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PRIMARY SOURCE ASSIGNMENTS
READ AND ANSWER THE QUESTIONS IN THE ARTICLES
Primary Source 1.
STANLEY FINDS LIVINGSTONE
1871
Henry M. Stanley
Throughout the 19th century, Europeans explored the interior of Africa, seeking
to open the continent to European trade. David Livingstone, a Scottish missionary
and explorer, conducted numerous trips to the African interior. In 1866, on one of
Livingstone’s expeditions, some of his followers deserted him and then spread the
rumor that he had died. Five years later, the New York Herald sent reporter Henry
M. Stanley to Africa to find Livingstone.
T H I N K T H R O U G H H I S T O RY: Summarizing
What are Stanley’s emotions as he approaches the village where Livingstone may be?
A couple of hours brought us to the base of a hill, from the top of which the
Kirangozi said we could obtain a view of the great Tanganyika Lake. Heedless of
a rough path or of the toilsome steep, spurred onward by the cheery promise, the
ascent was performed in a short time. I was pleased at the sight; and, as we
descended, it opened more and more into view until it was revealed at last as a
grand inland sea, bounded westward by an appalling and black-blue range of
mountains, and stretching north and south without bounds, a grey expanse of
water.
From the western base of the hill was a three hours’ march, though no march
ever passed off so quickly. The hours seemed to have been quarters, we had seen
so much that was novel and rare to us who had been travelling so long on the
highlands. The mountains bounding the lake on the eastward receded and the lake
advanced. We had crossed the Ruche, or Linche, and its thick belt of tall matted
grass. We had plunged into a perfect forest of them and had entered into the cultivated
fields which supply the port of Ujiji with vegetables, etc., and we stood at
last on the summit of the last hill of the myriads we had crossed, and the port of
Ujiji, embowered in palms, with the tiny waves of the silver waters of the
Tanganyika rolling at its feet, was directly below us.
We are now about descending—in a few minutes we shall have reached the spot
where we imagine the object of our search—our fate will soon be decided. No one
in that town knows we are coming; least of all do they know we are so close to
them. If any of them ever heard of the white man at Unyanyembe they must
believe we are there yet . . .
Well, we are but a mile from Ujiji now, and it is high time we should let them
know a caravan is coming; so “Commence firing” is the word passed along the
length of the column, and gladly do they begin. They have loaded their muskets
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half full, and they roar like the broadside of a line-of-battle ship. Down go the
ramrods, sending huge charges home to the breech, and volley after volley is fired.
The flags are fluttered; the banner of America is in front, waving joyfully; the
guide is in the zenith of his glory. The former residents of Zanzita will know it
directly and will wonder—as well they may—as to what it means. Never were the
Stars and Stripes so beautiful to my mind—the breeze of the Tanganyika has such
an effect on them. The guide blows his horn, and the shrill, wild clangour of it is
far and near; and still the cannon muskets tell the noisy seconds. By this time the
Arabs are fully alarmed; the natives of Ujiji, Waguha, Warundi, Wanguana, and I
know not whom hurry up by the hundreds to ask what it all means—this fusillading,
shouting, and blowing of horns and flag flying. There are Yambos shouted out
to me by the dozen, and delighted Arabs have run up breathlessly to shake my
hand and ask anxiously where I come from. But I have no patience with them.
The expedition goes far too slow. I should like to settle the vexed question by one
personal view. Where is he? Has he fled?
Suddenly a man—a black man—at my elbow shouts in English, “How do you
do, sir?”
“Hello, who the deuce are you?”
“I am the servant of Dr. Livingstone,” he says; and before I can ask any more
questions he is running like a madman towards the town.
We have at last entered the town. There are hundreds of people around me—I
might say thousands without exaggeration, it seems to me. It is a grand triumphal
procession. As we move, they move. All eyes are drawn towards us. The expedition
at last comes to a halt; the journey is ended for a time; but I alone have a few
more steps to make.
There is a group of the most respectable Arabs, and as I come nearer I see the
white face of an old man among them. He has a cap with a gold band around it,
his dress is a short jacket of red blanket cloth, and his pants—well, I didn’t
observe. I am shaking hands with him. We raise our hats, and I say:
“Dr. Livingstone, I presume?”
