Portuguese Africa

Portuguese Africa

J A M E S DUFFY

HARVARD UNIVERSITY PRESS

Cambridge, Massachusetts
© Copyright 19$$ and 1968 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College

Third Printing, 1968

Distributed in Great Britain by

Oxford University Press, London

Publication of this book has been aided by a grant

from the Ford Foundation

Maps by Samuel H. Bryant

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: fj> 1 pj'H

Printed in the United States of America

 PREFACE TO THE THIRD PRINTING

In the ten years since the publication of Portuguese Africa most

of Africa has undergone significant political changes. The frag-
mented regions of colonial empires have become independent states;
only the bastions of white rule in southern Africa — Angola,
Moçambique, Southern Rhodesia, and South Africa — have with-
stood the advance of African nationalism, and only South Africa
has not been under armed attack from African revolutionaries. The
importance of Portuguese Africa, inconsequential in the grand days
of the colonial period, has increased enormously in the last decade
both in Africa and the world outside. Depending on your view,
Portuguese Africa has become the last relic of European domination
in Africa and a threat to world peace or a symbol of resistance to
primitive black power or, to a few at least, the final hope for a multi-
racial society in Africa.
Eight years after the revolt in northern Angola, seven years
after the beginning of guerrilla campaigns in Portuguese Guinea (the
forgotten war), and five years after the probing invasions of northern
Moçambique — revolutionary activities which have obliged Portugal
to maintain over 100,000 troops in the territories and to expend up
to one third of its annual budget on defense in Africa — Portuguese
policy remains pretty much the same as it has been since 1930. In
late 1967 Premier Salazar, addressing municipal representatives from
Moçambique, spoke in familiar words: "Angola and Moçambique
are part of the Portuguese nation . . . The tightening of relations
is essential to the life of each one of them." So long as the durable
dictator controls colonial policy, Portugal is determined to hang on
in Africa.
The reasons continue to be mainly economic and sentimental.
Despite the financial and military strains in both colonies and a tight
balance of payments, a fairly sound economic infrastructure has been
developed in the 1960's, and the production of goods and services
has sharply increased. Angola has had its boom and its decline and
its recovery; the growth of the West African colony, based on oil,
iron, and coffee, has by previous standards shown a striking advance.
Moçambique, still benefiting largely from a transit trade and the use
of its black labor, has diversified its agricultural production and has
begun to be a major supplier of hydroelectric power. The industrial
complex in Angola and Moçambique is steadily expanding, and de-
velopment projects for the future foresee the creation of a modern
balanced economy which will assure a continued rate of growth.
The emphasis within these economic developments has been, as
always, on European-dominated enterprises for the expansion of
white industry and agriculture. It is doubtful at best that the indirect
benefits of economic progress extend very widely into the African
world. Commercial produce from African farms has declined, and
extension services for them remain negligible. In the past decade the
heavy dependence on African labor and crude industry has decreased.
Portuguese officials speak optimistically of the long term benefits
which Africans will receive from various development programs, but
the gap between white prosperity and black poverty has not visibly
narrowed.
What might have been, even in a closely controlled economy, the
normal upward mobility for a segment of the African population has
been arrested by the continuing migration of poor, often illiterate,
Portuguese settlers into Angola and Moçambique. Over the past
decade 100,000 or more white settlers have gone to Portuguese Africa,
helping to swell the European population of Angola to probably over
300,000 and the white population of Moçambique to an estimated
150,000 people. Even in a colonial society which suffers a chronic
shortage of skilled and semiskilled workers, such a continuing mi-
gration is a large contributing factor to the economic division of the
races.
White immigration and the fighting along the borders of the
territories have exacerbated the tensions between the races, and the
process of racial separation has continued. Racial harmony, still
rhetorically invoked as the particular contribution of the Portuguese
in Africa, has an uncertain future. Whatever the remote intent of
official policy on the formation of a multiracial society in Africa, the
reality is that Angola and Moçambique are becoming in almost every
sense white colonies. The common bond between South Africa,
Southern Rhodesia, and Portuguese Africa is the simple recognition,
stronger than ever before, of the determination of southern Africa's
white rulers to maintain their control.
Sentimentally, however, Portugal cannot recognize such racial
divisions; her presence in Africa is still regarded as a singular accom-
plishment in sociological history. Portugal has prevailed in the past
and is prevailing in the present and will prevail in the future not
because, it is argued, of military superiority, of skillful diplomacy, or,
as critics have claimed, of inertia, but because of a basically different
way of life which Portugal carried to Africa. The doctrine of Lusi-
tanian racial tolerance remains both an explanation and a kind of
philosophic, or sentimental, policy. When events in the early and
middle 1960's showed that many Africans were in fact intolerant of
Portuguese and that a number of Portuguese settlers and officials
were equally intolerant of Africans, these difficulties and the ensuing
struggles were written off as the results of a nationalist Communist
fever which had temporarily afflicted Portuguese Africa. In time, it
was maintained, the traditional good will between the races would
reassert itself and the allegedly peaceful hegemony of the two races
would return. In the meantime the historic mission must be defended
by all appropriate measures.
T o give further proof of Portugal's racial oneness — and to
counter complaints from abroad — the Salazar government has begun
to liquidate the two most visible examples of racial inequality, the
indigenous regime and the native labor codes. In 1961 the regime do
indigenato was abolished and theoretically the Portuguese constitu-
tion was held to apply in all areas of the Portuguese African world.
What practical result this change has had on the lives of some twelve
million Africans is difficult to discern, for much of the old adminis-
trative apparatus has remained. Also, beginning in i960, a series of
labor reforms, the effects of some of them now visible, were under-
taken: labor recruitment through local officials was banned, the forced
cultivation of crops was done away with, and a new schedule of
requirements for employers of African labor was introduced. In
1962 the International Labor Organization, investigating complaints
brought by Ghana, declared itself to be fully satisfied of Portugal's
good intent in its changes of policy, legislation, and practice. More
recent observers have commented on an almost radical change in
labor practices in Angola and Moçambique, although there is little
evidence that in either colony labor is really free.
On another and equally important front Portugal has begun to
deal seriously with traditional inadequacies. An intensive campaign
in education for African students has been undertaken. The effort
does not imply, however, any change in the basic notion that the
purpose of this education is to spread Portuguese culture. Expendi-
tures for the rural school program have tripled, and the number of
students in school has increased by more than 200 percent in the last
ten years. In spite of many difficulties, not the least of which is pov-
erty, the possibilities for African children to continue their schooling
beyond a rural system have increased.
The lack of any real change in the philosophy of a colonial power
which sees as its mission to re-create its own cultural image in Africa
casts a shadow across the future, because more than simple politics
are involved. Tradition and ancient attitudes must have their consid-
eration. For the present the time of final crisis has been averted or
delayed. But in spite of the beliefs of the Salazar government that
Portuguese Africa is unique, the problems of Angola and Moçambique
and Guinea are not for the African population much different from
the problems Africans faced in other colonial areas. What is different
is the tough unrelenting policies of the present Portuguese govern-
ment which have postponed an inevitability.
In the absence of any startling changes over the last decade, I
have not tried to extend the original edition of Portuguese Africa
up to the present, although I realize that some of the material in the
last chapters has passed out of date. Nor have I attempted to rewrite
any part of the book. There are, I know, serious mistakes of emphasis
and interpretation, the result of my considerable ignorance when I
wrote Portuguese Africa. T o correct these would really have meant
writing another and different book. My research in the early chapters
was often inadequate, and my objectivity in the later chapters has
been questioned, but I do believe, as I believed in 1958, that Portu-
guese Africa is essentially right as it is. Since then a number of books
have been written on one part of the subject or another: for the
reader who wants to go beyond my generalities I give a small list of
those in English.
A book by John Marcum on nationalism in Portuguese Africa
will be published by M.I.T. Press in late 1968 or early 1969. This
will certainly be the authoritative study on the complex problem.
The periodical literature is now far too vast to deal with, but I
especially recommend the November 1967 issue of Africa Report,
a special edition on the "Three Revolutions" in Portuguese Africa.
James Duffy

August 1968
Angola: Views of a Revolt, edited by Philip Mason (London, 1962)
Axelson, Eric. Portugal and the Scramble for Africa (Johannesburg,
1967)
Axelson, Eric. Portuguese in South-east Africa, ι6οο-ιηοο (Johan-
nesburg, i960)
Birmingham, David. The Portuguese Conquest of Angola (London,
19Ó5)
Birmingham, David. Trade and Conflict in Angola (Oxford, 1966)
Boxer, Charles R., and Carlos de Azevedo. Fort Jesus and the Portu-
guese in Mombasa (London, i960)
Boxer, Charles R. Race Relations in the Portuguese Colonial Empire
(Oxford, 1963)
Chilcote, Ronald. Portuguese Africa (Englewood Cliffs, 1967)
Duffy, James. Portugal in Africa (Cambridge, Mass., 1962)
Duffy, James. Portugal's African Territories: Present Realities (New
York, 1962)
Duffy, James. A Question of Slavery (Oxford, 1967)
Edwards, Adrian. The Ovimbundu under Two Sovereigns (London,
1962)
Ehrmark, Anders, and Per Wästberg. Angola and Moçambique.
Translated by Paul Britten-Austin (London, 1963)
Figueiredo, Antonio de. Portugal and its Empire: The Truth (Lon-
don, 1961)
Hammond, Richard. Portugal and Africa, 1815-1910 (Stanford,
1966)
Hammond, Richard. Portugal's African Problem: Some Economic
Facets (New York, 1962)
Harris, Marvin. Portugal's African Wards (New York, 1958)
Moreira, Adriano. Portugal's Stand in Africa (New York, 1962)
Okuma, Thomas. Angola in Ferment (Boston, 1962)
Rodrigues, José Honorio. Brazil and Africa. Translated by Richard
Mazzara and Sam Hileman (Berkeley, 1965)
Spence, C. F. Moçambique (Cape Town, 1963)
Strandes, Justus. The Portuguese Period in Moçambique. Translated
by Jean Wallwirk (Nairobi, 1961). An English edition of the
classic first published in German in 1899.
Vansina, Jan. Kingdoms of the Savannah (Madison, 1966)
Warhurst, P. R. Anglo-Portuguese Relations in South-Central Africa,
1890-1900 (London, 1962)
Wohlgemuth, Patricia. The Portuguese Territories and the United
Nations (New York, 1963)
 PREFACE TO THE FIRST PRINTING

O F the modern European powers Portugal has the longest colo-

nial record in Africa. Since about 1500 the major areas of Portuguese
interest in Africa have been below the equator, in Angola and Mo-
çambique, where Portugal has been engaged, with varying intensity,
in commercial, military, and colonizing campaigns. In the course of
this work I have attempted to trace the historical contact of Portugal
with the lands and peoples of Angola and Moçambique and to inter-
pret the significance of her activities there. I have not sought to write
a comprehensive account of African and Portuguese life in the two
areas. I have chosen to emphasize those aspects of the Portuguese oc-
cupation which seem properly to characterize recurrent colonial prob-
lems and attitudes. T o the best of my knowledge, a co-ordinated
single-volume study of Angola and Moçambique does not exist, and
I hope that this book will contribute, if only superficially, to an under-
standing of Portuguese policies and traditions in Africa.
I am aware that the title Portuguese Africa is somewhat of a mis-
nomer, since I touch but lightly on Portugal's possessions in West
Africa north of the equator — Sâo Tomé, the Cape Verdes, and Por-
tuguese Guinea. These regions have had, I realize, occasional impor-
tance in Portugal's colonial schemes in Africa, but the greater part of
that country's policy and enterprise has been directed toward Angola
and Moçambique, and it is to these two overseas provinces that one
usually refers when speaking of Portuguese Africa. I should also point
out that for convenience I have taken the liberty of using the words
"colony" and "province" interchangeably to designate Angola and
Moçambique, frequently for periods when these terms were either not
in common acceptance or when one word or the other was given
specific reality by colonial legislation.
In the course of developing the subject I shall be compelled in a
number of chapters to dwell primarily on one or another aspect of a
complex problem. So as to bring before the reader the total picture
in these chapters I make reference to associated problems. In some
 PREFACE

instances this has led to a repetition which I have unfortunately been

unable to avoid. I also realize that the manner of presentation has led
me to omit material which might fruitfully have been included, and I
deeply regret these inadequacies.
In general I have used the Portuguese version of African proper
names in Angola and Moçambique, although these may occasionally
be at variance with English usage. I believe that most of the time these
names will be easily recognizable. Portuguese orthography and ac-
centuation, which have undergone many major revisions in the last
hundred years, are another problem, and, as Professor Charles Boxer
remarks in his preface to Salvador de Sá, one can only plead guilty to
being inconsistent. All translations in the work are my own.
The study resulting in this publication was made under a fellow-
ship granted by The Ford Foundation. However, the conclusions,
opinions, and other statements in this publication are those of the au-
thor and are not necessarily those of The Ford Foundation. The
American Council of Learned Societies has made a grant-in-aid to
help in the preparation of the manuscript. I wish to acknowledge the
assistance given by Brandeis University. And I thank all those persons
at home and abroad who so generously helped me in so many different
ways.

June 1958 James D u f f y

 MAPS

Africa facing page i

Moçambique, 19;; facing page 188
Angola, 195; facing page 189

ILLUSTRATIONS
(Photographs courtesy of the Agènda Geral do Ultramar)

The sixteenth-century fortress at Sofala, Moçambique facing page 68

Avenue of the Republic, Lourenço Marques, Moçambique 68
The seventeenth-century church at Muxima, Angola 69
Luanda, Angola 69
Ox-drawn Boer cart, Angola, 1937 100
The docks at Lourenço Marques, Moçambique 100
Car ferry, Cuanza River, Angola 101
Modern bridge, Moçambique 101
African agricultural project, Caconda, Angola 290
Agricultural project for Portuguese settlers, Cela, Angola 290
Quissama village, Angola 291
Convalescent center for African workers, near Beira, Moçambique 291
School children, Moçâmedes, Angola 322
Liceu Salvador Correia de Sá, Luanda, Angola 322
Delegation to greet Portuguese President Craveiro Lopes, Angola, 1954 523
Chieftains of the Mambone region, Moçambique 323
 Contents
INTRODUCTION ι

I. T H E C O N G O E X P E R I M E N T 5

II. MOÇAMBIQUE AND T H E T R A D I T I O N 24

I I I . A N G O L A T O 1858 49

IV. COLONIZATION AND SETTLEMENT 79

V. T H E MISSIONARY E F F O R T 103

V I . T H E SLAVE T R A D E , SLAVERY, AND CON-

T R A C T LABOR 130

VII. LIVINGSTONE AND T H E PORTUGUESE 174

V I I I . INTERNATIONAL DISPUTES 201

IX. A N E W ERA 225

X . P R O M I S E A N D D I S A P P O I N T M E N T , 1895-1930 245

X I . T H E N E W S T A T E IN A F R I C A : M Y S T I Q U E
AND ADMINISTRATION 268

X I I . T H E N E W S T A T E IN A F R I C A : N A T I V E
POLICY 289

X I I I . T H E N E W S T A T E IN A F R I C A : P R O J E C T S
AND PROBLEMS 329

NOTES 345

INDEX 379
caff verde Λ FRENCH W E ST AFRICA

^'"CtplVi^^^
 INTRODUCTION

T O D A Y Angola and Moçambique are more than place-names on

the map of Africa. After four and a half centuries frequently marked
by isolation, neglect (save for the ruthless exploitations of the slave
trade), and frustration, the two colonies seem to have achieved at last
some of their great expectations. Although still among the most under-
developed areas of the continent, the Portuguese possessions have in
the last two decades undergone almost startling material transforma-
tions. T h e y no longer stand on the edge of Africa's development and
crises. Politically and economically Angola and Moçambique have
been drawn into the realities of modern colonialism, and it is now
impossible to discuss the fate of Africa below the equator without
giving thoughtful consideration to the present and future roles of the
Portuguese African provinces.
The dreams of a Portuguese colony stretching in a bold swath
across southern Africa from the Atlantic to the Indian Ocean died in
1890, but the territories of Portuguese West and East Africa are still
considerable, making Portugal, as her statesmen sometimes like to
boast, the world's third largest colonial power. Comprising some
780,000 square miles (Angola, 481,000 square miles, and Moçambique,
almost 298,000), their total area is roughly equal to that of Western
Europe. The population of the two provinces is not so impressive.
Moçambique has perhaps five and a half million inhabitants, while
Angola has slightly over four million. Almost 99 per cent of the popu-
lation is African.
Angola, now the Cinderella colony of the Portuguese empire, is
a solid block of territory extending from the mouth of the river Congo
to the desert of South-West Africa; it is bounded on the north by the
Belgian Congo, in the east by the Belgian Congo and Northern Rho-
desia, and in the south by Bechuanaland and South-West Africa. From
an arid coastal strip the land rises eastward in a series of terraces to
the central and southern plateaus of Bié and Huila. Here in the deep
2 INTRODUCTION

central area of the province lies the watershed for the Kasai-Congo
and Zambezi rivers and for the lesser streams, the Cuanza and Cunene.
In the plateau country, with its healthful air and adequate rainfall,
stretches the expanding frontier of Portuguese settlement in Angola.
In the north the semitropical districts of Malange and Cuanza Norte
also offer rich possibilities for plantation commerce.
Moçambique, shaped roughly like a Y, lies at the southern exten-
sion of the Great Rift Valley. Her western frontier touches, in suc-
cession, the Union of South Africa, the Rhodesias, and Nyasaland,
and the northern boundary is with Tanganyika. Not so favored geo-
graphically as Angola, Moçambique is dominated by a long low coast
which is for the most part moist and malarial. Only in the upper
reaches of the Zambezi, which bisects the province, and in the high-
lands of Portuguese Niassa, are conditions equivalent to those of the
Angolan plateau. Though situated some degrees farther south than
Angola, Moçambique is a more tropical land; its pace of existence is
more leisurely and its promise of exploitation less.
Angola and Moçambique are lands of extremes. In perhaps no
other region of Africa has the presence of a colonial power been so
clearly impressed as on the cities and towns of Portuguese Africa.
In a sense they are Portugal. In the most ancient coastal cities or in
the newest towns of the interior, the architecture, the streets, the city
squares, the gardens and parks, the color, the spirit, the whole way of
life is fundamentally Portuguese. But beyond the towns, in the bush,
in the African fields and villages, one has the feeling that little has
changed in four hundred years, and in many of these areas the in-
fluence of the Portuguese occupation may hardly be said to exist.
Only a stretch of rail track, a well-kept road, or an isolated Portu-
guese house betrays the advance of Europe.
In comparison with their more prosperous neighbors, Angola and
Moçambique are today far from being rich, but viewed against the
disappointments of previous centuries the colonies' prosperity is little
short of miraculous. Much of the present expansion in the economies
of Angola and Moçambique is based on selective agricultural crops
and the transit trade through several excellent ports. The verified min-
eral deposits of the two colonies offer no great encouragement for the
future; the diamond mines of Angola's Lunda district and the oil
field near Luanda are the only proved mineral deposits of great value
in either province.1 Industry is still rudimentary and, apart from the
various fish products from southern Angola, serves mostly to satisfy
local needs.2 The export economy of Portuguese Africa — with the
exception of Angolan diamonds — rests squarely on agricultural prod-
 INTRODUCTION 3
ucts, on the African crops of cotton and cereals and on the plantation
3

crops of sugar, sisal, copra, coffee, and tea.4

The large deep-water ports of Lobito, Luanda, Lourenço,
Marques, and Beira, and the lesser ports of Moçâmedes in southern
Angola and Nacala in northern Moçambique — which figure promi-
nently in the development plans for these two areas — are Portu-
guese Africa's greatest natural assets; 5 no other African territory is so
gifted with a profusion of truly excellent natural harbors. The ships
of many flags that call at the ports of Angola and Moçambique are
the most visible examples of the colonies' recent economic progress,
for although the majority of the cargo passing through the ports is
transit trade, a growing percentage of it is local exports and imports.
Tools, industrial and railway machinery, and vehicles from the United
States, England, and West Germany, wine and cotton goods from
Portugal, and countless lesser items from a dozen other countries
satisfy the increasing demands of Angola and Moçambique. Portu-
guese African crops and a handful of manufactured products flow
steadily to Europe, America, and other parts of Africa.® The diverse
nature of this trade has brought the provinces into ever closer con-
tact with the other countries of the world.
A complex of rail lines links Lobito, Beira, and Lourenço Marques
with the rail systems of central and southern Africa, 7 and local lines
penetrate the interior of both colonies.8 The construction of all-
weather roads and bridges is a major project in the development
schemes for Angola and Moçambique (about fifteen million dollars
have been budgeted for road and bridge construction in Angola and
about eight million for similar works in Moçambique). Government-
operated air lines offer efficient and expanding service between the
cities and larger towns.
Angola and Moçambique are changing fast. Colonization schemes,
hydro-electric projects, agricultural stations, and mineral survey mis-
sions all give evidence of the even greater expectations Portugal holds
for Angola and Moçambique. In the old coastal towns, in new towns
in the interior, and in white agricultural colonies a growing Portuguese
immigration swells the European population — and creates problems
for the future. There is a sentiment abroad in Portugal and in Africa
that the age of material promise has finally arrived. If the Portuguese
are more expansive than fearful about the shape of events to come in
Angola and Moçambique, their optimism in part derives from the
feeling that they have survived the vicissitudes of the past and that at
no time in their history have the colonies been better prepared to face
the future. But the weight of tradition rests heavily in Portuguese
4 INTRODUCTION

Africa. In spite of genuine material progress, the Portuguese presence

in Africa today is still characterized by ignorance, repression, and a
careless exploitation of the African people, and in purely human
terms the lessons of the past offer little hope for the future.
 I

T H E CONGO EXPERIMENT

O N the southern bank of one of the world's great rivers the

Portuguese crown in the sixteenth century attempted a modest pro-
gram of co-operation and development with a primitive people,
which, compared with the policies of many European powers in the
nineteenth and twentieth centuries, remains, in some of its ideals, a
model of diplomatic understanding and restraint. Although the sub-
stance of events in the Congo kingdom fell far short of the royal
vision (from the beginning of Portuguese colonization in Africa, one
is confronted by the gap between the administrative dream, contained
in elegant legislation, and the reality), nevertheless the story of Por-
tugal's conduct in the first half of the sixteenth century has captured
the imagination of panegyrist and critic alike.
Official Portuguese design in the Congo was not military conquest,
administrative domination, or even primarily commercial exploitation,
goals which at one time or another determined Lusitanian policy in the
Indian Ocean in the sixteenth century. Instead, the crown sought to
establish with the African potentate a relationship founded on alli-
ance, plans for the spread of a Christian European cultural pattern,
and simple economic agreements. In practical terms Portugal hoped
to use the conversion of a supreme African chief in order to evangelize
his people, to guarantee her own favored economic position in the
area, and to make contact with the Ethiopian kingdom of the sup-
posedly Christian Prester John.
That the Portuguese accepted the paramount chiefs of the Congo
as equals and that their penetration into the area was generally marked
by pacific relations with the African has come to have special and,
6 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

possibly, distorted significance in the twentieth century when the

whole endeavor is viewed against the subsequent background of
European exploitation of Africa. T h e significance is further colored
by the fact that their activities in the Congo represented the first sub-
stantial contact of a European nation with black Africa. One is faced,
on one hand, by fanciful interpretations of what was, and on the
other, by bitter conjectures of what might have been. For the defend-
ers of Portuguese imperialism, the Congo experiment represents the
founding of colonial traditions which continue to the present day.
Here they find abundant historical example for avowed sentiments of
racial equality, for sincere attempts to educate and Christianize the
African — with the African's consent — and for relatively disin-
terested economic and military assistance. T h e critics of the Portu-
guese see a cause that was lost. When the Congo adventure failed, as
it was doomed to do because of Portuguese commitments in the East
which drained the mother country of men and resources, and the
slave trade became the dominant interest in the Congo and Angola,
the failure is viewed as a singular betrayal of the African. "Seldom,"
writes Basil Davidson, "was there a more obvious example of people
asking for bread and being given a stone." 1 Ultimately, however,
what the Portuguese did or did not accomplish in the Congo is neither
a triumph nor a betrayal. It is a segment of European history in
Africa which at an early date offers insight into the problems of
African colonization.

In the middle months of the year 1483, Captain Diogo Cäo —

whose abilities as navigator and explorer have led some to consider
him the leading Portuguese mariner of his century — arrived at the
mouth of a majestic brown river whose current swept fresh water
twenty leagues into the Atlantic. He had reached the Congo or, in
Portuguese nomenclature, the Zaire, a derivation of a native word
meaning "the river that swallows all others." On the left bank of the
massive stream Cao and his men put into shore; on a spit of land they
erected a stone padräo bearing the arms of Portugal and the bare facts
of their visit. Having briefly established friendly relations with the
leaders of a Negro community situated there, Cäo left four Portu-
guese companions to be conducted with gifts and messages to the
paramount chief dwelling in the interior and pursued his explorations
southward.
The first contact between European and African in the regions of
the Congo is almost casual. Doubtless the inhabitants of the area were
 THE CONGO EXPERIMENT 7
sufficiently astonished at the appearance of white visitors from the
sea, but for the Portuguese the Congo encounter was only another in
a progression of landfalls along the humid coast. From this first visit
there is little to indicate the extraordinary shape of events soon to
take place, and certainly there is no realization in contemporary ac-
counts that the Congo kingdom and the lands adjacent to the south
would some day form the bulk of a modern colonial empire. Such
indifference should not come as a surprise. B y 1480 Portuguese pre-
occupations were not for this section of the African coast. T h e y were
for the southern promontory of the continent and the open searoads
beyond to the wealth of the Indies. T h e discovery of the Congo
was merely another in a series of discoveries that had been continuing
with regularity since late in the first third of the century.

B y a set of curious and probably exaggerated circumstances, the

year 1415 has emerged as one of the decisive dates in Portuguese
imperial destiny. In 1415 Joâo I, the first king in the new dynasty of
Avis, carried the battle against the Moors across the sea to the North
African fortress-port of Ceuta. T h e expedition was the initial move
in a Moroccan campaign indirectly associated with subsequent W e s t
African exploration. It is one of the first in a chain of events linking
Europe with the East b y ship, for it was here that Joäo's third son,
Henry, was reinforced b y evidence and rumor in his determination
to reach the far side of the African continent b y sea.
T h e figure of the man responsible for directing the first half-
century of African exploration was cast in the particular heroic mold
so respected b y the Portuguese. Prince Henry, the Navigator, was, if
w e are to believe the historians of his time, devout, humorless, austere;
he possessed an extraordinary capacity for patient hopeful planning,
confident in the eventual success of his schemes. His dedication to
discovery — and not the accident of his English blood, as many have
claimed — has made him the most internationally famous member of
Portuguese royalty. His practical and idealistic motives, trade and
evangelization, are still voiced in the twentieth century to justify
Portuguese colonialism in Africa.
Expeditions along the coast were initially slow and painstaking;
only the settlement of the Canary Islands in 1424 represents a clear-
cut indication of Henry's progress. During this period coasting was
an uncertain adventure, reflecting the lack of geographical knowledge
and the fears of the mariners. In 1434 G i l Eanes succeeded where he
had failed the year before in rounding the menacing Cape Boj ador,
8 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

and for the next thirty years successful voyages continued pushing be-
yond that point. In 1436 Eanes and Gonçalves Balaia reached the Rio
de Oro, and the 1441 expedition of Nuno Tristäo and Antâo Gon-
çalves made its way to Cape Blanc. From the latter voyage dates the
beginning of Portugal's West African slave trade. As a reward for the
first visible profits after long years of sacrifice, Henry received from
his brother the king a commercial monopoly in the new-found lands;
his mariners were granted a plenary indulgence from the Pope in
the unhappy event that they should die while spreading Christian
civilization in Africa. In the next fifteen years, the probing caravels
passed Cape Verde and beyond, to the Gambia, now not only carry-
ing on the work of exploration, but serving as well the scattered
fortresses and factories Henry had ordered built in their wake.
From the trading posts came human and material wealth sufficient
to silence the intermittent complaints from critics of Henry's work.
Some of the first products to reach Portugal and Europe were exotica
(birds, monkeys, feathers), but the bulk of commerce coming from
West Africa was gold, most of it black. A great part of the history of
Portuguese Africa is written in terms of slavery; much of the contro-
versy associated with that area for the following four centuries has its
origin in the 1440's when men like the chivalresquely named Lan-
çarote de Lagos — one of Henry's financial aides — began in earnest
to exploit a trade that was shortly to introduce into Portugal, if one
is to give credence to the extravagant figures of the humanist Damiäo
de Gois, some ten to twelve thousand African slaves a year, a part of
whom by the turn of the century, if one is to believe another, unlikely
figure, made up one-tenth of Lisbon's population. Economically, the
practice proved a temporary boon to the hard-pressed labor market in
Portugal. From the Church's point of view, the practice was held de-
fensible in terms of spiritual salvation. Finally, the Portuguese claim
that their buying and selling of Africans (facilitated by the mortal
enemies of Christian Portugal, Mohammedan slave dealers) was an ac-
cepted custom of the day, soon to be shared b y other European na-
tions, and they add, with considerable justification, that the slave in
Portugal was treated liberally and humanely.
Occasional ambushes by militant Africans did not discourage the
Portuguese explorers. N o r did the death of Prince Henry in 1460. In
the two years after his death, Pero de Sintra surveyed much of the
Sierra Leone coast, and in the early 1470's Portuguese ships sailed
below the equator. In 1474 Afonso V invested his son and heir Joäo
with the responsibility for affairs in Guinea and the investigation of
the seas beyond. Joäo possessed an Henriquean vision and pertinacity:
 THE CONGO EXPERIMENT 9
during his reign (1481-1495) Diogo Câo came upon the Congo and
Dias rounded the Cape of Good Hope. Before the end of the century
da Gama made his way to India.
The hundred years after Ceuta are the grandiose century of
Portuguese exploration and expansion. They encompass an age which,
beginning with Henry and ending with Afonso de Albuquerque, in-
cludes captains and warriors like Câo, Bartolomeu Dias, Cabrai, Vasco
da Gama, Francisco d'Almeida. They furnish a seemingly endless
source of inspiration to chroniclers, poets, scientists, in Portugal and
abroad, who so define, elaborate, and redefine past glories that these
years have become an age of supermen whose inspiration is still a liv-
ing presence in Portuguese colonial thought. While the study of
Portuguese Africa is only in passing concerned with their heroics,
many of the current attitudes in every part of the Lusitanian world
have their nationalistic foundation in the século maravilhoso.

On his return from a brief survey of the arid shore south of the
Congo, Diogo Câo put in at the village where he had left the four-man
embassy to the paramount chief of the area. Discovering that his com-
panions had been retained at the Manicongo's court, the captain seized
four Africans from among those who had come to visit the ships.
Though the men were clearly taken as hostages for the safety of the
Portuguese ambassadors — if indeed they were still alive — Câo at-
tempted to make it clear to the local prince, a relative of the supreme
chief, that his subjects would be returned in fifteen months. It is by no
means certain that Diogo Cäo's motives were as benevolent as subse-
quent interpretation has held them to be, but what is certain is that
his action was turned into a masterstroke of diplomacy by the Portu-
guese king and his advisers.
Hopes of establishing contact with the kingdom of Prester John
undoubtedly influenced the decision of Joáo II to treat the Congo
captives in a lordly manner. An alliance with the Manicongo seemed
to offer an excellent opportunity to penetrate the interior of the con-
tinent in an attempt to reach this goal. Accordingly, every effort was
made to impress the hostages with the wealth and spiritual values of the
Portuguese. They were regarded as guests of the crown, were hand-
somely clad and housed, and were introduced into the mysteries of the
national language and faith. The treatment was not wasted on the un-
sophisticated visitors. From victims of a kidnapping, which had sorely
distressed the Congo king, the four Africans were transformed into
messengers of good will who were able to explain to their chief far
IO PORTUGUESE AFRICA

better than any Portuguese the benefits to be gained from friendship

with the Europeans.
The return of Diogo Cao to the Congo in 1484 or 1485 was more
a triumphal embassy than another voyage of exploration. He carried
rich presents for King Nzinga-a-Cuum (or Nzinga N k u w u ) and the
traditional messages of hope that he would put aside his idols and em-
brace the Christian faith. When the expedition reached the Congo,
the exchange of hostages was easily arranged, the Portuguese rejoin-
ing their compatriots and the Africans going to the capital to astound
their fellows by their bizarre dress and miraculous stories of distant
Portugal. Cào sent promises to follow them after exploring still fur-
ther the southern coast.
On this trip the captain sailed beyond the present-day frontier be-
tween Angola and South-West Africa. Returning to the river, he went
upstream its navigable limits, to the falls above Matadi, where on a
face of rock he had inscribed, "Here came the ships of the illustrious
D. Joäo of Portugal . . ." Diogo Cao and a company of men then
went inland to the capital Mbanza. Delighted with the visit of the
white men, Nzinga-a-Cuum proved receptive to the Christian religion
and to the promise of further visits from the Portuguese. He prepared
a small group of his people to be sent to Portugal to be trained in
European ways, and asked that Joäo II send missionaries, builders, and
farmers to instruct his people.
Portuguese intelligence of the Congo kingdom, based on the re-
ports of Diogo Cäo's two voyages, was necessarily scant, as in fact was
all of their knowledge of West Africa in back of the coast, and the
notions of Joäo and his advisers about the chief with whom they were
treating were equally vague. 2 It is apparent from the outset that the
crown believed — or wished to believe — that it was dealing with a
king of more sophistication and greater political power than was actu-
ally the case. (The same misconception prevailed with regard to the
Monomotapa, apparent supreme ruler of the interior of Moçambique
in the middle of the sixteenth century.) That this mistaken attitude
has become one of the legends of Portuguese colonial history is partly
in recognition of the dignities conferred upon the Manicongo by
Joäo II and Manuel, for there is no evidence that the Manicongo's
people enjoyed a civilization more advanced than they do today.
The king of the Congo in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth
centuries was paramount chief of a loose confederation of tribal or-
ganizations over which he could usually claim authority, but his
suzerainty was not always stable. The geographical limitations of his
realm were roughly the Congo River in the north (although at times
 T H E CONGO EXPERIMENT

he held the obedience of tribes on the other side of the river), the
Dande in the south, the Cuango River in the east, and the Atlantic
Ocean to the west. The kingdom was split into six provinces, gov-
erned by lesser chiefs. These offices were more or less hereditary, but
it was not unknown for a chief to take over by force. Over these so-
called provinces the Manicongo's authority was supreme in the six-
teenth century, after which it diminished. The Manicongo also
claimed the allegiance of the kingdom of Ndongo (Angola), but his
influence there waned perceptibly as the sixteenth century progressed,
thanks in part to the intervention of Portuguese slave dealers.3
The response of Joâo II to the Manicongo's request for assistance
makes it clear that the Portuguese king considered the mission of more
than passing importance. A fleet of three ships under the command of
the fidalgo Gonçalo de Sousa — who died of the plague during the
voyage and was replaced by his nephew Rui de Sousa — was dis-
patched to the Congo late in 1490. The embassy consisted of priests,
skilled workers, and Africans who had been tutored in a Portuguese
monastery. The cargo included tools, presents for the king and his
family, and numerous religious objects. The purpose of the expedi-
tion was eminently peaceful; the company was to evangelize and in a
sense nationalize, to seek alliance not conquest. Arriving at Pinda (the
Portuguese anchorage not far from the present port of Santo Antonio
do Zaire) in March 1491, the company undertook the march to the
kraals of Nzinga-a-Cuum, about one hundred and twenty-five miles
from the river's mouth. When the chief was advised of their approach
he sent two captains to accompany them. In Mbanza a throng of
Africans, "playing different kind of instruments . . . barbarously
out of tune . . . and the king on a high platform, on an ivory seat
. . . awaited the ambassador and the vicar and received them with
honors and extraordinary attentions." 4
The history of the Portuguese expansion records few contacts
with any African or Asian people which began so auspiciously. Within
a month the Manicongo was baptized, taking the Christian name of
Joâo. Other notables of the court and one son followed the lead of the
chief. Nor was Portuguese assistance entirely spiritual. Before their
return to Portugal, Rui de Sousa and his men joined the convert chief
to put down a rebellion of the Anzicos, a tribe inhabiting the northern
coast and some islands at the mouth of the Congo. Rui de Sousa then
sailed for Portugal, leaving behind, in a climate which had already
begun to take a fearful toll of European lives, four priests, a number of
lay brothers, and several Portuguese soldiers who had instructions to
discover a route leading to Prester John and India.
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

From the departure of Rui de Sousa for Portugal in 1495 until

1505 or 1506, when Afonso succeeded to his father's ivory seat, little
is known of the progress of events in the lands of the Manicongo.
Portugal herself in the last decade of the fifteenth century was pre-
occupied with other problems, and relations with a primitive African
kingdom were largely forgotten. In 1495 Manuel, O Venturoso, came
to the Portuguese throne, and with the voyage of da Gama at the end
of the century, the attentions of the new monarch were attracted by
the more brilliant promises of Indian commerce. The absence of an
official Portuguese population in the Congo, save for the few priests
and explorers left behind in 1492, was a misfortune in Portuguese
policy which was partly responsible for the ultimate failure of the
Congo experiment. Certainly it contributed to the creation of condi-
tions there which were to bedevil the black and white inhabitants of
the region for a long time. In the absence of fortress, factory, or royal
representative in the Congo, the Portuguese residents of the newly
populated Sâo Tomé island (a strange mixture of religious exiles,
criminals, and adventurers) began about 1500 to exercise their trading
prerogatives along the southern coast. Since Sâo Tomé had no native
labor force to work the incipient sugar plantations, this trade was
mostly in slaves. Not much later Sâo Tomé became the slave center
for the whole lower Guinea coast and the Congo. T o protect the
supply of workers and expand the traffic in slaves, the Portuguese on
Sâo Tomé quite naturally sought to fill the vacuum of Portuguese in-
fluence in the Congo, to the detriment of relations between Portugal
and the African kingdom.
A second result of Portugal's temporary abandonment was a period
of internal strife within the region. After his impulsive acceptance of
Christianity, the African chief Joâo, encouraged by a second son and
royal advisers, lapsed into his tribal habits. The monarch seems prin-
cipally to have been exasperated by the restraints of monogamy. In his
disaffection with European ways, Joâo turned against his son and heir
apparent, Afonso, and expelled him to the province of Sundi. Into
exile with the young prince went two of the Portuguese priests. The
priests, harried by royal antagonism, had been able to make little
progress with the Congo people and concentrated their attentions on
Afonso, his chosen friends, and his mother Leonor. Success rewarded
their efforts when Afonso, despite his younger brother's militant op-
position, succeeded to his father's throne.
The long reign of Afonso I, Christian king of a pagan land, repre-
sents the golden age, from a European point of view, of the Congo.
"Never again will an African kingdom," observes R. E. G. Armattoe,
 T H E CONGO EXPERIMENT

"exhibit so much refinement and so much grace. The lessons of its

fall," he adds, "must be a warning to all Africans to eschew the out-
ward manifestations of an alien civilization. A civilization to endure
must be founded on the sound foundation of native institutions and
must fulfill the legitimate aspirations of its people." 5 Whatever the
causes for the failure of a Christian Congo, few may be attributed to
the aspirations of Mbemba-a-Nzinga, Afonso I. Ten years of Portu-
guese clerical instruction had produced more than a superficial imitator
of European ways; they had created a man whose counterpart may be
found in some of the Oxford-educated African princes of the twen-
tieth century. Afonso's contact with his own traditions was broken,
but his opportunity to change the customs and destiny of his own
people was destroyed by one of the side effects — the slave trade — of
the civilization he had accepted. Afonso was also more than an igno-
rant princeling in the hire of the Portuguese. One of the earliest ex-
amples of Portuguese success at assimilation, the young king was a
Christian, versed in the foreigner's language, and familiar with Portu-
guese history and traditions. His reign was marked by a steadfast,
though frustrated, dedication to bring the benefits of a European
civilization to the Congo. His greatest flaw was a naïve refusal to be-
lieve that some Portuguese were able to betray the virtuous principles
he had been taught to hold. A memorial to the unhappy monarch is
the statement of the famous nineteenth-century missionary to the
Congo, Father Antonio Barroso: " A native of the Congo knows the
name of three kings: that of the present one, that of his predecessor,
and that of Afonso." 6
Events in the Congo from the beginning of Afonso's reign until
1512 were characterized by the intrigues of the donatàrio (propri-
etary landlord, or lord proprietor) of Sâo Tomé, Fernào de Melo, and
by the immorality of the second group of missionary priests sent out
in 1508 at the request of Afonso. Commercially, the Congo had be-
come a dependency of Sâo Tomé, and it was with Femio de Melo that
Afonso was obliged to treat, unaware, perhaps, that Melo represented
his own interests, not King Manuel's. There was little else Afonso
could do in his isolation; his letters to Lisbon were frequently de-
stroyed at Sâo Tomé, his messengers were delayed or turned back or
even taken into slavery. Nor was the example offered by the mission-
aries of 1508 such as to impress either the Portuguese or the Africans.7
Afonso received the thirteen or fifteen priests with jubilant plans for
educating and evangelizing his people, but a number of the fathers,
succumbing to the moral and physical climate of the capital, found the
buying and selling of slaves, in some cases with funds given them by
!4 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

