Barbadoes, April 7.
Having, from time to time, detailed to you, in desultory remark, the
whole chain of circumstances passing under my eye, perhaps, you will not
deem it premature, should I now offer you a few general observations
concerning the island of Barbadoes. After a residence of many weeks it
is probable that my remarks may possess more of correctness than any I
might have given you immediately on my arrival. I feel it likely also,
that you may find them rather more interesting after the irregular notes
which have preceded them. I purpose therefore taking up my pen, at each
moment of leisure, until I shall have copied the few memoranda which I
have collected on the general subject of Barbadoes; and shall send them
to you, in a full packet, by some early occasion.
From the situation of the West India Islands in the Atlantic ocean,
extending in form of a semicircle, nearly from the coast of Florida to
the river Oronoko, it might seem that, at some remote period, they had
been detached from the great continent of America, either by the gradual
and progressive power of the ocean, or by some great and sudden
convulsion of nature. But from their being of very irregular and
mountainous surface, while the land of the proximate shore is peculiarly
low and flat, to a distance of many miles from the coast, it is probable
that the islands and the main land had a different origin. The craggy
shores, and rugged broken figure of the islands bespeak a sudden
formation; while the smooth and muddy surface of the opposite coast
indicates a less disturbed and slower beginning. Probably the latter has
been produced from the gradual deposit of a feculent ocean—the former
from volcanic eruptions.
Barbadoes is the most windward of the West India Islands; and is in that
division of them known by the appellation of Charibbee Islands; a name
they have obtained from one of the nations of Indians, who formerly
inhabited them.
It is about twenty-one miles in length, by fourteen in breadth; lying in
latitude 13° North, longitude 59° West. The English have occupied it
nearly two centuries, having taken possession of it in the reign of
James I. At the time of being settled by our countrymen, it was covered
with wood, and had no marks of having been, before, occupied by man; but
it now appears under a very different aspect, the destructive axe having
converted its deep and heavy forests into even characteristic nakedness.
West Indians regard it as of low and level surface: but this can be only
comparatively speaking, in reference to the neighbouring islands, whose
bold summits pierce the clouds; for Barbadoes has all the pleasant
variety afforded by hills and broken land, and, in some parts, is even
mountainous, though less so than Grenada, St. Vincent, or St. Lucie.
It is considered as an old island, and, from having been long in
cultivation, is said to be much exhausted, and wearing to decay. Those
concerned in the culture of more recent, and now more prolific colonies,
seem to compassionate Barbadoes as the venerable and decrepit parent of
the race; while its inhabitants pride themselves upon its antiquity,
and, like the feudal lords of still more ancient states, assume a
consequence, I might almost say claim hereditary rank and privilege from
priority of establishment. Some of the creoles of the island commit the
excess of attaching to it a degree of importance beyond even the
mother-country. “_What would poor Old England do_,” say they, “_were
Barbadoes to forsake her?_” This sense of distinction is strongly
manifested also in the sentiment conveyed by the vulgar expression so
common in the island—“_neither Charib, nor creole, but true Barbadian_,”
and which is participated even by the slaves, who proudly arrogate a
superiority above the negroes of the other islands! Ask one of them if
he was imported, or if he be a creole, and he immediately replies, “_Me
neder Chrab, nor creole, Massa! me troo Barbadian born_.”
Perhaps the late decline of this island may be less the effect of
exhaustion of the soil, than of the extensive emigration, and the
diversion of commerce consequent on the cultivation of new islands and
colonies. In the early period of its culture Barbadoes yielded a
produce, and gave rise to an extent of commerce, not known in any other
island, and its population increased to a degree, perhaps unprecedented
in any part of the globe. Within the first fifty years the trade of the
island had become sufficient to employ four hundred sail of shipping;
and the number of inhabitants amounted to no less than one hundred and
fifty thousand, being upwards of five hundred to every square mile.
To enable the land to continue the bountiful produce it now afforded,
required much labour, and a great and expensive supply of manure;
therefore as new colonies were settled, and new land brought into
cultivation, which was capable of yielding equal returns with less
labour, and less of artificial supply, it became an object to
individuals to emigrate from the neighbouring island of Barbadoes, and
engage in the culture of the more recent, and less exhausted
settlements; and, thus, with the population, the commerce, which before
had been confined to the parent island, was necessarily diverted into
new and various channels.
At this day the Dutch colonies of Guiana, and the captured island of
Martinique are a continual drain upon the population of Barbadoes. But
notwithstanding its decline from what it once was, it is still the most
populous, and one of the most important of our West India possessions.
From situation, and from its fine bay for shipping, even independent of
its produce, it must ever be valuable to us; and may be considered as
the key of the West Indies.
If in the richness of its crops Barbadoes now yields to other
settlements; if its population and commerce have decreased; if its thick
woods have fallen before the ruthless axe; and if its mountains are less
aspiring than the towering summits of some of the adjacent islands;
still its trade and produce continue to be important; its population
great; and the picturesque scenery of its surface, perhaps, unrivalled.
Nor are these its only advantages; for, in consequence of being more
cleared, and more generally cultivated, than the other islands, its
temperature is more equable, and its air more salubrious. Damp woods do
not interrupt, nor stagnant morasses empoison the breeze. Every part is
exposed to the influence of the trade-wind; by the coolness and
salubrity of which, this is rendered the most healthful of the islands;
insomuch that it is common, in sickness, to make a voyage from the
neighbouring colonies to Barbadoes, as the Montpelier of the West
Indies. Being situated to windward of the other settlements it receives
the steady breeze, brought to it, in all its purity, from a wide extent
of ocean, unimpregnated by the septical exhalations of stagnant waters,
or marshy soils. Its temperature has been far less inconvenient than we
expected: we have felt but little oppression from heat; and have
continued our habits of exercise without interruption. In the harbour,
and placed in the shade, the thermometer has seldom been higher than 84,
and at no time has exceeded 86 degrees.
