Samboe; or, The African Boy
Date: 2011-09-02T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Slavery -- Africa -- Fiction

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Title: Samboe; or, The African Boy

Author: Mary Ann Hedge

Release date: September 2, 2011 [eBook #37296]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ for Project
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAMBOE; OR, THE AFRICAN BOY ***

“She uttered a piercing shriek, & clasped her child with convulsive strength to her bosom imploring the tyrant not to tear him from her widowed arms.”

See page 60.

London Published by Harvey & Darton, Gracechurch Street. June 14th. 1823.

SAMBOE;
OR,
THE AFRICAN BOY.

BY THE AUTHOR OF
“Twilight Hours Improved,” &c. &c.

And man, where Freedom’s beams and fountains rise,

Springs from the dust, and blossoms to the skies.

Dead to the joys of light and life, the slave

Clings to the clod; his root is in the grave.

Bondage is winter, darkness, death, despair;

Freedom the sun, the sea, the mountain, and the air!

Montgomery.

London:
PRINTED FOR HARVEY AND DARTON,
GRACECHURCH-STREET.
1823.

TO
WILLIAM WILBERFORCE, Esq.
M. P.

THIS SMALL VOLUME,
DIFFIDENTLY AIMING TO SERVE THE CAUSE OF HUMANITY
IS,
BY HIS KIND PERMISSION
TO GIVE IT THE SANCTION OF HIS NAME,
HUMBLY DEDICATED;
WITH EVERY SENTIMENT OF UNFEIGNED VENERATION
AND RESPECT FOR HIS
EXALTED PATRIOTIC AND PRIVATE VIRTUES,

And grateful acknowledgment
OF HIS CONDESCENSION, IN HONOURING WITH HIS
ATTENTION THE HUMBLE EFFORTS OF

THE AUTHOR.

Advertisement.

It has been justly remarked, “that all who read may become enlightened;” for readers, insensibly imbibing the sentiments of others, and having their own latent sensibilities called forth, contract, progressively, virtuous inclinations and habits; and thereby become fitted to unite with their fellow-beings, in the removal or amelioration of any of the evils of life. With a full conviction of this, I have attempted, and now offer to my young readers, the present little work. To the rising generation, I am told, the great question of the slave-trade is little known; the abolition of it, by our legislature, having taken place either before many of them existed, or at too early a period of their lives to excite any interest. Present circumstances, however, in reference to the subject, ensure for it an intense interest, in every heart feeling the blessing of freedom and all the sweet charities of home; blessings which it is our care to dispose the youthful heart duly to appreciate, and hence to feel for those, deprived, by violence and crime, of these high privileges of man.

It is true, England has achieved the triumph of humanity, in effacing from her Christian character so dark a stain as a traffic in human beings; a commerce, “the history of which is written throughout in characters of blood.” Yet there are but too strong evidences that it is yet pursued to great and fearful extent by other nations, notwithstanding the solemn obligations they have entered into to suppress it; obligations “imposed on every Christian state, no less by the religion it professes, than by a regard to its national honour;” and notwithstanding it has been branded with infamy, at a solemn congress of the great Christian powers, as a crime of the deepest dye. Of this there has long been most abundant melancholy proof; yet, under its present contraband character, it has been attended by, if possible, unprecedented enormities and misery, as well as involving the base and cruel agents of it in the further crime of deliberate perjury, in order to conceal their nefarious employment.

Surely, then, no age can scarcely be too immature, in which to sow the seeds of abhorrence in the young breast, against this blood-stained, demoralizing commerce! Surely, no means, however trivial, should be neglected, to arouse the spirit of youth against it! It would be tedious, and, indeed, inconsistent with the brevity of this little work, to name the number of the great and the good who have protested against, and sacrificed their time and their treasure to abolish it. Suffice it to say, that an apparently trifling incident first aroused the virtuous energies of the ardent, persevering Clarkson, in the great cause;—that a view of the produce of Africa, and proofs of the ingenuity of Africans, kindled the fire of enthusiasm in the noble and comprehensive mind of a Pitt. Nor did the flame quiver or become dim while he was the pilot of the state, though he was not decreed to see the success of perseverance in the cause of justice and humanity.

Let me, therefore, be acquitted of presumption, when I express a hope, that, trifling as is the present work, yet, as the leading events it records are not the creations of fancy, but realities that have passed; that they have not been collected for effect, or uselessly to awaken the feelings; but having been actually presented in the pursuit of a disgraceful and cruel commerce, are now offered to the view of my young readers, in order to confirm the great truths, that cruelty and oppression encouraged, soon brutalize the nature of man; divesting him of every distinguishing trait which unites him with superior intelligences, and sinking him in the scale of being far below the ravening wolf and insatiate tiger; and that the slave-trade, more especially, never fails effectually to destroy all the sympathies of humanity, and so far to barbarize those who are concerned in it, as assuredly to cause civilized man to resume the ferocity of the savage whom he presumes to despise.

The Author.

“Offspring of love divine, Humanity!

—— —— —— —— ——

Come thou, and weep with me substantial ills,

And execrate the wrongs that Afric’s sons,

Torn from their native shore, and doom’d to bear

The yoke of servitude in foreign climes,

Sustain. Nor vainly let our sorrows flow,

Nor let the strong emotion rise in vain.

But may the kind contagion widely spread,

Till, in its flame, the unrelenting heart

Of avarice melt in softest sympathy,

And one bright ray of universal love,

Of grateful incense, rises up to heaven!”

Roscoe’s Wrongs of Africa.

“E’en from my pen some heartfelt truths may fall;

For outrag’d nature claims the care of all.”

Samboe;
Or,
The African Boy.

Chapter I.

“Slaves of gold! whose sordid dealings

Tarnish all your boasted powers,

Prove that ye have human feelings,

Ere ye proudly question ours.”

“Encourage the chiefs to go to war, that they may obtain slaves; for as on many accounts we require a large number, we desire you to exert yourself, and not stand out for a price.” Such was the direction, and such the order, of the slave-merchants at Cape Coast Castle, to one of their factors in the interior, for the collection and purchase of slaves; who, dreadful as was his occupation, yet at all times faithfully endeavoured to obey the orders of his employers.

This person had, by studying the character, peculiarities, prejudices, and language of the natives, obtained a great influence over the chiefs of a country, peculiarly blessed by Providence, with all that can enchant the eye, or gratify the wants of man. It is a well-known, but melancholy truth, that, by the introduction of spirituous liquors, and other desirable articles to an uncivilized people, the Europeans have greatly augmented and cherished the dreadful traffic in human beings: the African kings and chiefs being induced, by these temptations, to barter their subjects and captives, for commodities they estimate so highly; frequently even fomenting quarrels, and making war with each other, at the instigation of the slave-factors, for the sole purpose of obtaining captives, in order to exchange them for European articles, with which the factors, who visit their country for the dreadful purpose, are well furnished; to tempt the appetites, and provoke the wild passions, of the wretched beings they intend to make the instruments of their inhuman thirst of gain. (Note A.)

“The natural bond

Of brotherhood is sever’d as the flax

That falls asunder at the touch of fire—

And having pow’r

T’ enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause,

Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey.”

Mr. Irving, the factor whom we have named as having received the peremptory and unlimited order from the merchants of Cape Coast Castle, had won their confidence, by the remarkable success which had attended his negociations with the king and principal grandees of Whidáh, in which delightful part of Africa he had resided for some years. Nothing, perhaps, more strongly proves the indurating power of the love of gain upon the heart, and the baneful influence of the habitual view of oppression on the better feelings of the soul, than the change which generally takes place in the characters of the young men whose official duty places them in situations like that filled by Mr. Irving. It has, indeed, been most justly and impressively observed, that it is impossible for any one to be accustomed to carry away miserable beings, by force, from their country and endearing ties, to keep them in chains, to see their tears, to hear their mournful lamentations, to behold the dead and the dying mingled together, to keep up a system of severity towards them in their deep affliction, to be constant witnesses of the misery of exile, bondage, cruelty, and oppression, which, together, form the malignant character of this nefarious traffic, without losing all those better feelings it should be the study of man to cherish; or without contracting those habits of moroseness and ferocity which brutalize the nature.

Irving, like many other youths, had been induced by an ardent curiosity, and an enterprising spirit, to engage as a writer to the Royal African Company1, at a time when the traffic in slaves was legally pursued, as one source of riches to a great commercial nation. Yet it may with candour be presumed, that he, and many a youth entering upon the same path, with the same laudable impulses, had they anticipated the peril to which they exposed their humane principles, by engaging themselves in a trade so repugnant to nature, religion, and justice, would rather have undergone personal hazard and difficulty in their native land, so that they might have fostered that divine principle, which is the noble and distinguishing characteristic of man—of free-born man.

That Irving possessed a native humanity and right feeling, would appear from his letters to his friends in England, written on his arrival in Africa; and as he describes the country as it first met his admiring and youthful eye, it may be not unamusing to my young readers, to extract a few passages from his letters to his sister, before we pursue the detail of subsequent events, in which he was an actor. “Well, my dear Sophy,” he observes, “are you reconciled to your brother becoming a dealer in slaves? I assure you I have had some compunctious visitings of conscience upon the subject during the voyage; the calmness and monotony of which, gave me ample opportunity of reflecting upon the kind-hearted arguments of my good little sister, against a commerce, which, I believe she says true when she asserts, ‘is founded in injustice and crime, and a compound of all that is wicked and cruel.’ But, Sophy, what will you call your wild brother, when I tell you, that the first glance I had of this enchanting country, put you, your arguments, the unhappy and abused natives, from my mind, in an instant; and I could only bless my stars that I was to become an inhabitant of a region which seemed to offer so many delights—so many interesting studies for my pencil. I can anticipate all you would say upon this subject, as to the cruelty of tearing the miserable natives from scenes which ‘breathe of Paradise,’ so as to have raised the enthusiasm of even the thoughtless heart of Charles Irving. But I have no time for argument, Sophy, scarcely that for brief description. Imagine then, my dear sister, the most boundless luxuriancy of landscape, continually clothed with all the beauties and riches of spring, summer, and harvest; lofty mountains covered with wood, chiefly fruit-trees; fine streams, romantic and fertile valleys. Such is the general appearance: the scenery in detail surpasses description. This charming country seems to be remarkably populous. The kingdom of Whidáh, in which is situated the factory to which I am at present appointed, is (as you will find on consulting your map) on the western side of Africa, commonly called the slave-coast. This kingdom we should rather call a county, as it extends only about ten miles along the coast, and about seven miles inland. Yet, although of so small an extent, it is divided into twenty-six divisions, or provinces. The villages are numerous, and thickly inhabited. The houses or huts of the natives are small; conical at the top, and thatched either with long grass, or the palmetto leaves. The interior is very clean; but from the fish and other articles of food kept in them, you may readily imagine the effluvia is not very pleasant to European nicety.

The furniture of these dwellings is not very costly, seldom amounting to more than a chest to contain their light and simple articles of clothing; a mat to repose upon, raised a little from the floor; a jar to contain water, and calabashes of various sizes; two or three wooden mortars to pound corn and rice, and a basket or sieve to prepare it when done. The villages formed of these huts are generally built in a circle, surrounded by a clay wall, scattered over the country in the midst of beautiful groves clear of brushwood, and have a most picturesque and beautiful effect to a stranger’s eye. The fields are always verdant, and nature puts forth her beauties with inexhaustible profusion; perpetual spring and autumn succeeding each other. The Company’s factory here, is most pleasantly situated in the midst of gardens, which amply supply it, and the fort, (called Fort William,) consisting of four batteries, mounting seventeen guns. In these gardens is an abundant supply of beans, potatoes, every other edible root known in Europe, and a great variety of delicious fruits peculiar to the climate. Amongst the most beautiful and useful vegetable riches of Africa, may be reckoned the plantain and banana trees. The latter bears a fruit six or seven inches in length, covered with a yellow skin, very tender when ripe. The pulp of it is as soft as a marmalade, and of a most pleasant taste. It grows on a stalk about six yards high, the leaves being nearly two yards long, and a foot wide. One stalk only bears a single cluster of the fruit, which sometimes consists of forty or fifty bananas; and when the cluster is gathered, the stalk is cut off, or it would bear no more fruit. The plantain is not unlike the banana, but somewhat longer, although the flavour greatly resembles it. The leaves, and every part of the tree, are converted into a variety of useful articles. There are also guavas, a fruit very like our peach, except that the external coat is rougher; and it has small kernels like the apple, instead of a stone. Cocoas, oranges, lemons, citrons, and limes, abound, and, as you may readily suppose, are in great request amongst us, as well as beautiful additions to the luxuriant vegetable riches of the country.”

In a subsequent letter he again writes: “I was much pleased this morning to see the natives extracting what we call the wine from the palm tree, which is beautifully straight and lofty, growing sometimes to a prodigious height.

“They make an incision in the trunk, near the summit of the tree, to which they apply, in succession, gourd bottles, conducting the liquor into them by means of a pipe formed of the leaves. This wine is very pleasant when fresh drawn, but is apt to disagree with Europeans in that state. After fermentation, however, it becomes like Rhenish wine, and is extremely good, without being prejudicial. You would be alarmed, Sophy, to see how rapidly and nimbly the natives mount these lofty trees, which are sometimes sixty, seventy, and even a hundred feet in height, and the bark smooth. The only aid they have is a piece of the bark of a tree, which they form into a hoop by holding the two ends, having enclosed themselves and the trunk of the tree. They then place their feet against the tree, and their backs against the hoop, and mount as quick as thought. It sometimes occurs that they miss their footing, the consequence of course is, that they are precipitated with tremendous force to the ground, and dashed to pieces.

“There is another tree called the ciboa, very much like the palm, and applied to the same purposes: the wine of this is not quite so sweet as that of the palm.

In another letter he further observes: “I think you will be pleased to hear in what manner I pass my time here, my dear Sophy, while you are perhaps talking of me in the dear domestic circle; I will therefore give you the journal of a day, which, with little variation, is the general mode of my living.

“I rise by day-break, in order to enjoy the refreshing coolness of the morning, and generally ride or walk into the country, through the delightful woods and savannahs.

“On my return, I breakfast on never-tiring tea, or, for want of it, a sort of tea growing in the woods, called simbong. Upon any deficiency of sugar, I use honey, as it is at all times easily procured; except, perhaps, when the natives are making their honey wine, of which they are immoderately fond. Sometimes I take milk, with cakes of rice or flour; or Guinea-corn, baked in a very useful article in my kitchen; viz. a large iron pot. The milk will not boil without turning to whey, which I ascribe to the nature of the grass upon which the cows feed. My dinner is frequently beef, either fresh or salted, in which latter state it will keep six or seven days. This I either boil and eat with coosh-coosh, (Note B.) a favourite dish with the natives, or with pumpkins and coliloo, like spinach, both of which are plentiful. Fowls are so cheap and common, that they may always be purchased for a few charges of gunpowder; and when I wish for either fish or game, I send a fisher or hunter, allowed by the factory, to supply me; and they never fail to bring me ample store of the finest sorts of the former; and of the latter, deer, ducks, partridges, wild geese, and what are here called crown birds, all which abound in their different seasons.

“The afternoon is the usual time of trade; but sometimes it is protracted during the whole of several days, and being my proper business, I make a point of never neglecting it (Note C.) If concluded early, I sometimes take a trip to some of the neighbouring villages, and return home to supper, amusing myself, as I am now doing, with writing or reading, and occasionally visiting two or three friends. In these visits, the refreshment is generally palm and honey wine, or a fruit called cola, which very agreeably relishes water. I frequently, also, form one of a party in shooting doves and partridges. I have indeed no want of society, generally having even more company than I desire. These visitors are traders, and messengers from the great men in this and the adjacent kingdom, who frequently send me presents of pieces of cloths, cows, spices, and even a slave. These presents I would gladly decline, as I well know they are given with a view of obtaining more valuable returns, or to bribe me to some measure in which my interest or aid is required; but I am obliged to accept what they offer, because the interest of the Company renders it necessary to conciliate the natives, who may forward the trade. But to return to my accommodation: perhaps you think I repose on the ‘verdant mead, under the spreading palm.’ No such thing, my dear Sophy: my bed-room is large and airy, and during the rainy season glows with the cheering blaze of a fire. My bedstead is raised by forkillas; at the head and feet are cross poles, upon which is placed a platform of split cane. My bed itself is composed of silk-cotton, a sort of vegetable down, extremely soft, and very plentiful here; and to complete my bedstead, I have erected light posts at the corners, to support a pavilion of thin cloth, as a defence against the musquitoes. Independently of the linen I brought from England, I have some presented to me, by a negro king and his sister: (what think you of that, Sophy?) it consists of fine cotton cloths, six yards long and three wide: these I use for sheets. Thus, you find, I have all my comforts around me, even on the burning shores of Africa, to which you were so unwilling I should direct my way.

“I cannot close my letter without telling you of the pleasure I enjoyed in my excursion this morning, with a friend who is my colleague in office, and with whom I am indeed so intimate, that we have acquired the designation of ‘the inseparables.’ We set out just as the day was dawning, and had penetrated nearly five miles into the country, ere the sun bore any oppressive power; and taking our fowling pieces with us, we shot a few birds for sport, as we proceeded through a country rich beyond your imagination to conceive. We rested ourselves at the foot of a rock, and ate a hearty breakfast of fruit, washing it down with palm wine, with which we were provided, and milk from the cocoa-nuts we gathered. We then continued to explore scenes which seemed to realize the picture imagination forms of Paradise. Coming to a beautiful expanse of water, we again seated ourselves, to enjoy a second meal, as well as the beauty and the heavenly repose, adorning and pervading these vast solitudes.

