Foreigners (4 page)

Sadly, from the young boy's vantage point, the situation
grew steadily worse until finally he could tolerate no more
of this peevish woman. With a few pounds safely tucked
away in his pocket, and confident of his new-found status
as a free man, the negro exchanged his master's household
for that of a Mr Farran of Cheapside, an apothecary of
modest means, who employed Francis as his assistant. For
two years Francis lived with Mr Farran, but he soon understood
that he did not enjoy his duties as an apothecary's
assistant, finding the work both menial and taxing. During
this period Francis did not completely cut himself adrift
from his former master, and the young man still visited
Johnson, who continued to treat him with kindness and
warmth. His former master often suggested that the negro
join him for dinner, and the two formed an astonishing
spectacle as the doctor slipped a heavy arm around the
boy and lumbered his way to a tavern, clutching, in his
free hand, a vast oak stick that was six feet in length and
of such girth that even the massive hand of Johnson could
not completely circle it. Eventually, when Johnson saw that
Francis' unhappiness appeared to be incessant, he suggested
to the boy that he relinquish his duties as an apothecary's
assistant and return to live with him at his new lodgings
in Gough Square, for he worried about Francis' frail nature
and his susceptibility to illness. However, soon after his
return young Francis realised that the miserable Miss
Williams' tyrannical hold over domestic matters had not
abated and so, determined to make his own way in the
world, the sooty youngster resolved to run away to sea.

On 7 June, 1758, sixteen-year-old Francis Barber enlisted
in the Royal Navy and was registered in the muster books
as 'L. M.' – which identified him as a 'landsman' or a
member of a ship's crew who was unfamiliar with the ways
of the sea. The young negro boarded
The Golden Fleece
,
which was the tender ship for HMS
Princess Royal
, and a
few days later, on 10 June, the black boy was transferred
to HMS
Princess Royal
which lay at anchor at Sheerness.
When Johnson learned that young Francis had once again
abandoned his household, but this time run off to sea, he
was beside himself with anxiety for he was sure that the
boy must have been used wrongly in some vile manner.
Initially he feared that his negro may have been kidnapped
and pressed on board, or – worse still – disposed of at
auction in some coffee house or tavern and become the
metal-collared, human property of some conscienceless
brute and dispatched back to the West Indies. It was equally
possible that young Francis might have become an apprentice
to some cockney thief, and Johnson understood that
Spitalfields and Whitechapel markets were places where
one might buy a poor young child to train as a pickpocket,
or beggar, or prostitute, and so he spent many an hour
there questioning strangers about his Francis. His enquiries
led him to conclude that the sea was undoubtedly the new
'home' of young Francis, and although he now understood
that his servant had almost certainly volunteered, he worried
constantly about the fate of his boy. It caused him some
irritation that Miss Williams seemed to care little that
Francis appeared to have exchanged the relative comforts
of Gough Square for a life of adventuring, and Johnson's
agitation with regard to his servant's new choice of 'career'
was further fuelled by the fact that the literary man
possessed a particular loathing towards seafaring, being
sure that long confinement in a ship served only to narrow
the mind as opposed to opening up possibilities of seeing
the world anew. He was often quoted as having declared
that, 'No man will be a sailor who has contrivance enough
to get himself into a jail; for being in a ship is being in
a jail, with the chance of being drowned.'

For sixteen long months, Johnson suffered daily anxiety
about the moral and spiritual well-being of Francis, who
he knew was not a hardy youngster. Information reached
him that the boy had transferred to HMS
Stag
and, unable
to endure any further torment, Johnson decided to contact
a Dr Hay at the Admiralty and request that an order for
the boy's discharge be issued. Months passed by without
the order being acted upon, for apparently HMS
Stag
was
spending a great deal of time at sea, albeit in English
waters, but finally, on 8 August, 1760, Francis Barber received
the unwelcome news that he had been discharged. Unhappy
to be so quickly deprived of his new and independent life,
Francis loitered about the ship for two whole months before
regretfully disembarking on 22 October at Sheerness.

