CHAPTER XVIII.
Description of the town of St. John’s, the capital of Antigua—Situation—Arrangement of the streets—Hucksters—Houses—Springs—Small shops—Stores of the retail dealers—Grog-shops—Merchants’ stores and lumber yards—Definition of lumber—Auction sales—Scotch Row and Scotchmen—Incongruous display of goods—Fire in 1797—Ruins—Fire in 1841—Its devastations.
St. John’s, the capital of Antigua, is situated on the west side of the island, and contains about 979 houses. It is built upon a slight declivity, and commands a beautiful view of the harbour, which is one of the prettiest in the West Indies.
The town, which is well arranged, covers a space of about 150 acres of land; most of the streets are wide and well-kept, and intersect each other at right angles—the principal ones running in a straight line down to the sea. There is one peculiarity attending the construction of these streets, which is, that there are no causeways; and consequently, the pedestrian traveller has to elbow his way amid trucks and handbarrows, gigs, carriages, and horsemen, droves of cattle, or cargoes of mules, just landed from other countries, cattle-carts, or moving houses.
At the corners of the different streets are seated hucksters, (black or coloured women;)[[68]] some with their shallow trays, containing cakes of all descriptions, parched ground nuts, (the arachis hypogœa,) sugar-cakes, and other confections, and varieties of fruits and vegetables; others have piles of cottons, coloured calicoes, bright-tinted handkerchiefs, &c., placed by them, or carefully spread along the sides of the most frequented streets, to attract the eye of the passer-by. As most of the Antiguan houses are raised a few feet from the ground, which necessarily requires the use of a step or two, the hucksters are very fond of monopolizing such appurtenances; and it is no uncommon thing to be obliged to wait until they remove their different wares, before you can enter the house, or else take the chance of breaking your neck over heaps of potatoes, or come in closer contact than is advisable with bottles of ginger-drink, or pots and pans of gorgeous colours, from the well-known English potteries.
The houses are generally built of wood, painted of a white or light stone colour, with bright green jalousies, or glass windows and green Venetian blinds. The greater number have covered galleries running along the sides or fronts of them, in which the good people love to assemble in the cool of evening, and while away the hours in converse sweet, or scan over the island newspapers—two of which issue weekly from respective presses, to enlighten the worthy inhabitants as to what is passing in their little colony.
Some of these dwellings are very commodious, and make a good appearance, particularly when shaded by a few beautiful trees, or standing, as many of them do, in a small garden, embellished with Flora’s splendid children. But as for following any of the five orders in their architectural adornments, that is quite out of the question; or at least, it is an order of their own invention they prefer, and which may be called the Antiguan.
Within these last few years, a few houses have been erected, with low roofs and parapet walls; the usual plan is to have that necessary part of the dwelling raised in the fashion of an English barn, or an Egyptian pyramid. One peculiarity which strikes the eye of a stranger in these dwellings, is the absence of chimneys—the kitchens being, in most instances, detached from the house; and the heat of the climate, as a matter of course, renders all grates or stoves, and their accompanying flues, unnecessary.
Since the serious droughts in 1833, springs or wells have been dug in various parts of the town, which, although the water is brackish, are of great use for many domestic purposes, particularly to the lower classes, who do not possess a cistern. These springs have been lately modified by having water-engines attached to them, and enclosed by a low wall and wooden palisadings, painted of a bright sky-colour. Methinks, however, that Master Sol will soon spoil their flaunting beauty. It is a pity the directors of these improvements did not choose green instead of the other colour; for, from the whiteness of the streets, and the extreme glare of the sunbeams, we require something to relieve and cool the eye; and much as we admire the lovely tint of the heavens, light blue palings do not equally fascinate our gaze.
In different parts of the town are numbers of small shops, of about six or eight feet square, in which varieties of trades are carried on. In one may be seen a cobbler—no! I beg their pardon—a cordwainer; himself shoeless, busily employed in forming, from his not very fragrant materials, a pair of creaking high-heeled boots, for the use of some black exquisite. A bunch of human hair attached to the end of a long stick, and moving with every breeze, bespeaks the abode of a barber and hair-dresser; while a multiplicity of shreds of cloth, half-finished vests, a goose, and other et ceteras, with a group of mortals seated à la Turque, proves beyond doubt that the inmates are of that particular class of beings, nine individuals of which are required to form one ordinary man. Others, again, of the receptacles of trade, are stocked with provisions, such as small quantities of salt pork, corn, flour, candles, butter, (of the consistence of honey,) a few dried peas, or horse-beans, and any other little matters; while some contain dry goods, as it is customary, in this island, to term all articles of drapery. Small as these tenements are, many of them are divided by a lathed partition, forming on one side a butcher’s shamble, where an array of sheep’s heads, miserable specimens of legs of mutton, and saffron-coloured pork, may be met with, which, carnivorous as it must be allowed we all are, few like their eyes to dwell upon; while, on the other side, gown-pieces, and “blue checks,” with other “odds and ends,” claim the frequenters’ attention.
Next to these small shops, come the stores of the retail provision dealers, which are upon a larger scale, and of course better supplied with goods. Then there are the grog shops, as they are termed, where to the heterogeneous mass of eatables, crockery, and tin-ware, is added the more exciting articles of brandy, rum, gin, porter, wine, &c.; and where of an evening, amid fumes of every description, (from Yanky cheese to Virginia tobacco,) and dim smoky oil lamps, parties of soldiers, sailors, dingy-looking blacks, and unfortunate females—ay! and men of better rank of life, who ought to blush to be found in such places—love to congregate, and barter health and money, for dirty goblets of those fiery liquids.
When passing, in an evening, these store-houses for crime, they forcibly bring to my mind thoughts of Pandemonium. The dusky lamps, at one moment sending forth their long flaming tongues, the next, only serving to make darkness visible; the crowds of negroes, with their gleaming eyes and glittering teeth, presenting the appearance of so many attending demons; the groups of white soldiers or sailors, looking more pallid in the flickering lamp-light, and greedily quaffing the deleterious fluid, which, sooner or later, preys upon their very vitals—and then the various sounds of cursing and quarrelling, idiotic laughter, discordant singing, and incoherent talking, as the miserable frequenters arrive at the different stages of intoxication,—conspire to render it more like a council-chamber of tormented spirits, than the self-chosen place of amusement of rational creatures.
The next grade of these places of merchandise are, the merchants’ stores or warehouses, with their attached lumber-yards. These are, in most instances, large, dismal-looking buildings, whose unwashed rafters afford safe protection to innumerable spiders of every size, or present a desirable spot for the freemasons (the ichneumon bee) to erect their clayey dwellings upon. One corner of these vast emporiums is latticed off, forming a counting-house, decorated with a coat of white, green, or yellow paint, and shewing its chequers of red tape, for the purpose of sticking orders, letters, or bank-notices for payments, due at the Colonial or West India Bank. Here, on a high-legged stool, of dingy look, sits the merchant, dressed in his round, white jacket, snowy pantaloons, Panama or Paget hat; and, with pen in hand, and a pinch of Lundy-foot between his fingers, (to assist his ideas, I suppose,) calculates the probabilities of his ’specs, which in other days afforded such golden harvests as to give rise to the belief, that the streets in the West Indies were paved with doubloons and dollars.
