Other less important points of likeness between the two territories may be observed. They are each washed, to the same extent, by ocean and sea; with this difference, that the two regions are thus exposed on directly opposite coasts—the African Barbary being bounded in this way on the north and west, and our American Barbary on the south and east. But there are no two spaces, on the surface of the globe, of equal extent, (and an examination of the map will verify what I am about to state,) which present so many distinctive features of resemblance; whether we consider the parallels of latitude on which they lie, the nature of their boundaries, their productions, their climate, or the "peculiar domestic institution" which has sought shelter in both.
I introduce these comparisons in order to bring home to your minds, as near as possible, the precise position and character of the territory which was the seat of the evil I am about to describe. It might be worthy of inquiry, why Christian slavery, banished at last from Europe, banished also from that part of this hemisphere which corresponds in latitude to Europe, should have intrenched itself, in both hemispheres, between the same parallels of latitude; so that Virginia, Carolina, Mississippi, and Texas should be the American complement to Morocco, Algiers, Tripoli, and Tunis. Perhaps the common peculiarities of climate, breeding indolence, lassitude, and selfishness, may account for the insensibility to the claims of justice and humanity which have characterized both regions.
The revolting custom of White Slavery in the Barbary States was, for many years, the shame of modern civilization. The nations of Europe made constant efforts, continued through successive centuries, to procure its abolition, and also to rescue their subjects from its fearful doom. These may be traced in the diversified pages of history, and in the authentic memoirs of the times. Literature also affords illustrations, which must not be neglected. At one period, the French, the Italians, and the Spaniards borrowed the plots of their stories mostly from this source.[4] The adventures of Robinson Crusoe make our childhood familiar with one of its forms. Among his early trials, he was piratically captured by a rover from Salle, a port of Morocco, on the Atlantic Ocean, and reduced to slavery. "At this surprising change of circumstances," he says, "from a merchant to a miserable slave, I was perfectly overwhelmed; and now I looked back upon my father's prophetic discourse to me, that I should be miserable, and have none to relieve me, which I thought was so effectually brought to pass, that I could not be worse." And Cervantes, in the story of Don Quixote, over which so many generations have shaken with laughter, turns aside from its genial current to give the narrative of a Spanish captive who had escaped from Algiers. The author is supposed to have drawn from his own experience; for during five years and a half he endured the horrors of Algerine slavery, from which he was finally liberated by a ransom of about six hundred dollars.[5] This inconsiderable sum of money—less than the price of an intelligent African slave in our own Southern States—gave to freedom, to his country, and to mankind the author of Don Quixote.
In Cervantes freedom gained a champion whose efforts entitle him to grateful mention, on this threshold of our inquiry. Taught in the school of slavery, he knew how to commiserate the slave. The unhappy condition of his fellow-Christians in chains was ever uppermost in his mind. He lost no opportunity of arousing his countrymen to attempts for their emancipation, and for the overthrow of the "peculiar institution"—pardon this returning phrase!—under which they groaned. He became in Spain what, in our day and country, is sometimes called an "Anti-Slavery Agitator"—not by public meetings and addresses, but, according to the genius of the age, mainly through the instrumentality of the theatre. Not from the platform, but from the stage, did this liberated slave speak to the world. In a drama, entitled El Trato de Argel, or Life in Algiers,—which, though not composed according to the rules of art, yet found much favor, probably from its subject,—he pictured, shortly after his return to Spain, the manifold humiliations, pains, and torments of slavery. This was followed by two others in the same spirit—La Gran Sultana Dona Cattalina de Oviedo, The Great Sultana the Lady Cattalina of Oviedo; and Los Banos de Argel, The Galleys of Algiers. The last act of the latter closes with the statement, calculated to enlist the sympathies of an audience, that this play "is not drawn from the imagination, but was born far from the regions of fiction, in the very heart of truth." Not content with this appeal through the theatre, Cervantes, with constant zeal, takes up the same theme, in the tale of the Captive, in Don Quixote, as we have already seen, and also in that of El Liberal Amante, The Liberal Lover, and in some parts of La Espanola Inglesa, The English Spanishwoman. All these may be regarded, not merely as literary labors, but as charitable endeavors in behalf of human freedom.
And this same cause enlisted also a prolific contemporary genius, called by Cervantes "that prodigy," Lopé de Vega, who commended it in a play entitled Los Cautivos de Argel, The Captives of Algiers. At a later day, Calderon, sometimes exalted as the Shakspeare of the Spanish stage, in one of his most remarkable dramas, El Principe Constante, The Constant Prince, cast a poet's glance at Christian slavery in Morocco. To these works—belonging to what may be called the literature of Anti-Slavery, and shedding upon our subject a grateful light—must be added a curious and learned volume, in Spanish, on the Topography and History of Algiers, by Haedo, a father of the Catholic Church,—Topografia y Historia de Argel por Fra Haedo,—published in 1612; and containing also two copious Dialogues—one on Captivity (de la Captiudad), and the other on the Martyrs of Algiers, (de los Martyres de Argel). These Dialogues, besides embodying authentic sketches of the sufferings in Algiers, form a mine of classical and patristic learning on the origin and character of slavery, with arguments and protestations against its iniquity, which may be explored with profit, even in our day. In view of this gigantic evil, particularly in Algiers, and in the hope of arousing his countrymen to the generous work of emancipation, the good father exclaims,[6] in words which will continue to thrill the soul,—so long as a single fetter binds a single slave,—"Where is charity? Where is the love of God? Where is the zeal for his glory? Where is desire for his service? Where is human pity and the compassion of man for man? Certainly to redeem a captive, to liberate him from wretched slavery, is the highest work of charity, of all that can be done in this world."
Not long after the dark experience of Cervantes, another person, of another country and language, and of a still higher character, St. Vincent de Paul, of France, underwent the same cruel lot. Happily for the world, he escaped from slavery, to commence at home that long career of charity—nobler than any glories of literature—signalized by various Christian efforts, against duels, for peace, for the poor, and in every field of humanity—by which he is placed among the great names of Christendom. Princes and orators have lavished panegyrics upon this fugitive slave; and the Catholic Church, in homage to his extraordinary virtues, has introduced him into the company of saints. Nor is he the only illustrious Frenchman who has felt the yoke of slavery. Almost within our own day, Arago, the astronomer and philosopher,—devoted republican, I may add also,—while engaged, early in life, in those scientific labors, on the coast of the Mediterranean, which made the beginning of his fame, fell a prey to Algerine slave dealers. What science and the world have gained by his emancipation I need not say.
Thus Science, Literature, Freedom, Philanthropy, the Catholic Church, each and all, confess a debt to the liberated Barbary slave. May they, on this occasion, as beneficent heralds, commend the story of his wrongs, his struggles, and his triumphs!