Wanderings in Three Continents

by Sir Richard Francis Burton

A MISSION TO DAHOMÉ

1863

IT is a long stride from Salt Lake City to Dahomé, from the Mormons to the Amazons, but I take my visit to the King of Dahomé as next in date. Before, however, beginning my journey to Dahomé let me touch briefly on that much-vexed and little-understood subject—​the negro.

Central Intertropical Africa, lying between north latitude 10° and south latitude 20°, at that time contained eight considerable negro circles, which may be called kingdoms. Of these there were three on the west coast north of the Equator, namely:

1st. Ashanti, the land which exports the “Minas” negroes. This despotism has been well known to us since the beginning of the present century. The capital is Kumasi, nearly 133 direct miles from the coast. This empire may be said to rest on two pillars, blood and gold. Human sacrifice was excessive, and the “customs” mean the slaughter of fellow-creatures.

2nd. Benin, a kingdom well known to old travellers, and the place where Belzoni of the Pyramids died.

I visited it in August, 1862, and my reception was the crucifixion of a negro. On the night after my arrival a second slave was slain and placed before my doorway. My lodgings commanded a view of the principal square, which was strewn with human bones, green and white.

3rd. Dahomé. From the plain and unvarnished account of this tyranny, which I am about to relate, may be estimated the amount of hopeless misery which awaited the African in Africa. And as it is unsatisfactory to point out a disease without suggesting a remedy, I will propose my panacea at the end of this essay.

We now cross the Equator and find ourselves among the great South African family. Their common origin is proved by their speech. Briefly to characterise their language, the place of our genders are taken by personal and impersonal forms, and all changes of words are made at the beginning, not, as with us, at the end. The Kaffir (Caffre race in South-east Africa) is evidently a mixed breed, and it has nearly annihilated the Bushmen and the Hottentots—​the original lords of the land. There is a curious resemblance between the Coptic, or Old Egyptian, and the Hottentot tongues, which suggests that in the prehistoric ages one language extended from the Nile Valley to the Cape of Good Hope. The true negroes, distinguished by their long, ape-like head and projecting jaws, bowed shins and elongated heels and forearms, are all the tribes of Intertropical Africa

whose blood is unmixed. This is my definition; but of this point opinions differ.

And here we may stand to view the gleam of light which the future casts across the Dark Continent. Slowly but surely the wave of Moslem conquest rolls down towards the line. Every Moslem is a propagandist, and their traders, unlike ours, carry conversion with them. This fact European missionaries deny, because they do not like it: they would rather preach to heathens than to Moslems, whom Locke describes as unorthodox Christians. They even deny the superiority of El Islam, which forbids the pagan abominations of child-murder, human sacrifice, witch-burning, ordeal-poisons, and horrors innumerable. But we, who look forward to the advent of a higher law, of a nobler humanity, hail with infinite pleasure every sign of progress.

Philanthropists, whose heads are sometimes softer than their hearts, have summed up their opinion of slavery as the “sum of all villainies.” I look upon it as an evil, to the slaveholder even more than to the slave, but a necessary evil, or, rather, a condition of things essentially connected, like polygamy, with the progress of human society, especially in the tropics. The savage hunting tribes slave for themselves; they are at the bottom of the ladder. Advancing to agricultural and settled life, man must have assistants, hands, slaves. As population increases, commerce develops itself and free labour fills the markets; the slave and the serf are emancipated: they have done

their task; they disappear from the community, never more to return. Hence every nation, Hindu and Hebrew, English and French, have had slaves; all rose to their present state of civilisation by the “sum of all villainies.” And here, when owning slavery to be an evil, I must guard against being misunderstood. It is an evil to the white man: it is often an incalculable boon to the black. In the case of the negro it is life, it is comfort, it is civilisation; in the case of the white it has done evil by retarding progress, by demoralising society, and by giving rise to a mixed race.

And there is yet another point to be settled when speaking of the negro. In the United States every black man is a negro, or, to speak politely, a “cullard pussun.” Thus the noble races of Northern Africa and the half-Arab Moors, the Nubians and Abyssinians, and the fine Kaffir (Caffre) type of South-eastern Africa are confounded with the anthropoid of Sierra Leone, of the Guinea and of the Congo regions. The families first mentioned differ more from the true negro than they do from the white man.

My first visit to Gelele, then King of Dahomé, was in May and June, 1863. Already in 1861 I had proposed to restore those amicable relations which we had with his father Gezo; but my application was not accepted by the Government. On my return to the West African coast after a six weeks’ visit to England, the journey was made on my own responsibility, and it was not pleasant. I was alone—​in

such matters negroes do not count as men—​and four mortal days upon the Slave Coast lagoons, salt, miry rivers, rich only in mud, miasma, and mosquitoes, with drenching rains and burning suns playing upon a cramping canoe without awning, are unsatisfactory even to remember. Having reached Whydah, the seaport and slave-market of Dahomé, I procured a hammock, and in three days I arrived at Kana, a summer residency for the Court, distant 7,500 miles from Agbomé, the capital.

The human sacrifices called the “nago customs” had lately ended. Twelve men had lost their lives, and, dressed in various attire like reapers, dancers, and musicians, had been exposed on tall scaffolds of strong scantling. “C’est se moquer de l’humanité,” remarked to me the Principal of the French Mission at Whydah. But the corpses had been removed, and during my flying visit of five days nothing offensive was witnessed.

At Kana I met M. Jules Gerard, first “le chasseur,” then “le tueur des lions”: we had sailed together from Europe to Madeira, and he had been sea-sick during the whole voyage. Men who have spent their youth in the excitement of dangerous sport often lose their nerve in middle age. This was the case with the unfortunate lion-hunter; the sight of the “customs” threw him into a fever. Disappointment also weighed upon his spirits. He came to West Africa in the hope that his fame as a killer of lions had preceded him; but the only lion that can exist

in that mouldy climate is the British lion, and even he is not a terrible beast to bring amongst the ladies. He expected to find Dahomé a kind of Algiers, and he exchanged a good for a very bad country. He had set his mind upon crossing the northern frontier; but the king at once put an end to that plan, and afterwards played me the same trick. He had also based his hopes upon his good shooting and upon an explosive bullet calculated to do great execution; but many of the king’s women guards could use their guns better than he did, and when the said shell was produced, Gelele sent to his stores and brought out a box-full.

M. Gerard proposed to himself a journey which would have severely tried the health of the strongest man in Europe. He resolved to make his way from the Gulf of Guinea through dangerous Timbuktu (Timbuctos) and the terrible Sahara to Algiers. I advised him to retire to Teneriffe or Madeira and recruit his energies. But he was game to the last. He made another departure through the malarious Sherbro country, south of pestilential Sierra Leone. The next thing we heard of him was when crossing the Jong River he had been drowned by the upsetting of a canoe. Somewhat later came the report that he had been foully murdered. I was rejoiced to hear that a subscription had been raised for his aged and bereaved mother.

Having reported that Dahomé was, under normal circumstances, as safe as most parts of Africa, I received

in August, 1863, orders to visit it as Commissioner. My “mission” was to make certain presents to the king, and to preach up cotton and palm oil versus war and human sacrifices. I may begin by saying I lectured hard and talked to the wind.

H.M.’s cruiser Antelope landed me at Whydah in December, the dry season, and the surf was not particularly dangerous. The beach is open; between it and Brazil rolls the broad Atlantic; and near the shore are an outer and inner sandbar with an interval forming a fine breeding-ground for sharks. A girl is occasionally thrown in as an offering to “Hu,” the sea-dog, and this does not diminish the evil.

We entered Whydah in state, paraded and surrounded by chiefs and soldiery in war dress, kilts and silver horns like the giraffe’s: their arms were long guns and short swords for decapitating the wounded. Each troop had its flag, its umbrella, its band of drums and tom-toms, its horns and cymbals. I especially remarked a gourd bottle full of, and covered with, cowries, or pebbles—​in fact the celebrated “maraca” of Brazil, which, it has been conjectured, contributed towards the formation of the word America. Every five minutes the warriors halted to drink and dance. The drink is easily described—​tafia or bad caxaca. But the dance! I defy mortal man to paint it in words. Let me briefly say that the arms are held up as though the owner were running, the elbows being jerked so as nearly to meet behind the back; the hands paddle like the

paws of a swimming dog; the feet shuffle and stamp as though treading water; the body-trunk joins in the play, and the hips move backwards and forwards to the beating time. The jig and the hornpipe are repose compared with this performance. There is also a decapitation dance over an ideal dead enemy, whose head is duly sawn off with the edge of the hand.

