Volume V Part 9 (2/2)

The Governor having remain'd wounded at _Parham_, till his Recovery was completed, _Caesar_ did not know but he was still there, and indeed for the most Part, his Time was spent there: for he was one that loved to live at other Peoples Expence, and if he were a Day absent, he was ten present there; and us'd to play, and walk, and hunt, and fish with _Caesar_: So that _Caesar_ did not at all doubt, if he once recover'd Strength, but he should find an Opportunity of being revenged on him; though, after such a Revenge, he could not hope to live: for if he escaped the Fury of the _English_ Mobile, who perhaps would have been glad of the Occasion to have killed him, he was resolved not to survive his Whipping; yet he had some tender Hours, a repenting Softness, which he called his Fits of Cowardice, wherein he struggled with Love for the Victory of his Heart, which took Part with his charming _Imoinda_ there; but for the most Part, his Time was pa.s.s'd in melancholy Thoughts, and black Designs. He consider'd, if he should do this Deed, and die either in the Attempt, or after it, he left his lovely _Imoinda_ a Prey, or at best a Slave to the enraged Mult.i.tude; his great Heart could not endure that Thought: _Perhaps_ (said he) _she may be first ravish'd by every Brute; expos'd first to their nasty l.u.s.ts, and then a shameful Death_: No, he could not live a Moment under that Apprehension, too insupportable to be borne. These were his Thoughts, and his silent Arguments with his Heart, as he told us afterwards: So that now resolving not only to kill _Byam_, but all those he thought had enraged him; pleasing his great Heart with the fancy'd Slaughter he should make over the whole Face of the Plantation; he first resolved on a Deed, (that however horrid it first appear'd to us all) when we had heard his Reasons, we thought it brave and just. Being able to walk, and, as he believed, fit for the Execution of his great Design, he begg'd _Trefry_ to trust him into the Air, believing a Walk would do him good; which was granted him; and taking _Imoinda_ with him, as he used to do in his more happy and calmer Days, he led her up into a Wood, where (after with a thousand Sighs, and long gazing silently on her Face, while Tears gush'd, in spite of him, from his Eyes) he told her his Design, first of killing her, and then his Enemies, and next himself, and the Impossibility of escaping, and therefore he told her the Necessity of dying. He found the heroick Wife faster pleading for Death, than he was to propose it, when she found his fix'd Resolution; and, on her Knees, besought him not to leave her a Prey to his Enemies. He (grieved to Death) yet pleased at her n.o.ble Resolution, took her up, and embracing of her with all the Pa.s.sion and Languishment of a dying Lover, drew his Knife to kill this Treasure of his Soul, this Pleasure of his Eyes; while Tears trickled down his Cheeks, hers were smiling with Joy she should die by so n.o.ble a Hand, and be sent into her own Country (for that's their Notion of the next World) by him she so tenderly loved, and so truly ador'd in this: For Wives have a Respect for their Husbands equal to what any other People pay a Deity; and when a Man finds any Occasion to quit his Wife, if he love her, she dies by his Hand; if not, he sells her, or suffers some other to kill her. It being thus, you may believe the Deed was soon resolv'd on; and 'tis not to be doubted, but the parting, the eternal Leave-taking of two such Lovers, so greatly born, so sensible, so beautiful, so young, and so fond, must be very moving, as the Relation of it was to me afterwards.

