During former days of slavery, it has often been the practice to carry on the boiling of sugar throughout the whole night. Upon such occasions, the poor overseer had to keep his place in the boiling-house, to see that the slaves attended to their duty. There is an anecdote told of a West Indian overseer which proves him to have been rather clever in the art of dissimulation. He was a man of reserved manners and of extreme taciturnity, seldom speaking to the negroes, unless, indeed, giving them a stroke or two from a rattan which, from custom, he carried in his hand, can be termed speaking; but he was a favourite with his employer, who thought him watchful as well as careful—two very necessary virtues in days of slavery. From some cause or the other, he had lost the sight of one of his eyes, but which disaster, from a latent spark of pride, he was very desirous of concealing. While in the “boiling-house” during the day, quietly seated in his cherry-tree chair, and narrowly watching the movements of the negroes, it was his custom to place his hand over the affected organ. But as evening came on, and “tired nature” craved repose, he altered his plan of operation, and covering his other eye, he allowed his rayless orb to glare “horribly stern” upon the toiling slaves, who, unconscious of his visual defect, and noting his movements, by which one of his eyes was ever apparently fixed upon them, exclaimed—“Eh! eh! war dis?—buckra oberseer cleber true; he make one yeye (eye) sleep while toder keep watch!”
To return to our overseer’s duty. Perhaps some of my readers may be inclined to think this kind of life described not the most enviable, and their “good luck” in meeting with such a situation very illusory. Like, however, the solitary waste in the Eastern story of “Abdallah,” this life of drudgery leads to riches. A few years over, and if the overseer is “smart” in his business, he gets promoted to “manager,” marries, perhaps, his former master’s daughter, or some other fair one, starts his horse and gig, purchases a dozen or two of wine, and a decent suit of clothes; and what with his salary, and the pickings and gleanings procured from off the property, he begins to make a show, and ventures to give a dinner-party to the “great people.”
Another year or so, and if the island is blessed with fine and copious rains, and the estate makes a good crop in consequence, the proprietor in England experiences great delight, and by the return packet, despatches a commission, promoting our ci-devant overseer to the situation of attorney as well as manager. Now, in truth, he begins to raise his head, like other mushrooms after a shower of rain, and thinks himself a man of family. His gig is replaced by a rattling, shaking, tumble-down carriage, drawn by a pair of spavined horses, and further graced by a shoeless coachman, his head surmounted by a pitiful beaver, encircled by a gold or silver band, his only other article of livery consisting of a scarlet waistcoat, made perhaps from some cast-off militia uniform. A little meagre black boy, whose habiliments are upon a similar scale to the coachman’s, serves the office of footman, and attends upon “the ladies” in their morning drive, with a grace and grimace most admirably seconded by the monkeys in the zoological gardens of London. Nor is the starting of this equipage all that marks the change; Mr. Attorney becomes more egotistical every day—his cellar receives a stock of champagne, (or perry,) and he cries, “Taste my wine—it is excellent, I do assure you. I cannot drink bad wine; I have never been used to it!” His larder becomes replenished with richer fare. “Try this turtle-soup,” says he; “you’ll find it superb—my cook is celebrated for his skill. I can tolerate nothing that is indifferent at my table.” He procures a commission in the militia, and sets up for the house of assembly; and being elected, takes his place among that august body with a vast deal of dignity. He makes no long speeches, ’tis true; but, instead, shakes his head with an overpowering gravity, and insinuates, “I think the more,” taking good care, however, to chime in with the strongest party.
His family becomes of some importance; his sons are intended for the bar, or the church; and one is destined to step into his own shoes. He next looks out for some poor damsel, who, to save herself from actual starvation, agrees to wear out her strength, and prostrate her talents in endeavouring to inculcate into the minds of his daughters the elementary branches of education for a sum your washerwoman would scorn to take.
Thus, as we have seen, the overseer rises to manager, the manager to attorney, and, like the worthless grub, when it puts on the butterfly’s painted wings, and, soaring on the bland and beautiful zephyr, scorns his former race, who yet remain grovelling in the dust, and fancies itself of a higher creation; so the attorney, as he gains the pinnacle of his ambition, forgets his former lowly state and penniless pockets, and, with haughty brow and over weening pride, proclaims himself an aristocrat. How very fast mushrooms do spring up!
