In the former chapter I endeavoured to give some description of the doctrine of Obeah. There are also several mysterious rites current among the negroes on which they rely to find out a thief. One of these trials by ordeal is thus performed: they procure some of the leaves of the “flower-fence,” or “Barbados’ pride,” (called by the negroes “doodle doo,”) and lay them in a heap, in some peculiar manner, with a black dog (not a quadruped, but a small copper coin of about three farthings sterling, current in this island a few years ago) in the middle. They do not tie this bundle together, but by the manner in which it is placed they are enabled to raise it to the neck of the suspected person without its falling to pieces. The accused is then to say, (holding the bundle under their throat at the same time,) “Doodle doo, doodle doo, if me tief de four dog, (or what- ever it may be that is missing,) me wish me tongue may loll out of me mout.” If nothing takes place, the person is innocent, and the charm is tried upon another, until the guilty one’s turn comes, when immediately their tongue hangs out of their mouth against their will.
Another trial by ordeal (which, I believe, has formerly been practised in England, and has probably been taught them by the whites) is thus performed:—A door-key is placed between the leaves of the Bible, upon the 18th and 19th verses of the 50th Psalm, and the book is then bound tightly round so that the key cannot fall out; care must be taken at the same time that the key is sufficiently large, that after being placed upon the verses mentioned, part of the handle or bole may be left out. Two persons, the accused and accuser, balance the bound book by placing the first finger of the right hand under the bole of the key, and in this situation make use of the following incantation, (as I suppose I must call it:) “By St. Peter, by St. Paul, you tief me hog,” (or whatever else it may be that is stolen;) the accused answers, “By St. Peter, by St. Paul, me no tief you hog;” this is repeated thrice by both parties. If the accused is guilty, the key immediately turns, but if not, the charm is tried upon all who are suspected, until the event takes place. What St. Peter or St. Paul have to do with this, I could never learn, but to me it seems very shocking to make a conjuring book of the Bible. In respect to this part of superstition, the negroes are like the natives of the east, who never lose anything without trying some charm, either by balls of wax, grains of rice, or something similar.[[15]] There is another curious way by which the negroes endeavour to recover their stolen property. For example: If they lose a fowl or a pig, or indeed any other article, and they suspect it is stolen by their neighbours, they walk up and down the street, calling out, “Let go me fowl—let go me fowl! If you no let go me fowl, me tro grabe durtty upon you. Let go me fowl, me say!” If the person who stole the fowl hears this denunciation, he immediately looses it, in terror of the consequences; but if the threat is not attended to, the owner of the lost biped takes a dog (the same copper coin I have before mentioned) and an egg, and proceeds to a burial-ground. Here they look out for the grave of one of their friends, and depositing the dog and the egg, make use of an incantation, and taking up a little of the soft mould off the grave, depart. This mould, or grabe durtty, as they term it, they sprinkle all about in those streets where they think the suspected parties are more likely to walk, believing, that if the thief passes over it, it immediately causes his body to swell, and no medicine can give relief—death alone can end their misery. So terrible to the negroes is the denunciation, “Me tro grabe durtty upon you,” that if possible, they will restore the goods pilfered to the last particle.
They have several other charms, all of which they deem infallible. When they fancy they are under the power of Obeah, they procure a snake, kill and skin it; when the skin is thoroughly dried, they bind it round their leg, and feel easier in mind, supposing the one charm will counteract the other. Again, if sent out of an errand, and they loiter about, to prevent any scolding from their employers, they pick a blade of a peculiar species of grass, and place it under their tongue, which they believe has the power of preventing any angry words. This also is done when they wish to escape punishment or detection.
I am aware that it is not the negroes alone who are given to superstition—to using charms and observing omens; the Greeks and Romans were famous for this practice; and in my own country, among the lower classes, most of the old women have a cramp-bone in their pockets, to drive away pains; the tip of a tongue, or a stone with a hole in it, for luck; and a horseshoe nailed to the door, to prevent the entrance of witches. Our seamen, too, are strict disciples of superstition, and rear her many an altar. I once heard a captain of a merchantman who trades to Antigua, speaking of this subject, and laughing at the generality of sailors for paying attention to this or that omen. “I don’t believe in anything of the kind,” said he. “What can a dolphin, or a Mother Cary’s chicken, (the stormy petrel,) have to do with a gale of wind? It’s nonsense,—altogether nonsense. Of course, though, it would be only a madman who would whistle in a storm or sail on a Friday, if they could possibly help it!” I wished to ask what poor Friday[[16]] had done, or if Eolus disliked whistling.