All that Love could say in such Cases, being ended, and all the intermitting Irresolutions being adjusted, the lovely, young and ador'd Victim lays herself down before the Sacrificer; while he, with a Hand resolved, and a Heart-breaking within, gave the fatal Stroke, first cutting her Throat, and then severing her yet smiling Face from that delicate Body, pregnant as it was with the Fruits of tenderest Love. As soon as he had done, he laid the Body decently on Leaves and Flowers, of which he made a Bed, and conceal'd it under the same Cover-lid of Nature; only her Face he left yet bare to look on: But when he found she was dead, and past all Retrieve, never more to bless him with her Eyes, and soft Language, his Grief swell'd up to Rage; he tore, he rav'd, he roar'd like some Monster of the Wood, calling on the lov'd Name of _Imoinda_. A thousand Times he turned the fatal Knife that did the Deed towards his own Heart, with a Resolution to go immediately after her; but dire Revenge, which was now a thousand Times more fierce in his Soul than before, prevents him; and he would cry out, 'No, since I have sacrific'd _Imoinda_ to my Revenge, shall I lose that Glory which I have purchased so dear, as at the Price of the fairest, dearest, softest Creature that ever Nature made? No, no!' Then at her Name Grief would get the Ascendant of Rage, and he would lie down by her Side, and water her Face with Showers of Tears, which never were wont to fall from those Eyes; and however bent he was on his intended Slaughter, he had not Power to stir from the Sight of this dear Object, now more beloved, and more ador'd than ever.

He remained in this deplorable Condition for two Days, and never rose from the Ground where he had made her sad Sacrifice; at last rouzing from her Side, and accusing himself with living too long, now _Imoinda_ was dead, and that the Deaths of those barbarous Enemies were deferred too long, he resolved now to finish the great Work: but offering to rise, he found his Strength so decay'd, that he reeled to and fro, like Boughs a.s.sailed by contrary Winds; so that he was forced to lie down again, and try to summon all his Courage to his Aid. He found his Brains turned round, and his Eyes were dizzy, and Objects appear'd not the same to him they were wont to do; his Breath was short, and all his Limbs surpriz'd with a Faintness he had never felt before. He had not eat in two Days, which was one Occasion of his Feebleness, but Excess of Grief was the greatest; yet still he hoped he should recover Vigour to act his Design, and lay expecting it yet six Days longer; still mourning over the dead Idol of his Heart, and striving every Day to rise, but could not.

In all this time you may believe we were in no little Affliction for _Caesar_ and his Wife; some were of Opinion he was escaped, never to return; others thought some Accident had happened to him: But however, we fail'd not to send out a hundred People several Ways, to search for him. A Party of about forty went that Way he took, among whom was _Tuscan_, who was perfectly reconciled to _Byam_: They had not gone very far into the Wood, but they smelt an unusual Smell, as of a dead Body; for Stinks must be very noisom, that can be distinguish'd among such a Quant.i.ty of natural Sweets, as every Inch of that Land produces: so that they concluded they should find him dead, or some body that was so; they pa.s.s'd on towards it, as loathsom as it was, and made such rustling among the Leaves that lie thick on the Ground, by continual falling, that _Caesar_ heard he was approach'd; and though he had, during the s.p.a.ce of these eight Days, endeavour'd to rise, but found he wanted Strength, yet looking up, and seeing his Pursuers, he rose, and reel'd to a neighbouring Tree, against which he fix'd his Back; and being within a dozen Yards of those that advanc'd and saw him, he call'd out to them, and bid them approach no nearer, if they would be safe. So that they stood still, and hardly believing their Eyes, that would persuade them that it was _Caesar_ that spoke to them, so much he was alter'd; they ask'd him, what he had done with his Wife, for they smelt a Stink that almost struck them dead? He pointing to the dead Body, sighing, cry'd, _Behold her there._ They put off the Flowers that cover'd her, with their Sticks, and found she was kill'd, and cry'd out, _Oh, Monster! that hast murder'd thy Wife._ Then asking him, why he did so cruel a Deed? He reply'd, He had no Leisure to answer impertinent Questions: 'You may go back (_continued he_) and tell the faithless Governor, he may thank Fortune that I am breathing my last; and that my Arm is too feeble to obey my Heart, in what it had design'd him': But his Tongue faultering, and trembling, he could scarce end what he was saying. The _English_ taking Advantage by his Weakness, cry'd, _Let us take him alive by all Means._ He heard 'em; and, as if he had reviv'd from a Fainting, or a Dream, he cried out, 'No, Gentlemen, you are deceived; you will find no more _Caesars_ to be whipt; no more find a Faith in me; Feeble as you think me, I have Strength yet left to secure me from a second Indignity.' They swore all anew; and he only shook his Head, and beheld them with Scorn. Then they cry'd out, _Who will venture on this single Man? Will n.o.body?_ They stood all silent, while _Caesar_ replied, _Fatal will be the Attempt of the first Adventurer, let him a.s.sure himself_, (and, at that Word, held up his Knife in a menacing Posture:) _Look ye, ye faithless Crew_, said he, _'tis not Life I seek, nor am I afraid of dying_, (and at that Word, cut a Piece of Flesh from his own Throat, and threw it at 'em) _yet still I would live if I could, till I had perfected my Revenge: But, oh! it cannot be; I feel Life gliding from my Eyes and Heart; and if I make not haste, I shall fall a Victim to the shameful Whip._ At that, he rip'd up his own Belly, and took his Bowels and pull'd 'em out, with what Strength he could; while some, on their Knees imploring, besought him to hold his Hand. But when they saw him tottering, they cry'd out, _Will none venture on him?_ A bold _Englishman_ cry'd, _Yes, if he were the Devil_, (taking Courage when he saw him almost dead) and swearing a horrid Oath for his farewel to the World, he rush'd on him. _Caesar_ with his arm'd Hand, met him so fairly, as stuck him to the Heart, and he Fell dead at his feet.

