CHAPTER XXIV.

Caffre warfare—Great cry and little carnage—A Caffre war chant—War song of the renowned Cucutle—A Griqua Pitsho—An African council of war—The chiefs speech—The chief accused of apathy—A reproof to the kidney-eaters—Death before dishonour—Archery in Eastern Africa—Fan bowmen—War weapons of cannibal Fans—War knives and brain hatchets—The women warriors of Dahomey—The king’s fingers—King Gezo likened to a hen—Amazon parables—Pretty picture of an Abyssinian warrior—Omen birds—A non-believer in English gunnery—The sceptic convinced—A potent candle end—Savage metallurgy—The king and the blacksmith—Le Vaillant turns bellows mender.

Turning to Southern Africa, we find that among the Caffres the trade of war is conducted with a method and precision seldom found among savages. The most common causes of warfare are, what is proper tribute to the chief, grazing privileges, and territorial boundaries; no body of men, however, ever fall upon another body of their inimical countrymen without certain formalities are observed, with a view to warn the enemy what he may shortly expect, and to prepare himself accordingly. Bearing in their hands the tail either of a lion or a panther, ambassadors are sent to enquire whether the other side still persist in their obstinacy; if so, the tails are flourished threateningly, which is equivalent to a declaration of war.

The declaration made, all the vassal chiefs with their dependants are summoned to assemble. Everyone must implicitly obey this mandate, and follow his leader; whoever does not, is in danger of having his whole property confiscated. As soon as the army is collected at the habitation of the king, a number of deer are killed, that the warriors may be strengthened for the fight by eating abundantly of their flesh; at the same time they dance, and deliver themselves up entirely to rejoicing. The king presents the most distinguished and the most valiant among the Caffres with plumes of feathers from the wings of a sort of crane, and these they wear upon their heads as marks of honour. These plumes are regarded as official badges, and those wearing them are looked on as officers; and it is expected that every man so distinguished will not only manœuvre his company, but, spear or club in hand, head it and do battlewith the leading warrior on the opposing side. If a leader shirks his duty, he is condemned by the Caffre law to an ignominious death. Among the followers, too, whoever forsakes his leader is slain as soon as captured.

When the army moves, it takes with it as many deer as are deemed necessary for its support; and when the stronghold is approached, the “tail-bearers” are once more sent forward to give a last notice of the intended attack, repeating the motives which have given occasion to the war. If the enemy declares that at present he is not quite prepared,—that he has not yet collected his fighting men; or that it would be much more convenient if the other party would wait till the blacksmiths had made a few more assagies and sharpened the old ones,—the attacking party is content to squat down and kill and eat their bullocks and smoke their pipes till the enemy notifies his readiness to begin. A wide open place, without bushes and without rocks, is chosen as the field of battle, to avoid all possibility of an ambush, which is considered as wholly degrading.

The two armies, raising a loud war cry, approach in two lines till they are within seventy or eighty paces of each other. They now begin throwing their assagies, at the same time endeavouring to turn aside those of the enemy. The king or commander-in-chief, whoever he may be, remains always in the centre of the line, and takes an active part in the fight. Some of the inferior commanders remain near him, the rest remaining at the heads of their divisions. By degrees the two bands approach nearer and nearer to each other, till at length they come hand to hand, when the spears are thrown aside, reliance being placed on the clubs to decide the fortunes of the day.

Should night surprise the combatants, hostilities are suspended, the chiefs of either party meeting and endeavouring to bring about a treaty of peace; but should this be found impracticable, the fight commences again in the morning. If one of the armies takes to flight, the commander alone is blamed: everything depends on his personal bravery; and his falling back is the signal for the whole body to do the same. A flying enemy is immediately pursued; and above all things the conquerors seek to possess themselves of their women and children and cattle. If the vanquished party agrees to submit, his submission is immediately accepted, on condition that he acknowledges his conqueror from that time forward as his sovereign, and solemnly promises obedience to him. Whenthis is done, the captured women and children are sent back, as well as part of the cattle taken, it being a household maxim among these people that “we must not let even our enemies die with hunger.”

In these Caffre fights, however, the loss of life is never very considerable; the assagie is the principal weapon, and with it the Caffre is a not very certain marksman. To see the dancing and yelling, and the air thick with spears, one would suspect the bloodiest carnage; but it will often happen that after a few hours’ battle, in which say two thousand are engaged, it is a great chance if more than about twenty on each side are slain and about double that number wounded.

Caffre warfare, too, is merciful, as well from deliberation as from ignorance; and one falling unarmed into the hands of the enemy is seldom or never put to death; the women and children equally have nothing to fear for their lives. For this reason, women are sometimes employed as ambassadors, when there is danger that matters have been pushed too far, and that a male negotiator may be put to death before he has time to explain his errand.

“The Basutos and the Caffres,” says Mr. Cassalis, “are passionately fond of a kind of war-dance, at which the women are only present to aid by their songs and cries. A circle is formed by some hundreds of robust men, having the head adorned with tufts and plumes, and a panther’s skin thrown over the left shoulder. The signal is given, the war-song commences, and the mass moves simultaneously as if it were but one man. Every arm is in motion; every head turns at once; the feet of all strike the ground in time with such force that the vibration is felt for more than two hundred yards. Every muscle is in movement; every feature distorted; the most gentle countenance assumes a ferocious and savage expression. The more violent the contortions, the more beautiful the dance is considered. This lasts for hours; the song continues as loud and the frantic gestures lose none of their vigour. A strange sound is heard during the short intervals when the voices are silent in accordance with the measure; it is the panting of the dancers, their breath escaping with violence, and sounding afar off like an unearthly death rattle. This obstinate prolongation of so fatiguing an exercise arises from the challenges made to each other by the young men, which are even sent from one village to another. The question is, Who can keep up the longest? The gain of an ox depends upon a few more leaps. Dancers have been seen to fall down dead upon the spot; others receive injuries which aredifficult to cure. There is another war-dance which is less fatiguing. In this they form themselves in a straight line, and then run forward singing as if they were about to attack an enemy. When they have reached a certain distance, they halt, some men leave the ranks, fence from right to left, and then return to their comrades, who receive them with great acclamations. As soon as the line is again unbroken they return in the same manner to their starting point.

