The Memorial Edition
OF THE
WORKS
OF
CAPTAIN
SIR RICHARD F. BURTON,
_K.C.M.G., F.R.G.S., &c., &c., &c._
* * * * *
VOLUME III.
This Memorial Edition
OF
THE WORKS OF
CAPTAIN SIR RICHARD F. BURTON
IS
DEDICATED
TO
ALL ENGLISH-SPEAKING PEOPLES,
Who respect and honour the name of RICHARD BURTON, the Soldier,
Linguist, Scholar, Explorer and Discoverer, Poet, Author, and Benefactor
to Science; in recognition of the labours of a long and honourable life,
devoted to the Service of his Country, and to the advancement of its
Knowledge and of its Literature.
A MISSION
TO
GELELE, KING OF DAHOME.
* * * * *
_IN TWO VOLUMES._
VOLUME I.
[Illustration: THE AMAZON.]
A MISSION
TO
GELELE, KING OF DAHOME
WITH NOTICES OF
THE SO-CALLED “AMAZONS,” THE GRAND CUSTOMS,
THE YEARLY CUSTOMS, THE HUMAN SACRIFICES,
THE PRESENT STATE OF THE SLAVE TRADE,
AND
THE NEGRO’S PLACE IN NATURE.
BY
CAPTAIN SIR RICHARD F. BURTON,
K.C.M.G., F.R.G.S., &c., &c., &c.
(LATE COMMISSIONER TO DAHOME,)
AUTHOR OF “A PILGRIMAGE TO AL-MADINAH AND MECCAH.”
EDITED BY HIS WIFE,
ISABEL BURTON.
“If a man be ambitious to improve in knowledge and wisdom, he should
travel into foreign countries.”—PHILOSTRATUS IN APOLL.
“Every kingdom, every province, should have its own
monographer.”—GILBERT WHITE.
Memorial Edition.
* * * * *
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOLUME I.
LONDON:
TYLSTON AND EDWARDS.
MDCCCXCIII.
_(All rights reserved.)_
Printed for the Publishers at
THE MECCAN PRESS,
3, Soho Square, London, W.
CONTENTS
OF
THE FIRST VOLUME.
* * * * *
PAGE.
Preface to the Memorial Edition xi
Preface to the First (1864) Edition xiii
CHAPTER.
I.—I Fall in Love with Fernando Po 1
II.—I do not become “Fast Friends” with Lagos 14
III.—We enter Whydah in State 17
IV.—A Walk round Whydah 36
V.—From Whydah to Alladá, the Half-way House 76
VI.—From Allada to Agrime 110
VII.—Small Reception at Agrime, and Arrival at Kana, the 121
King’s Country Quarters
VIII.—The Procession 133
IX.—The Reception 154
X.—The March to Agbome 184
XI.—The King enters his Capital 202
XII.—The Presents are delivered 213
XIII.—Of the Grand Customs and the Annual Customs generally 228
XIV.—The King’s “So-sin Custom”
Section A. 232
Section B. 248
PREFACE
TO
The Memorial Edition.
* * * * *
Thirty years ago, no Europeans were at Dahome. None ventured into the
interior to the Court of the Savage known as King Gelele.[1] His time
was spent in wars, his best troops being his many thousand Amazons,
women crueller and fiercer than men. The prisoners were tortured, and
their throats were cut. Whenever he required to send a telegram to his
father, a man was slaughtered, and his soul was despatched with it.
Women were cut open alive, in a state of pregnancy, that the King might
see what it was like. Animals were tied in every agonizing position to
die; impaling and cannibalism were common, and it was impossible to go
out of one’s hut without seeing something appalling.
Thirty years ago, Richard Burton was chosen to go to Dahome, and to live
with this savage, to endeavour to induce him to abandon these cruelties.
He went as Her Majesty’s Commissioner, bearing presents from the Queen.
The King gave ample reasons for not being able to alter the customs of
the country. He sent return presents to Her Majesty, and gave three to
Richard Burton for his “favourite squaw.” The King treated Richard very
well, but any freak or sudden superstition might have caused him to be
put to a cruel death. Gelele said that his prisoners of war represented
his income, that his own people would kill him if he stopped “the
customs,” that if he received £50,000 a year he would attempt it, and
that the only presents he wanted were a carriage and horses, and a white
woman.
When Richard returned, he told me that he had seen enough dreadful
sights to turn his brain. Earl Russell wrote me: “Tell Captain Burton
that he has performed his mission to my utmost and entire satisfaction.”
The following is his modest account of that mission, and information
concerning the country, which I think and trust may prove infinitely
useful to the French Army now occupying Dahome.
And I beg of the French Army, when they have righted the wrongs of the
human race, to turn a kind thought to those of the poor tortured
animals.
As in the Memorial Edition of the “Pilgrimage to Al-Madinah and Meccah,”
Mr. Leonard C. Smithers has corrected the proofs from Sir Richard’s own
copy of the first edition, and has passed the sheets through the press.
ISABEL BURTON.
_July 12th, 1893._
[Footnote 1: Pronounce “Gél-e-le.” For the pronunciation of “Dahome,”
see p. 106, _note_, post.]
PREFACE
TO THE
FIRST (1864) EDITION.