Yet blessed as the island is in its exemption from excessive heat, from
noxious miasmata, and from great and general sickness, it has its
peculiar ills; being visited with an endemial affliction, so much its
own as to have obtained the appellation of _the Barbadoes disease_. It
appears in form of the elephantiasis, or what is here termed the
“glandular disease,” and is a most unsightly and distressful malady.
Bridge-town is the capital of the island, and is situated on the S. W.
bank of Carlisle Bay, which is one of the finest harbours, for shipping,
in the West Indies; but is not considered to be secure during the
hurricane season. It derives its name from the circumstance of a royal
grant of the island having formerly been made to the Earl of Carlisle.
The other towns are Speights-town, Austin-town, and Hole-town, all of
which are much inferior to Bridge-town.
Both the scenery and the population of the island are more indebted to
the number and variety of mansions, cottages, and huts, dispersed over
its surface, than to its towns; which, as is too commonly the case in
all countries, are built with less regard to general appearance, and the
health of the inhabitants, than to the convenience of trade, and the
profit of individuals.
On all quarters of the island are seen windmills, storehouses, and other
buildings for sugar, coffee, and cotton; houses of planters, the smaller
dwellings of cottagers, and the huts of negroes; all of which improve
the scenery, while they convey the idea of extensive population, and
delight the mind with images of rural enjoyment, and of generally
diffused comfort and tranquillity. The various buildings, together with
the protecting shades about them—the luxuriant vegetation—the constant
verdure of the fields—the evergreen foliage of the trees—the broken
irregular hills, lofty mountains, and cultivated plains—all surrounded
with extensive views of shipping, and the open sea, create an effect
more diversified and interesting than is often to be met with, and
contribute to render Barbadoes a most pleasant and picturesque island.
I have before mentioned to you the general appearance of its soil: near
Bridge-town it is of rich black earth, mostly spread on a base of
calcareous rock, formed of madripores, and other marine concretions: in
some districts it is of a red earth, of greater depth, but less rich: in
others the soil is of a light whitish earth, broken into a grey-looking
mould, or hardened into lumps resembling chalk; but actually consisting
of indurated argille, bleached by exposure to the weather.
From this variety in the land, together with that which attaches to
situation, as being flat, or mountainous, protected, or exposed, it will
necessarily happen, that the produce will differ in different parts of
the island: and as the whole has been long under cultivation, it is
manifest that if a due supply of manure cannot be procured, a degree of
exhaustion, bearing a certain ratio to the deficiency, must result.
It is established, from the mode of agriculture adopted in some counties
of England, that, by an adequate supply of manure, estates may be kept
in a constant round of cultivation, yielding as prolific crops as upon
their earliest tillage; and this is found to be no less certain, than
that if the land be subjected to continued culture, without such supply,
it will be so exhausted, in the course of a few years, as not to give
sufficient produce to compensate the labour and expense.
The same facts equally apply to Barbadoes, where, if the artificial
supply be not commensurate with the harvest removed from the land, a
gradual diminution of the crops will succeed; or, in order to have these
in their usual abundance, the acres in cultivation must be reduced to
such a number as the island shall be capable of furnishing with an
adequate quantity of manure; and we accordingly find that herds of small
steers are kept upon the plantations, for the purpose of supplying this
indispensable addition to the soil. These are employed instead of horses
in the heavy labour of the estate, and we often see from twelve to
twenty-four of them yoked in a waggon, drawing a single hogshead of
sugar, or some other load, such as in London would be conveyed with
facility by one horse in a cart.
At night the cattle are penned upon a bed of trash, collected from the
refuse of the canes, and other waste materials of the estate; by
treading upon which, and mixing it with their own dung, they trample the
whole into an useful compost for the fields.
It necessarily follows from such numbers of cattle being required, for
the purpose of manuring the land, that a greater supply of beef and veal
is raised for the markets, and that fresh provisions are more plentiful
than in most of the other colonies. Of the custom of buying the veal in
live quarters for the pot I have already spoken; and I may now remark
that the beef is commonly killed so very young as to form neither beef
nor veal, but something of appearance and flavour between the two.
The seasons here are not divided into winter and summer, but into wet
and dry: yet are they, by no means, what many, from these terms, would
believe, who might imagine that half the year is drowned with incessant
rain, and the other half parched with constant drought. Such a
construction of the terms _wet_ season, and _dry_ season, though not
unfrequent, is far from correct, and leads to a very inaccurate idea of
the climate; for, notwithstanding it has been the dry season, during the
whole time we have been at Barbadoes, we have scarcely had two
successive days without refreshing rain; although the showers are not so
heavy at this period as at that of their greater frequency, termed the
wet season, when the torrents which fall might convey the idea of a
sudden rupture of the clouds, letting forth their waters _in streams_ to
the earth.
The quick evaporation which succeeds to rain in this climate creates a
most agreeable and refreshing coolness. The extreme ardor of the sun’s
rays is also counteracted by the ever-grateful breeze, which sets in
from the sea about eight or nine o’clock in the morning, and continues
throughout the day, ceasing only as the sun forsakes us at evening; when
we are again defended from oppressive languor by a breeze springing up
from the land. This sets in as that from the sea subsides, and
diverging, as it were from a central point, is felt on all quarters of
the island.