Besides war dances the savages of this region have war songs, of which the two following will serve as samples:—

“Goloane is going to fight;He departs with Letsie.He runs to the enemy,Him against whom they murmur,Him whom they will never obey.They insult his little red shield;And yet it is the old shieldOf the ox of Tane.What has not Mosheth just said?Cease to defy Goloane the veteran.However this may be, there are horses coming;Goloane brings back from the battleA grey horse and a red one;These will return no more to their masters.The ox without horns will not be restored.To-day war has broken outMore fiercely than ever;It is the war of Butsani and the Masetelis.A servant of Mohato,Goloane has hurled a piece of rock;He has hit the warrior with the tawny shield.Do you see the cowardly companions of this overthrown warriorStanding motionless near the rock?Why can their brother not go and take awayThe plumes with which they have adorned their heads?Goloane, thy praises are like the thick hazeWhich precedes the rain:Thy songs of triumph are heard in the mountains;They go down to the valleysWhere the enemy knelt beforeThe cowardly warriors!... They pray!...They beg that food may be given to them—They will see who will give them any.Give to our allies,To the warriors of Makaba;To those whom we never see come to attack us.Goloane returns lame from the strife;He returns, and his leg is streaming;A torrent of dark bloodEscapes from the leg of the hero.The companion of RantsoafiSeizes an heifer by the shoulder;It is Goloane, the son of Makao,Descendant of Molise.Let no one utter any more insolence!Ramakamane complains—He groans—he says that his heiferHas broken his white shoulder.The companion of the braveGoloane has contended with Empapang and Kabane.The javelin is flung!Goloane avoids it skilfully,And the dart of RabaneIs buried in the earth!”

“Goloane is going to fight;

He departs with Letsie.

He runs to the enemy,

Him against whom they murmur,

Him whom they will never obey.

They insult his little red shield;

And yet it is the old shield

Of the ox of Tane.

What has not Mosheth just said?

Cease to defy Goloane the veteran.

However this may be, there are horses coming;

Goloane brings back from the battle

A grey horse and a red one;

These will return no more to their masters.

The ox without horns will not be restored.

To-day war has broken out

More fiercely than ever;

It is the war of Butsani and the Masetelis.

A servant of Mohato,

Goloane has hurled a piece of rock;

He has hit the warrior with the tawny shield.

Do you see the cowardly companions of this overthrown warrior

Standing motionless near the rock?

Why can their brother not go and take away

The plumes with which they have adorned their heads?

Goloane, thy praises are like the thick haze

Which precedes the rain:

Thy songs of triumph are heard in the mountains;

They go down to the valleys

Where the enemy knelt before

The cowardly warriors!... They pray!...

They beg that food may be given to them—

They will see who will give them any.

Give to our allies,

To the warriors of Makaba;

To those whom we never see come to attack us.

Goloane returns lame from the strife;

He returns, and his leg is streaming;

A torrent of dark blood

Escapes from the leg of the hero.

The companion of Rantsoafi

Seizes an heifer by the shoulder;

It is Goloane, the son of Makao,

Descendant of Molise.

Let no one utter any more insolence!

Ramakamane complains—

He groans—he says that his heifer

Has broken his white shoulder.

The companion of the brave

Goloane has contended with Empapang and Kabane.

The javelin is flung!

Goloane avoids it skilfully,

And the dart of Rabane

Is buried in the earth!”

Here is another in which a warrior having fought his country’s battles thinks it not unbecoming to be his own trumpeter:

“I am Cucutle!The warriors have passed singing,The hymn of the battle has passed by me;It has passed, despising my childhood,And has stopped before the door of Bonkauku.I am the black warrior.My mother is Boseleso!I will rush as a lion,Like him that devours the virginsNear the forests of Fubasekoa.Mapatsa is with me—Mapatsa, the son of Tele—We set off singing the song of the Trot.Ramakoala, my uncle, exclaims:Cucutle, where shall we fight?We will fight before the fires of Makoso.We arrive....The warriors of the enemy, ranged in a line,Fling their javelins together;They fatigue themselves in vain:The father of Moatla rushes into their midst,He wounds a man in the armBefore the eyes of his mother,Who sees him fall,Ah! Where is the head of the son of Sebegoane?It has rolled to the middle of his native town.I entered victorious into his dwelling,And purified myself in the midst of his sheepfold:My eye is still surrounded with the clay of the victory.The shield of Cucutle has been pierced;Those of his enemies are intact,For they are the shields of cowards.I am the white thunderWhich growls after the rain!Ready to return to my children,I roar: I must have prey!I see the flocks and herds escapingAcross the tufted grass of the plain;I take them from the shepherd with the white and yellow shield.Go up on the high rocks of Macate;See the white cow run into the midst of the herd.A Makose will no longer despise my club;The grass grows in his deserted pens,The wind sweeps the thatchFrom his ruined huts;The humming of the goats is the only noise that is heardIn his town, once so gay.Tired, and dying with thirst, I went to the dwelling of Entele;His wife was churning delicious milk,The foam of which was white and frothyLike the saliva of a little child.I picked up a piece of a broken potTo drink out of the vessel,Which I soon left empty.The white cow that I conqueredHas a black head;Her breast is high and open—It was the nurse of the son of Matayane—I will go and offer it to my prince.The name of my chief is Makao,And Makao is Makoo:I swear it by the striped oxOf Mamasike!”

“I am Cucutle!

The warriors have passed singing,

The hymn of the battle has passed by me;

It has passed, despising my childhood,

And has stopped before the door of Bonkauku.

I am the black warrior.

My mother is Boseleso!

I will rush as a lion,

Like him that devours the virgins

Near the forests of Fubasekoa.

Mapatsa is with me—

Mapatsa, the son of Tele—

We set off singing the song of the Trot.

Ramakoala, my uncle, exclaims:

Cucutle, where shall we fight?

We will fight before the fires of Makoso.

We arrive....

The warriors of the enemy, ranged in a line,

Fling their javelins together;

They fatigue themselves in vain:

The father of Moatla rushes into their midst,

He wounds a man in the arm

Before the eyes of his mother,

Who sees him fall,

Ah! Where is the head of the son of Sebegoane?

It has rolled to the middle of his native town.

I entered victorious into his dwelling,

And purified myself in the midst of his sheepfold:

My eye is still surrounded with the clay of the victory.

