An extraordinary monarch—I am examined—African “chaff”—Mtesa, Emperor of
Uganda—Description of Mtesa—A naval review—Arrival at the imperial
capital—Mtesa’s palace—Fascination of the country—I meet a white man—
Col. Linant de Bellefonds—The process of conversion—A grand mission
field—A pleasant day with Col. de Bellefonds—Starting for my camp.
_April 5._—The little insight we obtained into the manners of Uganda
between Soweh Island, Murchison Bay, and Kiwa Island, near Ukafu Bay,
impressed us with the consciousness that we were about to become
acquainted with an extraordinary monarch and an extraordinary people,
as different from the barbarous pirates of Uvuma, and the wild,
mop-headed men of Eastern Usukuma, as the British in India are from
their Afridi fellow-subjects, or the white Americans of Arkansas from
the semi-civilized Choctaws. If politeness could so govern the actions
of the men of Kiwa Island, far removed as they were from contact with
the Uganda court, and suave duplicity could so well be practised by the
Mtongoleh of Ukafu, and such ready, ungrudging hospitality be shown by
the chief of Buka, and the _Kabaka’s_ orders be so promptly executed
by Magassa, the messenger, and the chief of Kadzi, what might we not
expect at the court, and what manner of man might not this “_Kabaka_”
be!
Such were our reflections as Magassa, in his superb canoe, led the way
from behind Soweh Island, and his little slave drummed an accompaniment
to the droning chant of his canoe-men.
Compared with our lonely voyage from our camp at Usukuma round all the
bays and inlets of the much-indented coasts of the Great Lake, these
five superb canoes forming line in front of our boat, escorting us to
the presence of the great potentate of Equatorial Africa, formed a scene
which promised at least novelty, and a view of some extraordinary pomp
and ceremony.
When about two miles from Usavara, we saw what we estimated to be
thousands of people arranging themselves in order on a gently rising
ground. When about a mile from the shore, Magassa gave the order to
signal our advance upon it with fire-arms, and was at once obeyed by his
dozen musketeers. Half a mile off I saw that the people on the shore had
formed themselves into two dense lines, at the ends of which stood
several finely-dressed men, arrayed in crimson and black and snowy
white. As we neared the beach, volleys of musketry burst out from the
long lines. Magassa’s canoes steered outward to right and left, while
200 or 300 heavily loaded guns announced to all around that the white
man—whom Mtesa’s mother had dreamed about—had landed. Numerous kettle
and bass drums sounded a noisy welcome, and flags, banners, and
bannerets waved, and the people gave a great shout. Very much amazed at
all this ceremonious and pompous greeting, I strode up towards the great
standard, near which stood a short young man, dressed in a crimson robe
which covered an immaculately white dress of bleached cotton, before
whom Magassa, who had hurried ashore, kneeled reverently, and turning to
me begged me to understand that this short young man was the _Katekiro_.
Not knowing very well who the “Katekiro” was, I only bowed, which,
strange to say, was imitated by him, only that his bow was far more
profound and stately than mine. I was perplexed, confused, embarrassed,
and I believe I blushed inwardly at this regal reception, though I hope
I did not betray my embarrassment.
A dozen well-dressed people now came forward, and grasping my hand
declared in the Swahili language that I was welcome to Uganda. The
_Katekiro_ motioned with his head, and amid a perfect concourse of
beaten drums, which drowned all conversation, we walked side by side,
and followed by curious thousands, to a courtyard, and a circle of
grass-thatched huts surrounding a larger house, which I was told were my
quarters.
The _Katekiro_ and several of the chiefs accompanied me to my new hut,
and a very sociable conversation took place. There was present a native
of Zanzibar, named Tori, whom I shortly discovered to be chief drummer,
engineer, and general jack-of-all-trades for the _Kabaka_. From this
clever, ingenious man I obtained the information that the _Katekiro_ was
the prime minister, or the _Kabaka’s_ deputy, and that the titles of the
other chiefs were Chambarango, Kangau, Mkwenda, Sekebobo, Kitunzi,
Sabaganzi, Kauta, Saruti. There were several more present, but I must
defer mention of them to other chapters.
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[_To face page 148._
[Illustration: RECEPTION BY KING MTESA’S BODY-GUARD AT USAVARA.]
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Waganda, as I found subsequently, are not in the habit of remaining
incurious before a stranger. Hosts of questions were fired off at me
about my health, my journey, and its aim, Zanzibar, Europe and its
people, the seas and the heavens, sun, moon, and stars, angels and
devils, doctors, priests, and craftsmen in general; in fact, as the
representative of nations who “know everything,” I was subjected to a
most searching examination, and in one hour and ten minutes it was
declared unanimously that I had “passed.” Forthwith after the
acclamation, the stately bearing became merged into a more friendly one,
and long, thin, nervous black hands were pushed into mine
enthusiastically, from which I gathered that they applauded me as though
I had won the honours of a senior wrangler. Some proceeded direct to the
_Kabaka_ and informed him that the white man was a genius, knew
everything, and was remarkably polite and sociable, and the _Kabaka_ was
said to have “rubbed his hands as though he had just come into the
possession of a treasure.”
