Mr Lowther, who carried on the usual routine of extortion. He was sent out to Barbadoes in 1711, and in justice to others it must be said, that for downright wickedness, he far outstripped them. He "swallowed up the taxes as fast as they were raised, ships forced on the island by stress of weather were compelled to give him one half of their cargo to save the other; he seized rich ships without cause; and he suspended Mr Skeen, the Secretary, because he refused to allow him a pension of £400 per annum out of the fees in office. He kept a cause of Haggot v. King hanging up in Chancery all the time he was Governor, only because Mr Haggot would not consent to the marriage of a young lady under his guardianship to a person to whom Mr Lowther owned he had sold her for £15,000. Again, in order to accomplish his bargain, he was about taking her from Mr Haggot when she was married, and he did actually despoil him of the guardianship of her sister, declaring that no parent had a right to appoint a guardian to his child." When officially remonstrated with for some of his iniquities, Mr Lowther simply replied, "D—— n your laws, don't tell me of the laws. I will do it, and let me see who dares dispute it." Again, the Governor of the Bahamas in 1701-2—Mr Elias Haskett—was, we are informed, such an iniquitous personage, that "he seizes all the claret and brandy imported into our own port for his own use, and most unmercifully doth whip the parish beadle (this is enough, surely, to make the late Mr Bumble turn in his grave) and the tax collector." This gentleman's evil doings are related in a curious MSS. document of over twelve closely-printed pages, by one Captain Cole, who, it appears, was deputed, on his return to England, by the people of New Providence, to make an official complaint of their Governor.
A rare old pamphlet on the State of Jamaica, published early in the last century, contains a curious account of the arrival in that island, in 1687, of Christopher, Duke of Albemarle, on his appointment to the Governorship. He was the only son and heir of John Monk, who had helped to restore Charles II., and who had been rewarded with a dukedom, the Garter, and a princely fortune, which his successor completely dissipated, and reduced himself to beggary. To rid himself of his importunities, King James II. gave him the above-mentioned position in Jamaica, where he died, childless, soon after his arrival, and his honours became extinct. He seems, however, to have lived long enough to collect a considerable sum of money for his creditors. He entered into partnership with a Sir William Phipps, who, having discovered the wreck of a Spanish plate-ship, which had gone down in 1559, provided skilful divers to search for the sunken treasure, and the partners are reported to have recovered twenty-six tons of silver. When Albemarle arrived at Kingston, he behaved in a fashion as arbitrary as it was whimsical. He immediately called an assembly, which he dissolved as promptly, because one of the members, in a debate, repeated the adage "Salus Populi suprema lex." His Grace took this member into custody, and caused him to be fined 600 crowns for his offence. Evidently James II. had entertained some hope of converting the island of Jamaica to the Roman Catholic faith, for with Albemarle he sent out a missionary,—Father Thomas Churchill, but the Duke's death and the Revolution of 1688 upset the good Father's projects, and, after visiting Cuba, he returned to England. The Duchess, who accompanied her husband, was a very remarkable woman, and an exceedingly handsome one. The speaker of the assembly, in his first address, expatiated upon her presence in the following extraordinary strain of eloquence: "It is an honour," said he, "which the opulent Kingdoms of Mexico or Peru could never arrive at, to be visited by an English Duchess, and even Columbus' ghost would be appeased, could he but know that his own beloved soil was hallowed by such footsteps." In a very old private letter, included among the exhibits, was a singular account of the subsequent career of this Duchess. It seems that on the death of the Duke, she possessed herself of all the treasures he had rescued from the Spanish plate-ship, and refusing to part with a shilling, even to pay his legitimate debts, prepared to embark for England. But the creditors seized her person in the King's house, in Spanish Town, and attempted to carry her off. She contrived, however, to escape, and communicated her distress to the House of Assembly, who thereupon appointed a formidable committee of their ablest members to guard her day and night. After some delay, she was safely embarked for England, on one of the King's ships, and arrived in this country with all her fortune, on board the "Assistance" man-of-war, in the beginning of June 1688. For a year or so she made a great show in London society, gave her friends sumptuous entertainments, and herself, it would seem, incredible airs. At last the poor lady's mind gave way. She imagined herself destined to become the wife of the Emperor of China, who, having heard of her immense wealth, was hastening, she declared, to come to England, and pay her his addresses. She dwelt in Montague House, on the site of which the British Museum now stands, and she furnished the mansion sumptuously for the reception of her august suitor. She appears to have been a gentle and good-humoured person, even in her lunacy, and her attendants encouraged her in her delusions. They did more. They tried to turn her folly to good account by assisting a certain needy peer, the Duke of Montague, to personate his Chinese Majesty. "Here," continues the letter, "is the prettiest piece of business that has ever been. My Lord of Montague, disguised as the Chinese Emperor, has won the hand of that worthy, silly old woman the Duchess of Albemarle, and will, doubtless, soon confine her as a lunatic." She certainly was carefully enough guarded, but she seems to have been allowed to indulge her mania to her heart's content. She was wont to stride about her vast apartments, attired as a Chinese Empress, her attendants taking good care to kneel as she passed, and to address her in language befitting so transcendant a personage as the consort of the supreme ruler of the celestial Empire. Her Grace the Duchess of Albemarle and Empress of China survived her husband, the pretended Emperor, for many years, and died in 1734, at the vast age of ninety-eight. She was, it seems, served upon the knee to the end of her long career, and expired in the full belief that she was a Celestial Empress.