At Whydah I lodged at the English fort, a large double-storied building of “taipa,” tenanted by Wesleyan missionaries. It was once a strong place, as the ruined towers and burst guns show.

There were three other forts in the town. The Brazilian, which was nearest the sea, was held by Chico de Souza, the son of the late Francisco Fellis de Souza. This was a remarkable man. Born at Cachoeira, near Bahia, he emigrated to Africa, where by courage and conduct he became the Chacha, or Governor, of the Guild of Merchants, a kind of Board of Trade. He made an enormous fortune, and by his many wives he left about a hundred olive branches. Though a slave-dealer, he was a man of honour and honesty. The English had done him many an injury, yet he was invariably courteous and hospitable to every English traveller. He strongly opposed human sacrifice, and he saved many lives by curious contrivances. Of the same stamp was M. Domingos Martins of Bahia, once celebrated for enormous wealth. He died in the interval between my first and second visits. I regretted his death, for he had been most kind and attentive to me.

The Portuguese fort had also been repaired, and was inhabited by six members of the Lyons Mission, “Le Vicariate Apostolique de Dahomé.” They kept a school, and they were apparently convinced that it was hopeless to attempt the conversion of adults. The superior, Father François Borghero, had several times been ill-treated by the barbarians, and his hatred of idolatry had exposed him to not a little danger. It is rare in those lands to find a highly educated and thoroughly gentlemanly man; and, looking back, I am not surprised that all my time not occupied by study or observation was spent in the Portuguese fort.

Lastly, there was the French fort, in far better condition than the others. It was held in my time by M. Marius Daumas, agent to M. Regis (aîné) of Marseilles, and faute de mieux he was buying and shipping palm oil.

Whydah was easily seen. The houses were red “taipa” with thick thatch, and each had its large and slovenly courtyard. The market-place was a long street of small booths open to the front, where everything from a needle to a moleque (small slave-boy) could be bought. The thoroughfares were studded with small round roofs of grass, which sheltered a hideous deity called Legba. He was made of muddy clay, with holes for eyes and cowries for teeth, and he squatted before a pot in which the faithful placed provisions, which were devoured by the urubu (vulture). The chief temple was dedicated to the danh, or snake, which here was the principal

“fetish.” It was a circular hut with two doorless entrances, and the venerated boas curled themselves comfortably on the thickness of the walls. The largest was about six feet long, and it was dangerous only to rats, of which it was very fond. Several foreigners had been killed for injuring these reptiles, and Whydah, once an independent kingdom, lost her liberty through the snakes. When attacked by Dahomé in 1729, her chief defence was to place a serpent on the invaders’ path. The Dahomans killed the guardian genius and slaughtered the Whydahs till the streets ran blood. But, when the conquerors had reduced their neighbour, they gave her leave to adore the snake, and Whydah felt consoled, even happy. It sounds like a traveller’s tale. I am writing history.

At Whydah we complied with the custom of sending up a messenger to report our arrival. After three days came three officials from the palace, who presented their sticks and delivered to me a verbal invitation from their master. The sticks were white sticks, two feet long, adorned with plates of silver, cut into the shapes of lions, sharks, crocodiles, and other savage beasts. These batons served as visiting cards, and were signs of dignity. When the king made me honorary commandant of a corps of life-guardswomen, he sent me two sticks by way of commission or diploma.

We set out en route for the capital on December 13th, 1863. My little party consisted of Mr. George

Cruikshank, a naval assistant-surgeon detached to accompany me; the Rev. Mr. Bernasco, Wesleyan missionary and private friend of the king; two negro interpreters, thirty hammock men, and a troop of baggage porters. This made up a total of ninety-nine mouths, which were never idle except when asleep.

Between the seaboard and Kana, the “villegiatura,” or country capital, of the king, there were fifty-two to fifty-three direct miles. The country was here a campo, or rolling grassy prairie: there was a dense and magnificent forest. At every few miles there were settlements, now villages, once capitals which felt the weight of the Dahomé arm. The first was Savé, ancient metropolis of the Whydah kingdom, when the present Whydah, which was properly Gle-hwe, or the Garden House, was only a squalid port. The territory was only thirty miles by seven, but it mustered 200,000 fighting men. This, however, was easily explained. In Africa every male between the ages of seventeen and fifty carried arms: this would be about one-fifth of the population; consequently there was one million inhabitants in an area of two hundred square miles (4,762 souls to each mile).

After Savé came Tevé, also an ex-capital. It was a pretty little village commanded by a Dahoman “caboceer.” This frequently used word is a corruption of a Portuguese corruption, “caboceer,” or, rather, “caboceira,” and means a pillow, a headman, or a chief officer. The etiquette on arriving at such places is as follows. You alight from your hammock

before the tree under which the grandee and his party are drawn up to receive you with vociferous shouts, with singing, drumming, and dancing. After the first greetings you pledge him in fresh water, which he has tasted before you. Then you drink spirits and receive an offering of provisions. You make a return of rum and gin, the people drum, dance, sing, and shout their thanks, and you are at liberty to proceed.

On the fourth day we crossed the “Agrime Swamp,” which is hardly practicable in the wet season. The road then entered upon a true continent: we emerged from the false coast, which at one time was under water, and which is raised by secular upheaval. At the little town of Agrime we were delayed till the king, who was in his country capital, sent an escort and permission to advance.

On Friday, December 18th, we entered Kana, a large and scattered town, shaded by magnificent trees. It is about two hundred and seventy feet above sea-level, and the climate is a relief after Whydah. The morrow was fixed for our reception. It was Ember Day, and the date could hardly have been better chosen.

It is hardly possible to form an idea of the peine forte et dure attending the presentation in Africa. It is every negro’s object to keep the white man waiting as long as possible, and the visitor must be very firm and angry if he would not lose all his time.

We were duly warned to be ready at 10 a.m.; but local knowledge kept me in the house till 1 p.m. Then we sat under a tree upon the chairs which we had brought from Whydah, to witness the procession of “caboceers.” Each grandee, preceded by his flag or flags, his band of drums and rattles, and his armed retainers dancing and singing, passed before us, shaded by an enormous umbrella of many colours. Having marched round, he came up to us and snapped fingers (the local style of shaking hands); then he drank with us three toasts, beginning with his master’s health. After the “caboceers” trooped various companies—​musicians, eunuchs, and jesters. The last are buffoons, reminding one of our feudal days. Their entertainment consists in “making faces” (cara feia), as children say—​wrinkling the forehead, protruding the tongue, and clapping the jaws as apes do. They can tumble a little and “throw the cart wheel” neatly; they dance in a caricatured style, draw in the stomach to show that they are hungry, pretend to be deaf and dumb, smoke a bone by way of a pipe, and imitate my writing by scratching a sweet potato with a stick.

The review over, we made for the palace in a long procession; my men, wearing bright red caps and waist-cloths, carried the flag of St. George. The royal abodes are all on the same pattern: enclosures of “taipa” wall, four courses high, and pierced with eight or ten gates. The irregular square or oblong

may be half a mile in circumference. At the principal entrances are thatched sheds like verandahs, one hundred feet long by fourteen to fifteen feet deep. The roof ledge rises sixty to seventy feet high, enough for two stories, whilst the eaves of thick and solidly packed straw rested upon posts barely four feet tall. The inner buildings, as far as they could be seen, corresponded with the external, and the king held his levées in one of these barn-like sheds. The royal sleeping-places, which were often changed, were described to me as neat rooms, divided from the courtyard by a wall with a chevaux de frise of human jawbones. The floors were paved with the skulls of conquered chiefs, forming a descente de lit upon which Gelele had the daily pleasure of trampling.

