In speaking of Native Character we begin with the Physical side. The features, despite thick lips and flat noses, are by no means unpleasant. The forehead is well formed. At first all black faces seemed alike, but this was because the blackness was then strange to us, and not because the faces wanted variety: after returning from a long stay among negroes, we felt the same difficulty in distinguishing white faces.

Their figures are tall and graceful. Some of the men are six feet high, while few can be called little. The women, owing to their out-door work, are strikingly tall and strong. After becoming accustomed to their “want of dress,” one feels that natives are seen to most advantage in their own costume. They don’t look well in garments of the ordinary coat-and-trousers description,—coloured shirts, or even white shirts with red borders suit better.

Their powers of endurance are very great. Men and women will carry sixty pounds on the head, and walk at a brisk pace for two days’ journey of forty miles. As they march thus under a burning sun, their whole body is covered with beads of perspiration, yet they do not succumb. In estimating the value of certain Roman Generals, Livy was careful to note, that they had the power of enduring hunger for a long time. The Yao would have merited his praise, for they possess this power in an extraordinary degree. They will march for days without any “ostensible” means of keeping themselves alive. On occasions when we misjudged distances, and were obliged to pass about 20 hours (mostly of great exertion) without food, our anxiety about our companions, was met by the polite assurance that “they had eaten”. They even contrived to turn the sympathy the other way by saying, “We are used to hunger, but the white man will faint”. The white man might endure hunger nearly as long, but the native has this advantage—when food comes he has an enormous capacity for quantity, he is a “dreadful eater,” while the white man can scarcely taste a morsel. The natives can also endure the burning thirst of this land. On a long day’s march, they pass all the streams in the morning without drinking: it is not till three or four o’clock in the afternoon that they become thirsty. But the white man may drink by the end of the first hour, and then he becomes “demoralised” for the day. As he continues the hot march his thirst increases but he cannot quench it. He arrives at a clear rippling brook, hastily puts a stone under his knees—a drinking jug is a mockery now, he must get at the stream itself—still he is never quite satisfied. He craves the drinking for its own sake. After imbibing a great quantity of water, he is grieved that he cannot go on drinking more, and no sooner has he left one stream than he begins to long for another. The unpleasant craving continues till the sun begins to sink in the west. He may avoid the torture by abstaining from drinking at first, only to exercise this self-denial, it is almost imperative to shut the eyes when passing a stream! Some natives suffer in the same way, but they are chiefly boys.

When much exhausted the natives light a pipe, each takes one or two whiffs and passes it on to his neighbour. In a few minutes all are inspired with fresh energy. In work that they do not like, they very soon complain of fatigue, but in other cases, even when asked to rest, they redouble their energies, while they make the whole welkin ring with some wild song. They are never so tired that the sight of game does not rouse them to every energy necessary for pursuit.

The natives are vegetarians not of choice, but of necessity. Few can procure much flesh, and they avoid milk and eggs on superstitious grounds. They are, therefore, in the opinion of some, deficient in muscle. They certainly do not excel in doing work that requires a dead strain, but this is due to want of practice—they are not used to such work. At their own homes they never require to raise heavy stones or weights, and their naked legs and arms are out of keeping with the task. Constant exposure of their bodies to the elements, renders them very hardy. This feature in the African has almost become proverbial. “From constant usage, the soles of his feet are defended by a thickened skin as insensible as the sole of any boot. He will walk with uncommon unconcern over sharp stones and thorns, which would lame a European at the first step.”

Mr. Wood remarks that, “Their state of health enables them to survive injuries which would be almost instantly fatal to an ordinary civilised European,” and mentions a wonderful case of two young girls that were removed from a heap of corpses. “One had received 19 stabs with the assegai, and the other 21. They survived their dreadful wounds, reaching womanhood, though both crippled for life.” “The dreaded ‘stick’ of the Orientals, would lose its terrors to a Kaffir, who would endure the bastinado with comparative impunity.” The same writer speaks of a Hottentot wagon-driver who fell under the wheels of his wagon. One of the fore-wheels passed over his neck, and as the wagon was loaded with some two tons of firewood, it might be supposed he was killed on the spot. He was not only alive, but had the presence of mind to roll out of the way of the hind wheel. In answer to anxious inquiries, he said he was not much hurt, except by some small stones which had been forced into his skin, and which he asked a gentleman to remove. In Africa we often saw instances of endurance, which would make us exclaim with Buffon, that civilised man does not know his own powers.