* * * * *
In the Preface affixed by an anonymous hand to “The History of Dahomy,”
published nearly three-fourths of a century ago,[2] we are told that the
“short interval from Whydah beach to Abomey is perhaps the most beaten
track, by Europeans, of any in Africa.” The Author thereupon proceeds to
show a difference of 104 miles between the maximum and minimum estimates
of the distance, which is nearly doubled by the most correct.
In this Year of Grace, 1864, there is at least an equal amount of
uncertainty concerning the “Land of the Amazons”; but it shows rather in
things metaphysical than physical. So well informed a journal as the
“Saturday Review” (July 4th, 1863), gravely informs its readers that
“The King of Dahome has lately been indulging in a sacrifice of 2000
human beings, simply in deference to a national prejudice (!), and to
keep up the good old customs of the country” (!!).
This complete miscomprehension of the subject, coming from such a
quarter, induces me to attempt without fear so well worn a theme, and to
bring up to the present time a subject worthily handled by Snelgrave,[3]
Smith,[4] Norris,[5] Dalzel, M‘Leod,[6] and Forbes.[7] And if, in
depicting the manners and ceremonies of this once celebrated military
Empire, and in recounting this black Epopæia, there has been a something
of excessive detail, and there shall appear much that is trifling and
superfluous, the kindly reader will perhaps find for it a reason.
My principal object, it may be frankly owned, has been to show, in its
true lights, the African kingdom best known by name to Europe. But in
detailing its mixture of horrors and meanness, in this pitiless picture
of its mingled puerility and brutality, of ferocity and politeness, I
trust that none can rightfully charge me with exaggeration, and I can
acquit myself of all malice. “_A nadie si elogia con mentira, ni se
critica sin verdad_.”
So far back as 1861 I had volunteered, as the Blue Book shows, to visit
Agbome. The measure not being then deemed advisable, I awaited till May-
June, 1863, when an opportunity presented itself. In the meantime
(December, 1862-January, 1863), Commodore Wilmot, R.N., Senior Officer
of the Bights Division, accompanied by Captain Luce, R.N., and by Dr.
Haran, of H.M.S. _Brisk_, devanced me, and that officer proved the
feasibility of a visit to Dahome. Returning to Fernando Po, I soon
received the gratifying intelligence that her Majesty’s Government had
been pleased to choose me as the bearer of a friendly message to King
Gelele. The official letters are, by permission, given _in extenso_
below.
FOREIGN OFFICE, August 20th, 1863.
SIR,
You were informed by my Despatch of the 23rd of June last, that you
had been selected by Her Majesty’s Government to proceed on a Mission to
the King of Dahomey, to confirm the friendly sentiments expressed by
Commodore Wilmot to the King on the occasion of the visit which he made
to that chief in the months of December and January last.
I have accordingly to desire that as soon after the receipt of this
Despatch as it may be feasible to do so, you will proceed to Dahomey,
taking care first, by previous communication with the King, to ascertain
that a proper reception will be accorded to you.
You will, on your arrival, inform the King that the many important
duties which devolve on Commodore Wilmot as the Officer in command of
Her Majesty’s Naval Forces on the African Coast, have prevented him
returning in person to confirm the good understanding which it is hoped
has been established between the King and Her Majesty’s Government by
the Commodore’s late visit. You will state that the Commodore faithfully
reported all that passed between him and the King, and that he correctly
made known the wishes and feelings of Her Majesty’s Government on the
several topics on which he addressed the King.
With regard to the question of the export of slaves from his
territories, you will not fail to impress upon the King the importance
which her Majesty’s Government attach to the cessation of this traffic.
Her Majesty’s Government admit the difficulties which the King may find
in putting a stop to a trade that has so long existed in his country,
and from which his ancestors have derived so much profit, but his income
from this source must be very small compared with that of former kings,
and it will be to his interest to find out some other source of revenue,
before that which he now derives from the sale of his fellow-men to the
slave dealers is entirely put a stop to. You will remind the King that
he himself suggested to Commodore Wilmot that if we wished to put a stop
to the slave trade, we should prevent white men from coming to buy them,
and you will state that Her Majesty’s Government, having determined that
the traffic shall cease, will take steps to prevent effectually the
export of slaves from his territories. You will add, in illustration of
what you state, that Her Majesty’s Government have concluded a treaty
with the United States Government, which will prevent, for the future,
any American vessels from coming to ship slaves.
With regard to human sacrifices, I rejoice to find from Commodore
Wilmot’s Report, that the number of victims at the King’s customs has
been exaggerated.
It is to be feared, however, that much difficulty will be experienced in
prevailing upon the King to put a stop entirely to this barbarous
practice, which prevails more or less openly, along the greater part of
the Western Coast of Africa. But we must seek by whatever influence we
may possess, or be able to attain, to mitigate, if we cannot at once
prevent, the horrors of these customs, and I rely upon your using your
best efforts for this purpose.
The King in his interview with Commodore Wilmot expressed a wish that
English merchants should come and settle and make trade at Whydah, and
he offered to help to repair the old English fort there, and to permit
it to be garrisoned by English troops.
