Chapter IV: A Walk Round Whydah (1)

The three following days enabled us to study the topography of Whydah. The present town stands about 1·50-2 direct miles north of the sea; separated from the shore by a broad leek-green swamp, by a narrow lagoon, and by a high sandbank, whose tufted palms and palmyras, of a deep invisible green approaching black, form a hogsback, over which the masts of shipping only can be seen from the houses. The site wears the tricolour of S’a Leone,—light and milky-blue sky, verdigris grass, and bright red argillaceous soil, with a blending shade of grey. The “ferruginous-looking clay,” which in India and China has been suspected of emitting a “pestiferous mineral gas,” and of causing the “_cachexia loci_,” seems here to lose part of its injurious power. The town is not exceedingly unhealthy, despite its extreme filth, and although the deep holes from which the building material has been extracted are as great a nuisance as in Abeokuta and Sokoto. Indeed, as a rule, it is less deadly than other places on the Slave Coast, especially Lagos and Badagry. The nights are cool, and the day-breeze is, if anything, somewhat too strong for safety. At this season the people do not suffer from mosquitoes, “much provoking the exercise of a man’s nails,” as the old traveller has it.

Beneath the surface soil there is a substratum of pure white sand overlying argil deeply tinctured with iron oxide from the northern hills; and another bed of pure sand is supported by white clay to a depth of thirty-five feet: it is supposed that below this figure marine deposits would occur. The highest part of the town, that is to say the west end, is not more than forty feet above the sea, and this we may assume to be the height of the first floor of the English Fort, which lies about the centre. After a shower the land is as viscid and muddy as that about Upper Norwood, and such indeed is the condition of the whole country, especially at Kana and in the capital. The earth when powdered, puddled, and exposed to the sun, becomes hard like bricks, which could be made, but which are not wanted. The old English fort has lasted upwards of a century.

The greatest length of the town, which extends from south-east to north- west, is about two miles by half a mile in depth. There is no attempt at fortification, as there is in the capital; but every house could be held against musketry. From the beach a few of the tallest habitations, backed by giant trees, meet the view, and prepare the visitor for something grandiose. The squalor within, however, contrasts sharply with the picturesque aspect from without. Whydah is a ruined place, everything showing decay, and during the last three years, it has changed much for the worse. As in all Yoruba towns, the houses are scattered, and, except round the principal market-place, there is far more bush than building. The environs are either marshes or fields, palm-orchards, or bosquets of great but savage beauty; the fine and highly-cultivated farms found near Whydah by Mr. Duncan[44] no longer exist.

The population of the town, which could accommodate 50,000 souls, is variously estimated. Some have raised it to 30,000. Dr. M‘Leod (1803) calculates 20,000. M. Wallon (1858) proposes 20,000-25,000, but he is by no means a correct observer. The French Mission, which has perhaps the best chance of ascertaining the truth, lays down the number at 12,000; and during war this may be reduced to half. The Christians (Catholics) exceed 600; about 200 boys are known to the missionaries, and on an average during the year the latter baptise 110. The fathers are also of opinion that the population diminishes.

The word “Whydah” is a compound of blunders. It should be written Hwe- dah,[45] and be applied to the once prosperous and populous little kingdom whose capital was Savi. A “bush town” to the westward, supposed to have been founded and to be still held by the aboriginal Whydahs, who fled from the massacres of Dahome, still retains the name Hwe-dah. The celebrated slave-station which we have dubbed “Whydah,” is known to the people as Gre-hwe or Gle-hwe,[46] “Plantation-house.”

A very brief _résumé_ of its stirring past is here necessary. According to tradition, Whydah, as I shall still call it, was originally a den of water-thieves and pirates, who paid unwilling allegiance to the kings of Savi. About the middle of the seventeenth century it rose to the rank of a prosperous ivory mart and slave port. In 1725, it was first attacked by Agaja the Conqueror, fourth King of Dahome, the Guadja Trudo of the History, nominally for selling to him muskets without locks, really because, like all African monarchs, the height of his ambition was a point on the seaboard where he could trade direct with Europeans. The place after capture was called by him “plantation-house,” meaning that it must supply food to Agbome the capital. So the History informs us the King of Eyeo (Oyo) used to say that Ardrah (Allada) was “Eyeo’s Calabash,” out of which nobody should be permitted to eat but the king himself.

The Europeans, ever greedy of change in these dull lands, seem at first to have favoured Dahome against Whydah. For which reason, and because they are officially called “King’s Houses,” the Forts receive certain honours. Before the Viceroy can leave the town, and when he returns to it,[47] he must visit them officially in person, and he must pray at the Portuguese Fort, which is held to be the head-quarters of the white man’s faith. He enters with his suite, and as the King’s representative, he wears his sword; this, however, as well as the fetishes with which he is hung round, must, previous to the function, be removed. Before the present establishment was sent, the black priests at Whydah used to offer him holy water; now it is refused, and he walks to the font to _barbouiller_ his face; the missioners perform prayers, but without their sacramental robes, and he follows suit to the best of his ability. The King often sends a message requesting the orisons of the white men, which are not refused to him; and Christianity being a recognised religion in Dahome, on the day of S. John—midsummer—he transmits by his Viceroy a pot of oil and a bottle of rum as his acknowledgment of faith. These viceregal visits have at times been dangerous: in 1745, the Eunuch Yevo-gan “Tanga,” raising the standard of revolt, proposed to seize the English Fort, and was prevented only by the vigilance of the governor, Mr. Gregory. Offences committed in the “King’s houses” are visited with a double penalty; a native stealing from them will surely be put to death: on the other hand, he may take sanctuary in and cannot be ejected from the Portuguese Fort without the consent of the missioners. The English Fort has the shameful distinction of being protected by two fetishes, Dohen and Ajaruma, the Defenders of White men.[48]

Whydah, like the capital, is a congeries of villages divided into five “salams” or quarters, each under its own caboceer, and governed by the Viceroy, who has dwarfed the minor officials to mere captains. These are

1. Ahwanjigo, or Salam Français, on the north-west and west, French Town, directly under the Viceroy.

2. Ajudo, Ajido Chacha, or Brazilian Town, under the captain, Nodofré.

3. Sogbáji, or English town: it has no governor; the King urged me to take it, but I declined, without receiving orders from home.