On returning to London, the eighteen-year-old young
man discovered that his master had taken slightly more
spacious lodgings at 1 Inner Temple Lane, where he had
been joined by a strange widow named Mrs Desmoulins,
who appeared to be a person of little merriment, and a
Dr Levett, a shabby and silent physician to the lower orders.
Francis reluctantly reassumed his previous role, busying
himself answering the door, running trifling errands,
attending at table whenever company happened to call, and
fetching an occasional dinner from a local tavern. In addition,
Francis was entrusted with the power of purchasing
provisions. The greatest joy for the young man was his
discovery that Miss Williams had remained behind at
Gough Square, where she now occupied herself running a
small boarding school. Her blessed absence afforded Francis
considerable time to enjoy leisure about the house without
being hounded by this wretched woman. However,
concerned that the boy's general level of education remained
in dire need of improvement, Johnson insisted that Francis
keep pace with his studies, and to this end he eventually
dispatched his Francis to a modest grammar school at
Bishop's Stortford in Hertfordshire that was willing to take
him in and attempt to enhance his literacy and speech,
and familiarise him with Latin and Greek. Francis was
placed in the charge of the late headmaster's widow, who
rose to the challenge of this experiment, but the reports
that his master received of Francis' 'progress' were, at least
initially, discouraging. Johnson soon found himself in the
embarrassing position of being the recipient of written
complaints about his servant's ineptitude, but he continued
to send money and in the end he expended nearly £300.
When the young Francis returned to London, Johnson
was
gratified that his servant could read and write English with
improved ease, although not with great fluency, and in
addition the negro had indeed been able to add Latin and
Greek to his learning. While it pleased Johnson to now
have the company of the negro to relax with him by the
fire in the evenings, it frustrated him that the young man
chose not to ask any questions or put his new education
to the service of spirited conversation. But it was enough
for Johnson, who described himself as 'a hardened and
shameless tea drinker', that he had
somebody
to sit with him
late into the night as he pursued his vice.

It was during this period that sooty Francis began to
fraternise with others of his own race who were living at
various stations of life in London, and his master welcomed
Francis' friends into his house whether he was in residence
or not. Far from being intoxicated with liberty, many of
these blacks were gainfully employed, and when keeping
company with Francis, they were simply enjoying a temporary
escape from their menial duties, which included waiting
upon ladies of quality, carrying their trains, combing their
lapdogs, or producing smelling salts when required. Some,
however, found difficulty in obtaining employment and,
prohibited by law from learning a trade, the negroes were
often confined to living in squalid hovels with whores,
beggars, and criminals. Whether employed or not, Barber's
negro friends felt at home in Dr Johnson's house and they
were able to sit together in the parlour and enjoy a few
moments of merriment. Such behaviour was not to the
liking of many in Johnson's circle, but none would dare
to question the literary man's judgement. Such behaviour
was also not to the liking of the irritable Miss Williams,
who had once again joined the household, together with
a Scotch maid who carried coals, washed dishes, and
attempted to clean. The increasingly gloomy Dr Levett
contrived to carry on an open conflict with Miss Williams
and, in both action and word, he chose not to obscure his
ill-feelings towards her. For Francis, this warring household
was not a happy abode and he daily wondered if he should
leave and perhaps set up home with some of his own
complexion, for his friends constantly urged him to escape
the tyranny of the blind woman. However, Francis' loyalties
to his master ran deep, and having abandoned him
twice, and being aware of the anguish that the good man
suffered as a result of his running away to sea, he had
resolved never again to abscond.

