Barbadoes, Feb.
We have made another very delightful excursion, and find this little
island more interesting and picturesque than my pen can tell you. Being
invited to form a party to the plantation of Col. Williams, and to go
early, in order that we might extend our ride to some of the most
beautiful spots of the island, before dinner, Drs. Cleghorn, and Master,
and myself rose in time to leave the ship at 5 o’clock. On arriving at
Bridge-town we found slaves, horses, and all the requisites of the
expedition, provided by the friendly attention of Mr. B. Hinde, under
whose guidance we placed ourselves for the journey.
We went to the house of his brother before breakfast, where the table
was spread, and the doctor waiting to receive us, prepared to join the
party; as was also Mr. Abel Hinde, another of his brothers. After amply
satisfying our morning appetites, we proceeded towards Col. Williams’s,
which is some miles further. The sun had become more powerful than we
had felt it on our way from Bridge-town to the doctor’s; but we
gradually ascended to higher land, and coming into a mountainous part of
the country, the breeze was sufficiently strong to prevent all sense of
languor or oppression.
A little before we reached the abode of Col. Williams, we passed through
a field where a large gang of negroes was employed in cutting canes.
This proved a seasonable refreshment to us, for we had grown thirsty,
and were glad to adopt the Barbadoes custom of giving our whips to the
slaves, and taking sugar-canes to ride with; sucking one end to quench
our thirst, while we beat on our horses with the other.
Thus equipped, we presently arrived at the dwelling of the owner of the
canes. He greeted us very cordially, invited us to alight, and,
perceiving that some of us were strangers, conducted us to the
buildings, to show us the process of making the sugar. While looking at
the works, we were joined by Col. Williams, who had come thus far to
meet us. Our party being now complete, we proceeded to a most romantic
and beautiful part of the island, called Scotland.
Near Bridge-town we observed that the soil was of rich black earth, but
not of great depth, being in many places only thinly spread upon
calcareous rocks, which are formed mostly of madripores. Further in the
country the earth is of a reddish colour, and evidently argillaceous.
This is broken, by cultivation, into fine mould; and the soil is deeper,
though less rich, than that near to the town.
In some divisions of the part of the country called Scotland the land is
white; and pieces of earth have, here, been found so hardened as to bear
the knife or chisel: it has been possible also to mark, or write with
them, as with chalk; and hence one spot has been denominated
Chalkestate: but the name is founded in error, for the soil is not
calcareous: it is argillaceous, and being hardened by the evaporation of
its aqueous parts, the earth is rendered white by exposure to the
weather. The district of Scotland comprehends the whole of the parish of
St. Andrew, and part of two other parishes; the tutelar saint
contributing in larger proportion than both the others.
This part of the island is uncommonly picturesque, and comprehends a
very grand and interesting variety of scenery. With the stupendous
irregularity and dark shades of the Alps, and the romantic wildness of
the mountains of Wales, it combines the gentle but lively variety of the
soft and flowing surface of England: and in addition to these, it offers
extensive views of the encircling ocean, the shipping both at sea and in
the harbour, and all the luxuriance of the fine tropical vegetation.
The particular spot from whence this part of the island appears to have
derived its name, is raised in rugged cliffs, and broken uncultivated
summits, forming a rude contrast to the high fertility of the vallies,
and the bottoms of the hills. Mountains, yet more lofty than these
barren cliffs, tower around, clothed with rich verdure; and the great
variety of the scene is further increased by the umbrageous foliage and
diversified tints of Turner’s-hall wood; the most extensive, and the
most ancient in the island.
After being long exposed to the scorching sun, in contemplating the many
beauties of this delightful neighbourhood, we passed over rough and
rugged roads, along crooked narrow paths, up steep acclivities, and down
rapid descents, into the deep gloom of the forest; where the change of
scene was no less striking, than the coolness of the temperature was
refreshing and grateful. Literally might these be called _sweet shades_,
for they not only offered the protection we required, but contributed
likewise oranges and lemons to quench our thirst, and further regaled us
with the fragrance of odoriferous shrubs and plants. We, who were
strangers, dwelt on every scene with rapture; and our kind friends, to
whom the whole was familiar, expressed new delight in administering, so
amply, to our gratification.
