Cambridge

by Caryl Phillips

  On completion of this interlude, Mr Rogers replaced upon the table a piece of bread that was already half-way lifted to his mouth, and sought clarification from Mr McDonald that he had understood him correctly. He claimed that our physician, this same man who appeared to be defending the blacks, was one who had frequently spoken otherwise of our darker brethren. Mr McDonald smiled, and then prepared to defend himself, first by restating briefly his opinions upon the white populace in case there should have been any misunderstanding of his position. 'In short, our islands have become the midden for the detritus of the parent country.' At this point Mr McDonald paused for effect, and then continued. 'But this is not totally the fault of the white arrivant. Constant association with an inferior race will weaken the moral fibre of a white man and debase the quality of his life. A mere glance should be sufficient to convince an observer that the West Indian negro has all the characteristics of his race. That he steals, lies, is witless, incompetent, irresponsible, habitually lazy, and wantonly loose in his sexual behaviour, is apparent to even the most generous of those who would take sambo's part. It is only the dread of corporal punishment which keeps these incorrigible thieves in order. To each other they display unimaginable cruelty, and when they fight they are particularly adept at kicking and biting. All attempts at mental instruction having failed, it is to be regretted that only a hearty laying on of that hateful implement, the whip, will rid them of their rebellious thoughts.'

  I listened intently, and observed Mr Rogers nodding in agreement with some of what the doctor prescribed. Mr McDonald went on and claimed that the clearest evidence of West Indian moral turpitude was to be found in the social evil of miscegenation, a practice contrary to the Anglo-Saxon nature, and one that gave rise to a sub-species of hybrid. Some white men, though considering negroes little more than beasts of burden, had no objection to making these negroes partners of their illicit intercourse, and then condemning the issue of such unions to shame and degradation. The female offspring invariably take the name of housekeeper and in turn become the mistresses of white men, while the male offspring merely drag out an existence as scarcely tolerated spaniels permitted to lick the feet of their masters, but just as likely to be kicked out of doors on a whim. The mothers of such children face an even worse destiny, having been used by degenerate Englishmen who no doubt simply came to make a quick fortune and return rejoicing at their success. Such women are abandoned with little to sustain them socially but the significance given their litter's skin, and seldom even the most meagre of allowances. These dingy women may soon grow fat upon the bread of prostitution, and when their bodies become diseased, and their constitutions weakened by dissipation and excess, their sources of support fail, and the curse of poverty falls hard and heavy upon the afflictions of decrepit age. Their lot, truly, is wretched, more so when one considers that in the tropics, unlike England, immorality is impossible to conceal, for all is known and speedily rumoured abroad.

  I must concede that there followed a few moments of silence. Both men appeared to wonder if their talk had not gone too far and had, perhaps, angered me. For my own part I felt privileged to have witnessed such a debate between two responsible men, one clearly dominant over the other and likely to win any argument by force of personality, the other gifted with a more temperate spirit, but unable to stem the tide raging against him. Mr McDonald added a coda to his argument, in a most witty and informative manner. The separation of castes in India, he claimed, is not more formally observed than the careful division of shades in the tropics caused by indulgence in this miscegenation, or race-mixing. The offspring of a white man and a black woman is a mulatto; the mulatto and the black produce a sambo; from the mulatto and white comes the quadroon; from the quadroon and the white the mustee; the child of a mustee by a white man is called a musteefino; while the children of a musteefino are free by law, and rank as white persons to all intents and purposes.

  Mr McDonald's careful definitions caused some much-needed laughter all around. The divers black attendants, who had been audience to all that we had said, brought forth the Bristol beer and punch, along with dishes of tea. To a person they displayed the virtuous animal fidelity of the dog. Mr Rogers seemed anxious to leave our contentious zone of discussion. He therefore turned the conversation upon Mr McDonald's work, and skilfully diverted it from any scrutiny of his own duties within the Church.