The complicated reception was typical of the Dahoman military empire. We found, ranged in a line outside the gate, twenty-four umbrellas or brigades belonging to the highest male dignitaries. The army, or, what was here synonymous, the Court, was divided into two portions, male and female, or, rather, female and male, as the women troops took precedence. They occupied the inside of the palace, and they were the king’s bodyguard in peace or war. Each line had a right and a left wing, so called from their position relative to the throne. The former, which is the senior, was commanded by the “min-gau” who cumulated the offices of premier and head executioner. His lieutenant was the adanejan. Dahoman officials, for

better espionage, were always in pairs. The general of the left wing was the “meu,” who collected revenue and tribute, declared war, and had charge of all strangers. His alter ego was styled the ben-wan-ton. Under these great men were smaller great men, and all were de facto as well as de jure slaves to the king.

[[See Page 213.]

BURTON VISITS THE KING OF DAHOMÉ.

Presently we were summoned to enter the palace. We closed our umbrellas by order, walked hurriedly across a large yard, and halted at a circle of white sand spread upon the clayey ground. Here we bowed to a figure sitting under the shady thatch; and he returned, we were told, the compliment. The chief ministers who accompanied us fell flat upon the sand, kissed it, rolled in it, and threw it by handfuls over their heads and robes of satin and velvet. The ceremony is repeated at every possible opportunity; and when the king drinks, all the subjects turn their backs upon him and shout.

Then we advanced to the clay bench upon which King Gelele sat. After the usual quadruple bows and hand-wavings, he stood up, tucked in his toga, descended to the ground, and, aided by nimble feminine fingers, donned his sandals. He then greeted me with sundry vigorous wrings à la John Bull, and inquired after Queen Victoria, the Ministry, and the people of England, which country is supposed to be like Dahomé, but a little larger and richer.

Our chairs were then placed before the seat, to which he returned, and we drank the normal three

toasts to his health. On these occasions it is not necessary to empty the glass, which may be handed to an attendant. Salutes having been fired, we retired a hundred feet from the presence and sat under giant umbrellas.

Gelele was then about forty-five years old, upwards of six feet high, olive complexioned, athletic and well made, with clear signs of African blood. His dress was simple to excess: a loose shirt of plain white stuff edged with green silk, a small smoking-cap, a few iron rings on his arms, and a human tooth strung round his neck. The only splendour was in his gold and scarlet sandals, here distinctive of royalty. They were studded with crosses, also royal emblems. He called himself a Christian, and he was a Moslem as well: like all barbarians, he would rather believe too much than too little, and he would give himself every chance in both worlds.

Under the thatch behind the king were his wives, known by their handsome dresses, silver hair studs, and the absence of weapons. They atoned for want of beauty by excessive devotion to their lord, who apparently did everything by proxy except smoke his long-stemmed clay pipe.

The inner court of the palace reflected the outer, and the women sat in the sun along the external wall of the royal shed with their musket-barrels bristling upwards. The right wing was commanded by a “premieress,” who executed all women; the left was also under the she “meu.” A semicircle of

bamboos lying on the ground separated the sexes at levées. The instrument of communication was a woman-messenger, who, walking up to the bamboos, delivered her message on all fours to the “meu.” The latter proclaimed it to the many.

I must here say a few words about the Amazons, or fighting women. The corps was a favourite with the late king, who thus checked the turbulence and treachery of his male subjects. The number was estimated at 10,000 to 12,000; I do not believe it exceeded 2,500. They were divided into blunderbuss-women, elephant-hunters, beheaders, who carry razors four feet long, and the line armed with muskets and short swords.

All the Amazons were ex-officio royal wives, and the first person who made the king a father was one of his soldieresses. It was high treason to touch them even accidentally; they lodged in the palace, and when they went abroad all men, even strangers, had to clear off the road. Gelele often made his visitors honorary commandants of his guard of Amazons (I was made one); but this did not entitle them to inspect companies.

Such a régime makes the Amazons, as might be expected, intolerably fierce. Their sole object in life is blood-spilling and head-snatching. They pride themselves upon not being men, and with reason. The soldiers blink and shrink when they fire their guns; the soldieresses do not. The men run away; the women fight to the bitter end. In the last

attack on the city of Abokuta (March 15th, 1864) several of the Amazons of my own regiment scaled the walls; their brethren-in-arms hardly attempted the feat.

Dahomé thus presented the anomaly of an African kingdom in which women took precedence of men. Hence every employé of Government had to choose a “mother”—​that is to say, some elderly Amazon officer who would look after his interests at headquarters. Often he had two, an “old mother,” dating from the days of the late king, and a “young mother,” belonging to the actual reign. He had to pay them well, or his affairs were inevitably bad. Thus there was also a Brazilian, an English, and a French “mother”; and visitors of those nations were expected to propitiate their fond and unpleasant parents with presents of cloth, jewelry, perfumes, and so forth.

The levée ended with a kind of parade. A few simple manœuvres and many furious decapitation dances were performed by a select company of the young Amazons. They were decently dressed in long sleeveless waistcoats, petticoats of various coloured cottons, secured at the waist by a sash and extending to the ankles, whilst narrow fillets of ribbon secured their hair and denoted their corps. Their arms were muskets and short swords, and all had belts, bullet bags, and cartridge boxes.

When the sun set a bottle of rum was sent to us. At this hint we rose and prepared to retire. Gelele again descended from his seat and accompanied

us to the gate, preceded by a buzzing swarm of courtiers, who smoothed every inch of ground for the royal foot. He finally shook hands with us, and promised to meet us in a few days at Agbomé, the capital.

We lost no time in setting out for Agbomé, and were surprised to find an excellent carriage road, broad and smooth, between the two cities. Agbomé had no hotels, but we managed lodgings at the house of the bukono, a high officer who was doctor and wizard to the Court and curator of strangers, whom he fleeced pitilessly.

I will now touch briefly on the ill-famed “customs” of Dahomé. The word is taken from the Portuguese costume, and here means the royal sacrifices. Many travellers have witnessed them, but no one has attempted to inquire into their origin. I attribute these murderous customs not to love of bloodshed, but simply to filial piety.

The Dahoman, like the ancient Egyptian, holds this world to be his temporary lodging. His own home is Ku-to-men, or Deadman’s Land. It is not a place of rewards and punishments, but a Hades for ghosts, a region of shades, where the king will rule for ever and where the slave will always serve. The idea is ever present to the popular mind. When, for instance, sunshine accompanies rain the Dahoman says the spirits are marketing. In Brazil the fox is marrying; in England the devil is beating his wife.

A deceased king cannot, therefore, be sent to Ku-to-men

as a common negro. At his interment a small court must be slain—​leopard-wives (that is to say, young and handsome wives), old wives, ministers, friends, soldiers, musicians, men and women. These are the grand customs, which may average one thousand to two thousand deaths. The annual customs, which we were now to witness, reinforce the ghostly court, and number from eighty to one hundred head.

But destruction of life does not end here. All novelties, such as the arrival of an officer in uniform, must be reported to the dead by the living king. A captive or a criminal is summoned, and the message is given to him. He is made to swallow a bottle of rum, whose object is to keep him in a good humour, and his head is then and there struck off. Only on one occasion did the patient object to the journey, saying that he did not know the road to Ku-to-men. “You shall soon find it out!” cried the king, who at once decapitated the wretch without rum. If any portion of the message be forgotten, another victim must be despatched with it. A hard-hearted traveller calls this the postscript.

A Dahoman king neglecting these funeral rites would have been looked upon as the most impious of men, and a powerful priesthood would soon have sent him to Ku-to-men on his own account. It may now be understood how hopeless was my mission. It may be compared, without disrespect, to memorialising the Vatican against masses for the dead. The king’s sole and necessary answer was non possumus.

The “customs” began on December 28th, 1863, and ended on January 25th, 1864. They were of two kinds. The first was performed by Gelele, king of the city; the second are in the name of Addo-Kpon, ruler of the “bush,” or country—​also Gelele. The ruler of Dahomé was thus double, two persons in one, and each had his separate palace and property, mothers and ministers, Amazons, officers, and soldiers. I have conjectured that the reason of this strange organisation is that the “bush-king” may buy and sell, which the “city-king” holds to be below his dignity.