The fruits of the favourable verdict passed upon myself and merits were
seen presently in fourteen fat oxen, sixteen goats and sheep, a hundred
bunches of bananas, three dozen fowls, four wooden jars of milk, four
baskets of sweet-potatoes, fifty ears of green Indian corn, a basket of
rice, twenty fresh eggs, and ten pots of maramba wine. Kauta, Mtesa’s
steward or butler, at the head of the drovers and bearers of these
various provisions, fell on his knees before me and said:—
“The _Kabaka_ sends salaams unto his friend who has travelled so far to
see him. The _Kabaka_ cannot see the face of his friend until he has
eaten and is satisfied. The _Kabaka_ has sent his slave with these few
things to his friend that he may eat, and at the ninth hour, after his
friend has rested, the _Kabaka_ will send and call for him to appear at
the burzah. I have spoken. Twiyanzi-yanzi-yanzi!”
I replied suitably, though my politeness was not so excessive as to
induce me to kneel before the courtly butler and thank him for
permission to say I thanked him.
My boat’s crew were amazed at this imperial bounty, which provided more
than a bullock apiece for each member of my following. Saramba, the
mop-headed guide from Usukuma, was requested to say what he thought
of the _Kabaka_, who gave bullocks and goats in proportion as the
Usukuma chief gave potatoes to his guests. Saramba’s wits were all this
time under a cloud. He was still dressed in the primitive goatskin of
his country, as greasy and dingy as a whaling cook’s pan-cloth—the
greasiest thing I ever saw. He was stared at, jeered, and flouted by
the courtly, cleanly pages of the court, who by this time had taken
such keen and complete mental inventories of my features, traits,
and points of character as would have put to shame even a Parisian
newsmonger.
“What land is this undressed pagan from?” asked the pages, loud enough
for poor Saramba to hear.
“Regard the pagan’s hair,” said another.
“He had better not let the _Kabaka_ see him,” said a third.
“He is surely a pagan slave—worth about a goat,” remarked a fourth.
“Not he. I would not buy him for a ripe banana,” ventured a fifth.
I looked up at Saramba, and half fancied that he paled.
Poor Saramba! “As soon as they are gone, off goes that mop, and we will
dress you in white cloth,” said Safeni, the coxswain, compassionately.
But Baraka, one of the boatmen, an incorrigible scoffer, said, “What is
the use? If we give him cloth, will he wear it? No; he will roll it up
and tie it with a piece of string, and save it for his mammy, or sell it
in Usukuma for a goat.”
To my surprise the boatmen endeavoured to impress the fact on Saramba’s
mind that the _Kabaka_ was a special personal friend of theirs; that all
these cattle, goats, and fowls were the _Kabaka’s_ usual gifts to
Wangwana, and they endeavoured, with a reckless disregard for accuracy,
to enumerate fabulous instances of his generosity to a number of other
Safenis, Sarbokos, Barakas, and Zaidis, all natives, like themselves, of
Zanzibar. Let Englishmen never henceforth indulge in the illusion, or
lay the flattering unction to their self-love, that they are the only
people who have studied the art of “chaff.” The Zanzibaris are perfect
in the art, as the sordid barbarian Saramba discovered to his cost.
The ninth hour of the day approached. We had bathed, brushed, cleaned
ourselves, and were prepared externally and mentally for the memorable
hour when we should meet the Foremost Man of Equatorial Africa. Two of
the _Kabaka’s_ pages, clad in a costume semi-Kingwana and semi-Kiganda,
came to summon us—the Kingwana part being the long white shirt of
Zanzibar, folded with a belt or band about the loins, the Kiganda part
being the Sohari doti cloth depending from the right shoulder to the
feet. “The _Kabaka_ invites you to the burzah,” said they. Forthwith we
issue from our courtyard, five of the boat’s crew on each side of me
armed with Snider rifles. We reach a short broad street, at the end of
which is a hut. Here the _Kabaka_ is seated with a multitude of chiefs,
Wakungu[12] and Watongoleh, ranked from the throne in two opposing
kneeling or seated lines, the ends being closed in by drummers, guards,
executioners, pages, &c. &c. As we approached the nearest group, it
opened, and the drummers beat mighty sounds; Tori’s drumming being
conspicuous from its sharper beat. The Foremost Man of Equatorial Africa
rises and advances, and all the kneeling and seated lines rise—generals,
colonels, chiefs, cooks, butlers, pages, executioners, &c. &c.
The _Kabaka_, a tall, clean-faced, large-eyed, nervous-looking, thin
man, clad in a tarbush, black robe, with a white shirt belted with gold,
shook my hands warmly and impressively, and, bowing not ungracefully,
invited me to be seated on an iron stool. I waited for him to show the
example, and then I and all the others seated ourselves.
He first took a deliberate survey of me, which I returned with interest,
for he was as interesting to me as I was to him. His impression of me
was that I was younger than Speke, not so tall, but better dressed. This
I gathered from his criticisms as confided to his chiefs and favourites.
My impression of him was that he and I would become better acquainted,
that I should make a convert of him, and make him useful to Africa—but
what other impressions I had may be gathered from the remarks I wrote
that evening in my diary:—
“As I had read Speke’s book for the sake of its geographical
information, I retained but a dim remembrance of his description of
his life in Uganda. If I remember rightly, Speke described a youthful
prince, vain and heartless, a wholesale murderer and tyrant, one who
delighted in fat women. Doubtless he described what he saw, but it is
far from being the state of things now. Mtesa has impressed me as
being an intelligent and distinguished prince, who, if aided in time
by virtuous philanthropists, will do more for Central Africa than
fifty years of Gospel teaching, unaided by such authority, can do. I
think I see in him the light that shall lighten the darkness of this
benighted region; a prince well worthy the most hearty sympathies that
Europe can give him. In this man I see the possible fruition of
Livingstone’s hopes, for with his aid the civilisation of Equatorial
Africa becomes feasible. I remember the ardour and love which animated
Livingstone when he spoke of Sekeletu; had he seen Mtesa, his ardour
and love for him had been tenfold, and his pen and tongue would have
been employed in calling all good men to assist him.”
