exclaimed W., with an asseverating thump upon the table. “There _is_
an infernal, malicious, aggravating little demon, hovers up aloft
about us, wherever we go, ready to magnify any mischief, and deepen
every disaster. Sure I am he hovered about me! The cloths came--but
as soon as I began to wipe briskly, bang again went ‘t’other bottle,’
and uncorked itself before it was called for. I shall never forget the
sound! Pop, whiz, fiz, whish--ish--slish--slosh--slush--guggle, guggle,
guggle: I’d rather have been at the exploding of the Dartford Powder
Mills! At the first report I turned hastily round, but by so doing,
I only diverted the _jet_ from the open cases on the counter, to the
show-trays in the shop window, filled with Tweedie’s choicest cutlery;
and as I completed the pirouette, I favoured Tweedie himself with the
tail of the spout!”
“Very unpleasant, indeed,” said the drysalter, with a hard wink, as if
the fussy fluid had flown in his own face.
“Unpleasant!” ejaculated W., “it was unendurable! I could have cut my
throat with one of the wet razors--I could have stabbed myself with a
pair of the splashed scissors! The mess was frightful--bright steel
buckles, buttons, clasps, rings, all cut and polished--I saw Tweedie
himself shake his head as he looked at the chains and some of the
delicate articles. It wasn’t a time to stand upon words, and I believe
I cursed and swore like a trooper. I know I stamped about, for I went
on the lady’s foot, and that made me worse than ever. Tweedie says I
raved; and I do remember I cursed myself for talking of ginger-beer,
as well as Hopkins for not keeping it in his house. At last I got
so rampant, that even the lady began to console me, and as she had
a particularly sweet voice and manner, and Tweedie too, trying to
make things comfortable, I began to hear reason: but if ever I carry
ginger-beer again in my pocket, along Cheapside----”
“Till you’re a widower,” said I.
“I was coming to that, Sir,” continued W., still addressing the
drysalter. “I insisted on putting the lady into a coach, and by that
means obtained her address, and as common politeness dictated, I
afterwards called and was well received. A new green silk dress was
graciously accepted, and a white one afterwards met with the same kind
indulgence, when the lady condescended to be Mrs. Walker. Our fortunes,
Sir, in this world, hinge frequently on trifles. Through an explosion
of pop I thus popped into a partner with a pretty fortune; but for all
that, I would not have any man, like the Persian in Hajji Baba, mistake
a mere accident for the custom of the country. For Cœlebs in Search of
a Wife to walk up and down Cheapside with a bottle of ginger-beer in
his pocket, would be Quixotic in the extreme.”
[Illustration: MILL’S HISTORY OF THE CRUSADES.]
SEA SONG.
AFTER DIBDIN.
Pure water it plays a good part in
The swabbing the decks and all that--
And it finds its own level for sartin--
For it sartinly drinks very flat:--
For my part a drop of the creature
I never could think was a fault,
For if Tars should swig water by nature
The sea would have never been salt!--
Then off with it into a jorum,
And make it strong, sharpish, or sweet,
For if I’ve any sense of decorum
It never was meant to be neat!--
One day when I was but half sober,--
Half measures I always disdain--
I walk’d into a shop that sold Soda,
And ax’d for some Water Champagne;--
Well, the lubber he drew and he drew, boys,
Till I’d shipped my six bottles or more,
And blow off my last limb but it’s true, boys,
Why, I warn’t half so drunk as afore!--
Then off with it into a jorum,
And make it strong, sharpish, or sweet,
For if I’ve any sense of decorum
It never was meant to be neat.
[Illustration: A BOTTLE JACK.]
[Illustration]
THE BLACK AND WHITE QUESTION.
“The game is made, gentlemen, choose your colour.”
Amongst the many important topics which at present excite a popular
interest, must be reckoned the great question whether the West Indian
apprentices ought or ought not to be considered ought of their time?
A subject presenting such very strong lights and shadows, necessarily
produces a powerful and Rembrandt-like effect on the public mind;
nevertheless, it is only lately and accidentally, that I have been
induced to look critically into the colouring and handling of the
picture. It is not my wont to walk wilfully on Debatable Ground; but in
the present instance, I was seduced involuntarily into the dangerous
confines of “all we love and all we hate,” the borderland, where party
contends with party.