The day is nearly of equal length throughout the whole circle of the
year. We have none of the short dark days of an English winter, nor of
the still shorter light nights of a Scottish summer. Nights of one or
two hours, and days of six or seven, are here equally unknown. It is
light about six o’clock in the morning, and dark about seven at night.
Evening is scarcely observed. The sun traversing his vertical course
sinks at once from the horizon, and, refusing his oblique beams to
protract or soften the decline of day, robs us of the twilight hour, and
suddenly throws around all the obscurity of night.
This uniformity of the diurnal round scarcely exceeds that of the
general temperature of the climate, which brings us one perpetual
summer. The fields and the trees are always green. Nature ever smiles.
Uninterrupted by the torpor of winter, she is neither chilled with
frost, nor buried in snow. But, for these advantages we forego the
sprightly delight, and genial comfort of a summer’s evening, the
all-animating pleasures of a returning spring, and the soft joys of the
twilight hours. If I had time for such discussions, I might enter into a
long digression upon the comparative excellence of the climate we have
left, and that we now inhabit: yet should I yield the palm to my native
island; for of all the charms of climate in other countries, however
great or durable, I know none that can stand in competition with the
balmy softness of England’s spring.
* * * * *
April 8.
The uniform returns of day and night in this climate induce a regularity
of habit in the hours of rising, and going to rest. It is common to
leave the pillow at six in the morning, and few persons remain out of
bed after eleven at night. The coolest and most pleasant part of the day
is from six to about half past seven o’clock in the morning: about eight
a degree of closeness is often experienced, arising from the decline of
the land-breeze, before that from the sea has become sufficiently strong
to diffuse its influence. A similar period, likewise, occurs at evening,
between the abatement of the sea breeze and the setting in of the breeze
from the land. Some days the closeness of these hours is so slight, as
to be scarcely perceptible, but commonly they are by far the most
oppressive of the twenty-four.
Respecting the mode of living it may be remarked that in all countries
said to be civilized, and among all people calling themselves refined,
too much of time and attention is devoted to the business of eating and
drinking. Perhaps the majority of diseases in social life may be traced
to this source. Were it possible to convey, in a single sentence, the
frightful train of ills, the melancholy interruptions of health, and the
immense consumption of time, thus produced, men would be shocked to read
it! They would be terrified to behold the magnitude of an abuse, to
which, unheeding, they had so long been devoted. This remark applies but
too correctly to the island from whence I am addressing you, and where,
from the state of indolence induced by tropical heat, the ingesta taken
to excess may be expected in a peculiar degree to oppress the human
frame.
The people of Barbadoes are much addicted to the pleasures of the table.
The breakfast usually consists of tea and coffee, or chocolate, with
eggs, ham, tongue, or other cold meat. Bread is seldom used, but
substitutes are found in roasted yams or eddoes, both of which a good
deal resemble roasted potatoes. They are taken hot, and eaten with
butter, which is sometimes made in the country, but more frequently
barrelled and brought from Ireland; that prepared in the island being of
cream-like softness, and not always of good flavour. In the course of
the forenoon are used fruits, or sandwiches, with free libations of
punch and sangaree: immediately preceding dinner, which is commonly at
an early hour, are taken punch or mandram. The dinner, for the most
part, is profuse, and many hours are passed at table in full and busy
feasting.
After a more than plentiful consumption of food, a free indulgence in
fruit, and a bounteous supply of wine and other good liquors, the
appetite and thirst are further provoked by a dish of sprats, or other
broiled fish, and a large bowl of milk-punch. Tea and coffee are next
served; and lastly comes the supper, which forms no trifling meal. After
this the bottle, the glass, and the punch-bowl experience no rest, until
bed-time.
From the nature of the climate we expected to have found the inhabitants
men of meager person, half dissolved in perspiration, and exhausted
almost to shadows: nor, indeed, are such figures rare, but they are to
be found, mostly, among the clerks, the book-keepers, and those orders
of white people below the managers who are employed in active and busy
occupation, and have but little time to devote to indolence and the
luxuries of the table.
We observe that condiments are used very generally, and with great
freedom. Acting as stimulants they appear to have the effect of causing
the relaxed and enfeebled stomach to digest more than it would,
otherwise, require—more, indeed, than it would, otherwise, take. The
various species of red pepper, known in England under the common term
_Cayenne_, are employed in quantities that would seem incredible to
people of colder climates.
A most heterogeneous mixture of food is often consumed; and with this
compound of solids, are used wine, punch, porter, cyder, noyeau, and
other good liquors in free libation; yet are there specimens of health
and vigour, amidst all these indulgences, which might seem to invalidate
the doctrines of the advocates of abstemiousness.
In the order of the feast plenty more prevails than elegance. The loaded
board groans, nay almost sinks beneath the weight of hospitality. That
delicacy of arrangement now studied in England, under the term economy
of the table, is here deemed a less perfection than a substantial
plenty. Liberality is more esteemed than neatness in the supply; and
solids are, sometimes, heaped upon the table in a crowded abundance that
might make a London fine lady faint.
The repast not unfrequently consists of different kinds of fish—a
variety of soups—a young kid—a whole lamb, or half a sheep—several
dishes of beef, or mutton—a turkey—a large ham—Guinea fowls—and a pigeon
pie; with various kinds of puddings; a profusion of vegetables; and
multitudes of sweets. I was lately one of a small party, where,
precisely, this dinner was served, and where the half of a sheep,
kicking its legs almost in the face of the master of the house, adorned
the bottom of the table—forming the most unseemly dish I ever beheld.