The shield of Cucutle has been pierced;

Those of his enemies are intact,

For they are the shields of cowards.

I am the white thunder

Which growls after the rain!

Ready to return to my children,

I roar: I must have prey!

I see the flocks and herds escaping

Across the tufted grass of the plain;

I take them from the shepherd with the white and yellow shield.

Go up on the high rocks of Macate;

See the white cow run into the midst of the herd.

A Makose will no longer despise my club;

The grass grows in his deserted pens,

The wind sweeps the thatch

From his ruined huts;

The humming of the goats is the only noise that is heard

In his town, once so gay.

Tired, and dying with thirst, I went to the dwelling of Entele;

His wife was churning delicious milk,

The foam of which was white and frothy

Like the saliva of a little child.

I picked up a piece of a broken pot

To drink out of the vessel,

Which I soon left empty.

The white cow that I conquered

Has a black head;

Her breast is high and open—

It was the nurse of the son of Matayane—

I will go and offer it to my prince.

The name of my chief is Makao,

And Makao is Makoo:

I swear it by the striped ox

Of Mamasike!”

During Mr. Moffat’s missionary sojourn among the natives of Southern Africa it frequently fell to his lot to become pleader and arbitrator in most important public matters. Once, when among the Griquas, the neighbouring tribe of Mantatees threatened war; and the fiery Griquas were eager to accept the challenge. The English missionary, however, was against the whole business, and did not hesitate so to express himself at the war council.

Orders were sent off to the different towns and villages that apitsho, or parliament, be convened on the following day. As subjects of greatnational interest were to be discussed, all were in motion early. About 10 a.m. the whole body of armed men, amounting to about one thousand, came to the outskirts of the town, and returned again to the public fold, or place of assembly, some singing war-songs, others engaged in mock fights, with all the fantastic gestures which their wild imaginations could invent. The whole body took their seats lining the fold, leaving an arena in the centre for the speakers.

African Arms.

A few short extracts from some of the speeches will serve to show the manner in which these meetings are conducted. Although the whole exhibits a very grotesque scene, business is carried on with the most perfect order. There is but little cheering, and still less hissing, while every speaker fearlessly states his own sentiments. The audience is seated on the ground, each man having before him his shield, to which is attached a number of spears; a quiver containing poisoned arrows is hung from the shoulder; and a battle-axe is held in the right hand. Many were adorned with tiger skins and tails, and had plumes of feathers waving on their heads. In the centre a sufficient space was left for the privileged—those who had killed an enemy in battle—to dance and sing, in which they exhibited the most violent and fantastic gestures conceivable, which drew forth from the spectators the most clamorous applause. When they retire to their seats the speaker commences by commanding silence—“Be silent, ye Batlapis. Be silent, ye Barolongs”—addressing each tribedistinctly, not excepting the white people if any happen to be present, and to which each responds with a groan. He then takes from his shield a spear, and points it in the direction in which the enemy is advancing, imprecating a curse upon them, and thus declaring war by repeatedly thrusting his spear in that direction, as if plunging it into the enemy. This receives a loud whistling sound of applause. He next directs his spear towards the Bushman-country, south and south-west, imprecating also a curse on those “ox-eaters,” as they are called. The king on this, as on all similar occasions, introduced the business of the day by, “Ye sons of Molehabangue”—viewing all the influential men present as the friends or allies of his kingdom, which rose to more than its former eminence under the reign of that monarch, his father—“the Mantatees are a strong and victorious people; they have overwhelmed many nations and they are approaching to destroy us. We have been apprised of their manners, their deeds, their weapons, and their intentions. We cannot stand against the Mantatees; we must now concert, conclude, and be determined to stand; the case is a great one. You have seen the interest the missionary has taken in your safety; if we exert ourselves as he has done the Mantatees can come no farther. You see the white people are our friends. You see Mr. Thompson, a chief man of the Cape, has come to see us on horseback; he has not come to lurk behind our houses as a spy, but comes openly, and with confidence; his intentions are good, he is one on whom the light of day may shine, he is our friend. I now wait to hear what the general opinion is. Let everyone speak his mind, and then I shall speak again.” Mothibi manœuvred his spear as at the commencement, and then pointing it towards heaven, the audience shouted “Pula” (rain), on which he sat down amidst a din of applause.

Between each speaker a part or verse of a war-song is sung, the same antics are then performed, and again universal silence is commanded. The second speaker, Moshume, said, “To-day we are called upon to oppose an enemy, who is the enemy of all. Moffat has been near the camp of the enemy; we all opposed his going; we are to-day all glad that he went; he did not listen to us; he has warned us and the Griquas. What are we now to do? If we flee, they will overtake us; if we fight, they will conquer; they are as strong as a lion; they kill and eat; they leave nothing. [Here an old man interrupted the speaker, begging him to roar aloud that all might hear.] I know ye, Batlapis,” continuedMoshume, “that at home and in the face of women ye are men, but women in the face of the enemy; ye are ready to run when you should stand; think and prepare your hearts this day; be united in one; make your hearts hard.”

Incha, a Morolong, commenced his speech by recommending that the Batlapis should wait till the Mantatees arrived and then attack them. He had scarcely said this, when he was interrupted by Isite, a young chief, who sprang up calling out, “No, no; who called upon you to speak foolishness? Was there ever a king or chief of the Batlapis who said you must stand up and speak? Do you intend to instruct the sons of Molehabangue? Be silent. You say you know the men, and yet you wish us to wait till they enter our town. The Mantatees are conquerors, and if we flee we must lose all. Hear, and I will speak:—Let us attack the enemy where they are, and not wait till they approach our town; if we retreat there will be time for those in the rear to flee. We may fight and flee, and at last conquer; this we cannot do if we wait till they approach our town.” This speech was loudly cheered, while Incha silently sat down. A chief considerably advanced in years afterwards addressed the assembly. “Ye sons of Molehabangue! ye sons of Molehabangue! ye have done well this day. You are now acting wisely, first to deliberate, and then to proceed. The missionary has discovered our danger, like the rising sun after a dark night; a man sees the danger he was in when darkness shut his eyes. We must not act like Bahuanas; we must act like Makovas (white people). Is that ourpitsho? No; it is thepitshoof the missionary; therefore we must speak and act like Makovas.” Taisho arose, and having commanded silence, was received with reiterated applause, on which an old warrior rushed furiously up to him, and holding forth his arm, called out, “Behold the man who shall speak wisdom! Be silent, be instructed; a man—a wise man—has stood up to speak.” Taisho informed the preceding speaker that he was the man who charged his people with desertion in time of war. “Ye cowards; ye vagabonds!” he exclaimed, “deny the charge if you can. Shall I count up how often you have done so? Were I to repeat the instances, you would decamp like a chastened dog, or with shame place your head between your knees.” Addressing the assembly, he said, “I do not rise to-day to make speeches; I shall wait till the day of mustering. I beseech you to reflect on what is before you, and let the subject sink deep into your hearts, that you may not turn your backs in the dayof battle.” Turning to the king, he said, “You are too indifferent about the concerns of your people; you are rolled up in apathy; you are now called upon to show that you are a king and a man.”