You will thank the King for this mark of his confidence, and you will at
the same time state, that as he has promised to protect any British
merchants who may settle at Whydah, Her Majesty’s Government put entire
faith in his promises, and see no necessity for sending English soldiers
to garrison the fort there. You will, however, add, that there is one
thing needful in order that the King’s wishes in regard to the
settlement of English merchants at Whydah should be carried out, and
that is, that there should be a sufficiency of lawful trade to induce
them to do so.
English merchants cannot take slaves in return for their goods, they
must have palm oil, ivory, cotton, and such other articles as the
country is capable of producing. The King will see, therefore, that it
must depend very much on his own exertions, and those of his subjects,
whether it will be worth while for British merchants to settle at
Whydah. Should however the King think fit to enter into an engagement
with Her Majesty’s Government to encourage lawful trade, and to promote,
as far as lies in his power, the development of the resources of his
country, Her Majesty’s Government would be willing to appoint an agent
at Whydah to be an organ of communication with the King and to assist in
carrying out his views.
As an earnest of their friendly feelings, Her Majesty’s Government have
caused the presents, of which a list is inclosed, to be prepared and
forwarded to you for presentation to the King. You will see that, as far
as possible, the King’s wishes as expressed to Commodore Wilmot, have
been carried out in regard to the articles selected for presents, with
the exception of the carriage and horses, and with respect to these you
will explain to the King, that in the first place it would be a
difficult matter to get English horses out to the Coast, and even
supposing they arrived safely at their destination, it would be very
doubtful, from the nature of the country and climate, whether they would
long survive their arrival.
If, however, our future relations with the King should be of a nature to
warrant such a proceeding, Her Majesty’s Government would not hesitate
to endeavour to comply with his wishes, by sending him an English
carriage and horses.
I have only in conclusion to add, that it has been suggested to Her
Majesty’s Government that among the King’s captives there may still be
some of the coloured Christian prisoners taken at Ishagga, and if on
inquiry you should be able to ascertain that this is the case, you will
state to the King that it would be taken by Her Majesty’s Government as
an earnest of his friendly feeling, and as shewing a desire to perform
his promises to them, if he would restore these prisoners to liberty.
I am, Sir,
Your most obedient humble Servant,
(Signed) RUSSELL.
EXTRACT.
FOREIGN OFFICE, August 20th, 1863.
SIR,
With reference to my other Despatch of this day’s date containing
instructions for your guidance on proceeding to Dahomey, I have to state
that you should, if possible, stipulate with the King before proceeding
to Abomey, that there should be no human sacrifices during the time of
your stay in his capital, and you will, under any circumstances, decline
to sanction these sacrifices by your presence, if they should
unfortunately take place whilst you are in the country.
The last packet from the West Coast brought reports of the King of
Dahomey having died from the effects of a wound received in one of his
slave-hunting expeditions. Should these reports be well founded, it will
be advisable that you should ascertain something of the character of his
successor before proceeding to the Dahomian capital, and I leave it to
your discretion to proceed subsequently to Abomey, and to deliver the
presents to the new King or not, as you may after due consideration deem
advisable.
I have requested the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty to give
directions that you may be conveyed to and from Whydah in a ship of war,
and I have also informed their lordships that it would be advisable that
a medical officer should accompany you, if one can be spared from her
Majesty’s ships for this purpose.
I am, Sir,
Your most obedient humble Servant,
(Signed) RUSSELL.
* * * * *
FOREIGN OFFICE, July 23, 1863.
SIR,
With reference to my Despatch of the 23rd ultimo, instructing you to
hold yourself in readiness to proceed on a mission to the King of
Dahomey, I have now to acquaint you that the presents with which you
will be entrusted for the King, and the instructions for your guidance,
will be forwarded to you by the packet which leaves Liverpool with the
African mails on the 23rd of August, and you will therefore make your
arrangements accordingly.
I am, Sir,
Your most obedient humble Servant,
(Signed) RUSSELL.
LIST OF PRESENTS forwarded to CAPTAIN BURTON by packet of the 24th
August, 1863, for presentation to the KING OF DAHOMEY.
One forty feet circular crimson silk Damask Tent with Pole complete
(contained in two boxes).
One richly embossed silver Pipe with amber mouth-piece, in morocco case.
Two richly embossed silver Belts with Lion and Crane in raised relief,
in morocco cases. Two silver and partly gilt Waiters, in oak case. One
Coat of Mail and Gauntlets. (Contained in one deal case, addressed to
Captain Burton, H.B.M.’s Consul for the Bight of Biafra, West Coast of
Africa.)
September, however, was hardly the month to be preferred for crossing
the Great Agrime Swamp, and my health required a change of air before
submitting to the _peine forte et dure_ of a visit to a West African
King. A few weeks upon the South Coast, in the delicious “Caçimbo,[8]”
soon brought me up to working mark, and the following pages will tell
the rest.
In Chapter XIX., I have taken the liberty of personally addressing my
friend Dr. Hunt, author of “The Negro’s Place in Nature.” He has called
for the results of my humble experience—I had written the remarks before
seeing his able and graphic paper—and I have done my best to aid him in
dispersing the mists with which “mere rhetoric of a political and
religious nature” has invested the subject.
Some excuse may be expected for the length of the Appendix: the object
has been to supply the Public with as complete a picture of present
Dahome as my materials, and my capability of using them, have permitted.
