From St. Lucie I proceeded to Barbadoes in quest of a conveyance to the Island of Trinidad.
Near Bridgetown, the capital of Barbadoes, I saw the metallic cuckoo already alluded to.
Barbadoes is no longer the merry island it was when I visited it some years ago:
Infelix habitum, temporis hujus habet.
There is an old song, to the tune of "La Belle Catharine," which must evidently have been composed in brighter times:
Come let us dance and sing,
While Barbadoes bells do ring;
Quashi scrapes the fiddle-string,
And Venus plays the lute.
Quashi's fiddle was silent, and mute was the lute of Venus during my stay in Barbadoes. The difference betwixt the French and British islands was very striking. The first appeared happy and content; the second were filled with murmurs and complaints. The late proceedings in England concerning slavery and the insurrection in Demerara had evidently caused the gloom. The abolition of slavery is a question full of benevolence and fine feelings, difficulties and danger:
Tantum ne noceas, dum vis prodesse videto.
It requires consummate prudence and a vast fund of true information in order to draw just conclusions on this important subject. Phaeton, by awkward driving, set the world on fire: "Sylvæ cum montibus ardent." Dædalus gave his son a pair of wings without considering the consequence; the boy flew out of all bounds, lost his wings, and tumbled into the sea:
Icarus, Icariis nomina fecit aquis.