"I would not have a slave to till my ground,
To carry me, to fan me while I sleep,
And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth
That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd."
Cowper.
From the reciprocation of the heart's best affections, which had
marked the short period of Samboe's acquaintance with Frank, we may
now follow the young stranger to the inanity of an Anglo West Indian
boudoir; in which were Mrs. Penryn, reclined on a chaise longue, a
young lady spangling some delicate muslin, and Mr. Frederick Moreton
standing at a distant part of the room. The footman having opened the
door, pointed to Samboe to enter, and immediately closed it upon him,
leaving the timid boy to the scrutinizing looks of Mrs. Penryn, the
oblique attention of the young lady, and the supercilious glance of the
boy, who was engaged in the humane employment of holding a live mouse
by the tail, as high as his arm could reach; while a kitten, eagerly
attending to its writhings, kept springing, instinctively, to catch
it, and as often, from the violence of the exertion, fell back on the
floor. Had it not been for the chill which pervaded his frame, in his
way to this apartment, Samboe might have thought himself in the West
Indies, both as to the temperature, and the luxurious ease displayed
in the arrangement of it. An elegant Persian carpet, entirely covered
it; sofas, ottomans, and couches, invited to indolence and repose;
ornaments of the richest and most expensive materials, vases, cabinets,
&c. adorned it; and a number of tropical birds, of beauteous plumage,
displayed their captive state in superb cages of various elegant forms;
while shells of great magnitude and exquisite beauty were displayed
in different parts of this superb room, with considerable judgment
and taste; and a rich glow seemed communicated to every object, from
the light passing the draperies of beautiful rose-coloured taffety
curtains. Plants of the loveliest bloom and most exquisite odour,
completed the fascinations of this luxurious apartment, tastefully
arranged in beautiful baskets and vases, reflected by the superb
mirrors, of which there were several on each side of the room.
Mrs. Penryn, half raising her pale and spiritless form from the
sofa on which she was reclining, was the first to break the silence
which followed Samboe's introduction. "Come, Fred, do give Frolic the
mouse, and look at this boy. He will serve to amuse you, I hope; for
I think the dogs, the cats, the mice, and the flies, have had enough
of you. Come, did you ever behold such an uncouth creature as George
has made him: why the boy looks as if he were in a wooden case. He
must not appear about you, till he has something fit to put on."
This feeling harangue did not divert the young gentleman from his
amusement for some minutes, till at length, more it would seem from
his own fatigue, than from any motive of compassion for the poor
animals, he gave the cat its natural prey; and it retired swearing,
as its murmur of triumph is styled, to enjoy the feast, under a sofa
at the further part of the room. "Now, Lavinia," said Mrs. Penryn,
addressing the young lady, "give us your opinion, my dear; your taste
is so good: what dress shall we have for Fred's page? He will like
whatever you decide upon, I dare say."
"Dear me, do you think so?" replied Miss Lavinia, in the most affected
tone: "Mr. Frederick seldom asks my opinion, I think."
"He is but a boy, and you will excuse him, I'm sure; but really this
dress must be left to you."
"Certainly," replied Lavinia, "he must have something different from
that he now wears, which is only fit for the stable."
"And a very good place too, I think," remarked the polite young
gentleman, as he threw himself at his length on a sofa, rousing by
the action a little white terrier, which had been reposing quietly
upon it. The dog uttered a cry, and jumped on the floor.
"Poor Erminet cannot be quiet even here," said Mrs. Penryn, angrily:
"I wish, Fred, you would look before you lie down: I dare say you
have lamed my pretty Erminet."
"I dare say I have done no such thing," retorted the respectful nephew:
"But I have no desire to stay, I assure you. I am sure, though Lavinia
talks of the stable, I had rather be there, than shut up in this hot
room. So make haste and determine about the boy's dress, for I cannot
stay shilly-shally here all day."
"I wonder when you will learn to be civil," said Mrs. Penryn: "I think,
if you had had a few lessons of politeness interspersed with Greek
and Latin, it would have made you more agreeable." "That is all you
women know of the matter. But let me have no preaching. Have you done
with me?"
"Why, Fred, how provoking you are: did you not bid me send for the
boy? And now he is come, you want to go without settling any thing
about him. Remember, he is your property, and you must do what you
please about him. I shall trouble myself no more about him."
"Very well, then leave it alone," said the young barbarian; and
striding past the trembling Samboe, he quitted the room, shutting
the door with violence after him.