_Tuscan_ seeing that, cry'd out, _I love thee, O +Caesar+! and therefore will not let thee die, if possible_; and running to him, took him in his Arms; but, at the same time, warding a Blow that _Caesar_ made at his Bosom, he receiv'd it quite through his Arm; and _Caesar_ having not Strength to pluck the Knife forth, tho' he attempted it, _Tuscan_ neither pull'd it out himself, nor suffer'd it to be pull'd out, but came down with it sticking in his Arm; and the Reason he gave for it, was, because the Air should not get into the Wound. They put their Hands a-cross, and carry'd _Caesar_ between six of 'em, fainting as he was, and they thought dead, or just dying; and they brought him to _Parham_, and laid him on a Couch, and had the Chirurgeon immediately to him, who dressed his Wounds, and sow'd up his Belly, and us'd Means to bring him to Life, which they effected. We ran all to see him; and, if before we thought him so beautiful a Sight, he was now so alter'd, that his Face was like a Death's-Head black'd over, nothing but Teeth and Eye-holes: For some Days we suffer'd no Body to speak to him, but caused Cordials to be poured down his Throat; which sustained his Life, and in six or seven Days he recovered his Senses: For, you must know, that Wounds are almost to a Miracle cur'd in the _Indies_; unless Wounds in the Legs, which they rarely ever cure.

When he was well enough to speak, we talk'd to him, and ask'd him some Questions about his Wife, and the Reasons why he kill'd her; and he then told us what I have related of that Resolution, and of his Parting, and he besought us we would let him die, and was extremely afflicted to think it was possible he might live: He a.s.sur'd us, if we did not dispatch him, he would prove very fatal to a great many. We said all we could to make him live, and gave him new a.s.surances; but he begg'd we would not think so poorly of him, or of his Love to _Imoinda_, to imagine we could flatter him to Life again: But the Chirurgeon a.s.sur'd him he could not live, and therefore he need not fear. We were all (but _Caesar_) afflicted at this News, and the Sight was ghastly: His Discourse was sad; and the earthy Smell about him so strong, that I was persuaded to leave the Place for some time, (being my self but sickly, and very apt to fall into Fits of dangerous Illness upon any extraordinary Melancholy.) The Servants, and _Trefry_, and the Chirurgeons, promis'd all to take what possible Care they could of the Life of _Caesar_; and I, taking Boat, went with other Company to Colonel _Martin's_, about three Days Journey down the River. But I was no sooner gone, than the Governor taking _Trefry_, about some pretended earnest Business, a Day's Journey up the River, having communicated his Design to one _Banister_, a wild _Irish_ Man, one of the Council, a Fellow of absolute Barbarity, and fit to execute any Villany, but rich; he came up to _Parham_, and forcibly took _Caesar_, and had him carried to the same Post where he was whipp'd; and causing him to be ty'd to it, and a great Fire made before him, he told him he should die like a Dog, as he was.