Judged by a European standard, these natives would not be commended for cleanliness. Their habit of smearing the body with oil or grease, is very repugnant. When a boy was cooking our dinner, he delighted to put his fingers into the fat and smear his whole body. “Kafirs,” says Mr. Wood, “are charming savages, but it is always as well to keep to the windward of them, at all events, until the nostrils have become accustomed to their odour.” Judged by an African standard, this habit would be highly approved; for a European when obliged to dress like a native, feels the necessity for his grease!

As they lie about on the ground their bodies and scanty dresses become very dirty. In some districts they bathe a great deal. Our pupils at Zomba availed themselves of the beautiful stream daily. Bathing in the morning is avoided; the streams are then cold, especially on the hills. But when a traveller rests by a brook at mid-day his native companions generally bathe.

Passing now to the Moral side of their character I shall first point to their great want of truthfulness. “Telling lies” is much practised and is seldom considered a fault. The way in which it comes before the European is like this. He enters the country with half-a-dozen bath-towels expecting them to last for a long time. In a few weeks the majority of them have disappeared. He then begins to open his eyes, and in a short time he sees his “boy” making off with the last of them. I have been much amused at the earnestness with which the new-comer will exclaim: “I actually saw him take it and found it in his hands, and yet he denied”! In such cases the denial of the native is made all the stronger. What is wanting in probability must be supplied by boldness. The negro often thinks that he is flattered by being accused of falsehood. So, when natives wish to pay a high compliment to a European who has told them an interesting story, they look into his face and say “O father, you are a great liar!”

Avarice is strong in these people, and prompts to much cheating. A native comes to the Mission store to sell eggs. When asked if they are fresh, as a matter of course he says they are. The storekeeper after trying them in water declines to buy, and the native calmly retires. He has been outwitted on this occasion and that is all, he hopes to play a better game next. He carries his eggs home, and carefully lays them past. A few weeks after, learning that this storekeeper is absent, he forthwith takes his eggs, hastens to the new storekeeper, declares that they are fresh, and succeeds in selling! In making a bargain the native has but one principle, he tries to get as much as he can. As avarice and selfishness are often too strong for the civilised man, we must not expect too much from the savage. Still, the natives have many motives against a wretched greed. The teaching at their Mysteries condemns the wretch who “concentres all on self”. Again, the members of a community have their meals in common, and when a stranger arrives at a village he is treated with the greatest hospitality. One night I came upon a village at the side of a wood, just as its two male inhabitants were beginning their evening meal. I was accompanied by twelve boys, two of whom were close by me, and at once received an invitation to supper. I expected that the men would be much puzzled when they found out the real number of their guests. But no. As soon as the other ten boys came out of the wood, they invited them likewise, gladly giving up their own meal to my party. Knowing that the hungry men would have to wait till more food could be cooked, I could not but admire their strict adherence to native custom under such difficulty. It would have demoralised them to offer payment, but I quietly sought an opportunity of meeting their daughters and presenting them with a quantity of beads. Still, it may be doubted whether the natives on the whole are more generous than Europeans. Their insecurity makes them lazy, their laziness makes them poor, they have little to give, and expect a large return for a small present. In our first contact with the Portuguese after emerging from the atmosphere of the native kings, we were received with great hospitality, and, having been so long used to the natives, I became concerned about repaying the kindness, when one of our party said, “Why, you are among Christians now, don’t think you are dealing with some old chief who gives for the purpose of getting”.