Afonso, more lucrative. Instead of living together in the large resi-

dence prepared for them, each set himself up in private quarters, one
with an African mistress by whom he had a child. Others complained
about the conditions surrounding them and demanded to be sent home,
and only a few remained in the Congo, where the last member of the
group died in 1532.
Against this background and in response to the complaints of
Afonso, King Manuel moved to salvage the situation. He had com-
posed an unusual document which has been widely interpreted as one
of the theoretical cornerstones of Portuguese colonial policy. This
regimentó, or set of instructions, consisted of thirty-four points, in
none of which is there a suggestion of authoritarian restraint on the
people of the Congo. The man bearing the regimentó, Simäo da Silva,
was to be roughly the equivalent of adviser to or resident officer in
the African court and supervisor of Portuguese action there.
The regimentó covered four areas of instruction. The first con-
sidered the help and advice Simäo da Silva was to give to Afonso in
the organization of his kingdom, and it is this section that the Portu-
guese hail as a case in point for their sixteenth-century efforts at cul-
tural assimilation. Simäo da Silva was to teach the Portuguese manner
of conduct in war and justice, and for this purpose he was accom-
panied by a scholar with the code of Portuguese law. On points of
conflict between African custom and Portuguese law, Simäo da Silva
was to try to explain and then yield if necessary. He was to describe
the organization and procedures of the Portuguese court down to the
matter of table service. In local wars he was at liberty to assist the
king when there appeared to be no danger of heavy Portuguese casual-
ties. Churches and residences were to be built under his supervision.
In all matters he was to move with tact and discretion, to offend no
one, but to create where possible an African parallel to Portuguese
society.
The second group of instructions was meant to assure the mis-
sion's success and to counteract the harm that had been done in the
previous decade. Manuel placed control of the Congo's Portuguese
community in Simäo da Silva's hands. He commanded the people ac-
companying da Silva to live in peace with the Africans and avoid in-
cidents; those who disobeyed were to be punished, although in all
matters of misconduct, the Portuguese reserved extraterritorial priv-
ileges. Priests were to live together and to refrain from accepting
money from Afonso. Those who abused the native population were to
be sent immediately to Lisbon. Simäo da Silva was also to survey the
religious situation in the Congo and force all priests who had not con-
 T H E CONGO EXPERIMENT 15
ducted themselves decorously to return home. Any slaves they pos-
sessed were to be sent to Portugal on another ship at the owner's ex-
pense!
The last two sections of the regimentó demonstrated Manuel's
practical nature, for herein he was concerned with commerce and
geography. The resident officer must explain to Afonso "as honestly
as he could" that it would be a pity for Portuguese ships carrying ex-
pensive cargo and personnel to depart from the Congo with empty
holds. What assistance Manuel had rendered, to be sure, "was the re-
sult of the love of one king for another and for the honor and service
of Afonso," but Manuel would not be disappointed to see his ships
come home loaded with slaves, copper, and ivory to defray the ex-
penses he had voluntarily shouldered. So that there should be no mis-
take, da Silva's responsibility to obtain some form of payment was
repeated three times in the regimentó and a royal factor was sent to
the Congo. Finally, the resident was to obtain all the geographical
and political knowledge possible of the area: the Congo and its source,
the size and spread of the population, the military strength and loyalty
of the petty chiefs, the centers of trade and communication. Manuel
and his advisers were not yet willing to put aside the possibility of a
trans-African route to the lands of Prester John and the East.
Having disposed of the order of business, the Portuguese monarch
invited Afonso to send an embassy of a dozen noblemen and their at-
tendants to Portugal, whence they would be dispatched with all honor
at Portuguese expense to Rome for an audience with the Pope. The
embassy would include Afonso's son Henrique, already in Portugal.
Thus, suggested Manuel, would the Christian faith be propagated
more readily in pagan lands. He did not suggest that Portuguese pres-
tige in Rome would be further enhanced by the appearance of the
mission.8
Viewed superficially the document seems to offer no more than
the trappings of a European court in exchange for slaves, and it is at
once apparent that Manuel hoped to perpetuate an alliance which, al-
though it promised little, at the same time would cost him little. But
in considering the course of events in the Congo from the hopeful
beginnings in 1482 and realizing that the abuses associated with the
Sâo Tomé slave trade could still in 1512 have been checked, one is
forced to speculate on what might have been. It is difficult to envision,
given the assuredly primitive nature of Congo society, the complete
projection there of European civilization, but it is entirely consistent
with the terms of the regimentó and with the character of Afonso to
see the establishment of a Portuguese protectorate which, with
16 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

thoughtful assistance and guidance, could have fulfilled the aspira-

tions of both monarchs for the gradual transformation of Congo soci-
ety. Such assistance implied, however, a disinterested investment of
men and authority far greater than Portugal was prepared to give,
concerned as she was with the exploitation of the East. And so what
might have been — the creation of a Europeanized community within
the framework of an African national state—-became instead the
frustrated strivings of an African chief, against the opposition of
Portuguese freebooters and against a strongly dissident element in his
own people, for the attainments of a European culture.
The failure of the regimentó, which is the high point of official
policy in the Congo, to achieve its purpose and the dissipation of sub-
sequent opportunities were mostly caused by Portuguese indiscipline.
Even if Simäo da Silva had not died of fever shortly after his arrival
at Pinda, his instructions vis-à-vis the Portuguese there were probably
doomed to failure in the absence of means to implement them. By the
time he had reached the Congo, intrigues having their origin in Sâo
Tomé, which was determined to protect its slaving monopoly, had
created such an atmosphere of hostility toward him that he feared to
leave his ship and sent a physician as his representative to Afonso.
The chief, apprised of the scope and nature of the embassy, attempted
at once to throw off the burdensome influence of Captain General
Melo, asking da Silva to proceed with all haste to Mbanza to punish
his arrogant countrymen. Simäo da Silva perished on his trip through
the interior.
Alvaro Lopes, the factor appointed by Manuel to represent royal
commerce in the Congo, carried the title of succession, but a delay
between the time of da Silva's death and the arrival of Lopes' ship
gave the Portuguese at Mbanza a chance to solidify their position.
Lopes, short-tempered and direct in his dealings, was within a year
compromised and forced to leave the realm, and the regimentó was
of course ignored. Priests traded in slaves; others, in spite of Afonso's
protests, kept African mistresses. A revolt among some slaves being
taken to Pinda for export caused smoldering resentments to flare up.
In desperation, Afonso directed a long letter to Manuel wherein he re-
viewed the plots and disturbances caused in his kingdom during the
last eight years by unruly Portuguese profiteers and slave trade agents
from Sâo Tomé. Naively he suggested that he be given jurisdiction
over the island. Again he pled for more priests and teachers. In his
final lines he wrote, "And we beg Your Highness not to leave us un-
protected or allow the Christian work done in our kingdom to be lost,
for we alone can do no more." 9
 T H E CONGO E X P E R I M E N T I 7

Disappointed with the results of his correspondence with the Por-

tuguese court, the black king began to emerge as a more independent
— and isolated — ruler. The privilege of appointing the Portuguese
resident adviser remained his, which gave him control over at least one
segment of the white population in the Congo, the partisans of the
resident. There was no inclination in Portugal to discourage this
tendency toward independence from Portugal's guidance. Where
Manuel had made distracted attempts to maintain friendly relations
with Afonso, Joâo III — who ruled after 1519 — paid him little heed.
West African policy now centered on the island of Sâo Tomé, whose
administration had been taken over by the crown in 1522. Its pros-
perous sugar plantations, its safe haven for Indies ships, and its grow-
ing importance as the leading slave entrepôt on the African coast gave
the island economic advantages the Congo kingdom did not have. In
1534 the town of Sâo Tomé was made a city and the seat of a
bishopric.
In the early 1520's the resident officer Manuel Pacheco was
Afonso's strong right arm. He restrained the more extreme behavior
of the Portuguese, and he fostered the chief's spirit of self-reliance.
Afonso's letters to the Lisbon court became less pleading and humble,
more formal and forceful. Apparently it was with the advice of
Pacheco and another resident adviser, Gonçalo Pires, that Afonso
took a small step to control the slave trade, convinced now that Joâo
would not intervene. Twenty-five years of slaving, during most of
which Afonso had innocently inflamed Portuguese desires by his
lavish gifts of slaves to Manuel and his subsidy to the missionaries (the
slaves being a form of currency), 10 had left their mark on the Congo.
The traffic was causing revolts and fears of depopulation. Traders and
their agents in the interior paid no heed to Afonso's authority and
cared little whether their purchases were captives of war or the chief's
subjects. T o protect his own people Afonso in 1526 set up a slavery
commission of three chiefs to ascertain whether Negroes shipped from
the country were in effect captives and not free men.
In the same year, 1526, Afonso directed another letter to Lisbon
asking for fifty missionaries.11 Six of the fathers, he hoped, would be
from the same order which had educated his son Henrique, now
Bishop of Utica and Vicar Apostolic of the Congo. Henrique had re-
turned to his father's land in 1521 after thirteen years in Europe.
Through Manuel's perseverance, Pope Leo X reluctantly elevated the
young African to the office of Bishop of Utica in partibus infidelium,
setting aside the canonical age limit. The appointment was a political
stratagem, but with his consecration in Lisbon in 1520, Henrique be-
18 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

came the first — and the last — Negro bishop in the Congo. He re-
mained an auxiliary, however, to the Bishop of Madeira, receiving his
instructions through Sâo Tomé. His role in the evangelization of his
people was insignificant. Constrained by his father from leaving the
capital, he was a witness to the laxity and selfishness of the white
clergy, whose scorn he suffered. In the middle iJ3o's Henrique died,
a useless product of Afonso's vanity and two nations' aborted hopes.
The creation of a bishopric in Sâo Tomé was viewed as an insult
by Afonso, although there was no justification for a bishopric in the
Congo, and spiritual subordination to the hated island was cruelly felt.
The years since the death of Manuel had brought many disaffections,
of which this was but one more. One remnant of former amity re-
mained, however, as Portugal continued to educate the young sons of
Congo chiefs. For their instruction the historian Joáo de Barros com-
posed a Portuguese grammar. T h e scholars' passage to Lisbon was not
always without interference at Sâo Tomé, whose desire, even now as
a crown colony, was to keep the Congo as nothing more than a ware-
house for slaves: some students disappeared, others were put ashore
along the coast, and others were delayed. A number of the Africans
educated in Portugal remained there, one as a distinguished teacher of
Latin and rhetoric; most returned to their country to take their places
in the oppressive artificial environment of Mbanza.
The last decade of Afonso's reign drew to a close amid complaints
and corruption. Afonso, now old, forgotten by Europe and isolated
from his people, became tired and discouraged, more interested in the
affairs of his vanity than in his country. T h e Portuguese, with their
celebrated adaptability to any culture or climate, lingered in that
backwater of imperial design, quarrelsome, meddling, scheming for
the king's favors and attention. H o w many Portuguese resided in the
Congo in the 1530's, for example, can only be estimated. Probably
there were never more than two hundred white men there, enjoying
an influence out of all proportion to their number. Their mulatto chil-
dren became functionaries, agents of the slave trade, lesser members
of the clergy. Children of two worlds, they paid allegiance to neither
and were as responsible as their fathers for the constant turmoil that
beset the Congo. After a five-year absence Manuel Pacheco had re-
turned in 1 5 3 1 , but he was unable to cope with the resurgence of
factionalism. In the stale abandoned world of the Congo which gave
little opportunity for valor or ambition, the Portuguese plotted for or
against Afonso, keeping his kingdom in a state of artificial frenzy. 1 2
Manuel Pacheco, Alvaro Peçanha, Gonçalo Nunes Coelho all ap-
pealed in vain to Joâo III in Portugal. T h e y swore that troubles with
 T H E CONGO EXPERIMENT 19
the African population rested in the egotism and greed of the Portu-
guese, and they advised their king to replace every civil and religious
officer in the Congo kingdom. For all of their flaws the European
clique around Afonso made his last years less fretful. In them he found
support to turn aside Lisbon's half-hearted efforts to explore the
Congo and look for metals, development projects which did not
coincide with the Manicongo's own plans. Also the Europeans helped
the great chief extend the limits of his kingdom in the name of Chris-
tianity — and for themselves, in the name of slavery. T h e tensions
built up in these chaotic years, however, were to explode in the years
to come when the patient restraint of Afonso had disappeared.
In the early 1540's Afonso died. The facts of the succession are
clouded, although it was attended by a violent struggle between
Afonso's son Pedro and Diogo, one of the chief's nephews. Pedro be-
came king, enjoying the support of the Europeans who had held
Afonso's favor, but he could not command the loyalty given his
father. In a short time around the figure of Diogo there emerged an
embittered opposition of jealous Portuguese and Africans hostile to
the old order. T h e accumulation of ill-assorted resentments burst
forth in a bloody revolt which resulted in the flight of Pedro and the
usurpation of his throne by Diogo. Pedro, from the asylum of the
church where he stayed until his death in 1566, made representations,
through his partisans who had taken refuge in Sâo Tomé, to the Pope
and Joâo III, both of whom, if they were at all aware of events in the
Congo, observed a discreet neutrality. From 1545 Diogo was the ef-
fective ruler of the Congo. The years of his reign were to begin the
final decline of the Portuguese policy of maintaining, in theory at
least, the independent integrity of the Congo and were to see the
emergence of Angola as the area of principal Lusitanian interest.
T h e situation by 1545 defied solution and Diogo, although im-
pulsive and arbitrary in many of his actions, was usually a puppet in
the hands of his advisers. The issue of slavery daily grew more trouble-
some. In the early years of the century the donatario of Sâo Tomé had
enjoyed exclusive slaving rights in the Congo, but gradually his agents
were replaced by permanent Portuguese residents of the Congo, who
penetrated all parts of the interior inciting wars and purchasing sub-
jects from the Manicongo's petty chiefs. The chaos resulting from the
competition was such that once the Portuguese king's authority was
established on Sâo Tomé and the traffic became a royal monopoly to
be let to slaving companies, Afonso and Pacheco attempted to control
the export of slaves for economic and demographic reasons. 13 Because
of these measures, and others taken in the next fifteen years, the local
2O PORTUGUESE AFRICA

traders and their half-caste sons resented Afonso and his advisers.
When the opportunity came, they strongly supported Diogo, hoping
once more to establish free trade in the interior. T o a large extent they
attained their goal.
In March 1548, the first Jesuit mission, three priests and the lay
teacher Diogo de Soveral, set foot on the bank of the river, bearing
a letter of recommendation to the African chief. With their usual
energy they set about the task of housecleaning: 2,100 baptisms were
recorded in the first four months; three churches were erected, one of
which, dedicated to the Savior, gave the capital city of Mbanza its
new and permanent name of Säo Salvador; Master Soveral was busily
educating six hundred children in different schools. But the Jesuits
were less successful in bringing a moral order to the Portuguese com-
munity; on the contrary, it was not long before some were contam-
inated by the prevailing morality and frictions. Father Jorge Vaz in
his first years of residence collected sixty slaves for embarkation and
sale. The Jesuits also made the mistake of siding with the camp of the
deposed Pedro and wrote Joäo that evangelization was impossible
until Diogo was replaced. In an atmosphere of antagonism their work
was of little profit, and by 1552 the first Jesuit mission had departed in
failure.
T h e i55o's in the Congo kingdom were enlivened by bickerings
and violent reprisals. T h e governor of Sâo Tomé in a long letter to
Joäo III upbraided Diogo and his court for abusing the Jesuits and
robbing slave dealers, and he urged the Portuguese king to declare
an economic boycott of the river. Diogo replied that the Jesuits were
guilty of loose conduct and of outraging his royal dignity by calling
him an ignorant dog. 14 A second Jesuit mission in 1553 fared as badly
as the first. The priests found that Diogo, following the example of
many Europeans, had surrounded himself with concubines and
showed other signs of reverting to pagan ways. Without royal sup-
port — Diogo forbade his subjects to attend Jesuit schools or churches
— the missionaries could do little and withdrew in 1555.
In the last years of Diogo's life the Congo moved still further from
the orbit of Portuguese influence. The ingrown clique of black,
brown, and white inhabitants, having thwarted all efforts to curb
them, brought the Congo to its period of greatest isolation since the
voyages of Diogo Cäo. Joäo III, who in later life seems to have suf-
fered mild compunctions over his previous neglect of the region, sug-
gested to the aged stalwart Manuel Pacheco that he might be able to
bring harmony to the Congo. Pacheco hesitantly accepted the com-
mission, but when he reached Sâo Tomé and was told of the vindictive
 T H E CONGO EXPERIMENT

regard in which he was held by Diogo and his own countrymen, he

realized that there was nothing he could do and went no further.
T h e death of Diogo in 1561 produced a bloodbath greater than the
one which brought him to power, as the Congo community turned
on itself again in the battle for succession. T h e reign of the heir ap-
parent, Afonso II, an illegitimate son of Diogo, was brief. He was mur-
dered by his brother Bernardo while attending Mass. From the subse-
quent confusion, in which black and white citizens perished with
surprising lack of discrimination, the same Bernardo emerged as su-
preme chief. During the civil war, the Congo was closed to ships from
Sâo Tomé, and the slave trade passed openly to Angola.
Its violence spent, the kingdom of the Congo entered into a peace-
ful period in the 1560's which was no more than a lull before the final
storm. Bernardo, with the white population now diminished and
apathetic, ruled reasonably and tranquilly, having only occasional dif-
ficulties with the Europeans. He exchanged friendly notes with the
Portuguese crown and showed himself amenable to permitting ex-
ploration for copper in his territories. Bernardo probably died in battle
against the rebellious Anzicos in 1567. T h e following year the can-
nibalistic Jagas, 15 in company with the equally ferocious Anzicos, de-
scended upon the Congo. T h e new king, Alvaro, the chiefs of the
land, and the Portuguese community fled before the host to the safety
of Hippopotamus Island (sometimes referred to as Elephant Island)
in the middle of the river. From there Alvaro sent a courier to young
Sebastiäo of Portugal for assistance. Sebastiäo responded with unusual
speed, sending in 1570 Captain Francisco de Gouveia and six hundred
men. He joined forces with the exiles and during the next two years
the combined army drove the Jagas from the land. Afterwards
Gouveia built a strong wall around the city of Sâo Salvador. In grati-
tude for the restoration of his kingdom, Alvaro formally acknowl-
edged vassalage to the king of Portugal. He agreed to send tribute
each year of one fifth of the yearly collection of cowrie shells, the
currency of the realm which could always be exchanged for slaves.
Even though Sebastiäo answered graciously, advising Alvaro only to
be a good Christian, by this symbolic act the first and most significant
period of Portuguese Congo history came to a close. T h e Congo king-
dom retained its theoretic independence and was not formally an-
nexed to Angola until 1883.
Except for furnishing slaves and a field for missionary activities,
the Congo was gradually eclipsed by the rise of Angola in the last
quarter of the sixteenth century. Alvaro directed a continuing flow of
ambassadors to the Cardinal Henrique and Philip II of Spain and
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

Portugal, among them the redoubtable Duarte Lopes, first celebrated

explorer of equatorial Africa, 1 6 asking for missionaries in return for
mining concessions. In 1584 three Discalced Carmelites arriving in
Sâo Salvador found there four priests and an inadequate clerical staff,
all ignorant and corrupt. In spite of their warm reception by Alvaro
the Carmelites were convinced by the spiritual poverty of the city,
the destruction wrought by constant slaving, the tenacity with which
the majority of the Africans clung to their own beliefs, and the climate
that the task was a hopeless one. T h e y withdrew in 15 89.
In 1596 Sâo Salvador was hopefully raised to the rank of city and
made the seat of the bishopric of the new diocese of the Congo and
Angola, but even this recognition did not halt the decline. B y 1615
most traces of Christian life had disappeared; the white population
had died, fled, or been absorbed. T h e Congo chiefs became more and
more despotic and the unity of the kingdom crumpled. Sao Salvador
was a deserted city in 1690, its twelve churches in ruins, its walls and
fortress in ruins. By the middle of the nineteenth century there was
scarcely a trace to be found of Portuguese civilization and no mark
of their sovereignty.
In such a manner one of the unique European experiments in
Africa petered out. Although in the sixteenth century a policy of
colonization meant not much more than the evangelization of a
heathen people, the story of the Congo, even in its failure, stands for
more. It stands for the pacific good intentions, seldom realized, of the
Portuguese crown, and it stands for the faith of an African chief in his
alliance with a European power. For eighty years the paramount chief
was political ruler of his kingdom with authority which frequently
extended over the Portuguese residing there. Portuguese intervention
was officially limited to commerce and religion; if these activities more
often than not merged with political matters, the fault lay more with
the African king and his chosen Portuguese advisers than with crown
policy. There is no suggestion of official Portuguese tyranny or occu-
pation during these years. T h e original desire of Portugal to create a
civilized African state contiguous geographically with the illusory
Ethiopia of Prester John went by the boards, but the Portuguese pro-
fess that more lasting values were created in the Congo. As a result of
the entry of white traders and settlers there emerged in the sixteenth
century a bi-racial community. The practice of easy assimilation with
the African, which was to continue in other parts of the continent for
four hundred years, is one example of why, the Portuguese maintain,
even today they enjoy a comparative lack of racial tensions in their
African colonies.
 T H E CONGO EXPERIMENT 23
In conflict with the practice of assimilation and with the willing-
ness of the Portuguese king to accept his African counterpart as a
brother was the Congo slave trade. " A t the side of the missionary who
carried salvation," Father Barroso lamented, "was the buyer of men
who destroyed the ties linking father to son and mother to daugh-
ter." 17 T h e degradations and frictions arising from the slave trade and
the demands of the empire in the East, which distracted Lisbon's in-
terest from the Congo in the crucial years of the Portuguese-African
alliance, were responsible for the failure of the experiment. Without
encouragement and moral authority, it succumbed to the purely ma-
terial exploitations which have so often characterized the presence of
Europe in Africa.
 II

M O C A M B I Q U E AND T H E TRADITION

I N sharp contrast with the shape of events in the Congo king-

dom was Portuguese activity on Africa's east coast. Frequently his-
torical currents in Portugal's African provinces east and west have
failed to run parallel, although Portuguese presence in both Angola
and Moçambique has been generally characterized by a decline from
early promise into a protracted state of neglect and confusion. The
reasons for the divergence of interests in the two colonies are neces-
sarily complex, but the principal factors have been, as one might ex-
pect, geographic and economic. Angola, forty to sixty days across the
Atlantic from Brazil, early in its development became the Black
Mother, supplier of slaves for three centuries to the American planta-
tions. Its political orientation was toward Brazil. Slavery in Moçam-
bique, although the bête noire of David Livingstone, never achieved
Angolan proportions. The Portuguese in East Africa were originally
concerned with the promotion and protection of trade in the Indian
Ocean and with the pursuit of gold and silver in the mines of Manica.
Their political orientation was toward India — even after the final
collapse of the eastern empire. The relation of the Portuguese forts,
most of them north of the present Moçambique-Tanganyika frontier,
and settlements to Indian commerce points up the political implica-
tion absent in Angola, that the Portuguese in East Africa were for al-
most two hundred years in military and commercial conflict with the
Arab city-states. T o a lesser extent, the nature of the native popula-
tions and the emergence of the Zambezi prazos also gave Moçambique
a different character. The first century of occupation saw in East
 MOÇAMBIQUE AND THE TRADITION 25

Africa the formation of the traditional mold of Portuguese expansion

in the East: the establishing and fortifying of points along the coast
for the protection and dissemination of trade. Where satisfactory al-
liances could be made with local leaders, the Portuguese eschewed the
use of arms; defiance, on the other hand, was met, where feasible, by
a show of strength and a puppet king was set up to protect the in-
vader's interests.1
T h e continuity of expansion along the African west coast which
had led Diogo Câo to the Congo and beyond was unbroken. Shortly
after Cäo's return in i486 from his second expedition, Joäo II pressed
the search for the continent's end with greater haste. A year later a
fleet of three vessels under the command of Bartolomeu Dias sailed
from Lisbon. B y early December of 1487 Dias had reached Walvis
Bay and had by the end of the month sailed beyond Elisabeth Point.
In the following days, out of sight of land and possibly driven by
storms, he rounded the Cape of Good Hope. When, by sailing north-
ward, the ships made land again, they were in the vicinity of Mossel
Bay. Here the company rested and replenished the water supply. At
Algoa Bay the protests of the crew, exhausted by hunger, grew so
vehement that Dias agreed to proceed only several days more, after
which he reluctantly turned the prows of his caravels southwest. On
the return voyage they passed within sight of the redoubtable prom-
ontory so long the object of Portugal's aspirations, to which Dias gave
the name Cape of Good Hope.
Nine years passed before another expedition set forth from the
Tagus. The strange lapse of time must be explained by a number of
reasons, chief among which is probably the long delay in Lisbon's re-
ceiving information on the fate of an overland mission to India by
Pero da Covilhä and Afonso de Paiva, who had left Portugal at the
same time as Dias' expedition. Covilhä reached Calicut, possibly re-
turning to Cairo by way of the east coast of Africa. From Cairo
Covilhä sent his king a report which made abundantly clear the
wealth of the East, the extent of trade in the Indian Ocean, and the
ease of navigation from the southeast coast of Africa to India.2 With
this intelligence Joäo's successor Manuel ordered a fleet of four ships
to be made ready. In the selection of commander, Bartolomeu Dias
was passed over in favor of Vasco da Gama. 3 In July 1497 the small
fleet sailed.
The captain reached Moçambique harbor early in March 1498. For
several days the sheik of the island — which was under the suzerainty
of the sultanate of Kilwa — apparently thought the Portuguese were
some sort of Moslem traders, while da Gama believed that the island
26 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

population was a neo-Christian community. But both illusions were

soon dispelled, and by March 27, when favorable winds permitted the
European ships to depart, the town had been raked by Portuguese
cannon.4 Further up the coast, at Mombasa, negotiations again began
auspiciously, if hesitantly, although there is reason to believe that the
ruler of Mombasa, apprised of the flare-up at Moçambique, intended
harm to the Portuguese fleet. In any case, after an initial exchange of
presents and representatives (the Portuguese sent two convicts with
some beads) the situation deteriorated. A n Arab attempt to sabotage
da Gama's ships failed, and the captain sailed north to Malindi, cap-
turing a loaded dhow along the way. In spite of da Gama's continuing
high-handed manner — he held an official messenger hostage in order
to obtain a pilot to guide him across the Indian Ocean — Malindi was
favorably disposed to European presence, either because of her ani-
mosities against Mombasa and Kilwa or her fear of superior Portuguese
arms. The town proved Portugal's only consistently loyal ally on the
whole coast during the sixteenth century. Da Gama visited the harbor
again on his homeward voyage and was able to carry to King Manuel
protestations of friendship from at least one East African principality.
As for other Arab cities, da Gama's belligerent behavior, which ran
counter to sixty years of Portuguese policy on the west coast of
Africa, partly counterbalanced the remarkable nature of his achieve-
ment and stirred up needless antagonisms.
Only in that area of the interior of Moçambique lying behind the
coastline from Sofala to Quelimane did the Portuguese make substan-
tial contact with the black African population during the sixteenth
and seventeenth centuries. For the rest they were dealing with a coastal
people, Arab or Swahili. The Moslem sphere of influence extended as
far south as Sofala, although scattered trading settlements existed in
the hinterland. Some of the main towns on the eastern fringe were
Mogadishu, Pate (Patta Island), Malindi, Mombasa, Pemba, Zanzibar,
Kilwa, Moçambique; such travelers as Ibn Batuta have recorded their
prosperity and beauty. Da Gama spoke of the fine stone houses and
the air of elegance in the local courts and markets. B y all accounts it
was a world comparable, if not superior, in material culture to Portugal
in 1500. Political unity among these city-states was a transitory bur-
den. Each fiercely defended its own political and commercial inde-
pendence and at no time did there exist an East African nation or em-
pire, although the stronger towns dominated or influenced their
neighbors at certain times in their history. Mombasa, Mogadishu, or
Pate held sway over their neighbors, and at the moment of Portuguese
entry into the Indian Ocean, Kilwa was mistress of the lands and com-
 M O Ç A M BIQUE AND THE TRADITION 27

merce to the south, including the vital Sofala gold trade. Portugal was
able in part to exploit the differences between the Arab communities,
but she was also to discover that in their latent hostility to the Euro-
pean interlopers there was strong unity.
In 1500 the origins of Arab dominance reached more than a
thousand years into the past, and Arab captains probably traded the
East African coast centuries before that. Evidence is constantly ap-
pearing to show that the trading civilization of East Africa was a very
old one and penetrated much deeper into the interior than has been
supposed. From the eighth century on, the area was progressively
peopled by Arabs and to a lesser extent by Persians; later an Indian
immigration added to the cosmopolitan complexion of the coast. The
Swahili community probably formed the bulk of each city's popula-
tion, although political administration remained in the hands of an
Arab aristocracy which imposed its religion and a variation of its lan-
guage. The management of much of the commerce in the cities seems
gradually to have passed into the hands of the Indian residents; in the
interior, Swahili merchants — traditionally referred to as Arab traders
— carried on most of the trade. East Africa itself was commercially a
part of the mercantile complex of the Indian Ocean, and the Arabs
thrived in their role as middlemen who brought the products of India
and the Middle East to Africa. These manufactured goods (cloth,
metal, adornments) were traded primarily for ivory, gold, and slaves.
Local manufacture or large-scale agriculture held little interest for
the Arabs, who found it more profitable to send their dhows to the
trading emporia of the Indian Ocean. Their caravans penetrated the
continent regularly in search of slaves — some of whom were shipped
to points as distant as China — but their influence on the African tribes
of the interior usually decreased in ratio to the distance from the coast.
The northern frontier of modern Moçambique is Cape Delgado,
which has roughly demarked the extent of Portuguese authority in
that direction since about 1700. But even earlier Cape Delgado repre-
sented a symbolic point on the East African coast: to the south the
Portuguese, having made Moçambique island their source of power,
brought under their domination the Arab population all the way to
Sofala; to the north the Portuguese were never able, either through
their steadfast alliance with Malindi or through the construction of
the massive Fort Jesus at Mombasa, to impose a lasting control; and
by 1700 a resurgence of Arab power had effectively eliminated Portu-
guese traders and soldiers from the score of coastal towns in which
they had tenaciously, if intermittently, held sway.
One of the facts of the Portuguese empire in the East is that East
28 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

Africa played at all times a secondary role in it, and this may be one
reason why the Portuguese still retain the province of Moçambique
and very little else of their former eastern possessions. North of the
Rovuma River along the coasts of Tanganyika, Kenya, and southern
Somalia, present-day traces of Portuguese influence are slight: Fort
Jesus, the remains of smaller forts, and the memories of crooked little
Portuguese Street in Zanzibar. Portuguese contact with the pattern of
life here was superficial, maintained only by passing carracks and
coasters and by small detachments of traders and garrisons of soldiers.
N o real attempts at settlement were made, and the Portuguese popula-
tion north of Cape Delgado was always smaller than south of it.
Portugal derived little profit from her tenure, but what she did ac-
complish was to destroy once and for all most of the prosperous and
lively Arab city-states which she found there.
With the dispatching of the 1505 fleet to India, twenty-three ships
under Francisco d'Almeida, Portuguese policy was directed toward
the establishing of commercial monopoly in the Indian Ocean.
D'Almeida's orders called for a factory to be built at Sofala to manage
the flow of gold — which had already reached fantastic proportions in
the Portuguese imagination — from the "mines of Ophir." Kilwa and
Mombasa were to be subjugated and all Arab shipping, save that from
Malindi, driven from the seas. D'Almeida attacked Kilwa on a pretext,
and the fortress of Santiago was built there and garrisoned. Mombasa
was bombarded, burnt, and pillaged. As a result of d'Almeida's voyage
along the East African coast, the two pillars of Arab authority were
split, but hostilities were created which were to plague the Portuguese
for the next two hundred years.
B y 1 5 1 0 hardly a town along the coast failed to acknowledge
European supremacy. The quick success of Portuguese arms, how-
ever, had created a surprising spirit of resistance. The fortress at
Kilwa had to be abandoned after seven years of Arab hostility and
boycott. B y 1528 Mombasa had regained so much of her former arro-
gance that the Portuguese once more saw fit to demolish the town.
N o r were the Portuguese able to guarantee their commercial monop-
oly. T h e Arabs preserved of their former trade a measure sufficient
for their survival, and a contraband commerce sprang up between East
Africa and India which the Portuguese captain at Malindi was unable
to suppress. A recognition of this failure was found in the Portuguese
policy to release certain areas and products of trade to Arab mer-
chants willing to purchase the rights.
But through most of the sixteenth century the Arab world in
Africa was never sufficiently strong or united to confront the Portu-
 MOÇ AM BIQUE AND THE TRADITION 2Ç

guese. N o r did the Europeans have the personnel or the inclination

to expand their control over the area. T h e king's representative at
Malindi collected tribute from the various cities and regulated com-
merce as best he could through his factors. In the 1580's a Turkish ad-
venturer, Mir Ali Bey, stirred his co-religionists at Mogadishu, Pate,
and Mombasa to rebellion. Only through a large punitive armada from
India and a temporary alliance with the Zimba, a Bantu people who
had stormed their w a y northward to the gates of Mombasa, were the
insurrectionists put down and Mombasa once more devastated.
T h e episodes of the 1580's convinced Portugal that Moçambique
island was too distant and Malindi too weak to exert effective domina-
tion over the coast, so in 1593 Fort Jesus was constructed at Mombasa,
which now became the administrative center of the north in place of
Malindi. The building of Fort Jesus brought a temporary rash of
activity in adjacent ports. Zanzibar boasted a larger European popula-
tion than ever before. Pemba and smaller towns developed a flourish-
ing exchange of products, and African staples like slaves and ivory
found their w a y to India with regularity. T h e first thirty years of the
seventeenth century were probably the period of greatest Portuguese
solidarity in the area.
In the meantime the strength of the empire in the East was being
sapped by the English and Dutch, one of the factors making the
Portuguese position north of Cape Delgado untenable. The city-states
found an ally in the Oman Arabs who had recovered enough of their
former power to listen sympathetically to appeals from their East
African brethren. The half-century from 1650 to 1700 records the
vicissitudes of Moslem and Christian alike. T h e struggle was nearlv
equal, and had it taken place a hundred years earlier Portugal would
have prevailed. N o w she had neither the ships nor her ancient vigor
to cope with the constant pressure from the north and the scores of
revolts bursting like firecrackers at her skirts. At the end of the cen-
tury the thirty-three-month siege by an expedition from Oman rend-
ered Fort Jesus. Help from Goa was not sufficient to save the fort, in
which about 2,500 Portuguese, Arabs, Swahili, and Indians perished
from disease and hunger, 5 and with the fall of Mombasa one of the
two bastions in East Africa was reduced (a Portuguese force briefly
held the fort from 1728 to 1730). Within a f e w years the remnants of
Portuguese authority were concentrated on the island of Moçam-
bique. From then on, as if by tacit agreement, Arab rule north of Cape
Delgado was accepted as supreme, and the Portuguese mandate to the
south was not seriously challenged.
30 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

Although factories were established at both Sofala and Moçam-

bique within seven years of da Gama's first voyage, Sofala, the gate-
way to gold, retained a more powerful hold on official imagination
during the first several decades of the century. Part of Francisco
d'Almeida's fleet of 1505 had paused there to construct a fortress. The
Portuguese convinced the sheik of the Arab trading village of the ad-
vantages to be gained from their friendship and protection; accord-
ingly, he granted them permission to put up a mud and wattle fort
and several houses for the king's officers and men. In the first months
of the occupation trade flourished, since the Portuguese cut off com-
munication with the Arab markets. Finally, the exasperated Moslem
traders prevailed upon the sheik to dislodge the intruders, bnt the
sheik fell leading an attack by a native army. A more reasonable man
was put in his place by the Portuguese.
The outpost consolidated its position in the next several years.
Under a series of energetic captains, the bulwarks were reinforced
with stone. A fairly steady movement of gold from the Manica mines
fed the aspirations of the slowly increasing European population, al-
though neither then nor later did the supply from the interior measure
up to the expectations of the crown, which was misled by such exag-
gerated accounts as those of Diogo de Alcovaça, a short-term visitor
to Sofala in 1506, and Afonso de Albuquerque. Even during the years
1 5 0 6 - 1 5 1 0 the receipts from Sofala scarcely sufficed to maintain the
fortress with its unnecessarily large administrative personnel and con-
stant demand for outside provisions. When the interior was peaceful,
Arab and Swahili traders from Manica and Mashonaland made their
way to the coast; but frequently tribal wars prevented their passage.
Other Arab merchants, their trade withering under the close control
exercised by the Portuguese at Sofala, sought to bypass their once
prosperous port. An enterprising sheik of the Angoche Islands set up
a new line of communication with the interior. He sent his boats
down the coast and up one of the mouths of the Zambezi; some leagues
up the river, the goods were transhipped to canoes, and from still
another point further upriver were carried by caravans into the lands
of the Monomotapa, paramount chief of the central area of Moçam-
bique province, for barter at a fair in one of the principal villages. The
king's factor at Sofala in 1 5 1 1 urged Manuel to stifle Angoche by a
strict blockade of that section of the coast; in this manner both the
Arabs and Africans would be forced to come to terms with Sofala.
T w o years later another factor, elaborating on the situation, tried to
impress upon the king that the supply of gold was not as great as had
been imagined, its sources scattered over a wide area, and that it was
 MOÇAMBIQUE AND THE TRADITION 3 I

certainly not sufficient for both Arab and Portuguese markets.® Such
negative reports, however, were not especially welcomed in Lisbon
and were seldom heeded.
The situation at Sofala became worse in the years from 1 5 1 0 to
1530. Sporadic attempts to suppress the smuggling from Angoche
failed. In back of Sofala the principal African chief imposed his own
blockade on the fortress, cutting off its communication in every di-
rection except the sea. Furthermore, Portuguese coastal vessels often
indulged in trade for their own purpose, not the crown's, a circum-
stance which further cut into the royal factor's business. In despera-
tion the Sofala factor in 1530 advocated the establishment of a supply
route from Malindi to Sofala using Arab ships. B y controlling the
price of Cambay cotton and beads in Malindi and ivory and gold in
Sofala, Portugal could, he argued, circumvent her subjects' dishonesty
and assure a fixed steady profit at little cost to herself. Such dealings
with heretics did not receive royal approval, but it is significant that
at an early date the Portuguese in the East realized their country's
commercial limitations. Later in the century, when the Portuguese
penetrated the interior, the trade in gold and ivory showed a relative
increase, and many of the spices sent from the East were paid for in
African gold. But even then the amount was disappointingly un-
certain.
In these years much of the knowledge of the hinterlands of Sofala
came as a result of the extraordinary journeys of Antonio Fernandes,
probably a convict left on the coast in 1505 by d'Almeida. Fernandes
made his way into the interior seeking information on the gold coun-
try. On two trips he explored the area roughly comprising the modern
district of Manica and Sofala and the eastern half of Southern Rho-
desia. Fernandes recommended that the Portuguese go up the Save and
Lundi rivers and establish a factory which would be in a position to
tap directly the gold fields of the Monomotapa. But Portuguese pene-
tration, when it came, was to be up the Zambezi, and for fifty years
the Save valley route remained untried. Like much of Portugal's
African exploration in the interior of the continent, Fernandes' effort
was an isolated incident, unrelated to any consistent program of dis-
covery or development. The only useful purpose these journeys and
others like them served was centuries later to bolster Portuguese claims
of priority in their abortive attempts to effect a territorial transcon-
tinental union of Angola and Moçambique.
That part of Moçambique visited by Antonio Fernandes was in-
habited by the Makalanga, with whom the Portuguese had more con-
tact in early centuries than they did with any other Bantu people. The
3 2 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

Makalanga in 1500 had come to the lands between the Save and the
Zambezi comparatively recently, probably from northwest Rhodesia,
and had incorporated their predecessors in the area or pushed them to
the south, as the Makalanga themselves were to be assimilated or dis-
placed by the Barotse in the eighteenth century. The various tribes
forming the Makalanga Community were in a frequent state of unrest
in one part of the country or another. T h e Portuguese entertained an
exaggerated notion of the extent of the power of the paramount chief
of the Makalanga. This ruler they termed the Monomotapa, and his
residence was held to be in the neighborhood of Mount Darwin. T h e
actual political state of the region seems to have been that the chiefs of
the various tribes acknowledged the religious suzerainty of the Mono-
motapa, but were far from being his vassals.
Although the Portuguese persisted in trying to establish relations
with the current Monomotapa for evangelical and commercial reasons,
for the most part they dealt with lesser tribal leaders — at Sofala,
Sena, Tete, or the outposts they occupied elsewhere. These relations
were usually rudimentary, the payment of subsidies for trading rights
or a small percentage of the commerce passing through the chiefs'
domains. Except for several large military expeditions into the back-
country, the Portuguese were content to put conquest or occupation
to one side and save their arms and energies for the more formidable
Arab foes to the north. When it was to their advantage the captains at
Sena or Sofala would intervene in tribal struggles, but never in the
sixteenth century did the Europeans exert the influence in Moçam-
bique that they did in the Congo. It was really not until the late nine-
teenth century, when possession of Africa was held to be occupation,
that Portugal made a determined effort to implant her rule in the
backcountry.

In spite of the fact that Sofala, until the emergence of Sena on the
Zambezi in the 1530's, was the nearest port to the most productive
region of that part of Africa (and the only part where Portuguese
traders moved into the interior), Moçambique island rapidly became
the center of Portuguese authority below Cape Delgado and was, in
fact, the most constant center of administration in all of East Africa.
Although it is one of the anomalies of Portuguese overseas history
that the town of Moçambique should have maintained itself for so
many centuries as the isolated capital of the colony, reasons for its
importance in the sixteenth century are obvious: the island was a
favored port of call for Indies shipping and was closer to the Arab
 MOÇAMBIQUE AND THE TRADITION 33

cities to the north. In 1507 the captain at Sofala, Vasco Gomes de

Abreu, carried out his instructions to build a permanent post at
Mocambique, which was to consist of a factory and fortress and a hos-
pital for the sick arriving there on the transocean carracks. Moçam-
bique became the most important point of call between Lisbon and
India. Here the Sofala gold and ivory were transhipped to India and
from here the Portuguese attempted to curtail Arab coastal shipping
north and south. A t the beginning, a tame sheik was left in nominal
power over the local community, but as the town's importance in-
creased, his token office disappeared and the captain of the fortress
assumed full responsibility for local as well as imperial matters.7
With Hormuz and Malacca, Moçambique island was one of the
key bastions of Portugal's far-flung mercantile empire. Yearly ships
from the Indies fleet rode at anchor in her harbor; through the port
passed viceroys, convicts, poets, stray foreign visitors, all drawn east-
ward by the lure of sudden fortune. A f e w stayed in Moçambique,
some to die of malaria and others to swell the European population
which came to leave its impress on "this most Portuguese of colonial
cities." As investment in the East developed so did Moçambique in
the first half of the sixteenth century. The island port generally pros-
pered as a depot for men and goods and became the center of a local
trade from which the Portuguese in the Indian Ocean derived more
profit than they did from the commerce between the East and the
metropolis. The captaincy of the island fortress became one of the
plums of the colonial service. Originally trade was handled by the
king's factor, who had his agents selling the royal treasury's goods
wherever possible to the African people. Later the captain received
privileges of trade in certain products or areas not reserved by the
crown, and finally the whole area of Zambezi trade was delivered
over to the captain of Moçambique for a certain (usually quite high)
sum on his taking office. In return the captain assumed responsibility
for the maintenance and administration of the fortress and for the pro-
tection of the people on the island in case of famine or inflation in
food prices — events of some frequency since the island was far from
self-sufficient, as shown by the frantic pleas sometimes sent to Lisbon
for shipment of provisions by the next annual fleet. The practice of
leasing the trade monopoly (at times the treasury reverted to its
earlier practices of working exclusively through its factor) resulted in
considerable scandal and charges of dishonesty, but no fewer charges
were made against the factor and his agents in their day. Into the
storehouse of the island were piled the beads and cloth for the Bantu
trade; beside them lay the gold, ivory, and ambergris for the markets
34 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

of Goa or the holds of the Lisbon-bound liners. In other arsenals were

the ships' supplies, arms, and provisions.
The captaincy at Moçambique, for both its commercial and mili-
tary implications, was an important one. The distance of Moçambique
from Goa and Lisbon increased the autonomy of the commander, but
his authority was not without checks and balances. He held office
under the jurisdiction of the Indian viceroy, as did the captains at
Hormuz, Ceylon, and Malacca. On some matters of administration he
was obliged to act in consultation with his subordinates and others of
the king's officers, such as the factor or magistrate. His political and
judicial powers were circumscribed by the regimentó and he was re-
quired to submit periodic reports to the viceroy and the Indies Coun-
cil in Lisbon. Generally, the captains were chosen from men with
years of military or administrative experience in the empire, although
such caution sometimes resulted in an efficiency in corruption as well
as in administration. The indiscriminate accusation of dishonesty
against Portugal's officials in the East is a commonplace of that nation's
colonial history, but such accusations have been sometimes motivated
by the desire to find a scapegoat or convenient excuse for the decline
that occurred, and in the sixteenth century one may find examples of
the disinterested official, like Diogo de Almeida, who refused honest
profit, saying that his honor forbade him to make money at his coun-
try's expense.
Because of the nature of the occupation of Moçambique province
in the first seventy years the captain had no influence over the African
population except at points of contact along the coast or in the bush.
He was instructed to respect the rights of the African chiefs, espe-
cially those who from time to time proclaimed themselves vassals of
the Portuguese king. The reality of Portugal's tenuous position in
Bantu Africa carried more weight than royal instructions, to be sure,
but the intent of the crown was still manifestly clear: its representa-
tives should attempt to work in alliance with African leaders and not
pursue a policy of terror or extermination. When in the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries this official attitude was overridden by the
tyrannical plantation owners of Zambézia,8 it was partly the result of
the diminishment in Lisbon's rule over the area and of a neglect similar
to that suffered in the Congo kingdom. And in Moçambique province,
Portugal's most durable African policy, miscegenation, was carried
out, in the absence of women from home, with the same ardor as in
the Congo.
By the middle of the century the island town of Moçambique had
achieved such importance that Dona Catarina, regent for her son
 MOÇ A M BIQUE AND THE TRADITION 35

Sebastiäo, resolved to implement her husband's plan for the building

of a massive fortress there. In the 1540's Joäo sent materials and stone-
masons to begin the work, but the project languished until ten years
later when the distinguished architect Miguel de Arruda — who con-
tributed to plans for the Escorial — arrived in Moçambique. For the
next forty years the great solid structure of the fortaleza Sâo Sebastiäo
was devised and armored into the impregnable bulwark that with-
stood the Dutch attack of 1607. Still in use today, the hulk of Sâo
Sebastiäo hovers in lonely fashion from its low white coral reef over
the peacock sea. Within its walls were quarters for a thousand men, a
gigantic cistern, a chapel, and a hospital; it was the most substantial
Portuguese monument in the East. Befitting the scope of the fortress,
the captain, or governor, as he was sometimes called, was granted
wider privileges and power. He was permitted a small portion of gov-
ernment profits in the ivory trade and instructed to prohibit competi-
tion in his territories by ships from India. He had a predominant voice
in the appointment of the captains on the Zambezi and at Sofala and
Malindi. His responsibilities also increased. A population of about one
hundred Portuguese grew to perhaps four hundred by the end of the
century. This figure was multiplied many times when a large fleet
wintered at the island before proceeding to India. The Portuguese, un-
dismayed by fevers, food shortages, scandals, intrigue, complaints,
made Moçambique town a rich bustling replica of metropolitan Portu-
guese towns.