When several other speakers had delivered their sentiments, chiefly exhorting to unanimity and courage, Mothibi resumed his central position, and after the usual gesticulations commanded silence. Having noticed some remarks of the preceding speakers, he added, “It is evident that the best plan is to proceed against the enemy, that they come no nearer; let not our towns be the seat of war; let not our houses be the scenes of bloodshed and destruction. No; let the blood of the enemy be spilt at a distance from our wives and children.” Turning to the aged chief, he said: “I hear you, my father; your words are true, they are good for the ear: it is good that we be instructed by the Makovas. I wish those evil who will not obey; I wish that they may be broken in pieces.” Then addressing the warriors: “There are many of you who do not deserve to eat out of a bowl, but only out of a broken pot; think on what has been said, and obey without muttering. I command you, ye chiefs of the Batlapis, Batlaros, Bamaires, Barolongs, and Bakotus, that you acquaint all your tribes of the proceedings of this day; let none be ignorant. I say again, ye warriors, prepare for the battle; let your shields be strong, your quivers full of arrows, and your battle-axes as sharp as hunger. Be silent, ye kidney-eaters (addressing the old men [among these people only the aged eat kidneys; the young avoid them from superstitious motives]), ye who are of no farther use but to hang about for kidneys when an ox is slaughtered. If your oxen are taken where will you get any more?” Turning to the women, he said: “Prevent not the warrior from going out to battle by your cunning insinuations. No; rouse the warrior of glory, and he will return with honourable scars, fresh marks of valour will cover his thighs, and we shall then renew the war song and dance, and relate the story of our conquest.” At the conclusion of this speech the air was rent with acclamations, the whole assembly occasionally joining in the dance, the women frequently taking the weapons from the hands of the men and brandishing them in the most violent manner; people of all ages using the most extravagant and frantic gestures for nearly two hours.

The warrior of Southern Africa would seem to be a man of different mettle to the South-Sea Islander, whose bark is so much more formidable than his bite. The instance about to be quoted in proof of this may, in its singleness, seem not much; there is, however, about it a tone that is significantof the magnanimity of a race, rather than of an isolated case of barbarous heroism. The nature of this noble African’s offence is not mentioned by the missionary who relates the story; but that it was not monstrous, may be fairly assumed from the criminal’s behaviour:—

“He was a man of rank, and wore on his head the usual badge of dignity. He was brought to head-quarters. His arm bore no shield, nor his hand a spear; he had been divested of these, which had been his glory. He was brought into the presence of the king and his chief council, charged with a crime for which it was in vain to expect pardon, even at the hands of a more humane government. He bowed his fine elastic figure and kneeled before the judge. The case was investigated silently, which gave solemnity to the scene. Not a whisper was heard among the listening audience, and the voices of the council were only audible to each other and the nearest spectators. The prisoner, though on his knees, had something dignified and noble in his mien. Not a muscle of his countenance moved, but his bright black eyes indicated a feeling of intense interest, which the moving balance between life and death only could produce. The case required little investigation; the charges were clearly substantiated, and the culprit pleaded ‘Guilty.’ But alas! he knew it was at a bar where none ever heard the heart-reviving sound of pardon, even for offences small compared with his. A pause ensued, during which the silence of death pervaded the assembly. At length the monarch spoke, and addressing the prisoner, said: ‘You are a dead man; but I shall do to-day what I never did before; I spare your life for the sake of my friend and father,’ pointing to the spot where I stood. ‘I know his spirit weeps at the shedding of blood; for his sake I spare your life. He has travelled from a far country to see me, and he has made my heart white; but he tells me that to take away life is an awful thing, and never can be undone again. He has pleaded with me not to go to war, nor destroy life. I wish him when he returns to his own home again to return with a heart as white as he has made mine. I spare you for his sake, for I love him, and he has saved the lives of my people. But,’ continued the king, ‘you must no more associate with the nobles of the land, nor enter the towns of the princes of the people, nor ever again mingle in the dance of the mighty. Go to the poor of the field, and let your companions be the inhabitants of the desert.’ The sentence passed, the pardoned man was expected to bow in grateful adoration to him whom he was wont to look upon and exalt in songs applicable only to one to whom belongs universal sway and thedestinies of man. But no; holding his hands clasped on his bosom he replied: ‘O king, afflict not my heart! I have merited thy displeasure; let me be slain like a warrior; I cannot live with the poor.’ And, raising his hand to the ring he wore on his brow, he continued, ‘How can I live among the dogs of the king and disgrace these badges of honour which I won among the spears and shields of the mighty? No, I cannot live. Let me die, O Pezoolu!’ His request was granted, and his hands tied direct over his head. How my exertions to save his life were vain. He disdained the boon on the conditions offered, preferring death with honours he had won at the point of his spear—honours which even the act that condemned him did not tarnish—to exile and poverty among the children of the desert. He was led forth, a man walking on each side. My eye followed him till he reached the top of a precipice, over which he was precipitated into the deep pool of the river beneath, where the crocodiles, accustomed to such meals, were yawning to devour him ere he could reach the bottom.”

