Two Trips to Gorilla Land and the Cataracts of the Congo, vol 1 | Page 6

fashion, was considered decorous. His Majesty of the
North was old King Glass[FN#1] and his chief "tradesman," that is, his
premier, was the late Toko, a shrewd and far-seeing statesman. His
Majesty of the South was Rapwensembo, known to the English as King
William, to the French as Roi Denis.
Matters being in this state, M. le Comte Bouët-Willaumez, then
Capitaine de Vaisseau and Governor of Senegal, resolved, coûte que
coûte, to have his fortified Comptoir. Evidently the northern shore was
preferable; it was more populous and more healthy, facing the fresh
southerly winds. During the preliminary negotiations Toko, partial to
the English, whose language he spoke fluently, and with whom the
Glass family had ever been friendly, thwarted the design with all his
might, and, despite threats and bribes, honestly kept up his opposition
to the last. Roi Denis, on the other hand, who had been decorated with
the Légion d'Honneur for saving certain shipwrecked sailors, who knew
French well, and who hoped to be made king of the whole country,
favoured to the utmost Gallic views, taking especial care, however, to
place the broad river between himself and his white friends. M. de
Moleon, Capitaine de Frégate, and commanding the brig "Le Zèbre,"
occupied the place, Mr. Wilson[FN#2]("Western Africa," p. 254) says
by force of arms, but that is probably an exaggeration. To bring our
history to an end, the sons of Japheth overcame the children of Ham,
and, as the natives said, "Toko he muss love Frenchman, all but out of

(anglicè 'in') his heart."
As in the streets of Paris, so in every French city at home and abroad,
"Verborum vetus interit ætas,"
and an old colonial chart often reads like a lesson in modern history.
Here we still find under the Empire the Constitutional Monarchy of
1842-3. Mount Bouët leads to Fort "Aumale:" Point Joinville, at the
north jaw of the river, faces Cap Montagnies: Parrot has become
"Adelaide," and Coniquet "Orleans" Island. Indeed the love of
Louis-Philippe's family has lingered in many a corner where one would
least expect to meet it, and in 1869 I found "Port Saeed" a hot-bed of
Orleanism.
The hotel verandah was crowded with the minor officials, the surgeons,
and the clerks of the comptoir, drinking absinthe and colicky vermouth,
smoking veritable "weeds," playing at dominoes, and contending who
could talk longest and loudest. At 7 P.M. the word was given to "fall
to." The room was small and exceedingly close; the social board was
big and very rickety. The clientèle rushed in like backwoodsmen on
board a Mississippi floating- palace, stripped off their coats, tucked up
their sleeves, and, knife in one hand and bread in the other, advanced
gallantly to the fray. They began by quarrelling about carving; one
made a sporting offer to découper la soupe, but he would go no farther;
and Madame, as the head of the table, ended by asking my factotum,
Selim Agha, to "have the kindness." The din, the heat, the flare of
composition candles which gave 45 per cent. less of light than they
ought, the blunders of the slaves, the objurgations of the hostess, and
the spectacled face opposite me, were as much as I could bear, and a
trifle more. No wonder that the resident English merchants avoid the
table-d'hôte.
Provisions are dear and scarce at the Gaboon, where, as in other parts
of West Africa, the negro will not part with his animals, unless paid at
the rate of some twenty-two or twenty-three shillings for a lean goat or
sheep. Yet the dinner is copious; the employés contribute, their rations;
and thus the table shows beef twice a week. Black cattle are imported

from various parts of the coast, north and south; perhaps those of the
Kru country stand the climate best; the Government yard is well
stocked, and the polite Commodore readily allows our cruizers to buy
bullocks. Madame also is not a "bird with a long bill;" the dinner,
including piquette, alias vin ordinaire, coffee, and the petit verre, costs
five francs to the stranger, and one franc less pays the déjeuner a la
fourchette--most men here eat two dinners. The soi-disant Médoc (forty
francs per dozen) is tolerable, and the cassis (thirty francs) is drinkable.
I am talking in the present of things twelve years past. What a shadowy,
ghostly table d'hôte it has now become to me!
After dinner appeared cigar and pipe, which were enjoyed in the
verandah: I sat up late, admiring the intense brilliancy of the white and
blue lightning, but auguring badly for the future,-- natives will not hunt
during the rains. A strong wind was blowing from the north-east, which,
with the north-north-east, is here, as at Fernando Po and Camaronen,
the stormy quarter. A "dry tornado," however, was the