The description of a single “custom” will suffice. About midday of December 28th, when summoned to the palace, we passed through the market-place, and we found the victim-shed finished and furnished. This building was a long, wall-less barn one hundred feet long, the roof was a thatch covered with a striped cloth on a blood-red ground and supported by tree trunks. On the west was a two-storied tower, sixty feet high, with four posts in front of each floor. There were on this occasion twenty victims sitting on stools, each before his post, with his arms around it and his wrists lashed together outside it. The confinement was not cruel; each had a slave to flap away the flies, all were fed four times a day, and they were released at night. The dress was a long white nightcap and a calico shirt with blue and crimson patches and bindings. A white man would have tried to escape; these negroes are led like

black sheep to the slaughter. They marked time as the bands played, and they chatted together, apparently quizzing us. I may here remark that at my request the king released half of these men, and that not one of them took the trouble to thank me or to beg alms from me.

Hardly were we seated when Gelele, protected by a gorgeous canopy umbrella, came forth from the palace with Amazons and courtiers in a dense, dark stream. Having visited his fetish gods, he greeted us and retired to his seat under the normal shed. As at Kana, his wives crowded together behind and the soldieresses ranged themselves in front. The ceremonies consisted of dancing, drumming, and distributing decorations—​necklaces of red and yellow beads. There was fearful boasting about feats of past valour and bravery to come. About sunset the king suddenly approached us, and I thanked him for the spectacle. He then withdrew, and we lost no time in following his example.

Nothing could be poorer than this display: any petty Indian rajah can command more wealth and splendour. All was barren barbarism, and the only “sensation” was produced by a score of human beings condemned to death and enjoying the death show.

On the morrow I sent a message to the palace, officially objecting to be present at any human sacrifice, and declaring that if any murder took place before me I should retire to the coast. The reply was that few were to be executed, that the victims would only be

malignant war captives and the worst of criminals, and that all should be killed at night. With this crumb of comfort I was compelled to rest satisfied. Hitherto gangs of victims cruelly gagged had been paraded before visitors, in whose hearing and often before whose sight the murders were committed. Something is gained by diminishing the demoralising prominence of these death scenes. It is not so long ago since it was determined that the “customs” of England should be performed within the prisons, and not further debase the mob of spectators.

The catastrophe took place on what is called the “zan nya nyana,” or the evil night. At intervals we heard the boom of the death-drum announcing some horrible slaughter. It was reported that the king had with his own hand assisted the premier-executioner.

On the next morning we were summoned to the palace, whose approach was a horror. Four corpses, habited in the criminal shirts and nightcaps, sat as though in life upon the usual dwarf stools. The seats were supported upon a two-storied scaffold made of four rough beams, two upright and two horizontal, and about forty feet high. On a similar but smaller erection hard by were two victims, one above the other. Between these substantial erections was a tall gallows of thin posts, from which a single victim dangled by his heels. Lastly, another framework of the same kind was planted close to our path, and attached to the cross-bar, with fine cords round the ankles and above the knees, hung two corpses side by side and head

downwards. The bodies, though stiff, showed no signs of violence: the wretches had probably been stifled.

At the south-eastern gate of the palace we found freshly severed heads in two batches of six each, surrounded by a raised rim of ashes. The clean-cut necks were turned upwards, and the features were not visible. Within the entrance were two more heads; all the bodies had been removed, so as not to offend the king.

Thus on Gelele’s “evil night” twenty-three human beings had lost their lives. And this is but one act in the fatal drama called the “customs.” It is said that an equal number of women were slaughtered within the walls of the royal abode, and I had every reason to believe the report.

I was kept waiting more than a month in this den of abominations before the king could enter upon public affairs. He was discontented with the presents sent from England, and he was preparing to attack a huge Nago city—​Abeokuta—​where, by-the-bye, he was signally defeated.

When my last visit to him took place he stubbornly ignored, even in the least important matters, the wishes of H.M.’s Government. Filled with an exaggerated idea of his own importance, and flattered almost to madness by his courtiers, he proceeded to dictate his own terms. His next thought was an ignoble greed for presents. He bade me a friendly adieu, and asked me to visit him next year with an English carriage and horses, a large silk pavilion, and other such little gifts.

I refused to promise, and I resolved not to put my head for the third time into the hyæna’s mouth. For although Gelele has never shed the blood of a white man, he might, at the bidding of his fetishers, send a new kind of messenger to Ku-to-men by means of a cup of coffee or a dish of meat. I was glad when I found myself safely back in the pestilential climate of Fernando Po.

A TRIP UP THE CONGO
1863

A TRIP UP THE CONGO[7]

1863

BEFORE starting on an exploration into any part of Africa (especially the West Coast), it is essential that the traveller should be properly equipped with the necessary kit both for the inward and outward man. Clothing, blankets, and waterproofs of every description; tea, coffee, and sugar if they be desirable; a few bottles of real genuine cognac if come-at-able, or some ten years’ old Jamaica rum if attainable.

On the occasion of our starting from Fernando Po in August 1863, for the purpose of ascending the river Congo, our kit consisted of one bullock-trunk, one small portable canteen, one dressing-bag, two uniform-cases, one hat-box, one gun-case, one tin box, one deal case of bread, one package of tins of milk, one canteen of cooking utensils, one tin of green tea, one ditto coffee, one small box of medical comforts, etc., two striped bags, a white canvas bag containing newspapers, three guns, two walking

sticks, one camp bed and mats, two revolvers, one simpiesometer, a pocket azimuth, an instrument case, one powder horn, one shot-bag and hunting ditto. At St. Paul de Loanda we added two cases of gin, and at Point Banana twelve pieces of siamois, or fancy cloths, twenty pieces riscados, or blue and white stripe, and ten pieces satin stripe, besides six thousand five hundred beads, china, and imitation corals. To all this we afterwards received at Embomma fifteen kegs of gunpowder and ten demijohns of rum.

H.M.S. Torch took us down to Loango Bay, and there Captain Smith transferred us on board the sloop-of-war Zebra, Captain Hoskins, who in his turn took us to St. Paul’s and put us in the hands of Captain Perry, of H.M.S. Griffon, and this latter vessel took us into the Congo; and forthwith we commenced a start up the river on August 31st, 1863.

The usual mode of ascending the river up as far as Embomma is by means of small fore and aft schooners, generally from twenty to forty tons measurement, which are heavily sparred and well supplied with canvas. Our gear was taken by the Griffon’s boats and put on board the French schooner Esperance. We had a fine breeze that afternoon, and the Esperance sailed up the river most gallantly. The party on board consisted of myself, Captain Perry, Mr. Bigley, and Monsieur Pisseaux, a Frenchman; besides William Dean, boatswain, my servant, four French native soldiers, and the schooner’s crew.

Wednesday, September 2nd.—​We breakfasted at a Portuguese factory, and soon after breakfast we weighed anchor and sailed up the river, arriving betimes at Porto da Lentra. In the afternoon we left Porto da Lentra, and proceeded. Passed several villages on the port hand. Boat got ashore several times after dark. About nine o’clock the Missolongis hailed and asked who we were. When I answered, they said they would pay us a visit during the night. We prepared to give them a warm reception. During the night we rounded Point Devil, a most dangerous place for navigation. Anchored at 10.30 p.m.

Thursday, September 3rd.—​Arrived at Embomma at 1.30 p.m. Embomma contained a French factory and several Portuguese establishments. At 9.30 we got under weigh again, and in about an hour afterwards entered a part of the river where it assumes the appearance of an inland lake, some parts nearly two miles wide. The scenery here is varied, but principally hilly, the highest of the hills being about 1,500 feet above the level of the river. Here we met a native chief in his canoe. He came to levy contributions from us. His people, who were armed with guns and hatchets, made various warlike gestures and ordered us to stop. Monsieur Pisseaux being our guide and adviser, we were compelled to pay one bottle of rum and a piece of cloth twelve fathoms in length.