In an effort to speed up the export of gold, the captain at Moçam-

bique in 1531 founded a Portuguese fair at Sena, where there already
existed a small Arab settlement. T h e town, now only a place-name on
the banks of East Africa's greatest river, prospered intermittently but
surely, and in the next two hundred years became the center of plan-
tation and colonization experiments along the Zambezi. A f e w years
later the town of Tete was created further up the river, some 260 miles
from the sea. In closer contact with the lands of Monomotapa and the
gold fields of Manica and Mashona, these two settlements supple-
mented with fair success the trade in gold that already trickled down
the Save valley into Sofala. At Massapa, southwest from Tete and not
far from Zimbabwe, the mysterious ruined stone city that sometimes
served as the great chief's capital, a Portuguese adventurer set himself
up about 1550 as a free-lance trader and adviser to the Monomotapa.
Taking advantage of his presence, the viceroy conferred upon him the
title Captain of the Gates (the gates being figuratively those to the
3Ó PORTUGUESE AFRICA

Mashona gold fields), making him a royal factor and the viceregal rep-
resentative at the African court. Through him Arab and Portuguese
traders paid duty to the Monomotapa's treasury. Antonio Caiado was
one of the first in a long line of frontiersmen who found it possible to
live and prosper independently among the Bantu tribes of Africa, the
most famous of the breed being the nineteenth-century explorer and
merchant in Angola, Antonio da Silva Porto. Caiado's success drew
several countrymen to take up residence with him, and the office of
the Captain of the Gates was passed down to numerous successors be-
fore it died out.
Still other small centers of trade, some ephemeral, others more
permanent, were founded in the first half of the century. In 1544 a
factory at Quelimane, a f e w miles inland from the coast, came into
being. In the same year Lourenço Marques skirted the coast south of
Sofala to Delagoa Bay where he made arrangements with the local
chief for regular visits by Portuguese coasters to buy ivory. Although
the present capital of the province bears Lourenço Marques' name,
no permanent settlement was made in the area until much later. In
like manner a desultory commerce at Inhambane was effected.
In 1568, Sebastiäo, moody, devout, and headstrong, ascended to
the Portuguese throne at the age of fourteen. Although he earned the
sobriquet O Africano from his ill-starred Moroccan campaign, Se-
bastiäo had a Rhodesian vision for southern Africa, the creation of a
vast domain stretching inland hundreds of leagues from the Indian
Ocean. Thus he conceived the idea of a large expeditionary force to
the kingdom of Monomotapa. The main goal was an eminently prac-
tical one: seize the gold mines and make them produce as the Portu-
guese imagined they should. A self-righteous justification was offered
by the murder of the Jesuit missionary Gonçalo da Silveira (whose
fate will be treated in a subsequent chapter) at the hands of the para-
mount chief. Such a departure from the traditional policy of peace-
ful trade through alliance with the chiefs of the interior aroused serious
opposition from a minority on the king's council. A legislative com-
promise was reached in the guise of an ultimatum to be delivered by
the leader of the expedition to the African king. The gist of the mes-
sage was that, in view of recent robberies and murders of Portuguese
subjects in his lands, not the least of whom was Gonçalo da Silveira,
the Monomotapa was requested to give free access to all Portuguese
traders and missionaries and to yield reparations for past injuries.
Since the presence of Arabs within his kingdom could only be con-
sidered prejudicial to Portugal's interest and inflammatory in their
influence, they should be expelled.
 M O Ç A M B I Q U E AND T H E TRADITION 37

T o present his complaint to the chief, Sebastiâo chose Francisco

Barreto, a former governor general of India. (Sebastiâo chose the op-
portunity to split his eastern government into three parts: the east
coast of Africa, the territory from Cape Guardafili to Pegu, and the
territory from Pegu to China. Each governor was to be supreme in
his own jurisdiction; in point of honor each was the viceroy's equal.)
Barreto had as his principal advisers the Jesuit Francisco de Mondaros
for affairs of the soul and a grand master of the Order of Santiago,
Vasco Fernandes Homem, for affairs of the military. One thousand
volunteers, many from the nobility, were provided for by a generous
grant from the royal treasury which was to be repeated each year
until the task was done. In April 1569 the first African army took
its thunderous leave from Belém bound for Moçambique.
Barreto did not set out upon his campaign immediately after his
arrival, and even though part of the delay was warranted by the
necessity for obtaining supplies, it still reveals the bad judgment that
had begun to mark his actions which was in a major sense responsible
for the mission's failure. He rejected his subordinates' insistence that
they should enter the backlands up the Save valley, and in November
1571 Barreto's fleet of small vessels left the shelter of Sâo Sebastiâo for-
tress for Sena. By the time the company reached the village, the rainy
season, with its oppressive heat, had descended upon the land. The vis-
itation of some eight hundred men on the tiny town, which boasted but
ten European inhabitants, created tremendous difficulties of supply
and transportation. Convinced that the fevers which were decimating
his men and horses were the work of Arab poison, Barreto called for
the shameless slaughter of the Mohammedan community. Many were
disposed of with delicate savagery on the ends of pikes or in the
mouths of cannon.
From Sena, Barreto sent an envoy to the Monomotapa asking for
an embassy to come to Sena to discuss matters of mutual friendship.
Unknown to Barreto, his man was drowned on the upper Zambezi.
Impatient after half a year's wait, Barreto decided to use his large force
to put down a rebellious chief, enemy of both the Monomotapa and
the Portuguese. Barreto's decision did not run counter to his regimen-
tó, but it did to sound judgment. His men routed the chief with few
losses, but the rigors of the march upcountry seriously diminished their
numbers.
On his return to Sena, Barreto found a large embassy from the
Monomotapa. He explained to them Sebastiäo's terms and left for
Moçambique to counter intrigues against him there. In May 1573 he
was back up the river, where only a handful of his men were able to
38 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

greet him. The magnificent corps, with its subsequent reinforcements

from India, was reduced to 180 men. Barreto himself died of fever and
exhaustion two weeks later. In spite of an encouraging reply from the
Monomotapa, Vasco Fernandes Homem, acting in consort with Father
Mondaros and the remaining officers, decided not to press the ad-
vantage, and the remainder of the expedition was evacuated.
In Moçambique the old soldier Homem smarted under the com-
ments of second-guessers on the failure of the famous expedition to
accomplish its purposes. Homem resolutely collected another army
of slightly more than four hundred men and in August 1574 departed
for Sofala. In the interior he discovered that the two dominant tribes
of the region were at war with each other. After several skirmishes
the Portuguese reached Manica where they encamped near the present
city of Umtali; here for the first time the Portuguese ascertained the
actual gold-producing possibilities of the area. Their conclusion, sub-
stantiated in later years, was that without machinery and skilled labor
the output of ore would be small. Homem concluded agreements with
the local chief for the free passage of Portuguese and African traders
before departing with those of his men not yet dead from malaria.
From Sofala, Homem went north to the Zambezi and up to Sena,
where he decided to track down the persistent rumors of the silver
mines of Chicoa. With a few reinforcements to fill the gaps in his
company, Homem marched along the banks of the river beyond Tete.
The silver mines did not come up to the usual naïve expectations, but
the governor had a stockade constructed to house the two hundred
men he intended to leave behind for further investigations. While
Homem returned to Moçambique, the entire garrison was destroyed
by African tribesmen. The fate of the two expeditions convinced the
crown, now engaged in preparations for the far more spectacular dis-
aster at Alcazarquivir, of the futility of trying to occupy the interior
of southeast Africa. Shortly thereafter, Moçambique was reduced to
its original status of captaincy under the thumb of India. Then, as
even now, the difficulties of terrain and disease along the Zambezi de-
fied the best efforts of Lisbon planners.
The most coherent source of information on life and customs —
African and Portuguese — in sixteenth-century Moçambique is still
Joâo dos Santos' Ethiopia oriental, published in 1609. Dos Santos was
a Dominican who was in East Africa from 1586 to 1597 and again in
the early seventeenth century. His impressions, recorded during the
decade of his first residence, spent mostly at Sofala although he visited
Zambézia and the coastal regions of the province, are remarkably free
from fanciful exaggerations. He wrote that Sofala was in the twilight
 MOÇAMBIQUF. AND THE TRADITION 39

of its importance. Its trade with the island of Moçambique was handled
by small native coastal vessels, manned by Swahili crew and European
officers. T w o villages, one Christian, the other Mohammedan, were
located near the fort. The Christian village had a mixed population of
about six hundred people. Zambézia was divided into four tribal do-
mains, usually at war with each other. T o the chiefs of these kingdoms
the Portuguese paid tribute or duty on goods. Thus the captain at
Sena was obliged to give a supply of cotton cloth and beads to the em-
bassy from the Monomotapa which visited the town with great flour-
ish every three years. Sena was the core of Zambezi trade, boasting a
fort, warehouses, church, and a population of perhaps fifty Portuguese
and seven hundred and fifty Indians, half-castes, and African slaves.
Tete was almost as large. In addition to its officials, some forty Portu-
guese and five hundred Asians and Africans resided there. The factor
enjoyed the protection of a Bantu guard of honor, two thousand
soldier-slaves presented to the fort by a generous Monomotapa after
a victory over a neighboring tribe. South and southwest of Tete in the
backcountry were three lesser factories at Massapa, Luanza, and Bu-
koto. At none of these outposts did the Portuguese have any influence
over the African villages save that granted by the African princes.
Dos Santos also gives a sketchy mineral survey of the territory some-
what less glowing than the reports Goa and Lisbon were accustomed
to receive.
The pages of the Ethiopia oriental contain an account of the rav-
ages by the Zimba who appeared along the Zambezi in 1570, one
large party of whom turned seaward and scourged the coast up to
Mombasa. Another group appeared soon thereafter and remained in
the vicinity of the river for years terrorizing the Makalanga. In 1592
Portuguese forces from Sena and Tete were routed in a savage en-
counter with the Zimba, and a punitive expedition from the island of
Moçambique met a similar fate the next year. In the last years of the
century Portuguese fortunes on the Zambezi were at their lowest ebb.9

In the seventeenth century the monopoly which the Portuguese

enjoyed in East Africa and the Indian Ocean was threatened and fi-
nally broken by Arab, Dutch, and English power. The Arabs, as we
have seen, reasserted much of their former influence north of Cape
Delgado. In the East, English and Dutch trading companies, encour-
aged by national policies of expansion, displaced or outflanked the Por-
tuguese in their once unique position as European middlemen in the
oriental trade. Only Moçambique remained firmly Lusitanian; so pro-
4o PORTUGUESE AFRICA

nounced was Portugal's decline elsewhere that the African province

was more than once referred to as Portugal's most prosperous colony.
It had the virtue of costing the crown nothing to administer and little
to protect. Its relative prosperity in the seventeenth century was partly
the result of a change in imperial policy which favored African inter-
ests more than previously and partly the result of a lack of interest in
the area by Portugal's adversaries. Even so, Moçambique did not es-
cape completely from the turbulence of the age. Increased activity in
the interior brought added tensions in relations with the African
tribes. And there were the Dutch.
The French and the Dutch were the first European nations whose
ships rounded the Cape of Good Hope in the wake of da Gama, but
their sixteenth-century voyages had little immediate effect either at
home or in the East. The Dutch presented the more serious challenge.
Denied access to Indian products by Philip of Spain when he took
over the Portuguese throne in 1580 and encouraged by the precise in-
telligence concerning navigation and trade in Indian waters gathered
by Jan Huyghen van Linschoten, the Dutch sent a fleet to the Indian
Ocean in 1595. There were other voyages, and the intruders were suf-
ficiently bold in 1604 to blockade the island of Moçambique and dis-
rupt coastal shipping. T h e impregnability of Säo Sebastiäo discouraged
a lengthy siege, but the next two attempts on the fortress were more
determined than the first. Eight Dutch ships arrived under the island's
guns in March 1607. T h e Dutch entrenched themselves on the island
and called upon the fortress to surrender. Malaria came to the aid of
the Portuguese, and after six weeks of bombardment and insult, the
Dutch withdrew. Before the inhabitants could repair their damaged
town, a still stronger Dutch fleet of thirteen ships and possibly two
thousand men under Pieter Verhoeff entered Moçambique harbor in
July 1608. The second siege, similar to the first but marked by need-
less Dutch atrocities, was no more successful, and in the latter part of
August, Verhoeff ordered his ships to weigh anchor. In 1663 a fourth
futile attempt was made to capture Säo Sebastiäo. 10
Moçambique island was not alone in her troubles. The whole Zam-
bezi region was in turmoil from 1590 through the first two decades of
the seventeenth century. A spate of African tribal disputes broke out,
in which the Portuguese participated, either for political advantage or,
as sometimes happened, against their will. Also, the Portuguese had
fallings out among themselves as a series of royal edicts created a triple
split of authority placing the viceroy at Goa, the captain at Moçam-
bique, and the captain at Sena frequently at odds with one another.
These squabbles were symptomatic of the confusion in Lisbon as to
 MOÇAMBIQUE AND T H E TRADITION 4I

the real nature of the African colony and of a general Portuguese de-
moralization in the East. The prevailing unity of purpose characteriz-
ing most of the sixteenth century, when the Indian Ocean was a Portu-
guese sphere of action, disintegrated. Latent jealousies and corrup-
tions, once subordinated or minimized in the course of a concerted ex-
ploitation of new-found worlds, now became vitally disruptive factors.

In 1608 Philip III, blinded by the glitter of gold and silver that
streamed from the American mines and deluded by a recent sample
of ore of high quality from Africa, decided to organize another ex-
pedition to extract Zambezi silver. The goal was again the alleged
mines of silver in the vicinity of Chicoa, and the enterprise seemed
sensible enough at the time if one overlooked the empty consequences
of the Barreto-Homem expeditions. The moment was certainly au-
spicious. For fifteen years the Makalanga had been embroiled in wars
during which much of the Monomotapa's power had been vitiated.
The intervention of the captain of Tete, Diogo Sim oes Madeira, and
other traders on behalf of their sometime ally — an intervention pri-
marily to re-establish the security of trade — caused the grateful chief
to cede to Madeira territories in the neighborhood of Tete and to grant
Portugal mineral rights throughout his kingdom in return for con-
tinued European support. T o bind the bargain he entrusted two of his
sons to Madeira to be educated in the Christian manner at Tete.
Against this background King Philip reorganized the colonial ad-
ministration. In a letter to the viceroy of India he ordered that a
"Captain General of the Expedition" be named to supersede the cap-
tain at Moçambique. The appointee was to be supreme in southeast
Africa and to name all regional officers. K e y fortresses along the coast
as well as in the interior were to be constructed or strengthened. The
captain general was to dedicate his full energies to the pursuit of gold
and silver; he was not to meddle in the Monomotapa's government,
which might involve him in the distractions of African politics. The
acting governor of India, Archbishop Menezes, was unable in those
critical times to muster the five hundred men demanded, but he dis-
patched one hundred men under the command of Nuno Alvares
Pereira.
On his arrival in Tete the new captain general appointed Diogo
Madeira his field officer in charge of the mines operation. On his first
journey to the Monomotapa, Madeira accomplished little except to
help the African king complete the suppression of some troublesome
tribes. Questions about the location of the mines were met with vague
42 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

gestures toward the horizon. Madeira returned to Sena to find that

Nuno Alvares Pereira had been replaced by Estavlo de Ataíde, de-
fender of Moçambique against the two Dutch attacks in 1607 and
1608. Ataíde ran into immediate difficulty with the Monomotapa, who,
seeing himself entrenched in power once more, demanded his tradi-
tional tribute for trading rights. Ataíde was unwilling and unable to
meet the demand, and the chief ordered all Portuguese goods in his
kingdom confiscated. Annoyed by the breach of faith, Ataíde made
plans to take the mines by force, but before the expedition could be
made ready he was called in 1612 to Moçambique island to reinforce
the depleted garrison there. When he returned to the Zambezi, a shift
in policy brought him orders to report to India; again the Chicoa cam-
paign was delayed. Diogo Madeira was left in charge, although not
with the full powers of his predecessor, for complicated political ma-
neuvering had resulted in the return of civil authority in southeast
Africa to the hands of the Moçambique captain. Ataíde died in Mo-
çambique before he could be tried for what Philip held to be his in-
effectual action.
Diogo Madeira persisted in his pursuit of the mines. In 1614 he
erected twin fortresses — one on either side of the Zambezi — at Chi-
coa. He obtained several weighty specimens of ore which he sent to
Lisbon by two separate couriers. 11 But the antagonisms of various
merchants and officials at Sena and Moçambique and the many difficul-
ties of maintaining the stockades forced Madeira to give up the proj-
ect. Philip's advisers, however, were still intrigued by the chances of
African gold and silver and set up a governorship of the lands of the
Monomotapa, subservient to Goa, but holding jurisdiction over Mo-
çambique. In the game of musical chairs, the office fell to Nuno Al-
vares Pereira, who was entrusted with the usual elaborate unrealistic
instructions for developing silver production. Pereira did his best, but
he obtained nothing of value. In 1622 the viceroy was told to drop
the project, and the administration of Moçambique reverted to its cap-
taincy status.

The Chicoa silver hunt illustrates how poorly prepared was Mo-
çambique province for imperial exploitation on a grand scale. Malaria,
unrest among the Africans, dispersal of authority, and the essential
poverty of the region conspired to thwart all ambitious plans for its
development. The most the Portuguese could hope for were the mod-
est gains from commerce set up in the sixteenth century and the con-
tinuing trickle of gold from Manica. Through the sale of offices,
 M O Ç A M B I Q U E AND T H E TRADITION 43

southeast Africa was a self-supporting and even modestly prosperous

community within the empire. The island had recovered from Dutch
devastations and was the most important Portuguese town in Africa
with a Christian population (white, black, and brown) of several
thousand and a fairly steady traffic through its port. Sofala, on the
other hand, had entered the long final stage of its decay. T h e factory
and fort remained for the export of gold, ivory, and ambergris, but
the European population probably numbered no more than ten souls.
Affairs on the Zambezi, after the recent frustrations, gradually took a
different complexion with the rise of the prazo, or plantation, system
and the influx of missionary priests. Sena boasted four churches in
addition to its official buildings and a white population of about fifty
people, a total that increased slightly. Tete had twenty residents in
the shadow of its fort and a great many more scattered in the sur-
rounding prazos. U p and down the river and in the lands of the
Monomotapa, traders, soldiers, and priests carried on a solitary ex-
istence, as did a few others along the coast. A fair estimate of the
Portuguese colony during this period would be one thousand people,
a figure which did not show much growth until the twentieth century
and even decreased from time to time.
Lisbon's discontent with the moderate profit shown by Moçam-
bique was reflected in decisions other than hapless silver chases. In
the early 1590's Agostinho de Azevedo submitted a proposal to the
king that Zambézia be thrown open to free trade — free, that is, to
Portuguese, not to Jews, Arabs, or Indians. He calculated that a
customs rate of 20 per cent on all traffic in the area would bring in
more money in six months than the sale of offices did in three years.
He assumed that with a free passage of goods, prices would decrease
and the indigenous inhabitants could be induced to work the supposed
mines. T h e king's council submitted the plan for the approval of the
viceroy and the governor of Moçambique, both of whom argued con-
vincingly to the contrary; a side effect, however, of Azevedo's motion
was an increase in the price of the Moçambique government. In an-
other attempt to stimulate commerce, Joäo I V , first king of the
Bragança line, which had replaced Spanish sovereignty in Portugal,
declared in 1643 that trade between Portugal and India, including
Africa, was open to all Portuguese; but entrenched interests prevented
the decree from taking effect. In 1671 a similar order concerning only
Zambézia came from Lisbon and met with the same objections. A
counterproposal, to which the crown assented, called for the creation
of a board of trade as an appendage of the royal treasury. Its seat was
in Goa with local governing boards at Moçambique and Sena. G o v -
44 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

ernors and agents of the board were to receive salaries for carrying
out all commerce in the area. Since the new organization had to buy
out the monopolies already granted to local captains, it began in debt,
from which it never emerged. Its administration proved costly and
cumbersome; the inexperience and corruption of some of its agents
responsible for buying and selling contributed to further inefficiency.
In 1680 the board was discontinued and the whole region given over
to free trade open to all Portuguese subjects in every part of the
world.
Customhouses arose at African ports of entry, and the new gov-
ernor of Moçambique was given additional men and authority to
collect the anticipated added revenue and to prevent smuggling. T h e
results were not altogether what had been expected. The queen regent
of Portugal in 1661 had given England a handsome dowry with the
hand of her daughter Catarina when the latter married Charles II;
these concessions included Bombay and the right of free trade in
Portuguese ports. The appearance of English ships along Moçam-
bique's coast in the 1680's, though infrequent, still placed Portuguese
merchants at a disadvantage, as in 1687 when four English vessels
bought most of the year's ivory output. T h e consequences of the royal
marriage, however, were felt more in another direction. With the
passing of Bombay, much of Portugal's remaining mercantile position
disappeared, and a number of Indian traders, generally referred to as
Banians or Canarins, when not called harsher names, were thus at-
tracted to Africa, where they gained a stranglehold on Moçambique
commerce. One of the clichés still current in Africa has it that the
only bush trader capable of existing on a lower standard of living in
a hostile climate than a Portuguese is the Indian. In eight years the
Portuguese merchant faced extinction, the market was glutted with
cloth and beads, and the price of gold had risen to unprofitable heights.
Heeding the local residents' desperate pleas for protection, Lisbon in
1690 placed a restriction on further Banian immigration and set up a
chamber of commerce to regulate the traffic of goods. The latter move
in effect canceled the decree of 1680, although by now a great deal
of damage had been done to the white Portuguese subjects of Mo-
çambique and a new element introduced into its population which was
to play an active role for a century.
From 1690 to 1697 efforts were directed to the formation of a
trading company similar to the ones operated so successfully by the
Dutch and English. The company was in part subsidized by the home
government, although shares were sold by general subscription. T h e
company was required to pay substantial sums to the royal treasury
 MOÇ A M BIQUE AND THE TRADITION 45

for the defense of India in return for a monopoly of trade along the
East African coast. A f t e r three years it collapsed because of under-
subscription of its shares and the commitments with which it was
burdened at birth. In 1700 the government again took over African
commerce.
In the middle of the seventeenth century another commodity
began to be exported from Moçambique, slaves. The Portuguese were
here carrying on a practice the Arabs had initiated hundreds of years
before them. From their earliest associations with East Africa, Por-
tuguese captains and settlers had acquired African slaves, usually as
gifts from native chiefs, and some had been sent to India, although the
custom was to keep them as servants and soldiers. N o w , however, a
small trade with Brazil developed which was to grow slowly and
fitfully until slavery became the principal commerce of southeast
Africa. Ultimately it would contribute to the scandalous conditions
of the nineteenth century and the final anarchic collapse of the whole
Zambezi basin.
The native policy of the Portuguese crown — if the standard in-
structions incorporated in most regimentos on how to deal with Afri-
can princes may be considered a policy — took on a slightly different
aspect in the seventeenth century, although it may have seemed a
problem in colonial dialectics to reconcile the earlier armed expedi-
tions up the Zambezi with the traditional orders not to disturb the
African's way of life. Certainly in the seventeenth century, when a
larger number of settlers and missionaries joined the traders and offi-
cers already resident in the province, it became more difficult to
comply with the spirit of royal dispositions. On the island, racial ten-
sions were less than at Sena or Tete, for here the Portuguese were fol-
lowing a pattern of physical and cultural assimilation established by
the Arabs, and much of the African or half-caste population adapted
itself to the habits of its new masters, although many, to be sure,
clung to their Moslem faith. The long history of this small com-
munity has been one of relative tranquillity in comparison with other
parts of the province, even if still today the African there, in the
majority, has not attained that degree of Europeanization of which
the Portuguese boast.
On the Zambezi and in the lands of the Monomotapa where the
Portuguese, in order to exist and carry on trade, were forced to deal
with local chiefs, the course of native affairs took another turn. Un-
questionably in the sixteenth century they sought nothing more than
to be permitted to trade and search for gold in peace, paying tribute
where necessary and allying themselves with the strongest African
46 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

leaders for the protection of themselves and their business. In this

they were not as skilled as the Arab, and there evolved a tangled
skein of complications which were to plague life on the Zambezi
until the present century. The Portuguese never had sufficient num-
bers in the region to implant their authority solidly, appearances to
the contrary, and in many respects their increased numbers in the
seventeenth century did more to compound the confusion than lessen
it, since the area of friction with the African likewise increased. The
prazero demanded laborers or slaves for his estates, the missionary
sought converts among a people whose enmity often forced both to
fall back on the use of arms. The material and spiritual inducements
offered the African were seldom sufficient to win him over to the
Portuguese cause; indeed the history of the Zambezi is more the
history of the African assimilating the Portuguese than the reverse.
Had not the African chiefs dissipated their strength quarreling among
themselves and had not the converted Monomotapa given away his
lands and people, it is not likely that the Portuguese could have sur-
vived the seventeenth century in the interior. That they did is more
evidence of their tenacity than of their tact or the success of their
colonial policy.
The whole population of Zambézia — trader, settler, missionary —
was involved in the disputes of 1628. On the death of the Monomo-
tapa, a son, Capranzine, had attained the chieftainship of his lands.
Hostile to the Portuguese and jealous of the attentions given his
nephew Manuza by the Europeans, the new king declared himself
dissatisfied with the trading arrangements in his realm and ordered
an embate (a combination blockade and warfare) and laid siege to
several fortresses in the interior. T o meet the attack, the Portuguese
gathered together their private African armies and the tribes loyal
to them and drove Capranzine deep into his kingdom, whereupon
Manuza was proclaimed the new ruler. In the following year, Manuza
formally put his mark on a lengthy document pledging vassalage to
the king of Portugal; the agreement contained the customary promises
to give the white men free access through his kingdom, permission
for the construction of churches and missions, the expulsion of the
Arabs, and the renouncing of all claims previously deeded to the
captain at Tete. T o each new captain of Moçambique he was to send
three pieces of gold as token of his dependency on Portuguese arms.
Shortly afterwards, Manuza became a Christian, taking the name of
Filipe. For the first time in the history of the colony the Portuguese
had achieved an uneasy dominance over the largest of the Maka-
langa tribes.
 MOÇ A M BIQUE AND T H E TRADITION 47

In 1631 Capranzine united a substantial number of dissident chiefs,

including the paramount chief of Manica, and moved to retake his
former lands. In the course of his onslaught he killed two Dominican
priests and drove the rest of the Portuguese to the sanctuary of Sena
and Tete. The captain at Moçambique, aided greatly by the Domini-
cans in the field who regarded war against Capranzine as a crusade
for Christianity, got together a small army which dealt the pagan
chief a crushing defeat. N o w Manuza held his position more firmly.
Lisbon was elated at the good news and foolishly revived plans to
exploit the undiscovered mines, but the attempts were desultory and,
as usual, unsuccessful. T h e first practical results of having a puppet as
Monomotapa were a vigorous expansion of mission work and the
breakdown of African resistance. Individual Portuguese through gift
or purchase — but also as a result of bribes and threats — were able
to gain possession of vast tracts of territory along the Zambezi which
they ruled much in the manner of the lesser African chiefs they sup-
planted.
Manuza died in 1652 after a reign of twenty-two years in which
he served Portuguese interests faithfully, realizing that without their
support his tenure would have been uncertain. The rightful heir to
the Monomotapa's stool, the son of Capranzine, had long since been
carried to Goa where he entered the Dominican order; he died there,
vicar of the convent of Santa Barbara, the holder of a diploma pro-
nouncing him master in theology. The successor to Manuza in 1652
still held to his tribal religion, but under the guidance of missionary
fathers he embraced the faith of his predecessor (taking the name
Domingos), an event which caused rejoicing in Lisbon and Rome
where the Dominicans held services to celebrate the conversion. In
the next fifteen years, however, friction between the Monomotapa
and the prazeros developed over disputed lands which the planters
refused to restore to the African chief who claimed that they had
been wrongfully taken from him. In 1668 open warfare broke
out between Domingos and the now powerful land barons, in the
course of which the chief was assassinated by a subordinate in his own
army. T h e Portuguese replaced him with a relative thought to be safe,
but the young ruler showed an independence which was responsible
for renewed disturbances. He could not, however, weld together the
demoralized African peoples, the majority of whom either succumbed
to slavery or withdrew to parts of the country beyond Portuguese
penetration, where they continued to harass individual traders and
missionaries.
B y 1700 the colony of Moçambique had entered a stage of de-
48 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

cadence which was to last two hundred years. With the fall of Mom-
basa and the final passing of the eastern empire into alien hands, save
for such dispersed remnants as Goa, Cochin, Macao, the flow of
coastal and transocean commerce was considerably reduced, and the
province was removed from steady contact with India and Portugal.
A t the beginning of the century the garrison at Sofala was aban-
doned. Portuguese subjects at Sena and Tete and on the surrounding
estates lived in barbarically splendid isolation, squabbling with each
other and with the Africans, creating a half-caste community which
recognized no law but its own. Missionary services declined. In the
last part of the seventeenth century a trading post was established at
Zumbo far up the Zambezi on the present Rhodesian frontier, but its
active life was short, and it was soon to be forgotten like many of the
other smaller posts in the interior.
Portuguese imperial interests were now centered on Brazil whose
agricultural and mineral wealth promised a renaissance of Lusitanian
prosperity. India and Moçambique — Angola had value as source of
slaves — were an exhausting distraction of national energies. In 1752
the administration of Moçambique was definitely separated from Goa,
Francisco de Melo e Castro becoming the first governor of Moçam-
bique, Zambézia, and Sofala. One hundred and fifty years earlier such
a separation would have heralded a new phase of importance for the
African province, but now it was only another indication of the
fragmentation of the Indian Ocean empire and a belated attempt to
encourage the colony along the road to greater self-sufficiency. T h e
gesture meant little in terms of political result, and as one looks back
across the two and a half centuries from 1752 to da Gama's voyage
of 1498, one must conclude that tradition in Moçambique accom-
plished not much more than did experiment in the kingdom of the
Congo.
 III

A N G O L A T O 1858

.ALTHOUGH the history of Angola in its early years may be con-

sidered a part of Portuguese activity in the Congo kingdom, the asso-
ciation is marginal, and the area held interest only in terms of coastal
exploration and the projection of the Congo slave trade. N o t until
the foundation of Luanda in 1576 and the expeditions of that most
celebrated campaigner in Portuguese Africa in the sixteenth cen-
tury, Paulo Dias de Nováis, did the lands to the south become a
primary concern to the Lisbon court. For several decades thereafter,
a declining Congo and a rising Angola shared equally as centers of
Portugal's policy, but by 1600 the territory known as Angola had
emerged as the more important sphere of influence. In contrast with
her pacific policies of alliance and cultural assimilation in the Congo,
here Portugal was disposed to implant her authority over the African
sobas, or chiefs, by force and to govern directly — a shift in policy
determined by various factors of which the two most important
were the absence in Angola of a supreme chief of the stature of the
Manicongo or Monomotapa and the need for military action to pro-
tect the blossoming slave trade. The first three centuries of Angola's
history, from about 1550 to 1850, is a chronology of small wars and
expeditions in the interior and of a dedicated commerce in black
humanity, most of it with Brazil, which made up more than four
fifths of total exports during this period. Angola still retains today
some of the harsh frontier aggressiveness that has characterized its
past and left its stamp upon the present; it is a quality which sets the
province immediately apart from the more leisurely, perhaps more
cosmopolitan, Moçambique. One of the most sparsely populated coun-
50 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

tries of Africa, Angola has not yet recovered from the terrible depre-
dations of tribal conflict and a slave trade that, by conservative esti-
mate, carried more than three million Negroes to the plantations of the
two Americas.
Diogo Cäo in his voyage of 1482 reached a section of the coast
below Benguela before his return to the mouth of the Congo. On one
of his several landfalls he put in at the site of the future Luanda, at
the time the center of the Manicongo's cowrie-shell industry furnish-
ing the coin of the great chief's realm. On his second voyage, Cäo
sailed the whole length of the Angola coast whose inhospitable ex-
panse seemed to hold little promise for exploration. In the early years
of the sixteenth century, ambitious merchants from Säo Tomé, dis-
satisfied with the Congo trade, made sporadic voyages to the island of
Luanda, although they gained little profit for their pains. Their ac-
tivity tended to increase after IJ12 when Manuel reserved for his
newly appointed factor the Congo slave trade, and more so after
1519 when another royal decree prohibited private vessels from
loading at Pinda.
The boundaries of the original lands of Angola are not definitely
known — nor were they in the 1500's. A fair estimate of the area
subservient to the Ngola (the dynastic title of the chief of the Kim-
bundu people inhabiting the region) would be the country lying be-
tween the Dande River in the north and the Cuanza in the south and
extending from the coast 1 back into the Dongo as far as the modern
city of Malange, although some scholars project the eastern bound-
aries all the way to the Cuango River. The Africans dwelling there
at the time of the Portuguese visitations were Southern Bantu people
who had moved into the area and formed one of several tribal divi-
sions.2 Over the petty chiefs of the Dongo country, nominally under
the thrall of the Manicongo, an invading chief from the lands of
Matamba (which lay to the west of the southern reaches of the
Cuango River) had gained dominance. This Ngola and several of
his successors continued to own informal allegiance to the Manicongo.
As was the case in the Congo, the Portuguese applied the name of the
local ruler to the country he governed.
In 1519 the Ngola, envious perhaps of the attentions received by
the Manicongo, asked Afonso to intercede on his behalf for an em-
bassy of Portuguese merchants and priests. Since the request was
transmitted to Lisbon along with a sample of silver allegedly from
Angola, Manuel decided to send several representatives to evangelize
the people and search for metals. T o lead the expedition he chose
Manuel Pacheco and Baltasar de Castro. The regimentó given them
 ANGOLA TO 1858 51
is typically Manueline in its careful considerations for the dignity of
the African chief. Pacheco was to pick up a priest at Sâo Tomé and
proceed to the Cuanza, exploring en route the coast south of the
Congo, where he was to remain with African hostages until Castro
had made his way to the chief's embala, determined the sincerity of
his request, and returned. Thereupon, Pacheco and the priest were to
go into the interior to carry on the search for souls and silver. If the
Ngola refused to treat with the strangers, Pacheco was to release his
hostages and discreetly retire, afterwards sailing along the coast to
the Cape of Good Hope, bartering wherever possible along the way.
T h e first mission to Angola was not a success, although it did pro-
duce an interesting consequence in the long residence of Baltasar de
Castro at the chief's kraal. Apparently the captain general of Sao
Tomé saw no reason to assist in implanting royal authority in lands
where he could trade freely for slaves, and he refused to give Pacheco
a priest to accompany him. T h e Ngola himself underwent a change
of heart, possibly because of the absence of any missionaries in the
Castro expedition, and refused to discuss his conversion with its leader.
Castro sent Pacheco a message explaining the present situation as well
as the apparent mineral poverty of the region. Pacheco, on receipt of
this information, disobeyed his regimentó b y sailing off without Cas-
tro; nor is there any indication that he fulfilled the instructions calling
for the coastal survey to the south. Baltasar de Castro, either by order
of the Ngola or a personal desire to continue the search for the mines,
stayed in the interior, where he became a hostage for the chief's de-
mands for a priest. A t last tired of his captivity, Castro in a letter pre-
vailed upon the Manicongo to send a missionary father. T h e para-
mount chief complied and the Ngola was duly converted, but Castro's
expectations were frustrated, for his captivity lasted until 1526 when
he showed up in Mbanza, tattered and gaunt. Although he brought
discouraging reports on the possible silver veins in Angola, Lisbon's
fancy had already been captured, and the legend was to be one of
the principal reasons for Portuguese expansion there later in the cen-
tury.
If in the next thirty years Angola was forgotten by the crown —
save for an authorization to Diogo do Soveral to explore the areas of
the Longa River — it became a battleground for local Portuguese
and African factions. The issue, as always, was slavery; the antago-
nists, Sâo Tomé and the Congo. N o t only did the Congo partisans
control the trade through the only legal port below the equator,
Pinda, but they also sent their agents deep into Angola for the pur-
chase of their product. T o break the double monopoly, officials and
52 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

merchants at Sâo Tomé intensified their own illicit traffic in Angola,

hoping to create a situation which would force the Portuguese court
to create a separate administration for the area. In the 1550's the cause
of the Sao Tomistas was joined by the Jesuits who, rebuffed in their
efforts to proselytize the Congo kingdom, sought other fields to con-
quer where they would have to face only the suspicion of the A f r i -
cans, not the hostility of their own countrymen as well. T h e y per-
suaded the governor of the island to send two missionaries to the
Dongo country for the conversion of the Ngola, who resisted both,
being now more interested in commercial dealings with the whites
than their religion. T h e new recognition paid the chief of Angola
wounded the vanity of the Manicongo and also drove the Portuguese
and half-caste community to the desperate measure of getting him to
attack his upstart vassal. Hence in 1556 a Congo army containing
Portuguese subjects marched to the Dande River and near the
modern town of Caxito was soundly trounced by an Angolan force
also containing Europeans. T h e Ngola, inspired by advisers from
Sâo Tomé, declared his independence of the Congo and sent the
appropriate embassy to Joäo III asking for missionaries. Ambassadors
from the Congo arrived to complain at the same time, a circumstance
causing Lisbon momentary perplexity; but, Joäo having died in 1557,
the Jesuits were able to convince the queen regent, Dona Catarina,
that the Society should be permitted to introduce into Angola the
zealous missionary work already so successful in Brazil. T h e Congo
ambassador could not forestall Catarina's decision; it represented the
effective beginning of official Portuguese policy in Angola.
The small expedition of 1560 to Angola was pre-eminently eccle-
siastical, a radical departure from previous policy which had viewed
the missionary as a subservient or at most an associate arm of imperial
design in Africa. Accompanying the four Jesuits (two priests and two
lay brothers) was a grandson of Bartolomeu Dias, Paulo Dias de
Nováis. He was captain of the caravela and a glorified tour guide to
see the missionaries to their destination; larger decisions were reserved
to the Jesuits. After their arrival at the Cuanza in May 1560, the Por-
tuguese party waited for the traditional welcome to the chief's em-
bala, some sixty leagues in the interior (in the vicinity of Ambaca),
but they received instead disquieting reports from Portuguese residing
there. Sensing that this advice was not altogether altruistic, Dias, after
a five-month delay, during which one father and a number of sailors
died of fever, undertook the journey inland. T h e moment was indeed
not favorable. The chief had recently died and been succeeded by
Ngola Mbandi, who looked upon his visitors with suspicions un-
 A N G O L A TO 1858 53

doubtedly implanted by Congo slave traders. He turned aside sug-

gestions of immediate conversion and sent all the Portuguese (some
thirty-odd) except, Dias, Father Gouveia, and two other men, back
to their ship. Whether the chief held the four men as hostages for
further commercial relations or was merely displaying royal caprice
is uncertain. After undergoing initial discomforts and brutalities, Dias
and Gouveia were treated more tolerantly. Gouveia built a small
church in the village, which contained five to six thousand huts, by
his estimate; and Dias helped the Ngola gain victory over a rebellious
petty chief. B y 1565 Dias had so ingratiated himself that he was sent
to Lisbon with slaves, ivory, and copper. Gouveia, however, was not
permitted to leave and ultimately died a prisoner, albeit a very es-
teemed one whose life the Ngola tried to save through the ministra-
tions of his favorite witch doctors. T h e expedition had been a mani-
fest failure and dispelled any notions Lisbon may have had of pur-
suing a policy in Angola similar to the one attempted in the Congo.
The captivity of Dias and Gouveia was held to demonstrate a lack of
good faith which could be most suitably met by military occupation.
Dias arrived in Lisbon in 1567 to find the court indecisive on the
future direction of its African investment. T h e difficulties that beset
the Congo kingdom and the murder of Gonçalo da Silveira in Mo-
çambique indicated that a policy of hopeful temporizing and modest
missionary efforts would not further Portuguese interests in Africa
below the equator. On the other hand, the supply of slaves available
in Angola and the expectations of gold from the lands of the Mono-
motapa militated against the abandonment of either territory. A c -
cordingly, the ill-fated Barreto expedition up the Zambezi was con-
ceived and sent to southeast Africa. For Angola a different approach
was proposed, one which had already made Brazil the most prosperous
of Portugal's overseas dominions. Paulo Dias de Nováis, as a result of
the concerted Jesuit support, was granted in 1571 the donatâria (ter-
ritorial proprietorship) of Angola. By this move Lisbon hoped to bring
about the conquest, colonization, and evangelization of Angola at an
inconsequential cost. Through such a grant the Society foresaw an
extension of its authority in Africa comparable to the position which
it enioyed in Brazil as protector and guardian of the indigenous people.
T h e system of donatarios was a sixteenth-century colonial practice
having its origin in the medieval feudal organization of Portugal,
when the king, in the course of conquest over the Moors, gave juris-
diction over sections of the newly won lands to his victorious lords.
In the fifteenth century Prince Henry introduced the system into
Madeira for purposes of colonization; the prazo in Moçambique, and
54 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

its later-day derivation, the land company, were modifications of the

same system. The terms capitanía and donataria frequently have the
same connotation, although in many cases the captaincy implied only
an administrative jurisdiction over an area (as in Moçambique in the
sixteenth century) and carried with it no privileges of territorial pro-
prietorship. The proprietors favored by the crown accepted the re-
sponsibility to settle and defend the extent of their lands out of their
own pocket. In return they received administrative and fiscal author-
ity over the area. Usually the king reserved the monopoly of trade
in certain commodities such as, in Africa, slaves. Otherwise, trade
within the donatária was open to Portuguese subjects. The grant was
not always hereditary and on the death of the proprietor (or when
the terms of the grant had not been met) the donataria reverted to
the status of crown captaincy, administered by Lisbon through an
appointed captain general.
The title conferred upon Paulo Dias read impressively: "Governor
and Captain General of the Kingdom of Sebaste in the Conquest of
Ethiopia." Under the terms of his grant he received as hereditary
patrimony thirty-five leagues of coast south of the Cuanza and all
of the lands inland as far as he could possess. This land could be di-
vided into various parcels and rented or awarded by Dias, with the
stipulation that it should be cultivated within fifteen years or forfeited
to the crown. Dias was also awarded for his lifetime the governorship
of the lands between the Dande and the Cuanza and one third of the
king's income therefrom. Lesser privileges included the salt monopoly
and the untaxed export of forty-eight slaves a year. The governor
accepted as obligations: to take and supply a small fleet and explore
the coast to the Cape of Good Hope; to garrison his captaincy with
four hundred men including technicians; to bring into Angola one
hundred families, some of them farmers to whom he was to give seeds
and implements, within six years; to build three fortresses between
the Dande and the Cuanza; to build a church and take three priests
with him.
The terms of the grant were specifically concerned with a colo-
nization similar to that being carried out in Brazil. The questions of
slavery and mining are implicit in several of the instructions, but
what precisely Dias and the Society hoped for in Angola is not quite
certain. Dias had spent enough time in the area to be familiar with
its potentialities, as well as with its fevers and harsh terrain, and it
would be illogical to assume that he accepted the financial burdens
of the captaincy only for the sake of personal glory. He could not
 A N G O L A TO 1858 55
foresee, of course, that three years after his arrival he would become
entangled in local wars; these continued until his death in 1589 and
made impossible the success of any agricultural venture. Nor could
he foresee that one part of his company would return to Portugal
after the first glimpse of Angola and that another part would die of
fever.
The only significant deeds accomplished by Dias were the founda-
tion of the city of Luanda and several forts along the Cuanza. His
military campaigns accomplished less than they were worth in terms
of lives lost, and they had the effect of arousing the African popula-
tion against the Portuguese. The slave trade continued to expand, but
for such commerce the appointment of royal factors would probably
have been sufficient. (Feiner argues that the donatária was intended
by those who promoted it — the Society of Jesus — as nothing more
than a guise for the extension of their power in Africa by force of
arms and that, given these circumstances plus the geography and
native situation, the expansion of the slave trade was a logical se-
quence.3)
Dias spent three years in Lisbon accumulating the necessary funds
and personnel. The majority of his company, some four hundred men,
were soldiers and craftsmen; neither in 1575, when his fleet arrived
at Luanda island, nor later did Dias fulfill the requirement of settling
one hundred families in Angola. Dias found that the island was already
inhabited by nearly half a hundred Portuguese — agents from Sâo
Tomé or refugees from the Congo. Neither these men nor their com-
patriots scattered through the interior had much cause to welcome
an authority or restrictions they had come to Angola to escape. Never-
theless, on Dias' arrival many made their way to the coast to greet
him, dressed in forgotten finery and accompanied by their slaves and
half-caste sons. Shortly thereafter a large embassy from the Ngola
appeared to pay their chief's respects and renew the ancient friendship.
For three years Dias remained on the coast. In the middle of 1576
he moved his camp to the mainland and on the bluff over the sea
began the construction of Sâo Paulo de Luanda, erecting a fort,
church, and hospital. Meanwhile pressures on the captain increased.
The Jesuits complained that they were making little progress in their
evangelical work and accused Dias of being tender-hearted in matters
where the "best sermon was a sword and iron rod." Slave traders
fretted that the supply was never consistent and that frequent local
uprisings harmful to their business went unpunished. The murder and
robbing of Portuguese subjects by insurgent tribes in the interior
56 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

made it difficult for Dias to maintain that, in a country where the

Portuguese were militarily inferior to the Africans, the best policy
to pursue was one of friendship with the Ngola. Dias was also re-
minded of his obligation to build several fortresses and that he had
not yet investigated the tantalizing rumors about the silver country of
Cambambe (near the present town of Dondo). In 1579 Dias began
a slow peaceful advance up the Cuanza, his ultimate goal being Cam-
bambe. T h e Ngola, alarmed at the maneuver, which seemed to be a
threat to his kingdom, and probably influenced by jealous Portuguese
advisers, killed the twenty or more European traders in his kraal and
confiscated their goods. Dias withdrew with his men to Anzele (near
Caxito) where fewer than three hundred auxiliaries withstood an
attack from the Ngola's army. When reinforcements from Portugal,
requested the year before to aid in the occupation, arrived in Luanda,
Dias returned to the coast to organize a second expedition.
The proprietor of Angola was now committed to a campaign
which was to last ten years. Its only positive result was to raise Paulo
Dias de Nováis to the highest echelon of Angolan heroes, immortalized
in a dozen street names and commemorative stamp issues. His inner-
most point of penetration on the Cuanza was only a f e w leagues be-
yond the fortress of Massangano, about seventy miles up the river.
Intermittent successes in the vicinity of the fortress brought the local
chiefs under Portuguese rule, but Dias never had sufficient men to
inflict a crushing defeat on the Ngola and in a number of skirmishes
the governor's lieutenants were routed. Almost two thousand Portu-
guese were lost to fever or enemy spears during the ten years of his
governorship. Needless to say, the Jesuit fathers in Luanda, the most
persistent voices for an occupation of Angola, profited little from
the state of disorders prevailing in the 1580's; nor did the crown,
which, anticipating the discovery of silver at Cambambe, had sent
officers and engineers to organize the mines. Only slaving continued
to burgeon. Through capture, robbery, or trade with petty chiefs,
the Portuguese kept the caravans of humanity moving to the port of
Luanda.
On the death of Dias in 1589, his aide Luis Serräo succeeded to
his military offices. During his brief tenure, Massangano was made a
municipality with appropriate civil administrative officers; with Lu-
anda and Benguela the town was to be one of the three major points
of Portuguese occupation in the seventeenth century. Serräo died a
year later, after having failed in a fresh attempt to reach Cambambe.
A successor was elected, but in 1592 a governor general, Dom Fran-
 A N G O L A TO 1858 57
cisco d'Almeida, arrived in Luanda to supplant him and inaugurate
a new epoch in Angola's troubled history.

