Cambridge (10 page)

Without rank and order any society, no matter how sophisticated, is doomed to admit the worst kind of anarchy. In this West Indian sphere there is amongst the white people too little attention paid to differences of class. A white skin would appear passport enough to a life of privilege, without due regard to the grade of individuals within the range of that standing. The only exception I have so far observed was the modesty displayed by the book-keeper who first conveyed me here. However, sensible to propriety, he has subsequently maintained his distance. The other men, perhaps because I am a woman, have shown little courtesy in affording the attentions proper to my rank. They converse with me as freely and as openly as they wish. This is barely tolerable amongst the whites, but when I find the blacks hereabouts behaving in the same manner I cannot abide it, and see no reason why I should accommodate myself to the lack of decorum which characterizes this local practice.

Today I arrived at the luncheon table and yet again found Mr Brown's strange and haughty black woman, Christiania, seated opposite me. I ordered her to retire from the table, for I am not accustomed to eating my meal in the company of slaves. Further, I informed this coal-black
ape-woman
that I desired her to put on a serving gown and take up a role among my attendants, male and female, who properly circled the table to wait upon their mistress. On a property belonging to Christian owners, this was her rightful place. Unfortunately, she seemed to display a total lack of concern at my words, and showed no sign of quitting her chair, so I asked her again if she would kindly remove her person in order that I might commence my luncheon. The wench cast on me a look of intense passion that indeed appeared unhinged, her eyes blazing with a malice the source of which I imagined to reside deep in her bosom, springing from some other hurt than that which I had inflicted upon her. Her manner becoming frivolous, she then tossed her head in seeming annoyance. 'Massa say I can eat at table. Why missy not like me?' This, as you might imagine, only served to compound the insult of her presence. That she was asking after me an explanation of my behaviour caused my blood to overheat, and I began to tremble with indignation.

Again, this time in a more uncompromising voice, I ordered her to rise and leave my table. When it became clear that she was set on her stubborn course I turned to the chief butler, a slight-looking fellow greying around the temples who, it must be admitted, appeared at least as outraged as I by this woman's display of intransigence. I ordered this black retainer to escort the negress from my table. He immediately set down his burnished silver platter and approached her, whereupon she began to scream in the most reckless and foul-spoken manner, spitting out words whose meaning I dared not imagine. It proved sufficient to cause the butler to back away. The unfortunate lackey turned to me, pleading for clemency. 'Missy, she too dangerous, altogether too dangerous.' For a third time,
now beside myself with fury, I shouted my commands at the black woman, but her lungs were better fitted for the occasion than mine, as she loosed her invective upon me, howling and hurling abuse like some sooty witch from
Macbeth.
At this juncture, I am sorry to admit, my cue was to flee into the sanctuary of my bed-chamber where I concealed both my tear-stained face and my impotent rage.

I had determined to isolate myself in my soft and feminine chamber, uncharacteristic of the Great House, until the merciful day of my departure, which I knew I would welcome much as a prisoner might greet the end of his hated sentence. It was then that I heard a knock upon the door, and the quiet voice of my companion Stella. I drew back the bolt and admitted her to my chamber, whereupon I noted that she seemed equally afflicted by the events that I had recently been compelled to endure. Further, she appeared distressed that she had not been in attendance to offer me support both moral and practical. Quickly I shut in the door and bade her rest in a large basket-chair, while I reclined upon the Holland sheet. 'Missy,' she began, 'Christiania is obeah woman, but massa do like she and that is enough.' Well, this was information too rich for me to comprehend at once, so I asked her to explain.

According to Stella's testimony, the negro belief in
obeah
involves the possession of a variety of strange objects which are used for incantations: cats' ears, the feet of various animals, human hair, fish bones, etc., all of which make their vital contribution to the practice of the magical art. One skilled in the practice of obeah is able to both deliver persons to, and retrieve them from the clutches of their enemies. Such practitioners hold great sway over their fellow blacks, and they sell medicines and charms in profusion, thus acquiring a status unsurpassed within the community. It would appear that this traffic in charms and remedies is the business of Christiania, which manifestly explained the reluctance of my other slaves
to cross the woman, but assuredly did not explain Mr Brown's desire to have her share his table.

