Samuel Johnson,
who informed the dusky stranger that he imagined this
Jamaica to be 'a place of great wealth and dreadful wickedness,
a den of tyrants and a dungeon of slaves', but the
poor boy could make no reply for his mind was now almost
totally cleansed of memories of his birthplace.
Johnson took immediately to the young black child, who
was now styled Francis Barber, but like his friend Dr
Bathurst, he too had no desire to impress his peers by
dressing the negro as a satin-clad page or forcing the child
to wear livery of any sort. He was aware that ostentatiously
attired blacks were now commonplace in London
society, appearing in law courts, answering doors, marrying
servants, running errands, sitting for portraits. In literature
they were making minor appearances in the novels,
plays, and the poetry of the age, but to Johnson's eyes the
negro, generally through no fault of his own, often lacked
a certain civility. Johnson set about the task of saving the
young heathen's soul, teaching him to pray and providing
him with some basic religious instruction, but the literary
man soon discovered that the boy's spirit appeared to be
resistant to being given information as to how he should
conduct himself. The boy also displayed a lack of enthusiasm
in applying himself to even the most basic of household
chores, and this was a cause of some surprise to his
master, although in most circumstances the general untidiness
of his living quarters never seemed to trouble Johnson
greatly. After all, Johnson was a man preoccupied with
literary matters and he had little time to waste on domestic
issues, but he did have some understanding of the possible
source of Francis' reluctance to follow orders. Dr Bathurst's
father, the planter and former colonel in the Jamaican
militia, had recently suffered great financial losses which
threw all of his affairs into disarray, and then he had
suddenly taken ill and died. However, his will contained
a clause which granted young Francis Barber his freedom
and the bountiful sum of twelve pounds, which greatly
pleased Johnson who was firmly wedded to the belief that
no man should by nature be the property of another.
Clearly this unexpected benevolence had fed Francis' sense
of himself as being somewhat independent and beyond
any jurisdiction, but Johnson's personality was such that
he found it relatively easy to overlook the boy's rebellious
behaviour.
It was during this period that Miss Williams, the middle-aged
daughter of a Welsh physician with whom the doctor
had become friendly, established herself as a permanent
occupant of the house, and she made it her business to
reign over the domestic arrangements with a fist of iron.
Despite her blindness, she found little difficulty ranging
up and down the dangerous stairs, from the kitchen in the
basement to her own room beneath Johnson's study, which
was located in the garret near the very apex of the house.
Miss Williams was a strict disciplinarian who seldom ate
more than plain bread with butter, but she drank copious
quantities of tea, and she saw little reason why others
should indulge themselves beyond her own rigorous diet.
Miss Williams was prepared to tolerate the doctor's peculiar,
and sometimes offensive, manners, but she had little
patience with any others who sought to resist her rule.
Upon her arrival, Francis immediately noticed that Miss
Williams exercised considerable influence over his master,
for the doctor became a little more careful in his dress,
utilising metal buttons instead of twisted hair on his
familiar brown suit, and silver buckles occasionally decorated
his shoes. However, the influence was limited, for
Johnson's wig remained large and greyish, his shirt plain
off-white, his stockings black worsted, and he continued
to eschew ruffles on his coat so that his white shirtsleeves
were generally visible. In short, his master's rugged exterior
was still likely to alarm the unsuspecting, and his physical
convulsions and general
No Stranger to Danger (Evernight)