But let it not be imagined that this worthy and numerous class employ all their business-hours in calculating their gains and losses, poring over the leaves of a dusty ledger, or puzzling their brains over their “bank accounts.” Oh! no, no—the Antiguan merchants are far too wise for that—many a bowl of “pepper-punch” is brewed; many a long cork of approved brand is drawn, and the “rosy red” Vin de Bordeaux is poured into the tendered crystal; and many a bottle of champagne, or “Tennent’s pale ale,” is unwired, uncorked, and its creamy excellence effused for them. Nor is the tongue idle; well-seasoned jests and brilliant repartees abound; news is discussed, wit flies like arrows, and many a rosy face grows more roseate, and many a laughing eye becomes dewy before they part.
But I must say something more about the stores—what a scene of confusion they present to the unaccustomed eye!—what varied and multiplied articles do they display! In one part are hogsheads of salt cod, herrings, and other salted fish; bins of Indian corn, rice, peas, and salt; flour, tobacco, barrels of blacking, and kegs of lard. In another part may be found barrels of beef and mess-pork; hogsheads of prime Cumberland hams, kits of ox tongues, and barrels of biscuits; sparkling Moselle, hock, seltzer-water, and lamp-oil; preserved meats and soups, and kegs of crackers; pitch, tar, rosin, and oats; block-tin tureens, spirits of turpentine, and Cognac brandy; crates of earthenware, rose nails, and hogsheads of tin-ware; with London pickles, agricultural implements, and hair-brooms. On another side of the store lie huddled together hogsheads of Barclay’s brown stout, boxes of soap, bundles of wood-hoops, and cases of gilded cornices; boxes of raisins and currants, paving flags, and masts and oars; firkins of Cork butter, hogsheads of lime, and patent corkscrews; Hyson teas, Durham mustard, loaf-sugar, and Havannah cigars; potatoes, onions, Bologna sausage, and blacksmiths’ coals; artificers’ tools, anti-corrosion paint, currycombs, and gold watches; the whole wound up with Rowland’s Macassar oil, floating soap, and quack medicines, consisting of Morrison’s pills, and Swain’s Panacea, which, if we believe the labels, are to cure every ill “that flesh is heir to;” while from the ceiling dangle in graceful negligence, coils of rope, and horses’ halters.
To prove to any of my readers who may be sceptical of the truth of such a various assemblage of goods, as I have stated the merchant’s stores contain, I will give a correct copy of a cargo handed about to the different merchants, as brought by an American vessel arrived to-day:—
CARGO ON BOARD BRIG “RANDOLPH,” FROM PHILADELPHIA.
| 12 | barrels pitch | 1 | box fine beaver hats |
| 118 | covered hams | 100 | boxes cheese |
| 2 | casks of shoulders | 3 | doz. Windsor chairs |
| 30 | barrels pilot bread | 16 | nurses’ rocking chairs |
| 10 | do. navy do. | 8 | ladies’ cane do. |
| 30- | 3 do. sugar biscuits | 1 | doz. children’s do. |
| 20- | 3 do. soda | 49 | barrels potatoes |
| 20- | 3 crackers | 18¼ | gross lucifer matches |
| 50 | kegs lard | 1 | mahogany spring-seat sofa |
| 30 | blls. mess pork | 1 | do. wash-stand, marble top |
| 100 | kegs butter | 3 | boxes stationery |
| 13 | boxes lump tobacco | 4 | backgammon boards |
| 20 | do. champagne cider | 12 | bridles |
| 20 | doz. buckets | 22½ | doz. black ink in boxes |
| 50 | boxes soap, 24 lbs. | 1 | mahogany spring-seat, rocking chair |
| 700 | do. 16 lbs. | 2 | wooden arm chairs |
| 50 | do. mould candles | ||
| 17 | do. do. |
Offers in cash, or negotiable notes, 1 o’clock.
From the store we will take a walk into the lumber yard. But before I proceed to describe it, it will be necessary for me to make another digression, and let those of my readers who may be yet ignorant of the real meaning of the term know what “lumber” is. Upon my first acquaintance with West Indians, I was particularly surprised to hear them talk so much about lumber, and of Mr. This and Mr. That dealing in such commodity. As my mind has ever been apt to roam far and wide, I no sooner heard the merits of this peculiar article (if I may so call it) discussed, than my schooldays’ tasks presented themselves to my recollection, and I mentally murmured with Dr. Johnson, “lum-ber, lumber, old useless furniture.”
Having arrived at this definition, again I fancied myself amid broken chairs and tables, sofas minus a leg, shattered looking-glasses, musty, dusty, rusty, grates, antique bottles, and similar chattels, where in one of my hoyden days I had scrambled to look for a bird-cage in which to imprison a poor half-fledged skylark, captured for me by a little ragged protégé of mine, known by the true English name of “Bill.”
Yet still I was not satisfied; for what, thought I, can West Indian merchants find so particularly valuable in all these divers specimens of mutilation, as to induce them to deal so largely in them? I could only answer mine own query by exclaiming “’tis strange! ’tis passing strange!” Time wore on, however, and I arrived at Antigua; then my wonder soon ceased, and I found out that in fact a lumber merchant signifies nothing less than a dealer in timber.
Having endeavoured to give the Antiguan definition of lumber, I will now proceed to describe “the yard.” It is generally entered by passing through the store, at the hazard of putting your foot into pools of rosin or varnish, slipping over stray peas, or half-breaking your neck over heaps of brickbats. At length the yard is gained, and drawing a long breath, as much from heat as exercise, I look around. On each side of the door are huge stacks of staves, piled up in a very uniform manner, used for making hogsheads or tierces for packing sugar, or puncheons for the conveyance of rum. In other parts of the yard are bundles of cypress or cedar shingles,[[69]] white and pitch pine boards, planks and scantlings, all packed in appropriate order; that is, when they are not landing cargoes, and the master has an eye to tidy appearances; but if this is not the case, the different species of lumber are tumbling about in all directions.
Then there are large sheds erected in various parts of the yard, for the purpose of securing “hard-wood” (as mahogany, mill-timber, &c.) from the effects of the weather. There is also very generally a pigeon-house or two to be met with, and their pretty inmates may be seen gliding about, picking up the scattered grain, or, perched upon one of the lumber stacks, watch your every movement with their bright round eyes, while their variegated breasts glitter in the sun-beams like so many gems. At the bottom of the yard large gates open to the sea, furnished with a huge crane; and here it is that all those incongruous articles which fill their stores, and bring wealth to their coffers, are landed.
When the merchants are visited by certain fears and twitchings, relative to the fact of their not being able to dispose of their diversified merchandise, they “call an auction;” and under the auspices of the red flag,[[70]] and with the assistance of the auctioneer’s lungs and hammer, instead of harlequin’s magic wand, turn all these “creature’s comforts” into pounds, shillings, and pence.
In some parts of the town are auction rooms, where, with the same laudable zeal for “charming variety,” things as distinct from each other as the nadir is from the zenith, are put up, the mysterious words “going, going, gone” uttered, and finally knocked down to the attendants—whites, blacks, and coloured.