Putting aside all modesty, I felt it only proper that I investigate further. I asked if the black Christiania was indeed a slave and the property of my family. 'Yes, missy. She in your service.'
But what is her role on the estate?
'Missy, she just in the house. She don't have no use as such.' I began to grow impatient. I asked if she was something to Mr Brown, but Stella professed ignorance of what I was suggesting. I informed Stella that I had been sufficiently alert to realize that it is sometimes the custom for white men to retain what they term
housekeepers.
These swarthy dependants elevate their status by prostrating themselves. Stella was vociferous, in defence of whom I am not sure. She spoke against these liaisons with such force that I recalled the proverbial saw that 'the lady doth protest too much'. I did not think that I imagined a conspiracy of black womanhood against white, but I knew that I would find this difficult to prove. Therefore I thought it best to reveal to Stella my awareness of such
amours,
in the hope that she would realize that by speaking frankly, she was unlikely to cause me grief.

Apparently such illicit relationships came about because comparatively few wives journey out to the tropics, and those that do are often distinguished by the meagreness of their conversation with their husbands. As a result concubinage appears to have become universal. I revealed to Stella that I was also aware that the highest position on which a sable damsel could set her sights was to become the mistress of a white man. They seek such unions with planters, overseers, book-keepers, doctors, merchants and lawyers, and when their beauties fail, they seek similar positions for their daughters, knowing that success will assure them of a life of ease and prestige among their own people. This much I have gleaned from my brief perusal of the tawdry newspapers, from conversation, and from a knowledge of human conduct observed not only in these parts but in England also. Naturally, the children of such
unions receive the status of the slave mother, unless manumitted by their fathers. They seldom achieve recognition as full heirs, and rarely rise above the skills of the artisan. These hybrid people, who hold themselves above the black, but below the white, abound throughout these island possessions as physical evidence of moral corruption.

All of this I conveyed to Stella in the hope that she might be persuaded to share her knowledge with me, but I succeeded only in arousing her ire. It appeared that she took offence at the manner in which I portrayed the ambitions of black womanhood, but she manifested her rage not by overt onslaught, but by covert smouldering. I asked her if it were not true that young black wenches are inclined to lay themselves out for white lovers, and hence bring forth a spurious and degenerate breed, neither fit for the field nor for any work that the true-bred negro would relish. She would not answer. I asked her if it was not entirely understandable that such women would become licentious and insolent past all bearing because of their privileged position? Again, she would say nothing in response. I informed her that I have even heard intelligence that if a mulatto child threatens to interrupt a black woman's pleasure, or become a troublesome heir, there are certain herbs and medicines, including the juice of the cassava plant, which seldom fail to free the mother from this inconvenience. At this point Stella seemed ready to quit my chamber. Her insolence fired me, and I resolved to cast my accusatory stone where it properly belonged. I demanded that Stella immediately conduct me to Mr Brown. At this Stella protested that it was the height of the afternoon, and that I should not be exposed to the vertical rays from on high, but I insisted. The arrogance of the inky wench, who had dared publicly to preside at my table, still burned within me. I wished to quiz Mr Brown as to her status.

Indeed the sun was high. I had but stepped ten paces from the Great House before I knew that I ought not to be so exposed.
Stella was correct. We were attended by Hazard and Androcles, two inferior lackeys who carried our parasols and sauntered along with an air which belongs to creatures unfettered by those responsibilities which are the familiar burden of rational humanity. Stella carried herself with comical self-assurance, quite as if she were a white. I can remember little of the walk to the fields, where according to
fair
Stella our Mr Brown was supervising his drivers, but I do recall that on more than one occasion I felt sure that I should expire before we reached our destination. Inwardly I cursed myself for even attempting such a journey, but after what seemed an eternity Stella finally pointed out Mr Brown. As we approached, a flight of birds rose in the air and cast a shadow like that of a cloud, causing the sun to darken for a few seconds. I found new resolution, and stormed ingloriously across the field, leaving instructions that Stella was not to follow.

The slaves ceased their Sisyphean labours and inclined their heads towards the wild Englishwoman charging across the denuded cane-piece. Noticing this, Mr Brown understood that something was amiss. He too turned and watched, waiting, hands upon hips and whip in hand, for my approach. 'Mr Brown,' I demanded, 'what is the meaning of this black woman sharing my dining table?' Mr Brown stared at me as though I had finally taken leave of my senses in this inhospitable climate. 'I will not tolerate such a vile and offensive perversion of good taste,' I cried. 'I demand your assurance that she will never again be allowed to disgrace my table.' Mr Brown raised a hand to block the sun from his face. He seemed rather confused by my performance, and he nodded as though uncertain of why he was doing so. For some time we stood, toe to toe, two solitary white people under the powerful sun, casting off our garments of white decorum before the black hordes, each vying for supremacy over the other.