And he says, “Yes.”
Source: Excerpt from New York Herald, August 10, 1872.
Stanley Finds Livingstone
World History: Patterns of Interaction © McDougal Littell Inc.
Primary Source 2.
PRIVATE COMPANY RULE
IN THE CONGO
1903
A. E. Scrivener
By the late 1800s, European countries were competing to get at the great riches of
Africa’s natural resources. In 1882, Belgian King Leopold II founded a company
called the International Association of the Congo. Its goal was to exploit the rubber
and mineral lands along the Congo River. The company controllers forced the
native population to do the work. European missionaries who went to the Congo
to teach Christianity were appalled by the company’s activities. The following
journal entry by the missionary A. E. Scrivener describes the brutality that the
Africans faced at the hands of the company owners.
T H I N K T H R O U G H H I S T O RY: Recognizing Effects
What effects did the practices of the company owners have on the people of the
Congo?
Everything was on a military basis, but so far as I could see, the one and only
reason for it all was rubber. It was the theme of every conversation, and it was evident
that the only way to please one’s superiors was to increase the output somehow.
I saw a few men come in, and the frightened look even now on their faces
tells only too eloquently of the awful time they have passed through. As I saw it
brought in, each man had a little basket, containing say, four or five pounds of rubber.
This was emptied into a larger basket and weighed, and being found sufficient,
each man was given a cupful of coarse salt, and to some of the headmen a fathom
of calico. . . . I heard from the white men and some of the soldiers some most gruesome
stories. The former white man (I feel ashamed of my colour every time I
think of him) would stand at the door of the store to receive the rubber from the
poor trembling wretches, who after, in some cases, weeks of privation in the
forests, had ventured in with what they had been able to collect. A man bringing
rather under the proper amount, the white man flies into a rage, and seizing a rifle
from one of the guards, shoots him dead on the spot. Very rarely did rubber come
in, but one or more were shot in that way at the door of the store “to make the
survivors bring more next time.” Men who had tried to run from the country and
had been caught, were brought to the station and made to stand one behind the
other, and an Albini bullet sent through them. “A pity to waste cartridges on such
wretches.” On ——— removing from the station, his successor almost fainted on
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attempting to enter the station prison, in which were numbers of poor wretches so
reduced by starvation and the awful stench from weeks of accumulation of filth,
that they were not able to stand. Some of the stories are unprintable. . . . Under the
present régime a list is kept of all the people. Every town is known and visited at
stated intervals. Those stationed near the posts are required to do the various tasks,
such as the bringing in of timber and other material. A little payment is made, but
that it is in any respect an equivalent it would be absurd to suppose. The people
are regarded as the property of the State for any purpose for which they may be
needed. That they have any desires of their own, or any plans worth carrying out
in connection with their own lives, would create a smile among the officials. It is
one continual grind, and the native intercourse between one district and another in
the old style is practically non-existent. Only the roads to and fro from the various
posts are kept open, and large tracts of country are abandoned to the wild beasts.
The white man himself told me that you could walk on for five days in one direction,
and not see a single village or a single human being. And this where formerly
there was a big tribe! . . . From thence on to the Lake we found the road more and
more swampy. Leaving Mbongo on Saturday (29th) we passed through miles of
deserted villages, and saw at varying distances many signs of the former inhabitants.
. . . Leaving the plain, we . . . followed for three-quarters of an hour the
course of a fast-flowing, swollen stream. Then for half an hour through some
deserted gardens and amongst the ruins of a number of villages, then a sharp turn
to the left through another low-lying bit of grassland. . . .
[In due course Mr. Scrivener arrived at Ngongo, where the surviving relatives of
the refugees whom Mr. Scrivener had brought with him, as already mentioned,
met after their long parting:]
As one by one the surviving relatives of my men arrived, some affecting scenes
were enacted. There was no falling on necks and weeping, but very genuine joy was
shown and tears were shed as the losses death had made were told. How they
shook hands and snapped their fingers! What expressions of surprise—the wideopened
mouth covered with the open hand to make its evidence of wonder the
more apparent. . . . So far as the State post was concerned, it was in a very dilapidated
condition. . . . On three sides of the usual huge quadrangle there were abundant
signs of a former population, but we only found three villages—bigger indeed
than any we had seen before, but sadly diminished from what had been but
recently the condition of the place. . . . Soon we began talking, and, without any
encouragement on my part, they began the tales I had become so accustomed to.