Having mentioned the stores of those philanthropists, who, for the mere consideration of a little dirty pelf, undertake to provide so liberally for the inner man, it will be necessary to take a look at those temples of fashion, fancy, and fascination, commonly known in this island as “Scotch shops,” or in other words, Antiguan haberdashery stores.
In a particular part of St. John’s, running north and south, lies a well-made broad street, which, from being inhabited principally by Scotchmen, is known by the appropriated name of “Scotch Row.” Capital stores (when I am at Rome, I like to do as Rome does, and give everything its approved title) flank each side of the street, and display their glittering wares to the admiration of passers-by; and from whence (with but few exceptions) emanate those dresses and ribbons of a thousand dyes, with which the fair sex of every colour delight to enrobe their lovely forms.
Here, as in the merchants’ stores, may be found articles of the most opposite natures. In one part lies a delicate white satin bonnet, with its bunches of “orange flowers,” to grace the head of some blushing bride, or decorated with the snowy plumes torn by the swarthy African from some swift-footed ostrich; while by its side reposes a broken ewer, or an iron pot.
You may, in truth, buy anything and everything in these “Scotch shops,” from three farthings’ worth of tape to the most costly articles. Dresses of all kinds; ribbons, laces, flowers, and bonnets; coats, vests, pantaloons, umbrellas, and shoes; blondes, scarfs, mantelets, perfumery, and tenpenny nails; paint, frying-pans, and carpets; jewellery of every description, dripping-pans, and Seidlitz powders; Epsom salts, ginger-beer, and white lead; horses’ halters, cherry-tree chairs, and preserved fruits; children’s dresses, lanterns, horse-whips, and coffee; sugar-loaves, saddles, bonnet-shapes, and white-handled knives; ladies’ corsets, Valenciennes edging, and Westphalia hams; pigs’ tongues, truckle cheese, and bird-seed; dish-covers, bottle-baskets, hooks-and-eyes, and brimstone; harness, cattle medicines, and lozenges; “Mechian” razor strops, and Metcalf’s toothbrushes; with brandy, champagne, Madeira, sherry, port, sauterne, Rhenish wines, bottled stout, pale ale, glasses to drink all these good articles out of, and I know not what besides. Loaves of sugar dangling by the side of zephyr scarfs, or candle-boxes vis-à-vis with ostrich feathers.
Oh! ye tradesmen of Regent-street, so polite and perfumed, and such calibre, who stand behind your glossy counters with the air of “my lord duke,” or glide with noiseless steps and mincing airs over your Persian carpeted floor,—what, what would you think of our Antiguan shops? Or how would those over-fashionable gentlemen at Storr and Mortimer’s be astounded, when tendering for approval to “beauty bright” those costly gems which carry us back to the days of the Arabian nights, if they came in contact with a brass kettle or an iron pot!
I often wonder how the pale-faced, straight-haired clerks (for they are not termed shopmen in this part of the world) manage to get on among such a multiplicity of dissimilar articles; or that from being asked for so many contrary goods during the day, they do not make many and greater mistakes. A lady drives up in her carriage to the door of one of these labyrinthan depôts of vanity, and in that “low soft voice so sweet in woman,” asks to be shewn some orange flower chaplets, and essence of Frangipanier. The poor clerk, his brains turning round like a revolving light, flies to obey her commands; but lo! in his hurry and confusion, he catches up a frying-pan, and with streaming brow, presents the inelegant article to the lady’s astounded and horrified gaze, instead of the delicate perfume.
The master of these gay and changeful stores, is as diversiformed as his goods are various. In the morning he stands behind his counter, and “bows to” and “ma’am’s” any black member of the canaille that condescends to purchase a few yards of “half-a-bit” (2d. sterling) ribbon to sandal her mill-post ankle; while in the evening, in all the glories of white pantaloons, new coat, smart buttons and embroidered stock, he figures away at an aristocratic dinner party.
Times are indeed altered with these Scotchmen. In former years, when Sawney left his mountain home, his trouty lochs, and oaten bannocks, for the hot suns and debilitating climate of these “Isles of the West;” he did it for the sake alone of siller. As to ambition—faugh! he hated the very name, or else, like the cock in Esop’s fable, he spurned the glittering bauble, of which he knew not the worth. They plodded on from year to year, increased their stock of goods, and added many a round dollar to their worldly wealth, and then sat down contentedly to enjoy the smoky flavour of their usquebaugh, forming no greater acquaintance with the governor, than as they saw him proceed to the court-house in discharge of his high office, or knowing no more of government-house than the outer appearance.
But the Scotchmen of the present day scorn the lowly ideas of their predecessors. They ape the man of fashion, call their haberdashery store a merchant’s warehouse, and foregoing the vulgar title of draper, take to themselves the loftier name of merchant. Nor is this all. They attend the governor’s levees, play the amiable at a quadrille party, frequent the billiard table, or perchance take wine with his excellency, and grin and bow with approved precision. Their shops prove an agreeable morning lounge for the superiors of the island, and in a glass of sangaree, or a flowing bowl of pepper-punch, the difference of grade between the entertainer and the entertained is overlooked.
That “there is no rule without an exception,” is a true apophthegm; and among the many emigrants from the “land o’ cakes,” some very respectable individuals are to be met with.
I believe it a correct statement to assert, that “Scotch Row” begins with one of this superior class, and ends with him who has been called “The father of the Scotchmen,” not from his age, but from his high conduct.
Mr. H——— is a man in whom great urbanity is blended with strong determination of character. He possesses varied talents, and is no mean disciple of St. Cecilia’s; and although, perhaps, not altogether ranking among the literati in the fuller sense of that term, yet he
“——laughing can instruct Much has he read,
Much more has seen: he studied from the life,
And in the original perused mankind.”
Philosophy to him, however, is no gloomy subject; no solemn stalking about wrapt up in his own stately ideas, and scorning, with cynic’s eye, any harmless mirth. In the words of one of Britain’s poets, I may say of him—
“——nor purpose gay,
Amusement, dance or song, he sternly scorns.”
Nature seems to have intended him for a higher occupation, than to stand behind a counter and sell a few yards of tape, or a paper of pins.
The streets of the capital have all their proper appellations, although no painted board announces such a fact to the traveller. The east and west streets, beginning southerly, are—South-street, Tanner, Nevis, Ratcliff, St. Mary’s, High, Long, Church, Newgate, Wapping, North, Bishopsgate, St. John’s, St. George’s; north and south streets, beginning easterly, are—East-street, Cross, Church-lane, Temple, Steeple-street, Corn, Market, Friendly-alley, Gutter-lane, Newgate-lane, Popeshead, Thames, Coney-Warren-lane, Subscription-alley, Craw-lane, Wilkinson’s-street, and Mariner’s-lane. Some of these lanes and alleys are famous for their grog-shops, particularly that establishment known by the appropriate name of “The Hole-in-the-Wall,” for the only entrance is a low arched door-way scooped out of its massy walls.