On my second morning, I woke early to find the Lichfield
sun streaming through my window, but this peaceful and
pleasant start to the day quickly soured as a tempest of
raised voices began to emanate from a nearby chamber. I
immediately recognised the voice of the innkeeper, and
that of his wife, and I was not surprised to hear them
squabbling for I had already noted a tension between the
pair which seemed to extend beyond any individual act or
incident. Clearly this couple failed to understand the
distinct roles that the sexes were intended to occupy, roles
which complement the different natures and capacities of
men and women. I suspected the wife of shrewishness,
and the innkeeper of being under the tyrannical rule of
a petticoat government, and this unseemly cacophony served
only to confirm my suspicions. Surely the foolish man
understood that in law husband and wife are one person,
that person being the husband, and unless a man rules
these trifling creatures with benevolent determination then
things will fall out of their natural order. It is difficult to
respect a man who cannot control his wife's cantankerous
nature for it is clear that such a man will have difficulty
maintaining order in all things in his life. I lay still for
some moments and attempted to block out these unfortunate
sounds, but realising that there was little prob ability
of achieving peace I rose from the disagreeable bed and
began to prepare for the day that lay ahead. Breakfast was
a quiet affair, although the shrew did cause me to become
excessively irritable by attempting to stimulate meaningless
conversation, however the woman soon realised that
her efforts to engage me were in vain and she finally fell
silent before eventually withdrawing altogether.

The journey out to Burntwood followed the same pattern
as the previous day, and on this occasion the sun shone
even more brightly in the blue sky. My host personally
escorted me to the carriage and assured me that today I
would certainly have the pleasure of meeting with the wife
of the late Mr Barber and so my mind was lively with
anticipation. The driver, who was the same ancient man
as before, remained somewhat puzzled by the nature of
my quest, but he knew better than to question my intent.
We departed in the direction of the house of Mrs Elizabeth
Barber, and once again I observed the strange low-lying
fields and peculiar marshes of this completely foreign part
of England. There was little hereabouts to remind me of
the rolling hills and valleys of my native Kent, and as my
excursion progressed I discovered myself staring at a curiously
low horizon that was presided over by the odd ugly
tree. If nothing else, this venture into the Midlands was
providing me with an improved understanding of the many
varieties of landscape to be found in my England.

It was shortly after nine o'clock in the morning when
we arrived at the modest abode of Mrs Barber, and I slowly
alighted and ordered the driver to wait until I was ready
to return. I half-expected the impudent elder of Lichfield
to ask just how long he would be detained, such was the
look of petulance that decorated his visage, but he wisely
said nothing and so I had no opportunity to remind him
of his inferior station in life. The ramshackle cottage and
overgrown garden appeared just as they had on the previous
day, but I was set now upon my course and determined
not to be distracted by considerations of architecture or
flora. Before I could announce myself the door opened
and the same child presented herself, but once again she
chose not to speak. I scrutinised her tawny visage, but
before I could formulate a question the mother appeared
behind the child.

'I have been expecting you, sir,' was how the English
woman began her address. I noticed a certain high-pitched
common tone to her voice which confirmed her lowly
origins. 'Won't you please come in?' I smiled in her direction,
and then stepped around the child who presented
herself as an obstacle that I was obliged to negotiate in
order that I might gain entrance into the gloomy residence.

It appeared that the kitchen served a double function
as both a place to cook and eat in, and as a chamber to
receive guests. I sat carefully at the table and was soon
joined by the mite who had a disconcerting habit of simply
staring. A coal-black kettle was warming over the fire, and
while Mrs Barber prepared tea, I looked all about myself
and began to understand the limited means of the shabby
woman. Empty crooked shelves decorated the walls, and
then I saw a mouse flit nimbly across the floor, but the
woman continued to prepare the tea as if nothing untoward
had taken place, and it occurred to me that perhaps
she was familiar with this creature and his extended family.
I turned my attention to the peeling plaster, and to the
torn and filthy drapes in the window, before speculating
that if she had brought me, a gentleman, to
this
room, then
what of the other rooms in the cottage? How had it come
to pass that the widow of Francis Barber, a man so well
loved and handsomely provided for by Dr Johnson, could
have fallen so low?