Any novelty has a great attraction, though the emotion of fear sometimes overpowers that of wonder. A white man, sitting quietly after his day’s march with a crowd of people round him, proceeds to light his candle. In a few moments there is a terrible stampede. Shrieks of terror drown the laughter of the traveller’s native retinue. What can it mean? Why, he has struck a match! As soon, however, as the first scare is over, the crowd increases and comes nearer. When satisfied that there is no danger, the old men ask to see more of the wonderful little fire-stick; and by and by, all admire it so much that if the traveller were to listen to their entreaties, he would sit lighting matches all night. When the Missionaries first came into the country, the revolver produced a profound impression; it was looked upon as a supernatural weapon, the idea being that its possessor could fire without ever requiring to reload. Certain powerful chiefs near Nyassa, on being shown some revolver practice, at once put their hands to their throats and said to the Missionaries, “You are the kings of this country”. Such an impression as this, gives the Missionary a breathing time till the natives become acquainted with him. If they thought him quite defenceless many would kill him at once, especially if he had any goods. But apart from revolvers, the very appearance of a white man at first inspires the native with fear. Nor is this strange, for if a black man had shown himself in any quiet English hamlet before its inhabitants knew that negroes existed, there would have been a terrible scare. So, when a white man appears in an African village, natives that are unfamiliar with such specimens of humanity take to their heels! But gradually their fears subside, and they come to look at the man. They examine his long hair, his hat, his umbrella, his boots and his stockings, and when he goes away they follow him, and he can see that they will soon become his friends. The children are particularly drawn to the stranger: while those who rank highest as sorcerers are most influenced by superstitious fear.

The emotions of tenderness and sympathy are strong among some, while others are as callous as can be conceived. But few of them would say with Hobbes, that “pity is a weakness, and that the best men have least of it,” for on one occasion, where a mourner produced a copious supply of tears by taking snuff, the others administered a grave rebuke, telling him that, “his was no true sorrow”. Usually their grief for their friends is intense. In this respect (as throughout the whole emotional side of their nature), they resemble children. They are easily impressed, but they do not keep grief longer than grief keeps them.

The humorous side of a subject has great attractions for the natives. In cases where there is any disposition to quarrel, one joke is worth ten arguments. They are always polite enough to laugh at the Englishman’s jokes, especially if he speak with a half serious air. In any discussion, it is the humorous side that they most appreciate. In the course of a conversation with Kapeni and his people, about the custom of killing slaves to accompany the dead, after trying the arguments that most readily suggest themselves, I pointed out that the slaves were big powerful men, while the deceased was very weak, and that if a quarrel took place beyond the grave, the deceased would have no chance against them. They laughed immoderately at this, and when reporting the discussion to their friends, they dwelt chiefly on the idea that slaves would be as good as their master “on the other side of the grave,” and might avenge their death. In conversation with each other they have a great capacity for presenting the laughable side of events. It often happens that a stranger regards the natives as beings to be patronised and amused by; so much does he consider himself superior to them. Now as might almost be expected, they view the new-comer in the very same light! Most of them humour him and allow him to treat them as children, but all the same, they amuse themselves at his expense after he is gone, and, indeed, while he is present, if they know that he cannot understand their speech. They are careful not to laugh if there be any danger of giving offence. Once at the close of an open air meeting, an Englishman happened to get up on the trunk of a large tree, which one often sees used for a seat in the native villages. The log revolved, and the man fell heavily on the ground. Yet the whole meeting looked as grave as if the accident had been part of the programme.

Their anger though sometimes violent, soon exhausts itself: but where the passion cannot be readily gratified, it may settle into a lasting enmity. Many people, especially headmen, will not visit a village two miles distant on any account; rather than pass through it, they will fetch a wide circuit, and that although their children and dependents visit the place quite freely. The negroes are very cruel, and sometimes take a positive delight in inflicting the greatest tortures they can devise. They reserve much of this for enemies from whom they would expect the same treatment themselves.

Of their Intellectual powers I venture to speak very highly. I knew a number of boys that came to school at the ages of from twelve to fifteen, without knowing a single letter, and in six weeks, they could, after a little consideration, read any word in their language. This they accomplished without any unnatural cramming. There were many school children whose progress I watched with great interest, and who, I am certain, if they had enjoyed the usual training, could have taken no mean place among the Cambridge Wranglers.

The natives possess great powers of argument. Though some are swayed by feeling and admit irrelevant matter, others stick well to their subject, and soon pull up a debater that changes his ground. In public speeches they use a style more elaborate than in ordinary conversation. Many English speeches are so different from ordinary talk, that to one who only knows English conversationally, they seem to be in another language. So native speeches may be greatly polished, and lose much of the bluntness of conversation. Public speaking is much practised, as an important meeting may last for days. Many of the speakers have a tone of quietness and self-possession that any orator might envy; others believe in loud words and bold gestures. An excited native orator presents an appearance never to be forgotten. I have one before my mind just now. He stands near an ant-hill, and at the close of each stirring sentence, he makes a wild rush to the top. “Are we all to be killed,” he cries, “by Chekakamila?” Having said this, he runs up the hillock. Coming back he confronts his audience and resumes at the pitch of his voice, “Is he to come and catch our wives and children? We’ll go and kill him! We’ll go and eat him!” The orator again runs up the ant-hill. He continues in the same strain till his hearers also begin to rush about and brandish their weapons in frantic excitement.