One part of the town bears the somewhat lofty title of “The Parade.” In former years it answered as a kind of exchange, where the merchants congregated together during “’Change hours,” and discussed the business of the commercial world. Cargoes of all descriptions were here disposed of; dollars and doubloons in one moment changed owners, and human flesh and blood was openly bartered. For a long period, however, the Parade visibly declined in importance, and became but the shadow of itself; but within these last few years, it has, phœnix like, sprung up with renewed vigour, and presents to the passenger’s eye many good and bustling stores.
St. John’s has, at various times, suffered severely from conflagrations—a circumstance not to be wondered at, when we consider the great number of wooden buildings, and the carelessness of persons in throwing about particles of fire. In 1769, an accident of this nature occurred, which was most direful in its consequence. It arose from the negligence of a woman who was employed in ironing, and who omitted to extinguish the fire in a coal-pot, after finishing her labours.
It may be necessary, perhaps, for the comprehension of some of my readers who may not be conversant with West Indian domestic subjects, to mention more fully the construction of a coal-pot. In some of the islands these utensils are composed of clay, moulded into the form of buckets, and baked in a moderate fire; but the Antiguan coal-pot is nothing more nor less than a deal box, clamped with iron or tin, and lined with bricks plastered over. A few pieces of old iron hoop are placed horizontally across the box at stated intervals about halfway from the bottom, and upon these is placed a layer of charcoal. The irons are arranged upon the top, and the coals ignited; no bellows are used, except what Nature has afforded in the owners’ own lungs; or when their breath fails, and the fuel still proves refractory, their large straw hat is displaced from their heads, and brandished before the mouths of their little stoves, with sundry ejaculations of “Eh! eh! war do de co-als to-day, me b’lieve dem no want to burney.”
But to return to the fire in 1769; it burnt with fearful rapidity. The gaol, custom-house, indeed nearly the whole town, fell a prey to the destructive element, 260 houses being levelled with the ground, and some of the finest stores and richest merchandise destroyed. Government granted 1000l. for the relief of the sufferers; and their kind friends in Liverpool collected, during the following year, the sum of
346l. 2s. 6d., which was thankfully and gratefully received.
Many other fires have occurred since then, the vestiges of which remain to this day; one in particular, known by the appropriate name of the burnt wall, is still pointed out to the notice of the stranger. Part of this land has been lately purchased by the Wesleyans, who have erected a small chapel upon it, which answers also for a school-room, and where preaching is held on Friday evenings.
But the conflagration which happened on the 2nd April, 1841, has effaced the memory of all other events of the same nature. It broke out in the house of a person carrying on the business of a straw bonnet-maker, after the family had retired to rest, and it was only discovered in time for the inmates to make their escape by jumping from the upper windows.
A few moments after it was first perceived, the walls fell, and the flames burst forth with a fearful rapidity, curling and twisting themselves in all directions; seizing upon every thing within their reach, and illuminating the heavens with their awfully grand lustre. The church bell tolled forth its solemn warning; drums beat an alarm; and, in the words of an old writer, when describing the fire in London in 1666, “dreadful screams disturbed the midnight quiet, and raised the affrighted people from their beds, who, scarce awake, all seemed to be a dream. Each one appeared but as a moving statue, as once Lot’s wife, viewing her flaming Sodom, was transformed into a pillar.”
So saith “Samuel Wiseman,” and his graphic description answers equally for the fire of Antigua, as it did in yore, for that of London.
House after house, store after store, fell beneath the raging element; or, when built of stone, only their bare and blackened walls were left standing. No sooner was one house on fire, than the flames were pouring into the windows of the next; scathing the trees as they passed, dismantling them of their verdure, and leaving them only a seared and withered trunk. Again the Custom House fell a victim, and to this cause many deficiencies in the statistical part of this work may be attributed; for, from the suddenness and violence of the fire, many valuable records were lost.
Still the fiery deluge rolled on,—at one moment the sky was almost hidden by the dense masses of smoke; at another, bright spiral lines of flame shot up into the air, and cast a lurid light on all around. I am sorry to record it, but the negro-men behaved very ill, refusing to lend assistance, (in most instances,) but employing their time in plundering from the sufferers. To the glory of the women, be it spoken, they did not follow the example of their kinsmen, but cheerfully and firmly laboured through that awful night. The crew of two French ships of war, which chanced to be lying in the harbour, also assisted, aided by the sailors from the English and island vessels; and the gentlemen of the town, headed by the lieutenant-governor, Major McPhail, (who flew to the scene of danger stockingless and almost slipperless,) worked with undaunted courage and good-will; and by dint of energy, and pulling down several small houses, so as to make room for the flames in their gyral evolutions, at length succeeded in gaining the mastery over their formidable enemy.
But, alas! when morning came, and threw a steady light upon the picture, what a melancholy sight was presented to the view. A long line of building, including the best and finest houses, entirely destroyed; lumber-yards and warehouses despoiled of their goods, and the very streets strewed ankle-deep with burnt salt-fish, peas, rice, flour, and similar articles! In some parts might be seen groups of negroes carousing around some gutted dwelling, tearing out the burning provisions, and, amid all this desolation and the mournful feelings of men, who, in one short night, had lost that for which they had toiled for years, shouting forth from their stentorian lungs snatches of some bacchanalian song, or allowing their vacant heartless laugh to vibrate painfully upon the silent morning air.
Ever and anon, the smouldering fire sent up some fitful glare; or a brilliant coruscation of sparks, shot forth from some still burning log of pitch-pine, gilded the surrounding scene with their beautiful but dangerous showers. The fire burnt down to the sea-side; seizing upon the very timber of the wharfs and cranes, and destroying them to the water’s edge. The amount of damage has been estimated at 250,000l. sterling; but the loss is more than can be calculated, for it has despoiled and depopulated one of the finest and busiest streets in the town, and which, from the depressed state of trade, will be long, very long, before it is again rebuilt.
More than eight months have silently rolled by since that awful cry of “Fire” awoke the Antiguans from their tranquil slumbers, and sent a thrill of dismay through the hearts of all. And there stand the ruins, blackened and cracked by the intense heat which caused the very glass to pour down in streams, which, when congealed, appeared like icicles; or else, only shewing by the open space, where the ill-fated dwellings stood—where the voice of happy infancy once uttered many a jocund shout—or where the soft full tone of riper years carolled many a light and gladsome lay. Long grass and luxuriant weeds have already grown up in the spot once dedicated to business or pleasure, and the bat and the lizard have made it their own.
[[68]] The whites, or Buckra’s, as they are called in the West Indies, however indigent in circumstances, pride prohibits them from engaging in such industrious pursuits.
[[69]] Used for covering the tops of houses, as tiles or slates are in England.
[[70]] A flag is always hoisted upon places where a sale is held.
CHAPTER XIX.
Description of the church of St John’s—Period of its erection—Present site—Panoramic views—Form of structure—Length and breadth—Interior—Decorations—Monuments—Organ—Tower—Bells—Clock—Churchyard—Tombs and sepulchral inscriptions—An acrostic—“Adam and Eve!”