4. Dukomen, Portuguese Town, on the east and west, under the Caboceer Bonyon. These four quarters have their forts[49]: the last is

5. Zóbeme, or Market town, lately under the Caboceer Nyonun, whose successor will be presently appointed.

I now propose to conduct the reader through the town, and to describe its principal sites.

Beginning from the south-east, we remark the De-nun or toll-house which guards the entrance of every Dahoman town, and the multitude of little fetish huts, where the trader, after doing his devoir to the King, is expected to be not less dutiful to the gods. The streets are mere continuations of the bush-paths, but except in the wettest weather, they are not bad walking after Sandy Lagos. They are formed by the walls of the compounds and by the backs of the houses, which are all built in a uniform manner. The material is the red _pisé_ of Britanny and Sind heaped up in three or four courses, but by law never more: each course is from a foot and a half to two feet high; the material has neither straw nor stone, but sometimes, as in Popo, oyster-shell is used to strengthen it. Each layer is covered during erection with a weather thatch, and is left to dry, for three days in a harmattan, and for ten in the wet seasons: it presently hardens to the consistency of freestone, and is, in fact, the national _adobe_. The rain torrents wash away the softer parts, and cut cracks down the sides if not protected from above: a certain mixture of salt in the soil causes the base to crumble the more readily, because here they do not, as on the Gold Coast, support it by growing cactus. A careful man repairs his wall in the early “dries.” The establishments are extensive, sometimes covering acres. I saw only one being built, whilst many allowed me to walk over the broken-down walls, and almost all were externally in ruins. As in Asiatic Turkey, however, the interior often belies the wretched exterior, and behind the blown-off thatch, leaving bare ribs and poles perilously protruding, there are snug inner rooms. The poorer classes have compounds of matting. The roof, not unlike that of an East Indian bungalow, is made of palm, palmyra, and thick grass, mounted on a frame of lopped and cleaned branches, with girders of bamboo; and often it is raised in the “flying” form, to secure coolness. There are no windows, except in the Forts. Their places are taken by doors opening under the projecting eaves, that rest upon stout posts and trunks, especially those of the valuable and abundant palmyra.

Striking into the main street, the tolerably straight road, which, running from east to west, bisects the town, we sight the Portuguese fort, the smallest but the best situated for quiet and coolness. Of these buildings there are now four at Whydah, in order of seniority, French, Brazilian, English, and Portuguese. The first-named people began the trade, and the second is probably erected upon the old Dutch factory, although the name is clean forgotten. The Brandenburgher (Prussian) African Company also built a strong factory at Whydah in 1684, but it long ago disappeared. With the exception of the Brazilian Fort, all these buildings lie in a line from E.S.E. to W.N.W.: after the stone defences of the Gold Coast, these swish establishments are by no means imposing, and, except in the case of the Frenchman, for “Fort” we must read “Factory” or “School.”

The Portuguese Fort is surrounded by a moat, whose depth is concealed by a mass of vegetation: the people of the country prefer for defence a ditch in this state. The defences, a square compound bastioned at the angles, and the battery of rusty guns, are here purposely neglected. The main building, a large double-storied house, with walls thick as an old Norman castle, fronts westward. Lately repaired, it has a central saloon flanked by dormitories, and a long refectory on the ground-floor. It is pierced with a deep hollow gateway, protected outside by two honeycombed guns. Over it is the Lusitanian scutcheon, minus the wooden crown, which perished during a late fire. Portuguese ordinances are still affixed to the door, and at the Southern bastion the blue and white flag yet flies on high days and holidays. In the compound are a detached chapel and belfry with two bells, dateless, but belonging to the former occupants: both are of swish work, and their mat roofs are distinguished from afar by two little wooden crosses. On the north and fronting the chapel is a range of small ground-floor rooms and refectory. These the missionaries find less unhealthy, curious to say, than the double-storied building, where, they assert, the sea-breeze gives them fever. They have been careful, however, to dig under their _pian’ terreno_, and to lay down a board flooring, whilst they look forward to raising houses on piles six feet high with a draught of air beneath. All is industry in this “Fort,” a garden and a southern range of buildings are being made, quarters for the workmen and school-children are already available, and the church and belfry are considered to be merely temporary.

