The town of Porto Novo is built on the eastern portion of the Porto Novan lagoon, which is here two miles and a-half in breadth; and some high ground, not elsewhere to be found for scores of miles along the Slave Coast, lies a little to the north of it, and forms a pleasing change in the dull level of the surrounding country. The town itself is as dirty and irregular as most native ones, and there is nothing to be seen worth mentioning but the palace of the king, who is, on a smaller scale, an irresponsible and bloodthirsty despot like his friend and ally the King of Dahomey. The royal residence is surrounded by a swish wall, loopholed for musketry and protected by a ditch: it includes, too, buildings for the accommodation of the four or five hundred wives, slaves, dependents, and retainers of his majesty. It is entered by means of a gateway through a house built of sun-dried bricks, with windows on the upper story only, looking outwards; a massive and iron-studded door, with three or four loopholes cut in it, seems to show that the king scarcely considers himself safe from attack even at home.
Opposite to the palace-gate stands a row of fetish-sheds containing specimens of the sculptor’s high art similar to those at Badagry; but here the natives are more attentive to the wants of their deities, and, though they do not give them anything to eat, because food costs money, or rather cowries, they are careful to place before each a brass pan full of water, which is popularly believed to be a more wholesome beverage for gods than rum, and costs nothing more than the trouble of drawing it. Standing in the full glare of the sun, these pans naturally become empty in the course of time through evaporation, which fact the natives explain by saying that the fetishes drink it, and it is to them ocular proof of the existence and material being of their deities.
Next to the fetish huts is the shed for human sacrifices, to which West African pastime the King of Porto Novo is as partial as the comparatively limited number of his subjects will allow. It reeks with blotches of black and clotted blood, covered with thousands of hungry flies, and is furnished with headsman’s blocks made of a hard and dark wood. A communicative Porto Novan, who was a shopman in one of the French factories in the town, and had been showing me all these sights, pointed to these blocks, and said in French:
“We are always spoken of by you English at Lagos as a cruel people, but these are a proof to the contrary.”
I said, “I should have arrived at an exactly opposite opinion.”
“Ah! then you have not observed closely, Monsieur. Do you not see that each block is hollowed out, so that the man to be beheaded may rest his chin and breast on it in comfort?”
“Yes, I see that.”
“Well that proves that we are considerate and kind.”
“You are pleased to be facetious.”