Five days later I wrote the following entry:—
“I see that Mtesa is a powerful Emperor, with great influence over his
neighbours. I have to-day seen the turbulent Mankorongo, king of Usui,
and Mirambo, that terrible phantom who disturbs men’s minds in
Unyamwezi, through their embassies kneeling and tendering their
tribute to him. I saw over 3000 soldiers of Mtesa nearly half
civilised. I saw about a hundred chiefs who might be classed in the
same scale as the men of Zanzibar and Oman, clad in as rich robes, and
armed in the same fashion, and have witnessed with astonishment such
order and law as is obtainable in semi-civilised countries. All this
is the result of a poor Muslim’s labour; his name is Muley bin Salim.
He it was who first began teaching here the doctrines of Islam. False
and contemptible as these doctrines are, they are preferable to the
ruthless instincts of a savage despot, whom Speke and Grant left
wallowing in the blood of women, and I honour the memory of Muley bin
Salim—Muslim and slave-trader though he be—the poor priest who has
wrought this happy change. With a strong desire to improve still more
the character of Mtesa, I shall begin building on the foundation
stones laid by Muley bin Salim. I shall destroy his belief in Islam,
and teach the doctrines of Jesus of Nazareth.”
It may easily be gathered from these entries that a feeling of
admiration for Mtesa must have begun very early, and that either Mtesa
is a very admirable man, or that I am a very impressionable traveller,
or that Mtesa is so perfect in the art of duplicity and acted so clever
a part, that I became his dupe.
[_To face page 152._
[Illustration:
SEKEBOBO, MTESA, CHAMBARANGO,
CHIEF OF CHAGWÉ. THE EMPEROR OF UGANDA. THE CHIEF.
POKINO, THE PRIME MINISTER.
OTHER CHIEFS.
(_From a photograph by the Author._)
]
The chief reason for admiration lay, probably, in the surprise with
which I viewed the man whom Speke had beheld as a boy—and who was
described by him through about two hundred pages of his book as a vain,
foolish, peevish, headstrong youth and a murderous despot—sedate and
composed in manner, intelligent in his questions and remarks beyond
anything I expected to meet in Africa. That I should see him so well
dressed, the centre of a court equally well dressed and intelligent,
that he should have obtained supremacy over a great region into which
moneyed strangers and soldiers from Cairo and Zanzibar flocked for the
sake of its supreme head, that his subjects should speak of him with
respect, and his guests, so far as I could gather, honour him, were
minor causes, which, I venture to consider, were sufficient to win my
favourable judgment. That he should have been so royally liberal in his
supplies to me, have proffered other courtesies in a tone of sincerity,
and have appeared to me a kindly, friendly soul, who affected all the
dignity of one who entertains a vast respect for himself and his
position without affronting or giving wanton offence to those around him
who also have wants, hopes, and self-respect, may also be offered as
reasons which contributed not a little towards creating a favourable
impression on me. I am aware that there are negrophobists who may
attribute this conduct of Mtesa to a natural gift for duplicity. He is
undoubtedly a man who possesses great natural talents, but he also shows
sometimes the waywardness, petulance, and withal the frank, exuberant,
joyous moods, of youth. I will also admit that Mtesa can be _politic_,
as, indeed, future pages will show, but he has also a child’s unstudied
ease of manner. I soon saw that he was highly clever, and possessed of
the abilities to govern, but his cleverness and ability lacked the
mannerisms of a European’s.
Whether or no I became Mtesa’s dupe will be seen in the chapters on
Uganda. Meanwhile, he appeared to me to be a generous prince and a frank
and intelligent man, and one whose character was well worth studying for
its novel intensity and extreme originality, and also as one whom I
judged could be made to subserve higher ends than he suspected he was
fashioned for. I met his friendly advances with the utmost cordiality,
and the burzah concluded at sunset, with the same ceremony that had
inaugurated it, leaving Mtesa and myself mutually pleased and gratified
with our acquaintance.
A description of Mtesa’s person was written in my diary on the third
evening of my visit to him, from which I quote:—
“_April 7._—In person Mtesa is tall, probably 6 feet 1 inch, and
slender. He has very intelligent and agreeable features, reminding me
of some of the faces of the great stone images at Thebes, and of the
statues in the Museum at Cairo. He has the same fulness of lips, but
their grossness is relieved by the general expression of amiability
blended with dignity that pervades his face, and the large, lustrous,
lambent eyes that lend it a strange beauty, and are typical of the
race from which I believe him to have sprung. His colour is of a dark
red brown, of a wonderfully smooth surface. When not engaged in
council, he throws off unreservedly the bearing that characterises him
when on the throne, and gives rein to his humour, indulging in hearty
peals of laughter. He seems to be interested in the discussion of the
manners and customs of European courts, and to be enamoured of hearing
of the wonders of civilisation. He is ambitious to imitate as much as
lies in his power the ways of the white man. When any piece of
information is given him, he takes upon himself the task of
translating it to his wives and chiefs, though many of the latter
understand the Swahili language as well as he does himself.”