“The tinkling of several little rills, and the sound of several larger cascades that fell from the rocks, only broke the stillness of the spot, in every other respect profound; and altogether diffused a tranquillity over the soul, the influence of which I still feel, but am unable to define. The orange and lime trees adorning the spot, bending under the weight of their delicious fruit, and diffusing around their fragrant odour; a number of other beautiful shrubs and trees intermingling their various tints of foliage, and tempting the hand to gather their rich fruit; combined with the cataracts, the surrounding hills, covered with the noblest trees and liveliest verdure, and in their various angles and projections, exhibiting the bold and free strokes of nature; altogether composed what might, without exaggeration, be called a terrestrial Paradise, the effect of which cannot be imagined, unless it were seen. You may be sure that it was not without regret we quitted this delightful spot, which raised our curiosity and desire, to the highest degree, further to explore the country. Nor (shall I confess it, Sophy?) could we forbear remarking, that if the attention of our country was directed to the civilization, and the improving the natural resources of such a country, instead of robbing and devastating it, it would be far more honourable to us as Britains, and as men, enjoying all the privileges of that envied title. But I think I hear you say: ‘You tell me much of yourself, and of the face of the country you have chosen for a residence, but you tell me little of the inhabitants of this favoured region.’ This I must reserve for another packet, my dear sister, as also an account of my visit to Sabi2. In the mean time I will assure you, that I have no regrets in having quitted for a while my country, except my separation from you and my family, every member of which must ever be dear, to their affectionate

”Charles Irving.”

1 A society of merchants, established by king Charles II. for trading to Africa; which trade was laid open to all his majesty’s subjects, and those of succeeding monarchs, until the abolition took place, 1807.

2 Capital of Whidáh, situated about four miles from the factory at Whidáh.

Chapter II.

“What’s all that Afric’s golden rivers roll,

Her odorous woods, and shining ivory stores?

Ill-fated race! the softening arts of peace,

And all-protecting freedom, which alone

Sustains the name and dignity of man:

These are not theirs!”

Presuming that our young readers are not uninterested in the accounts of Charles Irving, we shall make a few more extracts from his correspondence. “You tell me,” he observes in reply to the expressed wishes of his sister, “you tell me, my dear Sophy, to give you some information respecting the inhabitants of Whidáh. I am myself unable to speak very decisively, but I am assured by those who have visited other parts of Africa, that those of Whidáh exceed the other negroes in civilization, and they certainly appear to me, both industrious and ingenious. The women, I can assure you, are very important personages, truly help-meets to their lords. They brew the beer, dress the food, sell all sorts of articles, (except slaves!) at the markets; they are also, I am sorry to add, employed in tilling the land with the slaves. But, Sophy, this may be accounted for: the light of Christianity has not yet beamed upon this land. Its humanizing spirit we have, you know, often remarked, as peculiarly favourable to the weaker sex; and were Africa free, and blessed with the genial ray of true religion, doubtless her women would acquire that consideration which is their due, and be regarded as what they ought to be, as the companions and solace, not the slaves of man. In reference to their ingenuity, I have many specimens. They spin cotton yarn, weave fine cotton cloth, make calabashes, wooden vessels, plates, dishes, &c. I have now lying before me, a present from a great man, a pipe for smoking, which is remarkably neat. It is formed of clay of a reddish hue, the stem a reed about six feet in length. It is beautifully and finely polished, perfectly smooth, white, and even elegant. The bowl and stem are fastened together with a piece of delicate red leather. It has also a fine leather tassel, attached to about the middle of the stem; and so neat is the work, that although the end of the reed goes into the bowl of the pipe, it appears as if formed of one piece. They clean the reed, when filled up with the smoke, by drawing long straws through it, and the bowls, by scraping them with a small sharp instrument.

“Last week we had quite a gala day, one of the country chiefs paying a visit to the governor at the fort. He was saluted with five guns on his landing: I was much pleased that my duty obliged me to go to the fort at the time.

“The ostensible motive of his visit, was respect to the governor; but the real one, to solicit powder and ball, in order to defend himself against the attacks of a neighbouring chief. He assumes the title of emperor, and is a fine model of negro beauty, young, extremely black, tall, and free in his carriage, with teeth which rivalled pearls in beauty. His dress consisted of short yellow cotton trowsers, reaching only to the knees; and a sort of mantle of the same material, flowing full like a surplice. His feet and legs were naked; but he wore a very large cap, with a white goat’s tail fastened in it: I suppose, the insignia of his dignity.

“All the officers of the fort were in full uniform, waiting to receive this chieftain; and, I assure you, it was a very gratifying sight to observe the expecting numbers ready to welcome him.

“He and his retinue came in a large and splendid canoe, containing about sixteen persons, all armed with guns and sabres, with a number of drums, upon which they beat with one stick. Two or three women were of the party, and danced to the sound of the drums. They remained at the fort all night, highly pleased with the visit, and the success of it; not only receiving what they solicited, but an ample present of rum, beads, bugles, and looking-glasses, from the governor, by which he quite won the hearts of the emperor and his suite.

“The natives are, indeed, generally good-natured and obliging, particularly to Europeans; and if the latter are liberal in presents, they seldom find the obligation forgotten. If a favour is asked of them, they will use their utmost efforts to comply, even to their own prejudice. Gentle measures are, indeed, the only means to succeed with them: they then seem to have pleasure in compliance; but if treated with violence, they are obstinate and refractory, and they will take as much pains to injure, as, in the other case, to serve. This, you will say, sufficiently proves their native generosity of disposition. Can such a people require any thing but freedom, and a pure faith, to render them equal to the European, who despises them, and denies that they possess a capability of enjoying freedom? I grant this, my dear advocate; and, did time allow me, could relate many instances to prove that your opinion is just.

“In my last, I mentioned the employment of the women partly consisted in weaving fine cotton cloths. We frequently barter these with our commodities. The pieces are generally twenty-seven yards long, but never more than nine inches wide. They cut them what length they require, and sew them together very neatly, to serve the use of broader cloths. The cotton is cleared from the seed by hand, and is spun with a spindle and distaff: it is afterwards woven in a loom of very simple and coarse workmanship. These cloths are made up into pairs, one about three yards long, and one and a half broad; with this the shoulders and body are covered. The other is almost of the same breadth, and but two yards long: this is gathered neatly in folds round the waist, and falls loosely over the limbs. Such a pair of cloths is the dress of men and women, with a slight variation in the mode of adjustment. I have seen a pair of such cloths, so beautifully fine in texture, and so brightly dyed, as to be very valuable. Their usual colours are either blue or yellow, some very lively: I do not remember, however, ever to have seen any red. (Note D.)

“I shall conclude this letter by an account of my visit to Sabi, as I promised you. With European ideas of the state of society and commerce in Africa, I confess, the surprise I experienced was very great, on my entrance into the market of this capital of Whidáh, which is kept twice in a week. Great regulation is observed in the keeping of these markets, a distinct and proper place being assigned for every different commodity; and the confluence of people, although great, are preserved from disorder and confusion, by a judge or magistrate, appointed by the king; and who, with four assistants, well armed, inspects the markets, hears all complaints, and, in a summary way, decides all differences among the buyers and sellers, having power to seize, and sell as slaves, all who violate the peace. Besides this magistrate, there is another, whose peculiar office it is to inspect the money, which is called toqua, consisting of strings of shells, to the number of forty; and if one of these strings happens to be deficient in a single shell, the whole are forfeited to the king. Round the markets are erected booths, which are occupied by cooks or suttlers, who sell provisions ready dressed, as beef, pork, goats’-flesh; and others, in which may be obtained rice, millet, marre, and bread; and others where they sell spirituous liquors, palm and ciboa wine, and pito, which is a sort of beer. The chief commodities on sale, are slaves, cattle, and fowls of every kind, monkeys and other animals; various sorts of European cloth, linen, and woollen; printed calicoes, silk, grocery, and china; gold in dust and bars, iron in bars or wrought.

“The country manufactures are Whidáh cloths, mats, baskets, jars, calabashes of various sorts, wooden bowls and cups, red and blue pepper, salt, palm-oil, &c. All these commodities, except slaves, are sold by the women, who are excellent accountants, and set off their goods most judiciously. The men are also good accountants, reckoning every thing by the head; and are as exact as the Europeans are with pen and ink, although the sums are often so many and so considerable, as to render it very intricate.

“The slaves are paid for in gold-dust, but other payments are made in strings of cowries, which, as I have said, contain forty in a string. Five of the strings make what the natives call a fore; and fifty fores make an alkove, which generally weighs about sixty pounds.

The various commodities of these markets, and the order and regularity with which they are disposed, would be a peculiarly pleasing sight to a stranger, were not human beings included in the articles of commerce; but, to behold a number of men, women, and children, linked together, and ranged like beasts to view, is a sight truly shocking to behold; and I will acknowledge, Sophy, I felt a sickness come over my heart, and a glow of shame suffuse my forehead, as I contemplated upwards of sixty individuals, whom a few short hours, perhaps, might separate, for ever, from their kindred and their country. There is, however, little chance that it will now ever be otherwise; for the worst passions of men are engaged, and the despotism of the African kings gives them ample opportunity to gratify their cupidity and intemperance, by the barter of their unhappy subjects1. The revenues of the king of Whidáh are very considerable; for he not only has large landed possessions, but he receives a duty on all commodities sold in the markets, or imported into the country. His lands furnish him with provisions for his numerous household, as well as for exportation; great quantities being annually sold to the neighbouring nations, less bountifully supplied by nature. The revenues arising from the slave-trade are very considerable, and induce him to favour it, by the strongest principle in the soul of man, selfishness; for he receives three rix dollars for every slave sold in his dominions. Every European vessel also pays him a pecuniary duty, exclusive of presents, which they make to conciliate his favour, and to secure his protection in trading.

Some years, slaves to the number of two thousand are brought from the interior, by the native merchants, most of whom, they say, are prisoners of war. These merchants purchase them from the different princes, who have made captives of them. Their mode of travelling is by tying them by the neck with leather thongs, at about a yard distant from each other, thirty and forty in a string; having generally a large truss or bundle of corn, or an elephant’s tooth, upon the head of each or many of them. In their way from the mountains, far in the interior, they have to travel through vast woods, where, for several days, perhaps, no water is to be procured. To obviate this distressing scarcity, they carry water in skins. There are a great number of these merchants, who, furnishing themselves with European goods from the slave-factors, penetrate the inland countries, and with them purchase, in their route, gold, slaves, and elephants’ teeth. (Note E.)

“They use asses as well as slaves to convey their goods, but no camels nor horses. Besides the slaves brought down to the factories by these merchants, many others are bought in the vicinity. These are either taken in war, as the former, or are men condemned for crimes; and, not unfrequently, they are stolen. These the Company never purchase, if able to ascertain the fact. It is worthy of remark, that, since the great demand for slaves, most punishments are changed into slavery; and there being an accruing advantage on such condemnations, they exaggerate faults scarcely more than venial, into crimes, in order to obtain the benefit of selling the criminal. Not only murder and the grosser crimes are punished in this manner, but every trifling misdemeanour renders the culprit obnoxious to the same dreadful penalty. It was not many days since that I had a man brought to me to be sold, for having stolen a tobacco pipe; and I had infinite trouble to persuade the aggrieved party to accept of a compensation, and to leave the man free.

“From what I have seen of the people, they are well disposed and cheerful, excessively fond of dancing, keeping it up to the sound of a drum or a balafeu, for many hours, without any appearance of weariness. Their dances are sometimes pleasing and regular, but at others wild, and apparently confused. The instrument they call a balafeu is very pleasing, sounding something like an organ, when not too near. It is composed of about twenty pipes of very hard wood, finely polished: these pipes gradually diminish, both in size and length, and are tied together with thongs made of very fine thin leather. These thongs are twisted round small round wands, which are placed between each of the pipes, in order to leave a short space. Underneath the pipes are fastened twelve or fourteen calabashes, of different sizes, which have the same effect of sound as organ-pipes. This they play upon with two sticks, covered with a thin skin, taken from the trunk of the ciboa, or with fine leather, in order to soften the sound. (Note F.) Both sexes delight to dance to this instrument, and their pleasure seems to rise almost to ecstasy, if a white man will unite in the dance; which, you will readily suppose, I am never unwilling to do. The only indication of suspicion they show, is when asked to take any beverage with a white man, always requiring the liquor to be first tasted by the inviter.

“Many of the natives have invited me to their habitations and dancing parties, and brought their wives and daughters to salute me. They, with great artlessness, generally sit down by me, and are never weary in admiring the different articles of my dress; making their comments one to another, with the most lively admiration and astonishment. Some, who had never seen a white man, ran away from me, apparently terrified at my monstrous appearance.

“In their persons they are of a good height, well shaped, and extremely black; and, as an instance of the female subjection, I am told, that, when a man has been absent from home, even but for a short time, his wife salutes him upon her knees at his return, and, in the same attitude, offers him water and refreshments. Both sexes are exceedingly cleanly in their persons, washing themselves in pure water twice in the day, and using aromatic unguents. Their dress consists of the country cotton cloths I have named; the superior classes add a short garment, made of taffety, or other silk, and scarfs of the same material passed over the shoulder. They generally go with the head and feet uncovered, but occasionally wear sandals, and caps or bonnets. The superior females wear calico paans, or a sort of petticoat, which are very fine, and beautifully variegated with different colours: these are confined round the waist, and the upper part of the body is covered with a cloth, serving also as a veil.

“They wear necklaces of coral, &c. agreeably disposed; and their arms, wrists, fingers, and legs, are encompassed and ornamented with rings of amber, silver, and even gold, to a considerable value. The inferior ranks wear copper or iron. The men suffer the hair to remain in its natural form, except buckling it in two or three places, in order to affix a coral ornament to it; but the women arrange theirs more artificially, with long and small buckles, or ornaments, the hair divided on the crown of the head, and the ornaments placed with great uniformity. They have a bad practice of using an oil, which injures the glossy blackness of the hair, in time changing it to a colour approaching green or yellow, which they much admire; but it is very unpleasing to the eye of a stranger.

“I have mentioned that the natives of Whidáh are idolaters. The object of their worship, you will be surprised to find, is a serpent; an animal to which men, in general, have an antipathy This Whidáh god is called the fetiche: it is a harmless, as well as beautiful animal, having an antipathy to venomous serpents, attacking them whenever it meets with them. The serpent has a large, round, beautiful head; a short, pointed tongue, resembling a dart; and a short but sharp tail; the whole adorned by the most beautiful colours, upon a light grey ground. In general its pace is slow and solemn, except when it seizes on its prey, in which case it is quick and rapid. They are perfectly tame and familiar, permitting themselves to be caressed and handled, which is frequently done by the natives and Europeans, without apprehension of danger. This deity has a temple to his honour, with priests, sacrifices, &c.”

With this account we will close our extracts from Irving’s letters; and as they will give some idea of the people of the country which forms the principal scene of our narrative, it is hoped the digression will not be thought irrelevant. In the next chapter we resume the thread of our story, merely pausing to express our ardent hope, that good may spring out of evil; that even the slave-trade may be the medium of promulgating the gospel of peace; and that good may, in God’s own time, overcome evil.

O, ’tis a godlike privilege to save,

And he that scorns it is himself a slave.

Inform his mind, one flash of heav’nly day

Would heal his heart, and melt his chains away:

“Beauty for ashes,” is a gift indeed;

And slaves by truth enlarg’d are doubly freed.

Cowper.

1 It is necessary to apprize our readers, that the remarks and descriptions contained in this volume, apply to Africa as it was some years since.

Chapter III.

“O Slavery——

Profuse of woes, and pregnant with distress,

Eternal horrors in thy presence reign;

Pale meagre famine leads thy horrid train;

To each dire load subjection adds more weight,

And pain is doubled in the captive’s fate:

O’er nature’s smiling face thou spreadst a gloom,

And to the grave dost every pleasure doom.”

Years had elapsed since Irving had indited the letters from which we have extracted, and every passing one had seen an increasing tendency to suffer humanity to yield to interest: what had been the practice of official duty, became the actuating principle, and gold, the

”Insidious bane that makes destruction smooth,

The foe to virtue, liberty, and truth,”

absorbed the better feelings, which had at first recoiled from the scenes of cruelty and oppression he had witnessed; and he could calmly execute the one and the other, and be at no loss to justify (at least to himself) the acts, and even reason upon the trade of human beings; if not, indeed, upon its humanity and justice, at least upon its expedience; forgetful of that great and comprehensive, but most simple maxim: “Do unto others as ye would they should do unto you.”

The order he had received from his employers, arrived at an opportune period; for he had, on that very day, been invited to attend the ceremony of the coronation of the king of Whidáh, to take place in a few days, at Sabi. With the true spirit of gain, he calculated that this event might, by a little judicious policy, be rendered, not only subservient to his present pressing demand for slaves, but also might open greater facilities than he had hitherto possessed, of obtaining a choice. Interest, therefore, united with curiosity, in his determination of attending the ceremony; a few preliminaries of which we will name, ere we accompany him to it.

On the demise of a king of Whidáh, the crown descends to his eldest son, unless the grandees have any substantial reasons to reject his claim; in which case the youngest son is appointed, provided he was born after the accession of the father. It is a singular custom, that, as soon as the eldest son of a king of Whidáh is born, he is removed from the palace and court, and placed under the care of a person in private, residing remote from the latter. With this person he remains, in profound ignorance of his birth, and of the high responsibilities for which he is designed. His protector is acquainted with the secret of his royal birth, but would incur the penalty of death were he to divulge it. By this custom it not unfrequently occurs, that when a prince is called to the throne, he may, at the moment, be employed in the most common and menial offices; and it is with difficulty he can be persuaded to believe those who inform him of his elevated rank, or in what manner to receive their servile homage; as it is customary for the subjects to approach the sovereign in the most humiliating form, advancing towards them in a creeping manner, to a certain distance, till the monarch, clapping his hands softly, indicates his permission for them to speak, which they then do, in a low tone, with their heads nearly to the ground. They retire, with the same slavish ceremonials, from the royal presence.

As soon as the old king is dead, his successor is brought to the palace; but the period of his coronation is uncertain, resting with the grandees, with whom it becomes a political manœuvre to keep the government, as long as possible, in their own hands; and they accordingly fix the period of the ceremony as best suits their respective interests. It is generally put off some months, and, sometimes, even years, but cannot be delayed beyond seven years. During this interval, the government is rather in the power of the grandees than the king; for they execute all the public acts and business, without consulting him. In every other respect he is treated as a prince, with only one restriction, viz. that, previously to his coronation, he cannot quit the palace.

