HIS FIRST LEAVE.
"Oh, when wilt thou return, my love?
For as the moments glide,
They leave me wishing still for thee,
My husband, by my side;
And ever at the evening hour
My hopes more fondly burn,
And still they linger on that word,
'Oh, when wilt thou return?'"
----_To a Husband during a Long Absence._
Richard left me plenty of occupation during this awfully long absence
of sixteen months. Firstly, all kinds of official fights about India,
and then for a gunboat and other privileges for Fernando Po. I lived
with my father, mother, and family, and then I had a great deal to do
for his book, "The City of the Saints," and every letter brought its
own work and commissions, people to see and to write to, and things
to be done for him, so that I was never idle for a minute. I began
to feel, what I have always felt since, that he was the glorious,
stately ship in full sail, commanding all attention and admiration; and
sometimes, if the wind drops, she still sails gallantly, and no one
sees the humble little steam-tug hidden at the other side, with her
strong heart and faithful arms working forth, and glorying in her proud
and stately ship.
I think a true woman, who is married to her proper mate, recognizes the
fully performed mission, whether prosperous or not, and that no one
can ever take his place _for her_, as an interpreter of that which is
betwixt her and her Creator, _to her_ as the shadow of God's protection
here on earth.
In winter he made me go to Paris with the Napoleon ring and sketch,
mentioned in the little story called "The Last Hours of Napoleon;"
and, through want of experience and proper friends and protection, my
little mission of courtesy failed. The failure drew down upon me some
annoyances, which appeared very disagreeable and important to me at the
time; they are not worth mentioning, nor, indeed, had I been older and
more experienced, should I have thought them worth fretting about.
The rest of the time of those dreary sixteen months was wearing to a
degree, and diversified by ten weeks of diphtheria and its results.
One day I betook myself to the Foreign Office, and I cried my heart
out to Mr. (afterwards Sir) Henry Layard. He seemed very sorry for
me, and he asked me to wait awhile whilst he went upstairs; and, when
he came back, he told me that he had got four months' leave home for
my husband, and had ordered the despatch to be sent off that very
afternoon. I could have thrown my arms round his neck and kissed him,
but I did not; he might have been rather surprised. I had to go and sit
out in the Green Park till the excitement wore off; it was more to me
than if he had given me a large fortune.
At last the happy day came to go and meet Richard at Liverpool, and
I shall never forget the joy of our meeting. It was December, 1863,
and we had some happy weeks in England--a pleasant Christmas with my
people at Wardour, and at Lord Gerard's at Garswood, where the family
parties mustered strong, and at Fryston (Lord Houghton's), and several
other country-houses; and he brought out two books--"Wanderings in West
Africa" (2 vols., 1863), also "Abeokuta and the Cameroons" (2 vols.,
1863), which he dedicated to me, with a lovely inscription and motto,
of which I am very proud. And then came round the time again to leave.
But I told him I could not possibly go on living as I was living; it
was too miserable, one's husband in a place where one was not allowed
to go, and I living with my mother like a girl--I was neither wife, nor
maid, nor widow; so he took me with him. Excepting yachting, it was my
first experience of _real_ sea-going.
[Sidenote: _We sail for West Africa._]
The African steamships were established in January, 1852, by the
late Mr. MacGregor Laird, who was the second pioneer of the Niger
Exploration, and an enthusiastic improver of Africa. These steamers
were seven in number, and went once a month; four of them were of
978 tons. They went out to the West Coast, Fernando Po being their
furthest station save one, and the whole round from England and back
again caused them to visit twenty-two ports, and cover ten thousand
nautical miles at eight knots an hour; but they were built for cargo,
not for passengers. There was no doctor, no bath; the conveniences
were difficult, and the stewardess only went as far as Madeira, the
first port. We sometimes had seven or eight human beings stuffed into
a cabin, which had four berths. I speak of 1861-2-3-4; it may be all
changed since then. We now started in the worst circumstances. It was
the big storm of January, 1863, one of the worst that has ever been
known. My mother, who was a very bad sailor, insisted on coming on
board to see us off. It was terribly rough, and an ironclad just shaved
us going out, as we lay to in the river. There were even wrecks in the
Mersey. Our Captain frankly said that he had an accident every January,
but he would almost rather sink than have a mark put against his name
for not going out on his right day. Mother behaved most pluckily. She
went back in the tug, and she just reached Uncle Gerard's, which was
three-quarters of an hour from Liverpool, got up to her bedroom, took
up the poker to poke the fire, which fell out of her hand--she had
the strength to crawl to the bell--and when they came up she was on
the floor in that attack of paralysis with which she had been so long
threatened, and to stave off which, we had hid my marriage from her
just two years before.
