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

pagan, even while the blood-brother of a European Christian. Yet, the tie of blood-covenanting was the strongest tie known in Central Africa. Frank Pocock, whose covenant-blood flowed in Itsi’s veins, was dead;[40] yet for his sake his master, Stanley, was welcomed by Itsi as a brother; and in true Eastern fashion he was invited to prove anew his continuing faith by a fresh series of love-showing gifts. “My brother being the supreme lord of Ntamo, as well as the deepest-voiced and most arrogant rogue among the whole tribe,” says Stanley, “first demanded the two asses [which Stanley had with him], then a large mirror, which was succeeded by a splendid gold-embroidered coat, jewelry, glass clasps, long brass chains, a figured table-cloth, fifteen other pieces of fine cloth, and a japanned tin box with a ‘Chubb’ lock. Finally, gratified by such liberality, Ngalyema surrendered to me his sceptre, which consisted of a long staff, banded profusely with brass, and decorated with coils of brass wire, which was to be carried by me and shown to all men that I was the brother of Ngalyema [or, Itsi] of Ntamo!”[41] Some time after this, when trouble arose between Stanley and Ngalyema, the former suggested that perhaps it would be better to cancel their brotherhood. “ ‘No, no, no,’ cried Ngalyema, anxiously; ‘our brotherhood cannot be broken; our blood is now one.’ ” Yet at this time Stanley’s brotherhood with Ngalyema was only by the blood of his deceased retainer, Frank Pocock.

      More commonly, the rite of blood-friendship among the African tribes seems to be by the inter-transfusion of blood; but the ancient Syrian method is by no means unknown on that continent. Stanley tells of one crisis of hunger, among the cannibals of Rubunga, when the hostility of the natives on the river bank was averted by a shrewd display of proffered trinkets from the boats of the expedition. “We raised our anchor,” he says, “and with two strokes of the oars had run our boat ashore; and, snatching a string or two of cowries [or shell-money], I sprang on land, followed by the coxswain Uledi, and in a second I had seized the skinny hand of the old chief, and was pressing it hard for joy. Warm-hearted Uledi, who the moment before was breathing furious hate of all savages, and of the procrastinating old chief in particular, embraced him with a filial warmth. Young Saywa, and Murabo, and Shumari, prompt as tinder upon all occasions, grasped the lesser chiefs’ hands, and devoted themselves with smiles and jovial frank bearing to conquer the last remnants of savage sullenness, and succeeded so well that, in an incredible short time, the blood-brotherhood ceremony between the suddenly formed friends was solemnly entered into, and the irrevocable pact of peace and good will had been accomplished.”[42]

      Apparently unaware of the method of the ancient Semitic rite, here found in a degraded form, Stanley seems surprised at the mutual tasting of blood between the contracting friends, in this instance. He says: “Blood-brotherhood was a beastly cannibalistic ceremony with these people, yet much sought after—whether for the satisfaction of their thirst for blood, or that it involved an interchange of gifts, of which they must needs reap the most benefit. After an incision was made in each arm, both brothers bent their heads, and the aborigine was observed to suck with the greatest fervor; whether for love of blood or excess of friendship, it would be difficult to say.”[43]

      During his latest visit to Africa, in the Congo region, Stanley had many another occasion to enter into the covenant of blood with native chiefs, or to rest on that covenant as before consummated. His every description of the rite itself has its value, as illustrating the varying forms and the essential unity of the ceremony of blood-covenanting, the world over.

      A reference has already been made[44] to Stanley’s meeting, on this expedition, with Ngalyema, who, under the name of Itsi, had entered into blood-brotherhood with Frank Pocock, four years before. That brotherhood by proxy had several severe strains, in the progress of negotiations between Stanley and Ngalyema; and after some eight months of these varying experiences, it was urgently pressed on Stanley by the chiefs of Kintamo (which is another name for Ntamo), that he should personally covenant by blood with Ngalyema, and so put an end to all danger of conflict between them. To this Stanley assented, and the record of the transaction is given accordingly, under date of April 9, 1882: “Brotherhood with Ngalyema was performed. We crossed arms; an incision was made in each arm; some salt was placed on the wound, and then a mutual rubbing took place, while the great fetish man of Kintamo pronounced an inconceivable number of curses on my head if ever I proved false. Susi [Livingstone’s head man, now with Stanley], not to be outdone by him, solicited the gods to visit unheard-of atrocious vengeances on Ngalyema if he dared to make the slightest breach in the sacred brotherhood which made him and Bula Matari[45] one and indivisible for ever.”[46]