It may readily be imagined by our young readers, that, from the obscure state in which the young monarch is brought up, he has little notion of those qualities which are necessary to govern a people. On the contrary, the sudden transition from this obscurity, to the paths of ease and pleasure, and every facility of self-gratification, unfortunately gives a peculiar relish for those pursuits and pleasures, with which, had he become guardedly and progressively familiar, in all probability he would have been satiated. But this not being the case, the king of Whidáh lives almost in a state of indolence; seldom going abroad, and only occasionally attending his grandees when they are assembled in the hall of audience, for the administration of justice: all the rest of his time is spent in the recesses of his seraglio, attended by his numerous wives, who are divided into three classes. When the period of the coronation has been fixed by the grandees, they give intimation of it to the king, who assembles them in the palace; and the council having deliberated on the measures to be used in executing the ceremony, notice of it is given to the public by a discharge of cannon, and the glad news is soon circulated throughout the kingdom.

The following morning, the grand sacrificer goes to the king, demanding, in the name of the great serpent, (their deity!) the offerings due on such a solemn and joyful occasion. These offerings consist of an ox, a horse, a sheep, and a fowl, which are sacrificed in the palace, and afterwards taken to the market-place. In the centre of this, the grand sacrificer erects a pole, nine or ten feet high, with a piece of linen attached to it like a flag, and around it are placed the victims, with small loaves of millet, rubbed over with palm-oil. After a few trifling ceremonies the company retire, leaving the victims exposed to the birds of prey; no person being permitted to touch them, upon pain of death. Arrived at the palace, about twenty of the king’s wives walk in procession to the place of sacrifice, the eldest, or chief, (Note G.) bearing a figure formed of earth, representing a child in a sitting posture: this she places at a short distance from the victims. These women are attended by a party of fusileers, and the king’s flutes and drums, the people prostrating themselves as they pass, and expressing their joy by the loudest acclamations. When these ceremonies are over, the grandees repair to the palace, dressed in their richest apparel, and attended by their numerous slaves, of whom they are very proud, adorning them with a profusion of trinkets, and ornaments of silver and gold. The king is not visible on this occasion; but they enter, and prostrate themselves before the throne, and again retire. This part of the ceremony continues fifteen days, during which the women make the palace re-echo with their acclamations; and the public joy is testified by the firing of cannon, and the almost continual display of rockets, from all parts of the capital.

It was during the interval of these rejoicings, that Irving, with his attendants, arrived at Sabi, and was appointed to take up his quarters with a grandee high in favour with the new king. He had taken care to provide himself with an ample assortment of trinkets, spirits, cutlery, and other European produce he knew to be tempting to his inviter and his royal master, with whom he proposed to trade, immediately after the ceremony was concluded.

Soon after his arrival, the grandee with whom he resided was summoned, (as was customary,) as the one deputed to go to the neighbouring kingdom of Ardrah, with a magnificent retinue, in order to request one of the nobles of that kingdom (in whose family the right had existed time immemorial) to proceed to Sabi, to crown the king; and Irving, desirous of seeing the whole of the ceremonial, obtained ready permission to accompany the embassy. The greatest respect is paid, by all ranks, to this officiating nobleman; and all the expences of his journey are defrayed by the grandees of Whidáh.

When arrived at the last village next the capital, this nobleman and his retinue suspended their progress, remaining there stationary three or four days; during which time he received visits from the principal people of the kingdom, with whom it is customary to make him valuable presents, and contribute to his amusement by a variety of entertainments; the king supplying him with a great quantity of provision, carried twice a day in great pomp, by his wives, preceded by a guard of fusileers and a band of music.

Among these ladies, Irving saw many whom, as a slave-merchant, he would have been happy to have obtained at a high price. Four days being elapsed, the grandees, with their usual train, and a great concourse of people, repaired to the village, to conduct the Ardrah nobleman, in great state, to Sabi; where he was received by a salute of the king’s guns, and the loud and continued acclamations of the multitude. He was then conducted to the apartments prepared for him near the palace, where he was splendidly entertained by the grandees, and received visits from the principal officers of the court. He continued here five days, but, at the close of the third, he entered the palace with the chief of his train, without taking off any part of his dress or ornaments. He remained standing, also, when he spoke to the king, while all others prostrated themselves, as usual.

On the evening of the fifth day, nine guns were fired, at the palace, to announce to the people that the king would be crowned on the following day, and that he would show himself in public, seated on his throne, in the court of the palace, the gates of which would be left open for the admission of all ranks of people. It was with the utmost astonishment that Irving beheld the immense population assembled in the streets of Sabi, on this occasion; every avenue towards the palace being completely crowded by the natives, to obtain a sight of their new monarch.

On the evening of the following day, the king came forth from his seraglio, attended by forty of his favourite wives, dressed in the most sumptuous manner; being rather loaded than ornamented, with gold necklaces, laces, pendants, bracelets, foot-chains of gold and silver, and the richest gems. The king, who was a good-looking, but, apparently, very indolent young man, was magnificently dressed, wearing a gilt helmet, decorated with red and white feathers. He was attended by his guards, and proceeded from his seraglio to the throne, which was placed in an angle of the court, to the east of the palace, and styled the court of the coronation.

The throne itself was something like a large armed chair, finely gilt, and elevated a little above the ground; the negroes choosing very low seats, not more than ten inches high, and six in diameter, and not unfrequently in the shape of an hour-glass. The most valuable and curious part of the throne we are now describing, was the seat, consisting of an entire lump of gold; not cast or formed by art, but a product of nature alone, weighing thirty pounds. It had been bored and fitted as a seat to the royal throne: upon this was a velvet cushion, richly laced and fringed with gold, and a foot-cushion to correspond. On the left were ranged the forty wives of the monarch, and on the right the principal grandees; and in a line with them, the Europeans from the English factories; therefore, Irving had a complete view of every part of the ceremonial. One of the grandees held in his hand an umbrella: this, however, was more for ornament than use, as the ceremony took place at night. It was formed of the richest cloth of gold, the lining embroidered with the same precious material, and the fringes and tassels the same. On the top of it was the figure of a cock, as large as the life. The pole of this pavilion, or umbrella, was six feet long, richly embossed and gilded. Another grandee kneeled before the king, constantly fanning him during the ceremony. Opposite to the monarch stood two of his dwarfs, who represented to him the good qualities of his predecessor; extolling his justice, liberality, and clemency, and exhorting the king not only to imitate, but to excel him; concluding their harangue with wishes for the king’s happiness, and that his reign might be long and prosperous.

These ceremonies concluded, the grandee of Ardrah was summoned to attend. When arrived at the outer gate of the palace, the cannon were discharged, and the band began to play. He entered the court, surrounded with his attendants, and was guarded by them to a certain distance. He then advanced, singly, to the throne, saluting the king by courteously bowing the head, but not prostrating himself. He then addressed a short speech to the king, relative to the ceremony he was called to perform; and removing the helmet from his head, turned to the people, holding it in his hands. A signal was then made, and the music instantly ceased. A profound and most impressive silence ensued. The grandee of Ardrah, then, with a loud and distinct voice, repeated, three times, these words to the assembled multitude: “Here is your king: be loyal to him, and your prayers shall be heard by the king of Ardrah, my master.” After this he replaced the helmet on the head of the king, made a low reverence, and retired. The cannon and small-arms were instantly fired, the music again struck up, and the acclamations were renewed. The grandee of Ardrah, in the meantime, was reconducted, in great state, to his apartments; after which, the new-crowned king, attended by his wives, his guards, and the Europeans, returned to the seraglio, where the latter made their compliments to the king as he entered the gate; and, on the following day, the monarch sent, as usual, a rich present to the Ardrah grandee, previously to his return home, which he must immediately do, the law not permitting him to remain three days longer in the kingdom.

The rejoicings which followed the coronation lasted fifteen days, and the whole was closed with a grand procession to the temple of the great serpent. The grandee with whom Irving resided during the period of these ceremonies, was one of the principal officers of the palace, and possessed a disposition peculiarly open to the enticement of spirituous liquors, as well as dreadfully acted upon by the pernicious stimulus they gave to his passions. He also had such a propensity for their use, that Irving easily found, that, by supplying him well, he might render him subservient to his purposes; and, in fact, he very soon disclosed to the wily merchant, that he had in his possession a number of valuable slaves, intended for the service, or to purchase the favour of the young king. The appearance of this negro courtier was pleasing and imposing. He was, in person, tall and well shaped; his dress was that usual in the country, but the material fine, and the colour perfectly white: his cap was also white and small. He wore large gold earrings, which, together with the pure white of his light dress, contrasted well with the jet black of his polished skin. In disposition he was so cruel and vindictive, that when he received an affront, even in the most trifling instance, he scrupled not to sacrifice the aggressor by shooting him.

He possessed several wives, of whom he was very jealous, and whom he treated as slaves. He had also several brothers, to whom he seldom spoke, or even permitted them to enter his presence; but when he did grant them admission, they were obliged to take off their caps, prostrate themselves at his feet, and throw dust on their heads.

It may readily be imagined, that a disposition so cruel and arbitrary, would be stimulated almost to fury and madness by the powerful influence of ardent spirits; and the fact was, that his thirst for brandy was so insatiable, that, to procure it, he scrupled not to execute any act of oppression, cruelty, or treachery. He had even been known, in order to procure slaves, with which to purchase brandy, secretly to set fire to a village, and then send the ministers of his cruelty to seize the distracted people as they rushed from destruction, to bind and to send them to the European factories, or to the joncoes, (or black slave-merchants,) and sell them for brandy and rum; which he would continue to drink till expended, without any cessation but that forced upon him by stupefaction or sleep.

It would not be consistent with the plan of our tale, to make any remarks upon the probabilities of what this man might have been, had not the slave-trade existed; or what direction his cunning and arbitrary disposition might have taken; but we may venture to say, that he could not have had so extensive opportunities of oppression, nor could his cruelties have created such incalculable misery. “For it has been proved, on the most convincing evidence, that the demand for slaves has had the most fatal effect in exciting and developing every vice and every bad passion among these people; of perverting their rude institutions, and poisoning their domestic relations. It has been proved by evidence unquestionable, that, as we have asserted, the tyrant chiefs of Africa were daily induced to condemn, indiscriminately, whole families, for trivial or imaginary crimes, with the sole object of obtaining possession of the individuals composing those families, and exchanging them for bad powder and bad muskets; to station their soldiers in ambush, on the roads, with orders to rush on the unarmed traveller, and load him with chains; to attack, at night, villages sunk in repose, dragging into slavery men, women, and children, of an age suited to their purpose, and mercilessly butchering the aged and the infant. It has been proved, upon authority equally good, that famine, devastation, and continual warfare, undertaken for the sole purpose of taking prisoners, were the inevitable consequences of the slave ships’ presence on the coast; and that the Europeans not only were witnesses of this desolation, but furnished the arms, nourished the hatred, fomented the discord, and were the communicaters of the moral blast, which shed its pestilential influence over the population of a country, which, under the benign protection of a fair and legitimate commerce, is assuredly capable of being civilized, enlightened, and happy; and which, in return for the inestimable gifts of instruction and religion, would cheerfully and gratefully pour its riches into the bosoms of its benefactors. But, can the arts which embellish life, can the virtues which expand the heart, can the principles that elevate the soul, can these find rest, or even enter a region devoted to blood, oppression, and desolation? Alas! while the slave-trade exists, we are compelled to unite in the fear expressed by an enlightened patriot, that ‘there is no prospect of civilization or happiness for Africa.’”

Chapter IV.

“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?”

Chapter V.

* * * the band of commerce is design’d

T’ associate all the branches of mankind.

And if a boundless plenty be the robe,

Trade is the golden girdle of the globe:

This genial intercourse, and mutual aid,

Cheers, what were else, an universal shade.

Calls nature from her ivy-mantled den,

And softens human rock-work into men.

Cowper.

Most truly and impressively do these lines of our Christian poet describe the effects of legitimate and honourable commerce; the mutual exchange of the various gifts of an all-bounteous Providence, showered on the globe we inhabit, for the general use, benefit, and pleasure; and of those embellishments of art, which civilization has brought forth and nourished.

But no such effect can ever flow from the piratical commerce of men, that deformed and cruel offspring of Mammon, which riots in the blood, and glories in the miseries of man.

It may be urged, we are not the original agents in this trade: it is pursued with eagerness by the Africans themselves. But are those who live in that transcendent light which was granted to dispel the mists of error—to meliorate propensity to evil—to harmonize the rational soul—still to delight in works so dark, still to trample under foot every principle of humanity; still to spurn from them the obligations of justice, still to set at naught the precepts of religion; and to make themselves accomplices with pagan oppressors, in tyrannizing over those hapless beings, whom a mysterious Providence has subjected to their power? Is the Christian trader content to put himself upon a level with the unenlightened despot, and coolly to put his blood-stained profits in the balance, against the laws of religion and his country; laughing at the remonstrances of philanthropists, as the dreams of enthusiasm, or as puerile objections unworthy of attention? No; it surely will not be thus. England has entered the path of mercy1, let her pursue it with energy and constancy: and if other nations refuse to follow her heaven-enlightened way, to them belongs the shame and the guilt of trampling down the laws which bind man to his God and his fellow-man; and, for the violation of which, every individual must be accountable, at that tremendous audit, before which the oppressed and the oppressor shall alike appear!

But to return to our narrative from these reflections, which the seriousness of the subject forced from us, and which must apologize for them with our young readers.

The time being fixed for Irving to have an audience with the king, he was conducted to the palace, which was a spacious edifice, consisting of many large courts, entirely surrounded with porticoes, above which were apartments with small windows. These apartments, as well as every part of the palace, exhibited great magnificence in the furniture and decorations. Some of the floors were covered with exquisitely fine matting, and others with superb Turkey carpets; and the furniture consisted of chairs, sofas or divans, skreens, chests, cabinets and porcelain imported from China. The windows were not glazed, but were shaded with frames of fine white linen, and taffety curtains. The gardens of this superb palace were very extensive, laid out in long vistas of lofty and beautiful trees; affording a deliciously cool and shaded retreat, for the women immured in the splendid prison. It was evident to Irving, as he passed some of these apartments to the hall of audience, that his African majesty intended to receive him in great state; but whether out of respect to him, as a European and a slave and spirit merchant, or to display his own magnificence, he could not determine: nor was it of much consequence, although he well knew that the Europeans in general are well received, and are allowed to dispense with the humiliating ceremonies they scrupulously exact from their own subjects; and, unlike them, are granted an audience whenever they desire it. When Irving, therefore, entered the hall where the king was seated to receive him, his majesty immediately rose, and advanced some steps to him; took him by the hand, pressed it in his own, and three times successively touched his fore finger, which was the greatest token of amity and affection. After this, he desired him to sit down by his side, upon fine mats spread on the floor; which Irving having complied with, he displayed his presents to his majesty, who was astonished to find he could, with ease, converse with him without the aid of an interpreter.

Irving could not but feel gratified at the extreme although childish pleasure the young monarch evinced, in receiving the presents; which consisted of an elegant case of English spirits, some beautiful guns, a superb sword, and a great variety of trinkets for the ladies of the seraglio. The king offered to sell him some of his discarded wives; but Irving respectfully declined the offer of the ladies, as not very well calculated for the labours of the colonies.

In the audience chamber were two benches, one of which was broader than the other, covered with an embroidered cloth, and by it was an oval stool; upon this the monarch seated himself, after having received and examined the presents. The other bench was covered with mats, on which Irving was directed to sit, as the usual seat of the Europeans during conferences. Irving was uncovered; not, however, by order, but from a voluntary desire of showing proper respect; for he had not forgot the early lesson, “honour the king,” though as a slave-dealer, it may be, alas! inferred, that he had little recollection of the context, “fear God.” He made himself so agreeable, however, to the king, that he was invited to dine with him, and the meal was served with great elegance. While they were feasting, the grandees prostrated themselves before their sovereign; and what provisions were left were given to them, which they appeared readily and cheerfully to accept. Irving had, during this long interview, an ample opportunity of observing the person, the dress, and the manners of the new king of Whidáh; and, in some degree, to form a judgment of his character. His dress was superb, composed of silk and gold, with strings of beautiful coral round his neck, arms, and wrists. In person he was tall, well shaped, with remarkably smooth and polished skin. His manners were free, urbane, and familiar; but there was discovered a disposition to covetousness, and the usual propensity to inebriety. Nor was it difficult to discover that he was indolent and pusillanimous, the usual companions of luxury and dissipation. In fact, the faults of the king seemed those of his education; and his virtues, those of his nature, which required only civilization, good examples, and a pure faith, to nourish into fruitfulness.

The audience chamber in which Irving was received, was hung with tapestry. At the upper part of the room was a throne, formed of ivory; it was ascended by three steps, and shaded by a canopy of the richest silk. This is used on great state occasions.

The king readily granted permission to Irving, to view the palace, excepting, of course, the apartments of the women. Conducted by his friend the grandee, and some other officers of the palace, he found it more extensive than he had supposed, having entered by a private passage. It consisted of several large squares, surrounded with galleries, each of which had a portico or gate, guarded by soldiers. The first gallery on entering the palace is very long, supported on each side by lofty pillars. At the termination of this gallery was a wall with three gates, the centre one ornamented with a turret seventy feet in height; terminated with a figure of a large snake, cast in copper, and very ingeniously carved. These gates opened into an immense area, enclosed also with a wall; then another gallery like the former, into another spacious court; and so on to a fourth, beyond which were the apartments of the king. In this spacious palace the king is sometimes immured for years, until he is crowned; and here, also, many wealthy courtiers spend the whole of their time, leaving trade and agriculture to be executed by their wives and slaves. (Note K.) These go to the circumjacent villages, either to trade in merchandise, or serve for daily wages; but they are obliged to bring the greatest part of what they obtain to their masters, otherwise they make no scruple to sell them for slaves.

Irving and his new royal acquaintance had passed their time so convivially, that the negociation for slaves was deferred till the morrow, when he again attended his majesty to a depôt, containing about two hundred; and as they were going to this place, they met nearly as many proceeding to the coast, the king’s agents having sold them on the preceding day. Amongst this wretched group, Irving remarked some remarkably handsome men; and found, on enquiry, they were from Molembo, from whence the finest negroes are obtained.

