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PORTUGAL

A late writer has encouraged us to liope, that the cliange in Portugal will have something in the national character to support it, whatever may be the event of the present war, which distresses that country. When the inquisition, the triumph of the power of the church over state, and over all the hopes of man, attempted its influence in this once happy country, the resistance was firm, bold and absolute. And what could not be obtained by force, was gained at last by superstition and artifice. The fraud was discovered and punished, but the establishment was maintained. When Portugal recovered its sovereignty, it was hoped that this favorable opportunity would be embraced to free itself from this oppression. But, astonished at its own success, and unwilling to strengthen an enemy, from the worst prejudices, those of superstition, the nation indulged an establishment from which an oppressive court soon attempted to profit, and the court was content to be a slave, if only in higher condition it might with greater freedom exercise dominion over subject slaves; and might, at so high a price, at the will of a master, presume to call such slaves its own. The exaltation of the civil authority of states, promises to be a rich blessing to mankind. It is a pleasing recollection, that in Naples, with all its superstition, the inquisition never established its power. Such examples, in the darkest times, remain to convince us, that in no age can superstition or ignorance render all nations insensible to oppression, and that such establishments were superinduced upon the christian institutions, from the character of the governments which had obtained in Europe, and not from the disposition of the people. The following extract of a letter from an English officer,

dated Lisbon, Jan. 20, 1811, will shew the debased state of mind to which the common people of that country are reduced.

“ The superstition of the Portuguese is often extremely embarrassing to our countrymen. On the day after last. Christmas, some officers who were freemasons, marched from the barracks with music, flags, and all the insignia of the fraternity, to a large room, which they had fitted up as a lodge. The vulgar here were extremely offended at this procession, and the common remark was, that “ it was no wonder evil should befal their country, when men, who could at any time raise the Devil, were allowed to parade the streets, and openly perform their incantations.” The officers who attended on this occasion, it is said, have been reprimanded ; and some of them even put under an arrest."

REMONSTRANCE OF ALMASA, Wife of Almas Ali Cawn, to General Warren Haslings.

[It may, perhaps, be necessary to inform the reader, that Almas Ali Cawn, was an East-Indian prince, who governed a fertile and populous country, within, or bordering upon the footing which the English have gained in India, by injustice, rapine, and murder. Warren Hastings, when governor general of the English possessions in that quarter, eyed with desire the riches and territory of Almas Ali Carn; but as the conduct of the prince was unimpeachable, he knew of no method which could even give a plausible sanction to the seizure of them. At length, however, he had him seized and committed to prison, on pretence that he was fomenting disturbances against the English. Almasa, the wife of Almas, though sensible of her husband's innocency, yet she was well acquainted with the hellish and bloodthirsty disposition of Hastings, and also knew the reason for which he committed her husband to prison, and that it was for the sake of obtaining his treasures. She therefore appeared before him with supplication, and on her knees begged him to spare the life of her husband, promising him all the treasures of his king

dom, as a recompence for his release; and further, that she and her husband would retire to a private station in some sequcstered corner of India, and there spend the remainder of their days, leaving their possessions in the power of Hastings. On these terms, the British robber consented to his release. Joyful flew the unfortunate Almasa, to lay her treasures at the feet of Hastings, and resigu her possessions, to save tho life of him whom she loved equal with herself. In the interim, horrid to relate! the monster, the worse than common murderer, Wurren Haslings, sent onders to the prison to have Almas Ali Cawn hung; for the detested wretch knew full well if he released hini, that another, and a very powerful witness, would be added to the many who now testify concerning his enormities, while in the station of governor in India. After Hastings had received the treasures of Almasa, and the resignation of her kingdom, be gave her an order for the release of Almus, She lastened to the prison, ånd, while enjoying in anticipation, the pleasure she should experience from a re-union with her beloved prince, the first object which struck her eyes on her entrance into the doleful prison, was the lifeless body of her husband, suspended from the wall, by a rope. Words are inadequate to paint the anguish of her soul, on beholding the dreadful spectacle. She retired, and after reason had subdued the first tumults of her grief, she wrote the British assassin a letter, expressive of her feelings, and her sense of his villany and unparalleled crimes : this letter fell into the hands of the late Dr. Ladd, who published it in blank verse, as it is at present publishedit has also been published as it was originally wrote, and the copy, it is said, differs not materially from the original.

Warren Hastings, on his recal from India, was impeached for his murdering the innocent inhabitants, destroying their princes, plundering their towns and villages, and committing other crimes of a die equally black as any which ever disgraced the darkest ages of the world. His trial is not yet finishcd ; [1789] it is generally suspected, however, by those who

are acquainted with the venality and corruption of the British Parliament, that this worst of criminals, instead of being doomed to make his exit on the gallows, or at the stake, will be rewarded with a peerage.]

As conjectured, Hastings, after undergoing a mock trial, which continued for several years, was finally acquitted. Fox, Sheridan and Burke, delivered on the side of the prosecution, perhaps the most eloquent speeches ever heard in the British Parliament; but without avail. The administration was in favor of the criminal, which was sufficient to insure his safety.

My subjects slaughter'd, my whole kingdom spoil'd..
My treasures rifled, and my husband slain-
0, say, vile monster! art thou satisfy'd ?
Hast thou, rapacious brute ! sufficient wealth ?
And, cruel murd'rer, art thou fill'd with blood ?
Perhaps, insatiate, thou art thirsting still
For human gore! 0, may'st thou ever thirst!
And may the righteous God deny thee water
To cool thy boiling blood ! inhuman wretch !
Have not the bravest of my subjects bled ?
Are not they butcher'd all--ALL massacred ?
And did not India foam again with gore ?
Where is the murderer who has slain his fellow?
Where is the robber? where the parricide ?
Approach—for ye are innocent and clean!
Your souls are whiter than the ocean foam.
Compar'd with him, the murderer of millions !
Yes, bloody brute ! the murderer of MILLIONS!
Where are the swarms that cover'd all my land ?
That cultur'd land, of which each foot was garden,
Doom'd to support the millions of my host ?

Are they not butcher'd all-all massacred ?
And butcher'd, bloody monster! by thy hands ?
But why? because, vile brute! thou must have wealth !
Because Thou must have wealth, my people bled !
The land was floated with a tide of gore !
My fields, my towns, my cities swam in blood! ..
And through all India one tremendous groan-
The groan of millions ! cchoed to the heavens.

Curst be your nation! and for ever curst
The luckless hour when India first bcheld you !
We have a custom here, as old as time,
Of honouring justice- Why? because 'tis justice :
And virtue is belov'd, because 'tis virtue.
As Indians need no hell, they know of none;
You Christians say you've one-'tis well you have-
Your crimes call loudly for it—and I'll swear,
If Hastings is not damn'd, your boasted God
Is worse than he; and heaven itself becomes
A black accomplice in the monster's guilt.

Hastings ! my husband was your prisoner;
The wealth of kingdoms flew to his relief;
You took the ransom, and you broke your faith.
ALMAs was slain—'twas perjury to your soul!
But perjury is a little crime to you;
In souls so black it seems almost a virtue.
Know, monster! know, that the prodigious wealth
You sold your soul for, was by justice gain'd.
'Twas not acquir'd by rapinc, force and murder-
The treasures of my fathers; theirs by conquest
And legal domination ; from old time
Transmitted by the father to the son,
In just succession. Now you call it yours;
And dearly have you purchased it; for know.
When the just gods shall hear the cry of blood,
And of your hands demand the souls you've murdered,
That gold will never pay their price-will never pay

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