They were living in peace and quietness when the white men came in from the
Lake with all sorts of requests to do this and to do that, and they thought it meant
slavery. So they attempted to keep the white men out of their country, but without
avail. The rifles were too much for them. So they submitted, and made up their
minds to do the best they could under the altered circumstances. First came the
command to build houses for the soldiers, and this was done without a murmur.
from Private Company Rule in the Congo
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Then they had to feed the soldiers, and all the men and women—hangers-on who
accompanied them. Then they were told to bring in rubber. This was quite a new
thing for them to do. There was rubber in the forest several days away from their
home, but that it was worth anything was news to them. A small reward was
offered, and a rush was made for the rubber; “What strange white men to give us
cloth and beads for the sap of a wild vine.” They rejoiced in what they thought
was their good fortune. But soon the reward was reduced until they were told to
bring in the rubber for nothing. To this they tried to demur, but to their great surprise
several were shot by the soldiers, and the rest were told, with many curses
and blows, to go at once or more would be killed. Terrified, they began to prepare
their food for the fortnight’s absence from the village, which the collection of the
rubber entailed. The soldiers discovered them sitting about. “What, not gone yet!”
Bang! bang! bang! And down fell one and another dead, in the midst of wives and
companions. There is a terrible wail, and an attempt made to prepare the dead for
burial, but this is not allowed. All must go at once to the forest. And off the poor
wretches had to go without even their tinder-boxes to make fires. Many died in the
forests from exposure and hunger, and still more from the rifles of the ferocious
soldiers in charge of the post. In spite of all their efforts, the amount fell off, and
more and more were killed. . . . I was shown round the place, and the sites of former
big chiefs’ settlements were pointed out. A careful estimate made the population
of, say, seven years ago, to be 2,000 people in and about the post, within the
radius of, say, a quarter of a mile. All told they would not muster 200 now, and
there is so much sadness and gloom that they are fast decreasing. . . . Lying about
in the grass, within a few yards of the house I was occupying, were numbers of
human bones, in some cases complete skeletons. I counted thirty-six skulls, and
saw many sets of bones from which the skulls were missing. I called one of the
men, and asked the meaning of it. “When the rubber palaver began,” said he, “the
soldiers shot so many we grew tired of burying, and very often we were not
allowed to bury, and so just dragged the bodies out into the grass and left them.
There are hundreds all round if you would like to see them.” But I had seen more
than enough, and was sickened by the stories that came from men and women
alike of the awful time they had passed through. The Bulgarian atrocities might be
considered as mildness itself when compared with what has been done here. . . . In
due course we reached Ibali. There was hardly a sound building in the place. . . .
Why such dilapidation? The Commandant away for a trip likely to extend into
three months, the sub-lieutenant away in another direction on a punitive expedition.
In other words, station must be neglected and rubber-hunting carried out with
all vigour. I stayed here two days, and the one thing that impressed itself upon me
was the collection of rubber. I saw long files of men come as at Mbongo with their
little baskets under their arms, saw them paid their milk-tin-full of salt, and the
two yards of calico flung to the head men; saw their trembling timidity, and in fact
a great deal more, to prove the state of terrorism that exists, and the virtual slavery
from Private Company Rule in the Congo
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in which the people are held. . . . So much for the journey to the Lake. It has
enlarged my knowledge of the country, and also, alas! my knowledge of the awful
deeds enacted in the mad haste of men to get rich. So far as I know I am the first
white man to go into the Domaine privé of the King, other than the employés of
the State. I expect there will be wrath in some quarters, but that cannot be helped.
Source: Excerpt from King Leopold’s Rule in Africa (London: William
Heinemann, 1904), pp. 181–186.
from Private Company Rule in the Congo
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Primary Source 3
THE BOER WAR: THE SUFFERING
OF THE CIVILIAN POPULATION
1900
J. E. Neilly
The Boer War raged in South Africa from 1899 to 1902. It pitted British against
South Africans of Dutch descent (the Boers). The following account describes one
tragic episode in this war. From October 12, 1899, to May 17, 1900, the Boer
forces laid siege to the British-held town of Mafeking. The long siege caused mass
starvation among the villagers.