On this day I recorded an interesting event which occurred in the
morning. Mtesa, about 7 A.M., sallied out of his quarters, accompanied
by a host of guards, pages, standard bearers, fifers, drummers, chiefs,
native guests, claimants, &c., and about two hundred women of his
household, and as he passed by my courtyard, he sent one of his pages to
request my presence. While he passed on, I paid some attention to my
toilet, and made as presentable an appearance as my clothes-bag enabled
me, and then, accompanied by two of my boat’s crew as gunbearers,
followed the court to the lake. Mtesa was seated on an iron stool, the
centre of a large group of admiring women, who, as soon as I appeared,
focussed about two hundred pairs of lustrous, humid eyes on my person,
at which he laughed.
“You see, ‘Stamlee,’” said he, “how my women look at you; they expected
to see you accompanied by a woman of your own colour. I am not jealous
though. Come and sit down.”
Presently Mtesa whispered an order to a page, who sprang to obey, and
responding to his summons, there darted into view from the bend in
Murchison Bay west of Usavara forty magnificent canoes, all painted an
ochreous brown, which I perceived to be the universally favourite
colour. _En passant_, I have wondered whether they admire this colour
from an idea that it resembles the dark bronze of their own bodies. For
pure Waganda are not black by any means. The women and chiefs of Mtesa,
who may furnish the best specimens of Waganda, are nearly all of a
bronze or a dark reddish brown, with peculiar smooth, soft skins,
rendered still more tender and velvety to the touch by their habit of
shampooing with butter. Some of the women, I observed, were of a very
light red-gold colour, while one or two verged on white. The native
cloths—the national dress—which depended from the right shoulders of the
larger number of those not immediately connected with the court were of
a light brown also. It struck me, when I saw the brown skins, brown
robes, and brown canoes, that brown must be the national colour.
These forty canoes, which now rode on the calm grey-green waters of
Murchison Bay, contained in the aggregate about 1200 men. The captain of
each canoe was dressed in a white cotton shirt and a cloth head-cover,
neatly folded turban-fashion, while the admiral wore over his shirt a
crimson jacket, profusely decorated with gold braid, and on his head the
red fez of Zanzibar. Each captain, as he passed us, seized shield and
spear, and, with the bravado of a matador addressing the Judge of the
Plaza to behold his prowess, went through the performance of defence and
attack by water. The admiral won the greatest applause, for he was the
Hector of the fleet, and his actions, though not remarkably graceful,
were certainly remarkably extravagant. The naval review over, Mtesa
commanded one of the captains of the canoes to try and discover a
crocodile or a hippopotamus. After fifteen minutes he returned with the
report that there was a young crocodile asleep on a rock about 200 yards
away. “Now, Stamlee,” said Mtesa, “show my women how white men can
shoot.” To represent all the sons of Japhet, on this occasion, was a
great responsibility, but I am happy to say that—whether owing to the
gracious influence of some unseen divinity who has the guardianship of
their interests or whether from mere luck—I nearly severed the head of
the young crocodile from its body at a distance of 100 yards with a
three-ounce ball, which was accepted as conclusive proof that all white
men are dead shots.
In the afternoon we amused ourselves with target practice, at which an
accident occurred that might have produced grave results. A No. 8
double-barrelled rifle was fractured in Mtesa’s hands at the second
shot, but fortunately without injuring either him or the page on whose
shoulder it rested. General alarm prevailed for a short time, until
that, seeing it was about to be accepted as a bad omen, I examined the
rifle and showed Mtesa an ancient flaw in the barrel, which his good
sense perceived had led to the fracture. The gun was a very old one, and
had evidently seen much service.
_April 10._—On the 10th of April the court broke up its hunting lodges
at Usavara, on Murchison Bay, and moved to the capital, whither I was
strongly urged to follow. Mtesa, escorted by about two hundred
musketeers and the great Wakungu and their armed retainers, travelled
quickly, but owing to my being obliged to house my boat from the hot
sun, I did not reach the capital until 1 P.M.
The road had been prepared for his Imperial Majesty’s hunting excursion,
and was 8 feet wide, through jungle and garden, forest and field.
Beautiful landscapes were thus enjoyed of rolling land and placid lake,
of gigantic tamarinds and gum-trees, of extensive banana groves and
plantations of the ficus, from the bark of which the national dress or
_mbugu_, is made. The peculiar dome-like huts, each with an attempt at a
portico, were buried deep in dense bowers of plantains which filled the
air with the odour of their mellow rich fruit.
The road wound upward to the summits of green hills which commanded
exquisite prospects, and down again into the sheltered bosoms of woody
nooks, and vales, and tree-embowered ravines. Streams of clear water
murmured through these depressions as they flowed towards Murchison Bay.
The verdure was of a brilliant green, freshened by the unfailing rains
of the Equator; the sky was of the bluest, and the heat, though great,
was tempered by the hill breezes, and frequently by the dense foliage
overhead.
Within three hours’ march from Usavara, we saw the capital crowning the
summit of a smooth rounded hill—a large cluster of tall conical grass
huts, in the centre of which rose a spacious, lofty, barn-like
structure. The large building, we were told, was the palace! the hill,
Rubaga; the cluster of huts, the imperial capital!
From each side of the tall cane fence enclosing the grass huts on
Rubaga hill radiated very broad avenues, imperial enough in width.
