"Yet was I born as you are, no man's slave,
An heir to all that liberal nature gave;
My mind can reason, and my limbs can move
The same as yours; like yours my heart can love:
Alike my body food and sleep sustain,
And e'en, like yours, feels pleasure, want, and pain:
One sun rolls o'er us, common skies surround,
One globe contains us, and one grave must bound."
Intent upon the orders of his employers, and of the advantages he
should obtain by the commission, Irving studied so much to ingratiate
himself with his host, that he very soon readily obtained his promise
of conducting him to his slave-rooms, the first opportunity he could
spare from his close attendance upon his royal master, to whom his
bold and haughty spirit made him eminently useful.
While Irving displayed the tempting assortment of spirits, trinkets,
dresses, and fire-arms, to the eager African, he artfully affected
indifference as to the purchase of slaves; being well acquainted with
the mode of making a good bargain, even when his fellow men were the
articles for which to negociate: so entirely does this infamous trade
debase and corrupt every generous emotion of the heart, and blunt every
honourable feeling. With the internal assurance, therefore, that the
view he had granted of his commodities, would induce the chief, as soon
as possible, to gratify his desire of possessing them, Irving waited
patiently the summons to attend him to the children of misery he had
by fraud and violence collected; and was fully prepared to accompany
him, upon his invitation a few days subsequent to the conclusion of
the coronation ceremonies. Irving was, however, astonished, when the
negro pointed out to him several spacious enclosures, the wretched
inhabitants of which were to purchase his selfish gratification,
and satisfy his cupidity; for Irving was not then aware that this
grandee was, in fact, the creature of his sovereign, acting as an
agent and slave-factor, upon the blood-stained gains of which he not
only lived in great splendour, but possessed from his riches great
power. His house was fitted up with European elegance, and was,
in exterior style, something resembling the buildings of the Moors;
consisting of courts, surrounded by apartments, beyond the precincts
of which were the receptacles of the slaves.
The transition from the elegance and luxuries of this African mansion,
to the slave-buildings, was striking; and to a heart yet unperverted
and unvitiated by the habitual view of uncontrouled power and
oppression over the defenceless, would have been most mournful.
But such was not the impression made upon either of the present
visitants; the one intent upon immediate self-gratification,
the other upon obtaining the means to ensure it in future. Nothing
could more strongly prove the tendency of this traffic to prostrate
every noble faculty of the soul, every tender impulse of the heart,
to destroy every sympathy of our nature, than the fact, that Irving,
the once generous, kind-hearted youth, beheld, with the cold regard
of a mere trader intent upon making an advantageous bargain, above
a hundred and twenty wretched beings in one house, all chained two
and two, by their hands and feet, and sitting in three rows on the
floor! They were of various ages of youth, and different in features;
many of them having come, as the grandee observed, "a journey of many
moons," that is, many hundred miles inland.
While examining these miserable captives with all the technical
minuteness of jockeys, or cattle-dealers, (during which the
wretched exiles evinced the strongest and most varying emotions of
reluctance, grief, and indignation,) the people of the chief brought
in thirty-five more individuals, whom they had taken in a small town
or village of the interior, and which they had attacked by order
of their employer, leaving the aged and young infants butchered in
their simple huts. Among this last group were several women, who
exhibited the most heart-rending evidences of distraction and grief,
in the loss of their infants, and the prospect of the unknown evils
that awaited them in bondage.
Amongst this number, however, great as it was, there were no
slaves which suited the purposes of Irving; and he proceeded with
his conductor to several other enclosures, from which he selected
a few of inferior value. The negro then told him, he would show
him what he termed "prime and superb negroes." In passing over to
one of these enclosures, which were at some distance, Irving was
arrested by a faint and low moan, as of distress, followed by an
air of most exquisite plaintive melody, with which was intermingled,
at intervals, the sound of an infantine voice, so lively as to speak
the unconsciousness, of the innocent from whose lips it proceeded,
of the mournful lot to which it was destined.
"What sound is that?" he enquired of his host, as he stopped to listen
from whence it proceeded; for even upon his deadened soul the song had
vibrated. (Note H.) "I dare say it is the Senegal slave I had selected
for my royal master," replied the negro; "but she bewailed being parted
from her boy so much, that, to save her life, I was obliged to suffer
her to see him once or twice a day, during the ceremonies. I shall,
however, soon make her submit, now I can attend to her: I shall sell
her for a great price, if I can separate the child from her, without
hazarding her life."
"Perhaps she will suit me," said Irving; "the boy would be no objection
to the purchase, if he is strong and healthy. Let me see them." The
negro hesitated; but at length observed, "They are worth a great
deal," as if he doubted that Irving would be disposed to give the
price. "You remember that beautiful sabre, and the brandy-chest full of
prime liquor, and those muskets you admired, and"----observed Irving
carelessly, but was interrupted in his enumeration by the African:
"Yes, yes, I remember: what! will you give them for her and the
boy?" "I cannot promise that, you know, unless I see her: you may
be telling me a false tale. It at least can do no harm to see this
slave you keep so close."
"True, true, I scorn to deceive so good a friend," rejoined the negro,
half afraid that Irving would recede from his implied bargain:
"You shall certainly see this refractory woman; that is, she is
only obstinate when I remove the boy. I wish they had killed the
young urchin at once, when they carried her off. She is very gentle
when he is with her: she only chooses to sing those mournful songs
about Tumiáh: I suppose he was her husband. However, at all events,
the boy cannot go to the palace with her."
