Stabroek, May 6, 1796.
Previous to giving you the intelligence which reaches us at this place,
it were fit to inform you that the island of Barbadoes is now become, as
it were, the London of the West Indies—the great capital to which we
anxiously look for events, and for news. Removed to a still farther
distance from you, and without any direct communication, we seem
dependent upon this sub-metropolis; and we acquire the tidings of
England, of Europe, of the West India Islands, and of the main body of
our army, only as conveyed to us, indirectly, viâ Barbadoes.
Two vessels have arrived from thence; by which we learn that the
Commander in Chief, and the troops did not sail until the 21st of April,
being six days after the time we left Barbadoes. It was not publicly
known whether they were gone against Guadaloupe, or St. Lucie; but, from
all the circumstances of the armament, it seems now to be the current
opinion that Guadaloupe is not to be attacked during the present
campaign.
We are told that Admiral Christian arrived just before the troops
departed from Barbadoes, bringing with him twenty-seven sail of vessels,
the remnant of the immense fleet with which he originally sailed, in the
month of November!
You will not envy our walks in the neighbourhood of Stabroek, when I
tell you that the wet season is completely set in, and that from the
soil being of pure mud and clay, we cannot move a step from the door
without being ancle-deep. Such roads were scarcely ever seen; and, not
having yet an opportunity of purchasing a horse, I am compelled daily to
walk mid-leg deep in moist clay, or to drag my limbs through a path
still deeper in mud.
Since the date of my last letter, I have been witness to a gentleman
calling up one of his slaves, into the breakfast-room, and giving him
orders to go with three others into the fields, the highways, or the
woods, and cut grass, to sell in the town, charging him to recollect
that it was at the pain of a “good flogging” if they did not each bring
him home four bits[8] at night: adding, by way of encouragement, that,
if they could gain more, they might keep the surplus for themselves.
They went out, each taking a long knife and a string, and returned,
punctually, in the evening with the sixteen bits.
Unfortunately I am now enabled to speak of the punishment of a slave,
which was far more severe than that mentioned in my last letter; and, I
am sorry to add, attended with similar marks of insensibility, and want
of feeling, on the part of a white female. Happening to call one morning
upon a lady at Stabroek, in company with several Europeans who had been
my fellow-passengers hither, we were scarcely seated before we heard the
clang of the whip, and the painful cries of an unfortunate black. The
lady of the house, more accustomed to scenes of slavery than ourselves,
pointing to the spot, as if it were a pleasant sight for strangers, or
something that might divert us, asked, with apparent glee, if we saw
them “_flogging the negre_!” Truly we saw the whole too clearly. A poor
unhappy slave was stretched out naked, upon the open street, tied down,
with his face to the ground, before the fiscal’s door, his two legs
extended to one stake, his arms strained out, at full length, to two
others in form of the letter Y, and, thus secured to the earth, two
strong-armed drivers[9], placed at his sides, were cutting his bare
skin, by turns, with long heavy-lashed whips, which, from the sound,
alone, without seeing the blood that followed, conveyed the idea of
tearing away pieces of flesh at every stroke.
I am exceedingly happy to be able to relieve you from this painful
scene, by presenting to you one of a very opposite nature—one in which
every feeling of your heart will warmly participate. A party of recently
arrived Europeans went to dine at “Arcadia;” the plantation of a Mr.
Osborn, about eight miles from Stabroek. Five slaves were sent, with a
handsome covered boat, to conduct us thither. We had a most pleasant
sail, about six miles up the river; and, then, we were drawn about two
miles further, by the negroes running at the side of the canal, leading
to the estate, singing all the way, and pulling, in merry tune,
together. On our arrival at Mr. Osborn’s, we were presented with wine,
fruits, and various refreshments; and, afterwards, were amused, till
dinner-time, in viewing the coffee plantation, the negro-yard, and the
different premises. At dinner we shared all the good things of the
colony, and, in the afternoon, were conducted across the canal to visit
the estate, and happy home of Mr. Dougan, a neighbour whom Mr. Osborn
had invited to meet us. Here we found a rich sugar plantation bordered
with coffee and fruits.
I cannot express how much we were interested and gratified with all we
saw at this cheerful abode of Mr. Dougan. The plantation is laid out
with much taste, and having every advantage of culture, it exhibits, in
high perfection, all the luxuriance of an opulent tropical estate.
Utility, comfort, and convenience, are here most happily combined. A
private canal leads through the middle of the grounds, and serves for
ornament and pleasure, as well as for bringing home the copious harvests
of coffee and sugar.
At its sides are smooth walks of grass; and between these and the
sugar-canes are borders planted with all the choice tropical fruits,
rendering a promenade upon the water, or its banks, most fragrant and
inviting, and offering to the eye and the palate all the variety of
oranges, shaddocks, forbidden fruit, citrons, limes, lemons, cherries,
custard-apples, cashew-apples, avagata-pears, grenadilloes,
water-lemons, mangoes, and pines. The other walks, which traverse the
plantation, are also cool and sweet-smelling avenues of fruit-trees.
But however great the richness, beauty, and fragrance of the estate, its
canals, and its walks, still I am sensible that I shall more firmly
secure your attachment to it, by mentioning the simple fact that, to the
slaves it affords ... a happy home!