A few days ago, I was giving an order to a tradesman in the
Strand--_not far from Warren’s_--when, to the utter surprise and
disconcertment of the master of the shop, a poor African stepped in
from the street, and, with an obsequious bow, made an offer of his
sable services for a term of years.
[Illustration: “MASSA, YOU WANT A ’PRENTICE?”]
It would require a far better artist than myself to do justice to the
scene which ensued on so unusual an application. The late Elia, in his
Essay on “Imperfect Sympathies,” has alluded to the natural repugnance
of the pale faces to the dark ones. “In the negro countenance,” he
says, “you will often meet with strong traits of benignity. I have
felt yearnings of tenderness towards some of these faces, or rather
masks, that have looked out kindly upon one in casual encounters in
the streets and highways. I love what Fuller beautifully calls ‘these
images of God cut in ebony.’ But I should not like to associate with
them--to share my meals and my good-nights with them--because they are
black.” Such a feeling is truly an imperfect sympathy, but my Strand
shopkeeper evidently went beyond the essayist, and regarded “the
nigger” with a positive antipathy. “A good horse,” says the proverb,
“cannot be of a bad colour,” but I could not help feeling that a good
man might be of an unfortunate complexion, howbeit, of a hue which
wears well, washes well, does not fly, and, moreover, hides the dirt.
So far from being able to endure a moor as his companion, the master
tradesman could not look upon him as fit to be his subordinate. The
mere possibility of such a connexion had never occurred to him, or
assuredly, to the advertisement in the window for an apprentice, he
would have added “a White will be preferred,” or “No African need
apply.” In the meantime, it was sufficiently obvious that, even if
indentured, a Hottentot would never be “treated as one of the family.”
Whilst the master stared an unequivocal rejection, his wife looked
over his shoulder at the applicant, with all the _physical_ expression
in her countenance, of the anticipation of a black dose; the little
boy took fright and tried to bolt; the baby even set its infantine
face against the adoption, and the very dog barked and growled at the
intruder as at a breed that was vermin. The result of such a scrutiny
needs hardly to be told; the poor candidate was unanimously blackballed
to his face, and recommended, unceremoniously, to make himself as
scarce as a swan of the same complexion.
It will do me no credit, I fear, with our active Abolitionists, to
confess, that the above little incident set me seriously thinking, for
the first time, on the condition of the Negro Apprentices. In addition
to my dread of becoming a _sidesman_--and there is a spirit abroad
which can convert even a black suit into a party-coloured one--I
am too apt to take matters upon trust, and to suppose that the name
stands for the thing. Thus, in my simple belief, the outward-bound and
the homeward-bound apprentices, conformed to the same or nearly the
same articles; and if I thought at all of the sable ones, it was as
walking abroad on Sundays, drest in all their best, only with Phœbe
or Miss Diana, instead of “Sally in our Alley.” A common sense of
the eternal principles of justice helped, beside, to mislead me; for
who, with a drachm of philosophy, or a scruple of Christianity, could
suppose, that whilst the accidents of colour are overlooked in a good
horse, the moral qualities of a human being were weighed down by such
skin-deep casualties as occur every day in a baker’s oven? The scene
in the Strand, however, aroused certain misgivings; and for the mere
repose of my mind, it became necessary to procure further information,
in order to come to a settled opinion on the subject. To this end, it
was desirable to obtain the sentiments of a Black Apprentice, or at
least of a Black, and of an Apprentice, and fortune favoured me in the
search. Having delivered my instructions to the tradesman, it occurred
to me to pay an overdue visit to a decayed kinswoman in the same
neighbourhood, and in whose family affairs I took a friendly interest.