Arriving at the base of the hill, and crossing by a “corduroy” road
over a broad slimy ooze, we came up to one of these avenues, the
ground of which was a reddish clay strongly mixed with the detritus of
hematite. It gave a clear breadth of 100 feet of prepared ground, and
led by a gradual ascent to the circular road which made the circuit of
the hill outside the palace enclosure. Once on the dome-like height,
we saw that we had arrived by the back avenue, for the best view of
this capital of magnificent distances was that which was obtained by
looking from the burzah of the palace, and carrying the eye over the
broad front highway, on each side of which, as far as could be defined
from the shadows of the burzah, the Wakungu had their respective courts
and houses, embowered in gardens of banana and fig. Like the enclosure
round the palace courts and quarters, each avenue was fenced with tall
_matete_ (water-cane) neatly set very close together in uniform rows.
The by-streets leading from one avenue to another were narrow and
crooked.
While I stood admiring the view, a page came up, and, kneeling,
announced that he had been despatched by the Emperor to show me my
house. Following him, I was ushered within a corner lot of the fenced
square, between two avenues, into what I might appropriately term a
“garden villa” of Uganda. My house, standing in the centre of a plantain
garden about 100 feet square, was 20 feet long, and of a marquee shape,
with a miniature portico or eave projecting like a bonnet over the
doorway, and was divided into two apartments. Close by, about 30 feet
off, were three dome-like huts for the boat’s crew and the kitchen, and
in a corner of the garden was a railed space for our bullocks and goats.
Were it not that I was ever anxious about my distant camp in Usukuma, I
possessed almost everything requisite to render a month’s stay very
agreeable, and for the time I was as proud of my tiny villa as a London
merchant is of his country house.
In the afternoon I was invited to the palace. A number of people in
brown robes, or white dresses, some with white goatskins over their
brown robes, others with cords folded like a turban round their heads,
which I heard were distinguishing marks of the executioners, were also
ascending to the burzah. Court after court was passed until we finally
stood upon the level top in front of the great house of cane and straw,
which the Waganda fondly term _Kibuga_, or the Palace. The space at
least was of aulic extent, and the prospect gained at every point was
also worthy of the imperial eyes of the African monarch.
On all sides rolled in grand waves a voluptuous land of sunshine, and
plenty, and early summer verdure, cooled by soft breezes from the great
equatorial freshwater sea. Isolated hill-cones, similar to that of
Rubaga, or square tabular masses, rose up from the beautiful landscape
to attract, like mysteries, the curious stranger’s observation, and
villages and banana groves of still fresher green, far removed on the
crest of distant swelling ridges, announced that Mtesa owned a land
worth loving. Dark sinuous lines traced the winding courses of deep
ravines filled with trees, and grassy extents of gently undulating
ground marked the pastures; broader depressions suggested the cultivated
gardens and the grain fields, while on the far verge of the horizon we
saw the beauty and the charm of the land melting into the blues of
distance.
There is a singular fascination about this country. The land would be
loved for its glorious diversified prospects, even though it were a
howling wilderness; but it owes a great deal of the power which it
exercises over the imagination to the consciousness that in it dwells a
people peculiarly fascinating also. “How comes it,” one asks, “that this
barbarous, uneducated, and superstitious monarch builds upon this
height?” Not for protection, surely, for he has smoothed the uneven
ground and formed broad avenues to approach it, and a single torch would
suffice to level all his fences? Does he, then, care for the charms of
the prospect? Has he also an eye to the beauties of nature?
Were this monarch as barbarous as other African chiefs whom I had met
between Zanzibar and Napoleon Channel, he would have sought a basin, or
the slope of some ridge, or some portion of the shores of the lake where
his cattle might best graze, and would there have constructed his grass
dwellings. But this man builds upon a hill that he may look abroad, and
take a large imperial view of his land. He loves ample room; his house
is an African palace, spacious and lofty; large clean courtyards
surround it; he has spacious quarters for his harem, and courtyards
round those; he has spacious quarters for his guards, and extensive
courtyards round those; a cane enclosure surrounds all, and beyond the
enclosure again is a wide avenue running round the palace fences. His
people, great and small, imitate him as much as lies in their power.
They are well dressed, and immodesty is a crime in the land. Yet I am
still in Africa, and only yesterday, as it were, I saw naked men and
naked women. It may be that such a monarch and people fascinate me as
much as their land. The human figures in the landscape have, indeed, as
much interest for me as the gracious landscape itself.
The drums sounded. Mtesa had seated himself on the throne, and we
hastened to take our seats.
Since the 5th of April, I had enjoyed ten interviews with Mtesa, and
during all I had taken occasion to introduce topics which would lead up
to the subject of Christianity. Nothing occurred in my presence but I
contrived to turn it towards effecting that which had become an object
to me, viz., his conversion. There was no attempt made to confuse him
with the details of any particular doctrine. I simply drew for him the
image of the Son of God humbling Himself for the good of all mankind,
white and black, and told him how, while He was in man’s disguise, He
was seized and crucified by wicked people who scorned His divinity, and
yet out of His great love for them, while yet suffering on the cross, He
asked His great Father to forgive them. I showed the difference in
character between Him whom white men love and adore, and Mohammed, whom
the Arabs revere; how Jesus endeavoured to teach mankind that we should
love all men, excepting none, while Mohammed taught his followers that
the slaying of the pagan and the unbeliever was an act that merited
Paradise. I left it to Mtesa and his chiefs to decide which was the
worthier character. I also sketched in brief the history of religious
belief from Adam to Mohammed. I had also begun to translate to him the
Ten Commandments, and Idi, the Emperor’s writer, transcribed in Kiganda
the words of the Law as given to him in choice Swahili by Robert Feruzi,
one of my boat’s crew, and a pupil of the Universities Mission at
Zanzibar.