The first place of public worship erected in St. John’s was the parochial church, commenced in 1683-4. It was a small wooden building, standing about sixty yards further to the south than the present church; and, if we are to believe an old writer, totally destitute of beauty or comfort. During the administration of Gen. Walter Hamilton, it was found to be in such a dilapidated state, that in 1716 the necessity of erecting a new church was submitted to the legislature; and with the concurrence of the members of that body, an act was passed the same year, granting a provision for building a new place of worship, (to be dedicated to St. John,) and imposing a yearly tax for the purpose of keeping the said church in repair. It was not, however, until between the years 1721 and 1723, during the period that John Hart was administrating the government of these islands, that the erection of the church was commenced. Mr. Robert Cullen was the architect, and by his suggestions, its site was laid to the north of the old building; thus occupying the very spot where the militia were stationed in 1710, when ordered to fire upon Governor Park, in that unhappy difference between him and the country, and which ended so fatally to himself.
The present parochial church is pleasantly situated upon an ascent, at the head of the town, and commands from every side a wide and beautiful view of the surrounding country. From the west door, the eye ranges over the bustling town, with its motley groups of passengers—dwells for a time upon the long line of ruined buildings destroyed by the fire already described—scans the lovely harbour, with its graceful shipping, the interesting bay of the Five Islands on the one side, and, on the other, a long line of cocoa-nut trees and brilliant sand, bespeaking the situation of Dickenson’s Bay—and then roves on to the offing, where a large extent of ocean of the sweetest blue stretches out; and where, perhaps, a far-off sail may be seen, which looks in the distance like the white wing of some passing gull.
From the south door, another beautiful and panoramic view may be obtained, particularly towards the close of the day, when the sun has almost completed his daily journey, and, shorn of his fervent beams, throws on every cloud his myriad dyes. The part of the town then presented to the gaze of the beholder slopes by a gradual descent towards the suburbs, bounded by Otto’s Hill (an estate belonging to the representatives of Bastien Baijer) and the surrounding country. At the extent of the horizon runs a long range of mountains—the more distant ones presenting a greyish, gloomy colour, while others have their tops irradiated with a brilliant fringe of gold or purple, as the different clouds appear to rest upon them. Of this chain, the declivities of which afford every species of beauty, and every gradation of varying green, the lower ones are generally in a state of cultivation; and their undulating surface presents in some places groups of lovely trees, or breaks into patches of sugar-canes, clusters of negro-huts, and sugar-mills.
The church itself, which is built of brick, washed of a light yellow, is cruciform; the north and south vestibules forming the arms of the cross. The extreme length, from the inner west door to the altar-piece, is 130 feet; and the breadth, exclusive of the vestibules, (or porches,) is 50 feet. In the interior, eighteen plain wooden pillars divide the nave from the north and south aisles; the sixteen lower ones forming the support to the north and south galleries. The roof of the nave is a semicircular vault, painted to represent the heavens, with all their drapery of light and fleecy clouds; and when viewed from the west door, has a very pretty effect.
The chancel roof is of the same pitch, but of a pyramidal form; it is painted in the same manner as the nave, and is supported by four square fluted columns.
The altar is very beautifully devised. In the centre are the tables of the ten commandments, gold-lettered upon a black ground. On each side are full-length paintings of Moses, and of Aaron, in his “holy garments.” That of Aaron is very finely executed; the face is such as we can imagine that of the great “high-priest” to have been, majestic, but beautiful; and the “robes,” the “breast-plate,” the “ephod,” the “curious girdle,” and the “golden censer,” are very correctly painted. The outer tables of “The Belief” and “Lord’s Prayer” are handsomely gilded—the inscription being executed in letters of black; and over the commandments, in the centre of the altar, is a medallion painting of cherubs. The several compartments are divided by gilded pilasters; the cornices, architraves, and friezes, are very pretty and tasteful; and in the inter-columniations are one or two triglyphs.
The communion-table is covered with dark purple velvet, fringed deeply with gold; and on either end lie cushions to match. The communion-service plate is very handsome; the large salver, measuring eighteen inches in diameter, was presented to the church by John Otto Baijer, Esq., about the year 1724. It displays a representation of the “Lord’s Supper,” the figures in beautiful basso-relievo, and bears the following inscription:—
Donum Domini Johannis Otto Baijer
Ad Templum Divi Johannis Antigua.
The two smaller salvers and the cup are inscribed as follows:—
In usum Templi Divi Johannis in Antigua
Gulielmus Jones Parochialis hujus olim Rector
Donum Dedit.
Besides the communion-plate, the table supports a pair of tall silver lamps, with ground-glass burners, bearing the inscription—
Donum Domini Petre Lee ad Templum Divi
Johannis in Antigua.
And on each side of the table stand quaint-looking chairs, for the accommodation of the bishop and archdeacon, which have been used for that purpose since the dismantling of the “Bishop’s Pew.”
The pulpit and desk are of dark oak, as also the railings to the stairs; and, like the communion-table, have each their drapery and cushions of dark purple, with deep gold fringe and tassels, and the “I. H. S.” encircled with its golden rays. Formerly the pulpit, surmounted by a sounding-board, stood further down the nave; but after being removed once or twice, the desk has been separated from the pulpit, and they are placed at the entrance of the chancel, on each side the aisle.
About the centre of the church is suspended a brass chandelier, consisting of ten branches, which have been lately fitted up with ground-glass burners; it was a gift (by will, 2nd May, 1740) to the church, from Phillip Darby, an old inhabitant of Antigua, and rector of St. John’s.
At the entrance of the church from the north vestibule stands a small marble font, of a semi-spherical form, ornamented with four heads of cherubs, and supported by a corniform pedestal. It is intended to be placed at the extreme end of the middle aisle, immediately before the west entrance, and opposite the altar—a site far more applicable for it than where it now stands.
The church is lighted by fourteen windows: six in the north aisle, six in the south aisle, and two in the east end of the building. Formerly they were all fitted up with jalousies; but within these last few years, the eight nearest the altar have been reglazed with ground glass, arranged in a Gothic pattern. These windows are divided into six compartments; and are so contrived, that, by aid of a turnscrew, they can be opened to a certain height. They certainly add to the beauty of the edifice, but deteriorate from its comfort by rendering it warmer than it otherwise would be: a circumstance not desirable in this fervid climate.
Several fine monuments grace the walls of this sacred building; but the oldest sepulchral inscription is upon a stone slab, in the chancel, to the memory of Mrs. Gilbert, wife of Mr. Gilbert, who introduced methodism[[71]] in Antigua, and who died in 1747.
In the south aisle are the following monuments:—
An elegant mural monument of white marble upon a black ground, erected to the memory of Mrs. Elizabeth Ottley, wife of Richard Ottley, Esq., and daughter of Ashton Warner, speaker of the house of assembly in 1716. The ornamental part of this monument consists of the figure of a seraph with outspread wings, leaning upon a sepulchral urn, bearing a coronal of undying laurel leaves in its right hand; and in its left an inverted torch, partly extinguished, emblematical of the uncertainty of human life. The inscription is as follows:—
“Near to this place is laid, with the remains of her honoured parents, the body of Elizabeth, the pious, amiable, and much-beloved wife of Richard Ottley; who departed this life, in the Island of St Vincent, on Thursday, 28th August, in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and sixty-six, in the thirty-second year of her age.