She happened to be at home; and after a preliminary conversation on the
weather, and Mr. Murphy, and the current news of the day, the discourse
turned on her son Richard, whom she had recently articled to an
architect; she had doubts, she said, of his being exactly comfortable
in his situation, but it was no fault of hers, as he had been placed in
it at his own urgent instances, in proof whereof she handed to me the
following letter:--
MY DEAR MOTHER,
This is to say I am in good health and quite comfortable, and as
happy as can be expected away from home. I like being an architect
very much. All the work I have had to do for the last fortnight,
has been to copy a drawing of a gate for a Porter’s Lodge, and to
look over portfolios of nice prints. My master is very kind, and
lets me fill up my time at over-hours how I like. I always dine
with him and Mrs. G., and have plenty to eat of whatever I prefer.
Last Sunday we had leg of lamb and asparagus, and a pigeon pie,
and a tart, besides a glass of wine afterwards. I’m allowed to sit
up to supper because I said I liked music, for Mr. G. plays on the
flute, and Mrs. G. sings to the piano. He is a very good man, and
she is a very motherly good woman; and the other night, because it
was so cold, I had a tumbler of hot elder wine. For the present I
sleep in the best spare bed till my own is got ready for me--and
when company comes I’m not sent off to it, but played last night
with the visitors till twelve o’clock, and they won all my pocket
money. I do hope and pray you won’t forget to send me some more, as
there’s another party next week. Altogether, I could not be better
off for food, or amusement, or any thing, so that I needn’t be any
longer on liking, as I like it very much, and am agreeable to be
bound as soon as you and master think proper; and I do hope you
won’t stick about the premium, as you seemed to think it a great
deal--but consider the treatment. Give my kind love to everybody,
and accept the same yourself, from, dear mother, your dutiful and
affectionate son,
RICHARD RUGGLES.
P.S.--Mr. and Mrs. G. desire their best compliments--they are
always asking about you in the most friendly way. Pray remember
what I said about the premium, as I could never be so happy
anywhere else, or make such progress in my profession.
It may be supposed that I did not read the above effusion throughout,
without a smile on my countenance; but the mother gravely shook her
head, and said she had now to submit to me a very different statement,
whereupon with a sigh, and a reflection on the duplicity of the world
in general, and of architects in particular, she placed in my hands,
Protocol No. 2.
DEAR MOTHER,
I am very sorry to trouble your mind with anything unpleasant,
but a great change has taken place since the articles were signed
and the premium paid down. All the being on liking has come to
a sudden end. Mr. and Mrs. G. have thrown off their masks, and
he is a cruel tyrant; and instead of being another mother to me,
she is quite the reverse. I little thought the moment I became an
apprentice I should be a complete slave, and work like a horse.
Nothing but drawing, drawing, drawing, as long as it’s light--and
next week we begin lamps. I’ve no over-hours at all except in bed,
and that’s up in the back garret, and nothing but an old flock as
hard as wood. My being a parlour boarder is all over; and as to
sitting up to music and supper, I can’t repeat, but I’m d--d up at
night that I may be down in the morning. They have not sent me as
yet to take my meals in the kitchen, but I would almost as soon,
for I’m snubb’d if I open my lips at table; and the moment the
wine comes on I’m expected to be off, and am reminded if I don’t.
As for the visitors, they take no more notice of me than they do
of the foot-boy; but what goes most to my heart is, Mr. and Mrs.
G. never ask now after your delicate health. It’s very ungrateful
after paying so handsomely, but it’s my belief he doesn’t know
anything about architecture, and only takes in young gentlemen for
the sake of their premiums. I can t help feeling very unhappy, when
I think I’ve got to run seven years to come, and do wish you would
ask Uncle William, as he’s a lawyer, whether I can’t be turned
over by legal law, or cancelled and left to my liberty. Next to
an architect, I should like, if was unbound, to be an author,
and write books; which I hope you will approve of, as it doesn’t
require any premium. But perhaps you would like to have me at home,
and to be nothing at all, with which I remain,
My dear mother, your dutiful and affectionate son,
RICHARD RUGGLES.
As the above letters are genuine, it is probable that many of my
readers, who are parents or guardians, have received similar epistles
from their sons or wards before or after their being articled to a
trade or a profession; at least there is reason to believe that the
above case is one of ordinary occurrence. Taking it, therefore, as a
fair sample of the practice in England, I was anxious to compare it
with the course of a negro apprenticeship in the colonies; and with
this view my next visit was paid to my old friend Colonel C., who had
recently arrived from Jamaica with a black “turn-over” in his service.