Natives have the bump of locality. I once lost my way when about nine miles distant from any dwelling. I was accompanied by a little boy, who followed wherever I led. After wandering for some time, I sat down in despair, unable to tell the direction I wanted. I asked the boy whether he knew the way, and to my great surprise he said he did. Advancing to a small knoll, the little fellow caught a glimpse of a distant mountain. He looked at it carefully for a few moments, and then marched off with confidence. For more than an hour I followed in great anxiety, fearing that he might be in the wrong direction. But whenever we escaped from the denser parts of the jungle, he stopped to gaze intently at some hill. This gave me confidence, and when at last I found myself on a native path, I could not sufficiently admire my youthful guide.

We often hear the expression “I don’t believe in a nigger”. It is common to assert that negroes have no redeeming quality. But much of this severe criticism springs from prejudice. The African is physically superior to most of the Indians that we see along the Mozambique coast, and I am materialist enough to hazard the opinion that this superiority will “mean something” in the long run. As it is, these Africans are not mere animals composed of greed and selfishness. They often shew great bravery and devotedness. I can point to one man who saved my life on three separate occasions at the risk of his own. Every one that tries to understand these negroes, will acknowledge that the better natives have in their breasts all the qualities that constitute the hero, and only want favourable circumstances for their development. But this is a great want. No doubt there are in Africa, natural differences both among individuals and among tribes. Mr. Rowley says, “Compare an ordinary Yao with an ordinary Anyasa, and the former is at once seen to be physically superior”. “A phrenologist would say, that firmness and self-esteem predominated, but that caution which prevails to a deformity among the Anyasa was barely evidenced.” The difference between the Yao of the hills, and the Anyasa of the plains is so very great, that I could generally tell a man’s tribe by his appearance. But admitting natural differences to the fullest extent, we cannot ignore the effect produced on the natives by their circumstances and customs. The institution of slavery is demoralising in the extreme. The master is a cruel tyrant, the slave is a thief, a liar, and a miserable coward. The government of the country has also a deplorable influence. Where it is weak, it gives the people no protection, where it is strong, it preys upon them. There is nothing to keep the headman of a village from robbing his people, and many a bitter complaint have I heard on the subject. Speke has some instructive observations on the African. “He works his wife, sells his children, enslaves all he can lay hands on, and, unless when fighting for the property of others, contents himself with drinking, singing, and dancing. They store up nothing beyond the necessities of next season, lest their chiefs or neighbours should covet and take it from them.” He adds, “If some government could be formed for them, like ours in India, they would be saved, but without it, I fear there is little chance. For at present the African can neither help himself, nor be helped by others, because his country is in such a constant state of turmoil.” Owing to the unsettled state of their land, they are victims of fear. The men never go unarmed, the women and children never venture far from home without a guard. A great proportion of their villages are built far up the mountains, for security against their neighbours. Hobbes says that men are naturally distrustful of their fellows—witness the barring of doors at night. Such distrust is greater here, and well it may. It is not that they fear for their property; that is too small to deserve anxiety! They fear for dear life—though they lie down quietly at night, they may awake to receive a mortal wound, and see their wives and children carried into slavery. One in this country finds a meaning in prayers for protection, that he does not realise in a civilised land. These circumstances of the native develop also a peculiar kind of patience and servility. He looks on injustice and hard treatment as something to be expected at every step.

Superstition also has a dismal influence. Throughout his whole life the native is haunted by the dread of being bewitched. As he grows older the shadows become darker—he has now escaped “the evil eye” so long, that he is judged guilty of witchcraft himself, and the few last days of his life are made unspeakably bitter. What a dreadful cry comes from the old men or women that are convicted by the witch-detective! Forsaken by friends, disowned by relatives; and detested by the whole community, they appeal with confidence to the poison. Oh! how must the iron fetters of superstition crush the very soul, when the victim finds recovery hopeless, and knows that in a few hours his dishonoured body will be cast forth to the vultures, and that his name will go down to posterity covered with infamy.