The “Vicariat Apostolique de Dahomé,” was erected by the Holy Father in 1860, and its spiritual direction was entrusted to the new congregation of the African Missions, whose mother-house is at Lyons, 243, Rue de la Guillotière. In 1860 the congregation of the Propaganda named as superior of this mission the priest François Borghero, of Genoa, member of the congregation of African Missions, whose superior-general, residing at Lyons, is M. l’Abbé Augustin Planque, of Lille. The first despatch of missionaries left Toulon, January 3rd, 1861, on board H.I.M.S. Amazone. It was composed of Messrs. les Abbés F. Borghero (Italian), François Fernandez, a Spaniard of the diocese of Lugo, in Galicia (died in 1863, at Whydah), and Louis Eddé, a Frenchman of the diocese of Chatres (he died _en route_ at S’a Leone). The two first named arrived at Whydah April 18th, 1861; on May 6th of the same year they took possession of their present “Fort,” by permission of the Dahoman authorities, and with the consent of the Portuguese resident at Whydah. Since the departure of M. Iréné Lafitte, who is intended for one of the European establishments, the _personnel_ is composed of six members.[50] There are ten boarders; the number of the other scholars greatly varies, because the boys attend or stay away as they please. Of adults, I do not believe that a single convert has been made; and the reverend fathers would do well to turn their attention towards Lagos and Abeokuta.

This Vicariat is not obnoxious to the charge commonly brought against Catholic establishments, namely, that though ardent, enduring, and self- sacrificing, they are too accommodating to heathenism, and thus they are unabiding; whilst Protestant missions, like the constitution which hatches them, are respectable, comfortable, and feeble, offering salaries to married men, who in squabbles about outfit, passage, furlough, and conveyance of children, manage to spend about £500,000 per annum. Their uncompromising opposition of idolatry has more than once brought the members into trouble. In November, 1861, M. Borghero visited the King at Agbome, and the list of his demands may be found in the published account of his journey to the capital.[51] In March, 1863, the fort was struck by the lightning-god, Khevioso, the Shango of the Egbas; and they are not wanting who suppose that the fetishes, having been worsted in dispute by the Padres, took the opportunity of a storm to commit the arson. As the inmates impiously extinguished the fire, they were heavily fined; and, on refusing to pay, the Father-superior was imprisoned. In June of the same year occurred another dispute, about a sacred snake that was unceremoniously ejected from the mission premises, and doubtless this anti-heathenism will bring them to further grief. They look upon things _en noir_, and naturally desire, but with little hope, to see Whydah in civilized hands. I found them intelligent, amiable, and devoted men, in whose society time sped pleasantly and profitably. To the excellent Superior especially I had reason to be grateful for the loan of vocabularies and other papers. If I say too little, it is for fear of expressing too much.

Near the French Mission, and at the south-eastern end of the town, is the establishment of M. J. Domingo Martinez, the best house in “Whydah.” The compound walls are, to obviate fire, tiled, not thatched, and a small grove of orange trees enlivens the interior. There is an old ground-floor tenement, by no means uncomfortable, with large, lofty, and cool rooms, furnished with musical boxes[52] and other knick-knacks, whilst portraits and oil-painting, rarities in unartistic Africa, depend from the walls; and near it a large double-storied tenement, also tiled, is being built as a dwelling-place and as a store for oil trading.

When I last called upon M. Martinez he had been unwell for some weeks: Mr. Cruikshank, who was consulted, did not think his case dangerous. He died January 25th, 1864, when we were at the capital, and the death was brought on by a fit of passion—not an uncommon occurrence in these hot- tempered lands.[53] He had long been virtually king of Kutunun, a little post inland of Jackin, on the Denham waters, and of late much coveted by the new “Protectors” of Porto Novo. The latter managed their dollars so well, that the King sent his cane to M. Martinez, and a polite message, to say that his friend would presently be joined by a brother white man. At first the recipient stared aghast; soon understanding the trick, he was seized with a trembling of passion; he presently fainted, and he died the same night, I presume of apoplexy.

M. Martinez was a caboceer of Dahome, entitled to the umbrella, the chair, and the other insignia of his order. During his later years he has often said—and many a man has had, and will have, to say the same—that he had learned these people too late. The King claiming _droit d’aubaine_ over the property of all his defunct subjects, the key of M. Martinez’s house was at once, after his death, appropriated by the Viceroy of Whydah. He has left a large family, all by native women. His eldest son, Domingo Rafael Martinez, is a youth about twenty; he is not uneducated, speaking English and French, although his father thought it best to keep him in irons for some years, and thus unteach him the use of the knife. It will be well for the heir if the deceased has left a “bag” at Bahia.

M. Martinez is a sore loss to the slaving interest. A dozen years ago there were at Whydah 200 Spaniards and Portuguese, including Brazilians and half-castes. By glancing his eye below, the reader will see how much the number of these “slave consumers” is reduced.[54] And the next decade will find all the survivors engaged in cotton or in palm-oil—the “doulometer of the slave-trade”—or in nothing.

M. Martinez had his good points: he was always courteous and hospitable, even to his bitterest enemies, the English; moreover, to his praise be it spoken, he invariably, like the first Chacha, de Souza, discountenanced native cruelties and human sacrifice. He befriended the Church Mission in 1846, when hopelessly stranded at Badagry, and, being a slaver, he gained, as might be expected, little gratitude. Peace to his manes, and may he escape the Dahoman Deadland, where I much doubt that he would be warmly welcomed!