“She was the daughter of Ashton Warner, Esq.,[[72]] Attorney-General of Antigua, by Elizabeth, his wife, and was born the 7th June, 1735, O.S.; married 25th October, in the year 1753, and left issue surviving her, one son and three daughters—viz., Drewry, Elizabeth, Mary Trant, and Alice.
“She possessed a graceful person, an excellent understanding, and a sweetness of disposition that engaged the esteem of all that knew her, and performed with so much complacency the several duties in her family, and those of a good friend and neighbour, that it may be truly said she died universally lamented, and a real loss to that infant colony. Her inconsolable husband (in whose arms she expired, after bearing with admirable fortitude and resignation the excruciating pains of a long and difficult labour) caused this monument to be erected to her memory.
“The son with whom she died reclines upon that breast which would have nourished him had the Almighty so permitted.”
A very chaste and elegant white marble tablet, forming a Gothic arch, erected to the memory of the Honourable Sam. Otto Baijer, a descendant of Bastien Baijer, who signed the capitulation in 1666, bearing the following inscription:—
As a last mournful token of affection,
This Tablet is erected by
Elizabeth Mary Otto Baijer,
To the memory of her beloved Father,
The Honourable Samuel Otto Baijer,
Of Pares Estate, in this Island;
Who died at Philadelphia
On the 20th of December, 1835,
Aged 54 years.
Also to the memory of her Mother,
Elizabeth Mary Otto Baijer,
Who died in 1813, at Dove Hall,
In the Island of Jamaica,
In the 27th year of her age.
Also to the memory of her Brother,
Rowland Archibald Otto Baijer,
Son of the above-named
Samuel Otto Baijer and Mary Elizabeth his Wife,
Who died at Pares Estate, in this Island,
On the 24th of November, 1837,
Aged 25 years and 8 months,
And whose remains repose near this spot.
A small, unpretending marble tablet:—
Sacred
To the Memory of
Elizabeth Jane Harman,
Who died on the 16th April, A.D. 1828,
Aged 21 years.
“We have this treasure in earthen vessels.”
A pyramidal monument, supported by fluted pillars, and bearing a small sarcophagus, surmounted by two figures of children or cherubs, holding in their hands a scroll, on which is written texts from Scripture. The inscription is as follows:—
“Supported only by a meek obedience to the decrees of Eternal Wisdom, and a firm trust in the Atonement of a gracious Redeemer, William and Ruth Atkinson, once inhabitants of Antigua, and now of Dominica, as an inadequate evidence of their intense and aggravated anguish for the poignant and crushing trial they have undergone in the loss of both their children, pay this melancholy tribute, when advancing into manly, lively virtue, such as fills the parents’ soul with solid comfort.
“George Atkinson, their first and last spared hope, had nearly reached his twelfth year. This blooming prop of their declining age—when, by a mild and artless truth, joined to innate goodness and suavity of temper, he had irresistibly won the esteem and love of all—quitted this life without a struggle on Sunday, 5th Dec. 1779.
“William Atkinson, their youngest, died in infancy.
What poets paint, what marbles feebly tell,
Defective far are all;
Such woes are only to be known
To real feeling souls.
Where equal growing filial worth’s bewail’d,
The name of Son thus lost, all consolation fail’d.
1782.”[[73]]
A small tablet, representing a white scroll upon a black ground, surmounted by a laurel chaplet, bearing inscription:
In memory of
Auther Teagle,
Who departed this life
On the 20th November, 1839,
Aged 43 years.
“Thy will be done.”
In the north aisle are four monuments; the first, beginning from the east, erected to a late curate of St. John’s. It consists of a white marble tablet, and above, the figure of an angel soaring upwards, and encompassed with clouds. The tablet bears the following inscription:—
To the memory of
The Rev. William Thomas Bernard, A.B.,
Of Trinity College, Dublin,
Late curate of this parish,
Where, after a short residence of four months,
In the faithful exercise of his ministry, and
The manifestation of much private worth,
He died of fever, Nov. 2nd, 1835,
In the 26th year of his age,
Most deeply and generally regretted,
This tribute of esteem and affection
Is erected,
Partly by his much afflicted Sister,
Ellen M. Baily,
And partly by the Right Rev. William Hart Coleridge, D.D.,
Lord Bishop of this diocese,
The clergy of Antigua, and other friends in the
Island, who mourn his early loss.
Beneath the tablet are his coat of arms, with the motto—
“Bear and Forbear.”
A white marble monument, with a deep border of variegated brown marble, to the memory of a descendant of Sir Thomas Warner. The ornamental part consists of a female figure enveloped in widow-like drapery, and leaning upon an urn. The inscription is as follows:—
This monument
Is erected to the memory of
The Honourable William Warner, Esq.,
Who was a member of His Majesty’s Council,
And Treasurer of this Island.
Honourable by his office of Counsellor,
But
More honourable as a man:
For if
Virtue alone is true nobility,
And if justice, moderation, temperance, meekness,
Consummate honesty, charity, generosity, and
Conjugal affection, are virtues that are held in any estimation
Among men,
This man,
Who lived in the exercise of them all
Was truly honourable.
He died on Friday, 11 October, 1771, in the forty-third year of his age,
Universally regretted, and lamented by all orders and degrees among
Us.
To commemorate her anguish for his loss, and as a public
Testimony of her love and duty, his disconsolate widow hath
Caused this memorial to be raised.
Gloria in excelsis Deo!
A very elegantly designed white pyramidal monument erected to the memory of an only child. A chastely sculptured female figure leans upon a “storied urn,” with a beautifully chiselled wreath of flowers thrown around her. This monument has been unfortunately injured, one of the hands and part of the arm of the figure being broken off.
In memory of her only and beloved daughter,
Sarah Kelsick,
Wife of Mr. John Kelsick, merchant in Antigua,
Who died on 20th day of March, 1785,
In the 19th year of her age.
This monument was erected by her disconsolate mother,
Sarah Eccleston,
Wife of Isaac Eccleston, Esq.,
1792.
From the parent, the husband, the friend,
Her social and amiable virtues
Claim the tribute of affliction,
And though early cut off,
She must ever live in the memory of those
Who had the happiness of her acquaintance.
Vivit post funera virtus.
The next is an elaborate and splendid monument, erected by the country to the memory of Ralph Lord Lavington; and however peculiar the taste which dictated the design, the execution, at least, possesses merit. The top figure represents his lordship in a sitting posture, habited in the old court dress, and his plumed hat lying at his feet. The inscription is traced upon a light grey marble, hollowed out so as to allow of the insertion of a small sarcophagus, bearing his coat of arms, with a beautifully-executed branch of oak-leaves thrown across it.
Two female figures recline on each side; the one on the left hand, representing Astrea with her scales by her side, and the hilt of the sword of justice, very minutely and beautifully sculptured, protruding from behind the sarcophagus; her finely-formed and classic face is up-turned towards the old lord. In the other figure we behold the genius of the island, mourning for the loss of a favourite governor. She holds in her right hand a scroll, upon which is inscribed—“Resolved, that a monument be erected to his memory,” while with her left hand she shades her features as if in deep grief. At the feet of these figures rolls the sea, the waves, surmounted with their foam, very well executed. This costly monument bears the following inscription:—
Sacred
To the memory of
Ralph Payne Lord Lavington,
Of the kingdom of Ireland,
One of His Majesty’s most honourable Privy Council,
Knight of the most honourable Order of the Bath,
and Captain-general, and Commander-in-chief of
The Leeward Islands.