T H I N K T H R O U G H H I S T O RY: Clarifying
What are the author’s impressions of the people of Mafeking?
It was not pleasant to mix among the people of the kraals.1 Hunger had them
in its grip, and many of them were black spectres and living skeletons. I saw them
crawling along on legs like the stems of well-blackened ‘cutties’, with their ribs literally
breaking through their shrivelled skin—men, women, and children. I saw
them, too, fall down on the veldt and lie where they had fallen, too weak to go on
their way. The sufferers were mostly little boys—mere infants ranging in age from
four or five upwards. When the famine struck the place they were thrown out of
the huts by their parents to live or die, sink or swim . . .
When the Colonel got to know of the state of affairs he instituted soup
kitchens, where horses were boiled in huge cauldrons, and the savoury mess doled
out in pints and quarts to all comers. Some of the people—those employed on
works—paid for the food; the remainder, who were in the majority, obtained it
free. One of those kitchens was established in the Stadt, and I several times went
down there to see the unfortunates fed.
Words could not portray the scene of misery. The best thing I can do is to ask
you to fancy five or six hundred human frameworks of both sexes and all ages,
from the tender infant upwards, dressed in the remains of tattered rags, standing
in lines, each holding an old blackened can or beef tin, awaiting turn to crawl
painfully up to the kitchen where the food was distributed. Having obtained the
horse soup, fancy them tottering off a few yards and sitting down to wolf up the
life-fastening mess, and lick the tins when they had finished. It was one of the
most heart-rending sights I ever witnessed, and I have seen many . . .
When a flight of locusts came it was regarded as a godsend—this visitation that
is looked upon by the farmer as hardly less of a curse than the rinderpest or
drought. The starving ones gathered the insects up in thousands, stripped them of
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1. kraals: villages
their heads, legs, and wings, and ate the bodies. They picked up meat-tins and
licked them; they fed like outcast curs. They went farther than the mongrel. When
a dog gets a bone he polishes it white and leaves it there. Day after day I heard
outside my door continuous thumping sounds. They were caused by the living
skeletons who, having eaten all that was outside the bones, smashed them up with
stones and devoured what marrow they could find. They looked for bones on the
dust-heaps, on the roads everywhere, and I pledge my word that I saw one poor
fellow weakly follow a dog with a stone and with unerring aim strike him on the
ribs, which caused the lean and hungry brute to drop a bone, which the [black]
carried off in triumph to the curb, where he smashed it and got what comfort he
could from it.
Source: “Besieged with Baden-Powell” by J. E. Neilly, 1900.
The Boer War: The Suffering of the Civilian Population
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Primary Source 4.
AFRICA AT THE CENTER
1915
W.E.B. Du Bois
Throughout his life, W.E.B. Du Bois worked to improve the conditions of African
Americans. He viewed the struggle of African Americans as connected to the
struggles of black people throughout the world. He articulated Pan-Africanism, a
belief that African Americans shared common interests and experienced a common
oppression with all people of African descent. In the following selection,
Du Bois explains that Africa was at the center of many great crises in history,
including World War I.
T H I N K T H R O U G H H I S T O RY: Analyzing Causes
According to Du Bois, what caused World War I?
Nearly every human empire that has arisen in the world, material and spiritual,
has found some of its greatest crises on this continent of Africa, from Greece to
Great Britain. As [the German classical historian Theodor] Mommsen says, “It
was through Africa that Christianity became the religion of the world.” In Africa
the last flood of Germanic invasions spent itself within hearing of the last gasp of
Byzantium, and it was again through Africa that Islam came to play its great role
of conqueror and civilizer. . . .
So much for the past; and now, today. . . . The methods by which this continent
has been stolen have been contemptible and dishonest beyond expression. Lying
treaties, rivers of rum, murder, assassination, mutilation, rape and torture have
marked the progress of Englishman, German, Frenchman, and Belgian on the
Dark Continent. . . .