The cool shelter of the forest was derived from the mountain-cabbage,
from large cedars, and from others of the oldest and finest trees of the
island. Amidst these shades we descended to a narrow gully, between two
mountains, to see one of the great curiosities—one of the reported
wonders of Barbadoes—“a boiling spring!” On approaching the spot, we
came to a small hut, in which was living an elderly black woman, who
employed herself as a guide to exhibit, under a kind of necromantic
process, all the details of this boiling and burning fountain. The old
dame, bearing in her hand a lighted taper, and taking with her an empty
calabash, and all the other necessary apparatus of her office, led the
way from the hut down to the spring. In a still, and most secluded
situation, we came to a hole, or small pit filled with water, which was
bubbling up in boiling motion, and pouring, from its receptacle, down a
narrow channel of the gully. Here our sable sorceress, in the silence
and solemnity of magic, placing the light at her side, fell upon her
knees, and, with her calabash, emptied all the water out of the cavity;
then, immersing the taper in the deep void, she suddenly set the pit in
a flame; when she instantly jumped upon her legs, and looked
significantly round, as if anxious to catch the surprise expressed upon
our countenances, from the workings of her witchcraft. The taper being
removed, the empty space continued to burn with a soft lambent flame,
without the appearance of any thing to support the combustion. We
observed fresh water slowly distilling into the pit, from the earth at
its sides, and dropping to the bottom; and as this increased in
quantity, it raised the flame higher and higher, supporting it upon its
surface, and conveying the appearance of the fluid element being on
fire; although it was very clear and pure, and not spread with any oily
or bituminous matter. When the water had risen to a certain height, the
flame became feeble, then gradually declined, and presently was extinct.
The boiling and bubbling were now seen as before, and, the pit soon
overflowing, the stream resumed its course down the narrow channel of
the gully, when all was restored to the state in which we had found it.
You will have discovered before this, that the water was cold, and that
the boiling and burning of this fiery deep was only the effect of
inflammable gas, which, escaping from the bowels of the earth, and
rising from the bottom, supported the flame when the pit was empty, and,
bubbling through, when it was filled with water, gave it the appearance
of a boiling spring. During the combustion, the smell of the inflammable
air was very powerful.
In the stones and soil, in the very rocks and roads, we traced the
origin of this phænomenon of nature. Asphaltic productions abounded in
every quarter: and, upon inquiry, we found that we were in the part of
the country which produces the celebrated Barbadoes tar; the smell of
which we perceived as we rode along; indeed, we saw it exuding from the
hills of hardened clay, and even from the rocks at the sides of the
road. The argillaceous soil of this neighbourhood is every where
strongly impregnated with bitumen, in which you will readily discover
the origin of the “boiling, or inflammable spring.”
We were next conducted to several spots, amidst the rough and wooded
mountains, where we saw the tar issuing copiously into pits from the
earth, and witnessed the mode of collecting it. So plentiful is it in
this part of the country, that it may be procured from any hole dug deep
enough to contain water; for when small openings are made in the earth,
and water has flowed into them, the petroleum issuing from their sides
accumulates and floats in a thick coating upon the surface. It is
collected by laying the palm of the hand flat upon the water, and then
scraping off the tar, which adheres to it, upon the edge of a basin or a
calabash, repeating the dipping and scraping until the fluid is entirely
cleared of its bituminous covering. After a few days the water is again
bespread with tar, and more of it may be collected in a similar manner.
In order to reach these pits we were obliged to scramble, on foot,
through deep and mountainous woods, and by way of narrow rugged paths,
leaving our slaves and horses to go round and meet us at a distant spot
below. Near the pits were great numbers of lemon-trees, whose fruit,
like the crabs of the English hedges, having fallen from its branches,
lay in heaps, unheeded, upon the ground.