Upon the base of the monument is the following brief biographical inscription:—
“He was born in the Island of St. Christopher’s, of an English family, distinguished for its loyalty and public spirit. His education he received in England, and it prepared him for the distinctions which awaited his return to his native isle, when he was elected a member of the House of Assembly, and on its first meeting unanimously called to the chair of the House, in which high situation he gave an early display of those superior talents and eminent qualifications which afterwards secured him the confidence of his king, and the esteem of his country. On his return to England in 1762, he was elected a member of the House of Commons for the borough of Plympton, Devonshire; and from his perfect knowledge of colonial affairs, he was appointed in 1771—a period of national interest—to be captain-general and commander-in-chief of the Leeward Islands, at which time he was also invested with the most honourable Order of the Bath. He remained in the exercise of his government until 1774, when he returned to England, and was appointed a member of the Board of Green Cloth. During the period of his residence in England, he sat in five parliaments, and in 1795, his Majesty was graciously pleased to raise him to the dignity of a peer in Ireland, by the style and title of Baron Lavington of Lavington. In 1799, he was sworn one of his Majesty’s most honourable Privy Council, and again appointed to the chief command of the Leeward Islands, in the wise and able administration of which important trust he passed his latter years
And closed his venerable life.
This nobleman
Was revered for his public qualities,
As he was beloved for his private virtues.
He blended the dignity of his high office with the affability of his disposition and the gracefulness of his manners,
And at once commanded the respect, and conciliated the affections of all ranks of people
Within the circle of his government
As a sincere and lasting testimony of their veneration and regret,
The Legislature of Antigua
Have erected this monument
He died at the Government House of this Island, on the 3rd day of Aug. 1807, aged 68; and was interred at his own estate, called Carlisles.”
The whole of this very handsome monument is enclosed in an arch of plain black marble. I should have mentioned that the ornamental parts of this tomb are all in pure white marble.
The remaining monument is erected to the memory of Mrs. Musgrave, who was unfortunately thrown out of her carriage (the horse becoming restive and breaking the shafts) and killed upon the spot. This unhappy catastrophe occurred in one of the streets of St. John’s, and a representation of the event, absurd as it may seem, is sculptured upon the monument (which is of white marble) in basso-relievo. In the background is the animal, apparently of the cart-horse breed, scampering away with the broken shafts and traces hanging around him; in the foreground, is the figure of a man, kneeling and supporting in his arms a female, whose listless posture portrays the dire event. The face of the female is well executed, the features expressing acute suffering, while they tell the hand of death is upon them; but the figure is execrable in its proportions, the hand and arm being quite as large as the leg and foot of the man, if not larger. The inscription is as follows:—
“No warning given! unceremonious fate!
A sudden rush from life’s meridian joys!
A wrench from all she loved.”[[74]]
Sacred to the memory
of
Eliza Musgrave,
Wife of William Musgrave, Esq.,
Of the Inner Temple, barrister-at-law.
She departed this life
On the morning of the 12th Feb., 1815,
Aged 24 years,
Beloved and lamented by all who knew her.
Her God she reverenced;
Towards her neighbours she never wilfully offended;
To her husband she was everything
His fondest wishes could picture or embrace.
He idolized her while she lived,
And his respect for her exalted worth
Survives beyond the grave.
The remembrance of her many virtues
Remains indelibly inscribed
In his dejected bosom.
“Friends, our chief treasure, how they drop!
How the world falls to pieces round about us!
And leaves us in the ruin of our joy!
What says this transportation of my friends?
It bids me love the place where now they dwell,
And scorn this wretched spot it leaves so poor.”[[75]]
The aisles of the church are paved with a coarse species of marble, laid down in alternate diamonds of black and white. The chancel is raised by two steps, and has a stone pavement. The body of the church contains 152 pews, but with the assistance of the galleries, of which there are three, affords about 1800 sittings. The governor’s pew is very neatly fitted up with crimson damask, and contains some gaily coloured ottomans; over the pew are the royal arms of England. Service is performed in the church on Sundays, Wednesdays, and Fridays; and our exemplary rector, with true Christian indefatigability, administers the sacrament monthly, at eight in the morning, and after the usual morning service.
The organ with which the church is furnished, was erected (partly by subscription) in 1760, at the cost of 450l. sterling, the vestry making up what was wanting. It is still a very fine instrument, and our talented and respected organist, G. Hart, Esq., fully recompenses us for any defects it may labour under by his inimitable execution.[[76]]
At the west end of the nave rises a plain quadrangular tower, surmounted by an octagonal cupola. The elevation to the apex of the cupola is sixty-five feet; the altitude of the tower itself is fifty feet. This tower was not erected until 1789, some years after the parent church, but from being constructed of the same materials, presents a uniform appearance; the cupola is built of wood, the perpendicular compartments being jalousied. John Delap Halliday, Esq. gave 500l. towards its erection.[[77]]
Within these last few months, two windows have been pierced at the east side of the tower, in the small chamber where the works of the clock are placed. These were made at the suggestion of Mr. Jones, the keeper of the clock, and which prove very beneficial to him when inspecting and cleaning that necessary appurtenance. Before that period this chamber was perfectly dark, which not only rendered the air within it extremely damp, but presented an obstacle to the due regulation of the instrument contained in it; for candles are but a sorry substitute for the clear light of day when employed in such delicate business as rectifying the machinery of a horologe. Under the care of Mr. Jones the works are kept beautifully clean, which of course will produce a good effect. This instrument was the gift of John Delap Halliday, (as may be seen by the inscription upon the works,) of Antigua, and the maker of it Charles Penton, London, 1788. The windows are glazed, and present exactly the same appearance as those to be found in the suburban dwelling-houses around that mighty metropolis, London.
The tower contains two bells; the tenor one inscribed—“Edmund Powell, Golden Grove, 1684,” and was kept for the use of the coloured classes in other days. The large bell was presented to the church by John Delap, (before he assumed the name of Halliday,) Esq., 1788. It bore the following inscription:—“The gift of John Delap, Esq. The Rev. James Lindsey, rector; Thomas Hanson Halloran, and Daniel Hill, churchwardens. Charles Penton, London, fecit. John Warner, founder, of London, 1788.” It was taken down the 11th of February, 1840, on account of a serious injury beyond repair, shipped for London on board the “Antigua Packet,” and exchanged for a new one of the same size, which now serves to call the people to church, and to speak the demise of the inhabitants; but it is silent at a wedding, for in this country no merry peal of bells announces that event which elsewhere is ever the signal for joy and festivity.
Having attempted the description of the church, I will now proceed to mention the churchyard, which lies upon a gentle slope, and contains numerous tombs, with their iron or wooden railings. The most beautiful tomb in the ground was erected to the memory of the Honourable Otto Baijer, by his widow, who afterwards died on her passage to England in 1726. Her remains were brought back to Antigua, and now repose by the side of her loved husband. It is of pure white marble, although stained by exposure to the weather, and is elegantly ornamented with various fruits and flowers in basso-relievo.