Captain Perry shot a fish-eagle, which was considered a fine achievement, as very few of that species can be shot on account of their inclination to fly high

in the air and to perch on the highest trees. About three o’clock we landed to rest, the scenery still bearing the same character, only perhaps the hills were a little higher than those we had passed. The grass was dry all over the hills (indeed, everywhere except close to the water’s edge); and little animal life being visible, the country had a very barren and desolate appearance. The trees were not of much consequence, and most of those we saw were stunted and leafless. The chief were the baobab, or monkey bread-fruit tree, the fan palm, or palmijra, a few palm-nut trees, and a species of large spreading tree well scattered over the water side. Its leaves were of a dark green colour, about the size of the lime leaf; its fruit, a long reddish plum, was said to be eaten by monkeys, and also to be fit for human food.

Here was the farthest extent of Monsieur Pisseaux’s knowledge of the river, and, to our future sorrow, we landed in the banza, or district, of Nokki. We cooked some food on shore, and messengers were despatched with a bottle of gin to the king of Kayé.

Tuesday, September 8th.—​We now left the river for the interior, and found the road excessively irksome and trying to our wind and legs; nothing but hills and dales, the descents and ascents very difficult, and stony withal, the soles of our feet receiving a most disagreeable grating on small quartz and schistus. Passing one or two fields of native beans, we arrived at the village of Kindemba.

After resting here for a short time we again

started, and ascended a hill some six or seven hundred feet in height, and came to another village, where we saw something like a large baracoon for slaves, but it turned out to be a fetish house for circumcised boys.

Not many minutes’ walk from this was the village of Kayé. On entering it we were marched off to see the king. We found him seated in state, dressed in a motley garb of European manufacture: a white shirt with collar turned down, a crimson velvet loin-cloth, fringed with gold and tied round the waist by means of a belt, and a beautifully mounted sheath-knife stuck in the belt. The handle of the knife was made of nickel silver, and very showily ornamented with imitation emeralds and ruby garnets. Over all he wore a red beadle’s cloak, and on his head a helmet somewhat resembling those worn by English Life Guardsmen, but it was evidently of French manufacture. The king was very young, apparently not more than twenty years of age, very smooth-faced, and looked quite shy when he came vis-à-vis with his illustrious visitors. When we were all seated, I on a chair, and the others on a covered table, the courtiers sat down on the ground at a respectful distance. The king’s old father was seated on the ground before his son.

The king’s name was Sudikil, and that of his father Gidi Mavonga, both of them very bright specimens of their race. After some compliments, Sudikil received his presents—​one piece of fine fancy cloth and a

bottle of gin. The carriers received five bunches of beads. But it appeared that the king was not satisfied with his presents, and he would give us nothing to eat. Therefore my companions, Captain Perry, Dean, and Monsieur Pisseaux, at once started for the river to return to Embomma. I, however, remained, and engaged Nchama, a native who spoke African idiomatic Portuguese, to act as interpreter and go-between. I may here mention that our party when it first started from the river consisted of fifty-six persons, but it continued to augment until our arrival at Kayé, when it mounted up to one hundred and fifty. We were domiciled for the night in the house of Siko Chico Mpambo, a man who put himself up as a French interpreter, without even knowing one personal pronoun of that language. In the evening the rabble that pretended to have escorted our party down to the canoe returned and requested some gin, and I gave them a bottle. The prince likewise sent for a bottle, which he received.

Wednesday, September 9th.—​Early in the morning we received a visit from Gidi Mavonga and his son King Sudikil. They examined all our travelling-gear, whilst my servant kept sentry at the door to prevent their escort from going into the house. This consisted of ten men, four of whom carried matchlocks. After about half an hour’s palaver, everything was handed over to Gidi, who promised to start for the Congo in three days, and, in consideration of receiving the said goods, bound himself to take us there, bring

us back, and feed us by the way. This arrangement was a good one, as it secured the friendship of the old chief and prevented him and his people from robbing and poisoning us.

We later received a visit from Tetu Mayella, king of an adjacent village called Neprat. He was accompanied by about twenty followers, all of whom came to us for the express purpose of getting some rum. Tetu Mayella wrangled for two hours with Gidi and another half-hour with Sudikil about a bottle of grog, and ultimately despatched Nchama to plead with me for him. I referred him back to Gidi Mavonga, and, after a further consultation, Tetu received one bottle of gin, in return for which he came personally and presented us with two fowls. This was a godsend, as the day before we had nothing to eat but a few pieces of dry bread, and water to wash it down. A pig was then slaughtered with great ceremony. The carcass was cut up and divided according to custom, the king getting the lion’s share, and the other personages an allowance in accordance with their rank. We made ready to retire to rest after eating a good bush dinner and drinking plenty of palm wine. Gidi Mavonga paid us a visit late in the evening, and final arrangements were made with him to proceed first to Yellalla, or the Congo Cataracts, and afterwards to St. Salvador, or Great Gongo City.

Thursday, September 10th.—​The direction of the Yellalla Cataracts from the village of Kayé was

east-north-east, and that of St. Salvador, or Congo, east-south-east. This morning we had dandelion coffee for the fourth time. It was a most excellent decoction, acting, when used judiciously, on the liver and kidneys. We found that the natives breakfasted on beans, ground nuts, fish, and beef when it can be had, and the second course is a good jorum of palm wine. At noon we began packing up, in order to start for Gidi Mavonga’s village. The natives of the Congo are divided into two classes only, the mfumo, or freeman, and the muleque, or slave. The mfumo marries amongst his own slaves, or, properly speaking, retainers, and the children born by him are in their turn mfumos, or freemen. The word slave is here quite improperly used, for the slave in reality is a freer man than the king himself. Everything the king possesses, except his wives, is literally at the disposal of the slave. Unquestionably the slave is the bodyguard of the mfumo, and, as regards work, he does what he likes, sleeps when he chooses, attends to his private affairs when he pleases, and if his master finds fault with his conduct, the chances are, if his own country be not too far away from the place of his thraldom, he will leave his master and make a bold effort to reach his native land.

Friday, September 11th.—​Very early this morning we were astonished by hearing a yelling noise from a lot of women. To use a Scotch phrase, it was a regular “skirl.” It so happened that a woman

was bearing a child, and these noises were made either to drown the pains of labour or to welcome the little stranger into his trouble. In any case, we pitied the poor sufferer in travail, for the screeching must have given her an awful headache.

Gidi Mavonga came to take us to his village of Chingufu this morning. It was not a long journey, we found. Gidi’s house was a facsimile of the one we had left at Kayé: an oval building upheld by two upright posts, and the roof supported by a long stout beam laid on the top of, and tied to, the uprights. The hut boasted of three doors, one at each end and one at the side. Doubtless, fox-like, the suspicious native makes all these doors to serve as mediums of escape in case of war or a slave-hunt. There was a partition in the centre dividing the hut into two rooms, the first being a general room, and the second the sanctum sanctorum, accessible only to the husband and wife. The furniture was very simple, consisting of a native bed in each room. The walls and roof were composed of bamboos and grass very neatly tied together. There was no flooring but the clay bottom, and the whole looked very clean and simple.

Gidi appeared to be a great worshipper of the native fetish Ibamba, or Nzamba, a variation of the devil. The natives called him Masjinga, and he is a house-god, usually keeping guard at the bedsides. The idol in Gidi’s hut was a peculiarly droll-looking object. He was an image about three

feet in height, with his mouth wide open, his under lip hanging down, and the upper drawn up as if by some strong convulsions, his nose flat as Africa, and the nostrils very much inflated. His eyes were composed of pieces of looking-glass, and in his belly was inserted a penny mirror, but for what purpose we could not discover. On his head was an English billycock hat, and about his shoulders were hung different kinds of medicines, a calabash, and a knife. The face of this wonderful figure was part black, part red, and part white. On the walls of the house, and particularly about the bed, were hung medicines, spells, and potions of every description, supposed to be antidotes against every evil to which the human frame is subject; medicines to prevent gun-shots from taking effect, spells against ill-luck, potions to have wives and plenty of children, and, in fine, charms to protect against the wrath and subtlety of Nzamba.