Turning to Eastern Africa, we are somewhat surprised to find the native “a good archere and a fayre.” “The cubit-high Armiger,” Mr. Burton tells us, “begins as soon as he can walk with miniature weapons, a cane bow and reed bird-bolts tipped with wood, to practise till perfect at gourds and pumpkins; he considers himself a man when he can boast of iron tips. The bow in East Africa is invariably what is called a self-bow, that is to say, made of a single piece, and backed weapons are unknown. It is uncommonly stiff. When straight it may measure five feet from tip to tip. It is made with the same care as the spear from a branch of the matta tree laboriously cut and scraped so as to taper off towards the horns and smeared with oil or grease, otherwise it is easily sprung, and it is sometimes adorned with plates of tin and zinc with copper or brass wire and tips. The string is made of gut, the tendons of a bullock’s neck or hock, and sometimes of tree fibre; it is nearly double the bow in length, the extra portion being whipped for strength as well as contingent use round the upper horn. In shooting, the bow is grasped with the left hand; but the thumb is never extended along the back, the string is drawn with the two bent forefingers, though sometimes the shaft is held after the Asiatic fashion with the thumb and index. The bow is pulled with a jerk and not let fly, as the Europeans, with a long steady loose. The best bows are made by the tribes near the Pufyi River.

The Universal Weapon.

“The arrow is about two feet in length; the shaft is made of some lightwood and often the reed. Its fault is want of weight; to inflict damage upon an antelope it must not be used beyond point-blank fifteen to twenty paces, and a score will be shot into a bullock before it falls. The musketeer, despising the arrow at a distance fears it in close quarters, knowing that for the one shot the archer can discharge a dozen. Fearing the action of the wind upon the light shafts, the archer inserts into the cloven end three or four feathers. The pile or iron head is curiously and cruelly barbed with long waving tails, the neck is toothed and edged by denting the iron when hot with an axe, and it is sometimes half sawed that it may break before extraction. The East Africans also have ‘forkers’ or two-headed shafts and bird-bolts, or blunt arrows tipped with some hard wood, used when the weapon is likely to be lost. Before loosing an arrow the archer throws into the air a pinch of dust, not to find out the wind, but for good luck, like the Tartars of Tibet before discharging their guns. In battle the heavy-armed man holds his spear and a sheaf of spare arrows in the bow hand, whilst a quiver slung to the left side contains reservemissiles; and a little axe stuck in the right side of the girdle is ready when the rest fail. The ronga or quiver is a bark case neatly cut and stained. It is of two forms, full length and provided with a cover for poisoned, and half length for unpoisoned, arrows.”

A Savage Bowman.

The Fans of Equatorial Africa have a great diversity of arms. “Among the crowd to-day,” says M. Du Chaillu, writing in a Fan village in which he was lodging, “I saw men armed with cross-bows, from which are shot either iron-headed arrows or the little insignificant-looking, but really most deadly poison-tipped arrows. These are only slender reeds, a foot long, whose sharpened ends are dipped into a deadly vegetable poison which these people know how to make. The arrows are so light that they would blow away if simply laid in the grove of the bow. To prevent this they use a kind of sticky gum, a lump of which is kept on the under side of the bow, and with which a small spot in the grove is slightly rubbed. The handle of the bow is ingeniously split, and by a little peg, which acts as a trigger, the bow-string is disengaged, and as the spring is very strong it sends the arrow to a great distance, and, light as it is, with great force. But the merest puncture kills inevitably. They are good marksmen with their bows, which require great strength to bend. They have to sit on their haunches and apply both feet to the middle of the bow, while they pull with all their strength on the string to bend it back. The larger arrows have an iron head something like the sharp barbs of aharpoon. These are used for hunting wild beasts, and are about two feet long. But the more deadly weapon is the little insignificant stick of bamboo, not more than twelve inches long, and simply sharpened at one end. This is the famed poison-arrow, a missile which bears death wherever it touches, if only it pricks a pin’s point of blood. The poison is made of the juices of a plant, which was not shown me. They dip the sharp ends of the arrows several times in the sap, and let it get thoroughly dried into the wood. It gives the point a red colour. The arrows are very carefully kept in a little bag made neatly of the skin of some wild animal. They are much dreaded among the tribes about here, as they can be thrown or projected with such power as to take effect at a distance of fifteen yards, and with such velocity that you cannot see them at all till they are spent; this I have often proved myself. There is no cure for a wound from one of these harmless-looking little sticks—death follows in a very short time. Some of the Fans bore on their shoulders the terrible war-axe, one blow of which quite suffices to split a human skull. Some of these axes, as well as their spears and other iron-work, were beautifully ornamented with scroll-work and wrought in graceful lines and curves, which spoke well for their artisans.

Fan Weapons.

“The war-knife which hangs by the side is a terrible weapon for a hand-to-hand conflict, and, as they explained to me, is designed to thrust through the enemy’s body: they are about three feet long. There is another huge knife also worn by some of the men in the crowd before me. This is over a foot long, by about eight inches broad, and is used to cut downthrough the shoulders of an adversary. It must do tremendous execution. Then there is a very singular pointed axe which is thrown from a distance as American Indians use the tomahawk. When thrown it strikes with the point down and inflicts a terrible wound. They use it with great dexterity. The object aimed at with this axe is the head. The point penetrates to the brain and kills the victim immediately; and then the round edge of the axe is used to cut the head off, which is borne off by the victor as a trophy.

“The spears, which are six or seven feet in length, are thrown by the natives with great force and with an accuracy of aim which never ceased to surprise me. They make the long slender rod fairly whistle through the air. Most of them can throw a spear effectively to the distance of from twenty to thirty yards.

“Most of the knives and axes were ingeniously sheathed in covers made of snake-skins, or human skin taken from some victim in battle. Many of these sheaths are ingeniously made, and are slung round the neck by cords which permit the weapon to hang at the side out of the wearer’s way. Though so warlike they have no armour; in fact, their working in iron is as yet too rude for such a luxury. The only weapon of defence is the huge shield of elephant’s hide; but this is even bullet-proof: as it is very large, three and a half feet long by two and a half broad, it suffices to cover the whole body.

“Besides their weapons many of the men wore a small knife, but rather unwieldy, which served the various offices of a jack knife, a hatchet, and a table-knife. But though rude in shape they used it with great dexterity.”