_Caesar_ replied, This was the first piece of Bravery that ever _Banister_ did, and he never spoke Sense till he p.r.o.nounc'd that Word; and if he would keep it, he would declare, in the other World, that he was the only Man, of all the _Whites_, that ever he heard speak Truth.

And turning to the Men that had bound him, he said, _My Friends, am I to die, or to be whipt?_ And they cry'd, _Whipt! no, you shall not escape so well._ And then he reply'd, smiling, _A Blessing on thee_; and a.s.sur'd them they need not tie him, for he would stand fix'd like a Rock, and endure Death so as should encourage them to die: _But if you whip me_ (said he) _be sure you tie me fast_.

He had learn'd to take Tobacco; and when he was a.s.sur'd he should die, he desir'd they would give him a Pipe in his Mouth, ready lighted; which they did: And the Executioner came, and first cut off his Members, and threw them into the Fire; after that, with an ill-favour'd Knife, they cut off his Ears and his Nose, and burn'd them; he still smoak'd on, as if nothing had touch'd him; then they hack'd off one of his Arms, and still he bore up and held his Pipe; but at the cutting off the other Arm, his Head sunk, and his Pipe dropt, and he gave up the Ghost, without a Groan, or a Reproach. My Mother and Sister were by him all the While, but not suffer'd to save him; so rude and wild were the Rabble, and so inhuman were the Justices who stood by to see the Execution, who after paid dear enough for their Insolence. They cut _Caesar_ into Quarters, and sent them to several of the chief Plantations: One Quarter was sent to Colonel _Martin_; who refus'd it, and swore, he had rather see the Quarters of _Banister_, and the Governor himself, than those of _Caesar_, on his Plantations; and that he could govern his _Negroes_, without terrifying and grieving them with frightful Spectacles of a mangled King.

Thus died this great Man, worthy of a better Fate, and a more sublime Wit than mine to write his Praise: Yet, I hope, the Reputation of my Pen is considerable enough to make his glorious Name to survive to all Ages, with that of the brave, the beautiful and the constant _Imoinda_.

NOTES: Oroonoko.

p. 509 _Appendix. Oronooko: Epistle Dedicatory._ Richard Maitland, fourth Earl of Lauderdale (1653-95), eldest son of Charles, third Earl of Lauderdale by Elizabeth, daughter and heiress of Richard Lauder of Halton, was born 20 June, 1653. Before his father succeeded to the Lauderdale t.i.tle he was styled of Over-Gogar; after that event he was known as Lord Maitland. 9 October, 1678, he was sworn a Privy Councillor, and appointed Joint General of the Mint with his father.

In 1681 he was made Lord Justice General, but deprived of that office three years later on account of suspected communications with his father-in-law, Argyll, who had fled to Holland in 1681. Maitland, however, was in truth a strong Jacobite, and refusing to accept the Revolution settlement became an exile with his King. He is said to have been present at the battle of the Boyne, 1 July, 1690. He resided for some time at St. Germains, but fell into disfavour, perhaps owing to the well-known protestant sympathies of his wife, Lady Agnes Campbell (1658-1734), second daughter of the fanatical Archibald, Earl of Argyll.

From St. Germains Maitland retired to Paris, where he died in 1695. He had succeeded to the Earldom of Lauderdale 9 June, 1691, but was outlawed by the Court of Justiciary, 23 July, 1694. He left no issue.

Lauderdale was the author of a verse translation of Virgil (8vo, 1718 and 2 Vols., 12mo, 1737). Dryden, to whom he sent a MS. copy from Paris, states that whilst working on his own version he consulted this whenever a crux appeared in the Latin text. Lauderdale also wrote _A Memorial on the Estate of Scotland_ (about 1690), printed in Hooke's _Correspondence_ (Roxburghe Club), and there wrongly ascribed to the third Earl, his father.