In the part of the wood where we saw the inflammable spring were growing
mountain-cabbage trees, which were said to be of a peculiar kind, and
different from all others in the island. This magnificent palm is
unquestionably the finest tree that is known. From words, or drawings,
you can collect only an imperfect idea of it. To comprehend its fine
symmetry, its grandeur, and majestic loftiness, it must be seen. Its
trunk is very smooth, and almost regularly cylindrical, rising into a
superb and stately pillar, resembling a well-hewn column of stone. At
the base its circumference is somewhat greater than at any other part,
yet lessening so gradually, upwards, as to preserve the most just and
accurate proportion. Not a single branch, nor even the slightest twig,
interrupts the general harmony of the trunk, which often rises, in a
correct perpendicular, to the height of from sixty to a hundred feet,
and then spreads its palmated foliage into a wide and beautifully
radiated circle. Branches it has none, but the fine expansive leaves,
shooting immediately from the summit of the trunk, extend around it,
crowning, and as it were, protecting the massy column, in form of a
full-spread umbrella.
It will perhaps occur to you that our noble English oak, with all its
rude and crooked limbs, must be a more picturesque object. So it is; and
so is likewise the wide-branching silk-cotton: but the loftiness, the
stately grandeur, the exact proportion, and the deep-shading foliage of
the mountain-cabbage are unequalled, and, in their happy combination,
crown this tree the king of the forest—the most exalted of the vegetable
world.
When planted in avenues, it forms a grand and imposing approach to a
dwelling, conveying an air of greatness to the mansion which it adorns.
It grows, free from decay, to a very old age, but cannot be converted to
the useful purposes of timber. It is a tree of state, calculated to
enrich, and augment the magnificence of a palace: nor let it detract
from its majestic qualities to know that, after all, it is but——_a
cabbage tree_! Its loftiest summit is a spiral succulent shoot, the
sides of which, by gradually and successively unfolding, form the fine
wide-spreading foliage. Before this opens, to expand itself around, it
is a congeries of young and tender leaves, in which state it is often
boiled and brought to table as a cabbage, of which it is the very best
kind I ever remember to have tasted. It is also used, without boiling,
by way of salad, and is then eaten with oil and vinegar; and so highly
is it esteemed for these culinary purposes, that, too often, a very fine
tree has been devoted to the axe, merely because no other means could be
found, of obtaining, from its towering summit, this most excellent
cabbage.
The variety of this tree found near the inflammable spring, differs only
in having its thick tuft of fibrous roots appear several feet out of the
ground, looking as if the tree, instead of taking root in the earth, was
growing upon another short trunk placed under it, as a base or pedestal,
to support it from the soil: a circumstance which seems to have arisen
from these trees standing upon the side of a hill, and the earth being
partially washed from their roots by heavy rains. In all other respects
they are the same as the rest of their species.
After viewing the beauties of Scotland, and seeing the inflammable
spring, and the tar-pits, we went next to Mount Hilloughby, and ascended
the highest point of land in Barbadoes. From what I have said of the
part called Scotland, you will believe that the prospect from
Hilloughby’s summit must be grand and delighting indeed. The whole
island, encircled by the Atlantic ocean, was under the eye, displaying a
scene which comprehended all the variety of land and sea, of hill and
vale, of rude nature and high cultivation. On one hand were barren
rugged rocks; on the other rich and fertile plains. Towns, houses, huts,
and sugar-works were seen distributed about; bays and rivulets were
before us opening into the sea; a large fleet appeared at anchor, with
its forest of masts intermixed amidst the buildings of the town;
multitudes of ships and boats were sailing in all directions round the
coast; and the solemn forests, and painted groves displayed all the rich
foliage of tropical vegetation. To form such a picture would defeat the
genius of a Claude, or defy the bold pencil of a Salvator Rosa. It was
also further enhanced, by the circumstances under which we saw it; the
bright tropical sun being, suddenly, overcast by a heavy cloud, which,
stealing along the mountain tops, so varied the shades and tints as to
give additional effect to all the beauties of the scene: but while we
were earnestly contemplating it, this cloud broke upon us in all the
violence of a pelting storm, and drove us to seek shelter in a
neighbouring cottage.
Amidst the variety comprised in the view from Hilloughby hill I must not
forget to mention that we saw what is here termed the “_Runaway
estate_;” which is a territory of many acres of fine and rich soil, so
called from having been carried away, at various times, to a
considerable distance, by heavy torrents of rain, or sudden ruptures of
the earth. It is said not to be an unfrequent occurrence, in this
island, for a tract of land thus to assume a change of place; many
examples of which are to be seen in the parishes of St. Andrew and St.