Long before we had got past the Skerries, we were in serious trouble,
and the passengers implored the Captain to alter his course, and take
refuge in some harbour; but he explained to them that it would be
awfully dangerous to turn the ship's head round, as the going round
might sink her. I had forgotten in my ignorance to secure a berth, and
the Captain gallantly gave up his own cabin to me, till Madeira. It was
just on the break of the poop, and every wave broke over that before it
reached the saloon. The ship appeared quite unmanageable; she bucked
and plunged without stopping. There were seven feet of water in the
hold, and all hands and available passengers were called on to man the
pumps. The under berths were full of water, the bird-cages and kittens
and parcels were all floating about, most of the women were screaming,
many of the men-passengers were drunk, the lights went out, the
furniture came unshipped and rolled about at its own sweet will. The
cook was thrown on the galley fire, so there could be nothing to eat.
Fortunately the sea put the fire out. It was very difficult for men to
get along the deck.
A rich lady gave the stewardess £5 to hold her hand all night, so
the rest of us poorer ones had to do without consolation. One most
painful scene occurred. There were seven women, missionaries' wives,
going out either with or to join their husbands. One, a poor child of
sixteen, just married, missed her husband, and she called out in the
dark for him. A naval officer who was going out to join his ship, and
was tipsy the whole way, called out, "Oh, he has tumbled overboard,
and is hanging on outside; you will never see him any more." The poor
child believed it, and fell down in an epileptic fit, to which she
remained subject as long as I ever heard of her. Her husband and mine
were working at the pumps. I crawled to my bunk in the Captain's cabin,
sick and terrified, and I thought that the terrible seas breaking
against its side were loosening the nails, and that the sea would come
in and wash me out. I was far away from any help and quite alone, and
I hung on to the door, calling, "Carpenter! carpenter!" He came to my
assistance, but a huge wave covered us; it carried him overboard and
left me--he was never seen again. We lost two men that night.
As I lay there trembling, and terribly sea-sick, something tumbled
against my door, and rolled in and sank down on the floor. It was the
tipsy naval officer. I could not rise, I could not shut the door, I
could not lug him out, so I lay there. When Richard had finished his
work, he crawled along the decks till he got to the cabin, where the
sea had swamped through the open door pretty considerably. "Hullo!
what's that?" he said. I managed faintly to ejaculate, "The tipsy naval
officer." He picked him up by the scruff of his neck, and, regardless
of consequences, he propelled him, with a good kick behind, all down
the deck, and shut the door. He said, "The Captain says we can't live
more than two hours in such a sea as this." At first I was frightened
that I should die, but now I was only frightened that I shouldn't, and
I uttered feebly, "Oh, thank God it will be over so soon." I shall
never forget how angry he was with me, because I was not frightened,
and gave me quite a sermon. We were like that mostly three days and
nights, and then it got better, and I saw the steward passing with some
boiled mutton and caper sauce, and called out, "Oh, stop and give me
some." He cut me some slices, and I ate them like a starved dog. I got
up and dressed and went on deck, and have never been sea-sick since to
speak of. I do not speak of Richard, because he never was sea-sick in
his life; he never knew what it was; and I believe if it had not been
for spilling the ink, he would have been writing his manuscripts, even
if the ship had been going round like a squirrel's cage, as he always
did all his life, no matter what the weather, and ate and slept enough
for three.
