The Blood Covenant: A Primitive Rite and its Bearings on Scripture. H. Clay Trumbull

were friends and brothers in a sacred covenant; life for life. At the conclusion of the covenant, they exchanged gifts; as the customary ratification, or accompaniment, of the compact. They even vied with each other in proofs of their unselfish fidelity, in this new covenant of friendship.[30]

      Again and again, before and after this incident, Stanley entered into the covenant of blood-brotherhood with representative Africans; in some instances by the opening of his own veins; at other times by allowing one of his personal escort to bleed for him. In January, 1875, a “great magic doctor of Vinyata” came to Stanley’s tent to pay a friendly visit, “bringing with him a fine, fat ox as a peace offering.” After an exchange of gifts, says Stanley, “he entreated me to go through the process of blood-brotherhood, which I underwent with all the ceremonious gravity of a pagan.”[31]

      Three months later, in April, 1875, when Stanley found himself and his party in the treacherous toils of Shekka, the King of Bumbireh, he made several vain attempts to “induce Shekka, with gifts, to go through the process of blood-brotherhood.” Stanley’s second captain, Safeni, was the adroit, but unsuccessful, agent in the negotiations. “Go frankly and smilingly, Safeni, up to Shekka, on the top of that hill,” said Stanley, “and offer him these three fundo of beads, and ask him to exchange blood with you.” But the wily king was not to be dissuaded from his warlike purposes in that way. “Safeni returned. Shekka had refused the pledge of peace.”[32] His desire was to take blood, if at all, without any exchange.

      After still another three months, in July, 1875, Stanley, at Refuge Island, reports better success in securing peace and friendship through blood-giving and blood-receiving. “Through the influence of young Lukanjah—the cousin of the King of Ukerewé”—he says, “the natives of the mainland had been induced to exchange their churlish disposition for one of cordial welcome; and the process of blood-brotherhood had been formally gone through [with], between Manwa Sera, on my part, and Kijaju, King of Komeh, and the King of Itawagumba, on the other part.”[33]

      It was at “Kampunzu, in the district of Uvinza, where dwell the true aborigines of the forest country,”—a people whom Stanley afterwards found to be cannibals—that this rite was once more observed between the explorers and the natives. “Blood-brotherhood being considered as a pledge of good-will and peace,” says Stanley, “Frank Pocock [a young Englishman who was an attendant of Stanley] and the chief [of Kampunzu] went through the ordeal; and we interchanged presents”—as is the custom in the observance of this rite.[34]

      At the island of Mpika, on the Livingstone River, in December, 1876, there was another bright episode in Stanley’s course of travel, through this mode of sealing friendship. Disease had been making sad havoc in Stanley’s party. He had been compelled to fight his way along through a region of cannibals. While he was halting for a breakfast on the river bank over against Mpika, an attack on him was preparing by the excited inhabitants of the island. Just then his scouts captured a native trading party of men and women who were returning to Mpika, from inland; and to them his interpreters made clear his pacific intentions. “By means of these people,” he says, “we succeeded in checking the warlike demonstrations of the islanders, and in finally persuading them to make blood-brotherhood; after which we invited canoes to come and receive [these hostages] their friends. As they hesitated to do so, we embarked them in our own boat, and conveyed them across to the island. The news then spread quickly along the whole length of the island that we were friends, and as we resumed our journey, crowds from the shore cried out to us, ‘Mwendé Ki-vuké-vuké’ (‘Go in peace!’)”[35]