But it may be asked, “What salary does an attorney receive to enable him to keep up all this state of grandeur? surely it must be something handsome?” In answer, it must be remarked, that such affairs are not conducted in the West Indies as they are in England. This is the country for a poor man to make a display in—here he may run his carriage without fearing a visit from a tax-gatherer; or dress up his servant in livery without having to pay 1l. 4s. per annum. His wine costs him about 2s. sterling per bottle; claret, 1s.; and “real Cognac” can be obtained for 2s. 6d. Before emancipation, the attorney and manager employed as many of the slaves as suited them, in the capacity of domestic servants, which slaves were of course fed from the estate provision; then the attorney has one or two horses allowed him, and if he purchases any more from his private funds, the estate finds them in corn and grass; he keeps a flock of sheep, for which the property also stands caterer; and now and then his employer may forward him a hogshead of porter, or a pipe of Madeira, besides other little presents, consisting of barrels of beef, or pork, or any other little matters. Thus, in the end, his pomp and grandeur is kept up at a very moderate charge to his own pockets.
It cannot be supposed that I intend to assert, that the aristocracy of Antigua is wholly composed of the fungi tribe, or that all her planters are of the upstartish class it has pleased me to describe. Far from it; an attentive perusal of these pages will prove, on the contrary, that there are to be found among them families, whose genealogical tree bears many a goodly shoot—through whose veins runs a stream of England’s richest blood: the names of Warner, Williams, Byam, Martin, Ottleys, with many others, have long stood pre-eminent in the annals of Antigua; while their descendants have kept up their high station in the society of the island.
But to return to the mushroom gentry. While they are travelling the high-road to preferment and honour, their wives are proceeding with railway speed in the paths of affectation and conceit. From the more useful occupations of washing their own clothes, and mending their own stockings, they now play the part of “my lady,” and pass their time in lolling upon a sofa, with an open book before them, ready to take up should “company” arrive; or with wondering ears, listen to their daughters bungling through one of Mozart’s waltzes, or stammering over a French fable.
Yet it is but proper to observe, all the “ladies” of this class of aristocrats do not spend their time in this indolent manner. No—far from it. Many of them have an eye to business amid all their grandeur, and keep, in a little tenement adapted to the purpose, a good stock of salt pork and salt fish; mackerels, herrings, and “alewives;”[[55]] corn-flour, tobacco, and candles; besides various articles of finery and coarse cloths, which they dispense to the negroes upon the neighbouring estates, at the very moderate profit of about 50 per cent.! Nor is this the sum-total of their industry; their yard is well supplied with poultry, their gardens with vegetables, if they lack flowers; and many a goodly-sized swine enriches their pigsties. When these last-mentioned quadrupeds have exchanged their Saxon for their Norman names, as “Wamba” observes, the lady of the house, on “notable thoughts intent,” packs up their delicate “sides and quarters,” and conveys them, or has them conveyed, to a snug corner of the carriage about to convey her honourable husband to the capital, to meet in “conclave grave” his noble compeers. After setting down their master at the door of the court-house, “Mr. John,” the coachman, or “Mr. Thomas,” the footman, draws these choice viands from their retreat; and while the owner of the defunct pigs is busy in making laws, or settling the affairs of nations, his servants are disposing of them to the best bidder, or laying in a store of bread in their stead. In the same manner, corn-fed mutton, poultry, eggs, and fresh butter, find their way to St. John’s market; and, by the magician-like wand of commerce, return to our manager’s managing lady, in the form of wine, tea, or loaf-sugar.
Of course, when these “ladies of distinction” draw on their mitts, and make their appearance in the drawing-room, the shop is banished from thoughts and conversation; and if not literature, at least topics of scandal, rank, and lineage, are discussed in its place. Some great-great-grandfather, who, from some freak of royalty has been dubbed knight, or else some imaginary kinsman, is called up from their long-forgotten tomb, to stand as a kind of foundation to their present greatness.