It all began, singularly enough, like the present war, with Belgium. Many of us
remember Stanley’s great solution of the puzzle of Central Africa when he traced
the mighty Congo sixteen hundred miles from Nyangwe to the sea. Suddenly the
world knew that here lay the key to the riches of Central Africa. It stirred
uneasily, but Leopold of Belgium was first on his feet, and the result was the
Congo Free State—God save the mark! . . .
Thus the world began to invest in color prejudice. The “color line” began to pay
dividends. For indeed, while the exploration of the valley of the Congo was the
occasion of the scramble for Africa, the cause lay deeper. The Franco-Prussian War
turned the eyes of those who sought power and dominion away from Europe. . . .
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With the waning of the possibility of the big fortune, gathered by starvation
wage and boundless exploitation of one’s weaker and poorer fellows at home,
arose more magnificently the dream of exploitation abroad. . . .
It is no longer simply the merchant prince, or the aristocratic monopoly, or even
the employing class, that is exploiting the world: it is the nation, a new democratic
nation composed of united capital and labor. . . .
Such nations it is that rule the modern world. Their national bond is no mere
sentimental patriotism, loyalty, or ancestor-worship. It is increased wealth, power,
and luxury for all classes on a scale the world never saw before. . . .
Whence comes this new wealth and on what does its accumulation depend? It
comes primarily from the darker nations of the world—Asia and Africa, South
and Central America, the West Indies and the islands of the South Seas. . . .
Thus, more and more, the imperialists have concentrated on Africa.
The greater the concentration the more deadly the rivalry. From Fashoda to
Agadir, repeatedly the spark has been applied to the European magazine and a
general conflagration narrowly averted. We speak of the Balkans as the storm center
of Europe and the cause of war, but this is mere habit. The Balkans are convenient
for occasions, but the ownership of materials and men in the darker world is
the real prize that is setting the nations of Europe at each other’s throats today.
The present world war is, then, the result of jealousies engendered by the recent
rise of armed national associations of labor and capital whose aim is the exploitation
of the wealth of the world mainly outside the European circle of nations.
These associations, grown jealous and suspicious at the division of the spoils of
trade-empire, are fighting to enlarge their respective shares; they look for expansion,
not in Europe but in Asia, and particularly in Africa. “We want no inch of
French territory,” said Germany to England, but Germany was “unable to give”
similar assurances as to France in Africa. . . .
What, then, are we to do, who desire peace and the civilization of all men? . . .
How can love of humanity appeal as a motive to nations whose love of luxury is
built on the inhuman exploitation of human beings, and who, especially in recent
years, have been taught to regard these human beings as inhuman? . . .
What the primitive peoples of Africa and the world need and must have if war
is to be abolished is perfectly clear:
First: land. Today Africa is being enslaved by the theft of her land and natural
resources. . . .
Secondly: we must train native races in modern civilization. . . .
Lastly, the principle of home rule must extend to groups, nations, and races. . . .
We are calling for European concord today; but at the utmost European concord
will mean satisfaction with, or acquiescence in, a given division of the spoils
of world dominion. . . . From this will arise three perpetual dangers of war. First,
renewed jealousy at any division of colonies or spheres of influence. . . .
Secondly: war will come from the revolutionary revolt of the lowest workers.
from Africa at the Center
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. . . Finally, the colored peoples will not always submit passively to foreign
domination. To some this is a lightly tossed truism. When a people deserve liberty
they fight for it and get it, say such philosophers; thus making war a regular, necessary
step to liberty. Colored people are familiar with this complacent judgment.
They endure the contemptuous treatment meted out by whites to those not
“strong” enough to be free. These nations and races, composing as they do a vast
majority of humanity, are going to endure this treatment just as long as they must
and not a moment longer. Then they are going to fight and the War of the Color
Line will outdo in savage inhumanity any war this world has yet seen. For colored
folk have much to remember and they will not forget.
But is this inevitable? Must we sit helpless before this awful prospect? . . .
Steadfast faith in humanity must come. The domination of one people by another
without the other’s consent, be the subject people black or white, must stop. The
doctrine of forcible economic expansion over subject peoples must go. . . .