The items are as follows:—
I. Itinerary, from Whydah to Agbome (corrected by Captain George, R.N.,
Royal Geographical Society of London.)
II. List of expenses at Agbome. Mr. Bernasko’s account current with
Captain Burton, Her Majesty’s Commissioner, Dahomey, from December 8th,
1863, to February 26th, 1864.
III. Reprints of previous modern notices.
A. Extract of a letter from the Reverend Peter W. Bernasko, Native
Assistant Missionary, dated Whydah, November 29th, 1860, and describing
the Grand Customs. (“Wesleyan Missionary Notices,” February 25th, 1861).
B. Despatches from Commodore Wilmot respecting his visit to the King of
Dahomey in December, 1862, and January, 1863, and describing the
Platform Sacrifice.
C. Dahomy, its People and Customs, by M. Jules Gerard, describing the
Oyo Custom of Kana.
IV. A Catalogue of the Dahoman Kings, with the dates of their various
exploits, their “strong names,” and the events of their reigns. It is
merely produced as _documens pour servir_: I have not only analysed the
several histories, but have gathered from the natives traditions and
explanations of the royal titles. Moreover, I wish these volumes to be a
picture rather of the present than of the past.
The Pages now offered to the Public are the result of a three months’
personal study of Dahome, my work extending over the day, and often half
through the night. I may venture to assert that, by comparing its
results with the authors before cited, the labour expended upon this
monogram will become apparent.
It only remains for me to apologize for the involuntary errors which
will doubtless be found in the following volumes, and to hope that I
may, at some future time, find an opportunity of correcting them.
BUENA VISTA, FERNANDO PO,
_April_ 20, 1864.
[Footnote 2: “The History of Dahomy, an Inland Kingdom of Africa;
compiled from authentic Memoirs; with an Introduction and Notes. By
Archibald Dalzel, Esq. (Governor at Whydah, then) Governor at Cape Coast
Castle (and lastly Governor-in-Chief of the Company’s Service.)” London,
1793. 4to. Printed for the Author by T. Spilsbury and Son, Snowhill. In
the following pages, whenever “The History” is alluded to, Dalzel’s is
to be understood.]
[Footnote 3: Captain William Snelgrave arrived off Whydah, in the
Katherine galley, in the latter end of March, 1726, three weeks after
its capture by Dahome. His book, “A Full Account of some Parts of Guinea
and the Slave-trade,” appeared in 1734. 8vo.]
[Footnote 4: William Smith, Esq., was sent out as surveyor in 1726. His
“New Voyage to Guinea” is a posthumous work, published in 1744. 8vo.]
[Footnote 5: “Memoirs of the reign of Bossa Ahadee: with an Account of a
Journey to Abomey in 1772, by Mr. Robert Norris.” London, 1789.]
[Footnote 6: “A Voyage to Africa; with some Account of the Manners and
Customs of the Dahomian People. By John M‘Leod, M.D.” London: John
Murray, 1820.]
[Footnote 7: “Dahomey and the Dahomans; being the Journals of Two
Missions to the King of Dahomey, and Residence at his Capital, in the
years 1849 and 1850. By Frederick E. Forbes, Commander R.N.,” &c. 2
Vols., 8vo. London: Longmans, 1851.]
[Footnote 8: The cloudy (but not rainy) season in Angola and on the
Congo River, lasting from May to September.]
Dedicado
Á MIS AMIGOS ESPAÑOLES EN FERNANDO PÓO, ESPECIALMENTE Á
LOS SEÑORES
BRIGADIER D. PANTALEON LOPEZ DE LA TORRE AYLLON,
(GOBERNADOR-GENERAL DE FERNANDO PÓO Y SUS DEPENDENCIAS);
D. ATILANO CALVO ITURBURU;
D. TEODOSIO NOELI Y WHITE;
D. FRANCISCO OSORIO Y D. CARLOS DE ROJAS;
EN PRUEBA DE AFECTUOSA AMISTAD.
A MISSION
TO
GELELE, KING OF DAHOME.
* * * * *
CHAPTER I.
I FALL IN LOVE WITH FERNANDO PO.
This fertile soil, which enjoys a perpetual spring, is considered a
strong prison, as the land of spectres, the seat of disease, and the
mansion of death.
_Said of Bengal by its Moslem conquerors._
_A Ilha Formosa_, the lovely island of Fernando Po, has, like most
beauties, two different, indeed two opposite, aspects.
About Christmas time she is in a state deeper than rest,—
A kind of sleepy Venus seemed Dudu.
Everything, in fact, appears enwrapped in the rapture of repose. As the
ship glides from the rolling, blustering Bights into that wonderfully
still water, men come on deck feeling they know not what; _çela porte à
l’amour_, as the typical Frenchman remarks. The oil-like swell is too
lazy to break upon the silent shore, the wind has hardly enough energy
to sigh, the tallest trees nod and bend drowsily downwards, even the
grass is, from idleness, averse to wave: the sluggish clouds bask in the
soft light of the sky, while the veiled sun seems in no hurry to run his
course. Here no one would dream, as does our modern poet, of calling
nature “sternly fair.” If such be the day, conceive the cloister-like
stillness of a night spent in the bosom of Clarence Cove. Briefly,
Fernando Po, in the dry weather, is a Castle of Indolence, a Land of the
Lotophagi, a City of the Living-Dead.