About midday we had a visit from some neighbouring chiefs, all gaily attired. They wore red nightcaps on their heads, and this was the only head-dress I ever saw adopted by the men on great occasions, Sudikil’s military helmet excepted. The women always went bareheaded. I had often wondered where in the wide universe old clothes went to after they are purchased by the Jews in London. The mystery was here solved, for I found kings wearing second-hand livery suits, with the coronet and crest of a marquis on the button, and

princes disporting themselves in marines’ jackets of the last century, besides a variety of heterogeneous habiliments, such as old superfine black coats which had been worn threadbare, and pantaloons whose seats had become quite glazed from long service. All these had been cleaned and turned inside out by the Jews; and, although some would scarcely bear the tug of needle and thread, they were sent out to the west coast of Africa as bran-new garments, love of dress entirely blinding the natives to their defects. Our visitors were regaled with palm wine and a bottle of gin, and after laughing and talking for a long time they went away.

About sunset we witnessed a native game, which certainly was one of the liveliest sights since our start up the river. A number of Gidi’s slaves assembled in a large open space between the houses, and, dividing themselves into two parties, began throwing a ball from one to another. Upwards of twenty were engaged in this game, and the fun consisted in the one side dodging about in all directions, and preventing its opponents from catching the ball by playing the game into each others’ hands. The ball was made of palm fibre tied round with a central fibre of the plantain leaf. After sunset there was a wild country-dance, which was kept up to a late hour.

Saturday, September 12th.—​The chief Furano, who was expected from Embomma, arrived the next morning, and we started at once for the cataracts. After marching for a short time and passing two or

three small villages, we commenced a descent in a north-easterly direction, and, journeying at a rapid pace for about three miles, we entered the village of Chinsawu, the residence of Prince Nelongo. Arrived at Nelongo’s, we were detained for about half an hour, waiting in the verandah of an empty house, after which we were honoured by the presence of the prince, who intimated his pleasure to us by asserting that unless the same presents as those given to Sudikil were given to him, it would be impossible for us to pass his place. This was preposterous, for we only stopped to breakfast here, whereas we were four or five days in the territory of Sudikil. It was remarkable that nearly all the people in this region, from the prince down to the smallest child, were diseased with the itch. We observed them lying on the ground from morning till night, with their skins so covered with dust that a hippopotamus was a clean beast when compared with these beings, who ranked in animate nature as lords of creation.

We were comfortably housed at Nelongo’s village, but Gidi and Nelongo were palavering all day, hammer and tongs. I noticed at Nelongo’s village, as I did in other places on the banks and neighbourhood of the Congo, that all the children were afraid of the white man, for when any person attempted to bring them in proximity with me, the little brats howled as if Satan from the infernal regions had got hold of them. Most of the women were of the same texture as their progeny.

Sunday, September 13th.—​After coffee this morning all the great folks assembled in front of our house and recommenced the half-finished palaver of last evening. Council present: myself, Gida Mavonga, Nelongo, Furano, Siko Npamba, and Interpreter Nchama. All ended in talk, and Nchama threatened to resign. The native idea of the riches possessed by a white man is fabulous. Nelongo refused to believe that we had not sufficient cloth with us to answer his most exorbitant demands. We had a respectable present for him; but that did not satisfy his avarice, and he wanted more than we had taken with us for the whole road. As there was another prince to consult in the matter, it was agreed, at my suggestion, that the whole of our gear should be submitted to examination. The expected prince arrived, carried on a hammock, and, after a heavy palaver and a great deal of yelling from the women, he went away; and then we had another visit from Nelongo, who made some very noisy demonstrations, but as the noise was conducted in the language of the country, we were not able to understand a single syllable. Suffice it to say that the whole affair ended by his receiving an additional supply of cotton, not from us, but from Gidi Mavonga. This Nelongo handed to one of his armed slaves, and then went away; but he returned again in about five minutes and intimated that the palaver was all right, which caused Gidi and his men to make demonstrations of approval by jumping up and running some paces from the house and attacking

a supposed enemy. Then they returned to the house, Furano holding the supposed wounded head of Gidi Mavonga. But the truth must be told: the whole batch of the debaters had got drunk on a mixture of palm wine and Hollands. Hence the noise, which, however, I did not allow to affect me, for I assumed during the greater part of the row the most stoical silence, and pretended to go to sleep. These tactics were successful, and we were shortly afterwards informed that we could depart in peace.

We were ready to start by twelve o’clock noon. The sun was very hot, and the thermometer stood at 90° in the shade; but we were glad to get out of a place which reminded us of Bedlam, and therefore set out in all haste, making a slight descent into a valley, and then ascending a peculiarly formed hill, the perpendicular height of which might be a hundred and fifty feet, and from whose summit we obtained a glorious view of the river, which was seen some eight hundred feet below us, flowing down rapidly and majestically to the sea. But the utter barrenness of the country in the vicinity of its banks carried away every association of fertility. This view of the country, however, is given at the end of the dry season, when almost every tree loses its leaves, and the green grass becomes withered and dried up.

From this point we began a decline down hill which beggars description. We had not walked above a quarter of a mile before we arrived at a part of our road where, without the least exaggeration, the path,

if such it could be called, was only two degrees from the perpendicular, and as slippery as ice, owing to the loose stones and dry grass that created a stumbling-block for the feet, and we had frequently to descend sitting instead of walking down. Alpine and Vesuvian mountaineers, do try the banks of the Congo.

The distance from Nelongo’s village to the banks of the river was about five miles, and on reaching the water-side we found ourselves exactly at the junction of the Nomposo with the Congo River. The Nomposo, we were informed, extended all the way to St. Salvador, but was not navigable, even for canoes. There were some fishermen who followed their vocation at the mouth of this small river, whose services were soon brought into requisition to take us across the Nomposo and land us a little above its mouth, but on the bank of the great river. This landing was the place where the fishermen dried their fish, and was called Munyengi Asiko. Being heartily tired, we very gladly sat down, and ultimately got ourselves ready to pass the night in the open air, not for the first time. Just about sunset this evening we were visited by one of those nasty drizzling showers, commonly called a Scotch mist. In about an hour it increased to a smart shower; but, luckily, we were well provided with good waterproof sheets and coats, so that no harm happened to the gear or to ourselves.

Monday, September 14th.—​Great excitement this morning, having on the previous night lost my tablets of daily memoranda. An offer of four fathoms of

cloth was made to any person who would recover the same and return them to their owner. The whole batch of carriers and fishermen were instantly hard at work trying to find the missing tablets. After twenty minutes’ search they were found in Captain Tuckey’s book on the Congo.

Another row amongst the natives. It appears that some two days previously a man had supplied another with two jars of palm wine upon condition of his receiving some fish in return. The unlucky fisherman, after drinking the wine, did not succeed in catching fish for two days, and consequently was unable to pay his debt. Hence the high words and brandishing of hatchets on the part of the wine merchant and his people. But that was all; no blows were struck, for the dog that barks very loud seldom bites.

It is always advisable in travelling through Africa to keep guides and interpreters ignorant of your possessions, for they are sure to make some excuse or other to fleece you. This morning we had evidence of this. We had paid our guide everything that was necessary for the road, yet he sent the interpreter to ask us for a piece of fancy cloth which he knew I had. I had to grant his request, otherwise I might have had to give up the journey, for ten chances to one he would have left me in a huff.

At eight o’clock we crossed the river, the time occupied being a quarter of an hour. We reached the village of Vivi after half an hour’s march; distance, one and a half miles. Nesalla was the name of the king

at Vivi; he spoke Portuguese and dressed plainly. One of his attendants, however, wore a hussar’s jacket. Nesalla sent three bunches of plantains and seven fowls for the expedition. At twelve o’clock I washed, more or less in public, and, in the meantime, the women and children performed a grigri for goodness to be bestowed on their town and prince. One of the children beat on a long native drum, another performed on a native whistle attached to an image of Diabolus, and the women used their tongues very freely. It was a horrid din.

About two o’clock Nesalla came with upwards of one hundred men and commenced a long palaver about our going on to Yellalla. Five or six persons spoke, and the conference lasted one hour. The conclusion showed that the cloth we had with us was not enough, and that the princes at Yellalla must get a different piece from that which was before the conference, and no division into two pieces must be made of it under any consideration whatever. As the whole affair was conducted in a most good-humoured manner, I agreed to the terms.