In the creation of a colonial government in Angola, a status that

has continued with almost no modification for three and a half cen-
turies, imperial counselors relied upon a report they had ordered made
in 1590 by the lawyer Domingos de Abreu e Brito. After visiting
Angola, Abreu e Brito made a number of recommendations consistent
with the situation there if not with Lisbon's ability to implement them.
He urged the methodical occupation of the region by a thousand men
to be recruited in Portugal, Sâo Tomé, the Congo, and Brazil, the
Brazilian contingent to be made up of five hundred Mamaluco (part
Indian, part Portuguese) criminals.4 Other recommendations were
that twelve fortresses should be built and staffed; Angolan campaign-
ers should be rewarded by the crown for their services as were those
who fought in North Africa; governors should be appointed in the
Congo, Luanda, and Benguela to carry out the king's design on these
three fronts; the governor, or viceroy, of Angola should be of illus-
trious family; and for moral supervision of the colony, the Inquisi-
tion should be introduced. T o facilitate communication with Moçam-
bique and India, Abreu e Brito revived the proposal of an overland
connection between the east and west coasts of Africa. His financial
proposals were a tightening of export control over slaves; freedom of
mineral exploitation, subject to payment of the royal fifth; a crown
monopoly of salt and pitch; expropriation of the Congo's cowrie-
shell fisheries; a factory to be put at Benguela for several years to
ascertain possible income from that quarter.
How seriously the crown attended to Abreu e Brito's master plan
is not definitely known but certainly the king's financial advisers were
not prepared to underwrite the initial cost of such an extensive pro-
gram, and it is unlikely that Governor d'Almeida's personal fortune
was adequate for the extensive task. But the possibility of silver was
attractive, and the governor was accompanied to Angola by four hun-
dred soldiers and fifty cavalry and, more significantly, by a mining
technician, a metal founder, a carpenter, and a blacksmith, whose col-
lective presence indicated serious intention to conquer and work the
mines of Cambambe. In spite of the success of Brazil's plantation econ-
omy in the sixteenth century, the Portuguese government remained
unconvinced that southern Africa offered the same opportunities and
clung doggedly to its hopes of uncovering a hidden wealth of precious
ore.
58 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

D'Almeida did not reach Cambambe. His overtures in that direc-

tion were cut short by disease and the enmity of the Portuguese lords
of the land, principally the Jesuits, who regarded the governor's pres-
ence as a threat to their own plans. Paulo Dias had made generous
grants of land, including the inhabitants thereof, to his lieutenants
and the priests. The Portuguese soldiers were busily engaged in slave
commerce, buying, or collecting as head-tax payment, the local chiefs'
people for export to Brazil; the Jesuits had thoughts of establishing a
theocracy in their territories. The conflict of interest was inescapable,
since any move that the governor made to implement royal authority,
no matter how trivial, seemed a curtailment of the license enjoyed by
the old inhabitants. T h e Jesuits and the conquistadores refused to be
despoiled of their hard-won gains. When d'Almeida fulminated against
their arrogance, the priests promptly excommunicated him. T h e fol-
lowing year, 1593, he was forced to retire from Angola.
T h e clash between entrenched interests and the vacillating policies
of the crown characterized at an early date a confusion of authority
and purpose in Angola which helped to blight the province's de-
velopment for the next three centuries. T h e African tribes existed in
a state of turmoil, resisting Portuguese intrusion and warring among
themselves. Neither the missionaries nor the governors, even when
working in accord, were strong enough to reconcile the diverse ambi-
tions of the Portuguese population. A succession of governors after
d'Almeida made a superficial peace with both the Jesuits and civilian
landholders — by making no serious effort to interfere with their pre-
rogatives — but their attempts to occupy the hinterland were almost
as inconclusive as those of Paulo Dias de Nováis. Another fortress,
Muxima, was erected on the Cuanza, and the Africans of that area
brought under Portuguese persuasion; penetration beyond was blocked
by the armies of the Ngola and his allies. In the middle of the 1590's
the population of Luanda was increased by twelve feminine immi-
grants from a royal orphanage, but their presence did not perceptibly
alter the social life of the growing frontier town of soldiers and ad-
venturers. Food was scarce, the climate debilitating, the Portuguese
chronically weak and sickly. T h e most common traffic in the streets
was half-naked slaves, many of them in chains.
T h e town's importance in 1602 was revealed in the instructions
given the incoming governor Joäo Rodrigues Coutinho, who was em-
powered by Philip III to bestow royal honors on the most worthy
citizens of the colony, the crown's first recognition in Angola of
services for the empire. Governor Coutinho could not have been un-
aware that the distribution of honors might make easier the fulfillment
 A N G O L A TO 1858 59
of two important tasks he had been given by the monarch: the supply-
ing of 4,250 slaves a year to the Spanish colonies in the N e w World
and the exploitation of the mines at Cambambe. T h e two projects
were related, since in the conquest of Cambambe one could assume
the capture of Africans to help meet the Spanish quota. What Cou-
tinho had been granted was a virtual monopoly on Angolan com-
merce, and to carry out his program he took with him the largest
force sent to the colony up to that time: over eight hundred men
and many horses and cannon. A t the head of this impressive array
Governor Coutinho marched up the banks of the muddy Cuanza,
but before he had gone many leagues he died of malaria. T h e title of
acting governor went to Manuel Cerveira Pereira, who in 1604 at
last reached Cambambe and founded there a blockhouse. A t last the
silver bubble burst. There were no productive mines at Cambambe.
Cerveira Pereira was vain, brave, ambitious. He turned his atten-
tion to other matters. His contemporaries complained that he ex-
ploited his countrymen as ruthlessly as he did the African petty
chiefs. T h e first act of the new governor arriving in Luanda in 1607,
Manuel Pereira Forjaz, was to arrest the acting governor and send
him off to Portugal to stand trial. Forjaz was also instructed to carry
out a decree sent to Angola earlier but overlooked by Cerveira
Pereira: revoking the land grants made by Paulo Dias and putting
the local chiefs and their people, whom the Portuguese residents had
been mercilessly exploiting, under the protection of the crown. T h e
transfer held only a dubious advantage for the African leaders; they
were required to pay a tax to the royal treasury in return for the
theoretical protection given by the government. In reality the author-
ity of Portugal did not replace that of the proprietors and another
burden was placed on the hard-pressed native peoples inhabiting the
pocket of Portuguese penetration in back of Luanda, and the revenues
from the new tax enriched the governor more than the treasury.
Manuel Forjaz also formed a private trading syndicate which
brought Portuguese and other European goods (mostly wine) into
Angola where the syndicate traded them for slaves who were then
sold to contractors for the Brazilian and Spanish markets. Realizing
that an overland route to the lands of the Monomotapa would widen
the scope of his business, the governor resolved to send an expedition
eastward. He chose Baltasar Rebelo de Aragâo, an old African hand
and founder of the fortress at Muxima, to carry out the first serious
effort to link the two spheres of Portuguese occupation in southern
Africa. Rebelo de Aragäo had proceeded inland over four hundred
miles from the sea and over two hundred from the fort at Cambambe
6o PORTUGUESE AFRICA

before he was forced to return to assist in the protection of the stock-

ade. T h e explorer encountered f e w difficulties, according to the ac-
count he left of his exploits in Angola, and believed that he could
have accomplished his goal without incident.5 The other aspects of
Forjaz' administration were not so imaginative. His tax policies did
nothing to allay African unrest, and at his death in 1 6 1 1 the spirit of
rebellion against the Portuguese was unabated.

During these early years in Luanda and its environs two occur-
rences north and south of the capital presaged important developments
in the history of the colony. In the beginning of the century, the
Dutch set up a factory at Pinda for the export of slaves. French and
English ships were also attracted to the area of the Congo and the
southern coast where they found Portuguese ready to trade with
them in spite of the royal ban. T h e Dutch factory was a more serious
threat to Portugal's interests, however. It was met with character-
istic indecision. The king of the Congo was asked to expel the for-
eigners, but in spite of proddings from the Portuguese bishop in Säo
Salvador, the Manicongo dragged his heels, apparently preferring to
let the enterprising Hollanders share the monopoly previously held
by the Portuguese (the respect the Portuguese still maintained for
the sovereign rights of the Manicongo is manifest during all of these
negotiations). The failure to act more decisively also reveals that the
center of interest in the whole area had passed to Luanda. Portuguese
inaction proved a grievous mistake. In the next decades Dutch ves-
sels roamed the Angolan coast capturing and burning merchant ships,
and openly attacking the port of Benguela. In 1638 the worried inhabi-
tants of Luanda laid the foundations of the tremendous fort of Sao
Miguel on a bluff over the sea; it was not sufficiently finished in 1641
to turn back a Dutch invasion.
T h e founding of Säo Filipe de Benguela in 1617 by Manuel Cer-
veira Pereira opened another chapter of Angola's history. In the pre-
vious century, Benguela Velha (near the modern town of Porto
Amboim) had figured occasionally in Portugal's plans, when half-
hearted efforts had been made to build a permanent factory there.
When Cerveira Pereira, having confounded his critics by winning his
case in Lisbon against the charges made in Luanda, arrived in Angola
in 1615 as governor of the province, he carried also special instruc-
tions as captain of the conquest of Benguela. He had convinced him-
self — and sponsors in Lisbon — of the existence of copper and silver
mines in the interior south of the Cuanza, and after attending to the
 A N G O L A TO 1858 6l
more urgent demands of Luanda's administration, he set out in April
1617 with two hundred and fifty men, a goodly number of them
convicts and exiles, to seek out the source of the rumors. Unable to
land at Benguela Velha because of sand bars across the harbor's en-
trance, he continued to Bahia de Santo Antonio, where the company
founded the capital of the new dominion of Benguela.
The first years of the settlement's life were ones of disorder and
tribulation. A n angry African population, the virulent fevers, and a
mutiny against Cerveira Pereira's notorious brutality brought the proj-
ect to the brink of disaster. T h e tyrannical governor of Benguela
could not count on assistance from Luanda where a new governor
of the dominion of Angola, Luís Mendes de Vasconcelos, jealous of
his energetic rival in the south and influenced by old-time residents
who had more than one score to settle with Cerveira Pereira, blithely
ignored his royal instructions by withholding reinforcements for the
Benguela campaign. On his incursions into the near interior Cerveira
Pereira had discovered small samples of copper — in addition to valu-
able salt deposits — but these successes could not counteract the effects
of his greed and brutality. A small group of men, including a Fran-
ciscan friar and an African priest, took advantage of a serious illness
which left Cerveira Pereira helpless, to take him prisoner. T h e y car-
ried him to a small boat with one rotten sail and a container of water
and left him to the mercy of the open sea. B y his indomitable will
the governor reached Luanda, where the Jesuits nursed him back to
health.
In Luanda, Cerveira Pereira directed a letter to Philip asking for
more men. With the forces sent from Lisbon and other young men
whom the Jesuits helped him recruit in Luanda he returned to Ben-
guela in 1620. He obtained samples of ore for the assayers in Lisbon,
but they proved disappointing in their mineral content, and although
the crown did not see fit at the moment to merge the dominion of
Benguela with Angola, continued support for the southern region was
not forthcoming. Cerveira Pereira remained in command of the new
colony, ruthlessly exploring the vicinity and combating the intrigues
of Luanda. A t the time of his death in 1626, the garrison at Benguela
had diminished to sixteen ill-clad soldiers. In the next fourteen years
Benguela came more and more under the dominance of Luanda, whose
governor participated in the choice of Cerveira Pereira's successors.
Neither Luanda nor Lisbon bothered to encourage the development
of territories so improvident in metal and slaves. In the late 1620's
Governor Fernâo de Sousa urged that the fortress at Benguela be dis-
mantled, its garrison and arms taken to Luanda. He argued that Ben-
62 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

guela had little promise for the future and that its distance from L u -
anda and the difficulties of maintaining there an adequate force made
it virtually impossible to defend against the Dutch. And in 1641 the
port fell easily to Dutch invaders after a brief resistance by the inhabi-
tants of the town. That year marked the effective end of the inde-
pendent government of Benguela.
T h e small group of outcasts in Benguela who withstood the lustful
ambitions of Cerveira Pereira, the scheming neglect of Luanda, and
the Dutch occupation have a unique position in the early history of
Angola. The combination of renegades from the Congo, exiles and
convicts from Portugal, criminals from Brazil, with their wives and
children, were the first genuine colonizers of Angola. Frustrated in
their search for mineral wealth and unable to compete at first with
the slave marts of the north, they were driven to gain an existence
from the soil and the sea. T h e settlement of Benguela was from an
early date the home of traders, farmers, and fishermen, a strange con-
trast from the bustling mercantile center of Luanda. Only at Sofala
after the decline of the gold trade may one find a parallel in Portu-
guese Africa to the situation in Säo Filipe de Benguela in the middle
of the seventeenth century. Benguela was no showplace of Lusitanian
colonization and remained for the next several centuries a haven for
undesirables and the extreme element of Portuguese society, but at
the same time it became an almost self-sufficient agricultural and
fishing community. On a very limited scale its pattern of existence
exemplified the traditional Portuguese w a y of life better than other
more flamboyant centers of expansion in Africa and the East.

Many details of Angola and the Congo at the turn of the century
are found in the account of a captivity in those regions by the English-
man Andrew Battell of Leigh, whose extraordinary narrative has long
fascinated African historians and anthropologists.® In 1589 or 1590
Battell, a sailor, was captured by Brazilian Indians and delivered to
Portuguese authorities who sent him to Angola. In the next twenty
years, as soldier and prisoner, he visited every part of the Congo and
Angola known to the Portuguese: the Cuanza valley, the Congo and
the lands of Matamba east of the Cuango, Benguela and the Jaga
territory inland, the kingdom of Loango north of the Congo River.
T h e most sensational part of his story is a description of a twenty-one
months' captivity among the savage Jagas as hostage for a Portuguese
pledge. Although Battell's account casts little additional light on
Portuguese activities, it verifies the extent of their trade and conquest.
 A N G O L A TO 1858 63
The larger contribution of the work is the much curious information
it offers of African lands and life in 1600. Comparing the Angola of
Battell's day with the accounts of Livingstone two hundred and fifty
years later, or even with those of a twentieth-century observer like
Alexander Barns, one is confronted with the seemingly time-resistant
quality of native life in Angola and the small visible changes which
have been wrought there in almost four centuries of Portuguese pres-
ence.
In Luanda the colonial administration of Angola proceeded into
the second decade of the seventeenth century with scarcely any de-
viation from the established pattern. The limits of territorial occupa-
tion in the interior were reached with the erection of a blockhouse at
Ambaca (on the Lucala River) in 1616, although Portuguese, half-
caste, and African traders made their w a y throughout the area east
of the Cuango River. Lisbon's reluctance to finance the costs of the
Angolan government made the correction of abuses impossible. From
the governor down, the administrative officials and soldiers received a
trifling compensation for their services, and the slave trade represented
the logical and only means of supplementing their income. Attendant
irregularities were the steady increases in the head tax demanded of
the African chiefs and the provoking of local wars to stimulate the
flow of captives seaward. More than one seventeenth-century Portu-
guese critic denounced the course of action in Angola, maintaining
that the colony would never be inherently prosperous as long as the
so-called campaign of conquest and pseudo-conversion of the indige-
nous peoples was pursued. But these advocates of settlement and
organized trade did not have a receptive audience. T h e f e w Portu-
guese who attempted to settle in the interior or to carry on business
at the scattered fairs were chronically harassed and found themselves
caught up in the periodic turmoil that swept the country, and the
development of Angola died for lack of order.
In 1617 Luís Mendes de Vasconcelos arrived in Luanda as governor
and almost immediately became embroiled in a war with the new
chief of Dongo, Ngola Nzinga Mbandi, who was outraged that
the Portuguese should have moved the Ambaca fortress several leagues
up the Lucala River without consultation. For three years, Vasconce-
los, assisted by a company of lawless slave traders, ranged through the
Dongo and Matamba on punitive expeditions against the Ngola and
his aDies, taking an important number of captives to be branded, con-
verted en masse, and sent to Brazil and N e w Spain. When Vasconce-
los' successor Joäo Correia de Sousa, took office in 1621, the African
chief considered the moment auspicious to arrange a treaty of peace.
64 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

His sister, invariably referred to by the Portuguese as Queen Jinga,

arrived in Luanda at the head of an imposing embassy. In her deal-
ings with Correia de Sousa she showed intelligence and pride, and the
treaty signed between the Portuguese and their African adversary
was more of a friendship pact of equality than one between victor
and vanquished. Jinga remained in Luanda for a year, and was bap-
tized with great pomp in the cathedral as Dona Ana de Sousa.
Christianity rested easily on the soul of this impressive virago.
The year following 1623, she adroitly poisoned her brother, who had
been chased from his kraal by a Portuguese column after breaking
the treaty his sister had signed with the Europeans. In a barbaric
ceremony Jinga declared herself queen. With the aid of Jaga tribes-
men she undertook a war against her former co-religionists. For the
next three years she and the Portuguese were engaged in a series of
conflicts. Meanwhile other Jaga tribesmen took advantage of Portu-
guese embarrassment to raid tribes loyal to the Europeans and rob
the pombeiros (Portuguese-African slave traders) of their merchan-
dise. These attacks in turn stimulated several lesser chiefs to throw
off their vassalage to the distant white king. The frontier wars con-
tinued with bloody monotony until 1636 when emissaries from Gov-
ernor Francisco de Vasconcelos da Cunha prevailed upon Queen Jinga
to make peace.
The same governor attempted in 1638 to alleviate some of the
evils associated with the head tax. A n office of revenue collection was
organized to regulate the fixing and collecting of the tax and to make
it less of a personal spoils system handled by the governor and his aides.
Several other events indicated a passing concern for an improvement
in the prevalent morality of Angola. A Luanda philanthropist in the
1620's bequeathed his entire fortune to the Society of Jesus for found-
ing a seminary for the education of African youths. Governor Correia
de Sousa, much in need of money for his own less spiritual projects,
strongly disputed the bequest but was rebuked by Lisbon. In 1626
the Inquisition appointed a Jesuit priest to represent its interests in An-
gola, although, in effect, neither then nor later was the Holy Office
very busy in the colony. A hospital and a poor house went up in Lu-
anda. A n effort was even made to have the capital less dependent on
the annual shipment of provisions from Brazil. In 1629 the governor
ordered the cultivation of fruits and vegetables in small farms at the
edge of the city. African conscripts were enjoined to work these lands.

In 1640 the eighty years of the Spanish Captivity came to an end,

 A N G O L A TO 1858 65
and Portugal hastened to bring a halt to the drawn-out hostilities with
the Dutch which had been one of the contributions of the Hapsburg
dynasty to Portugal. Holland in this matter was faced with a politico-
economic dilemma: to recognize Portuguese independence would em-
barrass a mortal enemy, Spain; on the other hand, as the East and
West Indies Companies pointed out, to continue pressure on the Por-
tuguese dominions in three continents might well bring the whole
empire into Dutch hands. A legalistic compromise was worked out
proclaiming a ten-year armistice. Officials of the Indies companies
urged their officers overseas to seize as much Portuguese territory as
possible before the truce was ratified. B y 1640 the Dutch had come
into possession of an extensive coastal expanse of northeast Brazil. T o
secure a steady supply of labor for their Pernambuco plantations, the
Dutch in Brazil determined to capture the source; such a stroke would
also cut off slaves for Portuguese Brazil and much of Spanish South
America. With the taking of Sâo Tomé, Luanda, and Benguela, Johan
Maurits envisioned an absolute domination of West Africa's slave
market. For forty years Dutch ships had traded and harassed the coast-
line, setting up temporary factories, bombarding Portuguese towns,
and taking her ships on the high seas. T h e next maneuver in the long
undeclared war was the seizure of the territory.
In August 1641 an armada of twenty-one Dutch ships appeared
off Luanda. The Portuguese garrison was not caught unawares, but
the invaders found the narrow entrance into the harbor and brought
their ships to beach where the Portuguese cannon could not carry.
Suspecting that the intruders had come only to plunder, although the
size of the fleet must have caused some serious misgivings, Governor
Pedro de Menezes called for the evacuation of the city. Thus Luanda
fell into the hands of the Dutch, who marveled, as successive travelers
have done down through the centuries, on the spacious air of West
Africa's most beautiful city.
In December a smaller Dutch fleet rendered the fortress of Sao
Filipe de Benguela, where the neglected inhabitants, soldiers and town-
folk alike, gave a livelier account of themselves than their more pros-
perous countrymen in Luanda. But the town fell, and the defenders
made their w a y forty leagues into the interior where a number of
them perished from hunger. After nine months of privations they re-
turned to the port to wait impatiently for reinforcements from Portu-
gal to help them evict the conquerors. In Luanda the Portuguese who
chose to return to the city and sell slaves to the Dutch were permitted
to do so, but f e w accepted the invitation. T h e Portuguese had with-
drawn to Massangano to plan a counterattack, but their task was made
66 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

more difficult by alliances the Dutch had made with neighboring

chiefs, the Jagas, and the redoubtable Queen Jinga, all of whom wel-
comed an opportunity to settle old scores. In 1643 Governor Menezes
attempted to recover the city but in a surprise attack the advancing
Portuguese force was dispersed and two hundred men, including the
governor, were taken prisoner.
Portugal, involved in a military struggle with Spain to insure the
independence declared in 1640, was not able to aid directly her op-
pressed African colony. In 1644 the Overseas Council called upon
Brazil to help in the campaign against the Dutch, an appeal the
American colonists were willing to answer, since the loss of Angola
had caused more hardships in Brazil than in the metropolis. T h e first
expedition sailed from Bahia in 1645 and landed at Quicombo (about
one hundred miles south of Luanda). E n route to Massangano the
relief army was overwhelmed by a Jaga horde. A second expedition
sailed for Angola in the middle of the same year. Brazilian soldiers
reached Massangano just in time to help the defenders of the fortress
inflict a rousing defeat on Queen Jinga and her Dutch allies. In the
two years after 1645, the Portuguese position became more tenuous,
but the defenders held on. " T h e men who held out so stubbornly at
Massangano despite an almost unbroken series of crushing reverses,"
Charles Boxer observes, . . were inspired b y something more than
the expectation of securing slaves. T h e crusading spirit in its good
and its bad aspects was still far from dead in Portugal, and war against
the Moslem, the heathen, and the heretic was still regarded as a sacred
duty. Despite the violence, greed, and cruelty with which the history
of Angola is stained, the fact remains that they sincerely believed
that they were fighting God's battles and saving Negro souls from
the fatal infection of heresy." 7
In a desperate effort to retrieve her African colony, the govern-
ment in Lisbon called upon her most distinguished colonial leader,
Salvador Correia de Sá e Benavides, wealthy Brazilian landowner,
former governor of Rio de Janeiro, and general of the Brazil fleets in
the campaign against the Dutch in Pernambuco. In 1647 Salvador de
Sá was appointed governor of Angola with instructions to retake the
province. Such was the prestige of the new governor — and such was
the need for slaves for the sugar plantations — that he was able to
raise in Rio de Janeiro the funds and men for the third Brazilian
armada, for which the crown furnished only five ships. In May 1648,
fifteen ships and 1,500 men departed from Rio. On August 18 an un-
successful assault on the fortress of Säo Miguel was made. Salvador
de Sá was seemingly left with the prospect of confronting the Dutch
 ANGOLA TO 1858 67
when their numbers were swelled by the return of expeditionaries
from the interior and the African troops that would accompany them.
T o his great surprise the Dutch commander that same morning agreed
to a conference on the surrender of the town. The reasons for his
eagerness to capitulate are not clear; overestimation of the Brazilian
army, reluctance to suffer a long siege, shortage of munitions all must
have contributed to his decision. It is also very possible that most of
the officers and men of the Dutch contingent were sick and tired of
Angola. Under the terms of the settlement, the Dutch would be per-
mitted to withdraw with their slaves and property, the Portuguese
supplying sufficient transportation to evacuate them. Some of the
Roman Catholic mercenaries, mostly French and German, were per-
mitted to remain in the colony. Shortly after the fall of Luanda,
Benguela and Sâo Tomé were relinquished.
When the jubilation in Luanda had subsided and the Dutch had
departed, Salvador de Sá set about the reconstruction of Portuguese
authority. The disloyal chiefs were punished for their lack of alle-
giance. The king of the Congo, Garcia Afonso II, had sought to profit
from Portugal's troubled position in the 1640's by reasserting his in-
dependence. Although he had not joined the Dutch in military ad-
ventures, he had encouraged non-Portuguese Catholic missionaries,
Italian and Spanish Capuchins, to take up residence in his realm, and
had petitioned the Pope in 1646 to send him priests free from Portu-
guese influence. In a new treaty forced upon the fearful Garcia
Afonso, Salvador de Sá specified that no foreign missionaries, save
Spanish Capuchins whose activities were to be directed by Lisbon,
were to be permitted in the Congo kingdom, a resolution overturned
in Lisbon. Several harsher provisions were also eliminated from the
treaty by Joäo I V who held to the fiction that the Manicongo was
nominally his vassal, but in reality an equal. A more serious problem
was the reopening of the slave trade to Brazil and Buenos Aires. N o
difficulties, apart from the raids of Dutch privateers, were encoun-
tered in reviving the flow of Africans to Brazil. Commerce with the
Spanish colonies was more difficult to implement, even though it
brought much-needed silver to the royal treasury; but by 1650,
Angolan slaves were again reaching Buenos Aires. The governor's
suggestion that licenses be issued to foreigners for trade at Luanda,
in particular for sailing directly from Spain, was immediately rejected
by Lisbon whose traditional fears of outside competition and influence
in her African provinces have always determined her colonial eco-
nomic policies. T h e slave trade must remain substantially in Portu-
guese hands. T o recompense the governor and the Brazilian colonists
68 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

for the expenses incurred in liberating Angola, an additional tax was

placed on each adult slave leaving the colony. Still another task was
to see to the defense of the coast and provide protection for Portu-
guese shipping in the area. In 1652, Salvador de Sá relinquished his
governorship to Rodrigo de Miranda Henriques and embarked for
Brazil, his work completed.8

Salvador Correia de Sá, in addition to delivering Angola from the

Dutch, gave the colony in his three-year tenure a momentum that
was to carry it through the rest of the century. Angola now entered
the most prosperous period of her history, excluding the last twenty
years of the present century, although frictions among the Portuguese
themselves continued as differences between the governors and the
old-time residents and the ubiquitous Jesuits flared up again and again.
Native wars were endemic, but such disturbances were accepted as
part of Angola's pattern of life and even contributed to its flourish-
ing. Portuguese authority was entrenched at Luanda, where the for-
tress of Sâo Miguel was finished in 1689, and in the south at Benguela.
In the backcountry smaller forts at Massangano, Muxima, Pungo An-
dongo, Cambambe, and Ambaca kept open the slave routes criss-
crossing the province and provided centers of military strength to
keep troublesome chieftains from seriously interfering with that all-
important commerce. B y the end of century Portugal held nominal
control, according to Ravenstein's estimate, over fifty thousand square
miles of Angola and the Congo. European population decreased pro-
portionately with the distance from the coast, but traders and soldiers
could move with relative freedom within the whole vast area.
The prosperity of Angola was irretrievably attached to the develop-
ment of Brazil, a fact recognized by the crown itself, which was con-
tent to collect its tax on slaves and let matters run their eventually
ruinous course. Angola's debt to Brazil was unquestionably great. Her
salvation had come from the American colony, not the metropolis, and
it was fitting that in the years following 1650 (until 1668 when Fran-
cisco de Távora was sent directly from Lisbon), the governors and
functionaries responsible for the West African territory should also
come from Brazil. It was equally fitting that these administrators
should hold the interests of Brazil paramount. Portugal was still in-
volved in a tiresome struggle with Spain which consumed her leaders
and finances, and it was a useful and inexpensive device to reward the
heroes of Brazil's war against the Dutch by giving them the prized and
profitable governorship of Angola. Unlike Salvador de Sá, these men
The sixteenth-century fortress at Sofala, Moçambique
Luanda, Angola
 ANGOLA TO 1858 69
contributed little to the welfare of the colony. T h e y and their lesser
officials received but a pittance f o r their services; their military and
administrative budget was inconsequential. T h e i r remuneration came
f r o m participation in the slave trade, either through association with
resident slave merchants or b y personal initiative.
T h e military and civil management of the kingdom of A n g o l a was
entrusted to the governor, whose local authority, if he chose or was
able to use it, was substantial. H e had the p o w e r of appointments to
his o w n staff and a voice in the naming of the captains of the fortresses,
although the latter, once in office, were not always ready to heed the
instructions of the governor, and he, correspondingly, was usually
loath to persevere in the face of their opposition. T h e affairs of justice
and the treasury w e r e also in the governor's charge. O n matters con-
cerning the general defense of the colony or those of broad general
interest, he acted in consultation w i t h his council, composed partly of
colonial officers and partly of local inhabitants. T h e second most im-
portant official in the province was the ouvidor, or chief justice, w h o
was responsible f o r juridical authority. H o w effectively the governor
ran the affairs of A n g o l a depended on the forcefulness of his person-
ality and his skill in dealing with the Portuguese living there. T h e
majority of the governors were content to accept the situation as
they found it, realizing that in the balance hung the opportunity f o r
personal gain. T h e system of administration in the seventeenth cen-
tury did not undergo basic modification until recent days.
T h e permanent residents of A n g o l a did not always look with favor
upon the parvenu administrators, especially w h e n they spoke of poli-
cies w h i c h threatened to restrict the residents' power over the lesser
A f r i c a n tribes. T h e s e veterans of a score of campaigns formed a feudal
caste resisting change and authority. A s captains of fortresses, land-
holders, members of the city councils, they constantly asserted their
entrenched independence. M a n y of them led lives of splendor, con-
structing palatial homes in Luanda, marrying or taking as mistresses
A f r i c a n or mulatto w o m e n with w h o m they created generations of
children w h o came to form a considerable proportion of A n g o l a n
society equally resentful of the prerogatives of the governor's court.
T h e population of A n g o l a was augmented b y exiles, ambitious second
sons f r o m Portugal, and freebooters, w h o , if they survived the first
devastating bout with fever, enlivened the colony with their many
genial talents. These first and second citizens of the land had allies in
the Jesuits, still p o w e r f u l though their dreams of an A f r i c a n theocracy
had disappeared, w h o brooked no interference with their traditional
masterful jurisdiction over the well-being of the Portuguese and A f r i -
7 o PORTUGUESE AFRICA

can population. It was a courageous governor who came to grips with

the formidable citizenry of Angola.
The three large African tribes, all too powerful to be brought to
permanent submission, were those of Matamba, where Queen Jinga
still reigned, the Dongo with its Ngola, and the Congo. Each was theo-
retically a vassal of the king of Portugal, but actual Portuguese rela-
tions with the three tribes normally consisted of a state of truce,
broken by sporadic hostilities resulting from the intemperate acts of
individual slave traders. From 1665 to 1685, however, the interior
was torn by a series of wars. N o longer did the African tribes rise
up one by one; they now joined together in a united front against the
Portuguese. It was not practical for Portugal to try to maintain peace-
ful relations with the chiefs of the Congo and interior. Treaties with
England and Holland in effect allowed these two nations to partici-
pate in the Portuguese slave trade by opening the ports of Brazil to
their ships. A t the same time the depleted treasury brought new de-
mands on the colonies. These two factors had a profound effect on
the Angola slave trade. From an estimated seven thousand slaves ex-
ported each year the figure began to rise sharply, with violent and
deleterious effects in the colony. A number of incidents, real and
imagined, led to a Portuguese invasion of the Congo kingdom, which,
with the death in battle of its paramount chief, Antonio I, lost the rem-
nants of its former power. In 1670-1671, the Dongo was overrun by
a force under the twenty-three-year-old Governor Francisco de T á -
vora, and in the late 1680's, the area of Matamba was brought more
or less effectively under Portuguese influence. A t Benguela also the
Portuguese expanded into the interior, to Caconda and beyond, and
by the end of the century they had scattered the Jaga tribesmen and
set up an outpost one hundred and fifty miles from the coast to help
swell the supply of slaves from the highlands. The best intentions of
the missionary orders could not withstand the disorderly state of
affairs. In 1694 only thirty-six priests were active in the interior; most
of their churches and schools had fallen into ruins.
T o co-ordinate the administration of the occupied countryside,
the first administrative code, or organic charter, for the colony was
drawn up in the i67o's. It defined the responsibilities and obligations
in particular of the captains of fortresses, especially in matters of
revenue and justice, but like most Portuguese colonial legislation of
the period it was an afterthought in African policy, and as such was
not taken seriously by those to whom it was directed. A theoretic con-
cern for the welfare of Angola accomplished little in the absence of
steady encouragement to colonize and develop the wealth of the soil
 A N G O L A TO 1 8 5 8 71

as was being done in the Americas. "Angola was becoming the colony
which most betrayed the adventurous nature of Portugal's expansion,
diverting its people from their ancestral ways which tied them to the
soil and inciting them to covetousness, to an uneasy trivial existence,
more disposed to risk all for easy immediate gain, instead of to a slow
and legitimate profit from their sober hard work." 9

Even the assaults of French ships on West African ports — a con-

sequence of Portugal's involvement in the W a r of the Spanish Succes-
sion — did not seriously disturb the monotonous course of Angolan
history in the first years of the eighteenth century. In addition to keep-
ing the sobas in sullen submission the governors were presented with
the cares of a coastal defense, but Angola had weathered far worse
storms without drastic disruptions in her economic life. N o r did the
appearance of the ships from other nations at Congo ports, in direct
violation of treaties with the Congo king and the instructions given
the governors, do more than ripple the surface of the prosperous and
negligent country. Lisbon's concern for the slave monopoly was not
always Angola's; foreign gold was as welcome as Portuguese. Local
squabbles were more important than international disputes. The con-
flicts which flared up among the participants in the slave trade —
governors, captains, citizens, clergy — led the crown in 1720 to pro-
hibit its colonial administrators from engaging in any aspect of the
commerce, but such distant pronouncements did not unduly burden
the conscience of many. The material splendor of Luanda in the early
1700's was the admiration of foreign and Portuguese visitors. T h e
mansions of the established settlers, the ecclesiastical edifices, the pal-
ace of the governor made it seem as though part of Lisbon had been
transferred to African soil. The gardens at the city's edge were over-
grown and rank, however; once again foodstuffs reached Luanda in
the holds of empty slavers.
In 1765 the vigorous reforms the Marques de Pombal had clamped
on the metropolis echoed in Angola when the extraordinarilv deter-
mined and farsighted Francisco de Sousa Coutinho arrived as gov-
ernor of the colony. It was at once apparent to Sousa Coutinho that
a commercial and pseudo-military occupation of Angola resting solely
on slaving held no promise for the future natural development of the
territory. One hundred years of expediency, prosperous though An-
gola was, could not be called a colonial program. Already voices in
Portugal and abroad were being raised against slavery, an institution
which clearly could not endure many years longer. What Sousa Cou-
72 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

tinho envisaged was a systematic occupation of the country; the set-

tling of colonists in the healthful plateau regions; a curb on the vast
number of Africans being exported annually, which now threatened
to depopulate the land; and the self-sufficiency of Angolan agricul-
ture. In some respects Sousa Coutinho was the first modern colonial
administrator in Africa.
As such he was a man out of his century. The wealth of Brazil was
one of the foundations of Portugal's national policy and Brazil's secu-
rity continued to rest on Angolan labor. Pombal was no more receptive
to ideas which would jeopardize the status quo than were the slaving
interests in the African colony. The result was that many of Sousa
Coutinho's plans for improvement were never realized. Some of the
reforms he attempted to inaugurate are still fundamental to the
province's development in mid-twentieth century. He encouraged
local industry: sulphur, copper, asphalt could all contribute to the
colony's welfare. Under his guidance a shipyard was put in operation.
His greatest industrial dream was an iron foundry on the Cuanza, and
this was in small-scale operation in the year of his departure. Another
vision was a colonization scheme for the southern plateau. He sug-
gested that the government bring settlers from Brazil and the Atlantic
islands to take up residence as small farmers in the fertile regions of
Bié and Huila. Such settlers, he argued, would do more for the well-
being of the colony than the hundreds of wastrels, exiles, and convicts
whose only gift to Angola was a perpetuation of tyranny and scandal.
He also threatened to expropriate the large uncultivated tracts in back
of Luanda unless their proprietors used them to advantage. T o his
own civil administration Sousa Coutinho brought temporary order.
From his subordinates he demanded propriety and strict honesty. In
Luanda he had built large warehouses for food reserves to be used in
years of famine or when the ships from Brazil were delayed. He built
a technical training school for young men. Of his work, Lopes de
Lima writes: " H e was the first governor to civilize this semi-barbarous
colony and during his tenure he did more than all his predecessors had
ever thought of." 10
The example of Sousa Coutinho was hardly infectious. Of his im-
mediate successors only Barâo de Moçâmedes partook — to a limited
degree — of his dedication. Moçâmedes organized a campaign of ex-
ploration of the lands south of Benguela to the Cunene River. T w o of
the expeditions sent by him — one by land, the other by sea — made
careful examinations of the coast and interior, compiling much useful
information for expansion there in the following century. T o the
spacious bay at Angra do Negro the explorers gave the name of their
 A N G O L A TO 1858 73
sponsor. Not until the government of Tovar de Albuquerque in
1819 was Angola shaken again by a strong-minded personality. In
his short-lived term of office, Albuquerque temporarily roused An-
gola from her somnolent condition. He encouraged the planting of
cotton and coffee, overhauled the colony's fiscal apparatus, established
a regular mail service to the fortresses in the interior, and instituted a
modest public-works program. Unfortunately, the governor was de-
posed in an uprising.
As Sousa Coutinho had sensed, Angola could not count forever on
being the slave market for much of the New World. Although Anglo-
French differences at the turn of the century lessened temporarily
the competition and benefited the Portuguese trade, the gain was
neutralized by the disruption of Atlantic shipping. More significant
was the growing humanitarian protest against the institution itself.
These voices would eventually have, in diplomatic language, their
effect on Portuguese statesmen. In the same years many Portuguese
themselves argued against the practice. The Brazilian Elias da Silva
Correia in his Historia de Angola (Rio de Janeiro, 1782) wrote moving
pages describing the dismal procedure by which the African was
bought or captured in the interior, marched to the coast, and shipped
in tumbeiros to Brazil. He argued that as long as traders and their
agents were permitted to pursue their fortune at the expense of the
native population, Angola would never have a prosperous tranquil de-
velopment. Only the free man working in harmony with his society
could bring a lasting prosperity to the colony. Angola must cease to
think in terms of expanding the slave trade; instead, she must direct
her efforts first to curbing its abuses and then to its elimination.