Passing along the main street we now enter the Zóbeme,[55] or Great Market, one of the Whydah “lions.” It is, or rather was, a long thoroughfare, covering at least an acre, with offsets, cross streets, and here and there a cleared space. The booths are low, square, open thatch-sheds, raised upon _chabutaras_ or benches of well-worked red clay, about one foot above the passages. They are either joined or in broken lines, and all are kept clean with _bois de vache_. A detached hut proclaims the gin palace; the material,—bottles and decanters of Brazilian rum and cheap French liqueurs, with glasses of all sizes,—stands on white cloths, and business seems to be brisk. Nor are the victualling arrangements less complete; half the shops contain either raw or cooked provisions, and many a “working man” breakfasts and dines in the alley. This rude bazar is fullest at 4 P.M., when swarms of people, especially women, meet to buy and sell, “swap” and barter all the requirements of semi-civilized life. For the articles most in vogue, I may refer the reader to a previous publication,[56] and almost any book of travels treating of the countries of the Upper Niger will show him how far the system is capable of being carried out. At Whydah, as at Bombay and Aden, the prices have increased, or rather have doubled, during the last ten years; and despite the complaints of commercial depression, the value of coin still diminishes. It is a curious contrast, the placidity and impassiveness with which the seller, hardly taking the trouble to remove her pipe, drawls out the price of her two- cowrie lots, and the noisy excitement of the buyers, who know that they must purchase and pay the demand. There is no lack of civility to us amongst the people, and the children cheer and jeer White Face without any awe. The two normal African complexions, red-yellow and brown-black, are very distinct at Whydah, and here and there we meet features which might belong to an ugly Sinaitic Badawi. There are also palpable traces of Caucasian blood in what the Anglo-Indian lady called “European infantry,” a parody upon the “European infamy” of the garrison chaplain.

The only picturesque part of the market-place is to the Eastward, where there is a hutless space, lined with shady trees, especially the Hun-ti, or Bombax, under which the vendors congregate in the glare of the day. Conspicuous for its beauty is the Lisé tree, which the Fantis of the Gold Coast call Akyen. The Portuguese have named it the “African cashew.” Tall, thick, and with the darkest green foliage, it is set off by studs of scarlet apples depending from long stalks. The fruit, which is eaten at Agbome, is insipid, as are almost all wild growths, and not a little like a raw turnip. The flower gives a delicious perfume, and the wood supplies good potash for soap. The other trees are mostly thick-leaved oranges and limes, whilst the hedges are of the malarious croton (_Croton tiglium_), which here, as in Yoruba generally, attains the rankest dimensions.

It is impossible at Whydah to mistake the religiousness of the Pagan, though we vainly look for any trace of human relics. Even in the bazar, many a hut will be girt round with the Zo Vodun,[57] a country rope with dead leaves dangling to it at spaces of 20 feet. _After_ a conflagration this Fetish fire prophylactic becomes almost universal. Opposite the house-gates again we find the Vo-sisa defending the inmates from harm. It is of many shapes, especially a stick or a pole, with an empty old calabash for a head, and a body composed of grass thatch, palm leaves, fowl’s feathers, and achatinæ shells. These people must deem lightly of an evil influence that can mistake, even in the dark, such a scarecrow for a human being. Near almost every door stands the Legba-’gban, or Legba-pot, by Europeans called the “Devil’s Dish.[58]” It is a common clay shard article, either whole or broken, and every morning and evening it is filled, generally by women, with cooked maize and palm- oil, for the benefit of the turkey-buzzard (_Percnopter niger_), like the Pinda offered to Hindu crows. “Akrasu,[59]” the vulture, is next to the snake, the happiest animal in Dahome. He has always an abundance of food, like storks, robins, swallows, crows, adjutant cranes, and other holy birds in different parts of the world. He may not be killed with impunity, and he rarely loses his life except on the most solemn occasions. The knowledge of his safety renders him so tame that he will refresh himself among the poultry; and gorged with daily banquets, the “beast of a bird” will hardly deign to take wing before being trodden upon; I have seen him eating amongst the crowd before the King’s tent, and half ready to show fight if interrupted. When hungry, he seems always to consider you as if you were butcher’s meat.

Travellers abuse this “obscene fowl,” forgetting that without it the towns of Yoruba would be uninhabitable. Moreover, except after a meal of carrion, it has by no means the “foul aspect” which Commander Forbes ascribes to it, nor is its “familiarity” at all “sickening.” The fact is, that officer saw human sacrifice everywhere, although the rite never takes place at Whydah, the condemned being sent up to the capital for execution. The turkey-buzzard perched on the topmost stick of a blasted calabash tree, is to unromantic material Africa what the pea-fowl, weather-cocking the tall Mawri is to more engaging Asia. It always struck me as the most appropriate emblem and heraldic bearing for decayed Dahome.

The new comer must not confound the “Vulture’s dish” with another display of earthenware. Places are consecrated by planting dwarf flags round a forked stick, or round a tree cut down to a reversed tripod, which supports a red clay pot or pot cover. Upon this the passers-by deposit a little food or palm-oil, and sometimes cabalistic messes, to bring luck or to ward off danger.

Legba himself is a horrid spectacle. A mass of red clay is roughly moulded by the clumsy, barbarous artist into an imitation man, who is evidently like Jupiter,

A devil of a god for following the girls.