Africa, South and East, having come in for their shares of notice, let us turn to Western Africa and see how there is managed the terrible game of war. Anything connected with bloodshed in this portion of the globe at once suggests Dahomey. Very well, Dahomey let it be; let us, with Mr. Forbes, attend a review of King Gezo’s “women” soldiers:

“At noon we attended the parade of the amazon army, ostensibly the taking the oath of fidelity by those extraordinary troops, and a most novel and exciting scene it proved. Under a canopy of umbrellas on the south side of the Ahjahee market-place, surrounded by ministers, carbooceers, dwarfs, hunchbacks, etc., all militaire, on a skull-ornamented war-stool sat the king, in front sat the too-noo-noo, whilst on the right, under a similar canopy, similarly attended, was a female court, in front of which was the man-hae-pah. In different parts of the field bivouackedthe amazon regiments. As I arrived and took my seat on the king’s right hand, one regiment was marching off, and a herald called—

‘Ah Haussoo-lae-beh-Haussoo!’Oh King of Kings!

‘Ah Haussoo-lae-beh-Haussoo!’

Oh King of Kings!

A regiment of bushrangers now advanced. As a mark of distinction, each amazon had three stripes of whitewash round each leg. As soon as they arrived in front of the throne, they saluted the king, when one of the officers stepped forward and swore in the name of the regiment, if they went to war, to conquer or die. ‘Have we not conquered,’ exclaimed she, ‘all the province of Mahea? So will we always conquer or die.’ Then a second officer stepped forward and said: ‘When the Attahpahans heard we were advancing, they ran away. If we go to war, and any return not conquerors, let them die. If I retreat, my life is at the king’s mercy. Whatever the town to be attacked, we will conquer, or bury ourselves in its ruins.’ As soon as this officer had thus sworn, a third came from the ranks and said: ‘We are eighty, and of the right brigade, never yet known to turn our backs to the enemy. If any one can find fault with us, young or old, let us know it.’ A male officer standing near the king was about to address this amazon, when he was told by a fetish man, ‘that woman is fetish, you are not; you must not interfere with her.’ After saluting the male and female courts, one of the amazons said: ‘I have no promise to make. As I have behaved, and will behave, so I am ready to be judged: let my actions prove me!’ Then another added: ‘By the king’s offspring, I swear never to retreat!’ whilst a third continued, ‘War is our great friend; without it there is no cloth nor armlets: let us to war, and conquer or die!’ The speaking was then taken up by a fourth, saying: ‘I am a wolf—the enemy of all I meet, who are the king’s enemies—and if I do not conquer, let me die.’ And a fifth, who added: ‘I am mother of Antonio (Da Souza). I long to kill an elephant for him to show my regard; but the Attahpahans must be exterminated first. One of the male soldiers sent us Guinea pepper to excite us to war: such is an insult.’ A sixth amazon, having first recited the names of all the countries and towns conquered by the Dahomans, to Ee-ah-wae (the English mother, an amazon general), the latter repeated them to two female heralds, who proclaimed them aloud. When this recitation was concluded, the amazon said to the king: ‘If we go to war, we cannot come back empty handed; if we fail to catch elephants, let us be content with flies. The king only knows where the war shall be.’Ah-koh-yoh (colonel of amazons) then began her address: ‘Cloths,’ she said, ‘are made by fingers—we are the king’s fingers!’ Whilst Ah-koong-ah-dah (colonel of amazons) added: ‘Carriages cannot be drawn without wheels—we are the wheels!’ And then both together cried: ‘We have destroyed Attahpahan, let us go to Abeahkeutah, where we will conquer or die.’ A dance of the whole regiment followed; and then crawling on their hands and knees, suddenly with a yell they rose and retired at a rapid pace. Another regiment followed, about 300 strong. Fetish women in advance carried the fetish images, which were placed on the ground between the two courts. All kneeling, raised their muskets and saluted, after which they were again joined by about 200, in the dress of amazons, retainers of the late Cha-cha, raised in 1848, who introduced themselves as young soldiers, anxious to witness the glory of kings. The colonel then advanced, and said: ‘The Attahpahans wanted courage to fight against Dahomey. Give us Abeahkeutah, and if we do not conquer our heads are at your disposal. If the Abeahkeutahs run into the water we will follow them; if into fire, we will follow also.’ Another amazon added: ‘As sure as Abeahkeutah now stands, we will destroy it.’ Whilst a third took up the theme: ‘Attahpahan is destroyed! Give us Abeahkeutah: that is a strong place.’ Anrou entered a room in which lay a corpse; he lifted the sheet, and was asked why? ‘Because (he answered) I am anxious to go where that man has gone. Let us go there, or conquer Abeahkeutah.’ A fourth amazon concluded the address thus: ‘Talk of Attahpahan—it is gone—not worth speaking of: Abeahkeutah is worthy of my consideration: if ordered there, we will bring back a good report. As grass is cut down to clear the road, so will we cut off the Abeahkeutahs.’ The amazon standard-bearer next came forward, and said: ‘These standards are in our charge; we swear to protect them, or die.’ All then saluted and marched off at the double-quick step. Another regiment of 160 advanced, and, sitting down, saluted, their fetish gear being placed in front. Some women belonging to Souza family, in military costume, joined them. An amazon of this regiment then commenced the usual address, thus: ‘The king is like a hen spreading out her wings to protect her young from the rain. We are under the king’s protection: if we do not fight, let us die.’ (The king having drank health with me, handed a tumbler of liquor to the Possoo.) After which another of the amazons continued the speaking in these words: ‘Possoo, if you head us in this war, may we die. Send us to Abeahkeutah, and we will destroy it or die.’One of the male courtiers here said: ‘If you do not you will lose your name.’ On which the amazon replied: ‘We are newly-born by the king: we have and will uphold him.’ And another added, with emphasis: ‘Where the king sends us, thence comes a good report. I am the king’s daughter, under his protection: he gave me to the late Da Souza: death seized him. I now belong to Antonio. My name is Ah-gae-see; and all I want is to go to war upon Abeahkeutah.’ Another amazon then stepped forward and asked: ‘What came we here for? Not to show ourselves, but to ask the king for war. Give us Abeahkeutah, and we will destroy it or die.’ Followed by another, who said: ‘Fetish men never initiate the poor. Give us Abeahkeutah: there is plenty. Attahpahan is destroyed and unworthy of our future care.’ At this part Souza’s women advanced and sang:

‘The amazons are ready to die in war;Now is the time to send them.’

‘The amazons are ready to die in war;

Now is the time to send them.’