By the beginning of the nineteenth century the surface splendor

of Luanda had begun to tarnish; the fine buildings were falling into
disrepair; its streets were unattended; transportation into the interior
was in a state of neglect. Mission work in the colony still declined, and
attendance at mission schools was apathetic. The population of Lu-
anda and Benguela was made up predominantly of social castaways.
Some went to live in the backcountry, there either to prosper as local
merchants or to be absorbed into the African world — and in many
cases, both. The countenance of the colony, in the first years of the
century, was apathy on the coast and indiscipline in the interior.
A European spirit of progress and reform had made its impression
on several Portuguese governors proceeding to Angola in the first
74 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

three decades of the i8oo's. Some, appalled by the condition of the

colony, submitted lengthy proposals for its regeneration; others de-
spaired of its salvation, claiming that its decadence defied all hope of
spiritual or economic redemption. T h e more positive idealists, how-
ever, made concrete proposals. T h e prospects of a fishing industry,
which would also make use of local salt, seemed encouraging to An-
tonio de Saldanha da Gama, who also urged that the production of
native cotton be expanded. Another governor tried to create a class
of craftsmen and mechanics — smiths, tanners, shipbuilders, carpen-
ters, tailors — to provide employment for the scorned and shiftless
elements of Angolan population. T h e assertion was made constantly
— as it is today — that f e w residents were willing to make capital in-
vestment in the country, content to employ their fortune in the pur-
chase of necessities from Brazil and Portugal at a high price instead of
attempting to establish local production. What was needed, these prac-
tical idealists insisted, was a dramatic reorientation in policy which
would strengthen the colony's economy and give direction to its ad-
ministration.
The same spokesmen also referred to the conduct of native affairs,
ranging from charges that the African lived under the very real fear
of abusive exploitation to the more familiar claim that the Portuguese
were the only European people in Africa who had gained the loyalty
and affection of the Negro. The critics decried the use of the African
as a beast of burden and added their voices to the ancient chorus of
protests against setting the chiefs against one another for the purpose
of capturing slaves. Defenders of Portuguese custom in Africa ex-
tolled the work of the missionary fathers and the readiness of their
countrymen to take African women and mulattoes as their wives.
Such arguments were completely academic. In the early nineteenth
century the Angolan was still viewed as a commodity; the chief was
useful in obtaining this commodity, either through peaceful tribute
or through warfare. This had been Portugal's native policy in Angola
and, to a lesser extent, in Moçambique. It is true that the African
woman, in the absence of Portuguese females, offered an outlet for
the sexual impulse. Miscegenation in Portuguese Africa, however, al-
though admirably free from the sense of shame which accompanied
it in English colonies, still must be considered primarily as erotic ex-
pediency; it has become colonial policy only in retrospect.
A s a consequence of the Napoleonic wars in the Peninsula, the
Portuguese court removed in 1807 to Rio de Janeiro where, as many
Portuguese in Angola believed, it had always been as far as Angola
was concerned. Brazil declared its independence in 1822. Portugal her-
 A N G O L A TO 1858 75
self was involved in a struggle between the constitutionalists and the
monarchists which, though it ended in victory for the Liberal forces,
set the stage for a turbulent political century. T h e effects of metro-
politan unrest came quickly in Angola. A popular uprising in Luanda
in 1822 and a mutiny among the troops deposed the incumbent gov-
ernor, who was replaced by a provisional junta headed by the Bishop.
Brazil, in order to guard her own economic ties to West Africa,
proposed a federation with Angola and Moçambique, an overture re-
jected in Luanda but supported in Benguela, which had a separatist
uprising. T h e chaotic decade came to an uneasy close with Governor
Santa Comba having established a precarious peace among the colony's
dissident elements. Santa Comba's program for the revitalization of
Angola was of the commendable pattern outlined by several of his
predecessors, but such efforts had been successfully resisted in quieter
times, and his suggestions remained suggestions. When the news of
the final constitutionalist triumph in 1834 in Portugal reached Luanda,
the governor was replaced by a provisional junta with attendant dis-
orders. Only with the arrival of Governor Bernardo Vidal, a cham-
pion of the Liberal cause, was a semblance of tranquillity restored.
T h e Liberal's colonial policy in Africa was idealistic and con-
fused. T h e Portuguese Constitution of 1822 made no special provi-
sion for the colonies, for the constitution was to be applicable to all
national territory, whether in Europe or overseas. T h e Ministry for
Marine and Overseas was abolished in 1821, restored in 1823, abol-
ished again in 1834, and re-created in 1835 with diminished authority.
Even though the 1838 Constitution provided for special laws to gov-
ern the overseas territories, the fact that all important legislation was
reserved for the Portuguese parliament — where many deputies be-
lieved that special legislation was unnecessary since metropolitan laws
would serve as well — precluded the creation of a consistent colonial
policy. The free population of overseas territories were declared Por-
tuguese citizens sharing the same privileges as their countrymen in
Europe. In 1832, even during the Miguelist regime, these territories
were given the name overseas provinces (the shift from colony to
province to colony to province in the last hundred and twenty years
is one of the vexing aspects of Portuguese colonial history, even
though the transitions have implied little more than a change in ter-
minology). T o the enemies of the Liberal government these gestures
toward an assimilaçâo uniformizadora were pure farce, sins for which
the Liberals have never been forgiven by conservative colonial philos-
ophers. Much of their criticism is exaggerated, because as far as the
African in Angola and Moçambique was concerned his status was
76 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

not appreciably altered by any of the Liberal's ideals, if he was even

aware of them.
With many of the reforms projected for the overseas provinces
the name of the Marqués de Sá da Bandeira is intimately associated.
Working in the midst of confusion, animosity, and an instability that
brought on the overthrow of his government, Prime Minister Sá da
Bandeira from 1836 to 1840 evolved a program, most of it never im-
plemented, of colonial development. He spoke of a permanent civil
service in the Overseas Ministry to guarantee colonial stability through
ministerial upheavals. Portugal should now, he declared, dedicate to
Africa the same energy that had made Brazil a thriving country. T h e
keys to his program were capital investment and colonization: African
ports should be opened to foreign shipping and all products passing
between Portugal and Africa — this to remain a Portuguese monop-
oly — should be duty free. Angola must not be a place of exile for
political and criminal undesirables; settlement there by honest indus-
trious citizens should be one of the first orders of business for the new
regime. 11
In 1836 Sá da Bandeira delivered his boldest decision: all traffic in
slaves from Portuguese possessions was to cease in December of that
year. The decree, though long expected, met implacable resistance
from residents in Angola. Governor Bernardo Vidal was not the man
to enforce the suppression of the traffic; on the contrary, prior to his
dismissal in 1838, he made a fortune in bribes by allowing it to con-
tinue and sent a cargo of slaves to Rio de Janeiro on his own account.
So violent was reaction to the decree that no governor until 1845 was
able to cope with the problem. T h e men who served as governors in
the years between were obliged to close their eyes to the clandestine
shipment of slaves from Angola in order to be able to carry out their
other duties. Portugal herself had not the navy to maintain constant
vigilance along the coast. Only the blunt and arrogant intervention of
England and the effective co-operation of Angola's Governor Pedro
Alexandre da Cunha in 1845 brought about a final suppression of the
commerce by the middle of the century.
It has been the fashion since the last decade of the nineteenth
century, when both Joaquim Mousinho de Albuquerque and Antonio
Enes documented the miserable condition of Portuguese Africa, for
many Portuguese historians to hold the Liberals responsible for all
the neglect and frustrations that beset the overseas provinces. Such
assaults are manifestly unfair. Making the African a citizen of Portu-
gal, ludicrous as it may seem to those who make this piece of legis-
lation their principal target, had no practical effect whatsoever on the
 A N G O L A TO 1858 77
continued decline of Angola. As for the slave trade, by 1830 it had
run its course in Portuguese Africa. In a sense its final suppression was
a recognition of its failure to do more than enrich a privileged class
and keep the colony in a state of chronic backwardness. It is true that
the resistance of the disenfranchised traders to any program designed
to benefit the province was a serious handicap, but this resistance had
been present in the previous century. There comes a time in the study
of Portugal's colonial policy in Africa when ideals that failed must
be given equal consideration with the dismal realities they were meant
to replace. The aspirations of men like Sá da Bandeira sprang from
an enlightenment too frequently absent in European colonization in
Africa. That certain Liberal ministers and governors were not con-
tent merely with phrasing eloquent legislation but also tried to im-
plement it in the face of hostility in Africa and political chaos at
home is a fact that should not be overlooked by contemporary critics.
The next move to shock the residents of Angola from their re-
sentful lethargy was the complete abolition of slavery. Lisbon naively
hoped by this legislation to promote the peaceful occupation of the
interior, since the source of friction between the African and the
European would be removed and the need for expansion created. The
African would cultivate and sell the products of the land instead of
his own kind, and Portuguese traders would develop a healthy com-
merce in manufactured goods. Many individuals — slave merchants
and plantation farmers — would be distressed and the colony's econ-
omy would be disrupted, but the ultimate benefits to the province,
it was held, would outweigh these inconveniences. The abolition of
slavery would also exempt Portugal from the growing humanitarian
criticism of her African native policy, a criticism which could have
unpleasant international consequences. Accordingly, in 1858 a com-
promise decree, promulgated by Sá da Bandeira and his associates,
was signed. Under its provisions all Africans presently held in slavery
would become free men in twenty years, enjoying an interim status
from 1869 as libertos, a classification not too clearly defined and less
clearly enforced. During the twenty-year period no African could
be enslaved and children born of slaves would be free. Even such a
modest proposal was angrily received in Angola with manifestations
and acts of violence. The spirit of slavery died hard in Angola, and
many colonists refused to accept the decision of the government, re-
sisting by both defiance and stratagem. At the beginning of the
twentieth century their oppressions were to burst forth in a scandal
which shook the metropolis and the province.
Nevertheless, the legal abolition of slavery severed the major link
78 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

with a discredited past, and Angola turned reluctantly to a new and

perhaps more difficult era. In 1854 David Livingstone reached Luanda.
The consequences of his historic travels were to lead indirectly to the
Conference of Berlin and were responsible more than any other single
factor for drawing Angola and Moçambique into the complexities of
the modern age in Africa. T o protect her acquisitions in the southern
half of the continent, Portugal, lacking military might and interna-
tional prestige, was driven to asserting the values of her occupation
in these lands during the previous three centuries. T h e present reality
of Portuguese Africa offered less than convincing proof to the am-
bitious hard-headed statesmen of Europe that Portugal's colonization
endeavors had been successful. Her claims of priority and of the abil-
ity of her people to adapt themselves to the African land and culture
were empty arguments against the obvious devastations wrought by
the slave trade, a score of moidering fortresses, and scarcely visible
vestiges of missionary work. As proof of claims to large areas of the
interior of the continent and the retention of territory linking Angola
to Moçambique, three hundred years of Angolan history counted for
little.
 IV

C O L O N I Z A T I O N AND
SETTLEMENT

O NE of the most serious problems for Portuguese policy in An-

gola and Moçambique has been a chronic inability to establish a suffi-
ciently large white population for the continuing Europeanization and
development of the two areas. Only in the present century — more
particularly in the last twenty years — has the number of white in-
habitants in the African colonies visibly swelled.1 That Portugal
should have been among the first successful colonizers from modern
Europe, having settled Madeira and the Azores in the fifteenth cen-
tury and Brazil in the following two centuries, and have failed until
recently in her efforts in Africa has long disturbed both the men
responsible for the overseas possessions and her colonial philosophers.
In Africa Portugal's record as a colonizing force is in fact not much
worse than that of other European nations; nevertheless, the examples
of Brazil, the New World colonies, and what is now the Union of
South Africa have served as unhappy reminders of what some Por-
tuguese feel might have been in Angola and Moçambique. This atti-
tude is mostly nineteenth- and twentieth-century hindsight. The oc-
cupation of the pestilential coastal plains and deserts was uneconomi-
cal as well as virtually impossible, and the interior plateaus remained
largely inaccessible until the appearance of modern transportation.
Quite apart from these factors, the formidable opposition of African
tribes and the peculiar orientations of Angola and Moçambique
toward other distant Portuguese colonies forestalled, as I have
mentioned in previous chapters, a local development along the lines
8o PORTUGUESE AFRICA

followed by Brazil and the Azores, or even Cape Verde and Sâo
Tomé. Finally, the population of Portugal was inadequate. T h e
nation's abrupt expansion around the globe created grave demo-
graphic strains. The capacities of small Portugal were equal to but one
Brazil. 2
The Portuguese conqueror in Africa was not a successful colo-
nist, whatever the reasons for his failure, and when Portuguese the-
orists speak of the colonizing mission of the soldier in Africa they are
dealing in psychic generalities difficult to defend. 3 T h e colonial his-
torian Gomes dos Santos was closer to the reality of Portuguese rule
in Africa during the previous centuries when he wrote bitterly in
1903: " W e did not know, and w e do not know, how to colonize. . .
W e are Utopian dreamers, a race of inept sluggards who have always
been content with national sovereignty." 4 That industrious and te-
nacious segment of Portuguese society, the lower-class farmer and
worker, was conspicuously absent in the African colonies until very
recently, unless he appeared in the guise of would-be conquerer in
pursuit of slaves or gold. Without such vital reinforcement, the Portu-
guese communities in Angola and Moçambique remained .stagnant or
were absorbed, and the exploitative interests of a f e w administrators
and profiteers prevailed.
A large portion of the white population in Portuguese Africa was
made up, until the twentieth century, of "transported criminals and
political exiles known as degradados. Each year a shipload of human
flotsam and jetsam arrived [in Moçambique] from Portugal. Beggars,
embittered by hardship, thieves, assassins, incorrigible soldiers and
sailors, together with a sprinkling of men suffering for their political
offenses, were dumped into the colony. Sometimes these men were
accompanied by their 'wives,' girls from orphanages or reformatory
schools whom they married at the moment of embarkation from
Europe. These unfortunate people, who had already been degraded in
mind and body by imprisonment at home and the rigours of the
voyage, merely added to the misery and inefficiency of the colony." 5
Sentences for the degradados varied: four to six years of jail plus eight
to ten years of exile or exile for life. Many were sentenced to work on
public projects, others imprisoned in the fortresses of Moçambique
island or Luanda. Most of them remained along the coast, and although
it was not unknown for some to go into business, achieving a fortune
and social status, their contribution to the African colonies was small.
The difficulties of persuading Portuguese men to reside in Africa
were multiplied a thousand times with the Portuguese woman. A f t e r
the shipment of twelve women to Angola in 1595 no further efforts
 C O L O N I Z A T I O N AND S E T T L E M E N T 8I

were made to encourage a feminine immigration. Only in the last quar-

ter of the eighteenth century was a governor to Luanda accompanied
by his wife (however Cerveira Pereira took his wife to Benguela in
the ióio's during his governorship of that kingdom). Travelers in
Moçambique in the nineteenth century constantly comment on the
scarcity of white women; the estimated population of Portuguese
women in Lourenço Marques in 1887 was two. N o r were the women
who resided in the colony renowned for their attractions. Henry Salt
is most critical of the f e w he met on the Zambezi in 1810; he found
them sallow, thin, slovenly, devoted to their pipes.® Most of the
women brave enough to face the rigors of the two colonies died
within several years of their arrival, usually in childbirth.
While Portugal failed to populate Angola and Moçambique with
her own people, she was enormously successful, to the subsequent
displeasure of most Portuguese colonists, in persuading Indians to
come to Moçambique. A not unreasonable guess would be that in the
eighteenth and nineteenth centuries these traders and colonists from
the East outnumbered the Portuguese. Even in 1900 their number
was such that Mousinho de Albuquerque considered their presence
a danger to the nationalization of the province and urged that re-
strictive laws be enacted to keep more of them from entering.7 There
were two segments of Indian population in Moçambique. T h e Banians
were Hindu traders who were usually agents for Indo-British houses
in Damian or Diu; they generally secured their goods from the East
India Company. These merchants were accustomed to live along the
coast, did not settle in the colony or invest in it, and returned to
India after a residence of some years. T h e y were regarded with dis-
favor by the Portuguese who found it difficult to discourage, or
match, their competition and sought satisfaction in hurling epithets:
usurers, thieves, Jews of Asia. T h e Goans or Canarins were Roman
Catholics for the most part and considered themselves, whether half-
caste or no, Portuguese subjects. Some became traders, frequently in
the interior, while others became civil servants or soldiers. T h e y made
their home in Moçambique, often marrying African women. Both
Banian and Goan did more good than harm to the colony. T h e two
charges that some Portuguese have made against their presence, that
they made the formation of a white middle class difficult and that
they held back, because of their rootlessness, civilizing influences, are
patently ridiculous. For two centuries the Indian kept alive small
trade in the interior and made eventual occupation by the Portuguese
a simpler task. As colonists, or prazeros, along the Zambezi, the Goan
was no better and no worse than the Portuguese and his Afro-Portu-
82 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

guese descendants. His estates were the last strongholds of Portuguese

authority in Zambézia, and his resistance to the invading tribes from
the south in the nineteenth century probably kept the region from
being submerged and eventually lost to the crown. Writing in 1838,
Torres Texugo defends the Indian as being the only industrious and
respectable element in Moçambique society. 8 T h e Indian has never
fitted into Portugal's plans for colonization, save for occasional fruit-
less suggestions in the middle nineteenth century that a small number
be introduced into Angola (which today still has hardly any Indian
residents), but he has been accepted as a reality of Moçambique's
economic and social life. Certainly he is not the object of racial per-
secution that he is in the Union of South Africa.

T h e Goan-Canarins were associated with that remarkable system

of feudal land settlement along the Zambezi, 0 regime dos prazos,
and have been accused by some Portuguese observers of having
brought on its decline. While it is true that some of the more notorious
prazeros of the nineteenth century were partly of Indian descent,
the chaotic breakdown of the institution had more deep-rooted causes
than the aggressive behavior of Goan families and represented one
phase of Moçambique's difficult passage into the modern African
world. T h e prazo system was Portugal's most serious attempt to
colonize her southern African possessions until the middle of the past
century; that control of much of the territory passed into the hands
of half-castes and Indians signified nothing more than the failure of
the metropolis in its efforts to promote European settlement of the
area.
In the middle of the seventeenth century, the alleged golden age
of Portuguese occupation of Moçambique, the lands in an area deter-
mined by drawing a line from Quelimane to Chicoa and from Chicoa
to Sofala, the lands of the Rivers of Sena, were divided into great
estates, or prazos, ranging in size from three or four square leagues to
eighty or ninety square leagues. T h e most prosperous were those bor-
dering on the Zambezi from the coast to Tete. T h e owners of the
prazos were powerful and independent men who either lived on their
lands in great luxury and splendor or who, especially in the eighteenth
century, were absentee landlords, residing in Goa, Lisbon, or Moçam-
bique island. Theoretically responsible for the development of the
land and the protection of its inhabitants, the prazeros in reality were
mainly indiiferent to any profitable enterprise except the collection
of taxes and fines. A trickle of quitrent ran into the royal treasury,
 COLONIZATION AND S E T T L E M E N T 83

but in the absence of an effective Portuguese officialdom along the

Zambezi the amounts were not high, and the financial benefits received
by the crown were negligible.
The Moçambique prazo originated in the late sixteenth century
when individual Portuguese soldiers and merchants infiltrated the in-
terior up the great river. T h e y found an African society not too
different superficially from the semifeudal society of Portugal. T h e
lands of the Monomotapa and other paramount chiefs were governed
by lesser chiefs whose allegiance to the supreme ruler took the form
of tribute, military assistance, and a declaration of fealty. Under such
a system white adventurers with ambition and strong constitutions
prospered. B y helping the Monomotapa in his innumerable small wars
with neighboring or rebellious tribes, they received grants of land in
the paramount chief's kingdom and authority over the inhabitants.
Having taken African wives, learned the language, and acquired small
personal armies, they expanded the limits of their grants by absorb-
ing the contiguous lands. The main allegiance of these early Portu-
guese settlers was to the Monomotapa; to their own state, or its iso-
lated representatives at Tete, Sena, or Quelimane they owed and paid
nothing.
When in the seventeenth century the Portuguese government
attempted seriously to extend its jurisdiction over the Rivers of Sena,
it was confronted with conditions it had no choice but to recognize;
in fact, Lisbon saw in the established system a means of projecting its
sovereignty into the interior. It recognized the rights and privileges
the Portuguese pioneers had received from the Monomotapa or taken
for themselves and sought only to give juridical form to an existing
organization. A t the same time the crown itself divided the captaincy
of the Rivers of Sena, issuing prazos da coroa, or crown grants, to
its subjects who had rendered distinguished service. Some of the prazos
were hereditary, others limited to two or three generations. The con-
cessionaires were to receive not more than three square leagues of
land, were to reside in the province, marry Europeans also residing
in the province, and cultivate and colonize the prazos. What the im-
perial counselors had in mind was a modification of the dovatária sys-
tem so successfully implemented in Brazil and unsuccessfully at-
tempted in Angola with the proprietary land grant made to Paulo
Dias de Nováis in the 1570's. What happened in Moçambique was
that the prazos seldom remained small, but swelled to tremendous pro-
portions impossible either to cultivate or populate; the concessions
often came into the hands not of deserving subjects but of speculators.
Many prazeros refused to reside in the colony, and many colonos
84 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

(African residents of the prazo) refused to be enslaved and fled the

region. There was no one on the Zambezi to enforce the terms of the
grant; on the contrary, the captains at Sena and Tete often had to
rely on the prazeros' private armies.
On his lands the prazero was absolute master. He arbitrarily estab-
lished the tribute, a modified head tax, to be paid by the petty chiefs
residing on his lands; of this collection the prazero paid from time to
time a one-tenth quitrent to the Portuguese treasury. Further contribu-
tions were demanded of the Africans on such special occasions as the
prazo1 s passing to a new owner. In default of payment in goods (usu-
ally ivory) of the mussoco (head tax), slaves were accepted from the
petty chiefs by the master. The prazeros had taken the original power
of the local chiefs and increased it. Acting together they were the
strongest force in Portuguese East Africa, able to overwhelm the
Monomotapa and bend the Portuguese captains to their will. Their
great deep-walled residences attracted the admiration of seventeenth-
century visitors. The lofty cool rooms were furnished with oriental
luxury, tables were set with imported delicacies, scores of slaves
served the white lords and their guests as the prazeros tried to outdo
one another in displaying their wealth.
In the latter part of the seventeenth century complaints from mis-
sionaries and civil administrators emphasizing the state of barbarism
in the Zambezi country moved the Lisbon court to try to check the
excesses of the prazeros, many of them by this time mulattoes who
lacked whatever national loyalties their fathers may have had. T o in-
troduce fresh Portuguese blood into the region, by which it was
hoped the white population might be stabilized, Lisbon devised a plan
whereby the inheritance of the prazo would pass to the eldest daugh-
ter, to be retained by her only on the condition that she marry a
Portuguese born in Portugal. The government also gave new prazos
to a scattering of orphan girls as dowries, these grants being subject
to the same matrimonial stipulations. After three generations the land
was to revert to the crown. These measures did not have wide applica-
tion and enjoyed only limited success. Lisbon was distant, the rights of
the prazeros too entrenched, and the way of life on an African tribal
estate too strenuous for most European women. The prazos da coroa,
totaling almost a hundred by the end of the century, remained under
the control of Portuguese and half-caste males.
Constantly decried as a vicious regime, the prazo system continued
through the eighteenth century with little modification. The tradi-
tional boundaries changed only slightly in spite of various decrees to
reduce the size of the estates. The son zealously defended his father's
 C O L O N I Z A T I O N AND S E T T L E M E N T 85

land against the encroachments of his neighbors, the attacks of Afri-

can tribes, and legislation from Portugal. The classic report of Villas
Boas Truâo, governor of the Rivers of Sena in the first decade of the
nineteenth century, describes the stagnation of the area. In the three
towns of Quelimane, Sena, and Tete and at the posts of Manica and
Zumbo he found altogether about five hundred Christians, white and
black. His conclusions on why the population did not increase and
why such a fertile land was barren of people are: the lack of security
for person and property; the excessive size of the prazos·, inefficient
administration and an absentee landlordship which drained the coun-
try and put nothing in; the flight of the African colonos from the
slaving practices of the manor lords. N o crops were cultivated save
in African gardens. Religious morality was nonexistent, he claims, for
the Dominicans had become so corrupted by their environment that
they did nothing without payment. Education, commerce, and in-
dustry were not to be found.9
The report of another official holding office shortly after Governor
Truâo echoes the charges. Mendes de Vasconcelos e Cirne argued
that the estates could have been rich and profitable if placed in proper
hands — a category that did not include Indians. T o improve the
deplorable situation he suggested that the laws of inheritance be en-
forced; if no daughters were available, then the land should be given
to a poor Portuguese man, on the condition that he marry an African
woman within a year. He further suggested that no one be permitted
to own more than one prazo, that the Dominicans be obliged to culti-
vate their lands and conduct themselves more like servants of the Lord
or lose their grants, and that severe restrictions be placed on absentee
landlords.10
The Portuguese government outlawed the prazo system in 1832.
This legislation had no more practical result than did subsequent de-
crees in 1838 and 1841 and the elaborate diploma of 1854 which pro-
posed significant changes designed to promote Portuguese expansion
and settlement up the Zambezi. The abolition of slavery which, with
the head tax, had been the financial support of the prazeros did not
loosen their tenacious grasp on the most productive lands of Mocam-
bique. The prazero could only be deposed by force, and even when
he was chased into the bush by Portuguese troops he carried with him
his court and chiefs and native army to carry on "the ancient and
well-known struggle which closes out all periods of feudalism; the
sovereign power trying to strengthen its authority and the feudal
barons defending their traditional rights which are the very reason
for their existence." 1 1 As late as 1880 when the Lisbon government
86 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

declared all prazos to be the crown's property, Governor Augusto

de Castilho, a bitter enemy of the system, could make no fundamental
changes in its feudal nature. T h e head tax, the obligation of the native
to work for the proprietor, the commercial monopoly within the
borders of the prazo all remained intact even where Castilho's influ-
ence was most felt. B y these oppressive measures (to be adopted soon
by every other colonial power in Africa) the African was kept in a
state of subjugation and exploitation. From this grinding imposition,
Lugard observed, the natives "received no equivalent of any sort; for
neither were they protected from their enemies nor was the country
opened up by roads, bridges, railways, or any other works." 1 2
The turn of events from 1885 to 1895, however, the urgent neces-
sity Portugal now felt to occupy the hinterland of Moçambique, gave
the previously discredited system a new significance as an instrument
of colonial policy. The old-time prazero must go, but the system was
to remain. Major Caldas Xavier, a contemporary hero-philosopher,
called the prazo in 1888 indispensable for the native. Mousinho de
Albuquerque, whose pronouncements are in part the basis for much
of Portugal's colonial philosophies in the twentieth century, states
positively that the prazo plan must remain and even be extended to
the district of Mocambique; it is the only effective w a y of getting the
Portuguese to dedicate themselves to agriculture. He scorns the argu-
ments of the negrófilos who have protested the abuses suffered by the
African colonos; whenever a strong race conquers a people as inferior
as the Negro, Mousinho explains, abuse is a natural consequence.
While it is true that the prazo is similar to medieval estates, this is not
necessarily a deplorable condition, for the African, like the feudal serf,
does not pass from slavery to full citizenship in one day. A n inter-
mediate stage of servitude is needed to bring him into contact with
European civilization. Under the prazo system, according to Mou-
sinho, this beneficent tutelage may best be exercised; on the prazo
the African may be taught that only through hard work may he
achieve an advanced state of civilization. 13
Such reasoning pervades the 1888 "Report of the Commission to
Study the Reforms to be Introduced in the Prazo System of Moçam-
bique" 1 4 and the decree of 1890, drafted by Antonio Enes, which
gave the prazo the form it kept until its final abolition by the Salazar
government when the leases granted in the 1890's and early 1900's
expired. T h e prazo was held to be essential for the development of
modern Moçambique once the estates were taken from the unpro-
ductive senhores de terra and rented to more responsible individuals
 C O L O N I Z A T I O N AND S E T T L E M E N T 87

or companies for a specified period. The estates were to be auctioned

to the highest bidder, who would pay the government a rent con-
sisting of a substantial percentage (about 30 per cent) of the tax
revenue collected. T h e "Report of the Commission" outlined the re-
sponsibilities of the renter and the colono: in essence, the obligation of
the renter was to cultivate and develop the land and protect the A f r i -
can resident; for these services the colono was obliged to pay the
renter a yearly sum in either goods or labor, whichever was the more
appropriate to the landlord. The renter was still the supreme authority
over his lands. He could demand both taxes and labor from the A f r i -
can; he still administered justice and had a private police force of
sepoys; he still had a commercial monopoly within the boundaries of
his territory. The extension of these ancient privileges was considered
necessary by the colonial government; without them the renter would
have been powerless to recruit a working force for the large-scale
agriculture which had now begun to flourish in the Zambezi region.
The benefits received by the colono continued to be negligible. T h e
positive achievements of the new regime of the prazo s were two: some
physical improvement in the lands of Zambézia and the introduction
of capital investment in the region.
Generally the price for the twenty-five year concession was put
so high that the renter could not make a profit by merely collecting
taxes and was forced to cultivate part of the prazo. Many of the es-
tates were taken over by the Zambézia Company or were part of the
territory administered by the Moçambique Company.
In summing up the advantages and disadvantages of the system
Vilhena in 1915 concluded that Moçambique had slightly profited
from its continuation. He cites impressive figures to show that in
Zambézia agricultural production was higher than in non-prazo lands.
A second benefit was the fixing of the Negro to the land and obliging
him to work. On the other hand, the traditional abuses continued:
the state had little authority over the lands, and its normal administra-
tive functions were implemented there with difficulty; many renters
were concerned only with enriching themselves as quickly as possible
and instead of obliging the African to work on the prazo they made
contracts for the African's services in other parts of the province,
recruiting and exporting him like a slave; the renter failed to fulfill his
obligations to develop the prazo. Here Vilhena saw the weight of
tradition and inertia; the best guide for the traveler to Zambézia was
still, he suggested, the Ethiopia oriental of Father Joäo dos Santos. 15
Throughout Vilhena's study is an implied criticism of a colonial pol-
88 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

icy which had failed either to promote the interests of Portugal in

Moçambique or to bring civilization to the African tribes of the area.

The story of life on the Zambezi in the eighteenth and nineteenth

centuries is told in the history of the notorious Cruz family. The
founder of the dynasty, Nicolau Pascoal da Cruz, appeared on the
river in the 1760's as sergeant of a company of Indian sepoys. Cruz
himself was either Indian or Siamese. Settling in the vicinity of Tete,
he prospered rapidly: he married one of the donas of the Zambezi,
Luisa da Costa, half-caste proprietress of several large prazos. Nicolau
subsequently became a factor of the royal treasury, a town councilor
of Tete, captain of the fortress of Zimbabwe, captain of the Tete
militia, and, on occasions, acting governor of the Rivers of Sena cap-
taincy. He expanded the boundaries of his wife's prazos until the
estate known as Massangano was one of the largest in the colony.
Nicolau's son, Antonio, inherited many of his father's honors, but
not his loyalty, and was hanged and quartered in Moçambique town
in 1813 for having betrayed a Portuguese column under Governor
Truâo to the Monomotapa. From a union with one of the Monomo-
tapa's sisters, Antonio left a son, Joaquim José, who pursued a policy
of aggrandizement on the Zambezi. His ambitions brought him into
conflict with Pedro Caetano Pereira •— son of a Goan prazero —
who had overrun the left bank of the Zambezi from Lupata Gorge
to Zumbo. Both men freely stopped shipping to Tete, claiming fees
for right of passage, and both had their supporters in the desolate
little town of Tete, which was practically at the mercy of the power-
ful prazeros. The rivalry between Joaquim José and Pereira broke
into open warfare in 1853 when the latter attacked the Cruz fortress-
compound at Massangano and was driven off after a long siege. The
following year Joaquim José's private army scattered a small gov-
ernment detachment sent to punish him for insubordination, one of
the first incidents in the so-called Wars of the Zambezi.
Joaquim's son, Antonio Vicente da Cruz, the misanthropic Bonga,
was a perfect specimen for a positivistic study of prazo life in the
nineteenth century. Illiterate, thieving, cruel, barbarous, a drunkard,
he represented the sum total of the vices which have been held to
characterize life on the Zambezi in that period. But Bonga retained
a shred of mystical faith in his Portuguese inheritance. He proudly
displayed his insignia as major in the Portuguese army, a rank ac-
corded most of the prazeros. He had several of his daughters baptized
in the parish church at Tete. Like most of his contemporaries in the
 COLONIZATION AND S E T T L E M E N T 89

last desperate days of the hereditary prazos, he was miserably poor,

for the slave trade was almost dead and the land produced little.
From the death of his father in 1855 until 1866, Bonga, though
truculent and suspicious, lived in peace with the colonial government.
At his informal customhouse on the edge of the river he did collect
taxes on Zambezi traffic, but his demands were usually moderate, and
as a reward for his restraint he was made in 1862 Sergeant Major of
the Prazos of Massangano and Tipué. B y conferring such honors the
administration kept a semblance of public order in the district and
delicately maintained a semblance of authority. B y 1865, however,
after Livingstone's two visits to the region, the time seemed urgent for
an extension of permanent Portuguese authority over the independent
prazeros and the creation of a new order along the river (Lisbon had
even considered about i860 subsidizing a colony of German immi-
grants on the upper Zambezi). One of the first steps under the new
policy was to be the suppression of Bonga who, by virtue of living
close to Tete, seemed the most vulnerable of the local potentates. He
was accused of fomenting unrest and ordered to stand trial at Tete.
When Bonga failed to appear, a column of almost one thousand men
set out for Massangano in 1867. T h e force was defeated by Bonga's
private army, and in the next three years three more punitive expedi-
tions dismally failed to subjugate the prazero. A n armistice was made
in 1874, and when Bonga died in 1879 he was still a sergeant major and
buried with appropriate ceremony by a priest from Tete. N o t until
1887 was the stockade at Massangano taken in one of the decisive cam-
paigns of the Zambezi wars.
The struggles between the Portuguese government and the Cruz
family revealed both the resourcefulness of the prazeros and the
pathetic weakness of Portuguese control in the interior of Moçam-
bique. Bonga was neither a rebel nor a revolutionary; he fought in
defense of his own — the traditional independence of the prazero.
He sought no war with the colonial authorities and even refrained
from pressing his military advantage after defeating the attacking
armies. But he refused to submit to what seemed an arbitrary distant
authority, and in his resistance he was joined by other prazeros, local
tribes, and Zambezi adventurers. Against this array, the Portuguese
forces, made up of degradados, India militiamen, and African soldiers
who fled at the first opportunity, could do little. Portuguese authority,
after almost two hundred years of neglect, could not be restored so
easily in the turbulent estates of the Zambezi. 1 ®
90 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

T o revitalize the ineffective prazo system and to stimulate the

development of other parts of the province, the Portuguese govern-
ment from 1885 to 1900 encouraged the formation of concessionary
companies. T h e example of the newly formed British South Africa
Company undoubtedly stirred Portuguese hopes that several large
land companies operating in Moçambique would provide the necessary
resources and administrative help for the colony's immediate future.
Such help was most likely to come from outside Portugal and it was
clear that Portugal must put aside her reluctance to allow foreign capi-
tal in the African provinces. Nevertheless, even though the charters
of the most important companies were reminiscent of the powers
granted under that most Portuguese institution, the prazo system,
and even though the administrative councils of the companies had to
contain a majority of Portuguese citizens, their formation touched
off a lingering dispute. Critics of the companies had recourse to two
arguments, that they introduced a dangerous denationalizing element
into Moçambique and that they gave more profit to foreign investors
than to Portuguese colonial interests. T h e most eloquent argument
for the companies was the sad reality of the province in 1890. Some-
thing had to be done, even if it meant granting what seemed to be
extraordinary concessions to companies capitalized outside of Portu-
gal. Time has proved the government more far-sighted than its critics,
for whatever progress was made by the companies until the expiration
of their charters, it materially benefited the province more than it did
foreign stockholders.
T h e three great companies formed in the last decade of the nine-
teenth century were the Moçambique Company, the Niassa Company,
and the Zambézia Company, the last mentioned, however, not pos-
sessing a charter from the Portuguese government. Each of the com-
panies subsequently granted subconcessions to other smaller com-
panies. In 1900 the total area of land under the control of the three
companies was more than two thirds of the area of Moçambique. The
purposes of the companies were frankly exploratory, even speculative,
as manifested by the meager working capital, in proportion to the
tremendous size of the territories granted, put up in the first years
of the charters. Their hopes lay in the discovery of substantial mineral
deposits, the success of large-scale agricultural projects, and the let-
ting of concessions within the territory. Portugal's hopes, of course,
were equally speculative and were for the permanent occupation and
colonization of the area.
The most important of these companies — the one that held the
greatest promise for expansion into the interior — was the Moçam-
 COLONIZATION AND S E T T L E M E N T 9 I

bique Company, which grew out of a mineral-exploring concession

along the Buzi and Pungué rivers. Initial reports were encouraging,
and in 1889 the working capital was doubled to about $400,000. The
rise of the British South Africa Company, however, in the adjacent
territories made the formation of a richer, more powerful company
imperative. In 1891, therefore, the Moçambique Company reincor-
porated the original society. The basic charter was granted in that
year with modifying decrees issued during the decade. The new com-
pany found stockholders not only in Portugal but in other European
countries and South Africa who bought shares to the approximate
value of five million dollars.
B y the terms of the charter the Moçambique Company was given
sovereign rights to exploit and administer the more than 62,000 square
miles which now comprise the modern district of Manica and Sofala.
The concession was limited to fifty years, but could be withdrawn at
any time the company should fail to fulfill the terms of the charter
or become insolvent. The company was to be considered Portuguese
with headquarters in Lisbon and the majority of the directors Portu-
guese citizens resident in Portugal. The government was to receive
10 per cent of the shares issued and 7.5 per cent of the total net profits,
in return for which the government was to abstain from collecting
taxes in the territory for a period of twenty-five years. The rights
given the company included a monopoly of commerce; exclusive min-
ing concessions; exclusive fishing rights along the coast; collection of
contributions and taxes consistent with prevailing Portuguese policy
(among these taxes figured the usual native head tax, the surest guar-
antee for a constant labor supply); rights for the construction of
roads, ports, communication lines, and, with the approval of the
government, the privilege of granting concessions to others for such
construction; banking and postal privileges; and transfer of land up
to 12,500 acres to other companies and individuals. At the termination
of the concession all land under cultivation was to remain the property
of the company. Also, the company was obliged to give land to the
government for fortifications and military posts, and swore to hold
allegiance to the Portuguese government and to protect Portuguese
interests within its boundaries; it was required to maintain a police
force and assist in internal struggles. The company was bound to re-
spect the rights and customs of the Africans when these did not con-
flict with civilizing progress in the land. Municipal administration had
to be maintained and schools established in towns of over five hundred
houses. In the actual administration of the territory Portuguese citi-
zens were to be employed, and all employees of the company
92 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

residing in Moçambique were subservient to Portuguese law. At

Beira, capital of the company's lands, were located the departmental
offices of the treasury, port authority, customs, public works, agri-
culture and mines, and those of the secretary general in charge of
native affairs, education, and health. Judicial matters remained within
the colonial government's jurisdiction. The territory was to be divided
into various circumscriptions, each with a Portuguese administrator.
Finally, all points in dispute between the company and the state were
to be referred to an arbitration board.
In 1891 a charter was given the Niassa Company, although it was
not definitely formed until 1893; its principal source of capital was
England. All the lands of the province north of the Lúrio River com-
prised the concession area. The terms of the concession were almost
identical with those of the Moçambique Company, except that the
period of the Niassa concession was for only thirty-five years. This
part of the colony, still its most underdeveloped region, had neither
the mineral nor agricultural expectations of Zambézia and Manica
and Sofala, and a series of difficulties, not the least of which was a
bad administration, prevented the Niassa Company from realizing
any useful exploitation besides the establishment of Porto Amélia as
a center of trade and administration. The dream of a railroad from the
port to the lake, on which much of the territory's development de-
pended, never came true in the company's lifetime; in its absence
there was scant attraction for settlers and merchants.
The third great company formed in the 1890's was the Zambézia
Company, whose history also has its origin in mining concessions
granted in the previous decade. Some 80,000 square miles of land in
the districts of Quelimane and Tete made it the largest of the land
companies. Most of the area was made up of prazos. Its chief in-
vestors, more diversified than those of the Niassa and Moçambique
companies, were firms and individuals in South Africa, Germany,
France, England, and Portugal. The company was not responsible for
the administration of the territory. The absence of this burden and
the fact that it possessed some of the richest lands in the colony made
the company's operations more profitable than those of the Moçam-
bique Company. Many of the prazos in the company's domain were
let as long-term subconcessions, the most important being those to the
Boror Company, financed principally in Germany, and the Luabo
Company. These two and two other companies formed independ-
ently, the Sena Sugar Estates (an English firm) and the Société du
Madal (with headquarters in Paris) have contributed significantly to
the development of sugar, sisal, and copra production in Zambézia.17
 COLONIZATION AND SETTLEMENT 93
Although the companhias majestáticas ultimately proved a dis-
appointment to their stockholders and even, to a lesser extent, to the
Portuguese government, their contributions, especially those of the
Moçambique and Zambézia Companies, during their short existence
had greater significance for the colony than had the prazo in three
centuries. T o a large extent they initiated the transformation of the
interior of the province from a wilderness to an economically pro-
ductive region — a process still in its embryonic stage — and created
conditions permitting the steady, albeit slow, settling of the area by a
white population. T h e benefits the African derived from their pres-
ence seem less than negligible. 18
Although f e w small-scale farmers subleased land from the com-
panies, the great plantations brought in European personnel, some of
whom remained in East Africa. N e w towns grew up and several
old ones flourished again. The rebirth of commerce and the appear-
ance of a modest transportation system also helped to fix a small per-
manent Portuguese population in that part of the province which had
previously seen only administrators and garrison officers. Such gains
may have appeared ridiculously small to the casual observer or to
the impatient Portuguese citizen exasperated by his country's inde-
cisive colonial policies, but viewed against the background of inertia
and stagnation they represented an almost staggering advance in the
development of Moçambique.