Having described the scene at the shop in the Strand, and explained my
errand, which, of course, subjected me to some raillery, my request was
acceded to, and Sambo was ordered to attend me to a private conference
in the study. He was a stout good-humoured African, with rather more
than the twilight intelligence allowed to the race by the late Monk
Lewis; but with all the characteristic relish for a talk with Massa,
ascribed to his brethren by the same pleasant authority. He entered
therefore into the discussion with the greatest good-will; and the
following, divested of his outlandish jargon, is the substance of his
evidence.
[Illustration: APPRENTICE ON LIKING.]
To my first question, whether he had ever betrayed any original
inclination to go into the rice, sugar, and tobacco line, he gave
a decided negative. He had no occasion, he said, to labour for a
livelihood, having been in his own country an independent black
prince, and heir-apparent, as I understood him, to the king of the
Eboes. He acknowledged, however, that he could neither read nor
write, and consequently had never applied personally, or by letter,
post paid, to any Transatlantic A. B. C. or X. Y. Z., in answer to
an advertisement for an “Articled Pupil.” He was taken, he affirmed,
at unawares, and he was positive that no premium was required with
him. It appeared, however, that he had been regularly bound, but on
explanation it turned out that it had been done with rope-yarn, and the
only indentures he knew of, were on his wrists and ankles, from the
pressure of his fetters. He had a decided impression that his parents
or guardians were never applied to for their concurrence; indeed he had
no recollection of being asked for his own assent to the arrangement.
He would “take his dam” he was never carried before the Chamberlain
or any official personage invested with similar functions, and denied
ever having received the slightest hint that the binding him was
necessary to entitle him to take up his freedom. In short, contrary
to the experience of Richard Ruggles, his very first step appeared to
have been into slavery, and it was only after a long term of severe
service in the rice-field and the cane-piece that he was constituted
an apprentice. This being the point to which the public interest is
mainly directed, my enquiries here became naturally more minute, and
the evidence was proportionably circumstantial. Taking the Ruggles
letters for my guide, I was at great pains to make out something
analogous to the state of being what is called “upon liking,” but I
failed to elicit anything of the sort; and from the solemnity, not to
say awfulness, of Sambo’s asseverations, there appeared no reason to
suspect his veracity. He denied most positively and repeatedly his
dining, in any one solitary instance, with his master and mistress,
and by consequence the pleasure of taking wine with them after the
social repast. He was equally firm in disclaiming any invitation to
sit up to supper; and instead of being asked if he liked music, he
declared indignantly that his favourite instruments the kitty-katty and
the ganby had been continually broken over his own head. He totally
repudiated the notion of playing at Pope Joan with the company that
came to his master’s house; and insisted that the only notice he ever
obtained from the visitors was his being “larrupped” by every gentleman
that got drunk, and none of them ever went away sober. On the whole he
would not allow himself to have received any personal benefit from his
metamorphosis by Act of Parliament into an apprentice; no, not even
to the extent of sparing him one single cut of the cowhide. He rather
thought, on the contrary, that the prospect of his being out of his
time in so many years had operated to the prejudice of the negro, by
tempting the owner in the interim to get as much out of him, and pitch
as much into him, as possible. To conclude, I charged Sambo very home
with a question which has been much dwelt upon by certain members of
both Houses; namely, whether the blacks were “properly prepared” to
enter into a state of liberty? to which he answered very candidly,
that he had not formally examined them on the subject, but judging by
himself he should say they were quite as fit and prepared for freedom
as they had been for slavery, to which they had mostly been introduced
at an unfashionably short notice. For his own part he had been rather
suddenly emancipated by simply stepping on English ground; but the only
effect had been to inspire him with profound feelings of veneration and
gratitude towards the soil, and a most fervent wish that he could send
over a barrowful of the same earth for Black Juno and de pickaninnies
to put him foot upon in Jamakey.