Twenty centuries before Christ a great cloud swept over sea and settled on
Africa, darkening and well-nigh blotting out the culture of the land of Egypt. For
half a thousand years it rested there until a black woman, Queen Nefertari, “the
most venerated figure in Egyptian history,” rose to the throne of the Pharaohs and
redeemed the world and her people. Twenty centuries after Christ, black Africa,
prostrate, raped, and shamed, lies at the feet of the conquering Philistines of
Europe. Beyond the awful sea a black woman is weeping and waiting with her
sons on her breast. What shall the end be? The world-old and fearful things, war
and wealth, murder and luxury? Or shall it be a new thing—a new peace and new
democracy of all races: a great humanity of equal men? “Semper novi quid ex
Africa!”1
Source: Excerpt from W.E.B. Speaks: Speeches and Addresses 1891–1919 (New
York: Pathfinder Press, 1991).
from Africa at the Center
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1. Semper novi quid ex Africa!: “There’s always something new out of Africa!”
Primary Source 5.
THE RI S E OF THE COLOR BAR
1960 and 1951
John Strachey and N. C. Chaudhuri
In 1858, Great Britain transferred the control of India from the East India
Company to the British crown. Doing away with the corrupt rule of the East India
Company improved conditions in India considerably. Race, however, would play
an increasing role in Britain’s policy. In the first selection below, an Englishman
describes his ancestors’ change in attitude about skin color. In the second selection,
an Indian recounts a legend explaining why the British were lighter-skinned
than Indians.
T H I N K T H R O U G H H I S T O RY: Comparing
What are the similarities between the account by Strachey and the one by Chaudhuri?
John Strachey
Especially after the Indian Mutiny [of 1857], the fatal doctrine of racial superiority
came more and more to dominate the imaginations of the British in India.
Perhaps the deterioration in this respect can be made concrete from the records
of my own family. During the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries two of
my ancestors, Colonel Kirkpatrick and Edward Strachey, had married what the
late-nineteenth-century British would, so offensively, have called native women.
Kirkpatrick had married a Bengali lady of a distinguished family and Strachey a
Persian princess. In each case, so far as the family records go, these marriages did
not excite the least adverse comment or injure their careers in any way. How
unthinkable such alliances [marriages] would have been to my great-uncles, Sir
John and Sir Richard Strachey, who were members of the Governor-General’s
Council in the eighteen-seventies. This terrible withdrawal of genuine human
community went far to undo . . . the immense improvement in British conduct
[administration].
N. C. Chaudhuri
I have now to tell the story of another and a more serious problem of our relationship
with Englishmen, or, to be more exact, with all Europeans—the problem
of colour. Their fair complexion was a matter of great curiosity and still greater
perplexity with us, and we wanted to know why they were fair and we were dark.
One theory was that we had been darkened by the sun whereas they had been
bleached by the cold, both of us travelling in opposite directions from a golden or
rather brownish mean. . . . But one day a very close friend of mine told me a more
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sensational story. He was the son of a wealthy landowner who was also one of the
leading lawyers of the town. All the sons of this gentleman bore different names of
the god Siva. The eldest was called Lord of the Word, the second Trident-Holder,
the third Primeval Lord, the fourth Master of Serpents, and so on. The third,
Primeval Lord, was my friend. I regarded him as particularly well-informed about
the wider world, because he often went to Calcutta and had an uncle there who
was one of the foremost lawyers of the High Court.
Now, one day Primeval Lord told me in great confidence that all English babies
were actually born dark, even as dark as we were, but that immediately after birth
they were thrown into a tub filled with wine and it was the wine which bleached
their skin white. Primeval Lord added that the English fathers sat by the tub holding
in their hand the pronged instrument [a fork] with which the English ate and
watched if the babies were turning white within the expected time, and if they did
not the fathers instantly thrust the pronged instrument down the throats of the
babies and killed them. Primeval Lord did not improve on the story by pointing
out its moral in so many words, but the hint was that if the English were fair they
were so only because they were vicious. It was only through their alcoholism and
cruelty that they got their fair complexion, while we were condemned to remain
dark-skinned because we were not given to these vices.
Source: Excerpt from The End of Empire by John Strachey (New York: Random
House, 1960), p. 55.
The Rise of the Color Bar
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