In a region where favourable latitude and tempering sea-breezes combine
to produce perpetual summer, lie “the still vexed Bermoothes,” the
Bermuda of modern navigators, where one-half of the year is the fitting
seedtime for plants of the tropical, and the other half of the temperate
zones. These islands, discovered to us by a shipwreck, with one
exception, our oldest colony, offer a miniature copy of the institutions
of the parent state.
About twenty square miles of surface, consisting of one island thirty
miles long by two broad, and a half-dozen _aide-de-camp_ sort of islets,
support a population rather less numerous, and considerably less
wealthy, than that of the City of Canterbury; and enjoy the dignity of a
capital, with two thousand inhabitants; of a Governor and
Commander-in-Chief, who takes his seat on “the throne” when opening the
Bermoothean Parliament; of a Council, or miniature House of Lords, and a
Representative Assembly of thirty-six members, forming a miniature House
of Commons. They had formerly an Archdeacon, but, by one of those
extraordinary decisions that occasionally originate in high quarters,
the Archdeacon has been metamorphosed into a Bishop of Newfoundland,
whom the Bermudians never see, although they still have the honour of
paying the salary of the late Archdeacon.
Formerly Bermuda, like Virginia, from which it was an offshoot, was a
slave colony, and grew tobacco. But tobacco would not pay, and every
Bermudian, being born within a mile of the water, was bred amphibious.
Capital cedar for ship-building grows on the hills, and harbours are all
around to receive the craft when built. So it came to pass, that the
“‘Mudian” clippers became plentiful all over the neighbouring seas, and
took a large share of the carrying trade between our American colonies
and the West Indies. Even when a large slice of these said colonies had
struggled into the Republic of the United States, the ’Mudians continued
to do a good stroke of sea-faring business.
Then whales abounded in the neighbouring seas, and every ’Mudian took to
handling the oar, the lance, or the harpoon, at a time of life when
other children were driving hoops, or riding rocking-horses.
It was the natural result of these handy occupations in so limited a
space, that the whole population, with the exception of that supported
by the expenditure of the garrison, was occupied in building, or
rigging, or manning, or loading, vessels of some kind, if not whaling or
fishing. White or black, they were all sailors and sea-faring to a man,
almost to a woman. The real mermaid still lingers round Bermuda’s coast.
Breechless babies swaggered along with a mixture of long and short steps
in true jack-tar style. Bermudian young ladies directed their maids to
let out a reef in a petticoat, and officers driving tandem were bid “put
yer helm down,” by native guides.
There are no records to show when first in Bermuda sea-faring arts began
to devour all others; certain it is that just as the manufacture of
glass and porcelain, purple dye, and other signal utilities and
ornaments have been more than once discovered, lost, and re-discovered,
so were agriculture and horticulture in the year 1839 of the islands of
perpetual spring, among the lost arts. If in that year some convulsion
had for ever separated them from external communications, the process of
food-growing among a British race would have been left as rude in
theory, more imperfect in practice, than among the New Zealanders or
South Sea Islanders.
There were in that year two persons in the islands who could plough, but
they did not. Haymaking and mowing was a theory learned in books, just
as curious inquirers in Lancashire may have read of cotton cultivation.
As for the state of gardening, it was about parallel with British
gardening in the time of Queen Bess, who used to send to Holland for a
salad.
So there was neither corn nor hay, and very little fruit, of the worst
quality. A sort of bitter orange-tree abounded through the islands.
Inquisitive strangers asked “Why not graft or bud sweet oranges on these
luxuriant stocks, or why not sow sweet seeds?” But the natives were
positive that buds would not take, and seeds would not grow.
Such was Bermuda in 1839; somewhat depressed in its fishing, whaling,
ship-building, sea-carrying commerce, by the competition of New
Brunswick and the United States. Although less affected than the
sugar-growing islands by negro emancipation, still whites, who had lived
easily although barely by hiring out a few black artisans, were reduced
to sore straits.
It was in this year there arrived a new Governor. He travelled the
length and breadth of his islands, and found all green and all barren; a
light, but fertile soil, bearing fine timber, and luxuriant weeds. Round
the government house was a waste of eight acres, within sight a great
swamp. According to popular opinion, Colonial Governors are gentlemen of
broken fortunes, and strong political connections, who endure temporary
evils for the sake of future ease and dignity.
At any rate, among military martinet Governors; naval bashaw Governors;
didactic despatch-writing Governors; Governors landing with crotchets
all ready-cut and dry; Governors who support the Royal Prerogative by
quarrelling with all their subjects, and Governors whose whole soul is
in quiet and domestic economy, the popular Governor, the wise,
conciliating Governor, is indeed a rare bird. According to stereotyped
precedent, our Bermoothean Governor ought to have first sat down and
written a flaming despatch home, painting the misery of the island,
detailing his plans, and asking for money. Next he should have filled up
a scheme on a scale large enough to satisfy the ideas of a Paxton in
horticulture, or a Smith of Deanston in agriculture, and applied to his
little parliament for a vote, in order to make a garden for himself, and
a model farm for his own amusement and the benefit of the islanders.