[Sidenote: _We land at Madeira._]
The temperature changed by magic. There was a tropical calm at night;
the usual rough north-easterly breeze of the outside subsided into
a luxurious, sensual calm, with occasional puffs of soft, exciting
westerly zephyrs, or _viento de las mugeres_, formed by the land
wind of the night. We arrived in thirteen days at Madeira, having
been longer than usual on account of the three days' storm. We could
smell the land strong of clover hay long before we reached it. I
shall never forget my astonishment and delight when I looked out of
the port-hole one morning and found myself at Madeira. We had left a
frightful English winter, we had suffered much on the sea journey;
here was summer--luxuriant and varied foliage, warmth and splendour,
the profusion and magnificence of the tropics, a bright blue sky and
sun, a deep blue sea, mountains, hills covered with vines, white
villas covered with glorious creepers, and picturesque churches and
convents. Here we passed a most delightful six weeks. At that time,
for about £200 a year, one could have all the luxuries that one could
desire--ponies to ride, a hammock to carry you, boats to sail in, and
every comfort and luxury; and as for hospitality, there was hardly a
chance of breakfasting, lunching, or dining at home. We found here our
best and never-to-be-forgotten friend, Lady Marian Alford, with the
first Lord Brownlow, Dr. Frank, and a large party whose society we
daily enjoyed immensely. After some weeks we went on to Teneriffe in
another West African boat.
[Sidenote: _Yellow Fever._]
When we arrived at Santa Cruz, in Teneriffe, I did not think much of
it; it is not only far less pretty than Madeira, but there were no
comforts and luxuries. _En revanche_, it was far healthier, because
Madeira, like Davosplatz, had been quite used up by consumptives, and
was full of germs; but then we had arrived at a wrong moment, as we
found that the yellow fever was raging at Santa Cruz, and whilst we
were there it carried off three thousand people in as many weeks. There
was such a panic, that the moment a person was ill, the coffin was
brought in and put under the bed, by way of reassuring the patient, and
the moment they got into the state of coma, in which they either die or
recover, they were clapped into their coffins, but not locked down, and
the key was handed to the nearest relative, and the coffin was put into
the ground with only a small quantity of mould over it, so that when
the patient came to, and was strong enough, he or she would struggle
out and come home.
One woman came back in her graveclothes, and tapped at her cottage
door, which, in those parts, opens into what serves as a sitting-room.
Her daughter was sitting at the table, by moonlight, weeping for her
mother's death, when the tap came; she got up and opened the door, and
saw her mother standing in her graveclothes! Believing it to be her
ghost, she fell down insensible. The mother lived for many years, and
had more children, but the daughter never recovered her reason. One
gentlemen, whom we knew, took it at nine in the morning. We went to
inquire after him, and was told he was convalescent, and at eleven, two
hours later, we saw his funeral going down the street! English people
born at Teneriffe have such an emaciated appearance that I was always
condoling with them on having had the yellow fever; and then, to my
horror, I found it was their natural appearance. Richard and I thought
it better to move, and not waiting for our baggage, things being at
the worst, and transport difficult, we set off with knapsacks to walk
across the island, twenty-one miles, to Oratava, where we heard that
not a single case had made its appearance. There was a halfway house,
a very poor little inn. We slept there. Our room was shaped like a
claret-case, white-washed, with a tiny grating near the roof for air.
There was no furniture of any kind, but they put a mattress on the
floor, and gave us a rug. We lay down in our clothes, taking off our
weapons and laying them between us. When we woke in the morning, and
got up, intending to breakfast and continue our tramp, we found that
although we had closed the door, and stuck something up against it,
so that any one coming in would knock it down and make a noise, that
some one had stolen our best knife, from between us, and we were both
remarkably light sleepers. A Spaniard cannot resist a knife, and as
everything remained exactly as we had left it, it showed that there
was some trap-door, or panel in the wall for ingress, which was not
perceptible.
