Newton Forster Part 16

"Well, by your account there is n.o.body free, unless it be _Liberty_ herself."

"Why, sir," rejoined the planter, "to prove to you that I was correct when I a.s.serted that there was no such thing in this world as liberty, paradoxical as it may appear, Liberty is but Liberty when in _bondage_.

Release her, and she ceases to exist; she has changed her nature and character; for Liberty _unrestrained_ becomes _Licentiousness_."

"Well," said Mr Kingston, laughing with the rest at this curious remark, "as you have now arrived at your climax, with your leave we will go to bed."

"Have I convinced you?" demanded the planter, taking the tumbler from his lips.

"At least you have silenced us. Now, if you please, we will put on our coats and retire to our apartments."

"Yes--do," replied the other, who was not very steady "do--or you may check the perspiration. Boy Jack, where are the lights? Good night, gentlemen."

The negro led the way to a large room with two beds in it, for Newton and the master of the brig. Having first pointed out to them that there was a jug of sangoree, "suppose gentlemen thirsty," he wished them good night, and left the room.

"Well, Newton," said Mr Berecroft as soon as they were alone, "what do you think of the planter?"

"I think that, considering his constant advice to be temperate, he swallowed a very large quant.i.ty of arrack punch."

"He did indeed; but what think you of his arguments?"

"I hardly can say, except that none of them were sufficiently convincing to induce me to be a slave proprietor. We may perhaps, as he a.s.serts, have contented ourselves with the shadow instead of the substance; but even the shadow of liberty is to be venerated by an Englishman."

"I agree with you, my boy. His discourse did however bring one idea into my head; which is, that there is a remarkable connection between religion and slavery. It was in a state of bondage that the Jews were prepared to receive the promised land, and whenever they fell off from the true wors.h.i.+p they were punished by captivity. It was through the means of slavery that the light of the true faith was first brought to our island, where it has burnt with a purer flame than elsewhere; for, if you recollect, the beauty of some English children exposed for sale at Rome, a.s.sisted by a Latin pun, caused the introduction of Christianity into Great Britain; and who knows but that this traffic, so offensive to humanity, has been permitted by an All-wise Power with the intent that some day it shall be the means of introducing Christianity into the vast regions of African idolatry?"

"True," observed Newton, "and the time may not be far distant."

"That it is impossible to calculate upon. _He_ worketh by his own means, which are inscrutable. It was not the cause of virtue, but a desire that vice might be less trammelled, which introduced the reformation in England. The more we attempt to interfere with the arrangements of the Almighty, the more we shall make evident our own folly and blindness, and his unsearchable and immutable wisdom,--Good night, my boy."

Newton Forster--by Captain Marryat

VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

_Lucy_.

Are all these wretches slaves?

_Stanley_.

All sold, they and their posterity, all slaves.

_Lucy_.

O! miserable fortune!

_Bland_.

Most of them know no better, but were Born so, and only change their masters.

OROONOKO.

The party were up at an early hour on the ensuing morning, that they might enjoy the delightful freshness of the air, which so soon evaporates before the scorching rays of the tropical sun. They were joined at breakfast by the doctor who attended the estate, and who had called in to announce the birth of a little negro boy in the early part of the night.

"Who did you say, doctor?" answered the planter, "Mattee Sally? Why, I thought Jane Ascension was in advance of her."

"They were running it _neck and neck_, sir," replied the surgeon.

"How is she--quite hearty?"

"Quite, sir; but very anxious about the child's name, and requests to speak with you as soon as you have breakfasted."

"We will go to her. You have no idea," observed the planter to Mr Berecroft and Newton, "what importance these people attach to the naming of their children. Nothing but a fine long name will satisfy them. I really believe, that if I refused her, or called the boy Tom, she would eat dirt. I believe we have all done; Boy Jack, bring the sangoree.

Doctor, I dare say that your clay wants moistening, so take the first pull."

This important commencement and finale to the repast having been duly administered, they proceeded to the range of buildings before mentioned, in one of which they found the lady _in the straw_, sitting up, and showing her white teeth at her master's approach, as if nothing very particular had occurred.

"Well, Mattee, how are you?" said the planter. "Where's the piccaninny?"

"Ab um here, sar--keep im warm," replied the woman, pointing to a roll of blanket, in which the little creature was enveloped.

"Let us see him, Mattee."

"No, sar, too cold yet--bye bye, ma.s.sa, see um; make very fine sleep now.--Suppose white piccaninny, suppose black piccaninny--all same,-- like plenty sleep. Um know very well, hab plenty work to do bye and bye--sleep all dey can, when lilly."

"But you'll smother him," observed Newton.

"Smoder him?--what dat--eh?--I know now ma.s.sa mean, stop um breath.--No: suppose him no smoder before, no smoder now, sar. Ma.s.sa," continued the woman, turning to the planter, "no ab name for piccaninny?"

"Well, Mattee, we must find one; these gentlemen will give him a name.

Come, captain, what name do you propose?"

"Suppose we christen him _Snub_," replied Berecroft, winking at the rest.

"Sn.o.b! What sort a name you call dat, sar?" replied the woman, tossing up her head. "Sn.o.b! no, sar, you 'front me very much. Sn.o.b not proper name."

"Well, then Mr Forster," said the planter, "try if _you_ can be more fortunate."

"What do you think of Chrononhotonthologus?" said Newton to the woman.

"Eh! what dat?--say dat again, sar," replied the woman.

"Chrononhotonthologus."

"Eh! dat real fine name for piccaninny," cried the woman, with delight in her countenance. "Many tanky, sar. Chroton-polyga.r.s.e."

"No, no," replied Newton, laughing; "Chrononho-tonthologus."

"Es, hab now--Hoten-tolygla.s.s."

"No, that's only part. Chronon-hoton-thologus."

"I see--very fine name--Proton-choton-polly-gla.s.s."

"Yes, that's nearer to it," replied Newton.