The generous board is often supplied wholly from the produce of the
estate, and on the occasion of giving an entertainment it is not unusual
to kill an ox, a sheep, or, literally, the fatted calf: hence it
sometimes occurs that several dishes of the same kind of food, under
different forms, make up the principal part of the dinner.
The liquors most in use are Madeira and claret wines, punch, sangaree,
porter, and cyder. Punch and sangaree are commonly used as the
_diluents_ of the morning. The latter forms a most delightful drink. A
glass of it, taken when parching with thirst, from heat and fatigue, may
be ranked among the highest gratifications of our nature! It consists of
half Madeira wine and half water, acidulated with the fragrant lime,
sweetened with sugar, and flavoured with nutmeg. A stronger sort of it
is sometimes made under the superlative name of _sangrorum_. This
differs from the former, only in containing a greater proportion of
wine.
The too-prevalent English custom of _sending away_ the ladies, or,
according to the politer term, of the ladies _retiring_ after dinner,
for the gentlemen _to enjoy_ their bottle, prevails also at Barbadoes;
and, we have thought, even to a greater extreme than in England. They
leave us very soon _after_ dinner, and, often, we see no more of them
during the evening. Frequently they do not join us _before_ dinner; but
we find them all assembled, at the head of the table, when we enter the
dining-room. The party is sometimes so badly arranged, that we have
scarcely more of the society of the ladies, and the people of the
island, than if we had remained on board ship. Instead of the different
persons being, pleasantly, intermixed, it is too common to see the
ladies grouped together in a body at the upper end of the table; the
officers and strangers, just arrived from Europe, placed at one side;
and the gentlemen of the island, who are familiar acquaintances, at the
other. The attendants at the dinner-table are very numerous. In addition
to those of the family, almost every gentleman has his own slave; and,
thus, to frequently happens that the room is crowded with sable
domestics, whose surfaces emit an odour not less savoury than the
richest dishes of the board.
In its supply of fresh provisions, particularly what is here termed
_stock_, such as fowls and the like, Barbadoes exhibits a degree of
plenty unknown in the neighbouring islands. This seems to be the happy
effect of allowing the slaves to raise these things for sale, together
with there being many small settlers, distributed about the country, who
find their support chiefly in breeding stock for the markets. Poultry
has been our principal food. Turkies, Guinea fowls, and chickens, we
have had in great abundance. When we arrived, in the month of February,
they were sold in the public market at little more than a bit (about
5½_d._) per pound, but from the increased demand, consequent upon the
presence of so many troops, and such throngs of shipping, the price is
now raised to nearly two bits. The Muscovy ducks are also bred in
numbers upon the island, and are so large as to appear like geese, when
dressed for the table. Next to small stock they have veal and pork in
the greatest plenty. In Bridge-town they have also a fish-market, which
at times is well supplied, but not so regularly, as, from the insular
situation of the country, might be expected.
You will form some idea of the immense flocks of poultry raised on this
little island, when I tell you that not only the ships of war, and the
transports, but most of the West India trading vessels, recruit their
provisions at Barbadoes; and that in addition to this constant and
extensive drain it furnishes occasional supplies to the other colonies.
Since we have been in Carlisle Bay, we have seen, at various times,
great quantities of stock shipped for Martinique.
In point of clothing the people of Barbadoes deviate less from the
habits of England than the difference of climate would seem to warrant.
Their dress resembles that worn in our more northern latitude, being
commonly a cloth coat, white cotton waistcoat, and nankeen pantaloons.
In some instances people of very active employment, or those who are
much exposed in the fields, have the whole suit made of nankeen. Their
night clothing seems more appropriate to the greater heat of the climate
than the apparel of the day. It is common to sleep on a hard mattress in
a long cotton shirt, without any other covering, except in the coolest
season, when they make the slight addition of a cotton sheet.
One of the most prominent characteristics of the island is the tedious
languor in which the people of Barbadoes pronounce their words. To
convey to you, by the pen, any idea of their manner of speaking is
utterly impossible: to be comprehended, it must be heard. The languid
syllables are drawled out as if it were a great fatigue to utter them;
and the tortured ear of an European grows impatient in waiting for the
end of a word, or a sentence. “_How you do to da—ay_,” spoken by a
Barbadian creole, consumes nearly as much time as might suffice for all
the compliments of the morning! nor is this wearisome pronunciation
confined to the people of colour; it occurs, likewise, among the whites,
particularly those who have not visited Europe, nor resided for some
time away from the island. In the same lengthened accent do the lower
orders of Barbadians vent their unrestrained rage, in vollies of
uncommonly dreadful oaths, which, in their horrible combinations and
epithets, form imprecations peculiarly impious.
In manner, also, and in movement, as well as in speech, a degree of
indolence and inaction prevails, beyond what might be expected, merely
from heat of climate, and which is extremely annoying to Europeans.
The state of the negroes in Barbadoes varies, as the state of slaves
must ever do, according to the disposition and circumstances of the
master. Under such humane and benevolent characters as Mr. Waith, and
others whom we have visited, their situation might be envied by the poor
of European nations! But under severe and cruel masters it becomes a
state of ceaseless vexation and misery.
On the very important question of slavery in general I do not feel that
my experience, hitherto, in the West Indies, enables me to judge with
accuracy. But I will take care to note for you such facts as shall occur
to my observation, and I may some day, perhaps, give you them in a
separate letter.
