An Irishman of the name of Scannel, who wished to get rid of his wife,
wrote her a melancholy letter by the last mail from the West-Indies, in
which he stated, that he _died_ of the yellow fever after three days
illness, and recommended her, and children, to the care of Providence
and his friends.
* * * * *
* * * *
REMARKABLE SPEECH
_OF ADAHOONZOU, KING OF DAHOMY,_
An Interior Nation of Africa,
On Hearing What Was Passing in England
Respecting the Slave-Trade.
I admire the reasoning of the white men; but, with all their sense, it
does not appear that they have thoroughly studied the nature of the
blacks, whose disposition differs as much from that of the whites, as
their colour. The same great Being formed both; and since it hath seemed
convenient for him to distinguish mankind by opposite complexions, it is
a fair conclusion to presume, that there may be as great a disagreement
in the qualities of their minds; there is likewise a remarkable
difference between the countries which we inhabit. You, Englishmen, for
instance, as I have been informed, are surrounded by the ocean, and by
this situation seem intended to hold communication with the whole world,
which you do, by means of your ships; whilst we Dahomans, being placed
on a large continent, and hemmed in amidst a variety of other people, of
the same complexion, but speaking different languages, are obliged, by
the sharpness of our swords, to defend ourselves from their incursions,
and punish the depredations they make on us. Such conduct in them is
productive of incessant wars. Your countrymen, therefore, who alledge
that we go to war for the purpose of supplying your ships with slaves,
are grossly mistaken.
You think you can work a reformation, as you call it, in the manners of
the blacks; but you ought to consider the disproportion between the
magnitude of the two countries; and then you will soon be convinced of
the difficulties that must be surmounted, to change the system of such a
vast country as this. We know you are a brave people, and that you might
bring over a great many of the blacks to your opinions, by the points of
your bayonets; but to effect this, a great many must be put to death,
and numerous cruelties must be committed, which we do not find to have
been the practice of the whites: besides, that this would militate
against the very principle which is professed by those who wish to bring
about a reformation.
In the name of my ancestors and myself I aver, that no Dahoman ever
embarked in war merely for the sake of procuring wherewithal to purchase
your commodities. I, who have not been long master of this country,
have, without thinking of the market, killed many thousands, and I shall
kill many thousands more. When policy or justice requires that men be
put to death, neither silk, nor coral, nor brandy, nor cowries, can be
accepted as substitutes for the blood that ought to be spilt for example
sake: besides, if white men chuse to remain at home, and no longer visit
this country for the same purpose that has usually brought them hither,
will black men cease to make war? I answer, by no means; and if there be
no ships to receive their captives, what will become of them? I answer,
for you, they will be put to death. Perhaps you may be asked, how will
the blacks be furnished with guns and powder? I reply by another
question, had we not clubs, and bows, and arrows, before we knew white
men? Did not you see me make _custom_--annual ceremony--for Weebaigah,
the third King, of Dahomy? And did you not observe, on the day such
ceremony was performing, that I carried a bow in my hand, and a quiver
filled with arrows on my back? These were the emblems of the times;
when, with such weapons, that brave ancestor fought and conquered all
his neighbours. God made war for all the world; and every kingdom, large
or small, has practised it more or less, though perhaps in a manner
unlike, and upon different principles. Did Weebaigah sell slaves? No;
his prisoners were all killed to a man. What else could he have done
with them? Was he to let them remain in his country, to cut the throats
of his subjects? This would have been wretched policy indeed; which, had
it been adopted, the Dahoman name would have long ago been extinguished,
instead of becoming, as it is at this day, the terror of surrounding
nations. What hurts me most is, that some of your people have
maliciously represented us in books, which never die; alledging that we
sell our wives and children, for the sake of procuring a few kegs of
brandy. No! we are shamefully belied, and I hope you will contradict,
from my mouth, the scandalous stories that have been propagated; and
tell posterity that we have been abused. We do, indeed, sell to the
white men a part of our prisoners, and we have a right so to do. Are not
all prisoners at the disposal of their captors? and are we to blame, if
we send delinquents to a far country? I have been told you do the same.