All the female court then left their stools, and, heading the amazons, advanced and saluted the king, and then retiring, resumed their positions: whilst, from the midst of the amazon army, a little girl of six years of age advanced and said: ‘The king spoke thrice when he spoke of war: let the king speak once now: let it be on Abeahkeutah.’ Again all the amazons advanced, and shouting, called on Da Souza to emulate his father. ‘As the porcupine shoots a quill a new one grows in its place, so let matters be in the port of Whydah: let one ship replace another.’ All again prostrated themselves and threw dirt on their heads: while two amazon heralds recited the names of the king, and added one from the Attahpahan war, the glah-glash, or Chimpanzee. Again all rose, whilst an amazon chief makes the following speech: ‘As the blacksmith takes an iron bar and by fire changes its fashion, so have we changed our nature. We are no longer women, we are men. By fire, we will change Abeahkeutah. The king gives us cloth, but without thread. If corn is put in the sun to dry and not looked after, will not the goats eat it? If Abeahkeutah be left too long some other nation will spoil it. A cask of rum cannot roll itself; a table in a house becomes useful when anything is placed thereon: the Dahoman army without the amazons are as both, unassisted. Spitting makes the belly more comfortable, and the outstretched hand will be the receiving one: so we ask you for war, that our bellies may have their desire and our hands be filled.’ At the conclusion of this harangue the female court again rose, and, heading theamazons, saluted the king, when, pointing to the hearers, all sang in chorus:

‘Soh-jah-mee!’May thunder and lightning kill us if we break our oaths

‘Soh-jah-mee!’

May thunder and lightning kill us if we break our oaths

The king now left the tent, amid cries of ‘Kok-pah-sah-kree’ (a peculiarly fierce eagle); whilst all fell prostrate. The king received a handsome ebony club, and danced with it. Then the amazons rose, and the king thus addressed them: ‘The hunter buys a dog, and having trained him, he takes him out hunting without telling him the game he expects to meet. When in the bush he sees a beast, and by his teaching the dog pursues it. If the dog returns without the game, the huntsman in his anger kills him, and leaves his carcass a prey to the wolves and vultures. If I order you to clear the bush and you do not do it, will I not punish you? If I tell my people to put their hands in the fire, they must do it. When you go to war, if you are taken prisoners, you will be sacrificed, and your bodies become food for wolves and vultures.’ Having concluded his oration, the king again danced and drank; then handed round rum in a large pewter basin to the amazon officers. On his return to his tent all the amazons, in number about 2,400, marched off,—and thus ended the parade.”

Although the African warrior has already occupied rather more than his fair share of our space, we must still find room for a description of an Abyssinian chief as he was witnessed by our countryman Mr. Bruce. His name was Guangoul, and he was chief of the eastern Galla. He came one day, accompanied by about 500 foot and 40 horse, to pay his respects to the king. He was a little, thin, cross-made man, of no apparent strength or swiftness, so far as could be conjectured; his legs and thighs being small for his body, and his head large. He was of a yellow, sickly colour, neither black nor brown, had long hair plaited and interwoven with the bowels of oxen, and so knotted and twisted together as to render it impossible to distinguish the hair from the bowels, which hung down in long strings, part before and part behind, forming the most extraordinary ringlets ever seen. He had, likewise, a wreath of ox bowels hung about his neck and several rounds of the same about his middle which served as a girdle, under which was a short cotton cloth dipped in butter, and all his body was wet, and running down with the same. In his country, when he appears in state, the beast he rides upon is a cow. He was then in full dress, and mounted upon one not of the largest size, but which had monstrous horns;and rode without saddle. He had short drawers, which did not reach to the middle of his thighs; his knees, legs, feet, and all his body, being bare. He had a shield of a single hide, warped by the heat in several directions, and much in the shape of a large high-crowned hat. He carried a short lance in his right hand, with an ill-made iron head, and a shaft that seemed to be of thorn-tree, but altogether without ornament, which is seldom the case with the arms of barbarians. Whether it was necessary for poising himself on the sharp ridge of the beast’s back, or whether it was meant for graceful riding, Mr. Bruce could not determine, being quite unskilled in cowmanship; but this barbarian leaned exceedingly backwards, pushing out his belly, and holding his left arm and shield extended on one side, and his right arm and lance in the same way on the other, like wings. The king was seated on his ivory chair, almost in the middle of his tent. The day was very hot, and an intolerable stench announced the approach of the filthy chieftain to all in the tent, before they saw him. The king, when he perceived him coming, was so struck with his whole figure and appearance, that he was seized with an immoderate fit of laughter, which he found it impossible to stifle. He therefore rose from his chair, and ran as fast as he could into another apartment, behind the throne. The savage alighted from his cow, at the door of the tent, with all his tripes about him; and while the officers in attendance were admiring him as a monster, seeing the king’s seat empty, he imagined that it had been prepared for him, and down he sat upon the crimson silk cushion, with the butter running from every part of his body. A general cry of astonishment was raised by every person in the tent, on which he started up; and before he had time to recollect himself, they all fell upon him, and with pushes and blows drove this greasy chieftain to the door of the tent, staring with wild amazement, not knowing what was the matter. It is high treason and punishable with immediate death, to sit down in the king’s chair; and Guangoul owed his life to his ignorance alone. The king had beheld the scene through the curtain; if he laughed heartily in the beginning, he laughed ten times more at the catastrophe. The cushion was thrown away, and a yellow India shawl spread on the ivory stool; and ever afterwards, when it was placed, and the king not there, the stool was turned on its face upon the carpet, to prevent similar accidents.”