But as I saw her in November, 1863, and as she had been for the six
months preceding, the charmer was not to be recognised by _that_
portrait. A change had come over her Madonna-like face—as is sometimes
witnessed in the “human organism.” The rainy season had set in earlier
than usual; it had opened in May, and in November it was not ended. A
heavy arch of nimbus, either from the north-east or the north-west,
gathered like a frown on the forehead of the dull grey firmament.
Presently the storm came down, raving like a jealous wife. In a few
moments it burst with a flood of tears, a sheet of “solid water,” rent
and blown about by raging, roaring gusts, that seemed to hurry from
every quarter in the very ecstasy of passion. Baleful gleams of red
thready lightning flashed like the glances of fury in weeping eyes, and
deafening peals of thunder crashed overhead, not with the steady rumble
of a European tempest, but sharp, sudden, and incisive as claps of
feminine objurgation between fits of sobbing. These lively scenes were
enacted during half the day, and often throughout the night: they passed
off in lady-like sulks, a windless fog or a brown-blue veil of cloud
settling hopelessly over the face of heaven and earth, till the
unappeased elements gathered strength for a fresh outburst.
Amidst this caprice, these coquetries of the “Beautiful Island,” man
found it hard to live, but uncommonly easy to die. Presently all that
was altered, and the history of the metamorphosis deserves, I think, to
be recorded.
The shrew was tamed by an inch and a half of barometric altitude. The
dictum of the learned Dr. Waitz, the Anthropologist, no longer holds
good.[9]
When I first landed on this island (September, 1861), Sta. Isabel, _née_
Clarence, the lowland town and harbour, was the only locality inhabited
by the new Spanish colony. Pallid men were to be seen sitting or lolling
languid in their verandahs, and occasionally crawling about the grass-
grown streets, each with a cigarette hanging to his lower lip. They
persistently disappeared in the dry season, whilst their example was
followed by the coloured “liberateds” and the colonists during the
“balance” of the year. H.B.M.’s Consulate is situated unpleasantly near
a military hospital: breakfast and dinner were frequently enlivened by
the spectacle of a something covered with a blanket being carried in,
and after due time a something within a deal box being borne out on four
ghastly men’s shoulders. And strangers fled the place like a pestilence:
sailors even from the monotonous “south coast,” felt the _ennui_ of
Fernando Po to be deadly—grave-like.
At length Yellow Fever, the gift of the “Grand Bonny,” which was well-
nigh depopulated, stalked over the main in March, 1862, and in two
months he swept off 78 out of a grand total of 250 white men.[10]
The “Beautiful Island” was now going too far. Seeing that the fever did
not abate, H.E. the Governor de la Gandara determined to try the effects
of altitude. A kind of “quartelillo”—_infirmerie_ or _baraque_—was
hastily run up in twelve days, beginning from June 22nd, 1862, by M.
Tejero, Commandent of Military Engineers. The site, a kind of shelf over
the village of Basile, about 400 metres above sea-level, received the
name of Sta. Cecilia. On the day after its completion, July 6th,
nineteen _pénitentiaires_, or political prisoners, the survivors of some
thirty men that had died of yellow fever in the hulks, were transferred
to the new quarters; two were lost by attacks of the same disease
contracted on the seaboard, the rest of those condemned to _travaux
forcés_ kept their health, and were returned to their homes in November,
1862.
This old _baraque_ is now nearly always empty, being converted into a
kind of lodging-house. Its dimensions are 11·50 mètres long, by 6 broad,
and raised on piles 1·50 high; the rooms are three in number, one large,
of 6 metres by 4·25, and the other two of 4·25 mètres by 3.
Seeing the excellent result of that experiment, H.E. Sr. D. Lopez de
Ayllon, the present Governor, to whom these pages are respectfully
inscribed, determined to increase operations. Major Osorio, of the
Engineers, was directed to build a _maison caserne_, intended to
accommodate white soldiers not wanted for duty at Sta. Isabel. It was
begun March 22nd, finished September 5th, and opened November 30th,
1863. The _rez de chaussée_ lodges forty men, the second story as many
more, whilst the first stage has rooms for the Governor, his aide-de-
camp, and four officers. Besides these two lumber houses, there are
tolerable stables for horses and mules, good roads well bridged, and a
channel of mountain water, which the white soldiers, who can work in the
sun with the thinnest of caps, have derived from the upper levels. About
thirty men were sent here. Their number has varied but little. During
the five months from December, 1863, to April, 1864, though there have
been sporadic local cases of simple intermittent fever—March, 1864,
shows only one—and though dangerous diseases have been brought up from
the lowlands, not a death has occurred.
Thus, then, the first sanitarium in Western Africa owes its existence to
the Spanish Colony, that dates only from the middle of 1859. As far back
as 1848, the late Captain Wm. Allen and Dr. Thompson, of the Niger
Expedition, proposed a sanitary settlement at Victoria, on the seaboard
below the Camaroons Mountain, a site far superior to Fernando Po. Since
their time, the measure has been constantly advocated by the late Mr. M.
