Continental Monthly, Vol. 4, No 3, September 1863: Devoted to Literature and National PolicyVarious
History
Continental Monthly, Vol. 4, No 3, September 1863: Devoted to Literature and National Policy
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; United States -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Periodicals
I know of no reminiscences connected with Kingston of any essential
note, unless it be a horrible incident mentioned by Bryan Edwards, the
distinguished historian of the West Indies, as witnessed by himself in
1760. This was the execution of two black men, native Africans,
convicted of the murder of their master. They were exposed in the
parade, in the centre of the town, in an iron frame, and starved to
death! Free access was allowed to the crowds who wished to talk with
them, and with whom they kept up conversation, apparently supremely
indifferent to their fate. Mr. Edwards himself, after they had been
exposed some days, addressed them some questions, but could not
understand their reply. At something he said, however, they both burst
into a hearty laugh. On the morning of the ninth day one silently
expired, and the other soon followed. Punishments so barbarous strike us
with horror, but they are no gratuitous addition to slavery--they are
one of its necessary features. A relation founded purely on force can be
maintained only by terror. And where the proportion of whites is very
small, as in most of the West Indies, they must compensate by the
atrocity of their inflictions for the weakness of their numbers. On the
20th of April, 1856, there fell a rain of uncommon violence in the
parish of St. Andrew, in which I was then residing. For six hours it
seemed as if Niagara were rushing down upon our heads. The river
Wagwater, which is commonly about knee deep, ran the next morning thirty
feet high. The effect of this terrible visitation of nature was
heightened by the disclosure through it of one of the monuments of
ancient cruelty. At Halfway Tree, a few miles from Kingston, the seat of
justice for the parish of St. Andrew, and the place of sepulture for
many of the old aristocracy of the prouder days of the island, the rain
washed up an iron cage, just of size to contain a human form, and so
arranged with bars and spikes as to make it certain that the wretched
victim could only stand in one long agony of torture. Along with it were
found the bones of a woman, who had to appearance perished in this
hideous apparatus. This dreadful revelation of the past struck horror
throughout the island. The cage, with its sad contents, is still
preserved in the collection of the Society of Arts.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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