The Grenada Gazette, a curious old newspaper to which I have already alluded, throws considerable light on the manners and customs of the period between 1792 and 1799. The details of the French Revolution are recorded with great minuteness, and it was evidently a subject of deep interest to the Gazette's numerous readers. The editor can scarcely contain his indignation as he relates the sufferings of the unfortunate French king and queen, and he feels sure God will punish the French people "for their barbarity and utter godlessness." He is certain a judgment will fall upon them "for their iniquitous conduct, their cruelty, and their general viciousness." "Oh!" he exclaims, "I have scarce the power to tell the terrible news of this day: the French king and queen are in prison. The French, by their own madness and folly, have thereby prepared themselves and their heirs for the bitterest punishment of God." When at length he reaches the execution of Marie Antoinette, he is "prostrate with horror, and dumb with fear." He can no longer proceed: "his pen is dry from sheer terror, and refuses to write." The poor gentleman is "thrown into a consternation" as he thinks of the fate in store for the afflicted little Dauphin. The series of slave advertisements which disgrace every number of the Chronicle are curious in their way. Thus the cargo of the ship "Ellen," consisting of 203 Gold Coast negroes, and that of another ship containing 343 young slaves, are both offered for sale. "Both cargoes are in high health, and the terms of sale will be made as agreeable as possible to the purchaser." An estate in St Lucia, placed on the market, comprises amongst its stock "250 negroes, large and small, and six horses and five mules." "There are among the negroes twenty tradesmen of great value." One person wants "a complete washerwoman. Anyone having one to dispose of may hear of a purchaser." There are many advertisements for the recovery of runaway slaves, "for whom a genteel reward will be offered," to be recognized by their backs, still sore from recent whippings, their cropped ears and split noses. These horrors seem to make no impression on the editor—the humane gentleman who so deplores the imprisonment of the French royal couple. He is not ashamed to advertise "a pretty boy, nearly white, for sale, price, £20," nor to call attention to Madame Marchand's announcement that she is about to leave the colony, and wishes to dispose of her stock-in-trade, consisting of "hardware, haberdashery, dry goods, a complete collection of the works of the best French authors, an excellent washerwoman, and two bedsteads." However, men should be judged, to some extent at all events, according to their lights, and it must be remembered that although, in the year of grace 1792, slavery was held throughout the West Indies to be a right divine, the papers above alluded to contained constant appeals to slave-owners to treat their human property with kindness. And perhaps, after all, the bulk of the negroes were a good deal happier than many free men are to-day, for plenty of kindness was shown them. They were allowed three wives—many, perhaps, will think this was no very kind concession—and we read of parties given to the negroes, at which servants dressed up in their mistresses' finery, and danced to a most unreasonable hour of the night, to the sound of the sackbut and the tabor. I exhibited in the St Vincent Court of the Exhibition a delightful series of old engravings, representing negro festivities in the olden times. The darkies had all Sunday to themselves, and raised pandemonium in the principal streets of Spanish Town and Nassau, until the nuisance grew unendurable, and was put down. They used to sing, dance, and wrestle, at which last exercise they "were marvellously expert," to their hearts' content. When their behaviour in the streets became unbearable, they were prohibited from singing or dancing in the vicinity of churches or genteel folks' houses. Their food was good, and their huts were waterproof, at all events,—for it was to the interest of the owners, of course, to keep their slaves in perfect health. Nevertheless, the negroes always felt themselves an oppressed race, and many were their struggles for freedom. They concocted various plans for a general rising, which was to make them masters and the Christians slaves. But the plots were always discovered, and the ring-leaders tortured and put to death, as an example to the rest. At one time owners had great difficulty in preventing their slaves from hanging themselves, either out of fear of possible punishment for some small fault, or dread of vengeance threatened by masters or overseers. Consequently no owner ever delayed a punishment. The darkies all had a firm belief in a resurrection, and were convinced they would return after death to their own country and begin their lives anew. This conviction led them to endeavour to expedite their release from slavery. An owner who had lost several useful slaves in this manner, "caused one of their heads to be cut off and fixed on a pole 12 feet high, and obliged all his slaves to come forth and march round this head, to show the poor creatures that they were in error in thinking the dead returned to their own country, for this man's head was here, as they all plainly saw, and how was it possible the body could go without the head?" This simple theory was quite sufficient to convince them, and thenceforth that owner never lost another slave by suicide.