Berbische, July 12.
You will be surprised to hear of my having already made another river
excursion; but I before mentioned to you that we had intended visiting
the estate of Mynheer Roboloski, on our return from M. Heynemann’s: not
being able to effect it then, and afterwards receiving a pressing
renewal of the invitation by some friends of M. Roboloski, who came to
pass a day with the officers at the fort, I availed myself of the
opportunity of returning with these gentlemen, in company with Captain
Maxwell. We dined on our way, at the plantation Zuidwyk; one of the most
pleasant and improved spots on the bank of the river. M. Linde, the
gentleman we went to see, was indisposed, but he was inspired with
health on seeing a party of unexpected visitors, and entertained us with
all the glad welcome of the colony, most cordially inviting us to
prolong our visit.
Zuidwyk is a coffee plantation. It is well cultivated, and rich in
fruits. The house is spacious, and, standing at a pleasant distance from
the river, with the ground ornamented and improved, it not only appears
respectable, but conveys the idea of importance.
We were most gladly received by M. Roboloski, who, in his attentions
towards us, seemed anxious to rival all the friendly hospitality we had
experienced. Every mark of distinction and respect was conferred upon
us, and a liberal supply of all the best things of the house and estate
was served for our entertainment. When we were at table, slaves were
placed at our elbows to wave lime-boughs, in order to defend us from the
insects; and, in the evening, we were set down to cards with two or
three negroes burning lime-sprigs around us, while others were placed
with green branches to chase away the musquitoes, as well as to serve us
with copious libations from an adjoining table, which was spread with
wine, punch, sangaree, and various rich liqueurs. At going to bed, and
at rising, slaves attended us with water for our feet, and were strictly
enjoined to kneel down, and wash them: nor were we suffered to encounter
_the fatigue_ of stooping, or permitted to wet our hands in so humble an
office.
It happened that I expressed a desire to make the tour of the estate, in
order to observe its extent and cultivation. The wish scarcely had
utterance before orders were given for the favorite horse of M.
Roboloski to be brought to the door. I had intended myself a pedestrian
ramble, but was not permitted to engage in such “excessive fatigue.” Old
grey was quickly led out, and appeared before the window; when the
process of putting on the best saddle, “for Mynheer,” and arranging the
gay trappings became the business of no less than six slaves, and
occupied them for nearly an hour and a half, forming a truly diverting
and ludicrous scene. The head, the neck, each side, and the very tail of
the animal had its appropriate negro. The bridle, the crupper, the
girths and stirrups, each occupied a separate slave, all hurrying in the
full bustle of attentive exertion. At length the ponderous saddle was
miserably fixed, and, without attempting to instruct the master or
correct the slaves, I mounted upon _the neck_ of old grey, and soberly
trotted round the plantation. At every angle or turning I met with a
fresh slave who had been stationed there in readiness to run after my
horse, and to direct and attend me whithersoever I might wish to bend my
way: but as neither old grey nor myself, were inclined to advance with
great speed, all my running footmen were able to keep pace with me, so
that before I had completed my journey, I had collected quite a host of
attendants, and found myself moving amidst a naked and numerous throng.
Together with a natural sprightliness, and vivacity of temper, M.
Roboloski is generous and hospitable to an extreme. All that was rare
was presented to us while we remained; besides which, numberless
offerings were heaped upon us at our departure, and he would have given
us more than we could carry away. The whole produce of his house and
estate: all he had, his _Wowski_ excepted, was at our command. On
leaving him he loaded us with fruits, pickles, Tonquin beans, and other
good things; and it was with difficulty that we prevented him from
depriving himself of even the comforts of his home for our
accommodation. Towards his slaves he is extremely rigid, and holds them
in very strict subjection; but, with the many good qualities he
possesses, it cannot be suspected that cruelty has any share in his
government. Unhappily, with the most liberal and generous nature, he has
an unfortunate disposition which torments him with all the harrowing
pangs of a dark and imbittering passion. Kind and attentive as he is
both to his friends and to strangers, he knows neither peace, nor
comfort, whilst they are in the house, from his mind being incessantly
tortured with the dread suspicion that a disgusting black woman, whom he
keeps as his wife, may be seized with a fit of inconstancy, and share
her joys with others. He, therefore, locks her up stairs while his
visitors are with him, and keeps the key of the door in his pocket. To
such excess, indeed, does he carry his jealousy, as to employ a young
slave in the house, for the express purpose of watching the poor hideous
woman’s conduct, and reporting to him every look and action.