The number he was invited to examine, consisted of men, women, and children; and, to any but a slave-dealer, the sight was heart-rending. Fathers overwhelmed in silent sorrow; mothers expressing their anguish in affecting lamentations, audible sighs, or deep groans, expecting every moment to be separated from their tender offspring, whom they clasped to their bosoms, or endeavoured to hide under the folds of their pacans; youthful females shrinking from the brutal gaze of the trader, and dreading nameless indignities; the fiery eye of many a youth, indignant at the bonds which confined him from levelling to the ground the wretches who bought and sold him as a beast of the field, and tore him from the object of his love, whom he was powerless to save from death and bondage. But such a scene was of too frequent occurrence, the cry of the innocent was too familiar, to make any impression upon those who were bargaining. Irving purchased many of them; and having seen them marked as his property, (Note L.) left his people to conduct them to Whidáh; whither, after having taken a cordial leave of the king, and so far conciliated him and the grandee as to ensure future advantages, he himself, with his attendants and the female slave, returned that evening.

Canst thou, and honoured with a Christian name,

Buy what is woman-born and feel no shame?

Trade in the blood of innocence, and plead

Expedience as a warrant for the deed?

Perish the thought!

1 The slave-trade was abolished in 1807.

Chapter VI.

“And if perchance a momentary sigh,

For such a lot reflection may supply,

He follows not the feeling to its source.”

Barton (adapted.)

“If ever thou hast felt another’s pain,

If ever when he sigh’d hast sigh’d again;

If ever on thine eyelid stood the tear,

That pity hath engender’d—drop one here:

This man was happy.”

It will naturally be supposed, from the eagerness of Irving to make good the purchase of Imihie and her poor boy, that his heart was deeply interested by their situation, and that he had it certainly in his power to ameliorate it. But, alas! if, for a moment, the chord of compassion was touched, the feeling was transient, the impulse too weak to prompt to action; and, so far from being strengthened by the night’s reflections, they, on the contrary, did but lead to lament his own folly, in making himself liable to the loss he would probably sustain by the high price he had given; as it was a condition of his engagement with the Company, that he was to be individually accountable for all losses incurred by the purchase of unprofitable slaves. These anticipations of pecuniary injury, were confirmed by the appearance of his poor captive on her arrival at the depôt at Whidáh. A fixed melancholy seemed to have absorbed every faculty, rendering her insensible even to the playful caresses of her boy, in whose sparkling eye, health “seemed a cherub yet divinely bright;” so happily unconscious was he of the bitterness of his lot, and the sufferings of his mother. Finding, from his people, that she resolutely rejected sustenance, Irving himself endeavoured to persuade her, but without success; but when self-interest, aided by the dictates of conscience and compassion, induced him to resort to the usual mode of forcing it, (nor will we question it was a painful task to him,) his heart must have been of adamant, not to have felt the powerful appeal of wretchedness and despair, when, while in the execution of this cruel duty, the poor captive looked up in his face, and, with a mournful smile, said: “Presently I shall be no more.” (Note M.) Irving, indeed, from her appearance, began to think so; and as he could not now remedy her situation, nor restore her to what she had lost, he considered his best plan was to consign her, as soon as possible, to the ship waiting to receive the collected slaves, congratulating himself on his humanity, in having prevented the mother and child from being separated, even if he should thereby sustain some loss. He determined, also, to do all he could to ensure her some attention during the passage; and, with this view, determined to go immediately on board, to see the accommodation, and to give some particular instructions to the captain; leaving orders that Imihie should be conducted to the ship as soon as the day began to close.

The ship destined to convey these miserable beings to the West Indies, had already on board between four and five hundred negroes. The captain boasted much of the superior accommodation of his vessel for the trade; and, to confirm his assertion, entreated Irving to visit the slave-rooms. Willing to conciliate any who might promote his interest, Irving consented. The superior accommodation he found, was, that every slave, whatever his size, had five feet six inches in length, and sixteen inches in breadth, to lie upon! The floor was crowded with bodies, stowed or packed according to this allowance. But between the floor and deck, or ceiling, were platforms or broad shelves, in the mid-way, which were also covered with bodies. (Note N.) The men were shackled two and two, each by one leg, to a small iron bar; these, the captain with much self-complacence said, were every day brought upon deck for the air; but lest they should attempt to recover their freedom, they were made fast by ring-bolts to the deck, or by two common chains, which were extended on each side the main deck; but the women and children, he added, were suffered to remain loose. Few slaves fared so well as his, he continued, for he allowed each a pint of water a day, and yams and horse-beans twice a day; and afterwards, for exercise and health, they jumped in their irons, which, if they refused to do, he was obliged, certainly, to flog them, as it was his duty to preserve them in health, if possible. Irving, however, learnt, in the course of this man’s conversation, that it was usual for these miserable beings to remain fifteen or sixteen hours below deck, out of the twenty-four; and that, in wet weather, they could not be brought up for two or three successive days: their situation was, he acknowledged, very distressing, but he could not remedy it. They would cling to the gratings for a little air; draw their breath with anxious and laborious efforts; fight with each other for a taste of water; and many died of suffocation. (Note O.)

Amongst the number thus confined in the hold of this ship, Irving remarked many whose nobleness of aspect indicated that there was a “spirit within,” which rose even above such calamity—a consciousness of moral dignity, that spurned at the cruelties of the oppressor; but there was one in particular, before the flame of whose eye even Irving shrunk abashed. He was evidently a person of consequence; high, it would seem, in military rank, inferred from certain personal indications, with the meaning of which Irving was acquainted; and also from some articles of dress, stated to have been taken from him when captured; and every look (action was denied him) indicated that he possessed a mind not insensible to the eminence of his station. Irving enquired from whence he was taken, and from whom purchased? He was told, from Molembo, it was thought; and that he had been only a few days purchased from the king of Whidáh, with a number of his countrymen, taken by treachery, and in defiance of a treaty subsisting at the time. This was all he could learn; and having given his instructions respecting Imihie, Irving returned to Whidáh before her arrival at the ship, being desirous to avoid another interview, the sight of her producing a painful emotion he could neither define nor account for.

Chapter VII.

“Soft airs, and gentle heavings of the wave,

Impel the fleet whose errand is to save!

But ah! what wish can prosper, or what pray’r,

For merchants rich in cargoes of despair.

The sable warrior, frantic with regret

Of her he loves, and never can forget,

Loses, in tears, the far-receding shore,

But not the thought that they must meet no more.”

Cowper.

Night shed her silent influence over the mighty deep; the firmament was bright with myriads of glittering worlds; the moon, in full and mild lustre, rode majestically, like a sphere of silver light, on the summit of fleecy clouds, and was reflected, in many a fantastic form, by the tossing waves, the gentle ripplings of which were mingled with the distant sound of “All is well,” borne on the gale from the fort, the regular tread of the watch on deck, and the boatswain’s shrill whistle. The rush of the shark, “cutting the briny deep,” as it instinctively followed the floating receptacle of misery, was the only sound that interrupted, painfully, the heavenly calmness of the scene and hour; a calmness, alas! little according with the soul-sickening agitations of the wretched beings, now silently borne from all held dear and precious, and on their way to all the horrors of a life in chains. Cargoes of despair they may truly be called!

Imagination, in its loftiest flight, must come short in attempting to embody in words, the smallest part of the aggregate of misery which exists on board a slave-ship; it will, therefore, not be attempted: one only being of the wretched number must appear a moment on our theatre of woe; he who had so forcibly arrested the attention of Irving, when visiting the slave-rooms.

Confined promiscuously with such a multitude of his wretched countrymen, the agony of his feelings is not to be described. With the form and visage of a man, he felt, indignantly felt, that his destiny was that of the beast of the field, and his soul seemed bursting from the frame that confined it. Wearied nature at length found a short cessation from the unutterable pangs of woe, in sleep—in consoling visions! He dreamt he was in his own beloved country, in the enjoyment of honour and command, caressed by his family, served by his wonted attendants, and surrounded with the comforts of his former life: his spicy groves exhaling sweets, his palm-tree’s refreshing shade, his rivers teeming riches, his domestic endearments, his war-like preparations, and his hard-earned triumphs, came in succession on his fancy. But the sweet delusions were too soon dispelled: he awoke, with a hurried start, to the sad, sad reality, that he was a slave in the midst of slaves. The rapid retrospect of former happiness with existing misery, rushed on his soul; and the dreadful reverse drew from his manly breast the most affecting lamentations. Every dear object of his regard flitted before his mental view; but, alas! there was no reality but misery—interminable bondage: there was no fond eye to behold, no persuasive tongue to soothe, no attentive ear to listen to his woe. Mingled with the meanest of his subjects, whom he had no power to relieve; subjected to the cruelty and insolence of wretches a thousand degrees lower in the scale of humanity and intellectual endowment, yet arrogating their superiority as Christians, and the proud distinctions of national advantages, his soul refused comfort, and he determined upon death. Little did he think this foe to nature was so near; little did he imagine the horrid form in which he would present himself; and that there might be circumstances which, at the moment of expiring nature, would make him cling to, and even give value to a life of perpetual bondage!

The vessel made considerable way during the night, and the morning rose, with glorious splendour and beneficent freshness, upon the world of waters; on the majestic bosom of which, floated such an accumulation of moral turpitude and excelling misery! The hour arrived when the slaves were to be brought on deck for air and exercise. The sable warrior anticipated it with a gloomy joy, as the most favourable opportunity of effecting his designed purpose of self-destruction; and when he found he was to be fastened to the deck, he violently resisted. This, however, did but provoke his oppressors to increased indignities. In the midst of this struggle, he became calm as a lamb, resistless as an infant. The sound of a female voice, singing a mournful African air, seemed to have bound him by a potent spell. (Note P.) His eyes appeared as if bursting from their orbits, his whole frame trembled; while the big tear rolled silently down his sable countenance, which assumed a mingled expression of doubt, hope, and agony. He at first directed his piercing eyes to the air, as if he thought the song proceeded from some hovering, viewless spirit. He again renewed his efforts to get free, and fixed his gaze intently on the remotest part of the ship, from whence the sound seemed to proceed, but nothing met his view: the song, however, still continued, only interrupted, at intervals, by deep sobs of anguish, and the scarcely-heard voice of infantine distress.

Rendered desperate by the confinement under such powerful emotions, he called loudly on the spirits of his fathers, to avenge him on the Christian tyrants; and while enduring, in consequence, the cruel scourging and insulting mockery of the barbarian crew, a piercing scream was heard, and the poor Imihie was seen rushing from an obscure place, (in which the captain had indulged her to remain,) with the infant Samboe clinging to her bosom. In a moment the names of Tumiáh! Imihie! were interchanged; and the exhausted Imihie, letting her child fall from her relaxing arms, threw herself upon the panting bosom of her enchained and manacled husband.

We invade not the feelings of that moment: language has nothing to do with them. The Being who formed the heart of man, can alone judge of its emotions.

The maternal affection was not, however, long absorbed in the conjugal; and the half frantic Imihie recollected, that Samboe was not enfolded with her in the arms of Tumiáh. She loosened herself with difficulty from his embrace, to restore her child to his wonted protection within her own; but, at the moment she arose for the purpose, a tumultuous cry resounded through the ship, of “fire! fire! Loosen the slaves! loosen the slaves!” The fire, however, spread with such violence, bursting from the spirit-room, that the sailors, apprehending that it was impossible to extinguish it before it would reach a large quantity of gunpowder on board, concluded it necessary to precipitate themselves into the sea, as offering the only chance of saving their lives.

However, they did first endeavour to loose the chains by which the slaves were fastened to the deck; but in the confusion the key could not be found, and they had but just time to loosen one of the fastenings, by wrenching the staple, before the vehemence of the fire so increased, that they simultaneously jumped overboard; when immediately, the fire having gained the powder, the vessel blew up, with every slave that was confined by the unloosened chain, and such others as had not possessed the power to follow the example of the sailors.

We hardly know whether to style it fortunate, that any circumstance should save these victims of avarice from a watery grave, after escaping that which, to the sense, seems more terrible. Providence, however, ordained that there should be some vessels in sight; which, putting out their boats, took up about two hundred and fifty of the poor souls that remained alive; but the most of them being those who had been fastened together with shackles, had, from the violence of the shock, and the confinement of the irons, experienced dreadful fractures of the limbs; which, inflamed by the struggles they had instinctively made, the heat, and the agitated state of the blood, quickly mortified, and ere they were scarcely sensible of their increase of calamity, released them, for ever, from all fear of it more. Among the number who thus yielded up his manly spirit, was Tumiáh, rejoicing in the belief that his Imihie and Samboe were also removed to a land of spirits—a land where no man-stealer can enter, no treachery gain access, no violence invade. He might have adopted the words of the poet:

“Now, Christian, glut thy ravish’d eyes;

I reach the joyful hour:

Let, let the scorching flames arise,

And these poor limbs devour.

“O Death, how welcome to th’ opprest!

Thy kind embrace I crave;

Thou bringst to Misery’s bosom rest,

And freedom to the slave!”

The fond belief, however, of the expiring Tumiáh, that his wife and child had escaped the horrors of bondage, was fallacious. Previously to the calamity, the feelings of the wretched Imihie had been wrought up nearly to their utmost height; the sight of the quick-advancing flames, therefore, was sufficient to augment them to frenzy, and with a strength which frenzy only could impart, to a frame exhausted by want of nourishment and continual grief, she snatched the infant Samboe from the deck, upon which he had fallen, and where, unheeded by one pitying eye, he remained, without uttering any cry or attempting to move; for, overcome by terror of the noise and brutality of the crew, the sight of the immense ocean, and the want of that nourishment which he in vain sought from the exhausted bosom of his wretched mother, the suffering child seemed unable to move, or even to utter any sound.

Imihie pressed him closely to her breast, turned a momentary and frenzied glance upon her enchained husband, and uttering a faint cry of terror, cast herself and precious burden into the foaming deep. But it was not decreed to become her tomb. Almost by miracle, she was thrown near a boat which had put off from a Spanish slave-vessel, and was picked up by the crew, with Samboe still closely entwined within her arms; without, however, exhibiting the smallest appearance of remaining life. But the vital spark was not yet extinct. She was immediately put on board the ship, and means of resuscitation used with both her and her child, as well as several other equally miserable victims of avarice. Heaven decreed these efforts to be effectual: and thus was the widowed mother transferred, by the sudden calamity, from one set of mercenaries to another, yet still doomed to slavery! The vessel had taken in her cargo at Rio Pongos, and was bound for the Havannah; but her stowage was too small to allow her, with impunity, to keep the increase occasioned by the casualty of the fire. She therefore put into a port, and disposed of them to a ship bound for Jamaica. This occasioned considerable delay; in consequence of which, when the transferred slaves were at length on their passage, they were subjected to all the evils of improper seasons; water failed, provisions became spoiled and scanty, and many of the slaves the victims of disease, ere they entered the magnificent harbour of Port Royal.

Arrived at Kingston, they were put in store, until notice should be given of sale, which was immediately done by advertisement: “On Tuesday next will be put up for sale, in their store, fifty superb negroes of the coast; to the purchasers of which will be afforded all the facilities wished.”

* * * “What man reading this,

And having human feelings, does not blush

And hang his head, to think himself a man?”

Chapter VIII.

“Authority usurp’d from God, not given.

He gave us over beast, fish, fowl,

Dominion absolute. That right we hold

By his donation: but men over men

He made not lord; such title to himself

Reserving, human left from human free.”

Milton.

Had Irving now seen the once attractive Imihie, and her playful boy, as he even beheld them in the slave-room of the African courtier, he would scarcely have given credit to any assurance that she was the same individual. She then, recently a captive, peculiarly displayed in her person the characteristic feminine traits of her country—perfect symmetry of proportion, and beautiful, in as far as it did not consist in colour. Modest, affable, and faithful, these sweet feminine qualities emanated from her softened eyes, and an air of winning innocence in every look and gesture; while every word was pronounced with an inflection of voice so sweet, so soft, so tender, that cold indeed must have been the heart that could withstand its eloquent appeal, or listen, unmoved, to its modulations. Such was the young Imihie. Now, alas! how changed! Emaciated for want of food, sinking with illness, shrinking from exposure; almost frenzied with the recollection of the past, the misery of the present, and the dread of the future; bearing, with difficulty, her infant, she was conducted, with her companions in misery, to the vendue, in the bare hope that she might be purchased for the sake of the boy; who, though suffering from the effects of the voyage and want of his natural nutriment, still evidently displayed great intelligence, and much natural vigour. The first day of exhibition passed, and no purchaser was found for the sulky negress, (for such is the feeling term applied to the desponding.)

On occasions like this, it is a common thing to speculate upon the purchase of what are termed the refuse negroes, or those left from the first day’s sale. Some are frequently in so weak and miserable a state, as even to be sold as low as for a dollar; some are taken to the mart almost in the agonies of death; and some are even known to draw their last sigh in the piazzas of the vendue master. It was on the second day’s sale that Imihie was purchased by a planter for a very low sum, and carried into the country, with some others, whom he intended to retail. The situation of these wretched captives was but little ameliorated, by becoming the property of this man, who was of that class of managers, who think that the safety of the family to which they are subservient, and the interest of the proprietor, renders severity indispensable, and oppression the only mode of subduing the refractory spirit of the African, whom they regard with the most sovereign contempt. With souls lost to all sense of compassion, they believe there can be but one mode of enforcing obedience, that of fear; and in the exercise of their delegated authority, they put in action, to the utmost, this ignoble stimulus, by every means which a spirit of cruelty and ignorance can suggest.

Short, indeed, would have been the existence of the miserable Imihie, had she continued the property of this semi-barbarian. Confined in a narrow and unwholesome hut, without a single comfort; a hurdle for a bed, which rather served to torture than to ease her pained and wearied limbs, with scarcely sufficient of a coarse linen to secure her frame from the scorching heats of the day, and the dangerous dews of night; in the midst of the richest bounties of nature, and the abundant luxuries of art, fed on salt beef and salt cod, and roots, with the injurious flour of the cassava, imperfectly prepared, and these in quantity scarcely sufficient to support existence; deprived of every enjoyment; condemned to perpetual labour, under the rod of an unfeeling master, there could be no chance of amendment of health, or of reconcilement to her destiny. But Providence ordained she should yet feel the happiness of sympathy. Her tyrant master, finding that her labour was very inadequate to the expences of retaining her, would have separated her from her child, and sold her for the smallest possible sum; but a neighbouring proprietor of a small plantation offered a satisfactory price for them together, and they were removed to a comparatively comfortable situation, in the hope that, with rest and better food, she might be enabled to become a house-slave to the wife of the purchaser.