The restless state of Zambézia during the late eighteenth century

and all of the nineteenth century was not always symptomatic of life
along the coast, even in the city of Moçambique. Administrative in-
dependence from India after 1752, though accompanied by increased
powers for the provincial governor and a plethora of legislative and
commercial decrees, did not check the town's drift into an undis-
turbed sleep. In his thirteen-year governorship ( 1 7 6 5 - 1 7 7 9 ) , Pereira
do Lago applied himself to the colony's problems with Pombaline
energy, reorganizing the local militia with Indian troops, encouraging
the production of crops and waging constant war against rebellious
tribes; but his efforts were useless, and in 1781, the Minister for Naval
and Colonial Affairs, Martinho de Melo e Castro, admitted that Mo-
çambique had reached the last stage of moral and commercial deca-
dence. Perhaps an indication of the kind of hopes Lisbon held for
its regeneration is seen in the shipment of thirteen prostitutes to Mo-
çambique in 1782. Contact with the outside world was limited to the
capital and the clandestine slave ports. T o try to hold the province
94 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

together, Melo e Castro ordered a military reorganization throughout

the land and a strengthening of the garrisons with Indian and A f r i -
can troops. T h e commercial monopoly of Moçambique island was
taken away and customhouses set up at Ibo, Quelimane, Sofala, In-
hambane, and Lourenço Marques. A n agricultural office was created
to introduce new crops and European techniques. A t the end of the
century the famous scientific expedition of Dr. Lacerda de Almeida
was dispatched to explore the upper reaches of the Zambesi — an
accomplishment in which he was aided by prazero Antonio José da
Cruz. These activities had some temporary effect, but they were no
permanent cure for the dilapidations and deep-rooted ills the colony
suffered.
In the i8io's the extent of Portuguese coastal occupation was the
same as in 1600 and consisted of forts and trading posts from Ibo to
Lourenço Marques. Reports of travelers and governors record the
apathy, disease, and neglect in these coastal towns. Lacerda speaks of
the rotting humidity of Quelimane: "In such a place everything con-
spires to produce in the population fevers, malaria, bilious attacks, in-
fections, dysentery . . . every sort of chronic disease coming from
rottenness. . . All this contributes to another worse misfortune: the
population does not increase; this year fifteen people died and three
were born. . ." 19 Sofala was a collection of shanties huddled around
a forgotten fortress garrisoned by convicts. Only the sparkling beauty
of the town of Moçambique, its color and charm, saved the provincial
capital from equally harsh descriptions. Other narratives, however,
refer to its poverty, immorality, and degradation. Neither in the
south nor in the north had the Portuguese penetrated appreciably into
the interior; to the contrary, their coastal outposts sustained periodic
onslaughts from bordering tribes. French vessels harassed local ship-
ping, seizing ivory and slaves.
The Liberal revolution in Portugal briefly shook the colony
much as it did Angola, plunging the island into a decade of anarchy.
Throughout the nineteenth century an intensification of African hos-
tility added to the chaos. T h e abolition of slavery cut off Moçam-
bique's main source of revenue, although the trade itself had brought
prosperity to only a few; a clandestine export of slaves continued for
some years, first to America and then to the French islands off Mada-
gascar. Arab slave traders continued to do business in the northern
part of the province, as Livingstone discovered in the 1860's. Sá da
Bandeira's antislavery decrees did result in several long-term advan-
tages, for the colony's shaken economy was diverted into agricul-
tural projects which by the end of the century constituted the major
 COLONIZATION AND S E T T L E M E N T 95

wealth of Moçambique. But the process of readjustment was slow,

and the long years of the nineteenth century were for many Portu-
guese ones of despair.
Only in Delagoa Bay did fortune smile on Moçambique in this
trying period. There the present-day capital Lourenço Marques
emerged from its early stockade status to a position as one of the
largest and most important ports of the East African coast by the
end of the century. Once a temporary factory visited by coastal
traders, the area meant little until Austria set up a small trading post
and fort. T h e interlopers were easily expelled, but fearful of similar
action by more formidable intruders, Portugal decided to keep a per-
manent post of some sixty men in Lourenço Marques. French corsairs
destroyed the fortress in 1796; four years later a new stockade, with
warehouses and administration buildings, was erected on the site of
the modern city. The small town was forced to resist innumerable
attacks from the Landin tribesmen, who finally in 1833, aided by
some Zulu warriors, massacred the garrison. But fresh forces were sent
to Lourenço Marques to occupy the post.
In the middle of the century the Boer republic in the Transvaal
began to realize the importance of Lourenço Marques as a port of
entry, and from the i86o's on, the flow of goods through Lourenço
Marques steadily increased. Where there had been two houses of
European construction in 1854 there were one hundred in 1877. T w o
years later Lourenço Marques was raised to the category of city. For
more than fifty years, however, the port had the reputation of being
a pest hole, and f e w visitors had kind words for the city that is now
one of the loveliest in southern Africa. In 1857, the Englishman Mc-
Leod complained liverishly, " T h e town consists of a miserable square
of squalid-looking houses . . . is filthy in every sense. . . It is im-
possible for anyone to see the town without being struck with the
idea how it is possible for human beings to live there." 20 Even in 1890,
Lourenço Marques was for another English traveler "the vilest, filth-
iest, and the most deadly place to white men I know of in all the
hospitable world," 21 although by the end of the decade two other
travelers treated the city more gallantly, referring to it as "cosmo-
politan" and a "genteel prosperous t o w n . " 2 2

T h e problems of colonization besetting Moçambique were dupli-

cated in Angola, where conditions for permanent settlement were
perhaps harsher — in spite of glowing accounts reaching Lisbon each
year about the bounteous healthy plateau country. Traders lived in
96 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

the deep interior far from the few military stockades the Portuguese
maintained, but these men were not colonists; if they owned land,
they generally used it to supply themselves with slaves. The contribu-
tions were slight; as a colonizing force they achieved, and could
achieve, little in such isolation, and the fragments of Portuguese cul-
ture they may have imparted to their mulatto families usually dis-
appeared within a generation. Without constant stimulation and sup-
port from Portugal, the task of colonization was an almost impossible
one before 1900. Nowhere do the words of Professor Macmillan have
better application than in Angola from 1600 to 1900: "The white
man, if he would recognize it, suffers with all Africans the influence
of a land which is deficient if not lacking in most of the essential
means of civilization." 23
The two centers of Portuguese occupation through the long cen-
turies were Luanda and Benguela. Massangano's influence and size
dwindled after its brief span as temporary capital of the colony during
the Dutch occupation of Luanda. The two coastal cities were chiefly
slave ports upon which converged the caravan routes from the dark
interior, but Luanda was more than a slave port and provincial capi-
tal. For centuries it was the only white city south of the Sahara.
Even in 1890, at a low point in Luanda's history, Mary Kingsley
could write, "Say what you please, Loanda is not only the first, but
the only, city in West Africa." 24 Commodore Owen in the 1820's
calls it a large empty city. Winwood Reade, about i860, speaks of
the great fine churches and public buildings, "but the streets of Luanda
are ankle-deep in sand, the public buildings are either decaying or in
status quo·, oxen are stalled in the college of the Jesuits. All that re-
mains of the poetry and power is dying away in this colony. It is the
Dark Ages in the interregnum between two civilizations. When will
the second begin? " 25
Benguela in 1845 had 600 houses, but only 3 8 white men and one
white woman. The rest of the population was made up of 179 mulat-
toes and 2,200 Negroes, half of whom were slaves. A great number
of the houses were in ruins, and grass grew in the middle of the
streets.26 Almost fifty years later, the waspish Daniel Crawford, an
energetic champion of Anglo-Saxon enterprise, excoriates the drowsy
little city: "Portuguese to the core, here you find a tropical town
nearly fast asleep in 1889 — asleep, and no wonder. For most of these
Portuguese have been boiling in this tropical kettle for many years,
with the climactic result that many have a lethargic glaze in their
eyes. . . Scarcely one Portuguese lady in the place. All their colonies
have gone shipwreck by defying the foundation truth that whenever
 COLONIZATION AND SETTLEMENT 97

duty summons man, woman has a corresponding duty in the same

place. . . A monthly steamer in these dismal days is the only distrac-
tion." 27 Even in their deterioration Luanda and Benguela were the most
substantial European towns in West Africa. T h e English and French
ports, by comparison, were poor factories maintained by a f e w fever-
ridden men. In the struggle for survival in the most inhospitable re-
gions of Africa the Portuguese pioneers need acknowledge the superi-
ority of no other European people.

T h e wealth of Angola is of recent improvisation, for not until the

1900's has the heralded potential of the colony become a reality.
Poverty and frustration faced the Portuguese who sought to gain a
livelihood other than from slavery. In the seventeenth century that
observant French voyager Pyrard de Laval called Angola the poorest
country in the world. In 1810 Governor Antonio de Melo sent the
frankest of reports to his government. " I should like to be able to
bring this colony to court so that your Royal Highness and his minis-
ters could actually see the deplorable state it is in. . . Perhaps they
will then believe that Angola is no Brazil. . ." The previous year
iVielo had written, " W e who live in this country are always on the
verge of dying of hunger in the dry years or being swept away in
the rainy ones. In such a land what can prosper and who will dwell
here?" 28
Even in the celebrated highlands of Angola, Portuguese settlers
did not prosper. In 1682, in from Benguela on the Bié plateau, they
founded a fortress at Caconda near the rising of the Caporolo River.
After a century of checkered history, the fort was transferred to the
present site of Caconda by Governor Sousa Coutinho, who had the
notion that in a healthier location Caconda could become the nucleus
of a settlement and the center for trade in the region. "Since the for-
tress is situated in the best part of the province we must see that it is
populated with industrious and hard-working people; to this end let
all degradados and European soldiers who go there with a desire to
work in agriculture and industry be free from military service and
let them marry; the fortress may be garrisoned with natives who, al-
though not capable of agriculture and industry, are very satisfactory
soldiers." 29 He goes on to suggest that the African will be drawn into
the community by the good example of the Europeans. Sousa Cou-
tinho's vision was Utopian for Angola. Caconda did not fulfill its
high expectations. The Portuguese intermarried and lived with their
slaves and families in their compounds, but the colony did not pro-
9 8 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

gress. T h e fortress was one of the advanced points of Portuguese pene-

tration and had a population of about 250 men at the beginning of
the nineteenth century with as many as 15,000 Africans residing in the
vicinity, but by 1840 the fields were abandoned and the inhabitants
lived in poverty. Hermenegildo Capelo and Roberto Ivens found that
Caconda had f e w Portuguese in 1878, although the community was
impressive for its mixed population and shrewd Afro-Portuguese
traders.30
Sousa Coutinho was not blind to the fact that degradados were
not the ideal colonial stock and tried during his governorship to pro-
mote the immigration of farmers from Portugal and other colonies.
He was aware that the exiles found the slave trade .more attractive
than tilling the soil or practicing a trade, and went so far as to sug-
gest to the home government that foreigners would be more wel-
come. His pleas were renewed, without effect, by the Baron of Mo-
çâmedes, who urged the subsidization of poor farmers willing to
come to Angola.
Moçâmedes' correspondence played an important part sixty years
later in the settling of southern Angola. In 1848 an antislavery nativist
revolt in the Brazilian city of Pernambuco made recent Portuguese
immigrants there fearful of their future, and they petitioned the Lis-
bon government for assistance in finding a salubrious area of Africa
to which they could go. The Overseas Ministry, which for fifteen
years had been unsuccessfully trying to promote the settling of Africa
by making every kind of promise, was delighted at the unexpected
inquiry and drafted a lengthy memorandum on the area around the
port of Moçâmedes, taking much of the information from the Baron's
reports. Pleased with Lisbon's response, which included the promise
of financial aid, 170 Pernambucanos sailed for Angola the next year.
In 1850 another 130 Portuguese sailed to join their friends. T h e new
arrivals suffered incredible hardships; Moçâmedes was still too small
to provide for even such a modest number of immigrants in spite of
the best efforts of the governor general, who was on hand personally
to arrange for their reception. Drought and the failure of the cane
crop made some of the families decide to move to Luanda. Other
families were sent to the plateau outpost of Huila. But the settlement
of southern Angola had begun. In 1853 a small fishing colony at
Porto Alexandre was established along the coast south of Moçâmedes.
From Portugal's province of Algarve a f e w fishermen and their fami-
lies made their way, some in tiny fishing vessels, to Angola. T h e y
prospered and built up the fishing industry of southern Angola, today
one of the most important segments of Angola's economic life.
 COLONIZATION AND S E T T L E M E N T 99

Angola's accidental good fortune in finding colonists for Mo-

çâmedes and Huila did not last. In Lisbon the newly formed Conselho
Ultramarino, or Overseas Council, tried to evolve plans of action to
mitigate the economic devastations caused by the abolition of slavery.
In decrees of 1856 the government was authorized to contract a loan
exclusively for the purpose of "establishing colonies in Angola and
Moçambique to be composed of citizens of Portugal and the adjacent
islands." The loan was to be repaid from duty collected on the im-
portation of wine into the provinces. The Council made elaborate
studies of transportation, the regions to be chosen for the colonists,
and possible methods of administering the settlements, but the plans
never got beyond the drafting stage.31 Frontiersmen like Silva Porto
explored the plateaus of Bié and Huila, but their solitary explora-
tions did not have the effect of drawing Portuguese to Angola, and
only a handful of colonists could be persuaded to go to West Africa
in the next two decades. In the early 1880's the colonial office again
had recourse to the penal colony system, setting up or expanding
camps at Malange, Pungo Andongo, and Caconda.

In the year 1880, however, the largest band of settlers seen in

Angola up to that time appeared in the vicinity of Humpata on the
Huila plateau. The group consisted of about three hundred Boers,
the "Thirstland Trekkers," under the leadership of the patriarchal
Jakobus Botha. On their arrival in Portuguese West Africa they were
advised by Father Duparquet of the Congregation of the Holy Ghost
to go to Humpata. There the district governor granted them extensive
tracts of land. The story of the Boers is one of the most curious inter-
ludes in the annals of Angola. In 1875, to escape what they considered
British tyranny, they set out from near Mafeking, journeying with
their wagons and cattle across Bechuanaland and into South-West
Africa south of the Etosha Pan. When the group finally made their
way across the Cunene into Angola, over three hundred had suc-
cumbed to the rigors of the trek, but the three hundred who sur-
vived formed a startling number, by Portuguese standards, of willing
colonists.32
The Portuguese government, traditionally sensitive to the presence
of denationalizing forces in its African colonies, felt mixed emotions
about the Boers. They regarded them, on the one hand, with natural
suspicion; on the other, they welcomed the opportunity of gaining
useful allies in the work of developing the planalto and pacifying
the African tribes of the region. In the end, Lisbon made the gesture
ΙΟΟ PORTUGUESE AFRICA

of nationalizing the Boers in 1882 as Portuguese citizens. Artur de

Paiva, the young army officer who was made adviser to the new
colony, was enthusiastic about the Boers, and his reports were in
some measure responsible for Portuguese restraint. Paiva himself mar-
ried Botha's daughter. His vision was for a union of Boer and Portu-
guese colonists from which would come the prosperous growth of
Huila. Paiva principally admired their great courage and religious
zeal. He admitted that they were selfish, argumentative, and violently
intolerant of the African, but these drawbacks, he felt, were out-
weighed by their promise of becoming industrious farmers and ranch-
ers.33 The journalist Henry Nevinson, who loathed every aspect
of Angolan life, regarded them with scorn and admiration: " A slov-
enly, unwashed, foggy-minded people, they are a strange mixture
of simplicity and cunning, but for a knowledge of oxen and wagons
and game, they have no rivals. . . They trade to some extent in
slaves, but chiefly they buy for their own use, and they almost always
give them their freedom at the time of marriage." 34
The contributions of the Boers did not measure up to Paiva's an-
ticipations, although traces of their presence are still felt around Hum-
pata. Some of them did become successful farmers, and their well-
tended farms were welcome havens for weary travelers. But more
than farmers the Boers were, as Nevinson noted, hunters, fighters,
and wagon drivers. They gave the Portuguese valuable assistance in
the systematic pacification of the Ovimbundu in the years around the
turn of the century. With their massive carts drawn by ten and twelve
pair of oxen they penetrated the hinterland in all directions, following
native trails or blazing new ones, some of which have become the
principal roads of southern Angola. In the country which they at
first referred to as the land of milk and honey, the Boers multiplied
and prospered moderately, their numbers augmented from time to
time by small groups of countrymen from the Transvaal or South-
West Africa, but their inveterate restlessness kept them from sinking
their roots too deeply into the soil of Huila. Some went down to the
coast; others migrated beyond the Hungry Country to the Belgian
frontier and disappeared. The majority who remained in the planait o
grumbled more and more about their grievances, real and imagined,
with the Portuguese. The approach of the Moçâmedes railroad, new
restrictions on firearms licenses, a growing sense of isolation in a
Catholic, Portuguese-speaking community made the Boers receptive
to overtures from the Union government for a return to South-West
Africa where, among other things, the Union wanted to counteract
the influence of the German population. In 1928-1929, some 1,500
Ox-drawn Boer cart, Angola, ¡93η

The docks at Lourenço Marques, Moçambique

Modem bridge, Moçambique
 COLONIZATION AND SETTLEMENT IOI
Boers left Angola; thirty-five families remained behind, some of whom
left in the next few years. But the Boers did not forget their fifty
years in Angola and the graves they left behind. In 1957 four hundred
descendants of the original colonists came back to Humpata on a
pilgrimage to the promised land of their fathers.
The presence of the Boers in Huila forced an intensification of
direct Portuguese colonization in the early 1880's. Impoverished, gen-
erally ignorant families were recruited in all parts of the metropolis
to be sent off at the government's expense to southern Angola to in-
sulate the Boer community. A t the same time the region was closed
off to further shipments of degradados. Most of the colonists were
from the Algarve and Minho districts of Portugal and from the island
of Madeira. The rapid indiscriminate selection of settlers did not pro-
duce immediate results, and the colony, half forgotten in the dis-
tractions of the Conference of Berlin and the immediate necessity for
a military pacification rather than civilian occupation of the African
provinces, did not receive the continuing assistance it needed. T o neu-
tralize the influence of the Boers was an easy task, since Botha and
his men were not empire-builders or even acquisitive, but the union
of the two white cultures, anticipated by Paiva, did not come to pass.
Paiva himself complained that the new Portuguese colonists were a
poor lot whom the Boers, proud of their Dutch and French inheri-
tance, disdained to marry, even when the differences of religion could
be removed.
In spite of the government's neglect, the privations of a frontier
existence, the native wars at the end of the century, and the isolation,
the stubborn peasants hung on. In a sense Huila is today the most
Portuguese region of Angola, its small farms replicas of those in Por-
tugal and Madeira. So intensely did these conservative immigrants
entrench themselves in the province that they now consider them-
selves Angolan, not Portuguese. Like the Boers whose influence they
were sent to counteract, they do not take easily to change and are sus-
picious of new agricultural techniques and political schemes originat-
ing in distant Luanda or more distant Lisbon. Not only did these
tenacious people survive, but they increased their numbers. By 1913,
Sir Harry Johnston estimated 2,500 Portuguese to be residing in the
vicinity of Lubango (Sá da Bandeira) .35

In 1900, when Portugal gave up her efforts for the direct coloniza-
tion of Angola the white population of the province was about nine
thousand, a substantial part of which was administrative personnel.
IO2 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

T o this reality it is hard to adjust the image of Portugal as a nation

of colonizers. In four centuries she had built coastal towns in Angola
and Moçambique and erratically maintained stockades in the interior.
Tete, Sena, and Massangano were the only towns in the interior
worthy of mention. T h e Portuguese who went to Africa went for
trade or gold or administration. Those who stayed did so as masters
of the land or of the African; the land they seldom worked and the
African they often sold. It is a curious, though explainable, com-
mentary on the divergent patterns of Portuguese expansion that for a
Brazil and an India with their agricultural and commercial develop-
ment, there should have been an Angola and Moçambique, productive
only in terms of human beings.
Yet it would be a mistake to assume that Portugal's occupation of
East and West Africa in these years achieved nothing. If her role as a
white colonizing force was scarcely visible in many parts of the two
provinces, she accidentally rendered valuable service to the African
people she found there.
In three centuries Portuguese administration had apparently done little
to justify any rights based on effective occupation, and it has become
usual to dismiss the Portuguese with contempt — as if all were said when
it was sorrowfully recognized that they intermarried freely with Africans
and, therefore, "degenerated." Wayside gardens in Angola are witness
that members of the little Portuguese garrisons still throw in their lot with
the adopted country as completely as the Dutch or British have ever done.
Between them the Arabs and the Portuguese introduced most of what
are now the staple African crops, maize, yams, manioc (cassava), the
sweet potatoes, besides sugar-cane, pepper, ginger, citrus, tomatoes, pine-
apple, and tobacco . . . Africa as the Portuguese found it was useless even
as a port of call to supply the East Indian ships with fresh supplies in their
long voyage to the more important East. There is much to be said, there-
fore, for the Portuguese who made this momentous contribution, and
also succeeded in getting their African pupils to adopt these new crops
as their own.38
 ν

m*
T H E MISSIONARY EFFORT

Τ HE role of the Christian missionary in Africa is a difficult one

to define. For some he is a relic from a Victorian past trailing memories
of discredited policies of white imperialism. For others he is a
dedicated individual who has made real contributions to the welfare
of the African. In most of Africa the age of missionary political in-
fluence is past. Only where the Christian missionary has been able to
reconcile the traditions of his Western European culture with a gen-
uine sympathy for the political, as well as the spiritual and physical,
advancement of the African does he not stand in humanitarian isola-
tion. The simple direct relationship of earlier days between the mis-
sionary and the African population has now been complicated by the
rise of the city in some parts of the continent, by divergent colonial
and national policies, and by the spirit of nationalism, and it may be
that the missionary dream of the past century for Christian Africa
is a dead letter.
But generalities which can be stretched to include most of Bantu
Africa seldom apply to the Portuguese colonies. By a curious circum-
stance the situations prevailing in another part of Africa at a given
moment are usually ones which prevailed in Angola and Moçambique
several centuries before or will probably prevail there a hundred years
hence. It is always dangerous for a student of African affairs to assume
that what may be true in Nigeria and the Belgian Congo and Uganda
and the Union of South Africa (a most unlikely hypothesis) will also
hold true in Portuguese Africa. N o other colonial power on the conti-
nent is more bound to traditional ways, but these ways are not Bel-
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

gian, English, or French. Today Angola and Moçambique, save for

their busy ports, are still among the least known parts of Africa. A
knowledge of the superficial aspects of the colonies may be revealing,
but it is not sufficient for an adequate understanding of past and pres-
ent problems. In the course of Portuguese history, in Iberia and over-
seas, certain attitudes and traditions have become part of Portugal's
reality and deeply influence her policies and conduct in Africa. A case
in point is the missionary endeavor in the two colonies.
It is hardly necessary to say that Portugal is a Catholic nation.
More significant, perhaps, is that a number of Portuguese spokesmen
have proclaimed her on occasions the most Catholic of nations, a dis-
tinction she may well share with her neighbor Spain. Centuries of
combat against the Moors, a religious as well as a political enemy,
forged a Christian nationalism which has given a fundamental identi-
ty to Portugal's personality. Her insularity has tended to impart to
Portugal's Catholicism a provincial dogmatic quality which, ironically,
an ultramarine expansion has strengthened, not weakened. Portugal
has long considered it her unique mission to implant her faith among
heathen peoples. The concept of the cross and the sword has had a
very real significance in Brazil, Africa, and the East, and the time-
worn remark attributed to Vasco da Gama, "I seek Christians and
spices," contains more truth than rhetorical fancy. That the history of
Portuguese Africa is closely bound to missionary efforts there is a
logical expression of national character.
In native affairs the missionary to Portuguese East and West Africa
has always occupied a pre-eminent position. Since 1500 he has made
himself responsible not only for the spiritual welfare of the African
but also for his educational and physical welfare. With certain Prot-
estant missions in Africa it is sometimes difficult to say whether the
social or religious aspect of their program is more important, but in
justice to the Catholic missions in Portuguese Africa there has been
until very recently no such problem. First things first. Historically this
has meant the conversion of the Negro. While it is true that such
orders as the Jesuits and Dominicans maintained schools and hospitals
in the two colonies, their social conscience was generally that of their
age. The African clergy educated in the colleges of Africa or Portugal
were created in the image of the European priest and often showed
less concern for the material welfare of the native people than did their
teachers. Nevertheless, whatever cultural advantages the African in
Angola and Moçambique achieved from 1500 to 1900 were gained
through the guidance of the Catholic missions. Only in recent years
has the Portuguese government been able to accept growing responsi-
 THE MISSIONARY EFFORT IO5

bilities for assistance to the African, and in the task of bringing modern
civilization to Africa, the church and state still work in common ac-
cord. Article 24 of the Colonial Act of 1930 reaffirms the traditional
relationship. "The Portuguese Catholic missions overseas, instruments
of civilization and national influence, shall have juridical personality
and shall be protected and helped by the State as institutions of educa-
tion."
The co-operation of church and state in Portugal's African prov-
inces has not always worked to the best interests of the church. The
African's acceptance of Christianity for reasons of political prestige
was seldom rooted in sincere convictions (in spite of the example of
Afonso I) and brought the church little profit in terms of lasting
Christian influence. Furthermore, the example of white Christians
manipulating their black Christian brother, often turning him against
his own people, was not lost on the African.
Nor has the close identification of church and state always meant
harmony in the Portuguese colonies. Long before the Liberal inter-
ludes in the nineteenth century, which are sometimes held responsible
for most of the evils and decay associated with the African missions,
missionary fathers were denouncing colonial officials for corruption
and brutality, a charge answered in kind when the priests were ac-
cused of greed and mundane interests.1
Although Portugal in the nineteenth and the early twentieth cen-
tury was torn into two camps on religious issues, as far as the colonies
were concerned there has seldom been a fundamental split between
the government and the church over the need for missionaries. The
most outspoken Liberal, frequently anticolonial and anticlerical, was
usually willing to admit the necessity of missionaries, albeit secular
priests, for the task of civilizing Angola and Moçambique. Mousinho
de Albuquerque's accusation that when Portugal most needed the
missions in order to advance her claims in Africa they were lacking
and that, when other countries were expanding evangelical work in
Africa, Portugal's Liberals were smothering hers in only a half-truth.2
The decline of the church's program in Africa coincided with political
and economic declines, and the collapse in the nineteenth century was
the inevitable result of conditions originating one and two hundred
years earlier. In the corrosive atmosphere of Africa few European in-
stitutions have survived without fresh inspiration from the metropolis.
In the Congo, for example, an early scene of some of the most fervent
missionary work in all of Africa until the last one hundred years, prac-
tically no trace remained in the late nineteenth century of Christian
ιο6 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

There are, of course, reasons other than climate. One Portuguese

historian says that the early missions failed to sink permanent roots in
Angola because of the slave trade, the failure to educate African
women, and the chronic lack of clergy. 3 Oliveira Martins attacks the
method of evangelization, arguing that "the idea of introducing Ne-
groes to civilization by means of Catholic metaphysics is an illusion."4
In 1773 the Bishop of Angola complained of the urgent need for mis-
sionaries and the low quality of those who came from Lisbon. "Some
come to seek their fortunes and pursue their own interests . . . others
satisfy their passions . . . others flee from the discipline of their prel-
ates. . . And from these greedy, lustful, expatriate, rebellious, and
libertine men what else can be expected than the spread of vice and
scandal in which this land is already buried." 5
The shortage of missionaries was a constant problem in Angola
and Moçambique. Even in the years when Portugal herself had a sur-
plus of clergy, few were willing to risk ending their days, suddenly,
in most cases, in Africa. The dedication of the Italian Capuchins in
the Congo, of the Holy Ghost fathers in southern Angola, and even
of the Protestants in the interior of Angola has been a cause for shame
and envy — and sometimes inspiration — to many Portuguese.® But
while the record of Portuguese missionaries as spiritual leaders of the
African people and as educators has admittedly been spotty, where
they have had sufficient funds and personnel, as in Moçambique at
the end of the sixteenth century and in Angola in the first part of the
seventeenth, their record compares favorably with what has been done
in other parts of Africa.

In Moçambique the trajectory of Catholic mission work ran par-

allel to the political course of the colony, although in the period of
decline along the Zambezi the clerical population suffered more
acutely than the often opulent semi-independent prazeros. From 1506,
and perhaps a year earlier, secular priests and representatives of vari-
ous orders who had made their way from Portugal held services at
Sofala and Moçambique. It was Portuguese custom to have, whenever
possible, two priests at each large fortress in Africa and the East. The
gradual penetration of the interior and up the Zambezi by Portuguese
merchants and soldiers in the first half of the sixteenth century
brought in its wake a small number of priests who began the work of
evangelization among the Africans attracted to the European outposts.
Until 1534 all fathers in Portuguese East Africa were under the juris-
diction of the Diocese of Funchal, but with the establishment of a
 THE MISSIONARY EFFORT

bishopric in Goa in that year, supervision of the East African field

now came from India. Among the celebrated names that have enriched
the history of Moçambique was that of Saint Francis Xavier, who
spent six months in 1541 and 1542 on the island, preaching and as-
sisting in the relief hospital.
In 1560 two Jesuit fathers and a lay brother arrived in Moçam-
bique. One of the priests was Gonçalo da Silveira, destined to become
the most famous of Catholic missionaries in southern Africa. In 1556
his evangelical zeal had caused him to leave Lisbon where he had the
reputation of being one of the city's most eloquent preachers. In India
he waited restlessly for permission to lead a missionary expedition to
the spiritually desolate lands of the Monomotapa of which he had
heard on his journey east. Once back on the island of Moçambique,
Father Silveira, disregarding suggestions from government officers,
left for the mainland after less than a week. He spent seven weeks at
the kraal of an African chief near the present site of Quelimane, where
he converted the chief and five hundred of his subjects. But the great
challenge for Gonçalo was still the lands of the Monomotapa, and
leaving two fellow Jesuits in charge of the new mission he headed up
the Zambezi. At Sena and Tete he resisted the blandishments of the
Portuguese population and pushed on. Through the ministrations of
Captain of the Gates Antonio Caiado, he was extended a welcome to
the Monomotapa's capital at Zimbabwe, which he reached at the
end of the year.
Gaunt, fever-ridden, but driven by messianic intensity, Father Sil-
veira set about his work. After twenty-five days of training in the
Catholic faith, the Monomotapa, his favorite wife and his sister, and
three hundred relatives and tribal leaders were baptized. Gonçalo's
success with the royal family was his undoing. Swahili traders, seeing
an end to their own influence over the impressionable chief, told the
young African leader that Silveira had come to his territories as a spy,
that he had secret powers of incantation and death. The potentate re-
solved to murder the missionary. Hearing of his plans, Caiado unsuc-
cessfully tried to forestall them and went to warn Silveira. He found
the missionary already aware of his fate. T h e priest held Mass for his
Portuguese friends and went on with his work among the African
tribesmen, baptizing on the next day some fifty villagers. That evening
he was strangled in his sleep by seven men, who threw his body into
the river. T h e impact of Silveira's death was enormous in Lisbon and
the Catholic world. The subsequent Barreto expedition was in part
designed to avenge his murder, and for a short while the attention of
both Rome and Lisbon was centered on a distant African river.
ιο8 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

Discouraged by the death of Father Silveira and the reluctance of

their converts to put aside their native ways, Silveira's two companions
returned to Goa in 1562. Seven years later two priests and two
lay brothers from the Society took part in the ill-starred Barreto ex-
pedition, Father Mondaros being Barreto's principal adviser. When
the expedition failed, so did the mission. Mondaros had little hope for
effective work among the tribes of Zambézia, characterizing them as
committed to their own tribal customs, unable and unwilling to un-
derstand the affairs of the soul. He saw clearly that missionary work
on the Zambezi was a difficult and perhaps useless enterprise, and
after 1570 the Jesuits temporarily abandoned their plans for Mocam-
bique.
The Jesuits returned in 1607 more hopeful than the far-sighted
Mondaros of converting the African. In that year two Jesuits came to
Zambézia, and seven more priests arrived in 1610. Within five years
they had constructed eight churches along the river up to Tete. For
the rest of the century a handful of Jesuits were along the Zambezi; as
explorers of the sertào and in trying to carry their faith to the remote
recesses of the region they performed feats of exploration unequaled
in Portuguese mission history. A t their headquarters on Moçambique
island they maintained a college from 1610 to 1760, although as a
training center for local clergy it did not achieve the success of the
famous Jesuit seminary at Goa or the college at Luanda. More than a
theological center, it became a hospital and asylum.
It was inevitable that soon after their return the Jesuits would be
in conflict with the Dominicans, who had come to dominate the mis-
sion field in Moçambique during the last thirty years of the previous
century. The Dominicans angrily demanded that King Philip keep
the Jesuits from Zambézia and the lands of the Monomotapa, asserting
that they would only serve to confuse the work of conversion. Lisbon
briefly entertained the notion of splitting the colony into various mis-
sionary districts, but since this solution was not viable the rivals were
instructed to work in different parts of the province and avoid pro-
longed encounters. Since there were only three centers of Portuguese
influence in Moçambique — the capital, Sena, and Tete — this in-
struction had little effect.
From the middle of the sixteenth century the Dominicans had
moved through East Africa with great speed and energy. Along the
coast from Sofala to Mombasa and throughout the lands of Zambézia
and those in back of Sofala, in dangerous and pestilential country, they
spread faith and empire. T h e Dominicans of this first impulsive stage
were dedicated selfless men chosen carefully by the Congregation in
 THE MISSIONARY EFFORT

Lisbon. Wherever they could, the Dominicans adopted the tactic of

working with the African chiefs; they tried to make each conversion
a permanent decision and to this end educated the Africans in the faith
they were to accept. By 1590 they stated they had baptized some
twenty thousand Africans, a small figure only when compared with
the ridiculously grandiose estimates from other Portuguese posses-
sions and the New World. The Dominicans were entrenched at the
court of the Monomotapa, into whose territory the headquarters of
the order at Sena sent a steady flow of missionaries. The late sixteenth
century was the brief apogee of Dominican work in Moçambique.
The church activities in Moçambique were periodically inspected
by a visitador from Goa, but in 1612 the churches of the colony were
removed from the jurisdiction of the Diocese of Goa and an inde-
pendent ecclesiastical administration set up suffragan to the metro-
politan see. The administrative vicar for Moçambique had all the
secular powers of a bishop, although he remained a simple priest. The
seat of the ecclesiastical government was at Sena until 1780, since the
Zambezi was the scene of the most wide-spread mission efforts. In
1783 Moçambique was made a prelacy with a bishop in partibus
infidelium.

The beginning of the missions' decline in Moçambique occurred

about 1590 with the temporary debacle of Portuguese fortresses
around Sena and Tete resulting from the raids of the Zimba. Several
Dominicans were brutally murdered, and the rest abandoned the
area. Once the panic had passed, the Dominicans, as well as the Jesuits
and secular clergy, returned, but the impetus of the 1570's and 1580's
was broken. Clergy from Portugal were now reluctant to go to a col-
ony beset by both disease and hostile Africans. Goan Dominicans and
secular priests were dispatched to help carry on the work; many of
the new arrivals lacked zeal and scruples, and the Dominican authori-
ties in India were openly accused of unloading their undesirables and
failures in Africa. In spite of financial grants from the crown sub-
sidizing in part the evangelical program, many of the missionaries de-
voted themselves more to personal gain than to the work of the church.
Village churches had to be abandoned for lack of personnel and the
churches in the larger towns were understaffed. In 1630 there were
probably less than fifty priests in the entire colony. African villagers,
without the guidance and encouragement of the white fathers, quick-
ly lost the veneer of Christianity they possessed and reverted to their
traditional ways. Some priests sorrowfully concluded that converting
I Io PORTUGUESE AFRICA

the African was a well-nigh impossible task. The inception of the

overseas slave trade in the middle of the century was perhaps a final
blow to the ambitions of the demoralized Portuguese clergy in Mo-
çambique.
But the years were not without recompense, in terms of prestige
at least, to the Dominicans. Responding to clerical diligence and polit-
ical necessity, various African chiefs, the most important being the
Monomotapa, submitted with their families to baptism; through most
of the century the missionary fathers could count on the half-hearted
support of the paramount chiefs, although the relationship was fre-
quently jeopardized by the acts of the Zambezi prazeros. It was im-
possible, however, to take full advantage of these conversions, which
were often a compromise with tribal traditions and not based on any
genuine understanding or acceptance of Christianity. The Goan Do-
minicans, furthermore, were often content to use their association with
the Monomotapa for their own devices. A number of the Monomo-
tapa's sons, as well as other African youths, however, were persuaded
to prepare themselves for the priesthood at the Dominican seminary in
India. The majority of them, captivated by the cosmopolitan glitter
of Goa or Cochin, remained in India; others who returned to upcoun-
try Moçambique did not, from contemporary accounts, contribute
notably to the anticipated spiritual progress of their land.
It was hoped that the arrival of missionaries from other orders and
the addition of African priests would serve to bolster the diminishing
number of Dominicans and Jeuits in the seventeenth century. Several
small groups of Capuchins came to Moçambique in the first half of
the century, but they were not able to withstand the colony's climate
and withdrew. In 1681 eight friars from the order of Säo Joäo de Deus
took over the care of the Moçambique hospital from the Jesuits. At
about the same time a royal decree ordering the establishment of a
seminary on the island for the training of African youths was received;
a conflict of interests between the Jesuits, Dominicans, and the Augus-
tine administrator doomed the project to failure, even had it been pos-
sible at that late date to obtain sufficient staff and students. One of
the main arguments in favor of the seminary was the need for bi-lin-
gual priests, since only a few Europeans with long residence in the
colony were prepared to carry on the work of Christianity without
the doubtful services of a translator.
The decay which spread through Moçambique in the eighteenth
century had its effect on the clergy as well as on the administrative
and civilian population. The influx of Indian traders, Lisbon's erratic
economic policies, and a general lack of interest in the colony threat-
 THE MISSIONARY EFFORT I I I
ened to eradicate European presence. The Portuguese in Moçambique,
demoralized by the uncertainties, appeared to seek whatever security
was contained in the accumulation of wealth. F e w governors during
the century were not accused of corruption and easy financial deal-
ings, and lesser officials made their fortunes at the expense of the gov-
ernment or in violation of the law. In this milieu of laxity, the conduct
of the Dominicans hardly offered a refreshing contrast. "Scandalous"
is one of the milder epithets used against the order's conduct in the
eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. " T h e Dominican friars [at Sena]
. . . are violent and oppressive in their behavior. . . T h e promulga-
tion of knowledge is most strenuously opposed by the priests as utterly
subversive of their power, its strongest support being the ignorance
of the people." 7 In violation of their vow of poverty, Dominicans in
Zambézia held great tracts of land which they administered like any
prazero, collecting head taxes and dealing in slaves. In addition to their
commercial activity some Dominicans took over civil and administra-
tive responsibilities. Although the dearth of Portuguese men in the
interior resulted in the Dominicans' accepting such charges, and they
did help maintain Portuguese sovereignty there, these activities were
not always consistent with their missionary obligations. Some Jesuits
also participated in agricultural and mining ventures along the river
to the detriment of their one-time evangelical zeal. Missionaries from
other orders and secular priests responded to the tenor of the times.
The church was in effect confronted with a moral crisis in Moçam-
bique; the occasional pompous processions which dazzled the African
did not disguise the fact that the missionary spirit had been largely re-
placed by material values. The tumble-down churches at Sena and
Tete and Quelimane attested not only to decline in missionary work
but to the disappearance of its inspiration.
The Marqués de Pombal's quarrel with the Society of Jesus had
its repercussions in Moçambique in 1759 when the nine Jesuit priests
there were banished from the colony. The Jesuits in Moçambique de-
served better of Pombal. Although they too had succumbed to the
pervasive moral climate, the Jesuit fathers were more active than those
of any other order. Their property was confiscated and sold at auc-
tion; the prazos reverted to the crown; the college at Moçambique
became part of the governor's residence; their churches along the Zam-
bezi were abandoned.
Toward the end of the century an ecclesiastical census of the
colony revealed the following: Moçambique island had a cathedral,
one parish church, two chapels, the monastery of Säo Joäo de Deus,
the Dominican monastery, the former Jesuit church of Saint Francis
112 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

Xavier, and a clergy of six priests and five lay brothers; Mossuril had
three parish churches and two priests; Sofala, one church and one
Dominican; the parishes of Quelimane and Sena, six churches and
three priests; Manica, one parish church and a chapel entrusted to the
care of two Dominicans; Tete, three churches and two clerics; Zumbo,
Lourenço Marques, Querimba, and Amiza, each a church and a priest.
Such was the physical extent of Christianity in Moçambique, and the
spiritual influence of the church did not extend far beyond these
points. A n estimate of some years earlier had put the total number of
Christians in the province at 2 , 1 4 1 , a figure which slowly decreased
as the century came to its close, since priests were now baptizing only
those Africans in mortal danger. N o t even the slaves on the estates
were being indoctrinated.
If mission affairs were bad in the eighteenth century they were
calamitous in the first half of the nineteenth. Along the Zambezi only
a vestige of Christianity remained, and on the island the situation was
not much better. In 1825 the number of clerics in the province was
ten, seven of whom were Goan. T h e Liberal government's decree of
1834 abolishing religious orders had little meaning f o r Moçambique,
since b y then they were virtually extinct in the colony. T h e lands of
the Dominicans, who had more prazos than priests to manage them,
were confiscated and handed over to local captains major.
In 1843 the Portuguese government had some second thoughts on
the traditional role of the church in African affairs and set about shor-
ing up the dilapidated missionary program. A w a r e of the unwilling-
ness of the metropolitan clergy to serve in Moçambique, the govern-
ment sent an urgent appeal to the Archbishop of G o a to speed priests
to East Africa, but the archbishop was obliged to reply that a similar
reluctance prevailed in India. In some years there was not a single mis-
sionary in the interior and only three or four along the coast. In the
1850's the government b y a series of recommendations attempted to
collect ten African youths to be educated at seminaries in Santarem
and Goa, but the measures failed f o r lack of candidates. Bartle Frere,
writing to the Archbishop of Canterbury in the early 1870's, remarks
on the scarcity of Portuguese priests in the colony; of the f e w he en-
countered he could not "learn that it was considered any part of their
duty to attempt Missionary work among the Africans." 8
T h e slow upturn in the ecclesiastical fortunes of Moçambique
came in 1875 with the arrival of three priests from the College of Por-
tuguese Overseas Missions at Sernache do Bonjardim. T h e college had
been organized in the 1840's to train missionaries f o r the colonies to
replace those from outlawed orders. T h e college functioned until
 THE MISSIONARY EFFORT