In the evening the inhabitants of the village had a dance. Those who have witnessed the Spanish cachucha need scarcely be told what this dance was. The cachucha is a very good dance in its way; but the Congo dance beats it hollow, because it has more pith in it than the cachucha. The fun was kept up till a late hour, every one, both great and small, young and old, joining in it, so that in the end, what

with palm wine and excitement, the people became quite unruly, and when they left off the babel of tongues was unbearable. They came to our quarters, aroused us out of our sleep by opening the door and very unceremoniously pulling our clothes from us. They wanted some sort of covering, and thinking we might be kind enough to let them have something, took the liberty of taking without asking. We could not, however, submit to this. We permitted old Gidi Mavonga to sleep in the house, and turned the rest out of doors.

Tuesday, September 15th.—​Early this morning we started for the Banza Nculu. The scenery along the road was varied and picturesque. The first view we had of the river was from an eminence about a mile from Vivi on the road to the Banza Nculu. Here we had a view of the Congo as it was flowing onwards, and round about in all directions were hills and dales adding a panoramic beauty to the scene. We had to descend from the summit of the first hill and ascend a second one much higher than the first, and from here we again obtained views of the Congo. One, the lower view, appeared like a lake, apparently shut in on all sides by hills, whose lofty summits stretched far and wide on every side, and some of them peered to the height of above a thousand feet into the heavens. Proceeding onwards, we ascended a third eminence, but by this time we had lost sight of the river, and our path became more level for a short distance.

We now commenced a gradual descent, but before

doing so we obtained an open and extensive view of the valley that lay between us and the Banza Nculu. On descending into the valley, we found the soil a dark clay mould with fewer stones on it than on that of the country through which we had hitherto passed. It was certainly a fine sight to behold, and the best addition to the scene was the caravan which formed the expedition now disappearing down a valley, now rising to the top of one of the many hillocks with which the valley abounded. The fertility of the soil may be observed here from the fact of the grass growing to the height of ten or twelve feet, and here also the native beans grow to a greater height than did those we saw in other parts of the country. In the valley we crossed three streams of running water, all feeders of the big river; and considering that it was the latter end of the dry season, these streams all had a fair supply of water.

We now arrived at the summit of the hill of the Banza Nculu, and as the three kings and three interpreters could not be seen at once, in consequence of their having first to settle some palaver about fish, we were compelled to bivouac under a large tree in the environs of Nculu until their highnesses might condescend to give us an audience. We breakfasted under the large tree, and were amused before and after breakfast by a number of urchins (say eight or ten) who had undergone the ceremony of circumcision, and who delighted in making a churring noise—​a ch-u-r-r decidedly intended to frighten us into hysterics. But

our nerves were stronger than they at first imagined, and I went up to them and complimented them on their performance. The dress of these youths was a crinoline made of palm leaves, extending from their armpits down to their knees, or a little below that. Their arms, neck, and face were chalked white, and one of them had on a mask representing a white man with whiskers. The performance of this mask was admirably wild and laughable.

About two o’clock one of the three interpreters came to see us. He was dressed in a trade shirt and red nightcap, and was accompanied by a few men only, and had merely come to show us to a house.

At half-past three we heard the beating of a drum and cone, and, on looking out at the door, saw a procession making its way to the house in which we were lodged. I was already seated at the door, and, the whole cavalcade coming up, they seated themselves around the front of the house in a semicircle. Altogether there might have been about two hundred and fifty persons, including all sexes and sizes. Three ministers belonging to the three kings were the principal personages, and had come as ambassadors for their masters. One of them had already given his opinion in a refusal to permit me to pass on to Sundi, and it now remained for the whole council to arrive at the ultimate decision of Yes or No. The first conference assembled and broke up in a very short time. The beginning appeared favourable, for the ministers retired amidst

the noise of drum and cone. The latter is an iron musical instrument peculiar to the country, and when played sounds exactly like the triangle of the Ethiopian serenaders. When they had reached the palaver tree we heard a great yelling among the populace, which showed that they were satisfied. In a very short time they returned again to the house and waited till I had finished dinner, and then demanded the presents for themselves and their royal masters. As usual they were not satisfied; but we had no more to give them, and Furano, our interpreter, took one of the ministers into the house and showed him all our gear. A grunt from the minister announced to us that he saw it was impossible to get “blood out of a stone.”

They went away, and the third conference took place at four o’clock. This was the Grand Council, and there were plenty who spoke, the upshot of the whole affair being that they ultimately demanded the moderate sum of £300 in cloth, beads, and liquor, giving us permission (on our agreeing to the foregoing terms) to go on to Sundi above the cataracts, a journey occupying only three days. “Impudence is better than modesty,” but we thought this was carrying impudence to a pitch. This sum was out of the question, and had we been possessed of enough to answer the demands of those bushmen, rather than acquiesce, we should certainly have preferred throwing the amount into the “Slough of Despond.”

Wednesday, September 16th.—​This morning we went

to view the rapids. We found that the Yellalla Rapids ran east-north-east and west-south-west, and might be said to be about a mile in length. They were assuredly very grand, although the natives led us to expect something grander still. Some fishermen were busy catching fish up and down the quieter part of the rapids, whilst the eagles and cranes were satisfying their hunger in the vicinity of the island of Sanga-chya-Malemba in the middle of the stream, some hundred yards from either side of the river’s banks.

All day Gidi Mavonga was very stubborn and irritable, and wished to start at once for Vivi and return home; but as I had to put up some botanical specimens, to finish two sketches of this part of the country, and besides, having sore feet from walking, I would not hear of starting. Gidi therefore started, after repeated palavers, and called his muleks to follow him: some followed; others begged off, but to no purpose. Off he went, and after proceeding a short distance, returned, and in very strong words expressed himself an injured man. This was taking high ground; I therefore told the interpreter to tell Gidi that he might go away, and, at the same time, to inform him that he must send certain properties belonging to me which had been left at his banza, and that in future no further communication would be held with his place by any Englishman.

Gidi said that the property belonged to him. I told him to take all, but, he might rely upon it,

the kings who live close to the riverside would have to answer for the things. Whereupon Gidi at once gave way, and most submissively begged pardon, and matters were set right for a short time.

Saturday, September 19th.—​We found ourselves back again at Gidi Mavonga’s village, paying off all the extra hands who accompanied us to the rapids. The pay was made in cloth, beads, and liquors.

The heavy demands made by the bigwigs of Banza Nculu—​viz. £300 for mere permission to pass to Sundi, beside the enormous expense of feeding ourselves and thirty-five followers—​had compelled us to give up the project we had in view, especially as we had seen the principal rapids on the river—​the rest of the falls, until reaching Sundi, being mere elevations, in themselves quite insignificant. My object had been to reach Sundi, and thence try to ascertain the course of the river, and to find out whether its source could be nearly reached by canoes, or entirely reached by carriers. But finding the demands of the chiefs beyond my power of compliance, I resolved to return. Our chief guide, Gidi Mavonga, was anxious to make a retrograde movement as quickly as possible, and urged upon us the necessity of packing up and starting after three o’clock on the afternoon of our return from visiting the rapids. But I declined to stir until the next morning, and after much trouble I gave him and his slaves one blanket cloth and a pair of razors, which quieted him a little. But it was soon evident that even this

munificent gift merely banked up the fires of discord in the breasts of the savages, for the same dissatisfaction was observable even after we returned to their village. The day of settlement brought Gidi and his slaves to our temporary residence, and what followed beggared powers of description. What uproar! What threats! What runnings to and fro! All the devils in the infernal regions appeared to have infused a double portion of their diabolical influence into the bodies and souls of their willing disciples on that day of settlement, and when everybody’s fury had reached the climax of rage and insolence, old Gidi rushed into the house occupied by us, commenced turning all our gear upside down, and at last laid forcible hands upon a bale of merchandise.