The oldest sepulchral monuments, of which I could make out the inscriptions, are to the memory of Troughton, 1704; Col. Philip Lee. 1704;[[78]] Capt. Bastien Baijer, 1715; Thos. Oasterman, Esq., 1724; Frederic Cope, 1739; and Mrs. Warner, the wife of Ashton Warner, Esq., 1748.
The inscription upon the tomb of Frederic Cope demands, however, further mention. It is an acrostic; the poetry I leave to the judgment of my readers.
THE INSCRIPTION.
“F ar removed from every human eye he is,
R egardless now of earth, partakes of heaven’s bliss;
E xalted was his lively soul whilst here below,
D elighted ever tender friendships for to show;
E asy and cheerful through every scene of Life;
R eady to forgive all; but unto me, his wife,
I ndulgent to the last degree, for ever kind—
C alm was his spirit, virtuous was his mind.C areful he ever was to take no bribe in Law;
O h! full, full well the abject hate of mortals saw.
P artial he never was, just to each man’s fame,
E ach initial letter will now declare his name.”
He was born in London, of honest parents, on the 21st day of May, 1711, and died, in Antigua, on the 8th ———, 1739.
A fine large marble tomb, to the memory of the Honourable Ashton Warner, who died 11th of February, 1762, stands near to this very original sepulchral acrostic; and at no great distance a single stone to the memory of some admiral (the inscription obliterated) with its anchors and flags, and escutcheons.
On the east side of the north vestibule stands the tomb of Major-general George W. Ramsey, governor-in-chief of Antigua, Monserrat, and Barbados, in 1816, who departed this life, November 1st, 1819, in the 58th year of his age. The iron railing has become rusted and bent,[[79]] and the tomb bears many a blackened mark.
Near to the last resting-place of governor Ramsey, stands another very handsome tomb of white marble, erected to that well-known and eccentric character, Patrick Kirwan. He was a native of Galway, and as true an Irishman as ever handled a shillelah, or vowed devotion to “the shamrock so green.” Mr. Kirwan resided in Antigua for many years, as a planter and proprietor of estates, where his “bulls and blunders” are still remembered and repeated with delight. Upon one occasion he sent for a sun-dial from England, which he intended to have erected near his dwelling; but upon its arrival, it looked so smart with its golden rays and gnomen, that “Pat” pronounced it the very height of profanation to have such a pretty “cratur” exposed to the relentless shafts of master Sol; and so to preserve its beauty, and keep all secure, he had a tight snug shed built over it, which eventually forbid the entrance of any straggling sunbeam which might feel inclined to call upon it, to learn the hour. Poor Mr. Kirwan! his Irish blood was always leading him to commit blunders, which were sure to raise a laugh at his expense. During a partial rebellion of the negroes, at a period when he was manager of an estate, a few miles from the capital, he one morning presented himself before the proprietor with a very flushed face, and excited mien—“Good morning, Mr. Kirwan,” said his employer. “What brings you to town so suddenly—you look alarmed, I hope nothing is the matter?” “Faith, an there is though!” retorted the Irishman, “and if the blessed St. Patrick himself had been here, he would have looked alarmed too. Why, there’s a perfect resurrection of the negroes upon your estate!” “A what?” inquired the surprised proprietor. “A perfect resurrection,” repeated Pat, “and I have come to ask you what I must do?” His employer could scarcely repress a smile at this strange intelligence. At length, however, he summoned gravity enough to reply, “If that’s the case, Mr. Kirwan, the best advice I can give you is, to put a hoe into their hands as fast as they rise, and set them to work immediately.”
But with all his “bulls and blunders,” Mr. Kirwan was deservedly respected, and his death universally regretted. He died in 1819, in the 66th year of his age. The inscription upon his monument informs us “By his direction this tomb was erected.”
At the entrance of the east gate is a mural stone monument, erected to the memory of James Cullen, by his brother Robert Cullen. This monument is pointed out to strangers on account of the peculiarity of its form, with the assertion that the person who built the church is buried there, and that the coffin is obliged to stand in a perpendicular position. This, however, is not correct; the monument certainly stands there, but the place where the body is entombed is 23 feet further to the west; and instead of being raised to the memory of the architect of the church, that individual erected it to perpetuate the memory of his brother. This fact is engraven upon the monument; but so unexploring are the Antiguans in general, that I think but few of the inhabitants are aware of the real truth, but still think the coffin stands upright.
This strange practice of putting up the grave-stone at a distance from the grave is not the only instance of the kind to be met in the churchyard of St. John’s. At one of the west gates lies a stone slab, to the memory of the late organist; and upon reading the inscription, I supposed that the body reposed beneath. But not so: that lies far away, with “not a stone to mark the place.” Upon asking a pew-opener the reason for placing the slab in that situation, his reply was, “It does so nicely, you know, for the people to walk on, and looks well.”
The churchyard is entered by five iron gates, of handsome patterns. At the north, a flight of stone steps leads up to the church, while from the south gate, the building is approached by an easy and gradual ascent, paved with brick. The pillars of the south gate are surmounted by stone figures, representing St. John the Baptist, and St. John the Evangelist. These figures were intended to receive the vows of the good catholics at Dominica; but as it happened to be war time, when they took their departure from “la belle France,” on their passage they fell in with an English man-of-war, who most unceremoniously took them into keeping, and brought them to Antigua; where, by universal consent, they were placed as sentinels in their present position, instead of being decked out in gold and silver leaf, and mock jewels. The negroes, however, refuse to recognise them by their own titles, but have unanimously dubbed them “Adam and Eve”—the Baptist, I suppose, playing the part of the lady, as his garments are longer and more voluminous than those of his companion.
[[71]] See [Chapter XX].
[[72]] A descendant of Sir Thomas Warner, who planted the first English colony in Antigua.
[[73]] This strangely-worded inscription is copied verbatim.
[[74]] Slightly altered from Young’s “Night Thoughts.”
[[75]] Young’s “Night Thoughts,” Night 7th.
[[76]] To the organ is attached a choir, composed of the boys and girls from the parochial school.
[[77]] From this John Delap Halliday descends the present Admiral Tollemache—viz.—
Lionel Tollemache, 3rd Earl of Dysert, born June, 1708; married Grace, eldest daughter of John Earl of Granville, by whom he had (among other issue) a daughter, Jane, married, 1770, John Delap Halliday, of the Leasowes, county of Salop, and of Antigua, Esq., by whom she had issue, I. John Halliday, Admiral R.N., and who has assumed the name of Tollemache, and who married Elizabeth, second daughter of John, 3rd Earl of Aldborough, by whom he has, among other children, Elizabeth, the present Countess of Cardigan; and II. Charlotte, married Henry, fourth son of 6th Sir William Wolseley, of Wolseley, county Stafford.
[[78]] The gentleman who presented the pair of silver candlesticks for the communion table. He was an Irishman by birth and education; but after having served in the wars in Flanders, he emigrated to Antigua, and became Speaker of the House of Assembly in that island in 1702.
[[79]] It is said to have been done by lightning.