The figure is at squat, crouched, as it were, before its own attributes, with arms longer than a gorilla’s, huge feet, and no legs to speak of. The head is of mud or wood, rising conically to an almost pointed poll; a dab of clay represents the nose; the mouth is a gash from ear to ear, and the eyes and teeth are of cowries, or painted ghastly white. This deity almost fills a temple of dwarf thatch, open at the sides. In nine cases out of ten he has returned, human-like, to an undistinguishable heap of dust, but it would be sacrilege to remove the sacred rubbish. Legba is of either sex, but rarely feminine. Of the latter I have seen a few, which are even more horrid than the male; the breasts project like the halves of a German sausage, and the rest is to match. In this point Legba differs from the classical Pan and the Lampsacan god,[60] but the idea involved is the same. The Dahoman, like almost all semi-barbarians, considers a numerous family the highest blessing, and fatherlessness the greatest curse in mundane life, and what men think in these lands must be minded by women. The peculiar worship of Legba consists of propitiating his or her characteristics by unctions of palm-oil. The “Anatinkpo,” or knotted clubs planted around the figure with their knobs in the air, are possibly derived from Oshé, the weapon of the Egba “Shango.[61]”

Issuing from the bazar to westward, we pass on the right a large ruinous tenement, built by a quadroon merchant, Mr. Hutton, of Cape Coast Castle, whose “Gothic House” there has just been converted into Government quarters. After he was drowned on the Dago bar (1857), this place was sold to a Spaniard, known only as D. Juan, who presently perished, of course by poison, at Badagry. As the last proprietor owed 200 dollars to the king, it then became royal demesne.

We are now at the English factory, which will require description; it has played a conspicuous part in local politics, and it may perchance do so again. Williams Fort, as it is called in old writings, was built for the Royal African Company of England, by Captain Wiburne, brother to Sir John Wiburne; its foundation is, therefore, nearly two centuries old. In Barbot’s[62] day (1700) it was 100 yards square, with four large earthen flankers, mounting twenty-one good guns; the trench, crossed by a drawbridge of boards spread on beams, was 20 ft. deep by 18 ft. wide, and its establishment consisted of twenty whites and one hundred gromettos, or slaves, attached to English Town, under the orders of a governor. The old traveller places it three miles from the water-side, between the Danish fort (now quite forgotten) on the west, and within half-a-mile of the French and Dutch Forts. In its day it has sheltered, under Governor Tinker, the King of Whydah, when Savi, his capital, was taken by Dahome; Governor Wilson gave protection to Ossue, the leader of the Whydahs and Popos; rash Governor Testesole was, by orders of the Great King, murdered, and some say eaten; Governor Gregory defended it against Tanga, the rebel; brave Governor Goodson, by the fire of his fort won back Whydah for Dahome; Governor Abson here lived thirty-seven years, and left behind him Sally, of tragical end; stout Mr. Hamilton procured the release of Dr. M‘Leod, and Governor James, the younger of that name, who succeeded the two former, is still known as the King’s friend.

The shape of the enceinte is a square or parallelogram, enclosing several acres, surrounded by a well-grown moat, and formerly defended at the angles by once round bastions, with their rusty guns, a total of twenty-four carronades still lying there and about the court. Even in 1803, we are told that only three or four of the cannon were sound enough to be used in saluting, the others being so honeycombed and corroded that those firing them would have been in more danger than those fired at. The compound is divided into unequal parts by a wall running from east to west; to the north where a garden should be, there is a foul Fetish figure throned amidst a mass of filth,—yet the people wonder that they suffer from smallpox and measles! The main building, fronting south, to catch the sea-breeze, is a huge half-whitewashed barn, red and crumbling below, with a ragged, tattered pent-roof thatch above; the walls pierced with irregular shuttered holes, are 4 ft. thick, and the “great hall[63]” and five dwarf rooms inside suggest comparison with the _ab externo_ size of the edifice. The interior is as shabby as the exterior, the floors yawn wide, and the ceiling threatens to fall. As usual in these buildings, there is but one entrance, a gloomy and cavernous gateway, like the Arab’s “barzah,” under the main building. The barton between the house and Fetish-ground contains out- houses and offices for servants and followers; a well, which at times fails; instead of “steeple house” a shingled chapel, which is also school-room; a “cook-house” (not a kitchen); a bathing-place, bachelor’s quarters, four rows of umbrella trees, under whose shade is the usual trellised arbour, and the old “Hog-yard,” which name, however, is now forgotten.

The Hog-yard is a square detached house in the centre of the enceinte, near the old circular powder-magazine; it derives its peculiar appellation from the fact that white men were buried here. The founder of the fort, Captain Wiburne, was the first tenant, and it has been since used as a family vault for the servants of the “Company.” Captain Thomas Phillips tells us a characteristic tale of this institution. A Mr. Smith, the chief factor, being sick, one of the kings of Whydah insisted upon sending a Fetish priest to his relief. The reverend man, carrying brandy, rum, rice, oil, and other creature comforts, entered the Hog-yard, and thus addressed the deaf and dumb inmates:

“O ye dead whites that live here! you have a mind to have with you this factor that is sick, but he is a friend to the King, who loves him, and who will not part with him as yet!”

Then, repairing to Captain Wiburne’s grave, he cried out:

“O thou captain of all the dead whites that lie here! this is thy doing: thou wouldst have this man from us to bear thee company, because he is a good man, but our King will not part with him, and thou shalt not have him yet!”

Thus saying, the holy man made a hole over the grave, and poured in the various articles which he had brought with him, telling the ghostly tenant that if he wanted those things, they were all there for him, but the factor he must not expect and should not have.

The historian goes on to say that the Englishmen present, disgusted by this mummery, kicked the Fetisheer out of the fort, and that Mr. Smith incontinently died,—a proof stronger than any Holy Writ to the negro mind that black man’s “medicine he be good.”

In the Hog-yard also reposes Mr. James, called by the natives “Huze- huze.” In December and January, when the Whydah Fetish fêtes take place, the native priests flock with drums to perform idolatrous rites at his grave.