The Dedication only occurs in the first edition of _Oronooko_ (1688), of which I can trace but one copy. This is in the library of Mr. F. F.

Norcross of Chicago, whose brother-in-law, Mr. Harold B. Wrenn, most kindly transcribed and transmitted to me the Epistle Dedicatory. It, unfortunately, arrived too late for insertion at p. 129.

p. 130 _I gave 'em to the King's Theatre._ Sir Robert Howard and Dryden's heroic tragedy, _The Indian Queen_, was produced at the Theatre Royal in mid-January, 1663. It is a good play, but the extraordinary success it attained was in no small measure due to the excellence and magnificence of the scenic effects and mounting. 27 January, Pepys noticed that the streets adjacent to the theatre were 'full of coaches at the new play _The Indian Queen_, which for show, they say, exceeds _Henry VIII_.' On 1 February he himself found it 'indeed a most pleasant show'. The grandeur of the _mise en scene_ became long proverbial in theatrical history. Zempoalla, the Indian Queen, a fine role, was superbly acted by Mrs. Marshall, the leading tragedienne of the day. The feathered ornaments which Mrs. Behn mentions must have formed a quaint but doubtless striking addition to the actress's pseudo-cla.s.sic attire.

Bernbaum pictures 'Nell Gwynn[5] in the true costume of a Carib belle', a quite unfair deduction from Mrs. Behn's words.

p. 168 _Osenbrigs._ More usually 'osnaburg', so named from Osnabruck in North Germany, a kind of coa.r.s.e linen made in this town. Narborough's Journal, 1669 (_An Account of Several Late Voyages_, 1694), speaks of 'Cloth, Osenbrigs, Tobacco'. cf. _Pennsylvania Col. Records_ (1732): 'That to each there be given a couple of s.h.i.+rts, a Jackett, two pairs of trowsers of Oznabrigs.'

p. 174 _as soon as the Governour arrived_. The Governor was Francis Willoughby, fifth Baron Willoughby of Parham (1613?-1666). He had arrived at Barbadoes, 29 April, 1650, and was received as Governor 7 May, which same day he caused Charles II to be proclaimed. An ardent royalist, he was dispossessed by an Act of Parliament, 4 March, 1652, and summoned back to England. At the Restoration he was reinstated, and arrived the second time with full powers in Barbadoes, 10 August, 1663.

About the end of July, 1666, he was lost at sea on board the good s.h.i.+p _Hope_.

p. 177 _my Father . . . never arriv'd to possess the Honour design'd him._ Bernbaum, following the mistaken statement that Mrs. Behn's father, John Amis, was a barber, argues that a man in such a position could hardly have obtained so important a post, and if her 'father was not sent to Surinam, the only reason she gives for being there disappears.' However, since we know her father to have been no barber, but of good family, this line of discussion falls to the ground.

p. 180 _Brother to Harry Martin the great Oliverian._ Henry, or Harry, and George Marten were the two sons of Sir Henry Marten (_ob._ 1641) and his first wife, Elizabeth, who died 19 June, 1618. For the elder brother, Henry Marten, (1602-80), see note Vol. I, p. 457.

p. 193 _The Deputy Governor._ William Byam was 'Lieutenant General of Guiana and Governor of Willoughby Land', 1661-7. Even previously to this he had gained no little influence and power in these colonies. He headed the forces that defended Surinam in 1667 against the Dutch Admiral Crynsens, who, however, proved victorious.

p. 198 _my new Comedy. The Younger Brother; or, The Amorous Jilt_, posthumously produced under the auspices of, and with some alterations by, Charles Gildon at Drury Lane in 1696. George Marteen, acted by Powell, is the young and gallant hero of the comedy.

p. 200 _his Council_. In _The Widow Ranter_ Mrs. Behn draws a vivid picture of these deboshed ruffians.

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