It has been remarked, by observing travellers, that the women of the West Indies possess great natural kind feelings; but that the habitual view of oppression, and the free exercise of power over the slaves, renders them very insensible to the sufferings of the negro women, and totally regardless of promoting their happiness, or of studying to ameliorate their hard lot; and that the instances are by no means uncommon, in which they treat and have them punished with the utmost severity: that they can raise, to no gentle tone, their soft voices, and exert, with no little energy, their spiritless frames, when provoked by the awkwardness, or jealous of the influence of their sable captives. Ah! much to be lamented is that state of oppression on the one part, and debasement on the other, which can convert the expression of that distinguishing feature of beauty, of female beauty more especially, from that which indicates right feeling, to that which betrays a superiority the God of nature designed not. A woman’s eye should melt with tenderness, sparkle with innocent animation, weep with those that weep, and beam with the rays of joy at the happiness of another.

Such was the expression which shed its consolation on the desolated Imihie, upon the visit of her new mistress to her lowly hut. This amiable woman was young, but her mind had been early matured in the school of adversity: a hapless fate had fixed her residence in a remote part of Jamaica, but she had also learnt, from precepts which will never lead astray, “in whatsoever situation she was, therewith to be content.” From the same Master who had inspired this lesson of the apostle, she had also learnt the only cure for the rebellion of the mind; that force defeated its object; that it was the interest of those who possessed power over their fellow-beings, that they should be attached to life, for nothing could be expected from them, the moment that they no longer feared death. Guiding her conduct by this principle of enlightened reason, derived from a far higher source, the most genuine sentiments of humanity were in constant exercise, by a corresponding course of action. She could not, indeed, as an obscure and solitary individual, break or remove the yoke which oppressed her fellow-creatures; but she could render it easier to be borne, and could, sometimes, even for a time, dissipate the cruel sense of it, by promoting and favouring the natural tastes of her poor slaves. Their lodging, clothing, and food, were all attended to by persons she could depend upon, and regularly inspected by herself. Far from regarding the occupation degrading, she persevered in it as a commanding duty; and she reaped her high reward, by the grateful affection of her poor servants. By various simple methods, she roused from the apathy of despair, and awakened the sensibilities. Little festivals conducted with judgment, innocent recreations, and simple rewards, preserved her slaves from the continual melancholy, which had too just a foundation. She sympathized with mothers, and delighted to share with them the caresses of the children.

Her husband, although possessing not her intelligence and elevation of mind, nor actuated by the principle that directed the energies of his amiable wife, yet was induced, by her unostentatious usefulness, and evident success in her plans, to accede to most of the humane innovations she proposed to him; convinced, by her arguments, that it would be his interest to be humane. Hence, their plantation exhibited a picture of comfort seldom seen, and their slaves had every appearance of health. They were allowed wholesome provision in ample quantity, with as much fruit as they wished; they had the liberty of keeping poultry, and to cultivate a piece of ground with esculent roots; their huts were comfortable, and when sick they experienced the kindest attention; and they were frequently suffered to associate with each other in little parties, for recreation and amusement.

Such were the proprietors of the poor Imihie and her hapless boy, who soon began to find the benefit of kind treatment; and it is probable, had Providence ordained that it should have been enjoyed, immediately after landing on a foreign shore, that the miseries of the voyage, and even the horrors of bondage, might have been overcome by youth, and that wonderful buoyancy of the human mind, that seems to force itself above the swelling waves of misfortune. But the arrow had sunk too deep: its barb had been too powerfully poisoned, for human effort to withdraw, or to antidote it. Imihie was evidently the victim of that disease which hurries to an untimely grave, so many individuals of her hapless country; and which, throughout the world, may be termed, although not yet classed, a broken heart. The first symptom of this disorder among negroes, became evident; namely, the black and glossy skin assumed an olive hue, the tongue became white, and the poor sufferer became overpowered by such a desire to sleep, that it was found impossible to resist it, a deadly faintness preventing the smallest exercise. In fact, a languor and general relaxation of the whole wonderful machinery of the human frame, seems to threaten death day by day, yet the sufferer still survives. So great is the state of despondency accompanying this distressing malady, that those afflicted will suffer themselves to be beaten, rather than attempt to move or walk. Happy was it for Imihie that she had not a task-master’s whip to dread; and that the loathing which she had for mild and wholesome food, was not attributed to obstinacy, but to what it really was, a symptom of the disease which was insiduously undermining the vital principles of life. It made rapid advances upon her delicate and youthful frame: her respiration became laborious and painful, the extremities became swollen, and suffocation seemed frequently to impede the action of the heart. In this state she languished and suffered several months; but Imihie had her consolations, under an infliction, the natural consequence of melancholy upon the organs of the human frame.

We have said, that the humanity and enlightened reason of the excellent Mrs. Delany, were derived from a high source; even from that source which exalts feeling to a principle: the one is frequently as transient as the excitement, the other is founded upon a firm basis; offering a permanent and pure incentive to action, by adding a value to existence, as connecting it with a future. Such is one of the many blessed fruits of a Christian faith. Mrs. Delany felt its commanding power: she was a Christian in deed. Hers was not a speculative creed, but a practical code: it was her daily, hourly study to act upon.

It is true, Jamaica, at the period of our narrative, enjoyed not the high privileges it now possesses of Christian instruction, and of Christian example; but Mrs. Delaney was one amongst the few, who, feeling and enjoying the light and the consolation of religion, were anxious to impart a portion of what cheered their own hearts—of that which directed their steps, to those who yet “sat in darkness and the shadow of death.” Deeply interested in her hapless slave, from the moment she saw her, Mrs. Delaney had soothed, by truly maternal attention, her bodily sufferings, and her mental anguish. She inwardly deplored her total ignorance of that grand source of consolation, the knowledge of which was so open to those who despised it. She gently prepared the feelings and the understanding for the reception of that light, which she fervently prayed might be imparted to her benighted mind. She gradually led her docile steps, her mental view, to Him who invites the heavy laden to resort to him for rest; to seek Him who is the strength and the fortress of those that trust in him; to adore, with unfeigned humility, that transcendent mercy, which became poor that we might be rich. What heart is there, bereft of all earthly good, all earthly hope, but must expand with joy, to receive into its most inmost recesses the precious promises of Christianity?—of that mild and beneficent religion, which so tenderly sympathizes with every emotion of the weak, the frail, the lacerated bosom? Was it then surprising, that the poor Imihie, with feelings too powerful for utterance, hung upon the mild accents of Mrs. Delaney, as she described to her the sufferings of the Redeemer—the abyss of wretchedness from which he rescued mankind—the dreadful penalty from which he saved a rebellious world? Was it surprising, that, with an eager gratitude, which gave a heavenly expression to her languid eyes, and displayed itself in every varying feature, she listened to the glorious truths of revelation, unfolded in terms suited to her expanding capacity; and that, with all the simplicity of unsophisticated nature, receiving the noblest impressions of Deity, she bade Mrs. Delaney thank her great good God for his marvellous kindness to wretched captives, and for the unsearchable riches of his grace. Never was she wearied in hearing her kind instructress recount the sufferings of the incarnate God: tears, the offspring of genuine feeling, chased each other down her altered countenance, as Mrs. Delaney directed her imagination to the garden of Gethsemane, to the judgment-hall, where He, whose throne is heaven, and his footstool earth, was exposed to insult, contumely, and scorn; scourged, buffeted, spit upon; betrayed by one friend, denied by another, and abandoned by all; subjected to a painful, a cruel, and an ignominious death, in the presence of insulting foes: the very spirit clouded by the momentary abandonment of heavenly aid, forcing from the lips of the sufferer the agonizing exclamation: “My God, my God! why hast thou forsaken me?” and all this for the love he bore for those who became his murderers.

Thus would Mrs. Delaney, in language suited to the capacity of her pupil, recount the affecting history of our Redeemer, and gradually open her mind (aided by the Spirit of grace constantly implored to direct her) to the grand truths of the gospel. The soul of the dying Imihie imbibed the soothing balm, felt the powerful energy, and gladly received the consolation the religion of Jesus alone has power to give. Her tears, it is true, still flowed for Africa, and for Tumiáh; but they were no longer bitter tears. The heavenly ray which had been communicated to her soul, had not only enlightened it, but stilled its perturbations; and captivity was deprived of its horrors, in the enjoyment of those lively instructions in the way of holiness and peace, so impressively imparted by her truly Christian mistress.

Often when administering some relief to her bodily suffering, Mrs. Delaney would ask her how she felt herself. She would say, with a serene smile, “weak, weak; but joy, joy here,” laying her hand on her bosom, then pressing that of her compassionate benefactress. No murmur, no complaint, proceeded from her lips; but her mind appeared ever tranquil, and her soul happy. Sometimes, indeed, while caressing Samboe, the tear would swell in her eyes; but she had learned the comprehensive prayer, “Lord, let thy will be done!” and a frequent, affecting repetition of it, while she pressed her boy to her bosom, spoke volumes to the sympathizing Mrs. Delaney.

During this daily increase of spiritual strength, her frame gradually sunk under the pressure of her disease, which resisted every tried means of relief, and finally came to its usual termination; viz. suffocation. Thus closed the mortal career of the youthful Imihie, one of the many thousands of victims to a commerce, which, it is feared, the mercenary will always cling to; in which desperate men will ever be found to hazard; and, even in Africa, tyrants ever be ready to supply the horrid market; (Note Q.) while few, it is to be feared, will, like the poor Imihie, after a series of misery, find a Mrs. Delaney to soothe their sorrows, and point to realms where all tears shall be wiped away, and sorrow and sighing shall flee for ever.

To Heaven the Christian negress sent her sighs,

In morning vows, and evening sacrifice;

She pray’d for blessings to descend on those

Who dealt to her the cup of many woes;

Thought of her home in Africa forlorn,

Yet, while she wept, rejoic’d that she was born:

Ennobling virtue fix’d her hopes above,

Enlarg’d her heart, and sanctified her love.

With lowly steps the path of peace she trod,

A happy pilgrim, for she walk’d with God.

Montgomery, (adapted.)

Chapter IX.

The spreading palm-tree o’er her grave shall wave,

Emblem of bliss eternal!

“See on the grave in which she sleeps,

The soften’d savage sits and weeps;

And the sweet voice of gratitude

Oft names her in the desert rude.”

The Missionary.

The infant Samboe, thus bereaved of his suffering mother, was yet too young to feel the full magnitude of his loss; yet his little heart experienced emotions he had no power to utter, when he was told she would never more awake to his call, nor could he feel happy, when, with expressions of joy, he saw the negroes of the plantation remove his “silent mother” to the burial ground, with every demonstration of joy. (Note R.)

An ever kind Providence has, however, made the griefs of children to be transient; and Samboe, the favourite of Mrs. Delaney, from his sweetness of disposition, great activity, and early intelligence, would probably have presented a pleasing exception to the unhappy lot of his enslaved countrymen—might justly have enjoyed the title of the happy negro—had his benefactress been spared to bless the sable dependants on her kindness. But life, at all times and in all situations transient and uncertain, may be said to be peculiarly so in the West Indies; the progress of disease being so rapid, and the excitements to it so many. That dreadful visitation, the yellow fever, broke out in the district of the Delaney plantation: numberless were the victims to the “pestilence that walketh in noon-day;” and among them were Mr. Delaney and his amiable wife.

Those who were capable of appreciating their worth, who had felt their benevolence, had enjoyed the privileges they allowed, and knew how rarely they were found in the plantations, mourned them with unfeigned sorrow, their loss closing up the avenues of consolation and of hope; and those too young to feel how much they were deprived of, were quickly made sensible of a change from a system of Christian love and benevolence, to that built upon the mere hope of worldly gain. As it is not the custom in the English colonies, as in the French, for the negroes to be attached to the plantation, those of the Delaney estate were, upon the sale of it, dispersed amongst different purchasers; and the infant Samboe became the property of a cruel mercenary, who employed the poor child to wait upon him, when indulging in all the luxurious ease of an occidental despot. By those who have seen the various caprices of a temper altogether uncontrouled, the whims of a mind destitute of cultivation and obstinate in ignorance, the cruelty of a disposition formed by the possession of a precarious power over helpless individuals; by those, and those only, will the various species of suffering to which the innocent child was subjected be understood; and the terrors which were produced by the horrid imprecations, the unmanly abuse, and vulgar epithets of this brutal master, upon the gentle and timid character of the poor little Samboe. It was then he began to feel the loss, and to pine for the tenderness of his mother and his benefactress; and there is little doubt but he would have soon followed them to the tomb, had not an incident occurred, that emancipated him from the tyrannical controul by which he so acutely suffered. One day, while attending his master at breakfast, just as he handed the coffee his foot slipped, and it was thrown over a beautiful cimar, which the luxurious planter highly valued, as the gift of a lady to whom he was partial. He rose in haste and in anger, and aiming a blow at the now kneeling boy, missed the blow, and fell himself to the ground, striking his head by the fall against the edge of a sofa. Seeing him suddenly fall, some attendants in waiting rushed to his assistance, but in vain: the blow had been fatal, he had fallen to rise no more on earth! Happy was it for Samboe that there were witnesses, white witnesses of the scene, who could exonerate him from all intentional connexion with, or wilful provocation to the catastrophe. The alarm, however, of the unoffending child was distressing: the countenance of the planter at all times bore evidence of his ill-regulated mind and indurated heart, and the awful hand of death fixed them in an expression the most horrid. With little idea of such sudden death, the poor child thought he was but in a violent passion, and, in the most piteous accents, clasping his hands together, besought “massa to forgive poor Samboe, who would not break cup any more, would not spoil dress any more.” But his supplication was alike unheeded by master and attendants, except by one, who kicking him as he passed, said: “Get out of the way, ye little whining dog, or I’ll make ye.” Samboe crept from the apartment, and crouching under some furniture, felt all the bitterness of a life of slavery, of which nature, in its first fresh feelings, can be capable. Happily again for the infant captive, the wife of the planter could not bear to retain in her service the innocent cause of her husband’s death; at least, secretly rejoicing at her own emancipation from his arbitrary disposition, she affected so to say: consequently, she expressed her wish of selling him to the manager of a neighbouring plantation, but as her recent loss rendered it impossible for her to have a personal interview, she thus communicated her wish by note to this person: “Unable to bear the sight of the young author of the death of the best and tenderest of husbands, Mrs. Williamson requests the favour of Mr. Martin to take charge of, and dispose of him, in any way he may judge most conducive to her interest, and to employ the proceeds in the purchase of a more effective, that is, laborious slave. Mrs. W. relies on the known kindness of Mr. M. to render this service to the disconsolate widow of his late friend.” My young readers will doubtless be shocked, that Mrs. Williamson should thus profess grief for the loss of a man she married for his wealth, without either esteeming or loving him; but it is no fancied picture, and is presented to show, that, unless the heart is continually watched, and the mind sedulously cultivated, in situations favourable to indolence and self-indulgence, the moral feelings quickly become blunted, and the individual can easily, and without any self-reproach, assume any sentiments and any line of conduct which best suits the whim or caprice of the moment; and she hated the little Samboe, because she once overheard him, in a moment of unusual gaiety, telling a circle of slaves what merry dances they had at Delaney, when dear Missy Delaney danced with poor Samboe. Upon such trifles will envy condescend to feed its insatiate appetite. Good, however, to Samboe, was educed from all this evil. Mr. Martin was the respectable and humane manager of the Moreton estate; (see “Twilight Hours Improved,” page 85;) subjected to his superintendence during the minority of Mr. Frederick Moreton, by the will of his deceased father; and whose humane treatment of his negroes had excited the displeasure of the young man’s guardian, Mr. Penryn, who firmly believed the African race created only to become the slaves of Europeans. Mr. Martin lost no time in complying with the request of his fair neighbour. He well remembered frequently having seen the little Samboe in attendance upon his imperious master, and never failed to admire his extreme docility, mildness, and intelligence; and he looked upon the circumstance of Mrs. Williamson’s desire to sell him, as very fortunate, as he had, only a few days previous, received the commission to send to England a negro boy for his young master.

The purchase was soon made, and Samboe was once more under the roof of an indulgent master. Every attention was given, in order to establish his health, and improve his personal appearance, that he might credit the choice of his purchaser, and please the young eye of his future master. He only remained at Jamaica to effect these purposes, when he was consigned to the care of the captain of an English West Indiaman, with instructions to have him safely conveyed to Mr. Penryn’s, Portman Square.

Samboe evinced the greatest reluctance to go on board; he clung to Mr. Martin, who himself conducted him, and trembled violently, declaring he could not go into great ship, or on great wide sea. No one could account for this extraordinary reluctance and evident terror; for they knew not that the young heart of the little negro was throbbing with recollections for which he had no name, and which he had no power to express. It is true, they were vague, like the confused remembrance of a troubled dream, but they were powerful; and it was with the utmost difficulty Mr. Martin soothed him, by gentleness, promises, and assurances; and, after all, was obliged to leave him, when he had cried himself to sleep upon a coil of rope on the deck, no one being able to prevail upon him to go below, and Mr. Martin positively forbidding coercion.

The grief and terror of the poor boy were renewed, when he discovered he had been left by Mr Martin; but a series of kind treatment, and many little indulgences granted him, after a while reconciled him to his new situation; while his simplicity and quickness greatly endeared him to the sailors, with whom he became quite a pet. The voyage passed in this manner without any particular occurrence; and Samboe was introduced, one evening, to the dining room of Mr. Penryn, filled with elegant company.