The musical tastes of the natives may here be alluded to. Many villages have in the forum a large piano with wooden keys, while men often carry a smaller instrument with iron keys. The native musical scale is not the same as ours, and although there is a certain method about the instruments, it is rare to find two of them tuned exactly the same way.

Other traits of native character will appear when we describe our life among them.

As a Missionary with the Bible in his hand looks on the natives, he seriously ponders how the truth can, humanly speaking, be most readily commended to them. His first aim must be to reach their intellects. They stand before him as a people that are entirely unbelievers, and who cannot be blamed for being so. How shall they believe without a preacher? It is well when they state plainly that they disbelieve and point out their reasons, but alas! they often assent to everything from mere politeness. Still, they are well able to appreciate the narrative parts of the Scriptures. Persons fond of doctrine in its purest form think that the tales of Joseph and his brethren, of Saul and David, are so much packing in the sacred volume, but on coming into contact with the strong unsophisticated intellect of the savage, one becomes alive to the sublimity and power of this part of Scripture. These natives readily understand the Old Testament; familiar as they are with a state of civilisation, where a “younger brother” may be sold like Joseph, where a chief (like Saul) hunts a rival among mountains and caves, and where a headman thinks nothing of dividing a child to settle a dispute. A person in Britain thinks it almost incredible that a king could break promises like Pharoah; but to the subjects of an African chief, the narrative of this is the merest commonplace, while they feel that such falsehood in the prince would rather call forth the applause of his people so long as it seemed to be in their interest. Our pupils had often to write about these Scripture subjects in their own words. When they wrote on English affairs their remarks were extremely ludicrous; but by reading their Bible themes I have benefited as much as by studying a commentary. Again, they can understand and appreciate parables. They are all familiar with this species of literature, since many of their own tales have double meanings. The natives of course hold no theory of the universe that excludes miracles. In their own tales they have the miraculous and look for some teaching in connection with it, a habit which they may be taught to carry with them in using the Scripture records. In my first effort at translating Jonah, my little tutor thought there was some mistake and changed my proposed version. He felt it would be more natural for Jonah to “swallow the fish”. But it was a “great fish!” Still the same answer came. “No, a very great fish like a crocodile.” The dark countenance turned fully round upon me, and the sharp eyes regarded me with a strange quiet stare. He approved of my original rendering, and wondered what I would venture on next. Perhaps he thought I was “far gone” or perhaps I had come near something he had heard before. They have themselves a story of a man that was caught by a crocodile and effected his escape while laid past till the crocodile should be hungry. Their literature also contains some stories regarding the division of the waters of a river or lake, while one tale would pass for an account of Jethro’s interview with Moses.

The Africans have a liking for ontological speculation. Being ill one day, I asked one of our best students to speak to the people, when, to my utter disappointment, he dashed into an explanation of “three persons in one God”; but what surprised me most of all was that the people listened to him with the greatest attention. I felt that there was here the working, of a mode of thought that the Western mind has seldom sympathised with. The discussion seemed to have such a practical interest to them that I could not but think of the butchers of Alexandria, who, during the early Church controversy, when asked the price of mutton, would make some remark about Trinity in Unity. Little did the lecturer know what an amount of thought had been bestowed on this subject, and yet he showed he had been thinking himself, for every statement he made had evidently passed through the crucible of his own mind.

Our older pupils formed the habit of asking me about everything in the Bible that they did not understand, and I have watched them with breathless interest as they read passages bearing on “Free-Will”. But they were never “pulled up” by this subject, although I fancied that one boy came very near the difficulty. They would doubtless hold that God could foresee, much as a wise man can. It was a subject where to them “ignorance was bliss,” and I could not be so cruel as to suggest the difficulties that encompass this antinomy (as Kant calls it). Still, it might not have been such a puzzle to these young lads, as they had not lived in a country where will is evoked in a struggle with the elements. Again, where the vast majority are entirely at the disposal of guardians or slave-masters, a species of resigned fatalism is apt to be developed. Once when translating the sermon on the mount, “Be not anxious for to-morrow; sufficient for the day is the evil thereof,” I was admonished, “Don’t tell them that; their sin lies the opposite way. They never think of to-morrow at all!” Such is the fact, these creatures of God have little or no anxiety. Like the bird of the air and the beast of the forest, they “believe and live”.

END OF VOL. I.