I played my final card. 'Mr Brown, if you do not display more consideration for my position, immediately upon my return
I shall have you replaced.' Mr Brown, with no discernible movement of his body, and certainly without taking his eyes from my face, called to his trustee, Fox. He ordered this black man to bear me back to the Great House. Fox, a somewhat docile but evidently sturdy negro, positioned himself before me. I repeated my threat, but Mr Brown simply uttered the word 'Fox', at which point the nigger laid his black hands upon my body, at which I screamed and felt my stomach turn in revulsion, at which its contents emptied upon the ground. Despite the heat of the day, I felt a cold shudder through my body, and I tried desperately to keep back a sob of distress. Thereafter, I have to confess that my memory remains blank until I regained consciousness in the coolness of my chamber with my Stella in attendance on me.

I judged from the sounds of nature without, and the darkness within, that the later hours of the evening were upon us. I was pleased to see the loyal Stella hover over me with concern writ large and bold across her sooty face. How far she has come in matching the loyalty of the dearly departed Isabella! Although sadly lacking the natural advantages of my former companion, and incapable of mastering even the most elementary intellectual science of the alphabet, my sable companion has virtue still. Her smiling ebon face and broadly grinning lips, which display to good advantage her two rows of ivory, offer a greeting that has helped make tolerable my sojourn on this small island in the Americas. I have been thinking seriously of taking her back with me to England, but my fear is that she may be mocked as an exotic, as are the other blacks who congregate about the parish of St Giles and in divers parts of our kingdom. However, when the time is ripe I will suggest to her that she might wish to meet with her master in his own country, the prospect of which, I am sure, will delight her. I cannot believe that any West Indian negro would spurn the opportunity of serving their master a quart of ale and a tossed tea-cake on a wintry English night.

On my regaining fuller awareness, my first enquiry of Stella
brought forth the much feared response. Indeed there was much to regret. It would appear that Fox carried me bodily back to the Great House, and Stella has sat with me since. Stella informed me that Mr McDonald was summoned to attend, and that having done so he has stayed on in the hope that he might be present once I had recovered my senses. I instructed Stella to send him away, which she proceeded to do. She returned within the minute, a light smile etched upon her sable countenance. It seems that she is no longer fond of our physician, having detected a certain warmth in his passions towards me which she is happy to see dowsed by my new coolness. Stella served me yet another glass of the medicinal
sangaree
and began to inform me of Mr Brown's concern for my condition. I said nothing, thus giving her the chance to release from within whatever was troubling her mind. She paused, and then seized the opportunity. Stella suggested that Mr Brown is in a difficult situation, having neither wife, nor children, and he has been upon this plantation for many years, first as book-keeper, lately as assistant, and now as overseer and manager. I let her continue. Stella added that nobody knows the plantation as Mr Brown does and that although he is hard, and perhaps a little coarse and unconventional, he is generally known to be a fair man, the implication behind the black woman's peroration being that my conduct had been somehow improper to interfere in his smooth running of the estate. I sighed. What this sooty illiterate could never hope to understand is that by coming to visit I was far exceeding the duties that most proprietors set for themselves. And without a visit, I could never have discovered that my father's deputed authority was being abused and his property, including dear Stella, exploited. I held my tongue and let her continue. Her final words on the subject were poignant, if somewhat offensive, although I took it that they were not meant to be interpreted as being disrespectful. 'Here is no place for missy. Missy have a better life in she own country.' I smiled at Stella, even as I felt my eyelids grow heavy with sleep's
ever-increasing burden. So missy have a better life in her own country? Perhaps Stella thinks that missy ought to hurry back to Mr Thomas Lockwood? Perhaps Stella thinks missy is jealous of Christiania and her obeah? Who knows what she thinks. I asked Stella to sit with me, worried as I was that my dreams might become over-populated with dark incubae. She turned down the light, folded her hands into a comfortable bundle, and dropped them into her dark lap. I knew she would not desert me, not this evening.