I know not whether, upon any occasion, since my departure from England,
I have experienced such heart-felt pleasure as in witnessing the high
degree of comfort and happiness enjoyed by the slaves of “Profit.” Mr.
Dougan not only grants them many little indulgences, and studies to make
them happy, but he fosters them with a father’s care, whilst they,
sensible of his tenderness towards them, look to their revered master as
a kind and affectionate parent; and, with undivided—unsophisticated
attachment, cheerfully devote, to him, their labour and their lives.
Not satisfied with bestowing upon his negroes mere food and raiment, Mr.
Dougan establishes for them a kind of right. He assures to them certain
property, endeavours to excite feelings of emulation among them, and to
inspire them with a spirit of neatness and order, not commonly known
among blacks; and I rejoice to add that the effects of his friendly
attentions, towards them, are strongly manifested in their persons,
their dwellings, and their general demeanour. Perhaps it were not too
much to say, that the negro-yard at “Profit” forms one of the happiest
villages within the wide circle of the globe!
The slaves of Mr. Dougan are not only fed, and clothed, and tenderly
watched in sickness, without any personal thought, or concern; but each
has his appropriate spot of ground, and his cottage, in which he feels a
right as sacred as if secured to him by all the seals and parchments of
the Lord High Chancellor of England, and his court.
Happy and contented, the slave of “Profit” sees all his wants supplied:
never having been in a state of freedom, he has no desire for it: not
having known liberty, he feels not the privation of it; nor is it within
the powers of his mind either to conceive or comprehend the sense we
attach to the term. Were freedom offered to him he would refuse to
accept it, and would only view it as a state fraught with certain
difficulties and vexations, but offering no commensurate good. “_Who gib
me for gnyhaam Massa_,” he asks, “_if me free?_” “_Who gib me clothes?_”
“_Who send me a doctor when me sick?_”
With industry a slave has no acquaintance; nor has he any knowledge of
the kind of comfort and independence which derive from it. Ambition has
not taught him that, in freedom, he might escape from poverty; nor has
he any conception that by improving his intellect he might become of
higher importance in the scale of humanity. Thus circumstanced, to
remove him from the quiet and contentment of such a bondage, and to
place him amidst the tumults and vicissitudes of freedom, were but to
impose upon him the exchange of great comparative happiness, for much of
positive difficulty and distress.
From what has been said you will perceive that it is difficult to do
justice to the merit of Mr. Dougan. His humane and liberal conduct does
him infinite honor; while the richness of the estate and the happiness
of the slaves loudly proclaim his attentive concern.
The cottages and little gardens of the negroes exhibited a degree of
neatness, and plenty, which might be envied by free-born Britons, not of
the poorest class. The huts of Ireland, Scotland, France, Germany, and
many, even of England itself, bear no comparison with these. In
impulsive delight I ran into several of them, surprising the slaves with
an unexpected visit. They mostly consist of a comfortable sitting-room,
and a clean, well-furnished bedchamber. In one I observed a high
bedstead, according to the present European fashion, with deep
mattresses, all nicely made up, and covered with a clean white
counterpane; the bed-posts, drawers, and chairs bearing the polish of
well-rubbed mahogany. I felt a desire to pillow my head in this hut for
the night, it not having fallen to my lot, since I left England, to
repose on so inviting a couch. The value of the whole was tenfold
augmented by the contented slaves being able to say, “All this we feel
to be our own.”
Too often in regarding the countenance of a slave, it may be observed
that
“Dark Melancholy sits, and round her throws
A death-like silence, and a dread repose,”
but throughout Mr. Dougan’s happy gang the more striking features are
those of mirth and glee; for, here, the merry dance and jovial song
prevail, and all are votaries to joy and harmony.
Before the doors of the huts, and around these peaceful dwellings were
seen great numbers of pigs, and poultry, which the slaves are allowed to
raise for their own profit; and from the stock, thus bred in the
negro-yard, the master usually purchases the provisions of his table,
paying the common price for which they would be sold at the market.
The conduct of Mr. Osborn to his slaves, and, indeed, of many others I
might mention, is also very highly commendable. The negroes at Arcadia
have much cause of contentment; their happiness and welfare being
guarded with a parental care. Were all masters kind and humane as Mr.
Dougan, and his neighbour, the peasants of Europe, although blessed with
freedom, might sigh, in vain, for the happiness enjoyed——by slaves.
Owing to the tide being out, at the time we returned, there was not
sufficient water in the canal to admit of our going down in the boat; we
were compelled, therefore, to walk nearly two miles before we embarked.
During this walk, we were almost in danger of being devoured by the
musquitoes, which attacked us in such daring hosts that we were obliged
to carry small boughs in our hands, and to continue, the whole time,
beating them from our legs and faces.
The fire-flies were, scarcely, less numerous; but, notwithstanding the
annoyance we suffered by their flying against us, they inflicted no
pain. They neither tormented us with bites, nor stings; but in such
myriads did they dart and play about us, that it appeared as if we were
walking in an atmosphere filled with moving stars. One piece of coffee,
in particular, had its whole surface so illumined by these insects, as
to convey the idea of the field being overspread with fire. After going
into the boat, and proceeding towards the middle of the river, both
fire-flies and musquitoes forsook us; and we were pleasantly rowed down
to the town by four of Mr. Osborn’s contented slaves.