Joseph. Large trees, plantains, sugar-canes, and different crops of
growing produce have been removed with the soil, and have continued to
thrive in their new situation, as well as if they had remained
undisturbed.
A very singular change of crop, and of soil, is said to have happened at
the estate of a Mr. Foster, where a considerable portion of land in the
possession of a poor tenant near the coast, suddenly moved into the sea;
and, while the unhappy man was bewailing the loss, not only of his crop,
but likewise of the territory on which it was planted, the land of his
neighbour, Mr. Foster, travelled to the spot, and brought him a crop of
canes, which thrived quite as well as before they took their journey.
On our approach to Col. Williams’s, we were led into a fine valley of
fruits, which offered us the most grateful refreshment that could have
presented itself. We had been long riding in excessive heat, and were
parching with thirst: when the Colonel, without previously announcing
it, conducted us to the point of a hill from which we suddenly viewed a
rich and golden orchard below. Elevated as we were above the narrow
gully in which the fruits were suspended, our situation seemed in a
degree vexatious and tantalizing: but the Colonel only tempted us, to
augment our gratification, for we quickly descended, by a steep and
confined path, into the midst of this region of sweets. Such delicious
refreshment had never before met our lips! The oranges were not only the
best we had ever tasted, but they were taken fresh from the tree, and at
a moment which was calculated to render them tenfold sweeter than they
could have been at any other time. We gathered and consumed them in
dozens; and, after having thus feasted, we proceeded to explore the
extent, and to examine the various productions of this bounteous
orchard, by whose excellent fruit, and fragrant odour, we had been so
exquisitely regaled.
The orchard is planted in a narrow gully between two hills, and is
nearly half a mile in length. It abounds in many different species of
the orange tribe—oranges, shaddocks, limes, lemons, and forbidden fruit
hanging in the most inviting profusion. The banana, the plantain, and
divers other fruits are likewise plenteously intermixed. It is the
employment of two negroes constantly to attend the orchard and protect
the fruit. The oranges which we most enjoyed, and which were esteemed
the best in the colony, were from a tree nearly a hundred years old, and
the largest upon the island. The fruit was small, but of exquisite
flavour.
Having made a most delicious repast in this sweet-shaded valley, we
again mounted our horses, and, after a short ride, arrived at Col.
Williams’s house. Here we had the refreshment of cold water and a change
of linen, and having taken a little time to rest ourselves, proceeded to
eat our dinners under the “social rock.” Descending from the house by a
steep path, we came into the valley, not far from the orchard, and
passed under a large open arch which formed the grand entrance to a
suite of natural and romantic apartments. A little further in the gully
we found an excavation called the drawing-room; and, beyond this, under
a stupendous and impending part of the rock, we arrived at a smooth and
level spot called the dining-room, which is sufficiently spacious to
accommodate a hundred people. Here was placed the hospitable board,
which is often and liberally spread by the friendly Colonel; and in this
sequestered shade were assembled chairs, benches, wine, punch, fruit,
and all that could contribute to the ease and comfort of wearied
travellers. But, in truth, we were not of this class; for the
gratification and high mental delight we had experienced, had completely
protected us against bodily fatigue, notwithstanding our long and
scorching ride.
We drank a glass of punch, and explored the deep caverns and various
recesses of this natural retreat before the dinner was served. About
four o’clock we took our seats at table, having been in almost constant
exercise from five in the morning. A hanging rock of madripores shaded
us above and behind; and, in the front, the breeze of the valley softly
made its way to us through a plantation of bamboos and fragrant limes,
while, immediately before us, smoking viands, rich wines, and delicious
fruits crowned the board. Having endeavoured to provoke your thirst for
the oranges of the valley, I might further urge your appetite in quest
of the cray-fish soup of the “social rock,” for I do not know that I
ever tasted any dish so rich, or of such exquisite flavour.
In the evening the Colonel loaded us home with fruits from the orchard;
but the party did not separate until our kind friends had planned for us
a still more extensive _marooning_ excursion; to which I need scarcely
say we gave our most cordial consent. Our return to Bridge-town was
peculiarly pleasant: the moon shone bright, the heat was moderate, and
we had quite the agreeable ride of an English summer evening. The
distance is about eight miles, and as we descended from the higher to
the lower land the air became perceptibly closer, until, at the town,
the breeze seemed to desert us, and we, no longer, felt the cool
perflation, which had been so grateful to us in the more elevated parts
of the island.