But it happened that our “good” Governor as he was afterwards called
with good reason, was not a stereotyped Governor, so that the people he
was sent to rule became happy and prosperous. He cared not to become
either rich or famous. Therefore, all his proceedings were on a humble,
commonplace scale. Seeing that the climate was admirably adapted for
oranges; which, if of good quality, would afford a valuable export, he
sent for slips and seeds of the best kinds.
In front of Government House stands a bitter citron-tree: on this, with
his own hands, he budded a sweet orange. The bud, contrary to all
Bermudian opinions, sprouted, and grew, and flourished. After the living
example of the Governor’s tree, it became a fashion—a rage—to bud sweet
oranges; so by this simple and short cut an horticultural revolution was
effected. Still working out the maxim that example is better than
precept, our good Governor beat up for gardener recruits, accepting
those who knew a little as well as those who knew nothing, but were
willing to learn. With their aid, and at his own expense, the eight
acres of waste round his residence, Mount Langton, were converted into a
pleasure-ground, adorned with plants and shrubs of the tropical and
temperate zones, which he threw open freely to the inhabitants without
distinction of colour.
The next step was to drain the great marsh, the Langton Marsh, and grow
hay upon it, so as to give the Bermudians a hint on the oddness of
importing hay, while fine grass land lay waste. Two men who could plough
were discovered, and pupils put under their hands; at the same time
ploughs were imported. Having, out of his own pocket, offered prizes for
garden flowers and vegetables, for corn and hay, for the best ploughman,
and the best scytheman, the performances of these two being as wonderful
to the islanders as skating to an Indian prince, or wine-making to a
Yorkshireman, the Local Parliament willingly voted other prizes for the
same purpose.
It would take up too much time to detail all the good Governor’s
efforts—by example, by instruction, by rewards, by distribution of
books, and by the promotion of industrial schools, to educate the rising
generation of Bermuda in useful, civilising arts.
A grand holiday, held in May, 1846, showed that these efforts had not
been without pleasant and practical results.
Mount Langton and all the pleasure-grounds created under the personal
inspection and at the expense of the good Governor, were crowded with a
noisy happy population, of all ranks, all ages, and all colours, black,
white, and brown, assembled to enjoy and celebrate the taking stock of
the revived Industry of the islands. Not equal in variety to the great
Parisian Exposition, or in quality to the Royal Agricultural Shows, it
was still an era in the history of the colony.
The Queen’s representative did not grudge to give up for the occasion
his private domain, as that was the best site in the Island. Amid the
luxuriant shrubs and gorgeous tropical flowers, the gay groups wandered;
sweetly the sounds of the regimental band intermingled with the shouts
and whip-crackings of the contending ploughmen as they turned up the
brown furrows of long neglected soil, and with the switching of
twenty-five scythe-men exhibiting their newly acquired skill on the
drained pasture of Langton Marsh. Below lay the shipping in harbour, and
far beyond the golden purple ocean was dotted over with the cloud-like
canvas of the famous ’Mudian craft. Almost at once—one glance—it was
possible to take in a view of the pursuits of old and young Bermuda.
Government House was closed;—to have entertained the thousands who had
assembled (beyond the needful supply of cold water found in huge jars
and tubs in every shady place, a provision so grateful under a tropical
sun,) was impossible; to have entertained a part—an exclusive few—on
such an occasion, would have been contrary to the Governor’s principles;
so for that day all personal attendants were enabled to share in the
universal holiday.
In due time after the ploughing and mowing matches, came the competition
in turnips, strawberries, potatoes, dahlias, barley, potherbs, flax, and
cabbages, and the parading and comparison of horse-colts, ass-colts,
calves, heifers, bulls, sows, and boars.
Now, before the advent of this reforming Governor, the Bermudians had
been accustomed to no other competition than that of sailing or cricket
matches or steeple-chases; to no other exhibitions than military
reviews; all excellent in their way, but now usefully varied by a kind
of competition that brought new comforts to every cottager.
Years have elapsed since the day of this well-remembered _fête_. But the
good Governor is still affectionately remembered. The Bermudians love to
show passing strangers the sweet orange-tree on Mount Langton which
still blooms a green and golden monument of plain, practical,
kind-hearted common sense. And this sketch of a remote and insignificant
dependency has been thought worth telling for the benefit, not only of
colonial Governors, but of well-meaning reformers in all parts of the
world. If we would do good we must not be content with mere talk; we
must not disdain to commence at our own doors by budding—a sweet orange
on a bitter citron.