Very much to the discredit of Barbadoes, numbers of old, diseased, or
decrepit negroes, objects of compassion, and of horror, are seen lying
at the corners, or begging about the streets. This, like the toleration
of the swarms of mendicants in England, is a nuisance for which there is
no excuse. If these poor unfortunate negroes be free, they should be
relieved by a general tax upon the island: if slaves, the law should
compel every master to provide for his own. Should the laws of humanity
be insufficient, and those of justice inadequate, a law of coercion
should constrain the unfeeling owner to protect and cherish the being,
whose youth and vigour have been expended for his benefit; and who,
having worn out his days, in the heavy toils of bondage, is grown aged
and infirm!
What can be so unworthy! what so disgraceful, as for a master to
neglect, in old age, the slave from whom he has exacted all the labour
of youth, and all the vigour of manhood? Perhaps nothing portrays in
more melancholy demonstration, the possible depravity of the human
heart! No longer able to exert himself to his owner’s profit, the aged
slave, enfeebled by years, and exhausted by toil, is left to beg his
_yam_ from door to door! Abandoned by his cruel master, he becomes a
pensioner upon promiscuous charity, or is allowed to fall a prey to
disease, and to want!
Without some compulsory law the slaves of the avaricious and of the
lower orders, who are, themselves, scarcely removed from indigence, must
ever be subject to this hard lot of neglect and cruelty.
The first specimen of West India slaves which met our observation was
singularly calculated to impress us with sentiments of compassion and
disgust. It occurred at the very moment, too, when the impression would
be most powerful, and consequently it will remain indelible. Immediately
on our coming to anchor in Carlisle Bay, a woman appeared alongside the
ship in a small boat, with some bad fruit, tobacco, salt fish, and other
articles of traffic. She was rowed by two negroes, who were her slaves.
Two such objects of human form and human misery had never before met our
eyes! They were feeble, meager, and dejected—half-starved, half-naked,
and, in figure, too accurately resembling hungry and distempered
greyhounds! They crouched upon their heels and haunches in the boat;
their bones almost pierced their filthy and eruptive skins; their wasted
frames trembled with debility; and, while their hollow eyes and famished
countenances rendered them ghastly images of horror, their whole
appearance shocked humanity, and appalled the sight! Are these, we
exclaimed, what are called slaves? Is this the state to which human
beings are reduced in bondage? Afflicting and cruel indeed! Well may
slavery be deemed a curse! Can it be possible that these spectres once
were men? Are such the objects we are to see? Are these the wretched and
deplorable beings who are to appear every day, and every hour before our
eyes? Forbid it humanity! forbid it Heaven! Such was the apostrophe of
the moment, and I feel a sincere gratification in being able to inform
you that the melancholy subjects of this first impression were not
correct examples of the general mass of slaves. Still it is grievous
that any such should be seen: but we hope to find them only rare
instances, for we learn that the large gangs of negroes kept by the
great merchants, and the planters, are generally treated with kindness
and humanity, and appear contented and in comfort.
It is easy to distinguish the slaves of the opulent and respectable
inhabitants from those of the poor and needy people of the town. The
latter, being in poverty themselves, can only give to their negroes a
scanty allowance of food, while their indigence induces them to exact an
over-proportion of labour. Hence the slaves of this class of people
appear too often with sharp bones and hungry sallow countenances, having
eruptions about the body, and their skins of an unhealthy hue. Their
general appearance indeed is dirty and unwholesome, and strikingly marks
their neglected state. Want and wretchedness are deeply stamped in every
line of their persons; and they may not inaptly be said to resemble the
worn-out horse or the starved and jaded ass, too often seen trembling
under a heavy burden, or reeling in an old tattered cart upon the roads
of England.
It is not the practice to load the slaves with a superfluity of
clothing: a shirt, and a pair of breeches, or only the latter, for the
men; and a single petticoat for the women, constitute the whole apparel.
Bedding and bedclothes find no place in their list of necessaries: they
usually sleep on a hard plank, in the clothing of the day. Repose is
both ensured and sweetened to them by labour; and the head needs no
pillow but the arm. Some who, by means of industry and economy, are more
advanced in their little comforts, procure a kind of matting, a
paillasse of plantain-leaves, or some other species of bedding, to
defend them from the bare plank; but this is an indulgence
self-attained, not a necessary provided by the master. The architecture
of their huts is as rude as it is simple. A roof of plantain-leaves,
with a few rough boards, nailed to the coarse pillars which support it,
form the whole building. The leeward side is commonly left in part open,
and the roof projects to some distance over the door-way, forming a
defence against both the sun and the rain.
Notwithstanding the great heat experienced by Europeans, the negroes
feel the evenings chilly, and we frequently see them crowding round the
bit of fire which they make for cooking their supper. This is commonly
in the open air near to the door of the hut; but they sometimes place it
upon the middle of the dirt floor withinside the building; where they
seem to have great enjoyment in squatting round it, amidst the thick
cloud of smoke, to whiff additional fumes from the short pipe or sagar,
and to join in loud and merry song.
Smoking is an universal custom among them. In order to be at all moments
provided for this enjoyment, they carry in their breeches pocket a short
pipe, about an inch in length from the bowl; or instead of this a leaf
of tobacco rolled into a sagar. Very often the pipe is so short, or the
sagar so closely smoked away, as to endanger burning the nose, or even
the lips. I have frequently seen them smoking with the pipe so short as
to hold it in the mouth by pressing with the lips upon the lower part of
the bowl. They often kindle their pipes, by putting bowl to bowl and
nose to nose, and smoking into each other’s eyes, until the tobacco has
taken fire.