      In June, 1883, Stanley visited, by invitation, Mangombo, the chief of Irebu, on the Upper Congo, and became his blood-brother. Describing his landing at this “Venice of the Congo,” he says: “Mangombo, with a curious long staff, a fathom and a half in length, having a small spade of brass at one end, much resembling a baker’s cake-spade, stood in front. He was a man probably sixty years old, but active and by no means aged-looking, and he waited to greet me. … Generally the first day of acquaintance with the Congo river tribes is devoted to chatting, sounding one another’s principles, and getting at one another’s ideas. The chief entertains his guest with gifts of food, goats, beer, fish, &c.; then, on the next day, commences business and reciprocal exchange of gifts. So it was at Irebu. Mangombo gave four hairy thin-tailed sheep, ten glorious bunches of bananas, two great pots of beer, and the usual accompaniments of small stores. The next day we made blood-brotherhood. The fetish-man pricked each of our right arms, pressed the blood out; then, with a pinch of scrapings from my gun stock, a little salt, a few dusty scrapings from a long pod, dropped over the wounded arms, … the black and white arms were mutually rubbed together [for the inter-transfusion of the flowing blood]. The fetish-man took the long pod in his hand, and slightly touched our necks, our heads, our arms, and our legs, muttering rapidly his litany of incantations. What was left of the medicine Mangombo and I carefully folded in a banana leaf [Was this the ‘house of the amulet?’[47]], and we bore it reverently between us to a banana grove close by, and buried the dust out of sight. Mangombo, now my brother, by solemn interchange of blood—consecrated to my service, as I was devoted in the sacred fetish bond to his service—revealed his trouble, and implored my aid.”[48]

      Yet again, Stanley “made friendship” with the Bakuti, at Wangata, “after the customary forms of blood-brotherhood”;[49] similarly with two chiefs, Iuka and Mungawa, at Lukolela;[50] with Miyongo of Usindi;[51] and with the chiefs of Bolombo;[52] of Yambinga,[53] of Mokulu,[54] of Irungu,[55] of Upoto,[56] of Uranga;[57] and so all along his course of travel. One of the fullest and most picturesque of his descriptions of this rite, is in connection with its observance with a son of the great chief of the Bangala, at Iboko; and the main details of that description are worthy of reproduction here.

      The Bangala, or “the Ashantees of the Livingstone River,” as Stanley characterizes them, are a strong and a superior people, and they fought fiercely against Stanley, when he was passing their country in 1877.[58] “The senior chief, Mata Bwyki (lord of many guns), was [now, in October, 1883,] an old grey-haired man,” says Stanley, “of Herculean stature and breadth of shoulder, with a large square face, and an altogether massive head, out of which his solitary eye seemed to glare with penetrative power. I should judge him to be six feet, two inches, in height. He had a strong, sonorous voice, which, when lifted to speak to his tribe, was heard clearly several hundred yards off. He was now probably between seventy-five and eighty years old. … He was not the tallest man, nor the best looking, nor the sweetest-dispositioned man, I had met in all Africa; but if the completeness and perfection of the human figure, combining size with strength, and proportion of body, limbs, and head, with an expression of power in the face, be considered, he must have been at one time the grandest type of physical manhood to be found in Equatorial Africa. As he stood before us on this day, we thought of him as an ancient Milo, an aged Hercules, an old Samson—a really grand looking old man. At his side were seven tall sons, by different mothers, and although they were stalwart men and boys, the whitened crown of Mata Bwyki’s head rose by a couple of inches above the highest head.”

      Nearly two thousand persons assembled, at Iboko, to witness the “palaver” that must precede a decision to enter into “strong friendship.” At the place of meeting, “mats of split rattan were spread in a large semicircle around a row of curved and box stools, for the principal chiefs. In the centre