It was not comfortable, so we were not sorry to be once more upon the
road. We arrived at Oratava, and found it delightful. In our days
(1863) there were no hotels; but we were able to hire a room, the size
of a riding-school, in a private house on the Square. One side was
our bedroom, one corner our dressing-room, one our drawing-room and
dining-room, and the middle our study.
[Sidenote: _The Peak of Teneriffe._]
Whilst here (March, 1863) we made a delightful excursion up the Peak
of Teneriffe. We were out two days and one night. The Peak is 12,198
feet above sea-level. We bivouacked in the snow at 9600 feet, and slept
well. Temp., 16°. Around us were no end of little spirts of steam; we
counted thirty-five on the final cone. The view from the top, as the
dawn broke, was glorious. The horses slept lower down, further ascent
being too steep, and the most distressing thing was that they could
have no water. The mules could eat snow, but they could not; and coming
into the town, they flew at everybody with water-jars on their heads.
At last they heard the trickling of the stream near the little town,
and they bolted at full gallop. We drew rein, jumped down, and loosened
their girths, and let them drink. The only peculiarity of our journey
was that it was the _first_ performed in _winter_, and therefore people
were anxious about us.
The women of Teneriffe were the most beautiful I have ever seen--a
cross between Spanish and Irish, who were shipwrecked here in old
times. I used to stop and stare at them until they used to say, "What
are you staring at?" and I would answer, "At you, because you are so
pretty;" and they used to laugh with delight, and show the most lovely
teeth. I allude to the peasant women, whose Spanish is very pretty,
but not quite Castilian. Here I wrote my first book on Madeira and
Teneriffe; but my husband would not let me print it, because he did not
think it was up to the mark. He thought I must study and copy many more
years before I tried authorship. And he was right, both in this and not
letting me share with him the climate of West Africa. But I thought
both very hard at the time.
[Sidenote: _I return Home._]
The time came when he had to go back to his post, but I was not allowed
to _sleep_ at Fernando Po. I thought it dreadfully hard, and cried
and begged, but he was immovable; and he was right. So I turned back
again with a heavy heart, and had a passage back, if not quite as bad,
very nearly as bad, _viâ_ Teneriffe and Madeira. Being alone, I had
gone into the ladies' cabin--a very small hole with four berths, and
what is called by courtesy a sofa; but there were eight of us packed
in it. It was pitch dark; the porthole being closed on account of the
weather, the effluvia was disgusting. I got on a dressing-gown, and
crawled out to a stack of arms, which I fondly embraced, to keep myself
from rolling overboard, where I was found by one of the officers, who
ran off to the Captain; he found there was an empty deck cabin, which
they immediately put me into, and in a few hours, having got rid of the
noxious vapours, I quite recovered. I again passed a long and dreary
time, during which he kept me either with my parents well at work, or
at sea coming out and going back, with visits to Madeira and Teneriffe.
I had one _very_ anxious time, inasmuch as he was sent as her Majesty's
Commissioner to the King of Dahomè, in _those days_ by no means a safe
or easy thing.
DAHOMÈ.
"Beautiful feet are those that go
On kindly ministry to and fro--
Down lowliest ways if God wills so.
"Beautiful life is that whose span
Is spent in duty to God and man,
Forgetting 'self' in all that it can.
"Beautiful calm when the course is run,
Beautiful twilight at set of sun--
Beautiful death with a life well done."
[Sidenote: _Richard sent as H.M.'s Commissioner to Dahomè._]
Richard, being British Consul for Fernando Po, went to visit Agbome,
the capital of the kingdom of Dahomè. Lord Russell, hearing of this,
gave him instructions to proceed as her Majesty's Commissioner,
on a friendly mission to King Gelele, to impress upon the King the
importance the British Government attached to the cessation of the
slave-trade, and to endeavour by every possible means to induce him to
cease to continue the Dahoman customs. Now the Dahoman customs, as all
know, meant the cutting of the throats of prisoners of war, and, in old
days, making a little lake of blood on which to sail a boat. Not only
this, cruelty was the rule of every day. Throats cut, to send a message
to the king's father in the other world; women cut open alive in a
state of pregnancy to see what it was like; animals tied up in every
sort of horrible position. He writes--
"There is apparently in this people a physical delight in cruelty to
beasts as well as to men. The sight of suffering seems to bring them
enjoyment, without which the world is tame. Probably the wholesale
murderers and torturers of history, from Phalaris and Nero downwards,
took an animal and sensual pleasure--all the passions are sisters--in
the look of blood, and in the inspection of mortal agonies. I can see
no other explanation of the phenomena which meets my eye in Africa.