The food of the negroes is issued to them weekly, under the inspection
of the manager. It is very simple and but little varied; breakfast,
dinner, and supper being similar to each other, and the same throughout
the year. It consists mostly of Guinea corn, with a small bit of salt
meat, or salt fish. Formerly a bunch of plantains was given to each
slave as the weekly allowance: but the plantain-walks being mostly worn
out, this is become an expensive provision. Rice, maize, yams, eddoes,
and sweet potatoes form an occasional change, but the Guinea corn is,
commonly, issued as the weekly supply; and in order to obtain some
variety of food, they barter this in exchange for other provisions, or
sell it for money, and with that buy salt meat or vegetables. We see
them occasionally offering the Guinea corn for sale; and on being asked
why they sell it, they thus express themselves: “Me no like for have him
Guinea corn always! Massa gib me Guinea corn too much. Guinea corn
to-day! Guinea corn to-morrow! Guinea corn eb’ry day! Me no like him
Guinea corn—him Guinea corn no good for gnhyaam.”
The weekly supply being issued to them on the Sunday, it becomes their
own care how to use it so as to have a sufficiency of food until the
following Sabbath. Those who are industrious have little additions of
their own, either from vegetables grown on the spot of ground allotted
to them, or purchased with the money obtained for the pig, the goat, or
other stock raised about their huts in the negro-yard.
A mess of pottage, or very hot soup, called pepper-pot, is one of their
favorite dishes, which is also much esteemed by the inhabitants, and by
strangers. It is prepared by stewing various kinds of vegetables with a
bit of salt meat, or salt fish, and seasoning it very highly with the
pods of the red pepper. The vegetable, called squashes, is much used in
these pepper-pots. Bread is unknown among the slaves of the West Indies:
nor, indeed, is it in common use among their masters, but they find very
excellent substitutes in the yam, the cassada, and the eddoe.
The usual round of labour of the slaves is from sunrise to sunset,
having intervals of rest allowed them, at the times of breakfast, and
dinner.
The negroes are generally sad thieves; they appear to know no sense of
honesty. Ignorant of all moral principle, they steal without thinking it
wrong, and without any apprehension, except that of being detected. The
planters are obliged to employ one or two of the most trusty of them in
the capacity of watchmen to guard, by close and constant attention, the
orchards, plantain-walks, provision-stores, and the like, from the
depredations of their own and their neighbours’ slaves. Although they
have no remorse in stealing whensoever or wheresoever opportunity
offers, still they are peculiarly prone to robbing their masters; and
this they do not even consider a theft, as is too evident by an
expression very common among them, viz. “_Me no tief him: me take him
from Massa_.”
* * * * *
April 9.
In speaking to you of the exemption of Barbadoes from great and
destructive sickness, I remarked that, although it escaped some general
ills, it was visited with a malady peculiarly its own. As this forms a
characteristic feature of the country, and cannot but attract the
notice, and excite the curiosity of strangers, you would not excuse me
if I were to neglect offering you a few words upon the subject.
The disease is the _elephantiasis_; called by some the “_glandular
disease_,” but, by the many, designated simply the “_Barbadoes
disease_.” It commonly appears in the form of an enormous enlargement of
one or both legs; but affects occasionally other parts, particularly the
scrotum, which becomes increased to a surprising bulk. When once
established, it is extremely difficult to remove, and for the most part
proves to be incurable. It disturbs the general health less than might
be expected, and frequently exists for many years, or, even during the
remainder of a long life, without seeming materially to impair the
constitution. It is mostly seen among the negroes, but it occurs also
among the creole whites, and even suffers not the Europeans to escape.
Although so frequent in Barbadoes, as to be held in a great degree
peculiar or endemial, it is not wholly confined to this country: some
instances of it being found in the neighbouring islands.
It would seem not to have been so prevalent, as it now is, from any very
distant period of time; for about the year 1760 died at Barbadoes a man
named Francis Briggs, more commonly known by the fictitious appellation
of Christopher Columbus, who, from the uncommon and monstrous appearance
of his legs, had been represented as the bugbear or object of terror for
the purpose of frightening children.
Male and female, young, middle-aged, and old, black, yellow, and white,
are now all subject to its attack; and, in walking along the streets,
the eye is distressed, at almost every corner, with the appearance of
this hideous deformity.
The disease usually begins with an affection of the inguinal glands,
from whence a red streak, or line of inflammation extends down the limb,
in the direction of the lymphatic vessels; the part becoming tumefied,
and taking on a shining and œdematous appearance. The swelling gradually
occupies the whole of the leg, increasing until, in many instances, the
limb is more than double its ordinary size. The skin assumes a morbid
change, grows rough and scaly, or is covered with irregular wart-like
risings. In some cases deep belts or indentations appear in various
parts of the tumor, as if formed by the pressure of ligatures: in others
the swelling bulges out in a number of irregular protrusions: sometimes,
from extreme distention, the skin breaks into fissures, and a watery
fluid oozes out, which, on exposure to the air, grows gelatinous upon
the surface. The foot frequently partakes of the disease: but in many
cases the immense tumor of the leg terminates abruptly at the ancle,
hanging over the foot in knotty, and scaly excrescences. The deformity
is thus diversified; the enormous bulk of leg appearing under a variety
of unseemly and disgusting shapes. As the enlargement increases, the
whole extremity becomes hard and squamous; and the distended skin, which
was at first œdematous, grows thick and corneous, and entirely resists
the pressure of the finger.
It has been found on dissection that, from the effused lymph which
originally caused the tumor being coagulated and hardened, the substance
of the enlarged limb has assumed an appearance not unlike brawn; the
morbid skin, and the cellular membrane under it, being thickened into a
tough, horny, and almost cartilaginous consistence.