  He inquired of Mr McDonald if he had explained to me the nature of a physician's responsibilities, and Mr McDonald asserted that he had done so. The doctor then informed us that he would gladly enlarge upon such of these responsibilities as might cause- us further amusement. He re-asserted that the hospital was crowded with patients who have little the matter with them, who can only diagnose their illness as a 'lilly pain here, massa', or 'a bad pain me somewhere, massa', and who evidently visit the sick-house only in order that they might idly sit and jabber away time with friends. Of the authentic negro diseases, chief among them would appear to be lameness. It is principally as a result of the chegoe, that ubiquitous diminutive fly which works itself into the feet to lay its eggs, and, if not carefully and swiftly extracted, will corrupt the flesh around it. It seems the negroes are all provided with small knives for the purpose of extracting the chegoe, but as no pain is felt until the sore is produced, the extreme laziness of the negro frequently leads them to neglect this simple precaution. As a result dirt will enter the wound and make it difficult to obtain a cure. (Sometimes the black will go lame for life.)

  The good doctor's general point about negro illness related to their cowardice. Mr McDonald asserted that in the matter of bodily pain it was not possible to be more craven than the sooty brethren. At the mere application of a poultice to a finger, or some such trifle, strong young bucks often cry out with tears running down their faces as though suffering amputation. At the conclusion of this ordeal the progeny of Afric's despised inhabitants are wont to clap their horny hands together, and, of a sudden, white grinders will shine bright from their black visages. This dread of medical treatment often leads them to conceal real disease, and such cowardice carries off many negroes each season. With this' final observation of negro life our good doctor, having satisfied his thirst and filled his belly, hauled himself to his feet. He bade us farewell, and declared that once he had attended to his duties on a nearby estate he would send back the carriage for his friend.

  Mr Rogers and I retired to the piazza, where we were able to view the good doctor riding off to repair the negroes of another owner. I felt sure that if I listened closely I might hear Mr Rogers whispering a prayer for their salvation. I looked across at Mr Rogers, having already conceived a design by which I might extract further information from our man of the cloth as to the fate of Mr Wilson and how he came to be replaced by the uncivil Mr Brown. The first strategy of this programme involved enquiring after and then listening to his deliberations upon his fellow members of the Church. His answers proved to confirm what I had suspected, that those in tropical holy orders are often lacking in both learning and piety, and serve as models of ill-conduct. Some are quite addicted to lewdness, drinking and gambling. Indeed, Mr Rogers suggested that some were better qualified to be retailers of salt-fish, or boatswains, rather than ministers of the Gospel. As to the reasons for this, they are two-fold. Firstly, tithes are customarily paid with produce of a decidedly inferior sort. Accordingly, emoluments vary considerably from year to year, but are never sufficient to support the superior churchman. As to the second reason, it would appear that the planters have little or no religion. The making and maintenance of money is their God, and the expenditure of time and thought upon religious subjects is deemed 'bad business'. Naturally enough, the ambitious or able minister is unlikely to be attracted to this tropical region.

  With regard to the spiritual welfare of the negro, Mr Rogers felt that as a member of the Anglican Church this was not his duty. The Moravians and Methodists seemed to find some purpose to such labour, but Mr Rogers claimed that
to pitch a sermon or an interpretation of the Gospel at a level base enough for the negro to understand would require a pastor with a thorough knowledge of negro customs, and modes of speech. Such a mentor would also have to instill in his charges the understanding that the emotions and intellect of the untutored savage are not those of the European, who learns from the Christian message a blessed form of self-control from an early age. A negro will one day shed tears at the plight and sufferings of our sweet saviour, and the very next day plead total ignorance of our redeemer's existence. Were one's aim to be a revolution in the moral conduct of the negro, then Mr Rogers was adamant that the teachings of massa would be of greater benefit than the preachings of any minister.