      Once more it was at the conclusion of a bloody conflict, in the district of Vinya-Njara, just below Mpika Island, that peace was sealed by blood. When practical victory was on Stanley’s side, at the cost of four of his men killed, and thirteen more of them wounded, then he sought this means of amity. “With the aid of our interpreters,” he says, “we communicated our terms, viz., that we would occupy Vinya-Njara, and retain all the canoes unless they made peace. We also informed them that we had one prisoner, who would be surrendered to them if they availed themselves of our offer of peace: that we had suffered heavily, and they had also suffered; that war was an evil which wise men avoided; that if they came with two canoes with their chiefs, two canoes with our chiefs should meet them in mid-stream, and make blood-brotherhood; and that on that condition some of their canoes should be restored, and we would purchase the rest.” The natives took time for the considering of this proposition, and then accepted it. “On the 22nd of December, the ceremony of blood-brotherhood having been formally concluded, in mid-river, between Safeni and the chief of Vinya-Njara,” continues Stanley, “our captive, and fifteen canoes, were returned, and twenty-three canoes were retained by us for a satisfactory equivalent; and thus our desperate struggle terminated.”[36]

      On the Livingstone, just below the Equator, in February, 1877, Stanley’s party was facing starvation, having been for some time “unable to purchase food, or indeed [to] approach a settlement for any amicable purpose.” The explorers came to look at “each other as fated victims of protracted famine, or [of] the rage of savages, like those of Mangala.” “We continued our journey,” goes on the record, “though grievously hungry, past Bwena and Inguba, doing our utmost to induce the staring fishermen to communicate with us; without any success. They became at once officiously busy with guns, and dangerously active. We arrived at Ikengo, and as we were almost despairing, we proceeded to a small island opposite this settlement, and prepared to encamp. Soon a canoe with seven men came dashing across, and we prepared our moneys for exhibition. They unhesitatingly advanced, and ran their canoe alongside of us. We were rapturously joyful, and returned them a most cordial welcome, as the act was a most auspicious sign of confidence. We were liberal, and the natives fearlessly accepted our presents; and from this giving of gifts we proceeded to seal this incipient friendship with our blood, with all due ceremony.”[37] And by this transfusion of blood, the starving were re-vivified, and the despairing were given hope.

      Twice, again, within a few weeks after this experience, there was a call on Stanley of blood for blood, in friendship’s compact. The people of Chumbiri welcomed the travelers. “They readily subscribed to all the requirements of friendship, blood-brotherhood, and an exchange of a few small gifts.”[38] Itsi, the king of Ntamo, with several of his elders and a showy escort, came out to meet Stanley; and there was a friendly greeting on both sides. “They then broached the subject of blood-brotherhood. We were willing,” says Stanley, “but they wished to defer the ceremony until they had first shown their friendly feelings to us.” Thereupon gifts were exchanged, and the king indicated his preference for a “big goat” of Stanley’s, as his benefaction—which, after some parleying, was transferred to him. Then came the covenant-rite. “The treaty with Itsi,” says Stanley, “was exceedingly ceremonious, and involved the exchange of charms. Itsi transferred to me for my protection through life, a small gourdful of a curious powder, which had rather a saline taste; and I delivered over to him, as the white man’s charm against all evil, a half-ounce vial of magnesia; further, a small scratch in Frank’s arm, and another in Itsi’s arm, supplied blood sufficient to unite us in one, and [by an] indivisible bond of fraternity.”[39]

      Four years after this experience of blood-covenanting, by proxy, with young Itsi, Stanley found himself again at Ntamo, or across the river from it; this time in the interest of the International Association of the Congo. Being short of food, he had sent out a party of foragers, and was waiting their return with interest. “During the absence of the food-hunters,” he says, “we heard the drums of Ntamo, and [we] followed with interested eyes the departure of two large canoes from the landing-place, their ascent to the place opposite, and their final crossing over towards us. Then we knew that Ngalyema of Ntamo had condescended to come and visit us. As soon as he arrived I recognized him as the Itsi with whom, in 1877, I had made blood-brotherhood [by proxy]. During the four years that had elapsed, he had become a great man. … He was now about thirty-four years old, of well-built form, proud in his bearing, covetous and grasping in disposition, and, like all other lawless barbarians, prone to be cruel and sanguinary whenever he might safely vent his evil humor. Superstition had found in him an apt and docile pupil, and fetishism held him as one of its most abject slaves. This was the man in whose hands the destinies of the Association Internationale du Congo were held, and upon whose graciousness