I.

January 20, 1907.

MY own interest in the Congo Free State began at the St. Louis

exposition. As is well known, that exposition made a special feature of

groups of representatives of tribes from various parts of the world.

These natives dressed in native dress, lived in native houses, and so

far as possible reproduced an accurate picture of the daily life to

which they were accustomed in their homes.

Among the groups there brought together was one of Congo natives. This

group was commonly known as the pygmy group, though but four out of the

nine members composing it made claims to be such. The group was brought

by Mr. S. P. Verner, at one time missionary to the Congo, who was

engaged by the exposition to make a special journey into central Africa

to procure it. Four members of the group were Batua, the others were

large blacks representing the Bakuba and Baluba.

The idea of visiting Africa was one which I had never seriously

entertained, but in the study of these Congolese it seemed to me that

there were interesting questions the solution of which would well repay

a visit. The consequence was, that I determined to visit the Congo Free

State—and specifically that part of the state from which these natives

had been brought.

About this time I received considerable literature from the Congo Reform

Association at Boston, the reading of which had its influence in

deciding me to undertake the expedition.

After reading this literature I started for the Congo, fully prepared to

see all kinds of horrors. I supposed that mutilations, cruelties, and

atrocities of the most frightful kinds would everywhere present

themselves. I expected to find a people everywhere suffering, mourning,

and in unhappiness.

My errand, however, was not that of a searcher after all these dreadful

things, but purely that of a student of human races, with definite

questions for investigation.

I may say that my opportunities for forming an opinion of conditions in

the Congo have been exceptional. Mine was no hasty journey, but a tarry

in the country extending over more than one year.

While my original plan was to spend the greater portion of my time in

the district ruled by the Bakuba chief, Ndombe, with but a short period

in other parts of the state, I had decided before reaching the mouth of

the Congo to more evenly distribute my time, and to see far more of the

Congo proper than I at first intended. As a consequence, I went first

into the Kasai district, where I spent four months, after which,

returning to Leopoldville, I went up the main river to the head of

navigation, and even beyond, to Ponthierville, the terminus of the newly

built line of railroad. We also went up the Aruwimi, to the famous

Yambuya camp, where the navigation of that river is interrupted by

cataracts.

I have, therefore, seen not only the lower Congo, which has been so

frequently visited in recent years, but traveled thousands of miles upon

the great river and two of its most important tributaries.

In this extended journey I came into constant contact with

representatives of the three groups of white men who live in the Congo

Free State—state officials, missionaries, and traders. I had repeated

conversations with them all, and have heard opinions upon the Congo

State from these diverse points of view.

My position with reference to Congo matters is peculiar, doubly so. I

may even say it is unique. My journey was made at my own expense; I was

not the representative of any institution, society, or body. I was

without instructions, and my observations were untrammeled by any

demands or conditions from outside.

While I am under many and weighty obligations to scores of state

officials, missionaries, and traders, I am not prevented from speaking

my mind in regard to any and every matter. Both to the missionaries,

state officials, and traders I paid board and lodging at every stopping

point—with the single exception of one American mission station—a fact

which leaves me freedom. While the state facilitated my visit and my

work in many ways, I was not, at any time, in relations with it of such

a kind as to interfere with free observations or free expression. I made

this entirely clear on my first visit to the state authorities at

Brussels, and it was understood by them that I should speak freely and

frankly of everything which I should see. On their part, the state

authorities expressed the liveliest satisfaction that an independent

American traveler should visit the Congo Free State, and said that they

did not wish anything concealed or attenuated, as they felt sure that

such a visit as mine could only do them good.