The enthusiasm with which I launched into this work of teaching was soon
communicated to Mtesa and some of his principal chiefs, who became so
absorbingly interested in the story as I gave it to them that little of
other business was done. The political burzah and seat of justice had
now become an alcove, where only the moral and religious laws were
discussed.
Before we broke up our meeting Mtesa informed me that I should meet a
_white man_ at his palace the next day.
“A white man, or a Turk?”
“A white man like yourself,” repeated Mtesa.
“No; impossible!”
“Yes, you will see. He comes from Masr (Cairo), from Gordoom (Gordon)
Pasha.”
“Ah, very well, I shall be glad to see him, and if he is really a white
man I may probably stay with you four or five days longer,” said I to
Mtesa, as I shook hands with him, and bade him good-night.
_April 11._—The “white man,” reported to be coming the next day, arrived
at noon with great éclat and flourishes of trumpets, the sound of which
could be heard all over the capital. Mtesa hurried off a page to invite
me to his burzah. I hastened up by a private entrance. Mtesa and all his
chiefs, guards, pages, executioners, claimants, guests, drummers and
fifers were already there, _en grande tenue_.
Mtesa was in a fever, as I could see by the paling of the colour under
his eyes and his glowing eyeballs. The chiefs shared their master’s
excitement.
“What shall we do,” he asked, “to welcome him?”
“Oh, form your troops in line from the entrance to the burzah down to
the gate of the outer court, and present arms, and as he comes within
the gate, let your drums and fifes sound a loud welcome.”
“Beautiful!” said Mtesa. “Hurry Tori, Chambarango, Sekebobo; form them
in two lines just as Stamlee says. Oh, that is beautiful! And shall we
fire guns, Stamlee?”
“No, not until you shake hands with him; and as he is a soldier, let the
guards fire, then they will not injure anyone.”
Mtesa’s flutter of excitement on this occasion made me think that there
must have been a somewhat similar scene before my landing at Usavara,
and that Tori must have been consulted frequently upon the form of
ceremony to be adopted.
What followed upon the arrival of the white man at the outer gate had
best be told as an interlude by the stranger himself:
“At two o’clock, the weather having cleared up, Mtesa sent a messenger
to inform me that he was ready to receive me. Notice is given in the
camp; every one puts on his finest clothes; at last we are ready; my
brave Soudanians look quite smart in their red jackets and white
trousers. I place myself at their heads; trumpets flourish and drums
sound as we follow an avenue from eighty-five to a hundred yards wide,
running direct north and south, and terminating at Mtesa’s palace.”...
“On entering this court, I am greeted with a frightful uproar; a
thousand instruments, each one more outlandish than the other, produce
the most discordant and deafening sounds. Mtesa’s bodyguard, carrying
guns, present arms on my appearance; the king is standing at the
entrance of the reception hall. I approach and bow to him _à la
turque_. He holds out his hand, which I press; I immediately perceive
a sunburnt European to the left of the king, a traveller, whom I
imagine to be Cameron. We exchange glances without speaking.
“Mtesa enters the reception room, and we follow him. It is a narrow
hall about 60 feet long by 15 feet wide, the ceiling of which, sloping
down at the entrance, is supported by a double row of wooden pillars
which divide the room into two aisles. The principal and central room
is unoccupied, and leads to the king’s throne; the two aisles are
filled with the great dignitaries and chief officers. At each pillar
stands one of the king’s guard, wearing a long red mantle, a white
turban ornamented with monkey skin, white trousers and black blouse
with a red band. All are armed with guns.
“Mtesa takes his place on his throne, which is a wooden seat in the
shape of an office arm-chair; his feet rest upon a cushion; the whole
placed on a leopard’s skin spread over a Smyrna carpet. Before the
king is a highly polished elephant’s tusk, and at his feet are two
boxes containing fetishes; on either side the throne is a lance (one
copper, the other steel), each held by a guard; these are the insignia
of Uganda; the dog which Speke mentions has been done away with.
Crouching at the foot of the king are the vizier and two scribes.
“Mtesa is dignified in his manner, and does not lack a certain natural
air of distinction; his dress is elegant: a white _couftan_ finished
with a red band, stockings, slippers, vest of black cloth embroidered
with gold, and a _tarbouche_ with a silver plate on the top. He wears
a sword with ivory-inlaid hilt (a Zanzibar weapon), and a staff.
“I exhibited my presents, which Mtesa scarcely pretended to see, his
dignity forbidding him to show any curiosity.
“I address the traveller, who sits in front of me, on the left of the
king: ‘Have I the honour of speaking to Mr. Cameron?’
“STANLEY. ‘No, sir; Mr. Stanley.’
“MYSELF. ‘M. Linant de Bellefonds, member of the Gordon-Pasha
Expedition.’
“We bow low to each other, as though we had met in a drawing-room, and
our conversation is at an end for the moment.
“This meeting with Mr. Stanley greatly surprises me. Stanley was far
from my thoughts; I was totally ignorant of the object of his
Expedition.
“I take leave of the king, who meanwhile has been amusing himself by
making my unlucky soldiers parade and flourish their trumpets. I shake
hands with Mr. Stanley, and ask him to honour me with his presence at
dinner.
“I had scarcely been more than a few minutes in my hut when Mr.