The day after our return from M. Roboloski’s, we witnessed one of the
great and awful scenes of a West India climate—one of those convulsions
of the weather, which convey the idea of enraged elements warring to
reduce all nature again to chaos. It is not easy for any one, who is
acquainted only with the soft breezes and showers of Europe, to conceive
the terrific grandeur which is sometimes exhibited by a storm within the
tropics.
Another very grand, but awful and afflicting scene has occurred to our
notice in the funeral obsequies of one of our comrades; an officer of
artillery, who had suffered an attack of yellow fever, and from exposing
himself to fatigue and late hours during his convalescence, brought on a
relapse which quickly deprived his country of his services, and us of
his society. Warlike honors were done to his remains. The funeral was
conducted with all the splendid and heart-moving parade of a military
procession; which forms one of the most awful ceremonies that the eye or
imagination can contemplate; but under the circumstances of our present
situation it is too solemnly impressive to be practised without the risk
of injury; for I have had occasion to remark that, in its effects, it
threatens ills beyond the wholesome grief of the moment. The
associations arising from the gloomy spectacle operate so powerfully
upon the minds of those who are fearful of disease, as to endanger
serious illness. The slow march, with the arms of war inverted; the
doleful music; the sable hollow-sounding drum; and the thrice-vollied
farewell, added to the common rites of sepulture, augment the
distressful feelings natural to the occasion, and beget a degree of
melancholy which not only sinks the soul with grief, but reduces the
body within the pale of disease; and hence, although it be a grand and
honorable observance, which may be attended with beneficial effects at
certain times, or under certain circumstances, it would appear to be too
dispiriting to be indiscriminately exhibited on service, particularly in
a climate where the body is highly predisposed to sickness, and the mind
held in a state of depression from the sudden and multiplied ravages of
disease; and where the sense of honor which attaches to the ceremony is
more than counterbalanced by the sad impression that the person who
views it may, in the course of only a few hours, be himself the
unconscious object of similar parade.
Two of the officers who attended the funeral, although as brave men as
ever unsheathed a sword, were thrown into a state of despondency which
nearly cost them their lives. Overwhelmed with grief for the fate of
their comrade, and fearfully apprehensive of disease, the afflicting
ceremony produced a degree of depression from which they had no power of
rallying. All their military spirit, and manly firmness were subdued,
and under the weight of inconsolable sadness, they were rapidly sinking
into a state of sickness, from which they felt hopeless of recovery. One
of them, who with the spirit of the lion, possesses the heart of a lamb,
being wholly unable to suppress the overflowings of his sorrow, was seen
day by day to shed tears, like an infant. Change of place became
necessary to their relief; they were accordingly permitted to quit the
fort for a time, and happily by diversity of scene, and absence from the
grief-exciting spot, the dangers which threatened them were averted, and
their usual health and spirits restored.
The wet season is now declining, and we are led to look for much
increase of sickness during the subsequent months.
Not to fatigue you with a minute detail of the appearances, on the
examination of our lost comrade, I may briefly observe that in the
stomach they have hitherto been uniform, but in the other viscera very
uncertain and dissimilar. With respect to the symptoms of the disorder,
we now discover much instability. Either vomiting, low delirium,
singultus, or coma, with or without yellowness of the skin, forms the
prominent feature—each in its turn seeming to give the character of a
distinct disease; but all terminating, within a few days, in the usual
manner.