All superstitious people, in every part of the world, are prone to believe in the existence of imaginary beings; and while the English have their ghosts, the Scotch their brownies, and the Irish their banshees, the negroes have their jumby.[[17]] These creatures, like all of their class, love to frequent churchyards, lonely roads, and the margin of ponds. They are represented by the believers in this creed to be very revengeful and malicious; strangling children, knocking down people, frightening old women into fits, and indeed, doing all the mischief they can. I have heard that “Spring Gardens,” the part of the town we reside in, is a favourite spot for their ambulations; but I cannot say I have as yet formed any acquaintance with these fleshless beings. Many are the tales related of their exploits,—tales more terrible than that of the poor ghost in “Hamlet,” whose “lightest word would harrow up the soul.” But as I have too much love for my readers, to wish to “freeze their blood,” and all those other dreadful threats his ghostship promised his hopeful son, I will merely relate a few little incidents about these night-loving people.
A servant who once lived with us had occasion to go a few miles into the country after dark. Upon his return the next day, he gave the following most frightful account of his night’s adventure. He said, that after getting a little way out of the town, a string of jumbies met him, dressed all in white, who held up their bony fingers at him in a menacing manner. He was very much alarmed, he said, but determined to proceed as fast as he could, without looking behind him; for if by any chance he had happened to turn his head, they would have immediately strangled him. Finding they could not get this advantage over him, they went behind him, and “whispered soft and low”—“James! James!” Although not over-pleased at this salutation, he thought it best to bear it in silence, and hurry on as fast as he could.
At length he came to a pond, known by the name of “Tom Long’s Pond,” which is always reckoned a favourite resort for jumbies—a kind of Vauxhall of theirs, I suppose. Here he met with another troop, who joined their comrades in tormenting him, until our poor benighted traveller hardly knew what to do. Fear overcame him, the perspiration streamed from off his brow, and his excessive emotion caused “each particular hair to stand on end, like quills upon the fretful porcupine.” In this awful situation, he remembered, that if he dispossessed himself of his upper garment, turned it before the jumbies’ faces, and then put it on again, wrong side out, they could not hurt him. He tried this remedy; and as soon as his dress was altered, his unpleasant companions gave a loud scream, fled from him in every direction, and left him to prosecute his walk in silence and solitude.
This is James’s version of the circumstance. I, who was an unknown, but attentive listener, could not help asking (so wishful was I of gaining information upon this important subject) if there was any great merit in turning his coat. “Oh, yes!” was the reply; “jumbies can never hurt you, if you can only have strength to turn your jacket.” So, it appears, that whatever may be the character of jumbies in other respects, they shew their good sense in disliking turncoats.
During the first few weeks of my residence in this island, I was staying upon an estate a few miles from the capital. Having for some length of time seen nothing but the “sky above and the sea below,” it may be imagined how happy I was once more to tread terra firma; and I lost no time in exploring this, to me, new world. In these rambles, I was attended by my servant, a rosy-cheeked English girl, who gave utterance to her surprise at tropical scenes and tropical customs, in like sentences to these: “Lawk, ma’am!” “Well, I never!” “Lawk-a-daisy-me!” One day we wandered far and wide; and after many devious routes, my attention was at last attracted by the appearance of a cluster of trees. I am very fond of these ornaments of the vegetable world; I love to watch the play of the sunbeams upon their leaves—to listen to the melody of the gentle gale, as it whispers among them; and when in this “far, far west,” they greeted my eye with their verdant foliage, I was anxious to make their acquaintance. Upon a nearer approach, I found they formed a complete fringe to a kind of rivulet; they were mangroves, and very beautiful they looked. We walked by the side of them for some distance, and at length came upon the high-road, which crosses the rivulet. Here we fell in with a few larger trees, of a different species; and near to them was a spring of water. A soothing silence reigned around, occasionally broken by the murmuring of the breeze, the buzzing of those pigmies of the feathered race—the humming-birds, or the coo of the ground-doves, those constant frequenters of all sylvan spots. Now and then, the faint hum of human voices broke upon the ear, as the slaves were returning from the cane-fields, it being near the close of the day.
Altogether, I was quite pleased with the spot, and hardly knew how to leave it. As I was returning to the house, with “pensive steps and slow,” I overtook the driver, one of the head slaves upon the property. With the native politeness which many negroes possess, he pulled off his hat, with “How d’ye, missis?” his black sparkling eyes, his white teeth glistening through his thick lips, his ebon complexion, and his large straw hat, rendered him quite a novelty to me. I remarked to him, what a pretty spot the spring was situated in, and thought it must be very serviceable to the estate. “Yes, missis,” rejoined he; “it one pretty ’pring ’nough; but me no like to go dere much at night.” I asked the reason; it brought the following tale:—“Some time aback, one soger buckra run away from de barracks. He was gone long time, till at last sombody go tell upon he where he go hide. De soger cappen send two oder sogers to go look for he, an bring he to town; bery well, dey find he, an was going to fetch he back to town, when, just as he get to dis ’pring, ’fore de oder sogers no war he go do, he jump, bram! right into de ’pring; an by de time dey manage to get he out, he go dead; so eber since dat time, jumbies come see soger’s jumby, an dey ’top here an make dance; so we no lub to come here much self.”