If you want no more slaves from us, why cannot you be ingenuous, and
tell the plain truth; saying, that the slaves you have already purchased
are sufficient for the country for which you bought them; or that the
artists, who used to make fine things, are all dead, without having
taught any body to make more? But for a parcel of men, with long heads,
to sit down in England, and frame laws for us, and pretend to dictate
how we are to live, of whom they know nothing, never having been in a
black man’s country during the whole course of their lives, is to me
somewhat extraordinary! No doubt they must have been biassed by the
report of some one who has had to do with us; who, for want of a due
knowledge of the treatment of slaves, found that they died on his hands,
and that his money was lost; and seeing others thrive by the traffic,
he, envious of their good luck, has vilified both black and white
traders.
You have seen me kill many men at the customs; and you have often
observed delinquents at Grigwhee, and others of my provinces, tied, and
sent up to me. I kill them, but do I ever insist on being paid for them?
Some heads I order to be placed at my door, others to be strewed about
the market-place, that people may stumble upon them, when they little
expect such a sight. This gives a grandeur to my customs, far beyond the
display of fine things which I buy; this makes my enemies fear me, and
gives me such a name in the _Bush_*. Besides, if I neglect this
indispensable duty, would my ancestors suffer me to live? would they not
trouble me day and night, and say, that I sent nobody to serve them?
that I was only solicitous about my own name, and forgetful of my
ancestors? White men are not acquainted with these circumstances; but I
now tell you, that you may hear, and know, and inform your countrymen,
why customs are made, and will be made, as long as black men continue to
possess their own country: the few that can be spared from this
necessary celebration, we sell to the white men; and happy, no doubt,
are such, when they find themselves on the path for Grigwhee, to be
disposed of to the Europeans--“We shall still drink water†,” say they to
themselves; “white men will not kill us; and we may even avoid
punishment, by serving our new masters with fidelity.”
[* The country expression for the woods.]
[† Meaning--“We shall still live.”]
[[Sources:
Original: 1793 _History of Dahomy_ by Archibald Dalzel.
Underlying source: “collected from the communications of” Lionel
Abson, governor since 1766 (“Whydah” aka Ouidah).
Background: “Whydah” is also spelled Ouidah. “Adahoonzou” or Adanzu
died in 1789 of smallpox.
Notes: The interpolated words “annual ceremony” after “make Custom”
are not in the original. The word “Customs” is capitalized
throughout. Footnotes are in the original.]]
* * * * *
+The ADVENTURES of ALPHONSO and MARINA;+
An Interesting Spanish Tale.
(Continued from page 336.)
‘Alas! Madam,’ answered the goatherd, ‘I wish it were in my power to
conduct you to the village of Gadara, behind these rocks: but you will
not ask me to return thither, when you are informed that my mistress is
this day to be married to my rival. I am going to leave these mountains,
never to behold them more; and I carry nothing with me but my flute,
a change of dress, which I have in this parcel, and the memory of the
happiness which I have lost.’
This short account suggested a new project to Marina.
‘My friend,’ said she to the goatherd ‘you have no money, which you will
certainly want, when you have left this country. I have a few ducats,
which I will divide with you, if you let me have the dress in your
parcel.’
The goatherd accepted the offer. Marina gave him a dozen ducats, and,
having learned the road to Gadara, took her leave of the despairing
lover, and returned into the grotto to put on her disguise.
She came out habited in a vest of chamois skin, with a shepherd’s wallet
hanging by her side, and, on her head, a hat ornamented with ribbands.
In this attire she appeared yet more beautiful than when adorned with
brocades and jewels. She took the road to the village, and, stopping in
the market-place, enquired of the peasants, if they knew of any farmer
who wanted a servant.
The inhabitants surround her, and survey the stranger with admiration.
The girls express their surprise at the beauty of her flowing ringlets.