I have said that my position was doubly peculiar. I was not only

independent and untrammeled in observation and expression, but my

personal attitude to the whole question of colonization and

administration by a foreign power, of natives, is radical. Personally I

dislike the effort to elevate, civilize, remake a people. I should

prefer to leave the African as he was before white contact. It is my

belief that there is no people so weak or so degraded as to be incapable

of self-government. I believe that every people is happier and better

with self-government, no matter how unlike our own form that government

may be. I feel that no nation is good enough, or wise enough, or

sufficiently advanced to undertake the elevation and civilization of a

“lower” people. Still less do I approve the exploitation of a native

population by outsiders for their own benefit. Nor do I feel that even

the development of British trade warrants interference with native life,

customs, laws, and lands. I know, however, that these views are

unpopular and heretical.

In the series of articles, then, which I have been asked to prepare, I

shall try to take the standpoint of the practical man, the business man,

the man of affairs, the philanthropist, the missionary. All these agree

that civilized folk have a perfect right to interfere with any native

tribe too weak to resist their encroachment. They agree that it is

perfectly right to trample under foot native customs, institutions,

ideas—to change and modify, to introduce innovations, either to develop

trade, to exploit a country, to elevate a race, or to save souls. I am

forced, then, to look at Congo matters from the point of view of these

eminently practical men.

Of course, I saw much to criticise. It is true that there are floggings,

and chain-gangs, and prisons. I have seen them all repeatedly. But there

are floggings, chain-gangs, and prisons in the United States.

Mutilations are so rare that one must seek for them; and I had too much

else to do. There is taxation—yes, heavy taxation—a matter which I

shall discuss quite fully further on. And in connection with taxation

there is forced labor, a matter which, of course, I disapprove, but it

appears as just to all the groups of eminently practical men to whom I

have referred. There are, no doubt, hostages in numbers, but I saw less

than a dozen. And the whole matter of hostages is one which merits

careful and candid discussion. And I know that in many a large district

the population is much smaller than in former times. The causes of this

diminution in numbers are many and various, and to them I shall return.

Flogging, chain-gang, prison, mutilation, heavy taxation, hostages,

depopulation—all these I saw, but at no time and at no place were they

so flagrant as to force themselves upon attention. And of frightful

outrages, such as I had expected to meet everywhere, I may almost say

there was nothing. It is, of course, but fair to state that I was not in

the district of the A. B. I. R. I cannot believe, however, that

conditions in that district are so appalling as the newspaper reports

would indicate.

On the contrary, I found at many places a condition of the negro

population far happier than I had dreamed it possible. The negro of the

Congo—or Bantu, if you please—is a born trader. He is imitative to a

degree. He is acquisitive, and charmed with novelties. He is bright and

quick, remarkably intelligent. He readily acquires new languages, and it

is no uncommon thing to find a Congo Bantu who can speak six or seven

languages besides his own. In disposition variable and emotional, he

quickly forgets his sorrow. I saw hundreds of natives who were working

happily, living in good houses, dressing in good clothes of European

stuff and pattern, and saving property. That this number will rapidly

increase I have no doubt.

And now, on my return, after having many of my preconceived ideas

completely shattered, and feeling on the whole that things in Congoland

are not so bad, and that improvement is the order of the day, I am

startled to find the greatest excitement. Pages of newspapers are filled

with stories of atrocities, many of which never happened, some of which

are ancient, and a part of which, recent in date, are true.

I find a fierce excitement about the Belgium lobby, vigorous resolutions

presented in the senate, and the President of the United States

outrunning his most urgent supporters and advisers, ready to take some

drastic action to ameliorate the conditions of the suffering millions in

the Congo Free State. The surprise is so much the greater, as my latest

information regarding the American official attitude had been gained

from the letter written by Secretary Root some months ago.

What can be the reason of such prodigious and sudden change?

What has happened in the Congo since April to produce the present state

of mind? What is the motive underlying the bitter attacks upon Leopold

and the Free State which he established? Is it truly humanitarian? Or

are the laudable impulses and praiseworthy sympathies of two great

people being used for hidden and sinister ends of politics?