1 9 1 1 ; more than three hundred of its graduates went overseas. Its

graduates faced difficulties in the early years of their work in Moçam-
bique. The atmosphere was hostile, and the task of repairing the deso-
lation wrought by two hundred years of negligence and decay almost
impossible. A t first they lived among the Europeans in the colony,
helping in the several hospitals and teaching rudimentary letters to
the children of the towns. In the last decade of the century, under the
driving inspiration of Antonio Barroso, prelate of Moçambique, the
religious reconquest of the interior was cautiously undertaken, al-
though a large-scale campaign for converting the African population
was to be delayed for many years by the usual lack of funds and clergy
and by the delays in the military pacification of unsettled areas. In
spite of the frequent animosity of governors and district officials, the
number of missions and parishes increased. B y 1910 seventy-one
Catholic missionaries were engaged in Moçambique, thirty-six from
the college at Sernache.
The remainder of the priests were either secular or from various
orders, once again in legal operation. In 1881 the Jesuits made a re-
appearance; four members of the Society accompanied Paiva de An-
drade to Moçambique. From then until 191 o, when the establishment
of the Portuguese Republic produced a wave of anticlericalism result-
ing again in the dissolution of religious houses in Portugal and the
second deportation of the Jesuits, more than one hundred members
of the Society, Portuguese and foreign, were active throughout the
colony. T h e y were joined in 1898 by the Franciscans, who made im-
portant contributions to Moçambique's primitive, almost nonexistent
educational system.
When the Jesuits left Moçambique they turned over their missions
to German Friars of the Divine Word who ran them until the First
World War. The Germans were but a part of a number of foreign
Catholic missionaries invited or attracted to Portuguese East Africa
at the beginning of the twentieth century. Among the first were five
White Fathers who were subsidized by the Portuguese government. A
f e w Salesian priests brought their educational talents to the colony
from 1907 to 1913, when their schools in the Moçambique district
were given to civilian teachers. Several Trappists from Natal briefly
served in the province. After the end of the war, to Niassa came —
uninvited — French fathers of the Monfort Congregation and a f e w
Consolate Italian friars. The nationalism of the Portuguese was sore-
ly tried by the abrupt appearance of these missionaries, but the need
for priests and teachers of any nationality to aid in the occupation of
the country was too great for them to be rejected.
114 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

The fifteen-year span of the Portuguese Republic was not the

easiest period for the Catholic missionary. From 1 9 1 1 to 1919 Cath-
olic missions were banned in the colonies, but the Republic never got
around to setting up more than a handful of its lay mission schools,
and in 1919 the need for their services was such that they were al-
lowed to return. The Catholic priests sometimes had the experience
of being subjected to administrative harassments. Brito Camacho,
High Commissioner of Moçambique in the 1920's, accused them of
selling themselves, making ridiculous teachers, and even of running a
lottery in Lourenço Marques, "bought by a father from a Durban
J e w . " Camacho vowed that he would never give the assistance of his
government to a mission program which did no more than catechize
the African. 9

Where the Dominicans dominated the mission scene in East Africa,

in Angola the Jesuits were all-powerful, and in the Congo king-
dom, the Italian Capuchins. A s the way of life on the Zambezi prazos
counteracted and corroded the aspirations of the missions, so in An-
gola the demands of the slave trade made a sincere evangelization of
the African impossible, although on neither coast could the prazo or
the slave trade be assigned full responsibility for the collapse of the
church's work. Another difference was that Angola had a much higher
percentage of African clergy than did Moçambique — in part a testi-
monial to auspicious beginnings in the Congo. On the other hand,
there were no Goan priests in West Africa; missionaries arriving from
Brazil were exclusively Portuguese.
Long after Portugal had dismissed the Congo as a major area of
interest in Africa, the missionary activity begun there before 1500
continued with undiminished, perhaps increased, fervor under the
charge of the Capuchins. Even before their arrival in the 1640's the
Portuguese Catholic Church had not given up entirely. A f t e r 1570 the
Dominican order kept three to five fathers there; several Franciscans
and Discalced Carmelites carried the gospel to the Congo until the
first decade of the seventeenth century, when the bad humor of the
Manicongo forced them to abandon the field. T h e Jesuits, after their
initial disappointments in the middle of the previous century, returned
to Sâo Salvador in 1614. In 1624 the college sponsored by a Luanda
philanthropist began operation, but in the morally turgid climate of
the Congo capital its contribution was slight. Young African men
were slow to enroll, and by 1640 only two priests were left at the col-
lege. In 1669, following spasmodic attempts to invigorate its program,
 THE MISSIONARY EFFORT

the Society left the Congo in order to concentrate its efforts in Lu-
anda.
The creation of the Diocese of the Congo and Angola in 1596 was
intended to bolster sagging Portuguese influence. T h e honor, it was
hoped, would impart new luster to the Manicongo's court, draw him
closer into the orbit of Portuguese influence, and help reconcile his
quarrels with the great chiefs of the land. T h e principal offices of the
bishopric were held by European clergy, the majority of the lesser
offices by African priests educated in Lisbon or Säo Salvador. T h e
elevation of the Congo, like so many other projects for the region,
did not achieve its desired goal. Bishop Manuel Baptista, writing to
the king in 1612, complained of the profitless sacrifice made by Euro-
pean fathers in the unhealthy climate amidst a people so variable in
their faith. Many there were who labored for evil purposes, f e w for
the good. He reproached the African canons who, allying themselves
with Spanish and Dutch alike, opposed the work of the Portuguese
priests and undermined Portugal's prestige. 10 In the abandonment of
Säo Salvador by Europeans in the first part of the seventeenth century
the Bishop and his aides participated. More often than not the actual
seat of the bishopric was Luanda, and after 1676 no bishop sat at Sao
Salvador.
One of the consequences of the Manicongo Dom Alvaro II's em-
bassy to Rome in 1608 to plead for more missionaries was the creation
in 1620 of the Apostolic Prefecture of the Congo. This the Vatican
entrusted to Italian Capuchin friars who were to work under the
authority of the Bishop of the Congo. T h e first mission leaving Rome
in 1640 was blocked in Lisbon by the newly proclaimed government
of Portugal. But another mission bypassed Lisbon, obtained authoriza-
tion from the king of Spain, and arrived in the Congo in 1645 — an
act of defiance to Portugal's priority in the Congo. Impressed by the
great number of baptisms made by the Capuchins shortly after their
arrival (calculations ran as high as fifteen thousand a year, the dis-
tinction between baptism and true conversion being somewhat
blurred), the Pope sent a new group of missionaries to the Congo in
1648, fourteen friars, mostly Spaniards and Flemish, the latter chosen
because of their ability to communicate in Dutch to the captors of
Luanda. In the same year the proposal was made by the Propaganda
Fide in Rome to send, at the expense of the king of Spain, an arch-
bishop, two bishops, and thirty missionaries, all Spanish or Italian, to
follow up such auspicious beginnings. Portugal had resented the ear-
lier violation of her traditional rights of Catholic patronage in the
Congo, and quite naturally Joäo I V protested this new infringement
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

of Portuguese privilege. T h e victory of Salvador de Sá restored Joäo's

sovereignty over Angola and the Congo at a timely moment; now he
had more persuasive arguments. The following year Joâo bluntly or-
dered the Capuchins to declare their fidelity to Portugal or be expelled.
Under duress the Capuchins yielded, and in 1650-1651 several of
them took up residence in Luanda and Massangano to begin mission
work in Angola.
The relations of the Capuchins, the majority of them Italians, with
Portuguese administrators were reasonably harmonious. T h e y talked
enthusiastically of a Christian Congo kingdom, envisioned more than
a century before by Manuel and Afonso I. By 1655 about thirty fri-
ars, divided almost equally between the Congo and Angola, main-
tained eight mission stations in the two regions. A short five years
later, the inevitable reaction had begun. Only fifteen priests now re-
mained, many of them having a decided preference for the more civ-
ilized, reputedly healthier lands of Angola.
Since reinforcements from Europe arrived slowly, the Capuchins
began to think in terms of an African clergy, but plans for the estab-
lishment of a seminary collapsed and plans to send likely African
candidates to Rome were regarded skeptically by the Portuguese, who
have always held that, whenever possible, African youths should be
educated in Portuguese by Portuguese. But Portuguese opposition was
not primarily responsible for the Capuchins' failure to bring large
numbers of Africans into the priesthood. Principally the failure was
the result of their inability to create Christian communities in the in-
terior which might have supplied the candidates necessary for the
success of their plans. Isolated stations in the bush run by several
priests whose strength was sapped by malaria and dysentery were not
enough. Mass baptism added only to impressive statistics. Intertribal
wars and the ravages of the slave trade produced chaos where there
should have been tranquillity. Against such a background it was not
surprising that neither Italian Capuchins nor Portuguese Jesuits could
create an adequate African clergy in a European image.
T h e fortunes of the Capuchins ebbed and flowed during the rest
of the century. A number of stations were maintained in the back
country, and there were usually several Capuchins in Luanda, but the
mission work did not expand. The eighteenth-century missionary en-
deavor of the Capuchins in Angola and the Congo is a familiar story.
For whole decades the work was abandoned or entrusted to one or two
fathers. T h e arrival in the 1770's of a dozen Capuchins did not stay,
and scarcely postponed, the final attrition. T h e Franciscan monk,
J o i o de Miranda, who went to Sâo Salvador in 1781 was shocked at
 THE MISSIONARY EFFORT II7
its collapse and the spiritual impoverishment of its inhabitants. He
remarks that there had been no priest there for eighteen years. 11 B y
1800 the work of the Capuchins in Angola was, for practical purpose,
at an end. For those who hold that the Portuguese have been inade-
quate missionaries in Africa, the results achieved by more than four
hundred foreign Capuchin friars in the Congo and Angola during a
period of almost two hundred years offer an interesting failure for
comparison.
The Capuchins were diligent men usually selected with care by
their superiors for West African assignments. Although they pre-
ferred Angola to the Congo, the Capuchins were willing to serve for
long years of isolation in the heart of the Congo backcountry. T h e y
were known to deal in slaves and to work them; otherwise, their rec-
ord was probably the best of any mission order working in Africa
until the present century. The total of their baptisms was fantastic:
100,000 by one priest from 1645 to 1666; 1,750 by another in forty
days; 13,000 by Friar Giacinto di Bologna in 1747; 340,000 baptisms
and 50,000 marriages by the Capuchins together from 1677 to 1700.
Critics scoff at these overblown figures, arguing that the Capuchins
operated almost no catechism schools and that few of them knew the
native languages. For these reasons and because there were no mission-
ary sisters to educate the African woman, they say that the Capuchins
built on sand. It is true also that the colonial government was not
always helpful, although on occasions Portugal did provide subsidies.
But the failure of the Capuchins — and the failure of all other missions
in Portuguese Africa from 1500 to 1900 — rested on deeper reasons
than these or climate, scanty personnel, and doubtful techniques of
evangelization. T h e principal reason was that the missionary offered
nothing to the African but a disembodied doctrine, many of whose
disciplines were distinctly distasteful. Where were the superior ad-
vantages of European civilization which went with this faith? T h e y
were not found in the slave trade, in the armed incursions in the in-
terior, in the example of the Portuguese traders who often led a life
more African than European. Nowhere except in Luanda was Portu-
gal able to transplant a European way of life, and only in a f e w other
areas was her military power permanently convincing. Without other
cultural stimuli the convictions of a few good men, haltingly expressed,
and the example of monastic existence could never have prevailed
against the suspicions and indifference of an African population having
its own traditions, whose passing associations with other Europeans
were largely violent.
118 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

When Paulo Dias reached Luanda in 1575 he found that a small

chapel had been constructed on the island by the several score Portu-
guese who lived or traded there. Occasional services were held by
priests from the Sâo Tomé ships. When the city was moved to the
mainland, a parish church and a Jesuit residence were among the first
buildings to go up. Within the town itself the members of the Society
accompanying Dias baptized numerous Africans, but possibly remem-
bering their trying sojourn in the Congo they limited their activities
to the area close to Luanda. Only with the spread of Portuguese arms
up the Cuanza did the Jesuits penetrate the interior of Angola. But
they remained, and about half of the twenty-five Jesuits going to
Angola up to 1593 perished there.
The missionary thrust of the Jesuits into the hinterland was of
short duration. Luanda offered excellent possibilities for the unique
talents of the Society, and from 1600 they concentrated their activi-
ties there, dominating, in the eyes of their contemporaries, life in the
capital. Their most notable contribution was the Jesuit college which
educated many Africans, mulattoes, and Portuguese throughout most
of the seventeenth century. From this college emerged both a native
clergy and a half-caste administrative class. The educated mulattoes
formed most of Luanda's lesser bureaucracy, to the discomfiture of
the white residents who chose to hold them responsible for most of
the colony's problems. The Jesuits became the center of controversy.
They tried to create for themselves the role they played so success-
fully in parts of South America, that of protector of the indigenous
peoples. The economy of Angola being founded on the slave trade —
in which the Jesuits participated — their pretensions brought them
into immediate conflict with both governors and local residents who
considered the Jesuits as meddlers and hypocritical trouble-makers.
Frequent were the recriminations to Lisbon against their arrogance.
Enemies of the Jesuits argued that members of the Society were often
more engaged in commerce than in catechizing Africans and that al-
though they received a substantial royal subsidy, they were getting
rich from real-estate transactions, from the lands under their protec-
tion, and from the slave trade. The Jesuits were active in the shameful
traffic; most of those in Angola subscribed to the prevalent belief that
the best way to convert the Negro was to sell him so that he might be
introduced to Christianity through work on American plantations.
Several ships belonging to the Society were engaged in the Angola-
Brazil commerce.
The Jesuits were joined in Luanda by Tertiaries of Saint Francis
who assisted in educational work and hospital care. In the interior
 THE MISSIONARY EFFORT lip
secular priests generally attended the spiritual needs of the fortresses.
In the seventeenth and later centuries evangelization in the Angola
hinterland was entrusted for the most part to secular priests — and
the Capuchins — in contrast to Moçambique where the Dominicans
dominated Zambézia.
T h e Dutch occupation of Luanda brought a halt to Portuguese
missionary labors. In the capital, schools and monasteries were closed;
in the interior, many posts had to be abandoned in the face of resur-
gent African enmity. After the liberation the restoration of the pro-
gram offered many difficulties, which the colonial and metropolitan
governments tried to help overcome by financial assistance. T h e
shortage of priests was in part met by the influx of Capuchins and
eight Discalced Carmelites. The Jesuits extended their activities up the
Cuanza and sent several of their order further into the interior. Do-
minican friars appeared in Angola from time to time, but it was Portu-
guese and African secular priests who continued to bear the main re-
sponsibility for the Angola hinterland. B y the end of the century the
situation was barely equivalent to that existing in 1640. The sixty mis-
sionaries in the colony, half secular and half from various orders, ap-
peared to have lost some of their ardor, and complaints about their
conduct began to mount.
In 1 7 1 6 the seat of the bishopric was officially transferred to Lu-
anda, thus confirming the reality of the past sixty years. At this time
there were in Angola, excluding the Congo, about twenty-five chapels
or parish churches scattered through the interior each with a priest of
its own. T h e Jesuits continued to be the most influential order in the
colony. Their college was again in operation, and on their enlarged
estates they sought to train their African charges in the simple ways
of Christian society — although it was not unknown for some of their
pupils to be dispatched to Brazil in the hold of a slaver. Most of the
craftsmen in Angola now came from the small Jesuit factories and
training schools. The Capuchins were going through another critical
period. Their enthusiasm for life in the distant bush had begun to
wane, and there were but six friars in Angola in 1693. Other orders
also shunned the deep interior, preferring to make their contribution
in the vicinity of Luanda, where they kept schools and a hospital. The
colonial government continued to make valuable grants of land to the
various orders to supplement the royal subsidy, and in a financial sense
the missionary orders in Angola did not come upon the hard times
suffered by their colleagues in Moçambique. But the work of the
secular clergy in the interior did suffer from lack of funds. In many
years the royal treasury gave nothing, and without the land which
I 2O PORTUGUESE AFRICA

provided a fairly steady income to the orders the secular clergy were
hard pressed — unless they chose, which happened with increasing
frequency, to take part in the commerce of the region.
In the middle of the eighteenth century the deterioration acceler-
ated. As the wealth of the congregations grew, their zeal flagged; hard-
ly a Jesuit or Franciscan left Luanda for the backcountry. So the loss
to Angola with the expulsion of the Jesuits was educational; their
evangelizing was scarcely missed. The college, however, and the train-
ing schools were of some value to Angola, since they were the only
centers of enlightenment, albeit dim, in the colony. Whatever failings
the Jesuits had, it may be said that they were on occasions the con-
science of Angola and the only mitigating force between the African
and his oppressors. Even that harsh critic of Catholic practices in Por-
tuguese Africa, David Livingstone, had praise for their accomplish-
ments.
B y 1800 there were nine or ten fathers and perhaps twenty-five
parish priests, half of them Angolans, in the province. T h e sixteen
churches standing in the interior were for the most part not regularly
attended. T h e African clergy was half-educated, although more dedi-
cated than the old-time Portuguese who had succumbed to inertia and
spiritual sloth. Missionary functions were by now a formality, the
continuation of a habit started long ago and kept alive through an ill-
defined passive sense of responsibility. The African, if he paid any
attention to the vague gestures toward his conversion, was progres-
sively less influenced by the presence of itinerant fathers, even when
they were of his own people. Nevertheless, Angola, principally be-
cause of a constant small number of young African men taking vows,
was in a better position than Moçambique when religious orders were
disbanded in 1834. But by the middle of the century in all of Angola
there were to be found five priests, two in the capital, two in the L u -
anda parish, and one in Benguela.
Unable to obtain Portuguese priests to go to Angola, the Lisbon
government made overtures to the Capuchins, who refused to return
to the familiar scene. T h e offices of the Propaganda Fide in 1865 pro-
posed French fathers of the Order of the Holy Ghost. Aware of the
growing European interest in Africa, Portugal reacted coolly, as
she had done in the seventeenth century to the Capuchins' request, to
the suggestion of accepting priests who, although avowedly responsi-
ble to the H o l y See, were probably more French than Catholic in their
sentiments. Portugal spoke of the arrangement whereby the Capuchins
had remained in Angola as dependents of the Holy See but under the
jurisdiction of the Bishop of the Congo. On these conditions the first
 THE MISSIONARY EFFORT I2I
Holy Ghost missionaries were admitted to Angola. After fifteen years
of Portuguese suspicion and French truculence, rife with minor in-
cidents and recriminations, a fruitful association began to develop.
The Portuguese government gave the order free transportation to
West Africa, free entry privileges, and later, direct financial help.
For its part, the Holy Ghost mission has probably done more for
Angola than any other missionary group, with the possible exception
of several Protestant boards. Outspoken defenders of the African, they
have had frequent brushes with colonial administrators. T h e y were
among the first European inhabitants of southern Angola and have
contributed to its development; most of the schools and infirmaries in
that part of the colony were established by the Holy Ghost mission.
Their trade schools have helped produce the small nucleus of African
artisans. On another front the Holy Ghost fathers, under the gifted
guidance of their most famous Angolan missionary, Father Dupar-
quet, took over the training of African secular clergy in the last two
decades of the nineteenth century. Although the number of graduates
was not large then, or afterwards, from their main seminary at Huila,
they helped tide the church through its critical years.
From 1875 secular priests from Sernache do Bonjardin joined the
handful of missionaries stationed in Angola. T h e graduates from the
overseas mission college, most of whom served as parish priests, set
about rebuilding the ruined churches and drawing the African into
the European community. Their work was slow, complicated by ex-
treme poverty, and limited at first to a f e w key spots in the province:
Säo Salvador, N o v o Redondo, Caxito, Dondo, Golungo Alto, Duque
de Bragança. The most important work was done at Sao Salvador do
Congo by that most remarkable missionary in Angola's history, Father
Antonio Barroso, to whose labors is owed the regeneration of Portu-
guese mission work in Angola and Moçambique. Arriving in 1881 at
the scene of one of Portugal's greatest overseas religious triumphs —
the court of Afonso I — he patiently swept away the neglect of cen-
turies in preparation for the spiritual and political reoccupation of the
Congo. A t Sao Salvador he erected, in addition to the chapel, a school
and hospital, an observatory, and a work farm. Out from the ancient
Congo capital he established small village schools run by Africans
whom he had trained. What Father Barroso accomplished in the few
years of his residence in the Congo was, by previous standards of mis-
sionary efforts in Angola, miraculous. An energetic man himself. Bar-
roso saw no inconsistency between Christian teaching and the obliga-
tion of the Negro to the work. Reverting to one of the classic defenses
of slavery, that through labor the savage may achieve a state of Chris-
12 2 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

tian civilization — a notion once more becoming popular in Portu-

guese colonial thought — Barroso saw the emergence of the African
coming not from a literary education, but from a practical training in
agriculture and manual crafts. In preparing the African for his role in
Angolan society, Barroso believed that the missionary was of primary
importance both to his church and the state.
Several orders, notably the Benedictines, sent a f e w fathers to
Angola in these years. In 1881 sisters of Saint Joseph of Cluny went
to Luanda and later to Moçâmedes where they operated schools for
the instruction of women. Other nuns followed to assist in the health
and educational programs in the larger Angolan towns. In 1900 there
were more than 125 priests, nuns, and lay brothers working in Angola,
and by 1 9 1 1 missionary activity was sufficiently revitalized to with-
stand the effects of the war and the legislation of the new Portuguese
Republic. T h e lay missions intended by the Republic to replace the
religious missions had only faltering existence from 1913 to 1919, and
since the latter date the church evangelical has had steady expansion
throughout the colony.

When the writings and personality of David Livingstone dramat-

ically centered the popular attention of Europe and America on
Africa, the response of the Protestant churches to the apparent need
for an extension of missionary services in southern Africa was almost
immediate. Angola and Moçambique, scenes of much of Livingstone's
travels as well as targets for his antislavery sentiments, attracted their
share of European and North American evangelists. The first con-
tacts between the Portuguese and members of what many of them
regarded as an alien, if not heretical, faith were not always pleasant.
In the troubled years of the late nineteenth century the Lisbon and
colonial governments looked upon the Protestants as advance scouts
for territorial adventures by her neighbors in Africa, principally the
English. The Portuguese were not without justification in their sus-
picions. T h e Universities' Mission to the Shire highlands had resulted
in the loss of a part of Niassa which Portugal had long held to be
hers. Rhodes had made adroit use of missionary penetration to push
his claims in doubtful areas. Even the Holy Ghost fathers in Angola
had made ambiguous remarks about French sovereignty in regions
bordering the Congo River which were traditionally in the Portu-
guese sphere of influence. These incidents, plus others real and
imagined, and Portugal's inherent insularity — a sentiment also pres-
ent in the empire — hardened her attitude toward foreigners in her
 THE MISSIONARY EFFORT 123
African provinces. The period 1885-1890, the years of the Con-
ference of Berlin and the British ultimatum of 1890, were the worst.
The Portuguese were overcome by such a hysteria of suspicion that
they distrusted their leaders and distrusted themselves. T h e sense of
self-conscious weakness of this period further contributed to Portu-
gal's preternatural fears for Angola and Moçambique.
Nevertheless, Portugal has honored in substance her obligations
under those international or bi-lateral treaties to which she was party.
The Berlin A c t of 1885, the Brussels Act of 1890, the Anglo-Portu-
guese Treaty of 1891, and the Treaty of St. Germain-en-Laye of
1919 all contain provisos for the freedom of religious movement in
the African colonies, subject to national security and order. This
does not mean, of course, that Protestants in Portuguese East and
West Africa have always been free from annoyances, legal obstruc-
tions, and occasional sharper conflicts with the colonial administration
(in fact, the Protestant missions in Moçambique today are suffering
what may only be called religious persecution). One of the most
vexing issues in the early twentieth century was a series of decrees
establishing Portuguese as the required language in all mission in-
struction. On the other hand, some Protestant missionaries misused
their position during the early years of their residence in Portuguese
territory by fomenting disaffection among the Africans. Even the
period when the Republic was in power did not completely reduce
the friction between the two faiths, in spite of the fact that the Lisbon
government made a startling offer to help subsidize Protestant mis-
sion work. Friction still exists, in part because the Portuguese have
chosen sometimes to set up Catholic churches and missions near
Protestant centers, and is bound to increase when an African con-
sciousness becomes a serious factor in Angola and Moçambique. U p
to now, it has created problems but not impossibilities for the Prot-
estants, the majority of whom have earned the admiration of the
local administration for their services and dedication, although they
have not dispelled the basic antagonism toward their faith.
There have been a variety of Protestant groups engaged in the
two provinces since 1880. 12 The most important work in Angola has
been done by the group formed of the American Board of Commis-
sioners for Foreign Missions and the United Church of Canada, by
the Methodist Episcopal Church, and by the Brethren's Mission. T h e
distinction of being the first, however, is reserved for the English
Baptist Missionary Society. The Society, stimulated by Stanley's
explorations of the Congo River, sent two men in 1878 to investigate
the area as a possible mission field. Finding it hard to pass beyond Säo
124 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

Salvador toward Stanley Pool, Messrs. Comber and Grenfell set up a

small station at the old Congo capital. Because of its poverty and the
keen competition of Father Barroso, the Society's progress has been
relatively slow. By 1930 they had three stations in the Portuguese
Congo, a hospital, and numerous schools.
In 1880 three members of the American Board, one of them a
Negro, arrived in Benguela from Lisbon to begin a meritorious mis-
sionary program among the Ovimbundu of the Benguela highlands,
work in which they were joined six years later by the United Church
of Canada. The first station was at Bailundo. Their initial years in this
unoccupied part of Angola were uncertain because of the turbulence
resulting from the military pacification of the planalto and from the
rubber boom which kept the upcountry in a state of unrest until the
period of the First World War. From that time onward, the growth
of the combined missions has been phenomenal. The headquarters at
Dondi has become the largest mission station in Angola. In 1930,
over 90,000 African Christians were carried on the missions lists and
the number was being swelled by 5,000 a year. Five hundred and
fifty schools, including two theological and training schools on a
secondary level, taught 25,000 students. The school for boys at
Dondi, Currie Institute, founded in 1914, is famed as a model institu-
tion for the education of African youths.
Throughout the highlands at main missions and outstations the
almost one hundred members of the joint American and Canadian
Board have worked with the Africans, helping them build modest
churches and schools and training an African staff to maintain them.
As opposed to most Portuguese Catholic missionaries in Africa, who
tend to view the African as a child, the members of the Board, like
most Protestant missionaries in Angola, approach him as an adult
citizen of his own world. He is treated with equal respect, not good-
natured tolerance. Mutual participation in the work of the missions
involves mutual responsibility. In this respect it is possible that the
Protestants are building more solidly than did the Jesuits and
Capuchins and that in the total absence of white leadership the work
of the Protestant boards would continue.
In the field of education and scholarship the missionaries of the
combined Board have made outstanding contributions. Men like Dr.
Walter Currie, Dr. John Tucker, and Dr. Gladwyn Childs have
added signally to African pedagogy and anthropology. Members of
the Board have created a small Christian literature in Umbundu
translation. The hospital at Dondi attracts patients from every part
of the colony.
 THE MISSIONARY EFFORT 125
The work of the Methodist Episcopal Church in Angola is note-
worthy for its early struggles and for the remarkable growth the
program has undergone in recent years. Begun in 1885 by the ex-
traordinary Bishop William Taylor of Africa, it has been located in
Luanda and the interior toward Malange. In all of Angolan history
no missionary group suffered more than the members of Bishop T a y -
lor's self-supporting missions. T o read the Angolan correspondence
of the 1880's and 1890's in Bishop Taylor's African News is to realize
again how cruel Africa could be to the foolish and unprepared. N o t
all of the Bishop's missionaries had his stamina (when over seventy,
he averaged eighteen to twenty miles a day traveling through the
bush on foot), and the missionaries and their families died with pa-
thetic monotony, in spite of the reportedly healthful air of Malange
and Pungo Andongo. Self-supporting missions, though ardently
championed by Taylor for their economic opportunities, were folly
in Angola — as they were along most of the coast. T h e y made a
little money but f e w converts, since the major exertions of the mis-
sionaries went into lumber mills and farms.
In 1897 the Methodist Board of Foreign Missions took over what
remained of the Angolan mission personnel and stations. Possibly
because of its impecunious beginnings, the evangelical work of the
American Methodists was discouraging for a number of years. In the
first third of the century there were instances of considerable friction
between some of the missionaries and the Portuguese administration,
the issues being based on Portuguese fears of denationalization of the
African and the missionaries' resentment at government restrictions
on their teaching methods. But these frictions have largely disap-
peared and with the emergence at the main station of Quessua of
boarding schools, a hospital, and shops, and with an increase in the
number of outstations, the progress of the Methodist program has
been rapid.
In terms of numbers of missionaries in Angola, the Brethren have
been the largest in the Protestant field. Under the leadership of
Frederick Stanley Arnot — whose goal was to carry the gospel to
Central Africa in the footsteps of Livingstone — the Brethren came to
Angola in 1890. Within a f e w years they had set up missions in most
of Bié. Later they pushed west and northwest into the Lunda terri-
tory toward the Katanga and Rhodesian frontier. Instead of con-
structing a large central mission like the ones at Dondi or Quessua, the
Brethren preferred to maintain a number of smaller stations and
schools in remote parts of the interior. James Johnston, who visited
several of their missions shortly after the Brethren entered Angola,
126 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

was not impressed with their techniques. He said the natives scorned
them, that they held services only for themselves, and spent the rest
of the time in their gardens or hunting. 13 The Brethren gradually
lost their resemblance to Bishop Taylor's self-supporting missions of
which Johnston was also critical. B y 1932 they had fourteen central
stations and about one thousand outstations or posts regularly visited.
Whether this type of missionary work or the central plant sur-
rounded by lesser stations is the more effective way of reaching the
African has been the subject of much controversy. Defenders of the
small-mission program say that it is the only satisfactory way of
making direct contact with the people. On the other hand, only in
the large mission can there be a concentration of medical and edu-
cational facilities. One of the casualties of twentieth-century spe-
cialization seems to be the old-time bush missionary who went forth
to evangelize armed only with the Gospel and a rifle, and it may be
that the fate of the small mission will be that of these rugged indi-
vidualists.
T h e other Protestant missions in Angola have been relatively small,
with the exception of the South Africa General Mission which ex-
tended its work to Angola in 1914. Most of its efforts have been in
the large isolated corner of the province bordered by Northern
Rhodesia and South-West Africa. The Mission Philafricaine was an
independent mission founded by Heli Chatelain, a Swiss scholar and
linguist of international fame, in 1897. Chatelain had worked with
Bishop William Taylor and tried to keep the ideal of self-supporting
missions, a task in which he was not spectacularly successful. After
his death the three stations of the mission were maintained by artisan
missionaries. In northern coastal Angola and the Cabinda enclave, the
Angola Evangelical League (1897) and the Christian and Missionary
Alliance ( 1 9 1 0 ) , both nondenominational, have prevailed in the face
of Portuguese hostility and limited funds. The small North Angola
Mission, also nondenominational, has built a model little Christian
community near Uige to the admiration of Portuguese and Africans.
Founded in 1925 by a Swiss and an Englishman, by 1932 it had built
four outchurches. The Seventh Day Adventists have also been active
in Angola, principally in the Benguela plateau. Their well-known
reserve has kept them out of the informal Protestant missionary al-
liance, a co-ordinating council created to deal with the Portuguese
government, and they are distrusted by the colonial government.
T h e Protestant missions have served the general welfare of the
colony. A n y hospital or school is a welcome addition in under-
developed Angola; when these are first-rate institutions, as several
 THE MISSIONARY EFFORT 127
of the mission establishments are, they perform inestimable services
to the African community. B y European or American standards the
proportion of hospitals and dispensaries, for example, to the needs of
the population of the province js discouragingly small, but when one
realizes that in the 1920's and 1930's over half of all such medical
services available to the African were run by missionaries, and of this
total more than 30 per cent by Protestant missions, one begins to
understand the nature of their contribution to at least a small part
of the indigenous peoples. The same percentages will hold true of
schools, although a higher proportion of schools are in Catholic hands,
the Portuguese being generally more apt to subsidize the salvation of
the soul than of the body. In these two fields Protestant labors have
wrought impressive results.14
On the troublesome issue of contract labor the Protestant mis-
sionaries have stood in not always silent rebuke to the extreme prac-
tices of the colonial administration, becoming involved more than
once with angry Portuguese authorities who felt their hospitality
outraged by this improper interest in the African's welfare. It is
possible that the presence of the Protestant missions has helped soften
to a slight degree these abuses. Certainly their attitude toward the
problem has been one of the reasons w h y the official reception of
their work has been politely reserved. T h e main reason is of course
the historic animosity of the Portuguese Catholic Church toward
those of any other persuasion, an attitude that has strengthened during
the Salazar regime. This sentiment has made impossible any sub-
stantial co-operation between the two churches in Angola.

Protestant mission work in Moçambique has not been as successful

as in Angola. The inaccessibility of the highland regions, the priority
of Catholic missions along the Zambezi, the hostility of Portuguese
administrators in the 1880's and 1890's to any suggestion of English
expansion, and the Moslem penetration in the north of the colony
have limited Protestant efforts to the area between Delagoa Bay and
the mouth of the Zambezi.
The American Board in 1879 decided to extend its Zulu mission
into the Gaza district, but after many difficulties the project was
abandoned in 1889 and the Board's representative, Mr. Ε . H. Richards,
was transferred to the Methodist Episcopal mission which had just
been established at Inhambane. The Methodist mission has been in
existence since 1889-1890 and gradually pushed into the near interior
from Inhambane. In 1885 the Free Methodists had begun working in
128 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

the same town, but a temporary suspension of their program and a

serious clash with the local government have curtailed any vigorous
expansion. The Wesleyan Missionary Society operated in the Delagoa
Bay area in the i88o's and 1890's under native African auspices; in
the early 1900's a modest program directed by white missionaries
was begun. The Anglican Church established several small stations
in the vicinity of Lourenço Marques; on Likoma Island near the
Portuguese shore of Lake Nyasa the Universities' Mission maintained
an outstation which in 1 9 1 1 was instrumental in precipitating a bitter
dispute between England and Portugal. 15
The most important Protestant group in Moçambique has been
the Swiss Mission which came there in 1881. Its work has been mostly
confined to the Lourenço Marques district. Members of the Swiss
Mission have taken a keen anthropological interest in African culture;
Henri Junod's distinguished studies on Moçambique tribes are the
work of one of the Swiss Mission's foremost leaders. The Mission also
has the distinction of being the Protestant group least admired by
Portuguese officials in Moçambique. Outspokenly critical of Portu-
guese native policy, they have often brought down on their heads
the charge that they stir up rebellious tendencies in the Africans.
Mousinho de Albuquerque held them at least indirectly responsible
for the revolts of 1894; for Mousinho all Protestants were to be dis-
trusted because they confused the African by standing for something
different, and their theories of equality and their support of black
against white made them dangerous and untrustworthy. 1 ® A similar
view was held for a long time by the Portuguese administration of the
British-capitalized Moçambique Company which kept Protestant mis-
sionaries from most of its territory. Until recent years, however, the
Moçambique government has treated Protestant missions in the
province in much the same manner as they have been received in
Angola — with discreet tolerance broken by sporadic unpleasant in-
cidents.
As in Angola much of the limited medical and educational work
carried on in Moçambique during the first third of the century was by
Protestants. From 1919 to 1930, when the government forced them
to close it, the Swiss Mission ran in Lourenço Marques one of the
colony's two secondary schools. A t Kambini the Methodist Episcopal
board established a training school for African men; with its model
village and agricultural school, the center has been hailed by Portu-
guese administrators as the best school of its kind in the province. T h e
same mission has also maintained several schools for girls. The Free
Methodists set up two boarding schools and several primary schools
 THE MISSIONARY EFFORT 129
in the bush. Some of the major medical services have also been the
work of Protestant missions. T h e Lembombo Mission has staffed a
hospital on the coast south of Beira, and the Methodist Episcopal mis-
sion at Inhambane, a hospital with a nurse's training center. T h e Swiss
Mission at Lourenço Marques and near Vila de Joäo Belo have main-
tained two hospitals and several dispensaries. Other missions have also
established small hospitals and dispensaries. As with schools, the num-
ber of medical centers has been pathetically inadequate, but even the
slightest help has been a contribution to the woefully neglected hinter-
land of Portuguese East Africa.

T h e success of either Protestant or Catholic missionaries in creat-

ing an indigenous church in Angola and Moçambique is, as Dr. Childs
observes, still debatable. 17 Statistics of baptism or membership do not
give a truly adequate picture. One need do no more than compare the
impressive figures sent to Rome by the Capuchins in the middle of the
seventeenth century with descriptions of the religious state of the
Congo one and two hundred years later. T h e greatest of all missionary
teachers, the Jesuits, left only a trace of their influence on the African
in Angola, the ability of a few to read and speak a fragmentary Portu-
guese. Of Dominican labors on the Zambezi nothing was left.
It is obvious that the work of the Christian missionary can no
longer accomplish much either in a vacuum or proceeding antagonisti-
cally to the political and economic course of an area. In this respect
the traditional Portuguese concept of a militant church and state has
real significance, although like so many other colonial philosophies of
Portugal its practice has been seen to differ from the theory. If, as has
been suggested, a sense of personal insecurity drives the African
deeper into his own culture, to a renewed belief in witchcraft, the
need for a closer co-ordination of national and religious policies is
evident. T h e Portuguese are presently determined to stay in Angola
and Moçambique. While it is not yet clear that the African is deter-
mined that they shall not, it is also clear that the African has not been
completely convinced of the desirability of a European culture. In
the task of persuasion the missionary has a vital role in Portuguese
Africa, but for his work to be efficient the Portuguese must resolve
the dilemma of the past. If the African is to be drawn into a Christian
community he must be treated with Christian dignity and under-
standing.
 VI

THE S L A V E T R A D E , S L A V E R Y , A N D
C O N T R A C T LABOR

ISJo questions have aroused greater controversy in the history of

Portuguese Africa than those of slavery and contract labor, and on no
question have the Portuguese been more sensitive. The last century
and a half has been frequently marked by domestic and international
polemics. With England in particular Portugal has had a lingering
dispute over these problems. Nor is it by any means certain that the
arguments have run their course, for the Portuguese colonial admin-
istration is obviously not yet disposed to abjure its repressive exploita-
tion of African labor on which the present expansion of the economies
of Angola and Moçambique is largely based.1
To meet the blunt accusations of slaving and improper labor prac-
tices Portugal has been forced in the past one hundred and twenty-
five years to respond with the creation of an elaborate legislation,
some of it genuine, as, for example, Sá da Bandeira's antislavery de-
crees, and other parts of it synthetic. If this legislation has sometimes
failed to convince most foreign critics, it has probably convinced a
majority of the Portuguese, even some of those who have been as
critical as foreigners of the African labor situation in the overseas
provinces, for many Portuguese seem to have an almost mystical faith
in the solution of problems by reports and complicated legislation.
Nor have Portugal's traditional policies on the use of African labor
always been lacking for support from outside Portuguese territory,
and it is not unusual to hear the cliché in many parts of Africa, "Only
the Portuguese know how to treat the native." 2
 S L A V E TRADE, S L A V E R Y , AND CONTRACT LABOR I3 I

In recent years the Portuguese government has tried to soften the

unpleasant implications of contract labor by emphasizing such terms
as "the dignity of labor," "spiritual assimilation," "cultural evolu-
tion," and "black Portuguese citizens" when speaking of its native
policy, but the reality is pretty much the same today as it has been
for four hundred years: the indiscriminate use of the African for
Portuguese profit.3 Had this vision of the African shown any marked
change in these centuries, beyond the final abolition of slavery and the
creation of an ambiguous legal language to define the African's status
vis-à-vis the colonial administration, a discussion of slavery and con-
tract labor would be only a historical exercise; but there has been no
such change, and a study of this aspect of Angola and Moçambique
should contribute to an understanding of present tendencies. Whether
the African has been an export commodity, a domestic slave, a liberto,
contratado, or voluntario, his fundamental relationship with the Portu-
guese has remained the same — that of a servant. When the African
is supposed to emerge from his centuries-old apprenticeship and tute-
lage into the role of responsible citizen of Greater Portugal cannot be
known (historically, a few Portuguese Africans have always been able
to achieve a position of economic and social responsibility in the
clergy, commerce, and lesser administration, thus giving some validity
to Portuguese assertions of racial equality; and in recent years the
emergence of the assimilado, especially in the cities and larger towns,
has shown a slightly encouraging progress), but the idea of an Angola
or Moçambique for the African seems to have about as much signifi-
cance in Portugal's colonial plans as the notion of a United States for
the Indian has in American deliberations.
In none of her native policies has Portugal stood alone among the
colonial powers. In comparison with the atrocities in the Belgian
Congo at the turn of the century and with German repressions in East
and South-West Africa, her conduct has been one of tolerance; nor
would many Portuguese seriously defend the drastic subjugation of
the non-European people in the Union of South Africa, which is es-
sentially alien to the Lusitanian spirit of tolerance for the Asian and
African. Portugal's record as a slaving nation is no worse — and no
better — than that of other European and American countries, and her
exploitation of the African has never been because he was an African,
but because he was exploitable. Hence Portugal feels justified in her
resentment against attacks on her policies from nations who have come
all too recently to be moved by humanitarian ideals. In an age of
atomic destruction, Buchenwald, segregation, slave labor camps, it is
difficult for a foreign critic to maintain an absolute moral position on
132 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

Portuguese action in Africa. Nevertheless, in many parts of Africa

there is today apparent a sincere recognition of past offense and a de-
sire, undoubtedly prompted by African nationalism, to contribute to
the future welfare of the African, even at the cost of colonial sover-
eignty. It has been Portugal's slowness to accept this trend and her re-
luctance to conform with the principles she professes which have
brought down upon her the censure of others.