Never, perhaps, did a long and interesting day pass more pleasantly; nor
was hospitality ever bestowed with more friendly urbanity. We felt
infinitely less fatigued than might have been expected, from the great
distance we had journeyed, and from the length of time we were exposed
to heat, and exercise; and the only alloy, which in any degree
interrupted our enjoyment, throughout this happy visit, was a sense of
suffering, of which we could not wholly divest ourselves, concerning the
poor slaves, who had to support, on foot, the very same journey which,
in us, was regarded as a surprising exertion on horseback.
In the course of the ride we repeatedly made compassionate appeals to
the gentlemen of the island concerning them, but they as constantly
assured us that our pity was misplaced, adding, that the negroes were
accustomed to the exercise, and would suffer less than ourselves. Still
our European feelings forced upon us the wish that either they had been
accommodated with mules, or we had dispensed with their attendance; and
it will require a much longer residence, amidst this new order of
things, before we shall be able to persuade ourselves that our sense of
disquietude was only a misplaced humanity.
I should have told you that in our long ride we had the opportunity of
seeing a very extensive variety of the vegetable productions of the
tropical world; and that we met with multitudes of trees, shrubs, and
plants, which were not before familiar to us—many, also, which were
wholly new to our observation. Among those which most attracted our
attention were the pimento, wild cinnamon, ginger, cassia, cassada,
banana, plantain, tamarind, cashew-apple, mango, sapadillo, papaw,
mammee, soursop, goava, grenadillo, water-lemon, oranges, limes, lemons,
shaddock, forbidden fruit, the aloe, logwood, mahogany, cedar, and
lignum vitæ. The great staple productions of the West Indies, sugar,
cotton, and coffee, were also brought frequently before the eye, during
this interesting excursion.
It appeared to us somewhat remarkable that, in the whole extent of our
tour, we should not have seen any pines growing, except at one spot near
Hilloughby hill, where they were regularly planted as the crop of part
of a sugarfield. The fruit was not ripe; we had no opportunity therefore
of comparing its flavour with that of the pines of our English
hot-houses; and, consequently, none of judging whether the cultivation
of this plant be one of those circumstances, as some have asserted, in
which art has been made to rival the works of nature. Improbable as this
would seem, upon a first view of the great perfection of nature’s
productions, still a further consideration renders it more than
possible; for, if animals can be improved by culture; if the apple and
the cabbage can be rendered more useful, the pink and the tulip more
beautiful, by the hand of man; and, if the powers of our organs of
vision can be enlarged by his researches in the science of optics; what
is there that shall prevent him from enriching the flavour of a tropical
fruit, in a temperate climate? It would seem, indeed, to require only an
accurate and steady attention to the laws, and operations of nature
itself; not with a view to oppose or distort the beautiful harmony of
her works; but to profit of the great lesson she so liberally displays,
by directing, towards the one great object of our care, those means
which she is busied in supplying to all. Her bounty is not confined to
one plant, or a single animal, but is unlimited as the universe. It
belongs to her not only to foster the fragrant pine and the honeyed
cane, but with equal care, to give pungency to capsicum, and bitterness
to the aloe.
If the growth and flavour of a pine depend upon a certain degree of heat
and light, with a due proportion of air and moisture—all these we have
in England; and, from careful observation, we may enable ourselves to
supply to this, or any other particular plant, the necessary quantum of
these elements with a more undeviating certainty, than will commonly be
done by nature; she having to dispense her means, not to one root alone,
but to all creation. The particular degree of moisture necessary for the
pine might injure the neighbouring coffee—the appropriate quantity of
air, might not be the exact proportion required by the cotton—or the
precise ratio of light and heat might differ from that demanded by the
sugar-cane! But where man commands the disposal he may direct the
elements, in due degree, to his exotic nursling, and, avoiding the
irregularities of the natural climate, may learn to cultivate, and to
improve, at home, what nature never gave to his native soil.