Had he been one of the wonders of the world, he probably would not have excited more attention, or elicited more remarks. The ladies admired his eyes and his teeth; the gentlemen enquired if he was a Molembo, or from the Kroo country, and began an animated debate on slavery, and the slave-trade. Each lady gave her opinion of the most becoming dress to contrast with the jet black of his skin. One asked him if was not glad to come to England; another enquired if he was sorry to leave Africa; a third enquired if they flogged him at the plantation; while a fourth, by way of compliment to the lady of the house, observed, he was a happy black boy, to have such a charming mistress. To all these remarks the poor child could give no reply; nor, it would seem, was it expected; and, much to his joy, he was dismissed to the care of the groom, until his apartment and employment about the person of his young master could be arranged.

The groom, however, was highly indignant that a vile neger boy should be committed to his care: “Did they fancy he would let a black get between his sheets? No, indeed; there was the hay-loft, the stable-boy should pull him a truss of straw in the corner there: surely that would be a better bed than most negers got. Sleep with me, indeed; no, I’d lose my place first, and tis’n’t a bad one, neither. Had they told me to take Cæsar the house-dog, or Neptune the Newfoundlander, I should not have so much have minded; but a neger boy! surely my master was half-seas over to think of it.” This, and much more of the same refined objection, passed in the kitchen of —— Penryn, esq. and, according to the groom’s kind arrangement, Samboe was indulged with some clean straw in the stable-loft.

The children of oppression and calamity quickly sympathize; a kindred feeling draws them together: thus it was with Samboe the African, and Frank the English stable boy. An orphan from his cradle, and a parish apprentice, Frank had been early subjected to every oppression—exposed to every temptation; but a certain buoyancy of spirit, and a persevering ardour of mind, enabled him to rise above the one; and the latter was rendered less dangerous, by his constant, unremitted love of employment. He was busily engaged mending his shoes, when his master, the groom, introduced the young negro to his acquaintance. “There, Frank,” he said, “there is a companion for you, my lad; take care he don’t touch the horses, and mind he don’t run away. Lock him up when you come in for your supper: you may offer him some, but I don’t know what negers eat, I’m sure. Master should have told us that, I think, for I don’t expect they live as we do. Eh! my lad, do ye mind me?” he added, with a raised voice, as he saw Frank take the hand of the timid Samboe, and ask him if he was tired. “Oh yes, sir!” he replied, touching his fur cap, “I will be sure to take care of him.”

Glad to get quit of the restraint which the charge imposed upon him, the groom was in high good humour with Frank, and promised, if he would attend to his orders, he would give him a shilling. Astonished at his unwonted generosity, Frank repeated his assurances; and having made his new companion understand that he desired to make him comfortable, with the happy facility of children to be so when left to themselves, they quickly became acquainted. Frank found that negers could eat good bread and fresh meat; that they had no objection to tarts; and that even a custard, given by the cook as a treat to merry Frank, was equally relished by the neger boy. After this luxurious repast, during which, if it was not the “feast of reason and the flow of soul,” there was, most unquestionably, innate benevolence on one side, and genuine gratitude on the other, the new-made friends sought repose on the same clean truss of straw, and together enjoyed the refreshment of “nature’s sweet restorer.” Not long, however, after they had thus lain down, Frank was roused from his yet imperfect slumber, by a slight rustling and a low voice, very near him. He spoke gently to his new bed-fellow, but received no reply. Frank had that tincture of superstition which usually attaches to the ignorant and uncultivated; and the unusual sound, his new situation, and the profound darkness, aided the impression; while a thought of the little negro became associated with the recollection of several marvellous ghost-stories he had heard. He ventured, however, (not without considerable reluctance,) to feel if his sable companion was by his side, and discovered, to his amazement, that he was not there. The murmur still continued, and Frank, trembling all over him, made a desperate effort, and called lustily, “Samboe, Samboe!” “Samboe here,” replied the boy, in a soft and gentle tone; “Samboe here, but wicked boy.”

Frank’s courage returned at the sound of Samboe’s voice clearly pronouncing these words, although he was at a loss to account for his self-accusation. “Why, what have you done to be wicked; where are you?” he enquired. Samboe’s imperfect knowledge of the English language, permitted him not to understand the full import of these questions; and it was not until Frank, with renewed courage at finding his companion was really a mortal, contrived to make him understand his repeated enquiry, why he had risen, and why he called himself wicked? “Because Samboe forgot lesson dear Missy Delaney teach him. Pray to great God before sleep; pray to great God when eyes open; pray to good God give food; pray to good God give friends.”

Frank now understood, that Samboe, in the novelty of his situation, and probably from the effects of a little porter he had taken, had forgotten to offer his simple tribute of thanks and respect to the omnipotent Creator, which the good Mrs. Delaney had taught him habitually to do; although he was too young when she died, to admit any further religious instruction, or to understand more than that a great God, beyond the blue sky, observed all his actions.

Samboe had never, until this night, neglected this lesson; but, with uplifted hands and bended knee, was accustomed to acknowledge the protection and the support of the Being he had been taught to regard, as ever beholding, and with unwearied care protecting, all men. Sleep, however, had not closed his eyes, ere the omission was recollected, and he had crept out of the straw, to offer his simple orison, the low murmur of which had so much alarmed his new friend. Having concluded, he returned to his straw couch, and slept the sleep of innocence, untill awaked by Frank rising to his morning duty in the stables.

Frank possessed an intelligence of mind, as well as activity of spirit, which required but opportunities to develope themselves. The incident of Samboe’s forgotten prayer, impressed his youthful mind. How was it he had never been taught to pray? He had never seen it practised among those he had been with. He thought people went to church to pray; yet surely if a black boy thought it right to pray, a white boy ought. Perhaps it was a custom among them? Yet, such was the innate impression he had, that it was right and proper, that he felt a species of shame to answer Samboe in the negative, when he artlessly enquired if he did not pray to great God, to take care of him; he, too, who knew so many things: for, to Samboe, Frank seemed a miracle of cleverness, when he described his various employments, and displayed, to his astonished visitor, the results of his ingenuity, which he did with no little self-complacency.

Samboe seemed now the happiest of human beings. He suffered nothing to pass unnoticed; asking the reason, the use, the name of every thing he heard, or saw, or touched. This he contrived to do, either by broken words, gestures, or signs. The new-made friends thus passed several hours of the morning, before the groom made his appearance; for, although his apartments were above the stables, he did not often occupy them, finding numerous engagements more pleasant than attending to his duty.

The only unpleasant circumstance of this morning of delight to Samboe, was its chilliness. It was one of those which frequently occur in May, as if to reprove the hastiness of the family of Flora, in putting forth their fair forms; and its asperity was severely felt by the little African. Frank determined to make him as comfortable as he could; and having received no orders to the contrary, lighted a fire in the groom’s room, and invited Samboe to its genial warmth, while he quickly prepared a comfortable mess of milk-pottage.

They were thus enjoying themselves, when the master of the house appeared, half awake, and storming at Frank for a lazy dog, for not having swept the stable-door. But he supposed he and the beggarly neger had been idling away their time together. Frank, who was used to his arbitrary temper, said little; but, making signs for Samboe to return to the loft, he quickly prepared every thing for his master’s toilet, and proceeded to rectify the omission of not having swept the door-way. While thus engaged, a servant from the house arrived with an order to the groom to take the negro-boy to a clothes-shop, and have him neatly clothed, until a a proper dress could be fixed upon; as he was to have an interview with his mistress and young master, who neither of them could bear the smell of tar, exhaling from the filthy things he wore.

This message, delivered in due form to the groom while he was shaving himself, nearly endangered his cutting his throat, by the resentful agitation it caused, that he should be appointed to wait upon a neger. It was a degradation which he could not, nor would not submit to. Following, therefore, the example of his superiors, he delegated the office to his subordinate; and calling loudly for Frank, as soon as the messenger had left him, he desired him to take the black he seemed so fond of, to Mr. Draper’s, and get him rigged. “And mind ye, Frank, boy, call at the ’potecaries or ’fumers, and bid ’em pour some musk or lavender, or something sweet over the lad, for missis is very particular; and as to Master Fred, I shall have him trying how my legs will bear the exercise of his new hunting-whip, if I do not please him about this black, who, I dare say, will not be long before he feels it. But I suppose he has been used to flogging, so it will be nothing to him.”

Frank, highly pleased with this important commission, called the shivering boy from the hay-chamber, and in no long time he was completely equipped, in a suit according to the taste of Frank and the vender: certainly as stiff and ill made as it well could be; while the effusion of lavender-water was completely accomplished, even till the poor boy’s eyes became filled with tears, from the potency of the perfume, and every person he passed on his return, half stopped, at meeting with the unusual odour.

Samboe, however, had yet some hours to become reconciled to his new habiliment; and his friend Frank had so many modes and sources of employment and amusement, that those hours passed insensibly away. At length, about four o’clock, the groom again appeared to conduct him to the house; and when arrived, a footman desired him to follow him to the apartment of his lady, previously to her taking her morning airing.

Chapter X.

“I would not have a slave to till my ground,

To carry me, to fan me while I sleep,

And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth

That sinews bought and sold have ever earn’d.”

Cowper.

From the reciprocation of the heart’s best affections, which had marked the short period of Samboe’s acquaintance with Frank, we may now follow the young stranger to the inanity of an Anglo West Indian boudoir; in which were Mrs. Penryn, reclined on a chaise longue, a young lady spangling some delicate muslin, and Mr. Frederick Moreton standing at a distant part of the room. The footman having opened the door, pointed to Samboe to enter, and immediately closed it upon him, leaving the timid boy to the scrutinizing looks of Mrs. Penryn, the oblique attention of the young lady, and the supercilious glance of the boy, who was engaged in the humane employment of holding a live mouse by the tail, as high as his arm could reach; while a kitten, eagerly attending to its writhings, kept springing, instinctively, to catch it, and as often, from the violence of the exertion, fell back on the floor. Had it not been for the chill which pervaded his frame, in his way to this apartment, Samboe might have thought himself in the West Indies, both as to the temperature, and the luxurious ease displayed in the arrangement of it. An elegant Persian carpet, entirely covered it; sofas, ottomans, and couches, invited to indolence and repose; ornaments of the richest and most expensive materials, vases, cabinets, &c. adorned it; and a number of tropical birds, of beauteous plumage, displayed their captive state in superb cages of various elegant forms; while shells of great magnitude and exquisite beauty were displayed in different parts of this superb room, with considerable judgment and taste; and a rich glow seemed communicated to every object, from the light passing the draperies of beautiful rose-coloured taffety curtains. Plants of the loveliest bloom and most exquisite odour, completed the fascinations of this luxurious apartment, tastefully arranged in beautiful baskets and vases, reflected by the superb mirrors, of which there were several on each side of the room.

Mrs. Penryn, half raising her pale and spiritless form from the sofa on which she was reclining, was the first to break the silence which followed Samboe’s introduction. “Come, Fred, do give Frolic the mouse, and look at this boy. He will serve to amuse you, I hope; for I think the dogs, the cats, the mice, and the flies, have had enough of you. Come, did you ever behold such an uncouth creature as George has made him: why the boy looks as if he were in a wooden case. He must not appear about you, till he has something fit to put on.”

This feeling harangue did not divert the young gentleman from his amusement for some minutes, till at length, more it would seem from his own fatigue, than from any motive of compassion for the poor animals, he gave the cat its natural prey; and it retired swearing, as its murmur of triumph is styled, to enjoy the feast, under a sofa at the further part of the room. “Now, Lavinia,” said Mrs. Penryn, addressing the young lady, “give us your opinion, my dear; your taste is so good: what dress shall we have for Fred’s page? He will like whatever you decide upon, I dare say.”

“Dear me, do you think so?” replied Miss Lavinia, in the most affected tone: “Mr. Frederick seldom asks my opinion, I think.”

“He is but a boy, and you will excuse him, I’m sure; but really this dress must be left to you.”

“Certainly,” replied Lavinia, “he must have something different from that he now wears, which is only fit for the stable.”

“And a very good place too, I think,” remarked the polite young gentleman, as he threw himself at his length on a sofa, rousing by the action a little white terrier, which had been reposing quietly upon it. The dog uttered a cry, and jumped on the floor.

“Poor Erminet cannot be quiet even here,” said Mrs. Penryn, angrily: “I wish, Fred, you would look before you lie down: I dare say you have lamed my pretty Erminet.”

“I dare say I have done no such thing,” retorted the respectful nephew: “But I have no desire to stay, I assure you. I am sure, though Lavinia talks of the stable, I had rather be there, than shut up in this hot room. So make haste and determine about the boy’s dress, for I cannot stay shilly-shally here all day.”

“I wonder when you will learn to be civil,” said Mrs. Penryn: “I think, if you had had a few lessons of politeness interspersed with Greek and Latin, it would have made you more agreeable.” “That is all you women know of the matter. But let me have no preaching. Have you done with me?”

“Why, Fred, how provoking you are: did you not bid me send for the boy? And now he is come, you want to go without settling any thing about him. Remember, he is your property, and you must do what you please about him. I shall trouble myself no more about him.”

“Very well, then leave it alone,” said the young barbarian; and striding past the trembling Samboe, he quitted the room, shutting the door with violence after him.

“What a pity it is,” said Mrs. Penryn, after a short pause, “that Frederick is so hasty: such a good-hearted lad as he is. I wish, Lavinia, you would undertake to soften down his manners: he is really worth your trouble, my dear girl.”

The young lady simpered, half blushed, expressed her doubt of having any influence over Mr. Frederick, who was, indeed, a fine manly boy. There was nothing she could refuse to dear Mrs. Penryn and her guardian, and she would certainly endeavour to please Frederick, that she might refine his manners a little.”

“Well, begin then, my dear girl, and fix upon a tasty dress for the boy. I know Fred will be pleased when it is done. I intend Samboe to be his constant attendant: he is to sleep in the little anti-room, to be ever at hand to attend Frederick’s pleasure; and, in short, he is to do what he pleases respecting him. Mr. Penryn says he will have hundreds under his power when he goes to Jamaica.”

This reference to the taste of Lavinia, was the dictate of policy; for she was recently become a ward of Mr. Penryn, was an orphan of immense property, and only a few years older than Frederick. The prudent Mr. and Mrs. Penryn were very desirous to favour an attachment between them; and Mrs. Penryn was directed, by her husband, to seek every opportunity of doing so.

The young lady was of that negative character, so often met with amongst those who, in large boarding-schools, lose every discriminating trait in the general application of certain rules and certain pursuits. Dress, admiration, and gaiety, alone had power to animate her pretty features; from which, however, no intellectual ray ever beamed. She was highly flattered by the desire of Mrs. Penryn to exercise her taste in the choice of a dress for Samboe. That choice could not be difficult, for one who had so frequently seen the variety of costume exhibited on the stage; and as vanity, ostentation, and singularity, not congruity, were to dictate the choice, it was soon fixed, as the young lady thought, of that elegant form and expensive material, which could not fail to please the young planter; and it must be owned, that when, a few days subsequent, Samboe made his appearance in the elegant costume of Persia, that he exhibited a very fair specimen of juvenile negro beauty. The blue and silver vest and caftan, the full girdle, the capacious trowsers, and the perfectly white turban, with its golden cord and sparkling gems, contrasted well with his sable skin and slender form; giving a lightness to his air, which even the pressure of slavery was not able materially to injure.

Lavinia’s taste was loudly applauded; and even Frederick condescended to say the boy looked something like what he ought to do. But poor Samboe, like many a white boy and girl, felt the misery of fine clothes, being continually reminded that he must not do this, he must not lie there, lest he should soil his dress.

His young master would never suffer him out of his sight: not that he cared a button for him or his clothes, but because he could not allow of any cessation in tormenting a poor being over whom he had full controul; and he was continually racking his invention, to devise some new species of torment and teasing. With a mean species of jealousy, as soon as he found Frank the stable-boy was the only kind being who regarded the poor black boy as a fellow-creature, he interdicted Samboe from ever going into the stable, or from speaking to his good-tempered friend.

This was a cruel stroke to poor Samboe, thus to deprive him of the only portion of comfort in his bitter draught of slavery. His mind was in danger of becoming callous from oppression, and in proportion to the degradation he was subjected to. He had no motive for action, but the dread of punishment. Without voluntary agency, a mere passive instrument in the hands of others, his mind would assuredly have become irrecoverably contracted, and the powers of soul even destroyed, had not the very tyranny and caprice which were producing these lamentable results, transferred the suffering boy to the benevolent care of Captain Tremayne, and his young nephew, Charles Roslyn. (See “Twilight Hours improved.”)

Become the property of the latter by the hasty gift of Frederick, how different was the lot of Samboe, from a state of cruel coercion, of degrading slavery, which was daily debasing every manly sentiment!

“When, to deep sadness sullenly resign’d,

He feels his body’s bondage in his mind,

Put off his generous nature, and to suit

His manners with his fate, put on the brute.”

Such, indeed, is slavery most justly termed, “the grave of virtue.” Under its cold and ungenial influence, every generous, every warm emotion must languish and die. Through the gloom which envelopes the soul subjected to its dark power, no ray of intellect, no beam of joy, no sun of cheerfulness can pierce. And yet man, inconsistent man, while condemning his fellow-being to this soul-paralyzing state, expects from the poor victims qualities and virtues only to be planted in the soil, only to be nourished by the sun, of liberty—of Christian liberty, of Christian charity:

“For slaves by truth enlarg’d are doubly freed.”

Chapter XI.

“Thy lips have shed instruction as the dew,

Taught me what path to shun, and what pursue.

Farewell my former joys! I sigh no more

For Africa’s once-lov’d, benighted shore:

Serving a benefactor, I am free,

At my best home, if not exil’d from thee.”

Samboe, placed with the respectable Mr. Llwellin, made rapid progress in reading and writing, and in the elements of general knowledge. His quickness gained the entire attention of his preceptor; while these was a charm and freshness in all he said, which could only be derived from quick perceptions and a warm heart—a buoyancy of fancy and a fervid feeling, which won the affections of all those who had to instruct him. With the deepest attention he would listen to Mr. Llwellin, as in a simple and impressive manner he explained to him the general principles of religion, the nature and duty of worshipping God, the creation of man, his fall from virtue and happiness, and the promised restoration through the merits of the Redeemer. It is a mistake that these subjects are beyond the comprehension, and excite no interest in the hearts of children. Practical devotion and the Christian duties, have a forcible influence on the ductile minds and unsophisticated hearts of the young. Hence the transition of instruction is easy, and perfectly understood by them, from the duty and privilege of prayer and praise, to the truth that we are unable to do either, or even to think what is right, without superior guidance and continual aid. The conviction of this at once gives an object and a fervency to prayer; and he who prays fervently and believing, however young he may be, will not be unheeded when thus imploring the divine aid.