In almost all the towns on the Oil Rivers, you see dead or dying
animals fastened in some agonizing position. Poultry is most common,
because cheapest--eggs and milk are _juju_ to slaves here--they are
tied by the legs, head downwards, or lashed round the body to a
stake or a tree, where they remain till they fall in fragments. If
a man be unwell he hangs a live chicken round his throat, expecting
that its pain will abstract from his sufferings. Goats are lashed
head downwards tightly to wooden pillars, and are allowed to die a
lingering death. Even the harmless tortoise cannot escape impalement.
Blood seems to be the favourite ornament for a man's face, as
pattern-painting with some dark colour, like indigo, is the proper
decoration for a woman. At funerals, numbers of goats and poultry
are sacrificed for the benefit of the deceased, and the corpse is
sprinkled with the warm blood. The headless trunks are laid upon the
body, and if the fowls flap their wings, which they will do for some
seconds after decapitation, it is a good omen for the dead man.
"When male prisoners of war are taken they are brought home for
sacrifice and food, whilst their infants and children are sometimes
supported by the middle, from poles planted in the canoe. The priest
decapitates the men--for ordinary executions each Chief has his own
headsman--and no one doubts that the bodies are eaten. Mr. Smith and
Dr. Hutchinson both aver that they witnessed actual cases. The former
declares that, when old Pepple, father of the present King, took
captive King Amakree, of New Calabar, he gave a large feast to the
European slave-traders on the river. All was on a grand scale. But the
reader might perhaps find some difficulty in guessing the name of the
dish placed before his Majesty at the head of the table. It was the
bloody heart of the King of Calabar, just as it had been torn from
the body. He took it in his hand and devoured it with the greatest
apparent gusto, remarking, 'This is the way I serve my enemies!'
"Shortly after my first visit, five prisoners of war were brought in
from the eastern country. I saw in the _juju_-house their skulls,
which were suspiciously white and clean, as if boiled, and not a white
man doubted that they had been eaten. The fact is, that they cannot
afford to reject any kind of provisions."
Richard was the bearer of presents from Her Majesty to the King--one
forty-feet circular crimson silk damask tent, with pole complete; a
richly embossed silver pipe with amber mouthpiece; two richly embossed
silver belts, with lion and crane in raised relief; two silver waiters;
one coat of mail and gauntlets. This is not the place to introduce
the subject very largely into _this_ book, as I hope to do in "The
Labours and Wisdom of Richard Burton" (two further volumes that I am
preparing). But I may say that, with regard to his Mission, the King
said that if he renounced the customs of his forefathers his people
would kill him; that the slaves represented his fortune, but if the
Queen would allow him £50,000 a year, that he would be able to do
without it. With regard to the tent, it was exceedingly handsome, but
it was too small to sit under in that climate, and the only thing he
cared for was the gingerbread lion on the top of the pole. He liked his
old red-clay and wooden-stem pipe better than the silver one; he liked
the silver waiters very much, but he thought they were too small to
use as shields; he could not get his hand into the gauntlet; the coat
of mail he hung up and made into a target; and then he explained that
the only thing he really _did_ want, and would be much obliged to her
Majesty for, was a carriage and horses, and a white woman!
[Illustration: THE CHIEF OFFICER OF RICHARD'S BRIGADE OF AMAZONS.