Laird. _Eppur non si muove_—Britannia. She allows her “sentimental
squadron” to droop and to die without opposing the least obstacle
between it and climate. A few thousands spent at Camaroons or at
Fernando Po would, calculating merely the market value of seamen’s
lives, repay themselves in as many years. Yet not a word from the Great
Mother!
When I compare St. Louis of Senegal with Sierra Leone, or Lagos with
Fernando Po, it is my conviction that a temporary something is going
wrong with the popular constitution at home. If not, whence this want of
energy, this new-born apathy? Dr. Watson assures us that disease in
England has now assumed an asthenic and adynamic type. The French said
of us in the Crimea that _Jean Boule_ had shattered his nerves with too
much tea. The Registrar-General suggests the filthy malaria of the
overcrowded hodiernal English town as the _fomes malorum_. The vulgar
opinion is, that since the days of the cholera the Englishman (physical)
has become a different being from his prototype of those fighting times
when dinner-pills were necessary. And we all know that
C’est la constipation que rend l’homme rigoureux.
Whatever the cause may be, an Englishman’s lot is at present not
enviable, and his children have a Herculean task “cut and dry” before
them.
Nothing can be more genial and healthful than the place where I am
writing these lines, the frame or plank-house built by D. Pellon, of the
Woods and Forests, now absent on private affairs in Spain. The aneroid
shows 29 instead of 30·1-30·4 inches, and the altitude does not exceed
800 feet. Yet after sunrise the thermometer (F.) often stands at 68°,
reddening the hands and cheeks of the white man. We can take exercise
mentally and bodily without that burst of perspiration which follows
every movement in the lowlands, and we can repose without the sensation
which the “Beebee” in India defined as “feeling like a boiled cabbage.”
The view from the balcony facing north is charming. On the right are the
remnants of a palm orchard; to the left, an avenue of bananas leads to a
clump of tropical forest; and on both sides tumbles adown the basaltic
rocks and stones a rivulet of pure cold mountain water—most delightful
of baths—over which the birds sing loudly through the livelong day. In
front is a narrow ledge of cleared ground bearing rose-trees two years
old and fifteen feet high, a pair of coffee shrubs, bowed with scarlet
berries, sundry cotton plants, by no means despicable, and a cacao,
showing what the island would have been but for the curse of free
labour.[11] Beyond the immediate foreground there is a slope, hollowed
in the centre, and densely covered with leek-green and yellow-green
grasses of the Holcus kind now finding favour in England, and even here
fragrant, when cut, as northern hay. The drop is sufficiently abrupt
below to fall without imperceptible gradation into the rolling plain,
thick and dark with domed and white-boled trees, which separate the
mountain from the Ethiopic main. The white houses of Sta. Isabel glisten
brightly on the marge; beyond it the milky-blue expanse of streaked
waters stretches to the bent bow of the horizon; and on the right
towers, in solitary majesty, a pyramid of Nature’s handiwork, “Mongo ma
Lobah,” the Mount of Heaven,[12] now capped with indistinct cloud, then
gemmed with snow,[13] and reflecting from its golden head the gorgeous
tropical sunshine; whilst over all of earth and sea and sky there is
that halo of atmosphere which is to landscape what the light of youth is
to human loveliness.
And as night first glooms in the East, the view borrows fresh beauties
from indistinctness. The varied tints make way for the different shades
of the same colour that mark the several distances, and hardly can the
eye distinguish in the offing land from sea. Broken lines of mist-rack
rise amongst the trees of the basal plain, following the course of some
streamlet, like a string of giant birds flushed from their roosts. The
moon sleeps sweetly upon the rolling banks of foliage, and from under
the shadowing trees issue weird fantastic figures, set off by the
emerald light above. In the growing silence the tinkle of the two
rivulets becomes an audible bass, the treble being the merry cricket and
the frog praying lustily for rain, whilst the palms whisper mysterious
things in their hoarse baritone. The stars shine bright, twinkling as if
frost were in the air; we have eliminated the thick stratum of
atmosphere that overhangs the lowlands, and behind us, in shadowy
grandeur, neither blue nor brown nor pink, but with a blending of the
three, and sometimes enwrapped in snowy woolpack so dense as to appear
solid against the deep azure, the Pico Santa Isabel, the highest crater
in the island, rises softly detached from the cirrus-flecked nocturnal
sky.
Life, as an American missionary remarked, is somewhat primitive at Buena
Vista, but it is not the less pleasant. An hour of work in my garden at
sunrise and sunset, when the scenery is equally beautiful, hard reading
during the day, and after dark a pipe and a new book of travels, this is
the “_fallentis semita vitæ_” which makes one shudder before plunging
once more into the cold and swirling waters of society—of civilization.
My “niggers” are, as Krumen should be, employed all the day long in
clearing, cutting, and planting—it is quite the counterpart of a
landowner’s existence in the Southern States. Nothing will prevent them
calling themselves my “children,” that is to say, my slaves; and indeed
no white man who has lived long in the outer tropics can prevent feeling
that he is _pro tempore_ the lord, the master, and the proprietor of the
black humanity placed under him. It is true that the fellows have no
overseer, consequently there is no whip; punishment resolves itself into
retrenching rum and tobacco; moreover, they come and go as they please.