Stanley arrived. After having mutually expressed the pleasure our
meeting gave us, Mr. Stanley informed me that Cameron had written from
Ujiji that he was starting for the Congo. Mr. Cameron, he told me,
must have been much embarrassed by the question of money, having
exceeded the amount allowed by the Royal Geographical Society. At
Ujiji, he would have lost all his companions, and would be actually
alone. Mr. Stanley was loud in his praises of Cameron, and hoped that
he would succeed in his expedition.”...
“Leaving his expedition at Usukuma, Mr. Stanley embarked with eleven
men on the Victoria Lake, in a small boat which he had brought with
him; he explored all the eastern part of the lake, penetrating into
all the bays, gulfs, and creeks, and taking the bearings of islands
and capes. I saw Mr. Stanley’s work, which is very extensive. He
showed me some curious sketches of islands he had seen; the islands of
the Bridge, the Grotto, and the Sphinx. The first is a natural bridge
of granite, with all the appearance of a bridge made by the hand of
man; the second is like the grotto of the enchantress Calypso; the
third greatly resembles the Egyptian Sphinx.”...
Colonel Linant de Bellefonds having thus described our meeting, there
remains but little for me to add.
As soon as I saw him approaching the burzah, I recognised him to be a
Frenchman. Not being introduced to him—and as I was then but a mere
guest of Mtesa, with whom it was M. Linant’s first desire to converse—I
simply bowed to him, until he had concluded addressing the Emperor, when
our introduction took place as he has described.
I was delighted at seeing him, and much more delighted when I discovered
that M. Linant was a very agreeable man. I observed that there was a
vast difference between his treatment of his men and the manner in which
I treated mine, and that his intercourse with the Waganda was conducted
after exactly opposite principles to those which governed my conduct. He
adopted a half military style which the Waganda ill brooked, and many
things uncomplimentary to him were uttered by them. He stationed guards
at the entrance to his courtyard to keep the Waganda at a distance,
except those bearing messages from Mtesa, while my courtyard was nearly
full of Watongolehs, soldiers, pages, children, with many a dark-brown
woman listening with open ears to my conversation with the Waganda. In
fact, my courtyard from morning to night swarmed with all classes, for I
loved to draw the natives to talk, so that perfect confidence might be
established between us, and I might gain an insight into their real
natures. By this freer converse with them I became, it seemed, a
universal favourite, and obtained information sufficient to fill two
octavo volumes.
M. Linant passed many pleasant hours with me. Though he had started from
Cairo previous to my departure from Zanzibar, and consequently could
communicate no news from Europe, I still felt that for a brief period I
enjoyed civilised life. His _cuisine_ was after the French fashion. He
possessed French beans and olive oil, various potted meats of Paris
brands, _pâtés de foie gras_ and Bologna sausage, sardines and
Marseilles biscuits, white sugar, coffee, cocoa, chocolate, and tea. If
we add to this list the articles that the natives and Mtesa’s bounty
furnished—milk, beef, kid, green and ripe bananas, eggs, sweet-potatoes,
tomatoes, melons, and cassava flour—it will be seen that his cook had
abundance of material wherewith to supply and satisfy our moderate
gastronomic tastes. The pleasure we mutually felt in each other’s
company, and the exceptional good health which blessed us, sharpened our
appetites and improved our digestion. The religious conversations which
I had begun with Mtesa were maintained in the presence of M. Linant de
Bellefonds, who, fortunately for the cause I had in view, was a
Protestant.[13] For when questioned by Mtesa about the facts which I had
uttered, and which had been faithfully transcribed, M. Linant, to
Mtesa’s astonishment, employed nearly the same words, and delivered the
same responses. The remarkable fact that two white men, who had never
met before, one having arrived from the south-east, the other having
emerged from the north, should nevertheless both know the same things,
and respond in the same words, charmed the popular mind without the
burzah as a wonder, and was treasured in Mtesa’s memory as being
miraculous.
The period of my stay with Mtesa drew to a close, and I requested leave
to depart, begging the fulfilment of a promise he had made to me that he
would furnish me with transport sufficient to convey the Expedition by
water from Kagehyi in Usukuma to Uganda. Nothing loth, since one white
man would continue his residence with him till my return, and being
eager to see the gifts I told him were safe at Usukuma, he gave his
permission, and commanded Magassa to collect thirty canoes, and to
accompany me to my camp.
_April 15._—On the 15th of April, then, escorted by Magassa and his
Watongolehs, and also by M. Linant and ten of his Nubian soldiers, we
left Rubaga.
We arrived at Usavara about 10 A.M., and I imagined, foolishly enough,
that Magassa would be ready for the voyage. But the Magassa of the 15th
of April was several grades higher in his own estimation than the
Magassa of the 1st of April. Fifteen days’ life in the Emperor’s favour
and promotion to an admiralship had intoxicated the youth. Magassa could
not be ready for two days.
“Not if I send a messenger back to Mtesa with this information?” I
asked.
“Ah, yes, perhaps to-morrow morning.”
“Only a few hours longer, M. Linant; so it does not matter much.
Meantime we will take possession of our old quarters at Usavara, and
pass the evening in a ramble along the shores of the bay, or a sail in
the boat.” To which suggestion M. Linant assented.
There was matter sufficient to engage us in conversation. The rich
region we trod, landscapes steeped in most vivid green, the splendour of
the forest foliage, the magnificent lake of Equatorial Africa, studded
with a thousand isles, the broad and now placid arm known as Murchison
Bay, the diversity of scenery, the nature of the rocks, the variety of
the plants, ourselves met upon this far strand of the inland sea, to
part perhaps for ever—a continuous chain of topics which, with an
intelligent and sympathetic companion like M. Linant, might have served
to make our rambles and our evenings in the hut enjoyable for weeks.