Her elegant form, her graceful manner, the brilliancy of her eyes, even
though dejected, their superior intelligence and mild benignity,
astonish and delight all beholders. No one could conceive from whence
came this beautiful youth. One imagines him a person of high distinction
in disguise; another, a prince in love with some shepherdess; while the
schoolmaster, who was at the same time the poet of the village, declared
it must be Apollo, sent down, a second time, to keep sheep among
mortals!
Marina, who assumed the name of Marcello, was not long in want of a
master. She was hired by an aged alcaid, or judge of the village,
esteemed one of the worthiest men in the whole province.
This honest countryman soon contracted the warmest friendship for
Marina. He scarcely suffered her to tend his flock for a month before he
gave her an employment within his house, in which the pretended Marcello
behaved with so much propriety and fidelity, that he was equally beloved
by his master, and the servants.
Before he had lived here six months, the alcaid, who was more than
eighty, left the management of all his affairs to Marcello: he even
asked his opinion in all the causes that came before him, and never had
any alcaid decided with so much justice as he, from the time he
permitted himself to be guided by the advice of Marcello, who was
proposed as an example to all the village: his affability, his pleasing
manner, and his good sense, gained every heart. ‘See the excellent
Marcello,’ cried the mothers to their sons, ‘he is perpetually employed
in rendering his old master’s age happy, and never neglects his duty, to
run after the shepherdesses!’
Two years passed away in this manner. Marina, whose thoughts were
continually employed on her lover, had sent a shepherd, in whom she
could confide, to Granada, to procure information concerning Don
Alphonso, Alonzo, and Henriquez. The shepherd brought word back, that
Alonzo was dead, Henriquez married; and that Alphonso had not been seen
or heard of for two years.
Marina now lost all hope of again beholding her lover, and, happy in
being able to pass her days in that village, in the bosom of peace and
friendship, had resolved to bid an eternal adieu to love, when the old
alcaid, her master, fell dangerously ill. Marcello attended his last
moments with all the affection of a son, and the good old man behaved to
him like a grateful father: he died and left all he possessed to the
faithful Marcello. But his will was far from being a consolation to his
heir.
The whole village lamented the alcaid, and, after his funeral rites were
celebrated, the inhabitants assembled to choose a successor. In Spain
certain villages have the right of nominating their own alcaid, whose
office it is to decide their differences, and take cognizance of greater
crimes by arresting and examining the offenders, and delivering them
over to the superior judges, who generally confirm the sentence of those
rustic magistrates; for good laws are always perfectly consonant to
simple reason.
The assembled villagers unanimously agreed, that no one could be so
proper to succeed the late alcaid as the youth whom he seemed to have
designed for his successor. The old men, therefore, followed by their
sons, came with the usual ceremonies to offer Marina the wand, the
ensign of the office. Marina accepted, and sensibly touched by such a
proof of esteem and affection from these good people, resolved to
consecrate to their happiness a life which she had formerly intended to
dedicate to love.
While the new alcaid is engaged with the duties of her office, let us
return to the unfortunate Don Alphonso, whom we left galloping towards
Portugal, and continually removing farther from the beloved object of
his pursuit.
Don Alphonso arrived at Lisbon, without obtaining any intelligence of
Marina, and immediately returned, by the same road, to search every
place he had before in vain examined; again he returned to Lisbon, but
without success.
After six months ineffectual enquiry, being convinced that Marina had
never returned to Granada, he imagined she might perhaps be at Seville,
where, he knew, she had relations. He immediately hastened to Seville,
and there found that Marina’s relations had just embarked for Mexico.
Don Alphonso no longer doubted that his mistress was gone with them, and
directly went on board the last ship which remained to sail. He arrived
at Mexico, where he found the relations, but alas! no Marina: they had
heard nothing of her: he, therefore, returned to Spain. And now the ship
is attacked by a violent storm, and cast away on the coast of Granada;
he, and a few of the passengers, save themselves by swimming; they land,
and make their way to the mountains, to procure assistance, and, by
accident or love, are conducted to Gadara.
