The use the Portuguese made of their African discoveries was to ensnare the inhabitants and sell them as slaves; and Las Casas thought that if these wretched people could be transported in numbers to America, they would, from their stronger constitutions and hardy frames, answer better than the natives themselves. This plan was laid before the council in Spain, and although strongly resisted by Cardinal Ximenes, who saw the impropriety of condemning an innocent nation to perpetual slavery to save another, the measure was carried by a majority of voices, and Charles granted to a favourite courtier a patent, empowering him to purchase slaves in Africa, and ship them to the West Indies.
This patent was purchased by some Genoese merchants, who immediately put it into execution, and thus that detestable traffic, the “slave trade,” was introduced by men calling themselves Christians, and professing to follow the doctrines of their divine Master, while they deliberately set at nought his great precept—“Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.” It is not within the plan of the present work to inquire how much the situation of the Indians was improved by this arrangement, but will merely observe, that while Las Casas spent his time, his money, and his health, in trying to benefit his favourite people, he forgot all other classes, and completely shut the door of mercy upon the unoffending Africans; and for no other cause than it had pleased their Creator to bestow upon them greater strength than upon the natives of the West, they were torn from their country, their friends, and home, and, to “increase a stranger’s treasures,” consigned to hopeless misery.
To the Portuguese and Genoese the slave-trade exclusively belonged for many years; at length, the Dutch, seeing the gainfulness of it, engaged in it; and in 1564, during the reign of Queen Elizabeth, Sir John, then Mr. Hawkins, introduced this bloodstained commerce (for so it may justly be termed) into the English trade, and thus tarnished the bright name he had acquired by his many naval victories.
Oh, that England, so famous for her spirit of liberty, should have ever imbrued her hands in this inhuman traffic!—that she, the “empress of the waves,” should have lent her power to crush these unfortunate beings!—that that nation by whom the sweets of domestic ties are so peculiarly felt and appreciated, should have been among the first to rend husband from wife, the babe from its mother, the daughter from her old parent, and condemn them to
“Plough the winter’s wave, and reap despair!”
that Britons, free-born Britons, such advocates for liberty! should have acted thus for so many years, even when the dark clouds of ignorance had been dispersed, and “knowledge to their eyes” had unfolded “her ample page,” is almost beyond credence. But, alas! it proves how much “the clink of Mammon’s box” charms the ear and deadens the nobler feelings of the soul. In 1592, two years before he died, Sir John Hawkins was so impressed with horror at what he had done in introducing the slave-trade to the notice of his countrymen, who had eagerly pursued it, that he built a hospital at Rochester, to atone, in some measure, for his violation of the laws of humanity.
Draco’s laws were said to be written with a pen of iron, in letters of blood; and surely, so also have the annals of slavery been described. “Disguise thyself as thou wilt,” says Sterne, “still, slavery—still thou art a bitter draught!” And, bitter as it is, our poor West Indian slaves have, in former years, drained the cup to the very dregs. But, thank God, the cry—“Am I not a man and a brother!” has been heard and acknowledged. The names of Sharpe, Wilberforce, and Fox, with many others, are engraved deep in the hearts of all true lovers of humanity, for their strenuous endeavours, year after year, in procuring the abolition of this infernal traffic; and universal gratitude is due to Buxton, Lushington, and their right worthy fellow-labourers of the present day, for their share in effecting the final measure of emancipation. And in this place, I must beg to proffer my thanks to the many kind hearts which beat in Antigua, slave-owners as they were, for their joint exertions with our English philanthropists in bringing this glorious freedom about; and for their cheerful acquiescence, when accomplished, in giving their slaves immediate freedom. They asked for no apprenticeship—they would not even accept it; but they trusted to their negroes, and set them free at once. Yet England did not behave to the Antiguans as she ought to have done. Instead of rewarding them for their disinterested conduct, by allotting to them a larger share of the compensation-money, their portion was smaller than that of any of the other islands. The excuse for this was, that slaves were less valued in Antigua. But what caused them to be less valuable? Did our English government ask that question? Do our friends “at home” know the answer? The Antiguans had become sensible of the inhumanity of dealing in human flesh; and although they were obliged to employ their slaves to till their fields, it was very few persons who thought of purchasing negroes. This was the reason, and not because her slaves were worse than those of other islands, or less competent for labour.[[3]]
Slavery is not only revolting for the cruelties it has occasioned, but it is debasing to the mind. How few, very few slaves, have we heard of, who have shewn any intellectual qualifications, or made any improvements in machinery or agriculture! Nor need we be surprised at this; for had a slave proposed anything of the kind, his master would have probably considered it as a suggestion of indolence, or a desire to save himself from toil at the expense of others.
Some authors have asserted, that negroes are an unimprovable race, incapable of receiving instruction, or having sufficient reason to discern right from wrong. But I am not at all inclined to assent to such a doctrine, but attribute the fact, that greater talents have not been shewn by them, as before remarked, to the degradation of slavery. Indeed, we have had some few instances of considerable display of abilities among this sable people; one or two instances of which it may not be amiss to introduce.
One of these clever negroes was a slave, named Juan de Parega, who was sent from the West Indies as a present to Diego Valasquez, the celebrated Spanish painter, about the year 1600. Juan was very fond of painting, and his own natural talents enabled him to study it with great effect. This he did, however, secretly, for fear of giving offence to his master, who, he thought, might be angry with a slave for disgracing the art. Philip the Fourth of Spain was a great admirer of the fine arts, and a frequent visitor at Valasquez’s study, where, if he met any pictures with their faces to the wall,[[4]] he was sure to request they might be turned. One day, when the monarch came to the house, during the absence of Valasquez, and before he proceeded to the study, Juan took one of his own pictures, hung it up in a prominent situation, with the painted side turned to the wall, and with trembling heart awaited the result. Philip’s step was heard upon the stair—his finger was upon the lock—poor Juan’s emotion almost stifled him!—the door opened, and his majesty entered. His quick eye immediately alighted upon the new picture, which he ordered Juan to turn. This was done; and after examining it for some time, Philip pronounced it beautiful! The gratified slave, his eyes beaming with delight, while he trembled at the thoughts of his audacity, fell upon his knees before his sovereign, acknowledged it to be his work, and prayed him to intercede with his master for him, that his presumption might be pardoned. Philip raised him from his knees, commended his talents, and; upon seeing Valasquez, told him he ought to free such a man. This was done; but Juan would never quit his kind master: he remained with him, studying and improving under his tuition, until eventually he became one of the first portrait-painters of his day.