"What a pity it is," said Mrs. Penryn, after a short pause, "that
Frederick is so hasty: such a good-hearted lad as he is. I wish,
Lavinia, you would undertake to soften down his manners: he is really
worth your trouble, my dear girl."
The young lady simpered, half blushed, expressed her doubt of having
any influence over Mr. Frederick, who was, indeed, a fine manly
boy. There was nothing she could refuse to dear Mrs. Penryn and her
guardian, and she would certainly endeavour to please Frederick,
that she might refine his manners a little.
"Well, begin then, my dear girl, and fix upon a tasty dress for the
boy. I know Fred will be pleased when it is done. I intend Samboe to
be his constant attendant: he is to sleep in the little anti-room,
to be ever at hand to attend Frederick's pleasure; and, in short,
he is to do what he pleases respecting him. Mr. Penryn says he will
have hundreds under his power when he goes to Jamaica."
This reference to the taste of Lavinia, was the dictate of policy;
for she was recently become a ward of Mr. Penryn, was an orphan
of immense property, and only a few years older than Frederick. The
prudent Mr. and Mrs. Penryn were very desirous to favour an attachment
between them; and Mrs. Penryn was directed, by her husband, to seek
every opportunity of doing so.
The young lady was of that negative character, so often met
with amongst those who, in large boarding-schools, lose every
discriminating trait in the general application of certain rules and
certain pursuits. Dress, admiration, and gaiety, alone had power to
animate her pretty features; from which, however, no intellectual ray
ever beamed. She was highly flattered by the desire of Mrs. Penryn to
exercise her taste in the choice of a dress for Samboe. That choice
could not be difficult, for one who had so frequently seen the variety
of costume exhibited on the stage; and as vanity, ostentation, and
singularity, not congruity, were to dictate the choice, it was soon
fixed, as the young lady thought, of that elegant form and expensive
material, which could not fail to please the young planter; and it
must be owned, that when, a few days subsequent, Samboe made his
appearance in the elegant costume of Persia, that he exhibited a very
fair specimen of juvenile negro beauty. The blue and silver vest and
caftan, the full girdle, the capacious trowsers, and the perfectly
white turban, with its golden cord and sparkling gems, contrasted well
with his sable skin and slender form; giving a lightness to his air,
which even the pressure of slavery was not able materially to injure.
Lavinia's taste was loudly applauded; and even Frederick condescended
to say the boy looked something like what he ought to do. But
poor Samboe, like many a white boy and girl, felt the misery of
fine clothes, being continually reminded that he must not do this,
he must not lie there, lest he should soil his dress.
His young master would never suffer him out of his sight: not that
he cared a button for him or his clothes, but because he could not
allow of any cessation in tormenting a poor being over whom he had
full controul; and he was continually racking his invention, to
devise some new species of torment and teasing. With a mean species
of jealousy, as soon as he found Frank the stable-boy was the only
kind being who regarded the poor black boy as a fellow-creature, he
interdicted Samboe from ever going into the stable, or from speaking
to his good-tempered friend.
This was a cruel stroke to poor Samboe, thus to deprive him of the
only portion of comfort in his bitter draught of slavery. His mind
was in danger of becoming callous from oppression, and in proportion
to the degradation he was subjected to. He had no motive for action,
but the dread of punishment. Without voluntary agency, a mere passive
instrument in the hands of others, his mind would assuredly have become
irrecoverably contracted, and the powers of soul even destroyed,
had not the very tyranny and caprice which were producing these
lamentable results, transferred the suffering boy to the benevolent
care of Captain Tremayne, and his young nephew, Charles Roslyn. (See
"Twilight Hours improved.")
Become the property of the latter by the hasty gift of Frederick,
how different was the lot of Samboe, from a state of cruel coercion,
of degrading slavery, which was daily debasing every manly sentiment!
"When, to deep sadness sullenly resign'd,
He feels his body's bondage in his mind,
Put off his generous nature, and to suit
His manners with his fate, put on the brute."
Such, indeed, is slavery most justly termed, "the grave of
virtue." Under its cold and ungenial influence, every generous, every
warm emotion must languish and die. Through the gloom which envelopes
the soul subjected to its dark power, no ray of intellect, no beam
of joy, no sun of cheerfulness can pierce. And yet man, inconsistent
man, while condemning his fellow-being to this soul-paralyzing state,
expects from the poor victims qualities and virtues only to be planted
in the soil, only to be nourished by the sun, of liberty--of Christian
liberty, of Christian charity:
"For slaves by truth enlarg'd are doubly freed."