I do not claim infallibility. I do claim that my having spent a year in

the Congo Free State, independently, should qualify me to express

opinions on the conditions. I have heard both sides. I have traveled

thousands of miles in Congo territory. I have visited natives of

twenty-eight different tribes. No interference has been placed in my

way. I have gone where I pleased, and when and how I pleased. No

preparations have been made with reference to my visits. I believe no

changes in practice have been produced by my presence.

In the series of articles before us it is my intention to present in

detail what I have seen, and much of what I have heard, in the Congo

Independent State. I may make errors, but I shall tell no intentional

falsehoods. I shall criticise what deserves criticism. I shall praise

what is praiseworthy. I trust that those who are interested in forming a

true idea of Congo conditions may find something useful in my

observations.

At this point it is necessary for us to know something of the Congo

native himself. In Dark Africa—for northern Africa is and always has

been a white man’s country—there are three negro or negroid masses.

There is little doubt that the original inhabitants of the continent

were dwarf people, ancestors of the pygmies of the high Ituri forest,

and the Batua of the upper Kasai.

To-day the pygmies are mere fragments, scattered and separated, but

retaining with tenacity their ancient life. They are the same to-day as

they were 5,000 years ago, when they were objects of interest to the old

Egyptians. Little in stature, scrawny in form, with a face shrewd,

cunning, and sly, the pygmy is a hunter. With his bows and poisoned

arrows he kills the game of the forests and makes no pretense of doing

aught in agriculture. He is universally feared by the large blacks in

the neighborhood of whose towns he settles. He trades his game for

agricultural products with his large neighbors.

In the Soudan and neighboring parts of western Africa live the true

negroes, notable for their thick lips, projecting lower faces, and dark

skin.

Throughout southern Africa we find a group of populations much lighter

in color, and on the whole more attractive in appearance, than the true

negro. These tribes, plainly related in language, are no doubt of one

blood, and are called Bantu. The name is unfortunate, as the word bantu

simply means “men” in that group of languages. Practically the whole of

the Congo population are Bantu—there being almost no true negroes and

but few pygmies in the area.

It would seem as if the Congo native should be so well known by this

time that the current description of him in the text-books would be

accurate; yet, at least in two respects, these stereotyped accounts are

wrong. The Congo Bantu are not long-headed, and it is not true that they

differ from the real negro in the absence of a characteristic and

disagreeable odor. There are scores of Bantu tribes, each with its own

language and minor peculiarities in appearance and life. It would be

untrue to say that all smell badly, but I have often wished the writers

of the books could be shut up a while in the same room with, for

example, a group of Bobangi. It is certain that no type of African

smells worse.

It would be, however, a mistake to think that the Bantu are dirty. Far

from it. I have repeatedly observed my carriers, when we came to some

brook in the forest, set their loads aside, strip themselves when

necessary, and bathe in the fresh cool water. They are scrupulous in

attention to their teeth, and use, often several times a day, a little

stick of wood, somewhat larger than a lead-pencil, shredded at one end,

to clean their teeth. The instrument, by the way, serves its purpose far

better than our own toothbrushes.

According to his tribe, the Bantu may be short, medium, or tall. King

Ndombe of the Bakuba measures six feet three in stature, and is

well-built, though not heavy. Among the Bakuba, Baluba, Batetela, and

Bakete, tall statures are common. It is rare, however, that the Bantu

present what we would call finely developed forms; their chest is often

flat and sunken; their shoulders not well thrown backward; and the

musculature of their back, their chest, arms, and legs, is poor. Of

course, there are exceptions, and one sometimes sees magnificently

developed specimens. In the lower Congo, where on the whole the men are

shorter, they make excellent carriers. In the old caravan days the

standard burden was sixty or seventy pounds, and a man would carry it

without difficulty all the working day. The Kasai tribes are poor

carriers and indifferent workers. The chopbox of sixty pounds weight,

which the lower Congo man shoulders easily and carries without

complaint, will be slung to a pole to be borne by two carriers among the

Baluba.