Don Alphonso and his unfortunate companions, took refuge in the first
inn, congratulating each other on the danger they had escaped. While
they were discoursing on their adventures, one of the passengers began
to quarrel with a soldier, concerning a box, which the passenger
asserted belonged to him.
Don Alphonso desirous to put an end to the contention, obliged the
passenger to declare what it contained, opening it, at the some time, to
discover whether he spoke truth.
How great was his surprise to find in it the jewels of Marina, and,
among them the very emerald he had given her. For a moment he stood
motionless, examining attentively the casket, and fixing his eyes,
sparkling with rage, on the claimant, ‘how came you by these jewels?’
said he, with a terrible voice.
‘What does it signify,’ replied the passenger, haughtily, ‘how I came by
them? It is sufficient that they are mine.’
He then endeavoured to snatch the casket from Don Alphonso; but the
latter, pushing him back, instantly drew his sword, and exclaiming,
‘Wretch, confess your crime, or you die this moment,’ attacked him with
great fury: his antagonist defended himself desperately, but presently
received a mortal wound, and fell.
Don Alphonso was immediately surrounded by the people of the house. They
take him to prison, and the master of the inn sends his wife to fetch
the clergyman of the parish, that he may administer spiritual comfort to
the dying man, while he runs himself, to the alcaid to carry the casket
and inform him of the whole adventure.
How great was the surprise, the joy, and the anxiety of Marina on
perceiving her diamonds, and hearing the behaviour of the noble
stranger!
She immediately hastened to the inn: the minister was already there; and
the dying man, induced by his exhortations, declared, in presence of the
alcaid, that, two years before, as he was one night passing through a
street in Granada, a lady had given him that box, through a lattice,
desiring him to hold it till she came down, but that he immediately made
off with the jewels; for which theft he asked pardon of God, and of the
unknown lady he had injured. He immediately expired, and Marina hastened
to the prison.
Imagine the palpitations of her heart: she could no longer doubt but she
should again see Don Alphonso, but he was apprehensive of being known by
him: she therefore pulled her hat over her eyes, wrapped herself up in
her cloak, and preceded by her clerk and the gaoler, entered the
dungeon.
(To be concluded in our next.)
* * * * *
STORY OF TWO CORDELIERS.
By Margaret Valois, Queen of France.
Two cordeliers, arriving late one evening at a little village, were
obliged to lodge at a butcher’s, and the chamber where they lay was only
separated by a few boards from that where the butcher and his wife
slept. Curiosity led the cordeliers to hearken what the man and woman
were conversing about. The husband began talking of his domestic
concerns, and said, “I must get up, my dear, to-morrow betimes, and give
a look at our cordeliers; one of them is, I think, in pretty good order,
but we will kill both, and salt them down, which will turn well to our
account.”--Although the butcher spoke only of his pigs, which he
jocosely called cordeliers, the poor friars were so horribly frightened,
that they were ready to expire with fear, and resolved to save
themselves by jumping out of the window. The thinnest of the two fell
lightly on the ground, and ran as far as the town without waiting for
his companion: the other followed his example; but being very fat, fell
so heavily, that he broke his leg, and with much difficulty crawled to a
little shed which he found not far off, and which proved to be precisely
the place where the pigs (his brother cordeliers) usually lay. Early the
next morning the butcher got ready his knife, and went straight to the
stye:--“Come, come, my cordeliers,” said he, “come out, come out, for
to-day I am resolved to eat some of your puddings.” The cordelier cried
out for mercy; and the butcher, who concluded that St. Francois had
metamorphosed one of his pigs into a friar, on purpose to punish him for
having sported with the name of a religious order of men, was overcome
with fear; but the matter being soon explained, the good fathers, in
gratitude for their hospitable reception, and fortunate release from
their fears, very peaceably parted with their host, and very kindly
comforted him with their benediction.
* * * * *
* * * *
_LOVE AND FOLLY._
* * *