From this unsightly malady being mostly accompanied with fever of an
intermittent type, we often hear it termed “the fever and ague.” Indeed
from the periodical returns of the paroxysms, and from the tumefaction
succeeding to them, the disease has been very generally considered only
as an effect resulting from intermittent fever. The practice, said to be
successful in its removal, seems also to be founded upon this view of
it. Regard being had to the fever as the original affection, the
elephantiasis is viewed only as a sequel, and the curative means are
directed solely to the extinction of the febrile symptoms: which being
effected, by antimony and Peruvian bark, the patient is sent for a time
to some other island, by way of change of climate, in order to prevent a
relapse. No particular attention is paid to the tumor, which, on the
fever being removed, is expected gradually to diminish. But sometimes,
instead of receding, it remains stationary, or is increased; or if it
subside, is renewed on any future invasion of the fever.
Often a return to Barbadoes brings a return of the intermittent, and a
consequent addition to the enlargement of the already thickened
extremity; and from the attacks of the disease recurring in frequent
repetition, there remains no way of preventing it from being established
into an incurable deformity, but by seeking the remedy of a more
temperate climate. Frequently the disorder seems to be entirely subdued
by a few years residence in England, yet again takes place on the
patient returning to Barbadoes.
Some regard the disease in a directly opposite point of view,
considering the glandular tumor, with its attendant inflammation of the
lymphatics, as the primary affection, and the fever merely as
symptomatic: but it is not consistent with my present purpose, to enter
into the discussion of this question.
Different opinions have been held respecting the origin of this singular
affection. Being most frequent, or first observed among the negroes,
many have believed it to be imported with them from the shores of
Africa: but this opinion is divested of probability, by the
extraordinary prevalence of the disease at Barbadoes. Were it brought by
the slaves from Africa, it would be equally common in the other
settlements; and, not being infectious, would not be seen among the
white creoles, or the Europeans. It is undoubtedly the indigenous
offspring of the island, and perhaps is connected with a peculiarly arid
state of the atmosphere; for in the colonies shadowed with thick forests
and vegetation, it is still unknown, and has only grown common at
Barbadoes, in proportion as its woods have been removed, and the surface
of the land left unsheltered.
Except on its early attack, or at the periods of acute relapse, the
disease is attended with little or no pain, and the enlargement
sometimes proceeds so gradually, that the person himself is almost
insensible of it. He walks about as usual, and appears to suffer but
little inconvenience, either from the additional bulk, or the great
increase of weight. Hence it is often less afflicting to the individual,
than offensive to others. It is extremely repugnant to the sight; and as
the negroes walk in the streets with these diseased limbs exposed to
every eye, Europeans, but recently arrived, are exceedingly annoyed by
their filthy and monstrous appearance.
Perhaps nature has not formed, nor can the human mind conceive a being
at once so disgusting, and so pitiable, as an old half-famished negro
woman, of withered frame, hobbling about with her loose and naked skin
hanging shrivelled in deep-furrowed wrinkles; and dragging after her one
or both legs grown into an immense bulk of hideous disease—her feet only
toes, protruding from this huge mass of distempered leg! Yet such are
the objects too often seen upon the streets of Bridge-town!
* * * * *
April 10.
As planter here supersedes the title of farmer, so does plantation that
of farm. The land is cultivated in a number of divisions, which in
Europe, might receive the common designation of farms, but in Barbadoes,
they are termed plantations, or estates. Of these the distinguishing
appellation is not derived from the name of the existing possessor; but
from some specific title long since assigned to them, or from the name
of the original occupant, or of the family to whom they have for many
years belonged. Thus a person, going to visit Mr. Hollingsworth or Mr.
Waith, would not say he was going to Mr. Waith’s, or Mr.
Hollingsworth’s, but to “Colleton’s,” or to “Spendlove;” these being the
names by which the estates have long been known.
Besides the great number of hospitable mansions found on the large
plantations, in the different parts of the country; many humble
dwellings attract the notice of the traveller, and improve the general
scenery of the island. They are the cottages of a poorer order of white
people,—obscure individuals, remote from the great class of merchants
and planters, and who obtain a scanty livelihood by cultivating a small
patch of earth, and breeding up poultry, or what they term _stock_ for
the markets. They are descended from European settlers, but from
misfortune, or misconduct, in some of the race, are reduced to a state
not much superior to the condition of free negroes. This numerous class
of inhabitants, between the great planters and the people of colour,
forms a striking feature, distinguishing Barbadoes from the more
recently settled colonies. They have no precise knowledge when their
ancestors first arrived: through several generations they have been
born, and have lived on the island; and, regarding it as their native
and only abode, they do not, like their more wealthy neighbours, look to
England as another, and a better home.
Curiosity has led us to visit several of these families.
In the part of the island near the tar-pits, we called at a small hut,
or cabin, where we met with a large family of Barbadian cottagers; and,
with all the inquisitiveness of strangers, we addressed them in a
multitude of interrogatories, to which their replies were highly
gratifying. They were living amidst the mountains, apparently shut from
the world, and but seldom exposed to the intrusion of visitors. The dame
of the house was nearly seventy years of age. We found her occupied in
playful attentions with two of her grandchildren—two, of seven, of the
offspring of her daughter. Making inquiries respecting the old woman’s
history we learned that she could trace back her family in regular
lineal descent, as far as her great-grandfather, the successors of whom
have never removed from Barbadoes; so that the children we here saw,
were, to a certainty, as distant as the sixth generation, and probably
much more remote, in direct descent, from parents who had always lived
in the torrid zone. One of them was about six, the other eight years
old. In fairness of skin, in feature, and in figure, they might have
been mistaken for children born in England, or any other temperate
climate.
