MOTHER.
Alas, poor child!
Fortune forsook thee even at thy birth.
The heavens are overcast, the elements
Are turbid, and the very sea and winds
Are all combined against me. Thou, my child,
Know'st not the dark misfortunes into which
Thou art so early plunged, but happily
Lackest the power to comprehend thy fate.
What I would crave of thee, my life, since I
Must never more be blessed with seeing thee,
Is that thou never, never wilt forget
To say, as thou wert wont, thy Ave Mary;
For that bright queen of goodness, grace, and virtue
Can loosen all thy bonds and give thee freedom.
AYDAR.
Behold the wicked Christian, how she counsels
Her innocent child! You wish, then, that your child
Should, like yourself, continue still in error.
JUAN.
O mother, mother, may I not remain?
And must these Moors, then, carry me away?
MOTHER.
With thee, my child, they rob me of my treasures.
JUAN.
O, I am much afraid!
MOTHER.
'Tis I, my child,
Who ought to fear at seeing thee depart.
Thou wilt forget thy God, me, and thyself.
What else can I expect from thee, abandoned
At such a tender age, amongst a people
Full of deceit and all iniquity?
CRIER.
Silence, you villainous woman! if you would not
Have your head pay for what your tongue has done.
From this scene we gladly avert the countenance, while, from the bottom of our hearts, we send our sympathies to the unhappy sufferers. Fain would we avert their fate; fain would we destroy the system of slavery, that has made them wretched and their masters cruel. And yet we would not judge with harshness an Algerine slave owner. He has been reared in a religion of slavery; he has learned to regard Christians, "guilty of a skin not colored like his own," as lawful prey; and has found sanctions for his conduct in the injunctions of the Koran, in the custom of his country, and in the instinctive dictates of an imagined self-interest. It is, then, the "peculiar institution" which we are aroused to execrate, rather than the Algerine slave masters, who glory in its influence, and,
so perfect is their misery,
Not once perceive their foul disfigurement,
But boast themselves more comely than before.
But there is reason to believe that the sufferings of the white slaves were not often greater than is the natural incident of slavery. There is an important authority which presents this point in an interesting light. It is that of General Eaton, for some time consul of the United States at Tunis, and whose name is not without note in the painful annals of war. In a letter to his wife, dated at Tunis, April 6, 1799, and written amidst opportunities of observation such as few have enjoyed, he briefly describes the condition of this unhappy class, illustrating it by a comparison less flattering to our country than to Barbary. "Many of the Christian slaves," he says, "have died of grief, and the others linger out a life less tolerable than death. Alas! remorse seizes my whole soul, when I reflect that this is, indeed, a copy of the very barbarity which my eyes have seen in my own native country. And yet we boast of liberty and national justice. How frequently have I seen in the Southern States of our own country weeping mothers leading guiltless infants to the sales with as deep anguish as if they led them to the slaughter, and yet felt my bosom tranquil in the view of these aggressions upon defenceless humanity! But when I see the same enormities practised upon beings whose complexion and blood claim kindred with my own, I curse the perpetrators, and weep over the wretched victims of their rapacity. Indeed, truth and justice demand from me the confession that the Christian slaves among the barbarians of Africa are treated with more humanity than the African slaves among the professing Christians of civilized America; and yet here sensibility bleeds at every pore for the wretches whom fate has doomed to slavery."[134]