I therefore quietly informed the wild old man that he was carrying matters too far, asked the meaning of it, and took out a six-barrelled Colt’s revolver, and placed it at my feet ready for use in case of need. This had the desired effect, for Gidi, after taking a long, covetous look at the bale of merchandise, turned round and stared at the leveller of six men at my feet, and having balanced the difference, he slunk out in perfect silence, followed by his two myrmidons, who had accompanied their master into the house to carry away anything that their lord might select. Outside the slaves still clamoured, and at last induced their master to beard me again when I was writing.

Thus for two days affairs progressed as hot as fire and as irritating as a wife’s bad temper, till at length,

by some special interposition of Providence, we managed to make arrangements for some people to carry our gear down to the riverside, and for a canoe to take us to Embomma, one of the principal stations on the river.

The preliminaries of this arrangement occupied two days, and on the morning of the third day we were ready to start by half-past five o’clock, but no carriers had as yet made their appearance, and after they did come, it was with the same infernal noise that we managed to start them with the loads. But the moment they were en route they almost ran with the things, and shortly disappeared from our view. We followed as quickly as we could after them, and arriving at Kayé, a sentinel with a gun stopped us, and informed us that his Highness Prince Sudikil desired our presence. On reaching the house of our old landlord, we discovered the whole of our gear before his door, and the prince with his mother and some of his slaves standing in a circle round the things, whilst one disgusting-looking brute was about to open a box of beads. I at once walked up to the rascal and gave him a castigation with a stick. The fellow looked daggers; but on showing him a fine breech-loading Cooper’s rifle, he held down his head and slunk a little way back from the box and sat down.

And now commenced a palaver between the prince and myself, the substance of which was that the prince wished to exact more presents from me, but this time by force. The armed slaves began to come

up one by one, until they added a considerable number to the crowd. I told the prince that it was customary to give on the arrival but not on the departure of a stranger. But as his highness persisted in his inflexible determination to have something, I referred him to Mambuka Prata, a powerful chief at Embomma, and requested Sudikil to take and keep my signet ring until the case was settled by arbitration at head-quarters.

At this suggestion the prince, his mother, some of the slaves, and even Nchama, our interpreter, commenced such a babel of tongues that we wished the whole bunch of them keeping company with Pharaoh at the bottom of the Red Sea. It was quite evident that they had perceived the absurdity and obstinacy of their covetous desires. The prince therefore walked away in a great rage, taking with him all his slaves, and nearly one-half of those who had brought our kit from his father’s house. Here, again, was another fix. We were standing pondering over the peculiar position in which we were placed, when luckily the few who remained at once resolved to carry each a double load, and this brought us to the waterside, and examining all our baggage, and seeing everything correct, I made a present of beads to the carriers and had breakfast.

By 9.45 a.m. we set off for Embomma with thankfulness, where we arrived at 5 p.m. on the same day, having run down with the current, slightly assisted by paddles, a distance of forty-five miles in seven hours and a quarter.

Wednesday, September 23rd.—​John Clarke, being engaged to go with us to St. Salvador, started this afternoon with Nchama to bring carriers from Mambuka Prata. Chief Mambuka Prata had a few trading huts close to the French factory, where he flew a black and white flag on trading occasions. The district of Embomma may extend about eight or ten miles in length, and throughout the whole of it villages of from ten to twenty houses may be seen standing in all directions, and sometimes several miles apart from one another. The king’s residence may consist of sixty houses, and it is generally at the royal villages that the traveller finds a home during his sojourn.

Thursday, September 24th.—​At Embomma. This day’s proceedings have been more annoying than any that have preceded it. The two messengers, John Clarke and Nchama, who had been sent on a mission to Mambuka Prata, returned without having accomplished a single order in connection with the mission entrusted to them. Nchama returned about six o’clock in the morning, perfectly drunk, and incapable of giving a single word of explanation as to his whereabouts and doings. John Clarke returned in the afternoon, and gave rather a tame version of his proceedings. He said that Mambuka Prata, being annoyed at not receiving a coat promised him by Monsieur Pisseaux, would not send any carriers to take us on to St. Salvador. What a Frenchman’s conduct had to do with an Englishman’s affairs I

could not conceive. He (Mambuka Prata) said the carriers would not be forthcoming until he received a book from the white man, or saw him himself. This last sounded like a falsehood, as there was not a soul in all Vinda who could read a single scrap, and, besides, our interpreters took with them a very good book in the shape of a demijohn of rum and a tenth of powder, but whether these had been delivered into the hands of the proper persons was a question. Nchama, having been severely reprimanded, repaired to his village, and did not make his appearance again until the day we left Embomma.

Friday, September 25th.—​We left Embomma, and arrived in Porto da Lentra at 1.15 on the morning of Saturday, September 26th. On the way down the canoemen made several attempts to land at various villages, but were forced to proceed for fear of Colt’s revolvers. They did very well, and received six bottles of rum.

We left Porto da Lentra for Point Banana at 4.15 on the morning of September 27th. We had exchanged our smaller but fine canoe for a large one, and started with six hands and captain, but had scarcely lost sight of Porto da Lentra when our canoemen went up a creek—​they said to get extra clothing. We were detained more than half an hour waiting for them, until probably they had eaten their breakfast and drunk their palm wine. We got them to start with great difficulty; but at the very next creek they stopped again, and would have repeated the dose at

other places had we not had recourse to our friends in need, the revolvers.

At the creek one man jumped on shore and we pushed off again; but a few yards down we were hailed by a Missolongi canoe, the river-pirates of this part of the Congo. This third time our canoemen stopped; and we were obliged to face them with cocked revolvers and compel them to go on. Down we glided, assisted more by the current than by our men. Another creek, and the canoemen requested to stop again to eat, which request was positively refused.

The river had been hitherto very calm, but at two o’clock the sea-breeze began to blow hard; the tide was also slightly against us, and this caused a swell in the river which wetted nearly all our things. I was surveying at the time, and, fearing that the instruments might get a soaking with salt water, I ordered the canoemen to put back and return to Point Banana by means of a creek on the right of the river. This appeared to the canoemen to be awfully hard work, although they had only to pull back for about a quarter of a mile. The Congoes are remarkable for their uselessness: they excel in eating, drinking, sleeping, and talking, in a word, in satisfying their sensual comforts, and what little sense they have is used for the purpose of annoying those with whom they come in contact. More than five times they were asked to make sail, and then gave a few strokes with their paddles, and stopped and chatted again, put

the canoe broadside on to the billows, let her drift back, and again gave a few more strokes.

In this way nearly an hour passed away, and we never reached the end of the quarter-mile. They began to complain that the way by the creek was too far, whilst just a short time before that they told us the creek was the nearest. They now declared that they could proceed no farther, and pulled the canoe in shore. Seeing that the whole bevy of them, from the captain to the small boy, were all drunk from drinking some rum they had brought with them, we could do nothing but submit to this state of things, anything being preferable to trusting the canoe with a lot of drunken hands, and getting ourselves and gear saturated with salt water.

The crew were permitted to land. They lighted a fire, cooked, ate, drank, quarrelled, and went to sleep. The padron, or captain, took possession of the rum, and drank himself to sleep also; and when the wind abated a little and the water became calmer, we awakened the captain with difficulty, and he with greater difficulty his crew; but the tide had gone down, and the canoe was high and dry on the bank. All efforts to launch her into the water proved unavailing, especially as the rum was still hard at work, and what little sense the Congoes had was perfectly misapplied. In consequence we had to wait until the tide again served, which did not take place till two o’clock the following morning, when we tried again to start our hands, and with great

delay and noise managed to reach Point Banana at 4.15 a.m.

At six o’clock all our things were landed and comfortably housed within Monsieur Parrat’s factory. Thank God! we were now at a considerable distance from Yellalla and the triumvirate and avaricioua triple ministers of the Banza Nculu, far away from the Banza Vivi and its king, far away from the quarrelsome, covetous, gin-drinking, noisy, and licentious old Gidi Mavonga, far away from that senseless nincompoop the Prince Sudikil, and—​praise be to Allah!—​within hail of Her Majesty’s ship Griffon.

[7] This MS. consisted mainly of notes roughly jotted down by Burton in a memorandum book. I have thought it best to publish them as they stood, with no alterations except those necessary to make the essay coherent and legible.—​W. H. W.

THE INTERIOR OF BRAZIL
1867