  It was at about this time that we fell into a deep and lengthy silence. I was trying to frame my next assault upon Mr Rogers when I heard a light snore emanate from his person. It seems as though the custom of taking a rest after lunch extends to those who watch over our spiritual and moral welfare. I longed for Mr Rogers to re-awaken so that I might question him of Mr Wilson, and to this end I even toyed with the idea of asking one of the male house negroes to arouse him. However, I finally decided it prudent to let him slumber in the shade of the piazza, for the stiff sea-breeze had died away and a slothful calm prevailed. The extensive view from the piazza features an expanse of harvestable vegetation, but the higher slopes are rich with thick dark forest, parts of which I imagine could never have been trodden by the feet of man. The arrangement of the majestic trees, some solitary, others elegantly grouped, presents a picturesque scene. These trees of noble growth cover all the banks and ridges, while the master-tree, the tall coconut, moves her fronds in stately regal fashion. These giant ostrich-feather branches hung almost motionless in what little breeze remained. Down towards the coast, which from the height of the Great House appears rough and barren, are clustered numerous fruit trees upon whom I am learning to bestow a name; the sea-side Grape, sugar-apple, breadfruit, soursop, pawpaw, custard apple, mango, lime, acacia, orange, guava, etc. Examples of all these trees are to be found, although I cannot as yet claim the expertise of a trained eye.

  Presently the carriage could be seen returning up the steep ascent of the hill. As though aware of my intentions all along, the frail Mr Rogers only now managed to stir himself from sleep. He shook slightly, as a puppy might, and then coughed heavily so that his body trembled like a leaf. He rose sheepishly, but stood formally to attention, embarrassed it seemed at having ascended into the higher world and left me unattended in this. Furthermore, he seemed distressed that he should have re-entered this world in such an ill-organized fashion. Our contrite churchman stuttered a few words of apology, then quickly gathered his walking cane and bade me a hearty and warm, if somewhat hurried, farewell. As I watched him climb aboard his carriage I found it difficult to arrest the laughter welling up inside me. Poor Mr Rogers. After enduring the predicament of trying to contain the excesses of his friend's well-lubricated tongue, he then fails wholly to engage with his host and imposes upon her an hour or so of his slumbering silence. I wondered if I would ever again set eyes upon this man's timid face. Goodbye, Mr Rogers!

  Feeling near-drained by what had already proved an exhausting and eventful day, I retired to my room to rest and prepare for my customary solitary dinner. Mr Brown had taken to dining alone, either after I had concluded my repast, or before I had begun it, according to his whim. However, I was delivered from a light siesta by a knock upon the door, which then opened. Before me stood Mr Brown, bold and unapologetic in his manner, asking if I might wish to dine with him this evening. I do not know if it was curiosity, or simply surprise that stirred me to agree, whereupon he nodded briskly and withdrew as quickly as he had appeared. The next on the scene was a joyful Stella, who bustled about as though I had in some way achieved a minor success. I resented greatly Stella's gay disposition and now solemnly wished that I had found some way to refuse Mr Brown's crudely presented offer of his company, but clearly it was too late.

  And so once again I found myself at my father's table in the company of the enigmatic Mr Brown. However, I was unable to credit my senses when we were at once joined by the same insolent negro woman who, as I had already noted, seemed to exercise some authority in the house beyond that of Stella. I asked Mr Brown outright who was this woman, and had she a position which entitled her to sit with us at table. He gave no more answer than a dismissal of the intrusive black wench with a wave of his hand, as though she were some trifle. She slid out noiselessly, but not before rewarding me with a spontaneous glimpse of her white grinders. Again I demanded some explanation of this slattern's presence, but Mr Brown sighed and answered that she was no more to him than Stella was to me. I thrust iron into my voice and declared that I would never enjoin Stella to sit with me at my dining table. Mr Brown appeared unconcerned, and remarked that when I had spent more time among them I might come to understand that everything is not as in England. This dismissive response made my blood boil, though I soon recaptured my equilibrium. Having achieved this little momentum I pressed on and asked after the nature of the earlier dispute witnessed between himself and the impressive black Hercules. Mr Brown's features assumed a most weary aspect, and he set down his implements as though preparing himself for some lengthy courses of action. Either he would explode in fury, or he would patiently explain to me what I sought to know. I held my breath, for I confess I was a little nervous, unsure as I was which way he might spring, for my understanding of this man was slight. As it happened, I was to be rewarded with an explanation.