During this conversation, they had reached the hut in which the poor
slave was confined alone, in the hope of making her yield to the will
of the African, by consenting to be conveyed to the palace without
her child. Irving followed the negro into the hut. The moment the
latter got within it, the miserable inmate uttered a piercing shriek,
and clasped her child with convulsive strength to her bosom, imploring
the tyrant not to tear him from her widowed arms. There was one chord
in the soul of Irving, which, amid the circumstances of his life,
and despite of time, yet responded. It was the memory of his mother's
caresses, when in his childhood she became a widow.
The scene he now witnessed, struck powerfully on this chord of
feeling. The distraction of the captive, her extreme youth, her beauty,
the neglect of grief so apparent in her simple dress, her unornamented
hair, her trembling limbs, her heaving bosom, her eloquent eye, her
fevered lip, her attitude, and the energy with which she held her now
alarmed child; altogether, combined a picture, which coming suddenly
upon his previously somewhat softened feelings, had a powerful effect
upon him, and, for a time, made him forget he was a slave-dealer,
and caused the nobler feeling of the man to prevail. He determined, if
possible, to save the wretched woman from the fate that awaited her;
forgetting that, perhaps, one equally horrible might be her lot, did
she become his property. When, therefore, he heard the African tyrant
threaten her with a flogging if she persisted in singing such mournful
songs, he almost involuntarily said: "If you are willing to barter her
and the child, for what I named, and a selection of those trinkets you
admired, to which I will add four gallons of rum, we are agreed upon
the bargain." The negro again regarded Irving with a half suspicious,
half incredulous glance, but remained silent. "I am serious," said
Irving; "are we agreed?" "Let me see," muttered the negro to himself;
"that fong, (sword,) mounted in silver gilt, and embossed handle; the
chest with fine brandy; ten fine kiddos; (guns;) trinkets to please
woollima moosa, (handsome wife,) and four gallons of rum: delicious
rum make me merry, happy. Make the rum eight gallons," he added aloud
to Irving, "and she," pointing to the being he was thus selling, "she
is yours."--"And the boy, remember?" replied Irving. "O yes, the boy,
the boy, to be sure," reiterated the African, hardly knowing how to
repress his joy. Though almost absorbed in profound grief, the wretched
captive yet understood she was about to be transferred, and that
her child was to be included in the transfer. In an agony of mingled
emotion, after having timidly regarded Irving's countenance, while he
intently watched hers, she threw herself at his feet, imploring his
mercy, and by a thousand expressive gestures, imparted the feelings
which agitated her soul. In this lowly attitude she fainted; and when
a little recovered, she exclaimed in mournful accents: "O Tumiáh,
where art thou? Thou canst no more hear thy Imihie: she goes to the
land of strangers, and will see thee no more, till death conveys her
beyond the blue mountains. And Samboe, my boy," she added, as she
called the playful and unconscious child from some flowers he was
gathering from the ground, "thou wilt see thy father no more. Thou
art a slave, my child: hard will be thy lot in the land of strangers,
among the manstealers, when Imihie, thy mother, no longer shall
feel pain, nor endure bondage. But I will watch over thee, my boy,
I will be thy spirit: I will conduct thee over the blue mountains,
the manstealer shall not follow us there."
The negro's anger began to rise, during this soliloquy of his hapless
captive; and calling vehemently for attendants, he directed she should
be conducted, with her child, to a place appointed, with care to be
taken that she should not do herself any injury, until Irving had
concluded his engagement, and could have her removed to Whidáh.
Irving declined viewing any more of the slaves on that day, and
having determined to remain but a few days longer with the chief, he
lost no time in making good his purchase of the female slave and her
child. One impediment to his returning to Whidáh, however, there was,
which he might have anticipated; but in his eagerness to purchase the
wretched Imihie, he had not considered that while the rum and brandy
remained, the grandee and his companions were totally incapable of
business; but, in the intervals of stupefaction, were guilty of the
most wanton excesses. Nor was his African majesty himself, exempt
from effects of the potent contents of the liquor-chests consigned
to his favourite, who artfully concealed from him the circumstance
of Imihie; informing the king only, that he had obtained the liquor
from an English merchant, for some dry goods, ivory, and gum. The
monarch enquired if this merchant traded also in slaves. "Doubtless
he does," replied the wily courtier: "he comes from the land of the
manstealers, and will not, therefore, refuse the commodity in the way
of trade. Would my royal master wish to see this Englishman?" "It
is my desire," answered the king; "let him have notice of our
pleasure." The grandee prostrated himself, and retired to caution
Irving to conceal the transaction of the female slave from the king,
or he would doubtless force her from him. The morrow was appointed
for the interview with the monarch, who, the courtier said, had some
slaves to offer for brandy and trinkets for his wives.
"Where wast thou, then, sweet Charity, where then,
Thou tutelary friend of helpless men?
Perish the wretch, that slighted and withstood
The tender argument of kindred blood.
But tho' some nobler minds a law respect,
That none shall with impunity neglect,
In baser souls unnumber'd evils meet,
To thwart its influence, and its end defeat."
Shall a Briton, shall a man "honoured with a Christian name" encourage
slavery, because the semi-barbarous, unenlightened, lawless African
hath done it? "To what end (it is impressively asked) do we profess
a religion whose dictates we so flagrantly violate? Wherefore have
we that pattern of goodness and humanity, if we refuse to follow
it? How long shall we continue a practice which policy rejects,
justice condemns, and piety revolts at?"