Near Hilloughby hill we met with another cottage family, regularly
descended from British parents, of long standing in the island, and
having all the features, and general appearance of Europeans. The father
of this family was sixty years old, and some of his predecessors had
lived to upwards of ninety. We could not trace the pædigree so
accurately as in the other family; but this probably was not less
ancient, the old man having no knowledge but of his Barbadian
predecessors, and not knowing when they first came to the island. The
occupation of this family was that of planting a small spot of land with
ginger, and raising stock to sell at Bridge-town market. They were poor,
like the others, and compelled to labour much in full exposure to the
sun. Like the negroes, too, their diet consisted chiefly of vegetables.
At the fort, commanding the entrance of Carlisle Bay, are living a man
and his wife, both natives of Barbadoes, whose ancestors for
generations, beyond all that tradition has traced to them, have resided
constantly in the island: sitting round the mother were five fine
children, their offspring, who were in face and form as fair as the
fairest Europeans.
These facts stand in direct opposition to the speculative doctrines of
those who derive the various colours of the human race from climate or
locality of residence, together with the concomitant circumstances of
diet, and mode of life.
The three families above mentioned are, undoubtedly, of the fifth or
sixth, or, perhaps, a still more distant generation, in direct lineal
descent, from parents, originally, English; but whose offspring, through
every race, to the present children, have always resided between the
tropics. They have, moreover, lived in circumstances of mediocrity,
exposed to labour, and to the full influence of climate; or have known
only the abode of poverty, and by needy fortune have been compelled to
use a diet very similar to that of the Africans. Yet is there not an
individual among them, who, either in form, feature, or colour has made
the slightest approach to that change, which a constant residence,
through so many generations, must have effected, were their descendants,
of future ages, to become of negro form, and hue.
Children born in England have not fairer skins, nor features more
correctly European. The younger have all the cherub face and form of the
lovely smiling babes of a temperate climate. Those more advanced are
thinner, and bear about them more of that languor, which universally
results from long residence in great and constant heat.
To whatever age the parents may have lived, it is remarkable that,
although the face and hands shall have become brown, from immediate
exposure to the sun, the other parts of their bodies remain white and
unchanged; and not the softest shade, not the slightest tinge of the
acquired darkness of hands or face is communicated to their offspring,
the children being, invariably, born as perfect whites as those of
Europe.
But the strong and incontrovertible fact with respect to the American
Indians, militates so decidedly against the doctrine of conversion, that
scarcely another argument can be necessary to its refutation. Although
living for unknown ages under the same parallel of latitude as the
Africans, and exposed to precisely similar habits and occupations, not
an individual of them has ever been known to resemble the negro, either
in skin or feature. Nor, indeed, would it be less reasonable to expect
that the negroes of Africa, or those of the West India islands, should
be converted into Indians, than that Indians, or Europeans, should
degenerate into Africans!
* * * * *
April 11.
It is almost incredible that on the 11th day of April the people of
Barbadoes should remain ignorant regarding the situation of an immense
fleet which sailed for that island, from England, in the month of
November preceding! Yet so it is respecting the Portsmouth convoy. Signs
of moving are now exhibited, which seem to indicate that the troops
already arrived will not be longer detained inactive. Among other marks
of approaching service, we have been called upon for a general return of
the sick, and it appears in orders that Drs. Henderson and Cave, with a
detachment of our staff, are to remain at Barbadoes in charge of the
hospitals appropriated to the St. Domingo division. In consequence of
many of the ships arriving in a sickly state, the hospitals became
crowded as soon as they were erected, notwithstanding our having the
further accommodation of converting a part of the barracks into sick
wards. But we have, in some measure, relieved the hospitals, by forming
a small encampment, and putting the convalescents under canvass.
We expect that you will hear from various quarters, and read in all the
newspapers sad histories of disease and death, but let me caution you
not to believe that we are all dying. Should it be told you that more
than a thousand sick are already in the hospitals, be not deceived into
a belief that so many are about to become the victims of climate, and
yellow fever.
The hospitals are certainly thronged, from the number of sick, but this
cannot be placed to the account of the climate or of endemic disease,
for, nearly all the men, now ill, _arrived_ in sickness. They had been
detained on Spike Island, or in crowded transports, during many weeks of
inhospitable weather, whereby extensive disease was generated among
them; and hence it happened that, upon arriving at Barbadoes, the troops
in many of the ships, although not actually ill, had approaching disease
so strongly marked in their features, that it became necessary to remove
every one of them on shore, in order to have the vessels thoroughly
fumigated and purified; and from this circumstance it occurred that many
slight cases were thrown into the hospitals, which otherwise would not
have appeared upon the list. This will in some measure explain to you
why the hospitals are crowded, although neither “yellow fever,” nor any
other malignant disease reigns amongst us.
While I am upon the subject of sickness I may remark to you that I have
had my first opportunity of seeing a case of that destructive malady,
which has lately excited such universal alarm, under the term “yellow
fever;” but, perhaps, you are not prepared to hear that, after a
residence of so many weeks in the West Indies, I have seen only a
solitary example of that disease: yet such is the fact—for, amidst all
our sickness, and crowded hospitals, only a single instance of “yellow
fever” has, hitherto, occurred. I visited this patient with my friend
Dr. Jackson, the learned author who has so ably written upon the
diseases of Jamaica, and obtained his clinical remarks concerning the
leading and more characteristic symptoms of the disease. You will
believe that the event has impressed upon my mind a very powerful sense
of the subtle malignity of this devouring complaint.
The patient was certainly very ill, but, to those who had not before
witnessed the disease, he did not appear to be in extreme danger; yet,
alas! on repeating our visit the following morning, we found him a cold
and yellow corpse!