We now come to one of the strangest kingdoms on the face of the earth, that of Dahome; a kingdom begun in blood and cruelty, and having maintained its existence of more than two centuries in spite of the terrible scenes continually enacted—scenes which would drive almost any other nation to revolt. But the fearful sacrifices for which the name of Dahome has been so long infamous are not merely the offspring of a despotic king’s fancy; they are sanctioned, and even forced upon him, by his people—fit subjects of such a king.
It is situated in that part of Africa commonly known as the Slave Coast, as distinguished from the Gold, Ivory, and Grain Coasts, and its shores are washed by the waters of the Bight of Benin. Dahome alone, of the four great slave kingdoms, Ashanti, Yomba, Benin, and Dahome, has retained its power, and, to the eye of an experienced observer, even Dahome, which has outlived the three, will speedily follow them.
On its coast are the two celebrated ports, Lagos and Whydah, which have for so long been the outlets by which the slaves captured in the interior were sent on board the ships. Lagos, however, has been already ceded to England, and, under a better management, will probably become one of the great ports at which a legitimate trade can be carried on, and which will become one of the blessings instead of the curses of Western Africa.
Whydah, being one of the towns through which a traveller is sure to pass in going into the interior of Dahome, is worth a passing notice. Captain Burton, from whom the greater part of our knowledge of this strange land is derived, states that the very name is a misnomer. In the first place, we have attributed it to the wrong spot, and in the next we have given it a most corrupted title. The place which we call Whydah is known to the people as Gre-hwe (Plantation House), while the real Hwe-dah—as the word ought to be spelt—belongs rightly to a little kingdom whose capital was Savi.
Originally a port belonging to the king of Savi, and given up entirely to piracy, it passed into the hands of Agaja, king of Dahome, who easily found an excuse for attacking a place which was so valuable as giving him a direct communication from the interior to the sea, without the intervention of middle-men, who each take a heavy percentage from all goods that pass through their district. From 1725, when it thus passed into Dahoman hands, it rapidly increased in size and importance. Now it presents an extraordinary mixture of native and imported masters, and we will endeavor to cast a rapid glance at the former.
The place is divided into five districts, each governed by its own Caboceer; and it is a notable fact, that nowadays a Caboceer need not be a native. The post of Caboceer of the Soglaji, or English quarter, was offered to Captain Burton, who, however could not be tempted to accept it even by the umbrella of rank—equal to the blue ribbon of our own system.
At the entrance of every town there is the De-sum, or Custom-house, and close by it are a number of little fetish houses, wherein the trader is supposed to return his thanks to the propitiating demons. The streets are formed by the walls of enclosures and the backs of houses; and, as Dahoman architecture is regulated by law, a very uniform effect is obtained. The walls are mud, popularly called “swish,” sometimes mixed with oyster-shells to strengthen it, and built up in regular courses, each about two feet and a half in thickness. By law, no walls are allowed to be more than four courses high.
The hot sun soon bakes the mud into the consistence of soft brick; and, were it not for the fierce rains of the tropics, it would be very lasting. As it is, the rainy season is very destructive to walls, and the early part of the dry season is always a busy time with native architects, who are engaged in repairing the damages caused by the rains. There is a small amount of salt in the mud, which increases the liability to damage. On the Gold Coast the natives ingeniously strengthen the swish walls by growing cactus plants; but the negroes of Dahome neglect this precaution, and consequently give themselves—as lazy people proverbially do—a vast amount of needless trouble. There are no windows to the houses; but the roofs, made of grass and leaves fastened on a light framework, are made so that they can be partially raised from the walls, like the “fly” of a tent.
In spite of the presence of localized Christian missions, and the continual contact of Islamism, the system of fetishism is rampant in Whydah. No human sacrifices take place there, all the victims being forwarded to the capital for execution. But, according to Captain Burton, “even in the bazaar many a hut will be girt round with the Zo Vodun, a country rope with dead leaves dangling from it at spaces of twenty feet. (Zo Vodun signifies fire-fetish.)
“After a conflagration, this fetish fire-prophylactic becomes almost universal. Opposite the house gates, again, we find the Vo-siva 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, fowls’ feathers, achatina shells. These people must deem lightly of an influence that can mistake, even in the dark, such a scarecrow for a human being.