  He began with a short summary of the deficiency laws, which were introduced with the intention of increasing the white element in these islands. Thus an estate could be fined for having less than one white person to every thirty-five negroes. The fear was of insurrection, and discipline became the chief and governing principle on every estate. Unfortunately, these deficiency laws proved difficult to regulate, for Caribbean emigration was equally difficult to promote. Those who came were usually the poorest sort of tradesmen and clerks, unqualified in any type of plantation work. Carpenters who knew not a saw from a chisel, bricklayers who knew not wood from stone, book-keepers who were illiterate and innumerate, so that the numbers of negroes in proportion to whites was not only growing, but the quality of the whites was rapidly falling. Mr Brown continued at his unhurried pace. 'The old fool you call Hercules is the chief trouble-maker of the estate. He steals, lies and provokes the others to acts of minor rebellion which must be quashed at once.' Mr Brown apologized, yes, he apologized, for any discomfort caused by my witnessing of his behaviour, but he insisted that punishment, varying in severity according to the master's disposition, often called for the use of the whip. With this he rose from the table, bowed and left me to complete my dinner alone.

  I must conclude my summary of this remarkable day by acknowledging that I am learning a little about the passions of the white society in these parts. I will now write to Father and tell him of my adventure. I will also relate to him the little I know of his manager Mr Wilson (and his subsequent flight to a neighbouring island), and inform him of the strange presence of this Mr Brown at the helm of his estate. (Good manners will prevent my mentioning, at this time, Mr Brown's friendship with the negro woman.) I also feel compelled, having listened to the words of Mr McDonald with some interest, to recommend that Father either take a more active interest in his estate, which would involve nothing less than a protracted visit, or find some way of relinquishing control, for surely this system of long-distance ownership is contributing to social anarchy in these parts.

  I have received an awkward and somewhat surprising communication from Mr McDonald pertaining to last week's lunch with Mr Rogers and myself. It appears that Mr Rogers felt that his colleague's behaviour merited an apology of some form, so he persuaded Mr McDonald to set down his excuses on paper. Heat and drink, an excess of both, are his principal self-exonerations, these plus the novelty of a lady's company and the neglect of pr
oper deportment in such circumstances. I answered briefly, dispatching the letter by way of Stella's network, assuring Mr McDonald that there was no necessity for such over-abundant apologies. If he felt that he had drunk a little too much and over-anointed his tongue, he might rest assured that he had let nothing slip which might be interpreted as in bad taste, nor had he been in any way offensive to myself. No sooner had the letter vanished from my sight than who should present himself at the door to my chamber but me correspondent himself, laden with freshly picked flowers and making supplication in a not wholly appealing fashion. I ushered my visitor back into the central hall where I promised I would soon engage with him. Stella was unable to erase the smile from her face. She took the flowers and undertook to find them a vase in which they might flourish.

  I joined the good doctor and found that imp of satan, Aberdeen, perched at his feet and buffing up his boots, while the young scoundrel, Westmoreland, was one moment dusting down his massa's jacket and the next flicking an orange bough to keep flies and other insects from his person. I dismissed them hurriedly, and proceeded to take up my station in a lounger opposite to Mr McDonald's. I felt an unfamiliar discomposure in the good doctor's company, and thought it best myself to broach the choice of subjects. I declared myself glad that he had come to visit, but added that my time here seemed to be slipping by and still I knew little of anything beyond this estate. At this Mr McDonald seemed to find his cue. He suggested that I had almost regained full strength, and that we might explore the island in each other's company. I assured him that such a scheme might be most edifying. The project having been descanted upon and defined, we fell into silence. Then Mr McDonald rose from his chair, drew himself up to his full height and blurted out what he had truly come to deliver. As he did so his eyes glistened and his lips quivered with emotion. He warned me that Mr Rogers's affections for myself were of a not altogether honourable nature, and that I should be wary of how I might proceed with him. I tried hard not to laugh, for it was becoming apparent that both this clown, and his oafish friend, were engaged in some manner of feud for my favours, Mr McDonald being the more determined of the pair. I believed Mr Rogers's affection to be no more than mere fancy, whereas Mr McDonald's was evidently embossed with an altogether different stamp. I too rose from my lounger, and thanked Mr McDonald for his information. I accompanied him to the door, although his pace was somewhat too rapid for me. Having delivered his fabrication the tropical doctor wished now to escape as quickly as possible before being quizzed and discovered as a mischief-maker. I watched him until he disappeared over the side of the hill and was swallowed up by the shrubbery that clothed the rugged descent down to the island road.