It was the invariable custom of Mr. Llwellin to assemble his family in the evening. He then read a portion of the Holy Scriptures, and explained them with admirable simplicity and pathos to his little auditory. It was now that the prayers Samboe had said, as it were mechanically, were now repeated with an earnestness which fully indicated that they were not merely the offering of the lips; and so much did he profit by the pious instructions, example, and care of Mr. Llwellin, that he was admitted into the Christian church by baptism; but, at the request of his young protector, retaining his former name as his usual appellation although he received, at the font, that of Henry.

So anxious was this interesting youth to attain all useful knowledge, that he was always the first at his scholastic duties; and when dismissed from them, after a little recreation, enjoyed with all the zest of health and youth, he would occupy his time in religious reading and study, drawing, and little mechanical works; equally proving his strength of intellect and his active ingenuity. Though his temper was frequently severely tried by the taunts and ridicule of the boys, he never betrayed anger or resentment: he disarmed them by his humility, patience, and meekness; so that scoffers he converted into friends. He was lively in his disposition, but taciturn from thought, except when with his teachers; when he seemed to expand every faculty of his mind to receive their instructions, while any accession of knowledge caused his naturally brilliant eyes to beam with added intelligence and delight.

With all these qualities of mind and heart, it is not surprising that Samboe was a universal favourite; and unfeigned, indeed, was his joy, when he was permitted to write to his dear massa Charles, whom he never named without his eyes filling with tears of grateful affection. “Oh!” he would say, “my dear massa, I shall never forget his goodness.” Years passed on in this progressive improvement, during which a regular correspondence was kept up between Charles Roslyn and his protegé, when an incident occurred which opened a field for the exercise of those attainments it had been the laudable and unremitted study of Samboe to acquire.

Colonel Roslyn was entertaining a party of gentlemen, among whom were admiral Herbert and his nephew Fitzhugh. Charles Roslyn was the favourite midshipman of the admiral, and the conversation turned upon the topic of the day; namely, the slave-trade, and the probabilities of its abolition, as well as the capacity of the negroes to profit by their freedom. Many were the arguments adduced for and against; and Colonel Roslyn was naturally led to relate the circumstances of Samboe’s becoming Charles’s protegé, and the high reward they had experienced in the sweet disposition, high intellectual capacity, moral worth, and genuine religious principles of the young negro. “I have the sincerest pleasure,” observed Colonel Roslyn, “in stating this individual instance of the moral and intellectual worth of an African, of which, doubtless, there are many similar instances, where instruction and kindness have elicited and fostered the qualities of the mind and heart. But we all remember the period, my friends, when the African’s claim to the character and privileges of man was even disputed—when they were considered as somewhat of a superior species of ourang outang1. This false and inhuman estimate, succeeding years have disproved. It has been in numberless instances shown that they are not only men, but capable of becoming intelligent and virtuous men; and not only virtuous men, but pious, unaffected, sincere Christians. I am not, however,” continued the colonel, “an advocate for giving personal liberty to numbers of men, unless, at the same time, I impart the principles of religion and the arts of civil life. It is only by giving freedom to the soul, and by encouraging the virtuous energies of man, that we can make him capable of properly appreciating the blessing of liberty, and preserve him from becoming a pest to society, instead of a useful member of it. Without these correcting and restraining principles, liberty would soon degenerate into licentiousness, and the possession of power be exercised in deeds of violence.”

“I entirely agree with you, colonel,” observed the admiral; “and therefore be so good as to pledge me in a glass of that excellent claret, when I offer my sentiment: ‘Let the empire of Britain be the empire of mercy; and let no shore re-echo with the thunder of her power, but which shall also smile under the blessing of her beneficence.’” This sentiment of the admiral’s was warmly received. During this conversation, a young man at the lower end of the table appeared deeply interested in it. His animated and penetrating countenance drew the attention of Colonel Roslyn, and he expressed his pleasure, in observing to the admiral, that an interest for the enslaved Africans seemed to animate his young relative; for it was Fitzhugh, whose whole soul seemed engaged in the subject.

“Yes, indeed,” observed the admiral, “Fitzhugh is a very enthusiast in the cause, and I love him the better for it: it is honourable to his feelings, and to those generous sentiments which ought to pervade the heart, and direct the conduct of a British officer. Have you not heard that he has obtained a very responsible and active appointment in the new settlement of Sierra Leone, and that, in a short time, he will sail for Africa? I doubt not his conscientious attention to the duties devolving upon him, nor do I think the directors could have made a more judicious choice; for, young as he is, his firmness of principle, his rectitude in action, his genuine feeling, and his cultivated mind, render him peculiarly eligible to attend to the duties, and to surmount the difficulties of an infant colony. He will form one of the council, which will be sent from England, for the government of the colony. This council is particularly instructed to secure to all negroes and people of colour, equal rights, and equal treatment, in every respect, as the whites. They are to be tried by jury, as the whites, and every facility given to them to exercise their peculiar talents; employments being allotted them according to their progressive capacity of discharging them. They are especially, to be instructed in the principles of religion and morals. Public worship and the reverent observation of the sabbath, the general instruction of the adults and the judicious education of the children, are the means to be used to draw this now wretched race of men from the night of ignorance to the glorious light of divine and temporal knowledge. In fact, the grand object of the Sierra Leone Company is to substitute, for that disgraceful traffic which has too long subsisted, a fair and legitimate commerce with Africa, and all the blessings which may be expected from it.”

“I thank you, admiral, for this account,” replied Colonel Roslyn, “and pray, with all my heart, that the benevolent exertions of the Company may be crowned with final success; and I believe I may assure you, that such is also the prayer of every individual of the present company.”

“Fitzhugh,” said the admiral, “I have been telling Colonel Roslyn that you are an enthusiast for the abolition of the slave-trade—that it is your dream by night, and your stimulus by day.”

“If, my dear Sir, an ardent desire to use my individual influence and exertions to remove from my country such a stain upon its humanity; if as ardently to desire an amelioration of the wretched state of the African; if to cherish and to bring into action all those charities which distinguish reasoning man from instinctive brutes: if to be all this constitutes an enthusiast, then do I, indeed, plead guilty to the charge of enthusiasm. Nor am I likely to become less so: on the contrary, the intelligence I have just received from my young friends here, (directing his eyes to Alfred, and Charles Roslyn, who sat near him,) has confirmed me in the assurance, that we have every thing to hope from the judicious and liberal plan, of the Company to which I have now the honour to be attached; and which has so highly flattered me, by appointing me, in conjunction with others, to carry into effect their beneficent purposes. But you know, my dear Sir, my deep abhorrence of slavery is derived from the practical display of its cruelties; as well as from a deep reflection on its moral turpitude, its impolicy, and its inconsistency with the boasted honour and religious code of my country. Let those who question the feasibility of the plan of civilization and emancipation, visit, as I have done, the colonies, (more especially the Spanish colonies and the Portuguese dominions in South America,) where the inhuman traffic of slaves is carried to the greatest possible extent, forming the immediate and private revenue of the crown; let them be but faintly impressed with the horrors that constantly there occur, and I scruple not to say, if they fail to enter their protest against a system so barbarous, they deserve not the name of men, and make their religion but an impious mockery.

“A myriad of instances might be adduced, to bear me out in my assertions. The labour, of whatever nature it may be, or however laborious, is performed by slaves, and seldom more than six negroes appointed to remove the heaviest burdens. I have, for instance, seen at Rio de Janeiro, four only, groaning under a pipe of wine, which they have had to remove through the city. Many of these poor creatures are bred to trades, and are sent out daily or weekly, with peremptory orders to bring home a certain sum, at the expiration of the agreed time. What they can earn over, they have to themselves; but they are always so highly rated, that it is with the greatest difficulty they can raise the sum nominated; and, in case of defalcation, it is attributed to indolence or laziness, which subjects the unhappy victim to punishment. An awful instance of the despair produced by cruelty and oppression, occurred during my residence at Rio. A barbarous and remorseless wretch had a few slaves, whom he used to send out upon the plan I have named, subjected to the penalty of a severe flogging, if they did not, within a prescribed time, earn the sum required and their food. One of these men was a hair-dresser: he used to attend me very regularly, and always was quiet, industrious, and even active, to promote his master’s interest.

“After a little time, however, I observed him to be gloomy and melancholy. I asked him the reason for the change, and was informed that he had been unsuccessful, and could not render to his master the sum required; and that he had little hopes of being able to raise it, consequently was liable to punishment, I gave him something towards it, but, being obliged to be absent a few weeks, knew not the result until I returned; when I was informed, that, as the time approached when he was to render his account, he became greatly distressed, and despaired of accomplishing his engagement. He went, however, in great distress, and tendered what he had gained; assuring his master he had used every exertion to obtain the specific sum, and imploring from him a remission of punishment, or a suspension, at least, for a few days. This was at length granted him, but with horrid threats of many additional stripes in case of failure. The time fast approached when he must return, and he was still deficient. He reached the door of his master’s house, when, in despair of being forgiven, and dreading the ordeal he had to undergo, he took from his pocket a razor, and, with a desperate violence, nearly severed his head from his body. This horrid deed had no other effect upon his inhuman master, than to increase his severity towards his other slaves, on whom he imposed heavier burdens, to recompence him for the loss sustained by the death of the miserable suicide2.

“It is a usual practice,” continued Fitzhugh, “when slaves become desperately ill, for their masters to disown them, and turn them into the streets, to evade the expences of their funeral; and, thus abandoned and exposed, their miserable existence is soon terminated. I have to apologize for trespassing upon your attention so long, gentlemen,” observed this intelligent young man; “but I have only recounted one of a thousand instances which have come under my own observation, of the barbarous abuses of power exercised over the miserable captives.”

The party expressed their obligation to Fitzhugh, for the relation he had given them, and their united hope, that every effort made use of, to ameliorate the situation of the already enslaved, and to check the inhuman traffic for the future, might be crowned with success; all agreeing, that every exertion that England makes to stop the bleeding wounds of Africa, will cause her to rise in her national character more resplendent, and must meet the approbation of every good, and what may be justly called great men, at home and abroad, and, above all, the approbation that of God who holds in his hands the destiny of nations3.

“Have I not heard you, Fitzhugh,” enquired the admiral, “express a wish that you could meet in England with two or three intelligent negroes, who would be willing to enter into engagements with the Company, as instructors to the children, and whose habits of civilization might give them an influence over their countrymen without exciting any jealousies?”

“You have, dear Sir,” replied Fitzhugh; “and from what I have learned of the mental and moral qualities of my young friend’s protegé, I am anxious for their permission to visit Aberystwith, in order to enquire if he has any objection to accompany me to Africa. A few such young men as he is described to be, would do more to effect our plans, than any other mode I can think of; and as he has not yet made any choice of a profession, I should feel myself most grateful to Colonel Roslyn and his friends, if they will second and sanction my application to the youth, who owes so much to their benevolent kindness.”

Colonel Roslyn said, “Call upon us tomorrow morning, my dear Sir, and myself and sons will be happy to co-operate, as far as in our power, in your philanthropic exertions.”

This being cheerfully accepted, the conversation took a general turn, until the party broke up.

1 See Mr. Wilberforce’s speech, at a meeting of the Church Missionary Society, 1822.

2 See Shillibur’s Voyage.

3 See Cohen’s Letter to Governor Macarthy, African Report, 1822.

Chapter XII.

* * * “My heart surpris’d, o’erflows

With filial fondness for the land you bless.”

“Theirs the triumph be,

Instead of treasure, robb’d by ruffian war,

Round social earth to circle fair exchange,

And bind the nations in a golden chain.

To these I honour’d stoop.”

Fitzhugh was punctual to his appointment at Colonel Roslyn’s; and after an interesting conversation, and the perusal of a number of Samboe’s letters to his protector Charles Roslyn, it was agreed that Fitzhugh and Alfred Roslyn should proceed to Wales, in order to ascertain the sentiments of Samboe upon his projected removal, respecting which, his own unbiassed choice was to be consulted. The intended visit of the young men was to be announced by letter to Captain Tremayne; and, as Fitzhugh possessed all the ardour, promptitude, and zeal of a Clarkson, in the cause of humanity, the letter was immediately written, and an early day fixed for the journey. In the correspondence of Charles and his protegé, the interesting debates in the English senate, respecting the slave-trade, frequently formed a part; and Samboe had even so far expressed his sentiments upon the subject, that, when the colony of Sierra Leone was first formed, he regretted that his youth, and the mediocrity of his attainments, would oblige him to forego all hope of being useful to his poor benighted countrymen; and he had very sensibly felt disappointment at the ill success of the first establishment: an ill success which sufficiently proved the truth of the observation, that, “if the restraints of slavery be removed, without corresponding culture of the mind and heart, the mere enjoyment of temporal benefits will not make the man either grateful or happy.”

Charles Roslyn greatly regretted that the hourly-expected departure of his ship, precluded him from the pleasure of accompanying his brother and Fitzhugh to Aberystwith. Having taken leave of him, and bearing his good wishes and tender remembrances to his kind relatives and his affectionate Samboe, the travellers commenced their journey, early in a lovely June morning, when every scene they passed, manifested the riches and the bounty, the wisdom and beneficence of the Creator. The meeting was what might be expected from refined feeling, generous ardour, and virtuous exertion, on the one side; and grateful respect, modest worth, and conscious ability, chastened by the most engaging humility, on the other. Tears of unfeigned joy and gratitude started into the eyes of Samboe, as he heard Mr. Llwellin assure Fitzhugh, he had no hesitation in saying, that if Samboe acceded to his proposal of accompanying him to Africa, he would be found a valuable coadjutor in the projected work of mercy: “For he is,” continued the good old man, “not only fully capable of imparting the elements of general knowledge, but has a happy and peculiar manner of instructing others in those divine truths by which he regulates every action of his own life. Nor do I think you would easily find a more fit instrument among us, for promoting the great ends of civilization, and the moral and religious instruction of his countrymen. I make no scruple in paying this just tribute to the character and abilities of my dear pupil, in his presence, because he well knows they are so much my genuine sentiments, that I have advised his directing his attention to the instruction of others; and Providence seems manifestly to favour the suggestion, by the present offer enabling him to put it in practice. May his now benighted and ill-fated countrymen become more and more sensible of the extensive blessings preparing for them; and may my dear and docile pupil, Samboe, be one of the favoured instruments of Heaven, (assisted by the Spirit of grace,) to diffuse the light, to communicate the blessings of religion, and to lead the now idolatrous African to rejoice in the high privilege of communion by prayer and praise with the great Creator and compassionate Saviour; all distinctions of colour and country being lost, in that generous sympathy which should flow from the relation which all bear to that Saviour who died for the redemption of all men1.”

There was such a heartfelt earnestness, such an affecting energy, such genuine piety, in the voice and manner of the good Llwellin, while he uttered his philanthropic wishes, that it made a forcible impression upon his young auditors. Tears of respect, gratitude, affection, and hope, filled the eyes of Samboe. The intenseness and contrariety of his feelings became painful; and, unable longer to restrain their expression, he threw himself at the feet of his venerable instructor, and sobbed aloud, uttering broken sentences of obligation; and when a little composed, earnestly praying that God, the Almighty God, would enable him to assist in the realization of all the generous plans of his future employers; and so to act in every situation of life, as to do honour to the precepts of his dear instructor, and to gladden his aged heart, with the knowledge that those precepts had not been given in vain.

Encouraged to self-confidence by the unequivocal approbation of his revered friend, Samboe hesitated not in his determination of accompanying Fitzhugh in his important mission; and a few days subsequent to the interview we have related, was fixed for the departure from a spot, endeared to the affectionate heart of the African by many a tender tie, many an affecting remembrance. Parting moments are painful to experience, and are so fraught with emotion, that they admit not of correct description; it must, therefore, suffice to say, that after a general adieu, and loaded with many a token of affection and good will, cheered by many a blessing, and fortified with many a prayer from those who loved him, Samboe quitted Aberystwith with Fitzhugh and Alfred Roslyn. The intelligence, as well as simplicity of his remarks, upon the different objects which engaged his attention during the journey, rendered it peculiarly interesting to his companions. He was equally delighted with the various objects of curiosity and interest which London presented, and particularly with any thing which enlarged his views of any branch of knowledge he had acquired, or which promised to assist him in his future exertions to benefit his country. Fitzhugh found in him, a companion who entered with ardour and untired zeal into every plan his fertile benevolence devised, and determined to retain him under his own immediate care and inspection. Every day increased his confidence in the abilities and integrity of his companion; and every succeeding day more strongly proved that they were built upon a basis, which ensured their permanence and stability; even that of a rational, a deep, a vital piety.

The period of sailing approached; and happy in the exercise of the best feelings of humanity, and the highest energies of mind, Samboe believed nothing could add to his felicity, when an incident occurred which called forth all his gratitude to the Being who showered his blessings upon him. He accompanied Fitzhugh to the house of a gentleman who was ardent in the cause of the Africans, and who freely lent the resources of an ample fortune to further every beneficent plan, although habitual ill health precluded him from all active exertions. On the arrival of the friends, this gentleman was just mounting his horse for a morning airing. Seeing, however, Fitzhugh and his companion advance, he ordered the groom to lead his horse back to the stable, until his visitors left him, and he then entreated Fitzhugh to enter. While this was passing, a mutual look of surprise and recognition passed between Samboe and the groom, but nothing further: the man leading the horse away, and Samboe following Fitzhugh into the house.

After some conversation relative to the approaching voyage, Mr. Courtney said: “Well, Fitzhugh, you have inspired many an honest heart with the same glowing philanthropy which animates your own; and, amongst the number, my excellent boy, Frank Wilson. He is determined, if you will permit him, to accompany you to Africa.” “Permit him, my good Sir? I shall be happy to have in my service, a young man who does honour to his rank of life, and whose severely tried principles have resisted many attacks: his ingenuity too, and industrious habits, will make him essentially useful. But how can you part from him, or how will Frank bear to be separated from his revered benefactor?”