But if a little “moral influence” were not applied to their lives, they
would be dozing or quarrelling all day in their quarters, and twanging a
native guitar half the night, much to their own discomfort and more to
their owner’s. Consequently I keep them to their work.
At certain hours the bugle-call from Santa Cecilia intimates that all
about me is not savagery. And below where the smoke rises “a-twisten
blue” from the dense plantation of palms, lies a rich study for an
ethnologist—Basile, the Bubé village. No white man has lived long enough
amongst this exceptional race of Fernandians to describe them minutely,
and, as a rule, they have been grossly and unjustly abused.[14] A few
lines will show the peculiarities which distinguish them from other
African tribes.
The Bubé—who, as may be proved by language, is an aborigine of the
mainland—has forgotten his origin, and he wisely gives himself no
trouble about it. If you ask him whence he comes, he replies “from his
mother”; whither he goes, and he answers “to Drikhatta ra Busala ’be[15]
if a bad man,” and “to Lubakko ’pwa (the sky) if he has been a good
Bubé.” He has a conception of and a name for the Creator, Rupe or Erupe,
but he does not perplex himself with questions of essence and attribute,
personality and visibility. Perhaps in this point too he shows good
sense. He is also, you may be sure, not without an evil principle,
Busala ’be, who acts as it were chief of police.
Coming down from the things of heaven to those of earth, the Fernandian
is “aristocratic,” an out-and-out conservative; no oldest Tory of the
old school can pretend to rival him. But in many points his attachment
to ancient ways results not from prejudice, but from a tradition founded
upon sound instinct. He will not live near the sea for fear of being
kidnapped, also because the over-soft air effeminates his frame. He
refuses to build higher up the mountains than 2000 to 3000 feet, as his
staff of life, the palm and the plantain, will not flourish in the raw
air and in the rugged ground. He confines himself therefore to the exact
zone in which the medical geographer of the present age would place
him—above the fatal fever level, and below the line of dysentery and
pneumonia. His farm is at a distance from his cottage, to prevent
domestic animals finding their way into it; his yam fields, which supply
the finest crops, are as pretty and as neatly kept as vineyards in
Burgundy, and he makes the best “topi” or palm toddy in Western Africa.
His habitation is a mere shed without walls: he is a Spartan in these
matters. Nothing will persuade him to wear, beyond the absolute
requirements of decency, anything warmer than a thin coat of palm oil:
near the summit of the mountain, 10,000 feet above sea-level, I have
offered him a blanket, and he has preferred the fire. His only
remarkable, somewhat “fashionable”-looking article of dress is an
extensive wicker hat covered with a monkey skin, but this is useful to
prevent tree snakes falling upon his head. He insists upon his wife
preserving the same toilette, minus the hat—oh, how wise! If she does
not come up to his beau ideal of fidelity, he cuts off, first her left
hand, then her right, lastly, her throat; a very just sequence.[16] He
is not a slave nor will he keep slaves; he holds them to be a vanity,
and justly, because he can work for himself. He is no idler; after
labouring at his farm, he will toil for days to shoot a monkey, a
“philantomba” (_alias_ “fritamba”), or a flying squirrel. Besides being
a sportsman, he has his manly games, and I should not advise every one
to tackle him with quarter-staff; his _alpenstock_ is a powerful and a
well-wielded weapon. Though so highly conservative, he is not, as some
might imagine, greatly destitute of intelligence: he pronounces our
harsh and difficult English less incorrectly that any West African
tribe, including the Sierra Leonite. Brightest of all is his moral
character: you may safely deposit rum and tobacco—that is to say, gold
and silver—in his street, and he will pay his debt as surely as the Bank
of England.[17] And what caps his worldly wisdom, is his perfect and
perpetual suspiciousness. He never will tell you his name, he never
receives you as a friend, he never trusts you, even when you bring
gifts; he will turn out armed if you enter his village at an
unseasonable hour, and if you are fond of collecting vocabularies, may
the god of speech direct you! The fact is, that the plunderings and the
kidnappings of bygone days are burned into his memory: he knows that
such things have been, and he knows not when they may again be. So he
confines himself to the society of his native hamlet, and he makes no
other intimacies, even with the fellowmen whose village smoke he sees
curling up from the neighbouring dell.[18]
* * * * * *
After two years of constant quarrelling the beautiful island and I are
now “fast friends.” It is perhaps as well to “begin with a little
aversion.[19]”
[Footnote 9: “There are many districts in Africa where strangers, and
especially Europeans, can neither live nor become acclimated, whilst the
natives enjoy good health. Such is the case in some parts of the Darfur,
the greater portion of Kordofan, _Fernando Po_, and
Zanzibar.”—Anthropology of Primitive Peoples, vol. i., excellently
translated by J. Frederick Collingwood, Esq., F.A.S. (London: Trübner &
Co., 1863.)]
