The negroes of San Domingo ought to have a commerce—one of the most profitable in the world; but they haven’t. Their navy is a myth, and their army a joke. One revolution chases after another with such confusing rapidity that when our Senate meets to debate the ratification of the San Domingan treaty which Roosevelt had arranged, the “President” with whom Roosevelt had made the treaty is a fugitive, whose “Cabinet” has compelled him to take to the woods.
There used to be an “Order of Nobility” in San Domingo, with its Marquis of Lemonade and its Duke of Marmalade; but as these eminent Noblemen have failed to show up in the later turmoils I fear their titles have become extinct, or that the “Order of Nobility” has been abolished.
Which is a pity. It would have been something worth living for to have seen the Duke of Marmalade paying a visit to this country, receiving the adoring attentions which New York’s “Swell Set” pay to all “noblemen” whomsoever.
Nowhere else in the universe is the negro treated so well as in the United States.
He was once a slave, but his own people sold him. Either he was a captive in war who would have been slain, broiled and eaten, if the English or Dutch sailor had not come along and offered to buy him; or he was in the power of his chief, his father or his brother, and was by them offered for a price.
Some of the blacks who were brought to this country may have been kidnapped, but, as a rule, there was no need for kidnapping. Negroes could be bought for a song all along the Coast and all through the interior of Africa. The most successful “kidnapper” was New England rum.
Yes, it is a literal historical fact that the negro was sold into slavery by his own people, just as Joseph was sold by his brethren.
In the long run what was the consequence to the negro?
He was changed from a savage into a semi-civilized man.