“Oh, I believe we have not thought of ourselves,” replied Mr. Courtney, good humouredly: “all is settled between us, provided you did not object. Will you permit me to ring for him?” “Most willingly,” said Fitzhugh.

During this short conversation, the emotion of the grateful Samboe was powerful. The features of the young man holding Mr. Courtney’s horse, were familiar to him: he had marked the glance of recognition, and the name confirmed the vague hope he had formed, that, in this young man, of whose character he had just heard so high an eulogium, he had seen the first kind friend he had known in England: he who had lightened his troubles, and cheered his oppressed spirit; and this friend, this generous hearted youth, was going to Africa, and was to be in the service of his valuable friend, Fitzhugh; and they were all animated with the same spirit. How delightful the thought! how transcendently kind the Almighty Disposer!

While these thoughts were rapidly passing the mind of Samboe, Frank Wilson appeared; and it would be hard to decide which of the party was most gratified by the disclosure of the two friends, who in each other’s arms were not ashamed to weep.

Frank immediately entered upon his new duties; and every thing having been benevolently and equitably settled by the directors to ensure the comfort and advantage of the colony, the ships sailed for their destination. It is not necessary to detail the circumstances of the voyage, or to attempt to describe the emotions of the young African, when he landed on his native shores.

Every individual possessing a manly mind and virtuous soul, is patriotic: he rejoices in the weal, he mourns in the miseries of his country. Samboe possessed a manly mind and a virtuous soul. He was a patriot, and shrunk not from its high responsibilities. We detail not his individual exertions; it will be sufficient to say, that he took an ample share with his companions in the good work; that every thing had been so judiciously arranged; that the conduct of the servants of the Company was marked with such propriety, being sober, moral, and exemplary, in the discharge of their respective duties; that the efforts and zeal of the clergymen were attended with the happiest effects; that, before the expiration of two years from the settlement of the colony, order and industry exhibited their benign fruits in a growing prosperity. The fame of the colony not only spread along the whole western coast, but penetrated into the remotest interior: embassies were sent by far distant monarchs; and the native chiefs, with a pleasing and entire confidence, sent their children to the colony, to be instructed in reading, writing, and accounts, and to be initiated in the Christian religion. In fact, there was every reasonable ground for hope, that the joyful period was advancing, when, by the blessing of Heaven upon the endeavours used, the continent of Africa would be rescued from the darkness that obscured her, and would exhibit the soul-cheering scene of light and knowledge, of civilization and order, of peaceful industry and domestic comfort. But these anticipations were destroyed by the treachery and faithlessness of a government, which professed to hold the rights of man as sacred. We shall give a cursory narrative of this event, as extracted from a letter of Fitzhugh to his friends in England. (Note S.)

“I have distressing news to communicate, but we do not despond. The French have appeared with an armed force before our neat and rising town, upon which they have pointed their guns. It was not until they had done this that we perceived they were enemies; for they had English-built vessels, rigged in the English mode, displayed the English flag, and had all the sailors, which appeared on deck, dressed like English sailors. Thus treacherously did they approach our peaceful colony. Conscious we had no strength to resist, the governor directed a flag of truce to be hoisted. Yet, after this order was executed, the French continued to fire on the town, doing much damage, and killing several persons.

“Terrified at the suddenness of the attack, and conscious they possessed no power of resistance, the alarmed inhabitants fled to the woods, with such of their property as the confusion and limited time would allow. When the enemy landed, therefore, they found the town almost destitute of inhabitants, but rich in stores and clothing.

“Plunder was the order of the day; and what they did not want, they destroyed, burnt, or threw into the river. They also killed all the cattle and animals, not sparing even the dogs or cats.

“During a week this work of devastation continued; and when they found nothing more to plunder, they set fire to the public buildings, and all the houses belonging to the Europeans; entirely ruining the beautiful and prospering colony, and leaving the colonists in the most deplorable state of destitution; without provisions, medicines, clothing, houses, or furniture. Sickness soon followed these privations, and many have died for want of proper food, and exposure in the woods.

“When you read the above hurried account of our misfortune, you will scarcely believe that these wanton cruelties have been perpetrated by individuals of a nation, whose Convention boasted of spreading ‘light and liberty through the world.’ Alas! that light is the blaze of anarchy, that liberty the most daring and gross licentiousness!

“Sierra Leone colony was established for the godlike purpose of abolishing the slave-trade; to enlighten the Africans; to render them virtuous, rational, free, and happy; and yet these powerful advocates and patrons of the rights of man, could wantonly destroy, in its healthful infancy, a settlement in which those rights were peculiarly studied and held sacred. ‘By their fruits ye shall know them.’

“But it will yet, like the phoenix, arise from its ashes. It was formed to promote the cause of justice, mercy, and religion; a cause which possesses, in itself, the principle of re-animation—an ever-renewing means of rallying its resources, overborne, for a time, by a base treachery and unmanly violence.

“My faithful Samboe, and no less faithful Frank, have been like ministering angels to the distressed, in this season of calamity. ‘My poor country,’ said Samboe, ‘and my generous friends, what a sad reverse is here! But though grieved,’ he added, ‘I am not in despair; for has not the Almighty said, (He in whom is no variableness nor shadow of turning,) ‘I will never leave nor forsake those who trust in me. Commit thy way unto the Lord, and he shall bring it to pass.’ I cannot conclude my letter better, than by assuring my dear ——, that such is the trust and confidence we all repose in the Being, who out of evil still educes good.”

Now, to resume and conclude our narrative, we have but to say we may speak of these difficulties in the past tense; they no longer, praised be the great Disposer of Events, they no longer are experienced at Sierra Leone; but have vanished, gradually, before the enlightened policy of the superintendants, and the mild influence of Christian doctrine. The enjoyments of the present life, the bright hopes of a future state, are now communicated to thousands of our fellow-creatures, formerly in a state of mental and moral darkness, and obnoxious to the most frightful miseries, victims of the basest passions, subjects of the most alarming fears.

Justice, mercy, and courageous perseverance, are now reaping their high temporal reward; and the blessing of the Almighty upon patient continuance in well-doing, enables England to boast that she has overcome the most inveterate prejudices, the most firmly-established interests, built upon the basest passions; and this by the simple power of experiment, and the eloquence of truth.

Sierra Leone, where this experiment has been made, now presents itself as a medium of civilization for Africa. “And in this point of view, (it has been most justly observed,) is worth all the treasure that has been expended upon it; for the slave-trade, which was the great obstacle to this civilization, being now happily abolished by the universal voice of England, there is now a populous metropolis, from which may issue the seeds of reformation to this injured continent, and which, when sown, may now, watered by the genial dews of heaven, be expected to grow into fruit, without check or blight. New schools may be transplanted from thence into the interior; teachers and travellers be sent from thence in various directions; the natives resort in safety to it from distant parts, mark the improvements, witness the comforts, taste the enjoyments, and feel the protection of it. Hence will mistrust give way to confidence, emulation will be raised, imitation be encouraged, a desire of instruction be excited, and the predatory ignorant savage be gradually moulded into the useful citizen and the rational man.

Let then each English heart rejoice, that the moral stain, so long apparent on our statutes, so long exhibited in our national character, is now erased from the one, and expunged from the other; that the impious doctrine so long contended for, that the law of force was justifiable under certain circumstances, is now banished from the deliberations of our senate; and man, whatever his country, whatever his colour, is restored to his moral rights. Let us rejoice that we have not only been the advocates of the oppressed—have triumphed by perseverance and constancy over the oppressor; but that England has become the favoured and glorious instrument of a God of mercy, to make his light to shine upon those who sat in darkness and the shadow of death. May every nation, feeling the blessing of that light, which is upheld by that mercy, follow the example of our favoured isle! May the rich stream of mercy flow, and diffuse throughout far-distant lands its fertilizing influences! May the spirit of a Wilberforce and a Clarkson, inspire the breasts of the powerful; and may the gratitude and the intelligence of Samboe, glow in the heart, and animate the conduct of every African!

1 See Discourse of the Bishop of London, before the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, October 1817.

Notes, From authenticated and official Documents.

Note A.

The arrival of a slave-ship in any of the rivers, is the signal of civil war and disorder; the hamlets are burned, and the miserable survivors are carried off, and sold to the slave-factors.

In the countries contiguous to Senegal, when slave-ships arrive, armed parties are sent out to scour the country, and bring in captives to the factors. The wretched beings are to be found in the morning, bound back to back in the huts; whence they are conveyed, tied hand and foot, to the slave-ships. These ships set sail in the night, that the wretched captives may not know the moment when they quit for ever their native shore, and all the tender ties that endear it.

Note B.

Coosh-coosh is corn beaten in a wooden mortar, and sifted to a coarse flour; it is then put in an earthen pot pierced like a colander, which is luted to the top of an earthen pot, in which is boiling water, and sometimes broth, exactly as our steamers are. The rising steam cures and hardens the flour; and when it is done sufficiently, the broth and cooked flour are mixed, and considered a delicious dish.

Coliloo resembles, and is eaten like spinach.

Note C.

Slave-factories are established in almost every native village. The kings of Dahomy and Whidáh are the most noted for the infamous trade in slaves. It is usual when the slave-ships lie in the rivers, for a number of canoes to go up the inland: these go in a fleet, with thirty or forty armed natives in each. Every canoe is also furnished with a four or six pounder fastened to her bow. Thus equipped they depart, and are usually absent from eight to fourteen days. It is said they go to fairs held on the banks of the rivers, and at which there is a regular show of slaves. On their return, they generally bring down from eight hundred to a thousand of these captives, for the ships. They lie at the bottom of the canoes, their arms and legs having been bound with ropes of the country. It has been disclosed, by undoubted evidence, that the crews of these canoes go up the rivers till they arrive to a certain distance of a village; they then conceal themselves under the bushes which hang over the water, until the shades of night, when they enter the village and seize the wretched inhabitants, men, women, and children, who have no time to escape.

Nearly three hundred years have the European nations traded with Africa in human flesh, and encouraged in the negro countries, wars, rapine, desolation, and murder. The annual exportation of slaves from this quarter of the globe, has exceeded one hundred thousand; numbers of whom are driven down like sheep, perhaps a thousand miles from the coast, and are generally inhabitants of villages that have been surrounded in the night by armed force, and carried off bound in chains, and sold into perpetual bondage.

A slave-merchant thus wrote to his factor: “You will observe to make a present of five gallons of rum to the Suma, with the usual compliments on the Company’s behalf; and to assure him, and other useful persons near you, of the Company’s intentions to give very great encouragement to trade in those parts, more especially for slaves, dry goods, elephants’ teeth, wax, cotton, &c. and the Company desire me to inform you, that they have settled your commission at five shillings a head, for every merchantable slave, and so in proportion for other articles, in the hope it will encourage you to dispose of their goods to the best advantage.”

Note D.

The following list of African articles, as exhibited to Mr. Pitt and the House of Lords, by Mr. Clarkson, will illustrate the ingenuity of the Africans, and the possibility of making its natural productions a branch of lucrative and legitimate commerce. These articles were contained in a box, formed of four divisions; the first of which was filled with specimens of woods, polished; amongst them, mahogany of five different sorts, tulip and satin-wood, cam and bar-wood, fustic, black and yellow ebony, palm-tree, mangrove, calabash, and date; and also seven species retaining their native names, viz. tumiah, sarnaim, and jimlalié, each of a beautiful yellow; acajou, a deep crimson; bask and quellé for cabinet work; and bentin, the wood of which is used for the native canoes. Various other woods, one of which was a fine purple; and from two others a strong yellow and deep orange, and also a flesh-colour, could be extracted. The second division included ivory; and four species of pepper, the long, the black, the Cayenne, and the Malaguetta: three species of gum, Senegal, copal, and ruber astringes; cinnamon, rice, tobacco, indigo, white and Nankin cotton, Guinea-corn, and millet; three species of beans, of which two were for food, and the other yielding an orange dye: two species of tamarinds, one for food, the other to give whiteness to the teeth: pulse, seeds, and fruits of various sorts; some of the latter of which, Dr. Sparrman had pronounced, from a trial made during his residence in Africa, to be peculiarly valuable as drugs.

The third division contained an African loom, with a spindle and spun cotton round it; cloths of cotton of various kinds, made by the natives, some white, others dyed, and others, in which they had interwoven European silk; cloths and bags of grass, fancifully coloured; ornaments of the same material; ropes made from a species of aloes, and others, remarkably strong, from grass and straw; fine string made of the fibres of the roots of trees: soap of two kinds, one of which was formed from an earthy substance: pipe bowls made of a clay of a brown red, one beautifully ornamented with black devices, burnt in and highly glazed; another from Galám, made of an earth which was richly impregnated with little particles of gold. Trinkets made by the natives from their own gold; knives and daggers formed from bar iron; and various other articles, such as bags, dagger-sheaths, quivers, gris gris, all of leather, of native manufacture, dyed of various colours, and ingeniously sewed together. The fourth division contained the instruments of confinement used on board a slave-ship, to which were added those of punishment used in the colonies; such as iron collars, manacles, scourges, &c.

(Note E.)

Raynal gives the following description of the mode frequently used in conducting the slaves from the interior: “Slave-merchants collect themselves into companies, and forming a species of caravans, in the space of two or three hundred leagues, they conduct several files of thirty or forty slaves, all laden with water, corn, &c. which are necessary to their subsistence in those barren deserts through which they pass.

“The manner of securing them without much incommoding their march, is ingeniously contrived. A fork of wood, of from eight or nine feet long, is put round the neck of each slave. A pin of iron, rivetted, secures the fork on the back part, in such a manner that the head cannot disengage itself. The handle of the fork, the wood of which is very heavy, falls before, and so embarrasses the person who is tied to it, that, although he hath his arms and legs at liberty, he can neither walk nor lift up the fork. When they get ready for the march, they range the slaves in a line, and support and tie the extremity of each fork on the shoulder of the foremost slave, and proceed in this manner from one to another, till they come to the first, the extremity of whose fork is carried by the guide. Few restraints are imposed, that are not felt by those who impose them; accordingly, in order that these traders may enjoy the refreshment of sleep without uneasiness, they tie the arms of every slave to the tail of the fork which he carries. In this condition he can neither run away, nor make any attempt to recover his liberty. These precautions have been found indispensable; because, if the slave can but break his chains, he becomes free. The public faith which secures to the proprietor the possession of his slave, and which at all times delivers him up into his hands, is silent with regard to the slave and a trader.

“Reader,” continues the animated historian, “while thou art perusing this horrid account, is not thy soul filled with the same indignation as I experience in writing it? Dost thou not, in imagination, rush with fury upon those infamous conductors? Dost thou not break those forks with which these unfortunates are confined? and dost thou not long to restore them to liberty?

(Note F.)

This instrument is also in general use in Congo, and is there called the marimba.

Notes G–P and possibly a part of note F are missing in the scanned pages from which this ebook was prepared.

(Note Q.)

The profits of this nefarious trade are so large, that mercenary men will incur any risk. At present, says the Report, 1822, speaking of the French favouring the trade, the rate of insurance does not exceed fifteen or twenty per cent, while the gains of the trade are proved to amount to from two hundred to four hundred per cent. It appears, from papers found on board Le Succès, that two hundred and forty slaves, which she landed on the island of Bourbon, cost nine thousand nine hundred and forty-three dollars; and that the proceeds of the sale of these slaves amounted to twenty-nine thousand five hundred and sixty-four dollars. And there is also an account of an outfit of fifty-three thousand francs producing a net profit of one hundred and sixty-six thousand francs.

These facts need no comment. But let not England be discouraged: she has stood alone in many a fearful struggle, when apparently sinking under the pressure of a hostile world. She has led the way in the work of mercy; let her pursue her path with unfaltering firmness, and fearlessly oppose those who dare to violate the solemn engagements they have formed with her.

(Note R.)

Nothing can more forcibly prove the misery of the slaves, than the fact that funerals, which in Africa are attended by lamentations and sorrow, are in the West Indies celebrated with expressions of joy.

(Note S.)

This relation is derived from a letter of Mr. Arfelius who was an eye-witness, and a great sufferer from this treacherous attack upon the colony. See “Rees’s Encyclopedia,” article, Sierra Leone.

THE END.

Harvey, Darton, and Co. Printers, Gracechurch-Street, London.

Table of Contents

- Advertisement.     v
- Chapter I.     1
- Chapter II.     18
- Chapter III.     35
- Chapter IV.     53
- Chapter V.     66
- Chapter VI.     76
- Chapter VII.     82
- Chapter VIII.     94
- Chapter IX.     110
- Chapter X.     130
- Chapter XI.     141
- Chapter XII.     157

- Notes, From authenticated and official Documents.

- Note A.

- Note B.

- Note C.

- Note D.

- (Note E.)

- (Note F.)

- (Note Q.)

- (Note R.)

- (Note S.)

Colophon

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15 | eat | ate
17 | situate | situated
33 | , | [Deleted]
35 | Insiduous | Insidious
61, 61 | [Not in source] | ”
65 | Christain | Christian
82 | VI | VII
86 | , | .
94 | VII | VIII
108 | it | its
110 | VIII | IX
120 | [Not in source] | .
130 | IX | X
141 | X | XI
150 | ; | :
157 | XI | XII.
162 | determition | determination
171 | ‘ | [Deleted]
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Table of Contents

- Advertisement.

- Samboe; Or, The African Boy. Chapter I.

- Chapter II.

- Chapter III.

- Chapter IV.

- Chapter V.

- Chapter VI.

- Chapter VII.

- Chapter VIII.

- Chapter IX.

- Chapter X.

- Chapter XI.

- Chapter XII.

- Notes, From authenticated and official Documents.

- Note A.

- Note B.

- Note C.

- Note D.

- (Note E.)

- (Note F.)

- (Note Q.)

- (Note R.)

- (Note S.)

- Table of Contents

- Colophon

- Availability
- Encoding
- Revision History
- External References
- Corrections

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE