laughtering of criminals and persons captured in war.
Burton begged off some of the victims, and he declared that he would
turn back at once if any person was killed before his eyes. He tells us,
however, that in the case of the King of Dahomey, human sacrifice is not
attributable to cruelty. "It is a touching instance of the King's filial
piety, deplorably mistaken, but perfectly sincere." The world to come is
called by the Dahomans "Deadland." It receives the 'nidon' or soul; but
in "Deadland" there are no rewards or punishments. Kings here are
kings there, the slave is a slave for ever and ever; and people occupy
themselves just the same as on earth. As the Dahoman sovereign is
obliged to enter Deadland, his pious successor takes care that the
deceased shall make this entrance in royal state, "accompanied by a
ghostly court of leopard wives, head wives, birthday wives, Afa wives,
eunuchs, singers, drummers, bards and soldiers." Consequently when a
king dies some 500 persons are put to death, their cries being drowned
by the clangour of drums and cymbals. This is called the "Grand
Customs." Every year, moreover, decorum exacts that the firstfruits of
war and all criminals should be sent as recruits to swell the king's
retinue. Hence the ordinary "Annual Customs," at which some 80 perish.
Burton thus describes the horrors of the approach to the "palace"--that
is to say, a great thatched shed--on the fifth day of the "Customs."
"Four corpses, attired in their criminal's shirts and night-caps, were
sitting in pairs upon Gold Coast stools, supported by a double-storied
scaffold, about forty feet high, of rough beams, two perpendiculars
and as many connecting horizontals. At a little distance on a similar
erection, but made for half the number, were two victims, one above the
other. Between these substantial structures was a gallows of thin posts,
some thirty feet tall, with a single victim hanging by the heels head
downwards." Hard by were two others dangling side by side. The corpses
were nude and the vultures were preying upon them, and squabbling over
their hideous repast. All this was grisly enough, but there was no
preventing it. Then came the Court revels. The king danced in public,
and at his request, Burton and Dr. Cruikshank also favoured the company.
Bernisco, when called upon, produced a concertina and played "O, let us
be joyful, when we meet to part no more." The idea, however, of getting
to any place where he