Before starting on any war expedition, the Abyssinians, like the ancient Romans, listen for the voice of certain birds, and according to whethertheir notes are heard on the right hand or on the left, so do they anticipate a prosperous or unfavourable journey. Many expeditions for the purposes of war or hunting are postponed at the moment, when, if undertaken, success seemed nearly certain, simply because a little bird called from the left-hand side at starting. Similarly, many a wife has been kept for several days anxiously expecting her husband because the bird chose to perch on the right hand, the right hand omen being propitious for setting out from home, and left for returning. The black and white falcon, called heregaddy-gaddy, is considered a bird of omen in some parts of Tigre. If this bird fly away at the approach of travellers, the sign is unfavourable, while on the contrary, if it remained perched and looking at them, they count upon a most prosperous journey. “Hunters on the Mareb,” says a recent traveller, “follow much the warning of a small bird as to the direction they should take, and I have known parties turn back from pursuing the fresh trail of a herd of buffaloes and take an opposite direction, merely because its chirp was heard on the wrong side. Once a party of about thirty Barea having been reported to be in the neighbourhood, a large force collected, perhaps a hundred and fifty men; but after arriving in sight of the enemy, the gallant army returned peaceably home, and considered such a course not only justifiable, but right, because when halting to reconnoitre, the omen had been heard on the side favourable to their adversaries. On another occasion I had started on a hunting and foraging expedition, with some fifteen tried and picked men. We had remained a fortnight in the frontier woods, and had seen nothing of the Barea; one day, however, a bird gave us an omen of success, and the night following we discovered their fires on a hill, scarce a mile distant from where we lay. Our party was in a moment on thequi vive, primings were looked to, edges of knives felt, and rubbed on a stone, and each one anticipated the glory he was to gain for himself in butchering a few of the enemy. Some were even so much excited that they began to strut about and count their deeds of valour in expectancy of what they would have to do on their return home, and to use a Yankee expression the whole felt themselves “half froze for hair,” or rather for the still more cruel trophies which Abyssinians take from their slaughtered enemies, But a night bird’s voice settled the whole business, and instead of waiting as had been our intention for a few hours before sunrise to strike thecoup, we all sneaked off homeward like so many whipped dogs, for the vain-glory of the warriors had oozed out of their finger ends at this intimationof the beaked augur, that they would be safest in the bosoms of their family circles. In advancing, signs of the Barea were eagerly sought for; in retreating, so great was the panic caused by the unwitting bird, that we kept the sharpest look out lest they should come upon us unawares.”

During his sojourn in Abyssinia, the renowned traveller Bruce found himself on one occasion the guest of a vain, bragging officer of the king’s army, one Guebra Mascal. In Guebra’s estimation no one was so good a fellow or marksman as himself, and when some one happened to praise Mr. Bruce’s skill with the gun, Guebra Mascal greeted the remark with an annoying and contemptuous laugh. Our traveller was angry, and told him, that in his gun the end of a tallow-candle would do greater execution than an iron ball in the best of Guebra Mascal’s, with all his boasted skill. The Abyssinian called him a liar, and a Frank; and, upon his rising, immediately gave him a kick with his foot. Mr. Bruce, in a transport of rage, seized him by the throat, and threw him on the ground. Guebra drew his knife; and attempting our traveller, gave him a slight cut near the crown of his head. Hitherto Mr. Bruce had not struck him; he now wrested the knife from him and struck him on the face so violently with the handle, as to mark him with scars which continued discernible even amid the deep pitting of the small-pox. All was now confusion and uproar. An adventure of so serious a nature overcame the effects of the wine (for there had been drinking) upon our countryman. He wrapped himself in his cloak, returned home, and went to bed. His friends were eager to revenge the insult which he had received; and the first news he heard in the morning was that Guebra Mascal was in irons at the house of the Ras. Mr. Bruce, though still angry, was at a loss what measures to take. The Ras would probably hear his complaints; but his adversary was formidable. Instead, therefore, of demanding justice, Mr. Bruce excused and palliated the conduct of Guebra Mascal, and obtained his liberty.

Mr. Bruce, however, was sensible that the cause of his quarrel with Guebra Mascal was not immediately forgotten at court. The king, one day, asked him whether he was not drunk himself, as well as his opponent, when that quarrel arose. Mr. Bruce replied that he was perfectly sober; for their entertainer’s red wine was finished, and he never willingly drank hydromel. His Majesty, with a degree of keenness, returned: “Did you then soberly say to Guebra Mascal, that an end of a tallow-candle in a gun in your hand would do more execution than an iron bullet in his?” “Certainly, sir, I said so.” “And why?” “Because it wastruth.” “With a tallow-candle you can kill a man or a horse?” “Pardon me, sir; your Majesty is now in place of my sovereign; it would be great presumption in me to argue with you, or urge a conversation against an opinion in which you are already fixed.” The king’s kindness and curiosity, and Mr. Bruce’s desire to vindicate himself, carried matters at length so far, that an experiment with a tallow-candle was proposed. Three courtiers brought each a shield; Mr. Bruce charged his gun with a piece of tallow-candle, and pierced through three at once, to the astonishment, and even the confusion, of the Abyssinian monarch and his courtiers. A sycamore table was next aimed at, and as easily perforated as the shields. These feats the simple Abyssinians attributed to the power of magic; but they made a strong impression on the mind of the monarch in favour of our traveller.

Before we quit the subject of Savage Warfare, it may not be out of place to say a word or two concerning the manufacture of savage war tools. Turning back these pages we may find that, as a man of battle, our brother the barbarian, despite his profound ignorance, is by no means a bungling craftsman. His business is to knock his enemy on the head—to knock his life out, in fact; and this operation may be performed as neatly with the iron-woodmeréof the New Zealander, or thewaddiof the Australian Aborigine, as by a leaden pellet from the mouth of the modern Minié or Whitworth—at least if not as neatly, quite as effectively. The savage has no notion of refinement in killing; give him a revolver, perfected with the very latest improvements, and explain to him how that it will send a man to death with as fine a hole in his carcass that the grim extinguisher of life himself shall be almost puzzled to discover his title to the slain one, and he—the savage—will reject it; it is a “witch thing,” and he would rather let such alone. At the same time, if you will make him the present, untrammelled by conditions, he will accept it; as by thrusting a tough stick up one of the barrels the revolver may be converted into a handy club, with which a man may kill his enemy in such a way that half a glance will show the manner of his death.

The club, then, is the universal weapon among the utterly savage; it is a weapon which may be procured without trouble; a round stone lashed to the end of a stick, the thigh-bone of a buffalo,—anything in fact of a handy length and with a heavy knob to it will suffice. As soon, however, as the savage advances a step—as soon as he learns the nature of iron and what sort of thing a sharp-edged chopper is—his blunt-headed club ceasesto give him satisfaction. It is much more satisfying to slash an enemy than to simply bruise him—to poke and stab him full of red holes than to thump him—therefore there follows an immediate demand for sharp spikes and edged knives, and at least one member of every family sets up as a blacksmith.

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