In life the Bantu populations, so far as the Congo is concerned, present

notable general uniformity. The general pattern is the same everywhere,

though there are local and tribal differences of minor sort. Thus,

almost every tribe has its own tribal marks cut into the flesh of face

or body.

Similarly, the members of one tribe may be distinguished by their mode

of dressing the hair. To a less degree, the form to which the teeth are

chipped and broken mark tribal differences. It may almost be said that

no two tribes in all the Congo build houses that are just alike, and

almost every tribe has its characteristic mode of arranging the houses

in a group. Thus, in one tribe the houses will be arranged in continuous

lines, one on each side of a straight road; in another the houses may be

grouped around the three sides of a square, the group belonging to a

single chieftain and being succeeded in the village by other similar

groups of buildings; in another the houses will be arranged in two

curved lines, leaving the open space in the center of the village oval

or elliptical. The chairs or stools of one tribe will differ in form and

decoration from those of another; so will the wooden spoons, the

stirring-sticks, the combs, the dress and ornaments.

The Congo natives for the most part still lead a tribal life. A chief is

the head of a little community clustered about him. He may not be the

chief of a whole village; for example, at Bomanih, on the Aruwimi, there

are three chiefs. Each one has his own cluster of houses, and though the

three clusters are arranged continuously in two, parallel, straight

lines, every native of the village knows precisely where the domain of

the individual chief ends or begins.

The power and authority of the chief has been greatly weakened by

contact with the whites, but he still retains great influence. At least

over the members of his own household, including, of course, his slaves,

he had the power of life and death. In large affairs, interesting a

considerable number of people, he usually acted on the advice and

opinion of his fellows as expressed in a village or tribal palaver. The

chief was, and still is, distinguished from the common people by his

dress and ornaments. He is usually a man of wealth, and has a

considerable number of people actually dependent upon him, subject to

his orders, and a force upon which he can depend in case of war or

trouble.

When I first entered the Congo my heart sank, for it seemed as if the

native life was gone. In fact, in letters written from Matadi I doubted

whether I had not come too late for aught of interest. My spirits began

to revive, however, with the railroad journey from Matadi to

Leopoldville. Groups of natives, with scanty dress and barbaric

ornaments, replaced those who at Matadi and its neighborhood gathered at

the station to see the train pass.

In my first walk from the mission house where I lodged at Leo, within

three minutes’ walk of the mission I found a little cluster of Bateke

houses which, with its inhabitants, much delighted me.

Almost naked women, with abundance of beads and teeth hung at their

necks as ornaments, with hair elaborately dressed and bodies smeared

with red camwood powder, squatted on the ground, were making native

pottery in graceful forms.

In the shade in front of the door of one of the houses was a true

barbarian, lord of the place. By rare good luck he spoke a little

English, so that we were able to carry on a conversation. When I asked

him who the women were, he replied that they were his wives. I think

there were three of them, and it was my first introduction to African

polygamy. Each of these women occupied a separate house. Each of them

had a garden patch in which she worked. All of them contributed to the

importance and support of their husband.

Polygamy, of course, prevails throughout Dark Africa. But do not

misunderstand me. I do not use the word “dark” to characterize polygamy.

It is a settled institution which seems to work quite well. Later on I

saw the wives of Ndombe, thirty-four in number. Ndombe is a really

important chief, but compared with some whom we met or of whom we heard

in the Upper Congo, he was but scantily equipped. Sixty, seventy, a

hundred, or hundreds of wives and female slaves, which count for much

the same, are in possession of great chieftains. There is, of course,

always one favorite or principal wife. When Ndombe used to come, as he

frequently did, to my house to see the stereoscopic pictures, he

frequently brought his favorite wife with him. She was a pretty

creature—young and plump, graceful and modest. She wore good cloth and

any quantity of beads and brass arm and leg rings.

In every case the women of a chief or rich man live in separate houses,

each having her own. Until a man is married he is but little thought of.