_Sketched by himself._]
He made my husband a Brigadier-General of his Amazons, and I was
madly jealous from afar; for I imagined lovely women in flowing
robes, armed, and riding thoroughbred Arabs, and above is the Amazon
as, to my great relief, I found she was (afterwards). The King gave
him a string of green beads, which was a kind of Dahoman "Garter," a
necklace of human bones for his favourite squaw, and a silver chain and
Cross with a Chameleon on it. We traced in it the presence of former
missionaries, who doubtless found that their crucifixes were thought to
be a delightful invention for the King to crucify men, and therefore
they replaced it by the chameleon. I have lost my paper on it, and am
afraid to quote Greek without it. The King sent return presents to Her
Majesty; they consisted of native pipes and tobacco for Her Majesty's
smoking, and loin-cloths for Her Majesty to change while travelling,
and an umbrella to be held over Her Majesty's head whilst drinking.
The presents arrived one day whilst I was at the Foreign Office, but as
there had been a murder at Fernando Po, and Richard had been ordered to
send home the clothes of the murdered man, on opening the box they were
supposed to be these latter articles, and were put on one side. I was
told they looked quite dirty enough to be that.
[Illustration: CRUCIFIX.]
[Sidenote: _Dahomè and Richard's Travels._]
The journey occupied three months, during the whole of which time
the King made much of him, but holding his life in his hand, and
any spiteful moment might have ended it. He told me when he came
back, that he had seen enough horrid sights to turn a man's brain;
and he said, "I used to have to be perfectly calm and dignified
whilst seeing these things, or they would have had a contempt for me;
but I frequently used to send to the King to say, that if such or
such happened again, I should be obliged to leave his Court, as my
Government did not countenance such proceedings, which always had the
desired effect." On his return, he received no acknowledgment whatever
of his services, but Earl Russell wrote me a kind little note, in which
he said, "Tell Captain Burton that he has performed his Mission to my
utmost and entire satisfaction." I will renew the subject, as I said,
in my "Labours and Wisdom of Richard Burton."
[Sidenote: _His Travels, Business, etc. on the West Coast._]
The Bight of Biafra, on the West Coast of Africa, extends from
Fernando Po to Bathurst, about six hundred miles of coast, and that
was Richard's jurisdiction. The lawless conduct of the rum-corrupted
natives gave him a good deal of trouble. The traders and the merchants
of the coast are called "palm-oil lambs," and they used to call Richard
their "shepherd" (supercargoes and skippers are also called "palm-oil
ruffians" and "coast-lambs"). I believe he managed them very amicably,
and, in spite of business and the dangerous climate, he was supported
by all the better class of European agents and supercargoes. He pursued
his explorations with ardour. He knew the whole coast from Bathurst
(Gambia) to St. Paulo de Loanda (Angola). He marched up to Abeokuta,
he ascended the Cameroon Mountains,[1] the wonderful extinct volcano
described by Hanno the Carthagenian and Ptolemy's "Theon Ochema." He
wanted the English Government to establish a sanitarium there for the
West Coast, and a convict-station for garrotters, the last new crime
of _that_ day, and to be allowed to use them to construct roads, and
in cultivating cotton and chocolate. He told Lord Russell that he
would be responsible for them, and should never chain them or lock
them up, because, as long as they remained within a certain extent of
ring-fence, they would be well and hearty, and the moment they went
outside it, they would die without anybody looking after them. The
British Government was too tender over their darling human brutes,
the cruel, ferocious, and murderous criminals, though the climate was
considered quite good enough for Richard and other honourable and
active British subjects. He then told Earl Russell that if he would
make him Governor of the "Gold Coast," he could send home annually one
million pounds sterling; but Lord Russell answered him, "that gold was
becoming too common."
He then visited the cannibal Mpangwe, the Fans of Du Chaillu, whose
accuracy he had always stood up for when the world had doubted him, and
now he was able to confirm it. He then went to Benin City, which was
mostly unknown to the Europeans. Belzoni was born in Padua in 1778.
During the last eight years of his life he was an African explorer; and
he died in Africa, at Benin, in 1823, and he was buried at Gwato, at
the foot of a very large tree; guns were fired, and a carpenter from
one of the ships put up a tablet to his memory. It is suspected that he
was poisoned for the sake of plunder. It was said that some native had
inherited his papers. Richard offered £20 for them, but without avail.