I summoned the Caboceers, and protested against these proceedings in the capital of English Town.[64] They of course promised to report my objections to the King, and certainly thought no more about the matter. The English Fort at Whydah is a scandal, morally and physically. Compared with the French Mission, it gives exactly the measure of difference between the white man and the mulatto,—even in these lands, where climate is so much against the former. The Wesleyan Mission should be ashamed of it. A few hundred pounds would make the place respectable, by the expulsion of the Fetish, and by the restoration of a building which has now passed out of government’s hands. The sound of psalmody is certainly not wanting, indeed, the “holloaing of anthems,” as Falstaff calls it, is _satis superque_; and besides the school-children, there are nearly a score of he-fellows—schoolmaster, cook, barber, tailor, interpreter, and others—loafing and lounging about the court and arbour. They should be made at least to work their cost in salt. I only hope that an English Company will, at some not distant day, take the restoration in hand.

In 1842-43, the Wesleyan Mission was nominally established at Whydah by Mr. T. B. Freeman, the “Bishop of the Gold Coast,” and Mr. Dawson, the companion of his travels. Eleven years afterwards they were followed by the Reverend Mr. Bernasko, the present principal and the sole occupant of the English Fort, accompanied by a Mr. Laing, now doing duty at Annamaboe. They began by a _mélange_ of commerce and conversion, which was far from being favourably received by King Gezo. Perhaps for that reason they have been taken _en amitié_ by his royal son. Gelele has given over to them six youths, sons of the old fort slaves of the English Town; he will not, however, allow the number to be increased. The total of the congregation is a dozen men, mostly Fantis, and all coloured. The school-muster greatly varies: for when I was last there, it numbered forty-six pupils, of whom twenty-three were boarders, including the human presents given according to custom by the King to his various visitors at Agbome. Amongst others under the charge of Mrs. Bernasko, is “Jane,” popularly called the Commodore’s Wife, a huge porpoise, a female Daniel Lambert, and a fair match for three men. There also are the two girls, “one about twelve, the other sixteen, very pretty and intelligent,[65]” dashed at Agbome to Captain Wilmot for education in England. Tastes in the matter of beauty differ. I found “Amelia,” the younger, aged at least sixteen, and an uncommonly plain and dingy specimen; whilst “Emma,” the elder, had passed eighteen, and wore an expression of intense stupidity, combined with the external development of a female “Legba.” They are thus too old to learn, and in these days it is not so easy as it was to become African “princesses.” Finally, neither of them can be termed Dahoman,—the former is an Ishaggan, and the latter is a Makhi captive.

For the English name in these parts, I am sorry to see Mr. Bernasko so situated. He has small pay, a large family, and many calls upon his purse. But it draws down contempt upon a faith when its teachers are compelled to trade for their livelihood, and to keep within a few yards of their chapel a shop in which cloth and pottery, rum and ammunition, are sold.

Passing out of the English Fort, we see in front and on the off side of “Main Street,” two brick pillars inclined like the leaning towers of Bologna, and showing where once was the factory garden. Here grew the orange-grove alluded to by Dr. M‘Leod, and the thin tamarind under which Governor Abson was buried. It has long been abandoned to the weeds, and a dozen sheep and goats now pick a scanty meal. On the right hand and to the south-west of William’s Fort, is a large ruined establishment that belonged to Ignacio de Souza, a son of the original Chacha. He fell into disgrace four to five years ago, under the suspicion of having reported to a British cruiser the intended departure of a slaver, and he mysteriously disappeared. His property was “broken” by the “Don-pwe people[66]” here, a sign of complete and irretrievable ruin. It is a custom borrowed from the old kings of Whydah. The house has lately been granted by the King to a Mr. Craft, a mulatto, not a negro, as his semi- scientific auditors at Newcastle firmly believe him to be. The repairs will cost about £600, but this agent to the new “Company of African Merchants” says that he will easily make it pay. _Però veremos!_

Bending towards the north of the English Fort, we pass through a large empty space now being cleared of grass for the Christmas “play.” It shows a big tree-grown hole whose earth has been excavated for building, and a central shed erected by the present King for his “Blue” guards to marshal, dance, drink, and settle the palavers peculiar to their corps. The “Blues” outside the palace, also called “English Company,” correspond with the “Fanti company” of women inside: they are held to be body-guards, but they are not regulars. For this reason it is called, after one of the royal houses at the capital, Jegbe.

Beyond this square is a dark circular clump of giant trees,—splendid figs, calabashes, and bombaxes rising from a dense bush which doubtless has witnessed many a deed of darkness. One would suppose that they were fetished to preserve them; but the Tree and the Ocean, as well as the Snake, formed of old the peculiar cultus of Whydah. At its eastern end is the second lion of the town, and a very minute one, the Danhhwe,[67] or Boa Temple. It is nothing but a small cylindrical mud hut—some Fetish houses are square—with thick clay walls supporting a flying thatch roof in extinguisher shape. Two low narrow doorless entrances front each other, leading to a raised floor of tamped earth, upon which there is nothing but a broom and a basket. It is roughly whitewashed inside and out, and when I saw it last a very lubberly fresco of a ship under full sail sprawled on the left of the doorway. A little distance from the entrance were three small pennons, red, white, and blue cottons tied to the top of tall poles.