In the evening I concluded my letters dated 14th of April 1875, which
were sent to the _Daily Telegraph_ and the _New York Herald_, the
English and American journals I represented here, appealing for a
Christian mission to be sent to Mtesa.
The appeal written hurriedly, and included in the letter left at
Usavara, was as follows:—
“I have, indeed, undermined Islamism so much here that Mtesa has
determined henceforth, until he is better informed, to observe the
Christian Sabbath as well as the Muslim Sabbath, and the great
captains have unanimously consented to this. He has further caused the
Ten Commandments of Moses to be written on a board for his daily
perusal—for Mtesa can read Arabic—as well as the Lord’s Prayer and the
golden commandment of our Saviour, ‘Thou shalt love thy neighbour as
thyself.’ This is great progress for the few days that I have remained
with him, and, though I am no missionary, I shall begin to think that
I might become one if such success is feasible. But oh! that some
pious, practical missionary would come here! What a field and harvest
ripe for the sickle of civilisation! Mtesa would give him anything he
desired—houses, lands, cattle, ivory, etc.! he might call a province
his own in one day. It is not the mere preacher, however, that is
wanted here. The bishops of Great Britain collected, with all the
classic youth of Oxford and Cambridge, would effect nothing by mere
talk with the intelligent people of Uganda. It is the practical
Christian tutor, who can teach people how to become Christians, cure
their diseases, construct dwellings, understand and exemplify
agriculture, and turn his hand to anything, like a sailor—this is the
man who is wanted. Such an one, if he can be found, would become the
saviour of Africa. He must be tied to no church or sect, but profess
God and His Son and the moral law, and live a blameless Christian,
inspired by liberal principles, charity to all men, and devout faith
in Heaven. He must belong to no nation in particular, but to the
entire white race. Such a man or men, Mtesa, Emperor of Uganda, Usogo,
Unyoro, and Karagwé—an empire 360 geographical miles in length, by 50
in breadth—invites to repair to him. He has begged me to tell the
white men that, if they will only come to him, he will give them all
they want. Now, where is there in all the pagan world a more promising
field for a mission than Uganda? Colonel Linant de Bellefonds is my
witness that I speak the truth, and I know he will corroborate all I
say. The Colonel, though a Frenchman, is a Calvinist, and has become
as ardent a well-wisher for the Waganda as I am. Then why further
spend needlessly vast sums upon black pagans of Africa who have no
example of their own people becoming Christians before them? I speak
to the Universities Mission at Zanzibar and to the Free Methodists at
Mombasa, to the leading philanthropists, and the pious people of
England. ‘Here, gentlemen, is your opportunity—embrace it! The people
on the shores of the Nyanza call upon you. Obey your own generous
instincts, and listen to them; and I assure you that in one year you
will have more converts to Christianity than all other missionaries
united can number. The population of Mtesa’s kingdom is very dense; I
estimate the number of his subjects at 2,000,000. You need not fear to
spend money upon such a mission, as Mtesa is sole ruler, and will
repay its cost tenfold with ivory, coffee, otter skins of a very fine
quality, or even in cattle, for the wealth of this country in all
these products is immense. The road here is by the Nile, or viâ
Zanzibar, Ugogo, and Unyanyembé. The former route, so long as Colonel
Gordon governs the countries of the Upper Nile, seems the most
feasible.’”
When the letters were written and sealed, I committed them to the charge
of Colonel Linant. My friend promised he would await my return from
Usukuma; meanwhile he lent me a powerful field-glass, as mine, being
considerably injured, had been given to Mtesa.
Magassa was not ready on the second day of our arrival. One of his women
had absconded, or some of Mtesa’s chiefs had seized her. Only ten canoes
had arrived by the evening of the 16th.
_April 17._—The parting between M. Linant and myself, I shall allow him
to describe:
“At 5 A.M. drums are beaten: the boats going with Stanley are
collecting together.
“Mr. Stanley and myself are soon ready. The _Lady Alice_ is unmoored;
luggage, sheep, goats, and poultry are already stowed away in their
places. There is nothing to be done except to hoist the American flag
and head the boat southwards. I accompany Stanley to his boat; we
shake hands and commend each other to the care of God. Stanley takes
the helm; the _Lady Alice_ immediately swerves like a spirited horse,
and bounds forward, lashing the water of the Nyanza into foam. The
starry flag is hoisted, and floats proudly in the breeze; I
immediately raise a loud hurrah with such hearty good will as perhaps
never before greeted the traveller’s ears.
“The _Lady Alice_ is already far away. We wave our handkerchiefs as a
last farewell; my heart is full; I have just lost a brother. I had
grown used to seeing Stanley, the open-hearted, sympathetic man and
friend and admirable traveller. With him I forgot my fatigue; this
meeting had been like a return to my own country. His engaging
instructive conversation made the hours pass like minutes. I hope I
may see him again, and have the happiness of spending several days
with him.”
-----
# 12:
Wakungu is the plural of _mkungu_, a rank equivalent to “general.”
Watongoleh is the plural of _mtongoleh_, or “colonel.”
# 13:
In the original manuscript, which is in the possession of General C.
P. Stone, Chief of the Staff in his Highness the Khedive’s service, M.
Linant has alluded in the most flattering manner to these hours
devoted to religious instruction.