Free Cambridge by Caryl Phillips Page A

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