The Danhgbwe is here worshipped, like the monkey near Accra and Wuru, the leopard of Agbome, the iguana of Bonny, and the crocodile at Savi, Porto Seguro, and Badagry. The reptile is a brown yellow-and-white- streaked python of moderate dimensions; and none appears to exceed five feet. The narrow neck and head tapering like the slow-worm’s, show it to be harmless; the negro indeed says that its bite is good as a defence against the venomous species, and it is tame with constant handling. M. Wallon saw 100 in the temple, some 10 feet long, and he tells his readers that they are never known to bite, whereas they use their sharp teeth like rats. Of these “nice gods” I counted seven, including one which was casting its slough; all were reposing upon the thickness of the clay wall where it met the inner thatch. They often wander at night, and whilst I was sketching the place a negro brought an estray in his arms: before raising it, he rubbed his right hand on the ground and duly dusted his forehead, as if grovelling before the king. The ugly brute coiled harmlessly round his neck, like a “doctored” cobra in India or Algeria. Other snakes may be killed and carried dead through the town, but strangers who meddle with the Danhgbwe must look out for “palavers,” which, however, will probably now resolve themselves into a fine. In olden times death has been the consequence of killing one of these reptiles, and if the snake be abused, “serious people” still stop their ears and run away.

When under former reigns a native killed a Danhgbwe even accidentally, he was put to death; now, the murderer is placed somewhat like the Salamanders of old Vauxhall, in a hole under a hut of dry faggots thatched with grass which has been well greased with palm-oil. This is fired, and he must rush to the nearest running water, mercilessly belaboured with sticks and pelted with clods the whole way by the Danhgbwe-no,[68] or fetish-priests. Many of course die under the gauntlet. Thus there is a _baptême de feu_ as well as a _baptême d’eau_; fire and water, to say nothing of the gauntlet, must combine to efface the god-killing crime.[69] The elder de Souza saved many a victim by stationing a number of his slaves round the deicide, with orders to hustle and beat him in semblance not in reality. This was truly the act of a “Good Samaritan.”

Ophiolatry in our part of Africa is mostly confined to the coast regions; the Popos and Windward races worship a black snake of larger size; and in the Bight of Biafra the Nimbi or Brass River people[70] are as bigoted in boa-religion as are the Whydahs. The system is of old date: Bosman, at the beginning of the last century, described it almost as it is at present. It well suits the gross materialism of these races, and yet here men ought to be tired of it. As will afterwards appear, the snakes lost their kingdom; yet we are told that when the Dahomans permitted serpent-worship to continue, the Whydahs, abundantly thankful, became almost reconciled to the new stern rule.

Snake worship is both old and widely spread[71]; we recognise it among the Psylli of the ancients, and in the Roman Ophiolatreia of which Livy wrote _anguem in quo ipsum numen fuisse constabat_. In the Christian Church the animal was adored by the Ophites, perhaps on the same principle that the Sheytan Parast propitiates H.S.M., or that certain ignorant Roman Catholics have burned the candle at both ends in honour of the Powers of Light and Darkness. The Ophites were thus opposed to the orthodox, who held the unfortunate animal to be the “fatal destroyer of the human race,” the “type of the devil and deluder of mankind.” Barbot quotes upon this subject the Golden Serpent of the first Israelites, the Brazen Snake of Moses, the Dragon of Babylon, and the Thermutis or Asp of Egypt, where it was accounted one of the most valuable symbols of religion. Erasmus Stella informs us, in his Antiquities of Borussia, that people began worship by ophiolatry. Sigismund, baron of Huberstein, in his account of Moscovy, says, “that snakes were adored in Samogitia and Lithuania.” The Naga of India was the Couch of Vishnu and the type of eternity; it is still revered by the snake-charmer.[72] Herodotus (ii. 74) mentions the sacred serpent at Thebes. The Romans during a plague brought Æsculapius, son of Apollo, from Epidaurus, in the form of a huge serpent, and with great sacrifices and ceremonies lodged him in an island of the Tiber. Finally, I may observe that from the Slave-Coast “Vodun” or Fetish we may derive the “Vaudoux” or small green snake of the Haytian negroes, so well-known by the abominable orgies enacted before the “Vaudoux King and Queen,[73]” and the “King Snake” is still revered at S’a Leone.

On the other side of the road the devotees of the snake are generally lolling upon the tree roots in pretended apathy, but carefully watching over their gods. Here too are the Fetish schools, where any child touched by the holy reptile must be taken for a year from its parents—who “pay the piper”—and must be taught the various arts of singing and dancing necessary to the worship. This part of the system has, however, lost much of the excesses that prevailed in the last century, when, at the pleasure of the strong-backed Fetish men, even the King’s daughters were not excused from incarceration and from its presumable object. The temple is still annually visited by the Viceroy, during the interval after the Customs and before the campaigning season. He takes one bullock, with goats, fowls, cloth, rum, meal, and water to the priest, who, holding a bit of kola nut, prays aloud for the King, the country, and the crops.

Close to the Boa Temple is the palace of the Yevogan,[74] or Viceroy of Whydah. This is an important post, and the holder is the third dignitary of the kingdom. He is proposed by the Meu, or second minister, his after patron, and he is installed by the King, under whose indirect protection he is. The Viceroy is surrounded by the cleverest spies and councillors; on his own ground he is strong, but once in the capital he falls into the hands of his protector. He is ever liable to be summoned to Agbome, and etiquette compels him to ride a wretched garron, upon which he is supported by his slaves. His soldiers may amount, not to 2000, as some say, but to 200. He is at once council, jury, and judge; he cannot, however, put a Dahoman to death even for crime without sending him for examination to the King. He has unlimited powers of imprisonment and bastinado; indeed, the local system seems to be that which kept the old British man-of-war in such grand discipline; all are in ranks, and the superior “sticks” every one below him. He is great at embezzlement, and woe betide the litigious wight whose cause falls into his hands. Both he and his lieutenant must be propitiated before he will forward a visitor’s message to the King; and both, though they can do little to assist, are powerful in impeding progress.[75] However, a piece of silk, and a few bottles of French “’tafia,” suffice for each, and both vouchsafed a return in provisions. I reserve a personal description of the Yevo-gan till we meet him at Kana.