[Footnote 10: On August 28, 1859, 155 white soldiers, young and picked
men, who had shipped at Cadiz, July 16, 1859, arrived at Fernando Po,
under H.E. the Governor de la Gandara, who is now fighting his country’s
battles in Santo Domingo. On July 16, 1863, after concluding their three
years’ service, forty-seven of these men returned to Spain. I have been
unable to procure statistics of their health or sickness since that
period. Of the 108 casualties, or more than two-thirds of the original
number, thirty-five men died, mostly during the first eighteen months;
the other seventy-three were sent home invalided.]
[Footnote 11: “Without slaves,” says Koeler (Notizen über Bonny), “the
fertile tropical valleys would be unproductive and deserted, as white
men cannot labour there in the open air.” The question is, whether the
world has been sufficiently cleared to enable men to dispense with
forced labour? At Fernando Po, the hire of a Kruman, who does about one-
fifth of an Englishman’s work, amounts, all things included, to thirty
shillings a week. The expression in the text is not too strong. Mr. Lee,
Professor of Agricultural Chemistry in the University of Georgia,
estimates the manual requirements of the Southern States at one million
of men for twenty years, and regards it as “providential that there
should be so much unemployed power in human muscles in Western Africa.”]
[Footnote 12: The topmost peak of the Camaroons Mountain, so called by
the natives.]
[Footnote 13: To talk of snow so near the line! The erudite Mr. Cooley
will certainly swear it is dolomite.]
[Footnote 14: Bosman (A New and Accurate Description of the Coast of
Guinea, translated into English, 1705) seems to have led the way, and
others have repeated him. “The island of Fernando Po is inhabited by a
savage and cruel sort of people, which he that deals with ought not to
trust. I neither can nor will say more of them.” It is hard to discover
whence was derived the word Adiyah or Eediyah, which all writers have
copied from the Niger Expedition of Messrs. Allen and Thompson, and have
applied to the Bubé race. The fact is, the Fernandian, as might be
expected, has no national name, for “adiyah” is probably derived from
adios, arios, aros, the salutation borrowed from the old Spanish colony
long extinct. Bubé (not “bubi,” or “booby,”) means, not “friend,” but
“man,” a frequent address as the Castilian _hombre_, and thus assumed by
strangers as the popular appellation. In “High Bubé,” “adyah” means “the
moon,” which in the vulgar is “ballepo.”]
[Footnote 15: Literally, kingdom (drikhatta) of the devil (bad ghost).
So, the sky or heaven is also called Drikhatta ra Rupe, _i.e._, Kingdom
of God. Possibly, these are European ideas grafted upon the African
mind.]
[Footnote 16: In Northern Europe and in America the injured husband
kills the lover; in Asia and in Southern Europe he kills the wife. Which
proceeding is the more sensible? Can any man in his senses believe in
the seduction of a married woman? _Credat Creswell Creswell!_]
[Footnote 17: I allude of course to the Bubé in his natural and
unsophisticated state, not to him as corrupted by Europeans and by
Krumen. Mr. Winwood Reade, the author of an amusing and picturesque
book, “Savage Africa,” unfortunately visited only “Banapa,” one of the
worst specimens of a Bubé village. As a rule, the Fernandian has little
of the ignoble appearance that characterizes the true Negro.]
[Footnote 18: Some of the kidnapping tales that still linger on this
coast, show the straits into which, at times, men were driven for a
cargo. At Annobom, where the people are Negro-Portuguese, they are ever
looking forward to hearing mass from the mouth of a priest. A Spaniard
learning this, dressed up a pair of ecclesiastics, landed them, and
whilst the function was proceeding, seized the whole congregation, and
carried them triumphantly to market. The following communication will
show the value of Fernandian cotton. But, alas! labour is at 30s. per
week:—
“COTTON SUPPLY ASSOCIATION.
“Offices: No. 1, Newall’s Buildings,
“Manchester, February, 1864.
“Captain R. F. Burton, H.B.M. Consul,
“Fernando Po.
“Sir,—Your communication, with the two samples of cotton, had the due
attention of the Committee, and I have now to hand you their report upon
the latter.
“1st. Fernando Po.—Dull in colour, clean, staple fine, and fair length;
value 28d. per lb.
“2nd. Congo.—Dull brown colour, staple coarse and weak; value 27d. per
lb.
Middling Orleans Cotton being worth 28¼d. per lb.
“The Committee would be glad to learn that such cotton as your samples,
especially the first, could be sent from Fernando Po in large quantities
to this district, where trade is languishing, and our population so
severely suffering for want of a supply of such cotton.
“We shall be glad to have any further particulars respecting the
production of your immediate neighbourhood, and the price at which such
as your sample No. 1 can be collected, and any other information you may
be kindly disposed to furnish.
“I am, Sir,
“Yours respectfully,
(Signed) “ISAAC WATTS, Secretary.”]
[Footnote 19: The following sick list is taken from official documents
compiled at Fernando Po. Of thirty invalids, sent up from the lowlands
in November, 1863, there suffered from—
Dec. Jan. Feb. March.
Fever (simple and intermittent) 14 16 11 1
„ (remittent malignant) 3 2 2 0
„ (intermittent malignant) 0 0 1 0
Dysentery 3 1 2 0
Various 2 3 2 0
-- -- -- -
Total 22 22 18 1
It must be observed that in all cases, except those of simple
intermittents, the disease was contracted in the lowlands; moreover,
that of sixty-three, the grand total, not a patient died.]