Belzoni's tree is of a fine spreading growth, which bears a poison
apple, and whose boughs droop nearly to the ground. It is a pretty and
romantic spot. He writes, "I made an attempt at digging, in order that
I might take home his bones and, if possible, his papers, but I was
obliged to content myself with sketching his tree, and sending home a
handful of wild-flowers to Padua. He died, some say, on the 26th of
November, and some say the 3rd of December, 1820." It is remarkable the
tender feeling that Richard had for Travellers' graves abroad; indeed,
_any_ English graves abroad, but especially Travellers or Englishmen.
The number of graves that we have sought out, and put in a state of
repair and furnished with tombstones and flowers, you would hardly
believe--Lady Hester Stanhope's in Syria, Jules Jaquemont's in Bombay,
a French traveller, and many, many others. It showed the feeling that
he had about a traveller coming home to lay his bones to rest in his
own land, and the respect he had for their resting-place. It makes me
all the more thankful that I was able to bring _him_ home to the place
he chose himself, and that our friends enabled me to put up such a
monument to him.
He brought out, in _Fraser's Magazine_, several letters in February,
March, and April, 1863, previous to his "Wanderings." He ascended
the Elephant Mountain, and when he came home he lectured upon that
before the Geographical Society. I remember so well, when Richard
had submitted something he had written to Norton Shaw, at the Royal
Geographical Society, the latter saying, "I don't ever remember hearing
this word before, Burton! Where does it come from?" He threw back his
head and laughed. "I coined it myself of course, and who has a better
right?" Norton Shaw laughed heartily. "Well," he said, "it is a good
word, a very good word." "Oh!" said Richard, "I always coin one when I
have not got one; it is the only way." He visited the line of lagoons
between Lagos and the Volta river. He explored the Yellahlah rapids
of the Congo river, and while engaged in all this he collected 2859
proverbs in different African tongues, as for example the Wolof tongue,
Kanuri or Bornuese, the Oji or Ashanti, the Ga or Accra, the Yoruba;
some from the Eun or Dahoman; some from the Isubú, and Dúalla, of the
Bight of Biafra; some in the Efik of the Old Calabar river, also Bight
of Biafra; some from the Fans or Mpangwe, from the Upper Gaboon river.
He held that the object of language-study was to obtain an insight into
the character and thought-modes of Mankind, and that it was not only
necessary to speak their language, but to investigate their literary
compositions.
He thought that in the Semitic dialects, and in other Asiatic and
Indo-European tongues--as the Persian, which imitate their style--the
habit of balancing sentences naturally produces this parallelism,
and he believed that "The Thousand and One Nights" supplies as many
instances as can be found in the Hebrew poets. He thought that the
whole of Yoruba shows more or less the effects of El Islam. With
respect to the Kafirs, he says it must be noticed that they are a mixed
race of African, Arab, and perhaps Persian blood. He thought that a
collection of proverbs of this sort would make a kind of manual of
Asiatic thought. The nations of the East, he said, always delight in
the significant brevity of aphoristic eloquence; and the Proverbs of
Solomon show their antiquity and their extensive uses by the Jews. The
Arabs were equally addicted to proverbs, which passed into the Persian
and Indian languages. He therefore produced "Wit and Wisdom from West
Africa; or, a Book of Proverbial Philosophy, Idioms, Enigmas, and
Laconisms," in 1865, in 1 vol., and his "Mission to Gelele, King of
Dahomè" (2 vols., 1864), which should be _now_ a very useful book to
the French army, as his "First Footsteps in East Africa" or "Harar"
should be to the Italians.
[1] A month ago a black missionary from the Cameroons, with his white
wife and her two sisters, paid me a most feeling visit at Mortlake, and
visited Richard in his mausoleum, where they showed deep emotion and
affection. He had stayed with them on the Cameroons nearly thirty years
ago.--I. B.