The greater the number of his wives, the more important he becomes. As

each one cultivates a field and does other productive labor, it will be

seen that the man with the most wives is the richest man.

The man has his own house, but visits and lives in the houses of his

wives in turn. The child in Africa is rarely weaned before it is two or

three years old, and during the period of time when a child is unweaned

the father has no marital relations with the woman. On the whole, there

is less quarreling among the wives of a polygamic husband than one would

expect. Bantu women, however, are often termagants, as women elsewhere,

and at times the chief’s house group is lively.

Domestic slavery still flourishes. The state, of course, has done much

to end the actual slave trade for supplying white men and Arabs. It is,

however, difficult to deal with the matter of domestic slavery, and in

fact is scarcely worth the candle.

Every chief or man of any consequence has slaves. Calamba, my

interpreter, at Ndombe, though a young fellow, probably not more than

25, had two. It is rare that the lot of the domestic slave is unhappy.

It is usually women or children who are bought, and they are treated in

all respects as if members of the family. Little is required of them in

the way of work and service, and they must absolutely be provided for by

the master, who is also frequently responsible before the public for

their misdeeds. Formerly, of course, there was the possibility of being

killed upon a festal occasion, the accession of the chief to increased

power, or to grace his funeral. Within those districts where the state

has a firm hold and strong influence this possibility is done away with,

and the most serious disadvantage in being a slave is thus removed.

Slaves may become rich men, and not infrequently themselves hold slaves.

Perhaps the most striking characteristic of the Bantu, as of the true

negro, is his emotionality—one instant joyous, the next in tears.

Vowing vengeance for an injury to-day, he is on the happiest terms with

his injurer to-morrow. He laughs, sings, dances. Of all the

introductions of the white man, perhaps the accordion is the favorite.

Men use it, but women play it constantly. Most of them play one song

piece only, and one may hear it from one end of the state to the other

at every hour of the day and night. Of course, there are native

instruments in plenty, drums of every size and form, from the small hand

drum, made by stretching a skin across an earthen pot three or four

inches in diameter, up to the great cylindrical, horizontal drum made by

hollowing logs a yard in diameter and ten feet long. There are horns,

fifes, pipes, and whistles, and a great series of stringed instruments,

ranging from the musical bow with but one cord to lutes with ten or

twelve. Of course, the instrumental music goes with the dancing.

The native is born to dance. Babies, two or three years old, dance with

their elders. Men dance together; women have their special forms; but in

the majority of cases the two sexes dance together. There is, however,

nothing like our waltzes or round dancing, individuals keeping

themselves separate. The dances are most frequent and lively when the

moon is growing. On moonlight nights hundreds of people—men, women, and

children—gather at dusk, and to the noise of drums dance wildly, often

till morning. It is no uncommon thing for people working on plantations

to work all day and dance almost all night, and this day after day.

While some of the dances are extremely graceful, most of them are

obscene and are followed often by frightful orgies.

One thing greatly interested me. Had I been asked before my trip to

Africa about the cake-walk—a form of amusement which I love to see—I

should have said that it originated in America among the black folk of

our southern states. But no, the cake-walk is no American invention. In

every part of the Congo one may see it—even in regions where white

influence has seldom penetrated. The American cake-walk is an immigrant.

The Bantu child is wonderfully precocious. This precocity displays

itself in everything. The children run about with perfect freedom,

instead of tottering along, one unsteady step after another, as our

children of the same age. They speak astonishingly soon. A babe in arms

eats solid food—notwithstanding the fact that it is not weaned until

two or three years of age—shockingly early. The little child imitates

the every action of its older friends. Children of four or five, in

shrewdness, comprehension, and intelligence, are like our ten-year-olds.

This precocity suggests the fact of early ripening. As a fact, boys of

sixteen and girls of thirteen are frequently ready for marriage. A man

of twenty-five is in the prime of life, a man of thirty aged, and on the

whole the term of life closes at thirty-five.