The Yevo-gan’s palace is a large enceinte to the north of the town, with four principal entrances. That on the north-east is the “Bwendemen.[76]” It opens upon a square or space full of Fetish huts, one of which covers the skull of the African wild buffalo, now extinct in these parts, and under the straggling trees deputations are received. To the north is “Ganhori”; the western entrance is known as “Ohongaji”; and the southern, leading to the Snake House, is “Agoli.” The interior is the normal labyrinth of courts and tents, each with two doorways; you reach the audience chamber after some twenty turnings, though perhaps it was a few yards from the entrance passage, and it is concealed, like the owner’s “wifery,” by mud walls. The great man, after the usual formality of canes and compliments, causes visitors, if they allow it, to _fare anticamera_, till his toilet is satisfactory, in a palm-nut paved outhouse near his pony’s stable. Dignity makes this demand; the negro grandee must not appear curious or anxious to see his visitor, who will ensure a better reception next time by making the loudest demonstrations of indignation. The dignitary receives in a small clean verandah, where, as chairs may not be used by the lieges of Dahome, he is found reclining upon the uncarpeted floor. He escorts the visitor beyond his walls, and he never fails to beg that a decent horse may be sent out to him from Europe, Asia, or the other quarters of the “inhabited quarter.”

Crossing Main Street from north to south, we proceed to the south-west of the town, where stands the Brazilian Fort, the residence of the de Souza family. The huge mud pile occupies the base of a rude triangle, called a square, under whose shady trees, in the mornings and evenings, black cattle muster strong. Smaller tenements, in the south of Europe style, have been added to both sides. The old man, however, would not inhabit the house on the proper right of the fort, from a superstitious fancy that it would be fatal to him. The western turret or gable of the huge central building, which faces southwards, may be seen from the sea, affording an excellent mark to the aspiring gunner. The peculiar feature of the Uhon-nukon,[77] or Praça, is a circular wattling, six feet in diameter, planted round with the tall thunder-fetish shrub.[78] No one sees the interior, and even after fires that have calcined the live hedge, it is carefully covered with leaves. It is said to contain a round shot fired from the roads, probably out of an old long carronade (32-pounder, 9 ft. 6 in. in length, and 56 cwt.), by Commander Hill, R.N., who, in 1844, succeeded Mr. Maclean as Governor of the Gold Coast. The missile fell opposite the house of M. Martinez, and was removed to this place, where it has ever since been held fetish.

The founder of the family, M. Francisco Fellis de Sousa or Souza, left Rio Janeiro in 1810, not, as Commander Forbes[79] says, a fugitive for political crime, nor as Captain Canot[80] asserts, “a deserter from the arms of his imperial master,” but simply as a peasant who wished to see the world. He first settled at a place which he called Ajudo,[81] near Little Popo, and presently he became Governor of the Portuguese Fort here. About 1843 he was raised to the Chachaship, the principal agency in commercial matters between the King and all strangers; he thus became captain of the merchants, and the second dignitary at Whydah. As he could command refusal of all articles offered for sale, and as he had the regulation of the “De”—alcavála, octroi, or excise—he became very wealthy. He was ever hospitable and generous to Mr. Duncan[82] and to other Englishmen, although he owed to us the loss of a score of ships. He won the esteem of honest men, despite his slave-trading propensities, by discouraging torture and death; whilst, unlike too many other whites, he systematically refused to be present at human sacrifice. When far advanced in life, he had the honour to entertain the Prince de Joinville, and he died in May, 1849.

On the elder De Souza’s demise, the Chachaship was contested by three of his one hundred children. Isidore, the King’s favourite, succeeded; but, like all the juniors and African born of the family, he departed life young. Followed Antonio, commonly called Kwaku, or Wednesday,[83] a debauched man, rich, prodigal, and bigoted; he had thousands of armed and trained slaves; he built a swish-house with rum instead of water, wishing to imitate the King, who for such purpose uses blood; and he threatened to compel Gezo perforce to become a Christian. His career was short, and he was succeeded by his uterine brother,[84] Ignacio, whose mysterious fate has been mentioned. The present Chacha, popularly called S’or Chico, is “Francisco,” also a son of the old De Souza, aged about forty, tinted between a mulatto and a quadroon, with features European in the upper half, and African below, a scant beard, and a not unpleasant expression of countenance. He has little power, and thus the whole authority of the place has been centered, much to the detriment of commerce, in the hands of the wicked old Yevo-gan.

The family is charged with exercising a pernicious influence over the minds of the King and of the people of Dahome. It is still numerous.[85] The daughters of the house being too high to marry, temporarily honour the man who has the fortune to please them, and are said to reproduce in the Brazilian factory the state of morals that prevailed in the palaces of the old Persian kings and the Incas of Peru.

Passing up the Ajudo Akhi ’men, or Adjudo Market, by which we entered the town, we turn to the north-west, and once more pass into Main Street. Here we find the third bazar, Zo mai ’khi men, “Curfew Market.[86]” It was so called by the old Chacha, who would not allow the grass to be burned hereabouts, having a large store of gunpowder in Zomai House, a big swish building, now in ruins. There is nothing remarkable in this market.