Nowhere has Portugal been on surer ground in her own defense

than on the question of the slave trade. The responsibility for the
horrors and outrages committed in the course of the trade was shared
by many European countries, and the only distinction that may be
legitimately attributed to Portugal is that she was one of the first
nations of modern Europe to engage in the African commerce and
one of the last to give it up. T o her credit let it be said that the trade
had almost as many opponents, ineffective though they were, among
Portuguese subjects as it did elsewhere. That the major slave emporia
were for a long time in Portuguese hands should not hide the fact that
her early monopoly was ambitiously contested and in some areas
broken by her more powerful European neighbors.
From the 1440's the Portuguese were engaged in the West African
slave trade, first at Arguim (Cap Blanc) and by 1480 in the Gulf of
Guinea. On the whole extent of coast from Arguim to the Congo,
Portugal sought two products: gold and slaves. T o promote and con-
trol the commerce in these two products the Portuguese in the second
half of the fifteenth century established themselves in several well-
chosen islands and mainland forts. More so than in Angola and
Moçambique, Portugal's policy in upper and lower Guinea was com-
mercial. The distances were too great, the climate too deadly, and the
African too unfriendly for Portugal to do more than make a gesture
of subjugating and evangelizing the African tribes of the mainland.
Only in the vicinity of their factory-fortresses were the Portuguese
constrained to make their presence felt through arms or alliance.
Otherwise, they were content to let the flow of trade come from the
interior to their coastal outposts. Until other nations of Europe were
attracted to West Africa in the middle third of the sixteenth century,
this commercially sensible and moderate system of trade functioned
admirably. Even after the preponderance of influence in West Africa
north of the Congo had swung to the Dutch and English, the Portu-
guese, though their trade was proportionately reduced, managed to
maintain themselves in several parts of the coast. The Cape Verdes,
 S L A V E TRADE, S L A V E R Y , AND C O N T R A C T LABOR I 33

Portuguese Guinea, and the islands Sâo Tomé and Principe are the
twentieth-century remnants of the sixteenth-century enterprise.
T h e four main points the Portuguese occupied north of the
equator were Arguim, Santiago (the Cape Verdes), Sâo Jorge da
Mina, and Sâo Tomé. A t one time or another all were intimately as-
sociated with the slave trade. The most important bases were unques-
tionably Mina, because of its gold, and Sâo Tomé, for slaves and sugar.
The island of Arguim, however, was the first post of consequence to
be established. Shortly after its discovery in 1443, a factory was put up
in hopes of tapping the wealth of western Sudan. Arguim soon became
a center of Moslem-Portuguese dealings in a variety of mundane and
exotic products. Gold was the primary desire of the Portuguese, who
had hopes of diverting into their own hands part of the vaguely de-
fined gold trade of Timbuktu. But they were forced to settle for
slaves, a commodity which made Arguim wealthy for almost a cen-
tury. In its heyday the island was reputed to have sent one thousand
slaves a year to Portugal and was the leading Portuguese slave port of
the fifteenth century. The rise of the transatlantic trade and the dif-
ficulty of holding the island against pirate attacks caused Portugal in
the reign of Joäo III to concentrate her interests further down the
coast.
T o a limited degree Portugal was obliged to share the West
African trade with Spain in the last half of the fifteenth century. Al-
though the extent of Spanish voyages has not yet been fully clarified,
it is certain that Spain took a definite interest in West Africa until the
discovery of America and the Treaty of Tordesillas in 1494 insured
Portuguese priority. Spanish privateers continued to make their way
to the Guinea coast in the sixteenth century, and Spain's associations
with West Africa went on for centuries, for here was the major
source of N e w World labor. Through the sixteenth century, slave
contractors of assorted nationalities supplied the Spanish colonies
with workers from the coast of Africa. By the middle of the six-
teenth century more than four thousand slaves were shipped annu-
ally to fill the Spanish contracts; possibly another two thousand were
shipped to America clandestinely aboard English, French, Spanish,
and Portuguese contraband-runners.
In the supply lines to the Spanish colonies Lisbon for a while held
special importance as the largest entrepôt of the trade. Some of the
Africans remained in Portugal as domestic servants in Lisbon and
Evora and as agricultural workers in the Ribatejo and Algarve.
Slavery was by no means a novelty in Portugal. Extensively practiced
by the Moors in the Peninsula and adopted by the Christians, the in-
1 PORTUGUESE AFRICA
34
stitution had received new impetus as a result of the North African
campaigns in the first half of the fifteenth century. Moorish prisoners
and, subsequently, Moorish and "Ethiopian" slaves purchased in Mo-
rocco were a common sight in courtly circles. These slaves, however,
were disappearing when West African captives began to reach the
country in considerable numbers. Their fairly sudden appearance and
their concentration in Lisbon and southern Portugal led to some
fanciful observations on the Negro population of Portugal in the early
sixteenth century, and even two hundred and fifty years later travelers
to Iberia commented with amazement on the number of black faces
seen in Lisbon. Absurd claims that the Alentejo and the Algarve were
almost entirely peopled by Negroes, that slaves outnumbered the
white population of Lisbon, and that the royal family was mostly
Negroid gained credence.4 Neither the country nor the capital was
overrun with Negro slaves; a census of 1554 fixed the number in Lis-
bon at about 10 per cent of the population, and there were fewer in
the countryside. Evidence of the African's presence occasionally ap-
pears in the courtly and popular literature of the day,5 and there are
still African motifs in Portuguese folklore.6
By the middle of the eighteenth century, Negro slavery in Portu-
gal was almost an anachronism, appearances to the contrary. The in-
stitution was never a fundamental aspect of Portuguese society. Sub-
stantial though it may have been, it was but a shadow of imperial
slavery. When Gilberto Freyre speaks of a Portuguese slave con-
sciousness (allegedly an extension of the Moorish system of domestic
slavery) in Brazil, he is presenting a thesis difficult to substantiate in
fact. There was more in common between slavery as practiced in
Brazil, Angola, and Moçambique than there was between slavery in
any one, or all, of these colonies and the metropolis. The rest of
Freyre's argument that the Portuguese-Moorish brand of domestic
servitude was less cruel than the Anglo-French-Spanish variety is
equally problematical.7 For the African working in the Brazilian
sugar mill, at least, "life was hell on earth," 8 an observation equally
valid regarding certain slavery customs in the African provinces.
The second center of Portuguese slaving activity in West Africa
was Santiago — in the Cape Verde group — and the mainland op-
posite. The island itself, settled by Portuguese, Castilians, and Gen-
oese, was the entrepôt for the upper Guinea trade. T o encourage the
settlement of Santiago the crown granted its inhabitants extraordi-
nary concessions in the 1460's to trade the coast. As in the Congo,
the Europeans, in the absence of any consistent royal authority and
intercourse with the home country, made up an undisciplined com-
 SLAVE TRADE, SLAVERY, AND CONTRACT LABOR 135

munity of adventurers and fugitives. Some made their w a y to the

mainland, Senegal, Gambia, and Sierra Leone, where as lords of the
land and traders they kept the flow of slaves to Santiago and coastal
factories at a lively level. Since they had f e w compunctions about
operating in areas restricted to the crown monopoly or about selling
to unlicensed ships, their presence became a painful thorn to the gov-
ernment, which issued ineffectual decrees to curtail their activities.
Some of the traders were authorized representatives of slave com-
panies. T h e Guinea coast was let for a yearly rental by the crown to
Portuguese, Spanish, or Italian contractors. Exclusive rights for four
to five years in the five coastal divisions (Arguim, Senegal, Gambia,
the Rivers of Guinea, and Sierra Leone) were put up at public auction
in Lisbon. The contract for Gambia was generally the most profitable
and brought the highest fee at auction. A t times several districts
would be rented to a single contractor or company, and after 1521
one such group held a monopoly for all of upper Guinea. Each con-
tractor employed factors, some of them permanent residents of the
area, to conduct their affairs. Although upper Guinea superseded
Arguim as the chief supplier of African labor, in the mid-sixteenth
century its importance began to dwindle when English and French
intruders appeared in the Gambia area.
Sâo Jorge da Mina was the third point of Portuguese influence —
and the most imposing with its great castle and fortified site of Sâo
Jorge poised magnificently over the sea. Here slavery was a secondary
consideration until the Dutch capture of the city in 1637. Portugal
was concerned with gold, which in the first fifty years of Sâo Jorge's
occupation (from 1482) arrived in encouraging quantities from the
regions of Ashanti. With the Africans of the area the Portuguese had
a tenuous relationship, bribing, intriguing, and, on occasion, fighting
to keep the surrounding tribes from pushing them into the sea. Sao
Jorge and the lesser mainland forts at Axim, Samma, and Accra made
Portugal supreme on the Gold Coast. From Benin, Sâo Tomé, and
even Arguim the Portuguese brought slaves to trade for Mina's gold.
T h e most constant source of Portuguese authority in lower
Guinea, and in fact in all West Africa, was Sâo Tomé. In the last
decade of the fifteenth century, the decision was made in Lisbon to
populate this steamy fertile island. In the next f e w years young Jews,
convicts, and exiles were sent there. T h e inhabitants were authorized
to trade in slaves with the mainland, principally in the kingdom of
Benin, although the commerce quickly spread southward and was
carried on from the Slave Coast to the Congo. F e w areas of the
Portuguese empire have ever shown such rapid, tropically luxuriant,
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

and decadent prosperity as Sâo Tomé. T h e island has also possessed

a puzzling vitality which has enabled it to withstand the vicissitudes
of centuries. Its economy rested on slaves. From the shores of Guinea,
the Congo, and Angola, black laborers poured into the island to culti-
vate the sugar plantations and operate the refineries. Simultaneously
Sâo Tomé became Portugal's chief base for the slave traffic to the
West Indies and, later, to Brazil. The contract for the island was the
fattest Lisbon had to offer, and duties were a notable contribution to
the royal treasury. Men like Fernâo de Melo, who held the captaincy
of the island until 1522 when its administration reverted to the crown,
and the island planters were vigorous defenders of their prerogatives,
which often put them into conflict with the Lisbon government. Slave
rebellions in the second half of the century, the lack of white popula-
tion, and the rise of Luanda brought a decline to the island's economy
for a hundred years, and not until the last part of the seventeenth cen-
tury did it reassert its position as one of the centers for the Guinea
trade. The island had the distinction also of contributing to the rise
of Brazil. With Madeira it helped to introduce the sugar economy
into Brazil, and with it a way of life based on the labors of the
African.®
T h e golden age of slaving on the Guinea coast extended roughly
from 1650 to 1800. In this period the Portuguese played a lesser role
in the systematic depopulation of the region. T h e devastation wrought
under the sixteenth-century Portuguese monopoly must have been
slight compared with the combined efforts of English, Dutch, and
French traders. Reliable statistics for the earlier period do not exist,
but five hundred thousand slaves exported would seem to be a gen-
erous estimate for the whole coast from Arguim to Benin until 1600
— a modest figure against a calculated five to eight million for the
next two centuries.
B y 1600 Portugal's monopoly had already begun to fragment un-
der the growing competition of European interlopers. T h e Dutch
West India Company was the principal adversary in the years 1 6 2 5 -
1650, and by 1642 the Gold Coast was in Dutch hands. In the i66o's
French and English companies engaged the Dutch in a triangular
struggle for the whole West African slave trade. Portugal managed to
hold isolated sections of the coast. In the Cape Verdes and Portuguese
Guinea she resisted pressures from north and south as the French
came to dominate the trade in Senegal and the English in much of
Gambia. Though Angola remained the chief source of supply, the
Portuguese were not finished on the Guinea coast and by 1700 had
recovered sufficiently to consider forming a Lisbon company to take
 SLAVE TRADE, SLAVERY, AND CONTRACT LABOR I 37

over the Spanish contract for the N e w W o r l d . But the negotiations

fell through and the French gained the contract, yielding it to the
English after the Peace of Utrecht. In 1677 a Portuguese slave port
was established on the coast of Dahomey to expedite shipments to Sâo
T o m é and Principe and later to fill the vessels arriving directly from
Brazil in the eighteenth century.
B y 1700 Brazil demanded more than ten thousand slaves a year, a
number that could not always be met b y Angola, which was furnish-
ing Africans for other parts of Latin America as well. T h e need for
workers in the newly discovered gold and diamond mines was an addi-
tional factor in bringing a large part of Brazil's trade back to the
Guinea coast. Hoping to acquire slaves accustomed to mining work,
Brazilian financiers dealt with Dutch contractors on the Gold Coast.
Subsequently, their demands contributed to the devastation of Da-
homey. T h e Companhia de Cacheu e Cabo Verde was founded in
1690 for exploiting the upper Guinea coast. T h e company had only
limited success in the face of efficient competition from the English
and French, and in the middle of the eighteenth century the powerful
Grao-Pará and Maranhäo Company, in which Pombal held interest,
financed the rebuilding of Bissau into an important slave center. Dur-
ing certain periods of the eighteenth century Guinea surpassed Angola
in the number of slaves sent to Brazil. Slave ships from Brazil bought
indiscriminately along the coast from English, French, Dutch, or
Portuguese factories. B y 1790, however, the English, exporting 38,000
slaves annually to the N e w W o r l d from fourteen posts, and the
Dutch, exporting some 26,000 slaves from fifteen posts, were the prin-
cipal suppliers. Portuguese traders hung on at only four factories,
from which they yearly dispatched some 10,000 Negroes.

T h e rise of the Congo-Angola trade, though primarily a natural

consequence of expansion below the equator, was stimulated b y sev-
eral other conditions in the early sixteenth century. First, there were
the ambitious intentions of Sâo T o m é to tap a rich new area of supply.
Second, there was the tempting relationship with the Manicongo,
whose obvious desire to please his European friends led him to open
the Pandora's box of the slave trade. Third, the Guinea trade, subject
as it was to the vexations of Arab dealers of upper Guinea and the in-
trusions of foreign ships, could not produce a sufficient number of
slaves.
It is impossible to overestimate the importance of the trade in the
Congo during the first half of the sixteenth century. Everyone en-
i38 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

gaged in it: merchants, priests, ships' officers and men, the king's of-
ficials. T h e importance achieved by the Congo commerce was recog-
nized in Manuel's decree of 1 5 1 9 forbidding any save ships of the
crown to load Congo products at Pinda. In vain Afonso complained
that the Portuguese who scattered through his realm like locusts were
depopulating his lands, collecting and selling his subjects as well as
legitimate peg as. His efforts to regulate the excesses were, as we have
seen, ineffective. T h e example of the Congo, which was to set the
tone for Angola, shows that wherever slaving was allowed to become
the dominant interest, policies of diplomatic alliance produced the
same conditions as did policies of military occupation. B y 1600 the
Congo kingdom was a shambles; the trade through the mouth of the
river had probably averaged over five thousand slaves a year through-
out the century. T h e Congo trade went on for another two hundred
years; during much of the time the only European contact with the
interior was through the slave trader and his half-caste and African
agents.
For the first seventy-five years of the sixteenth century, the island
of Sâo Tomé was a predominant influence in the affairs of the Congo
and Angola. Sâo Tomé was the chief consumer and distributor for
most of the slaves brought from below the equator. Ships from the is-
land, frequently unable to acquire sufficient slaves from the lands of
the Manicongo, traded sporadically at points near the present ports of
Ambriz and Luanda and at the mouth of the Cuanza. B y 1550 these
ships may have been carrying up to three thousand slaves a year to
Sâo Tomé. But with only a f e w Portuguese traders and their assist-
ants to organize the trade in the backcountry, the commerce was often
uncertain and inadequate. Without some sort of Portuguese occupa-
tion Angola was not a wholly satisfactory source of slaves.
With the arrival of Paulo Dias de Nováis in 1575, Angola became
the Black Mother. From Luanda in the twelve years from 1575 to
1587 the yearly average of slaves exported was about 2,500; with the
letting of the contract to Pedro Sevilha and Antonio Mendes Lamego,
the yearly average tripled in the next four years. These figures are
for slave cargo from Luanda alone and do not include the covert
commerce from other ports. The usual estimate for the century 1580-
1680 is a million slaves from Angola with perhaps another 500,000
from the Congo. 10 Of the annual total, about 8,500 went to the
Brazilian ports of Bahia, Rio de Janeiro, and Pernambuco (Bahia was
the largest port of entry in South America), some 5,000 to the Carib-
bean area, and about 1,500 to the Río de la Plata region. In the early
years of the seventeenth century Brazil's sugar economy had become
 SLAVE TRADE, SLAVERY, AND C O N T R A C T LABOR I 39

absolutely dependent on Angolan labor. A remark of the day was,

"Without sugar there is no Brazil and without Angola there is no
sugar." T h e price for the peças de Indias — one of the exotic com-
mercial labels for the slaves — was high and the profits great. Angola
and the Congo became and remained the largest concentrated area
of slave supply in West Africa.
Luanda from the days of its first contract was the most important
port south of the equator, supplanting the ports at the mouth of the
Congo, although the Congo territory, let on separate contract, had a
more international clientele, attracting ships of Dutch, English,
French, and Spanish flags. Even before the silver and copper mines of
Angola proved imaginary or unworkable, the slave was the only real
article of commerce in the colony. The principal dealer was usually
the governor, whose interest in the trade was not necessarily his own
capital, but the power and facilities of his office plus whatever privi-
leges were contained in his regimentó. Then there was the contractor,
working for himself or, more frequently, for a corporation of in-
vestors who had purchased the licenses permitting them to export an
appointed number of Negroes in a certain period of time. Through
the offices of the governor or his staff the terms of the contract were
often discreetly changed during the actual operation to allow more
slaves, on whom no taxes were paid, to be exported. Working for the
contractor or for themselves were local merchants living in Luanda,
or sometimes in the interior, whose pombeiros scoured the country
bringing in captives from the most remote sections of the colony. On
the margin of this legal activity adventurers and residents promoted
the clandestine trade.
Slaves were acquired in various manners. T h e y were obtained at
fortresses in the interior where they were brought by African chiefs
or their agents to be traded for manufactured goods. In Angola this
method was less successful than in the more commercially advanced
Guinea coast. A surer way was for the merchant to send his pom-
beiros, or African traders, into the interior. Accompanied by a num-
ber of domestic slaves bearing the merchandise to be traded (cloth,
wine, metal goods), the pombeiros ranged through the countryside for
more than a year bartering with local chiefs. T h e slaves acquired were
then marched to Luanda. It was not uncommon for the pombeiros
(or for free-lancing Portuguese traders) to stir up a local war with
the hopes of being able to buy the prisoners. In the many so-called
wars of conquest the Portuguese administration waged against the
great chiefs or petty sobas in the interior a substantial number of
captives were taken, many of whom were sold to slave contractors
140 P O R T U G U E S E AFRICA

and dispatched to America. Such procedures were not above criticism

by the humanitarians of the age.
Still another source was the well-populated lands granted by the
governor to deserving soldiers and clerics. T h e taxes demanded of the
chief could be conveniently paid in slaves; many of these sobadas
were in effect slave farms. Curiously, the word resgate (hostage or
ransom) and resgatear (to ransom or liberate) were the terms used
to describe the process of acquisition, the original notion being that
the African was received in hostage to prevent his slaughter by his
fellow Africans and to liberate him from his pagan state through the
teachings of Christianity. The original significance of the terms, going
back to medieval Portuguese-Moorish relations, had no reality in the
African trade, and may have been unconsciously used as a euphemism
to hide the trade's unsavory character.
In Luanda the slaves were held in barracoons, large warehouses
or sometimes open corrals. Since many slaves came from the deep
interior, they arrived on the coast emaciated and exhausted. So that
they could withstand the incredible rigors of the transatlantic voyage,
here the slaves were fattened and attended. Their services were used,
should their departure be delayed, in municipal and agricultural tasks.
Before they embarked into the slave ships they were baptized whole-
sale. English polemicists have perpetuated the story that on the
wharves at Luanda stood a great marble chair, the Bishop's Chair,
where the Angolan prelate officiated at embarkation baptism cere-
monies. T h e scene is evocative — and partly true — but usually the
slaves were baptized prior to embarkation, and it is even possible that
captives leaving lesser ports and neglected estuaries along the coast
were not bothered at all with last-minute ceremonies.
N o single step in the slaving process, not even the dreadful Arab
slave-gang marches through East Africa in the nineteenth century,
was more terrible than the voyage to the N e w World. The sickening
conditions under which the Negro was transported, the brutal un-
concern of the officers and crew of the slaver were the most dramatic
examples of slaving horrors cited by European antislavery factions
in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Portuguese historians
have made much of remarks by several Dutch observers of the
seventeenth century to the effect that the Portuguese were more
efficient and humane transporters of live cargo than other nations.
Contemporary Portuguese accounts, however, revealed no such dis-
tinction.
It is also known that in Angola where they carry the prisoners to the
ships, those on land weep copiously, horrified and fearful of the violence
 S L A V E TRADE, S L A V E R Y , AND C O N T R A C T LABOR I4I

that is done them, seeing that in addition to taking them against their will,
they treat them very inhumanely on the ships, whence a great number die
suffocated by their own stench and from other bad treatment. There was
one night in which thirty died on one ship in port because they would not
open the hatch for fear they would escape, no matter how loudly those
below shouted for them to open because they were dying; the only re-
sponse they received was to be called dogs and similar names. And in an-
other ship carrying five hundred from Cape Verde to New Spain after
only one night at sea 120 were dead, suffocated in the hold because those
carrying them were fearful of an uprising.11

Stories richer in detail may be found in countless reports and tracts

on the trade. The Portuguese ships were generally smaller than the
Dutch ships and carried proportionately more slaves in the narrow
lower decks. T o Brazil the Middle Passage was comparatively swift,
from five to eight weeks. But much of the cargo never got to Brazil,
or died shortly after being unloaded. Through disease, suicide, suf-
focation, 20 to 30 per cent of the slaves embarking in Angola perished.
Whether, as critics of the practice argued, conditions grew worse
from the seventeenth to the early nineteenth century or popular re-
actions became more imaginative and vehement is a needlessly tortured
point. A t no time did the voyages of the tumbeiros have anything to
recommend them.
In Angola and Moçambique until 1845, local slavery was sub-
ordinate to the export trade. T h e reasons have already been suggested
in the lack of economic life in either colony to support resident
slavery on a grand scale. The African was more profitable sold than
kept. Slaves, however, were retained. There were the Jesuit work
camps in Angola and the prazos in Moçambique, and many colonists
had a corps of slaves as domestic servants or making up a small private
army. The Angolan slave dealer and the Moçambique prazero each
had a company of African soldiers, some free and some not, for his
business and defense. In both colonies slaves were employed in clear-
ing the land around the towns and fortresses. T h e y were farm laborers
on the manioc plantations and the scattered farms of the Portuguese.
In Angola particularly the slave formed part of an African crafts-
man class, since f e w Portuguese in the colonies engaged in such tasks.
Africans trained by the Jesuits in carpentry or at the forge were in
constant demand. Slavery in both colonies was perhaps a more in-
dolent affair than in Brazil, closer to African tribal slavery than to
the servitude of American plantation life. But it was not without its
brutalities and excesses; on the estates and prazos cruel masters were
not unknown, and those who kept a seraglio of African women were
I42 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

even more common. Generally, however, the abuses of slavery in the

African colonies were a nineteenth-century phenomenon.
In the last one hundred and fifty years of the legal slave trade
(1680-1836) an estimated more than two million slaves were shipped
from Luanda and Benguela. The illicit trade and the unknown quan-
tity of Negroes sent from the Congo ports would increase this figure
by at least another million. In its last desperate convulsion, Angola
sent perhaps a quarter of a million slaves to Brazil in the ten years
before the trade's suppression. The ports of the Congo had a new burst
of importance in the last quarter of the eighteenth century as native
chiefs found foreign traders who paid them more than the Portuguese
from Luanda or Benguela, but after the termination of the English
trade and the Treaty of 1815, the Angolan ports, with annual ship-
ments of 18,000 to 20,000 slaves, reasserted their leading position. By
1800 it was only the initiative of the pombeiros which kept the cara-
vans descending from upcountry to Luanda and Benguela. By then
the Portuguese in the towns and fortresses had sunk into a satisfied
inertia, playing out the final minutes of the game, indifferent to every-
thing save their prerogatives and the profits of the trade.

The attitude of England toward Portugal in the nineteenth

century was frequently characterized by pious cant and on occasions
by hypocrisy; nowhere is this more evident than in the slaving ques-
tions arising in the first half of the century. Having come upon virtue
late in life, England felt constrained to rebuke Portugal for her in-
humanity and her reluctance to follow in the paths of righteousness
taken by her European neighbors in the early nineteenth century.
In her defense Portugal has often done herself a disservice by failing
to emphasize the stern attitude taken by some of her citizens against
the institution and by stressing instead the collective guilt of European
and American nations and advancing arguments of canonical justifica-
tion. The example of Sá da Bandeira, whose antislavery pronounce-
ments sprang far more from nobility of character than from British
pressure, was not unique. In the tradition of Las Casas and the Spanish
Jesuit Alonso de Sandoval, isolated Portuguese clerics spoke out, in
vain, against the sophistry of defending the Amerindian and closing
one's eyes to African slavery. Several Angolan slave merchants
realistically criticized the abuses of the trade.12 Royal regimentos
repeatedly stressed to no avail the necessity of treating the Negro
with Christian kindness. In the middle and late 1700's tracts like the
Brazilian Ribeiro de Rocha's Etíope resgatado, instruido, libertado
 S L A V E TRADE, S L A V E R Y , AND CONTRACT LABOR 143

(1758) took their place in a growing antislavery literature in Europe.

Governor Sousa Coutinho sought during his Angolan governorship
to mitigate the atrocities committed against the African. In a series
of portarías he condemned and, in some cases, corrected temporarily
the arbitrary conduct of men in the slave business. Noting that chiefs
were robbed of their people by captains in the interior, that the
natives were forced to work, often at great distances from their vil-
lages, that free men were enslaved, he threatened dire punishment to
all those who perpetuated these cruelties. He ordered the captains
to stop slaving and protect the African from the greedy attentions
of clerics, degradados, and pombeiros. Although he did not condemn
slavery, he set his face against the wholesale exploitation of the colony.
Sousa Coutinho's fulminations, it should be noted, were not predom-
inantly humanitarian. In his vision for a healthy progressive colony,
the slave trade was sorely out of joint. He was an early advocate of
obligatory labor, a modified form of slavery, a proposition for which
he was to be much admired by Portuguese colonialists one hundred
and forty years later.13
The end of the slave trade came for most European nations with
almost abrupt suddenness. In 1790 it was still flourishing; by 1820,
most nations had abolished it; and by 1850 it was practically dead.
Denmark, once a prosperous slave-trading nation on the Gold Coast,
banned the traffic to her citizens in 1792. Antislavery sentiments in
England brought that country to take similar action in 1807. A
Napoleonic decree became French law in 1818. At the Congress of
Vienna the participating nations agreed to abolish the commerce as
soon as possible. In the same year the Dutch moved for suppression.
Spain in 1820 formally renounced the shipping of Africans to the
Caribbean, although the Spanish-Cuban trade did not completely
disappear until after i860.
Portugal and Brazil dragged their feet in joining the general con-
demnation. The dependence of the overseas economies on the com-
merce and the domestic difficulties arising from the Peninsular wars
made any decisive action impossible. England's close involvement,
however, with both the Lisbon and Rio de Janeiro governments gave
her a privileged position from which to bring influence on Portugal,
and on Brazil after that country's independence in 1822. In 1810
Portugal agreed to work toward a gradual abolition of the slave trade,
and as a first step she limited traffic to only those areas belonging to
her. When in the early 18 io's it was apparent that the flow of Negroes
from West Africa, instead of decreasing, had shown an increase, For-
eign Secretary Castlereagh urged greater co-operation on the Portu-
144 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

guese government. Stating that the British colonies had been amply
stocked with slaves before suppression while Brazil had not and fur-
thermore that some of her ships had been taken while in legal pursuit
of the trade, Portugal agreed only to enter into further negotiations.
In the treaty evolved in 1815 Portugal guaranteed that she would re-
strict her activities to south of the equator and to refuse to allow her
flag to be used except for trade with her own possessions (i.e., Brazil).
In return Portugal was granted indemnities and concessions totaling
about five million dollars.
In 1826, as a price for recognition of Brazil's independence, Eng-
land demanded of Brazil a similar treaty. Such a treaty Brazil accepted
and further agreed to make the slave trade piracy for her subjects
at the end of a three-year period. Although the piracy clause was not
strictly observed, in 1831 measures were taken to punish captured
slave traders and confiscate their vessels. This treaty and the inde-
pendence of Brazil in theory brought an end to the Portuguese slave
traffic. But it showed no signs of dying, and no Portuguese govern-
ment was strong enough until 1834 to cope with the problem. In 1835
Foreign Secretary Palmerston pointed out that Portugal had not ob-
served a single restriction in the 1815 treaty and that her subjects
continued to buy and transport slaves, although she no longer had a
legal market for them. " T h e ships of Portugal now prowl about the
ocean," he claimed, "pandering to the crimes of other nations; and
when her own ships are not sufficiently numerous for the purpose, the
flag is lent as a shield to protect the misdeeds of foreign pirates." 14
Portugal apologetically temporized, presenting as a counterclaim
that British naval vessels had captured her ships and that it was not
unknown for English slavers to fly the Portuguese flag.
Sá da Bandeira's decree of 1836 prohibiting the slave trade did not
have the immediate effect desired by him and the British government.
Angola and Brazilian slave dealers fiercely resisted it, and in the
absence of Portuguese authority to enforce the law, scores of slave
ships yearly left Ambriz, Cabinda, even Luanda, for Brazil. Negotia-
tions between England and Portugal continued, now with obvious
good intent on the part of the Portuguese government. But popular
humanitarian sentiment in England was impatient. Thomas Buxton,
one of the founders of the English Anti-Slavery Society, demanded
". . . a declaration that our cruisers will have orders to seize, after
a fixed and early day, every vessel under Portuguese colours engaged
in the slave trade, to bring the crew to trial as pirates, and to inflict
upon them the severest secondary punishment our law allows." 1 5
In the same tone the British government plainly told Portugal her
 S L A V E TRADE, S L A V E R Y , AND C O N T R A C T LABOR 145

flag would no longer be respected. Three years of raids along the

Angola coast and the seizure of Portuguese ships practically brought
an end to the West African traffic. In 1842 a final treaty was con-
cluded with Portugal wherein that country declared the trade to
be piracy. With England and the United States she participated in
mixed commissions, contributing a squadron of ships for the coastal
vigilance. B y 1850, after three hundred and fifty years, the Congo-
Angola slave trade was virtually finished.16

T o the exasperation of the English, Portuguese East Africa was

more dilatory than Angola in bringing the traffic to an end. In the
1880's there were still complaints about Moçambique residents traf-
ficking in Africans. In 1888 Lugard wrote with disgust, "These
Portuguese are inveterate slavers." 17 Much of the English literature
of the century is the natural exaggeration produced by the intense
humanitarianism of an uneasy conscience and by British missionary
and imperial politics in East Africa, but there was unquestionable
evidence as late as 1890 of practices in Moçambique which could
only be called slaving.
Although the Portuguese in Moçambique joined in the trans-
atlantic slave trade relatively late, "black ivory" was an established
commodity of Arab trade long before 1500, and the Portuguese, oc-
cupying only coastal sections and the Zambezi basin, never completely
kept Swahili slave merchants from their trade in the interior. From the
days of the Sofala captaincy, Portuguese ships carried Negroes from
Moçambique to India and even in small numbers to America and
Portugal. The main trade was eastward. Moçambique was too distant
and the Cape passage too hazardous to make East African slaves an
economical article in America. Only in 1640, with the relaxing of
certain restrictions on Indian commerce and the loss of Angola to the
Dutch, did the area become important, and ships from Rio de Janeiro
arrived in Moçambique ports. Once begun, the Atlantic trade never
entirely disappeared, even though there was no question of Mo-
çambique's competing with Angola and the Guinea coast. Portuguese
ships returning from India put in at Moçambique island and
Quelimane to fill their half-empty holds with human merchandise.
Neither in the seventeenth nor the eighteenth centuries was the trade
in Moçambique organized, save for the Arab caravans north of the
Zambezi, to exploit the population of the interior. Governor Lacerda
was pleased to note in the middle 1790's that slave dealers made no
money on their ventures, which, he observed, must have been punish-
146 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

ment from the hand of God for making slaves of men created in his
image.18
Although slaves formed the bulk of Moçambique's exports by
1800 — not a surprising situation given the defunct state of the
colony's economy — slavery as a domestic practice was more im-
portant here than in Angola. Many a prazero had an army of captive
Africans in addition to the usual large number of house and field
workers, for the more slaves a man owned the greater his prestige in
the Zambezi community. There was still in 1800 an academic dis-
tinction between slave and colono, the latter being the tribesman
dwelling on the prazo. Allegedly a free man, the colono paid a head
tax, was obliged to work without pay, and was subject to his land-
lord's caprice. In reality the difference between the two categories
was indistinct and in some areas, nonexistent. Both were cheap labor in
Moçambique. In the bustling period of the nineteenth century, many
prazeros did not examine too closely the legal condition of the
Africans they sold down the river. Sometimes at the coastal factories
the captives were classified as brutos (those from deep in the back-
country) and ladinos (domestic slaves who knew a little of European
ways), the second group being much the more valuable.19
The nineteenth-century boom in the Moçambique slave trade was
the usual result of supply and demand. Abolition decrees and restric-
tive treaties narrowed the source of labor down to Portuguese Africa
without a commensurate decrease in New World needs. The Congo
and Angola were not sufficient, and Moçambique, which had previ-
ously enjoyed its modest, though growing commerce, was called upon
for larger quotas. Correia Lopes estimates that from about 10,000
slaves exported each year (5,000 in national ships and 5,000 in those
of foreign registry) from 1780 to 1800, the figure rose to 15,000 a
year and soared for a decade to perhaps 25,000 annually before
spiraling downward after 1850. There was only a small decrease after
abolition. England, her attention concentrated on the West African
coast, neglected Portuguese East Africa until the 1840's. The com-
merce had a distinctive international flavor. For goods of British and
American manufacture, Portuguese, Arab, Banian, and half-caste
traders purchased African slaves in the interior for shipment on
Spanish, French, Brazilian, and American ships, mostly of American
construction, to various parts of the globe. Although most of the
population was involved in one way or another, a few merchants, the
contractors, and key officials garnered the profit, and the colony re-
mained backrupt. It is unreasonable, on the other hand, to propose,
as some writers have done,20 that the trade destroyed Moçambique's
 S L A V E TRADE, S L A V E R Y , AND C O N T R A C T LABOR I47

economy by diverting the healthy energies of the country into specula-

tive channels, for from about 1700 on, Moçambique had shown very
few signs of healthy energies or legitimate commerce.
The abolition decree of 1836 had a reception in Moçambique
similar to the one it received in Angola: consternation, resentment,
and grim determination not to comply. Governors and captains of
fortresses, ill paid and often corrupt, rightly figured that they had
nothing to lose by permitting the practice to go on and to participate
if necessary. Some officials made sincere efforts to destroy the traffic,
but the means at their disposal were pitifully inadequate, a handful of
soldiers and several ships to watch the lengthy coastline in order to
prevent the shadowy Arab dhows from slipping from their secret
estuaries. Underpaid officials and degradados were not the best civil
servants and soldiers to confront the problem. The majority of them
found it more convenient to close their eyes.
The strong intervention of England in the middle 1840's, carried
out with the full co-operation of the Lisbon government, had good
effect in reducing the number of slaves (7,000-8,000 a year) then be-
ing shipped out of the colony. Vessels of the Royal Navy blockaded
strategic stretches of the coast, burned barracoons, and destroyed
factories suspected of participating in the sale of Africans. Their
activity and a declining demand brought the commerce to a low ebb.
After 1850 the Atlantic trade from Moçambique was past its peak of
the previous two decades. Vessels flying the flags (usually spurious)
of various nations still put in at Quelimane or lesser ports, but their
appearance was more and more infrequent. Ibo was the last port to
go under; from i860 to 1865 the town became a center for the Cuban
trade which had briefly flared up again. Also from Ibo, Arab traders
shipped their cargo up the coast to Kilwa and Zanzibar.
The Moçambique trade, however, died hard. Now it took another
direction. From the beginning of the century French slavers had
called, openly and secretively, along the coast to acquire slaves for
transport to the New World or, a bit later, for France's island pos-
sessions in the southwest Indian Ocean. When the Zanzibari could not
deliver sufficient quantities of étmgrés, the French began to rely
more on Moçambique in the early 1850's to supply indentured
laborers. Africans were brought from the interior, in most cases by
the same merchants and agents who had formerly supplied the slave
ships, crammed in barracoons until the arrival of a French vessel,
hauled aboard and asked if they were willing to serve as voluntary
workers on Réunion and the Comores for five years. The ceremony
was a farcical formality, and the practice nothing less than slavery.
148 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

The main ports in this infamous traffic were Ibo, Delgado, and
Quelimane. Life in the interior, which had just begun to take a peace-
ful turn, was again upset by the violence of local slave capture,
wars, and kidnapings in which Portuguese captains openly connived.
Livingstone found the country around Lake Nyasa almost depopu-
lated by the Arab traders.
In 1855 and 1856 the Portuguese government in Lisbon issued
decrees prohibiting the system. Encouraged by Britain's sympathetic
attitude, the government in 1857 sent out the vigorous Governor
General Joäo Tavares de Almeida to put a stop to the free labor
emigration. Almost immediately after his arrival, de Almeida seized
a French barque, the Charles et George, with over a hundred émigrés
on board. A commission appointed by the governor brought in a
charge of slaving, condemned the vessel and sentenced her captain.
The French government had long argued that the system was a legal
acquisition of African labor and ordered the vessel to be released.
A diplomatic crisis ensued, which England could not mediate, and
in October 1858 two French warships entered the Tagus. Before such
a display of force, the Portuguese, in the absence of visible support
from her antislavery ally England, was obliged to capitulate and free
the Charles et George. Lisbon was bitter over the British betrayal, and
the government's efforts to suppress the emigration flagged. Although
Napoleon III abolished the system in 1864, rapacious smugglers sailed
the coast for another twenty years.

The implications of the latter-day traffic in émigrés went beyond

Moçambique. Reports from the colony by British consuls and mis-
sionaries, though clearly not lacking in partiality, contributed to the
hardening of popular and diplomatic antiPortuguese sentiment in
England and, to a lesser extent, in Europe and the United States. The
incubus of the slave trade rested heavily on the soul of the English
humanitarian, who now sought to atone for his country's excesses by
bringing the benefits of enlightened commerce and civilization to
ravaged Africa. It became the fashion to view Portugal's occupa-
tion in Angola and, especially, in Moçambique as a relic of a barbaric
and backward age; any diminution of her authority or territory
could be only a triumph for enlightenment. This attitude, which
more or less characterized English policy toward Portuguese Africa
up to the First World War, came to serve the purposes of blatant
English imperialism in southern Africa and was the most important
 S L A V E TRADE, SLAVERY, AND CONTRACT LABOR 149

single factor influencing Portuguese Africa's relations with the outside

world.
Livingstone was not the first or only traveler to raise his voice
in protest against the crimes committed under the Portuguese flag,
although he was the most influential. It was not enough for the Portu-
guese government to claim — indeed, it was a tactical mistake —
that she had no control over what went on in some parts of her
colonies. As early as the 1820's Commodore Owen roundly con-
demned the actions of Portuguese officials in Lourenço Marques
who captured free African tribesmen for sale. In 1857 the first British
consul to Moçambique, Lyons MacLeod, an ardent abolitionist, spent
nine hectic months in the colony, at the end of which he dedicated
one of the two volumes in a work on the Arab slave trade to a
neurotic indictment of the Portuguese in East Africa. That MacLeod
was chased from his residence one evening by angry citizens of Mo-
çambique island (one of the very few occasions when the traditional
Portuguese hospitality, extended even to severest critics, did not pre-
vail) and that he failed to gain the confidence of colonial officials for
his unyielding campaign against the slave trade may have influenced
his judgments. Nevertheless, such corrosive accusations as the fol-
lowing could only have made the blood of righteous Englishmen boil
the hotter: "The slave-trade thrives only in the African dominions
of the King of Portugal; and the late Portaria [a Luso-French agree-
ment of 1854 on émigré labor] of that monarch at once places His
Majesty foremost among the advocates of slavery. Until slavery is
entirely abolished in the African dominions of Don Pedro the Fifth,
the slave-trade will flourish, while outraged humanity and suffering
Africans exclaim to that potentate, 'Thou art the man!'" 2 1
Another contemporary account, by Reverend Henry Rowley,
of the first Universities' Mission, contained incidents reminiscent of
Uncle Tottis Cabin. Young children were described staggering under
chains weighing not less than fifty pounds. When Rowley rebuked
a Portuguese master for striking a Negro child with a whip, he
evoked this most curious response:
You see, in order to live out here, I must have slaves, and in order to
keep slaves I must have a whip. My whip is no worse than any other whip
I know of, but I do not justify it as right, I simply defend it as a necessity.
Wherever slaving exists discipline must of necessity be brutal. You Eng-
lish, because you do not keep slaves, take the philanthropic, the religious
view of the question; we, who do keep slaves, take the material view,
which regards the man as property . . . I admit the philanthropic view
is the best, for in the eyes of God all men are equal; and, though the
150 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

African be a degraded man, I know enough of him to be sure that he

can be raised by kindness and religion into a position not very inferior to
our own. But, if you keep slaves . . . you must degrade them by the
whip . . . until, like dogs, they are the unhesitating servants of your will
. . . I know the philanthropic, the religious view of the question, is the
best. I feel it is the best, but it will never pay me to adopt it. I am here. I
must be here. What am I to do? Starve? Not if I can help it. I do as others
do, I keep slaves, and while I keep slaves, I must use the whip.22

More than twenty years later Rhodes's agent, Frederick Selous, citing
equivalent brutalities, wrote that slaving in the central Zambezi was
by no means a thing of the past. On the other hand, the Portuguese
were not entirely without defenders among the English: David
Rankin, who lived and traded in the area for ten years, during the
same period as Selous, wrote that at Tete it was not uncommon for
natives to "voluntarily endeavour to make themselves slaves . . . for
they are kindly treated. They have the best of food, they are clothed
and well cared for, and have no more anxiety." 23
Livingstone, in Angola shortly before the decree of 1858 abolish-
ing slavery in all parts of the empire, and Lovett Cameron,24 who
visited the province while the slave was in the liberto stage, left a
legacy of detail sufficient to stir the English imagination until the
arrival of Henry Nevinson in 1904. Other travel and missionary ac-
counts filled out the familiar picture of a continuing slavery and
traffic in slaves existing under less provocative names. If the number
of works on Angola by outraged Englishmen in the last half of the
nineteenth century did not reach the proportions of those in Mo-
çambique it was only because English subjects had no great material
or evangelical interests in Angola at the time.

English attacks, whatever their inspiration or purpose, were not

without foundation. Rather than a problem in African affairs, emanci-
pation created a problem in semantics. The status of the African was
not suddenly changed; his relationship to the European was not per-
ceptibly affected; the unhealthy atmosphere in Moçambique and
Angola did not clear away. Only the legal apparatus was different.
Slavery became tutelage, forced labor, obligatory labor, contract
labor. Those who take the Liberal government of Portugal to task
for thrusting emancipation upon the colonies and thus, by indirec-
tion, creating an economic climate which bred these unsavory forms
of African exploitation 25 beg several questions: that emancipation
came abruptly and that Portuguese habits in the colonies, after three
 S L A V E TRADE, S L A V E R Y , AND CONTRACT LABOR I5 I

hundred years of slavery, were subject to substantial change. Slavery

had been the ruin of the colonies; now, perversely, it was held to be
its salvation.
The roots of tradition had grown deep in the African soil; they
were not to be torn out by the earnest efforts of humanitarians. The
time-calloused concept of the Negro as a working hand to be bought
and sold prevailed over distant ideals. The involvement of Portugal
in international disputes over the exploitation of the native popula-
tion only reinforced this medieval, allegedly practical, vision of the
African. By 1900 tradition became dignified as colonial policy and
was given legislative form. Portuguese colonialists began to talk like
European imperialists. In London in 1895 the Portuguese delegate,
Sr. Ferreira do Amarai, at the Sixth International Geographical Con-
ference (attended by Lugard, Stanley, and Ravenstein among others)
gave his views on African labor and high tariffs: " W e hear people
today talk about imported or forced labor and we equally hear the
gros mot of 'slavery' which has been used so often to exploit the
tender-hearted people of Europe. For me, the Negro will never work
willingly, and the only way to oblige him to work is to make him pay
dearly for the satisfaction of his few necessities. This has been the
economic policy of Portugal in Africa." 2 6
The abolition of slavery came slowly in Portuguese Africa and
was foreshadowed by a number of decrees and proposals. In 1845 it
was proposed in parliament that the children of slaves be free; in
1849, a project for gradual abolition was presented. Five years later,
a limited abolition decree by Prime Minister Sá da Bandeira became
law. Its principal clauses dealt with government slaves and Africans
imported from other lands: both categories were made libertos for a
certain number of years (in other words, they were freed but obliged
to work for their former masters). In 1856 slavery in the Ambriz
district of Angola was abolished — to avoid certain diplomatic ten-
sions — and in the same year Sá da Bandeira determined that children
of slaves should be born free, although their parents' masters should
have their services for twenty years. Finally, in April 1858, abolition
of all forms of slavery was set for twenty years hence; 27 the reasons
for the delay were to make the transition from a slave labor economy
to free labor less painful.
The violent reaction in Portuguese Africa to emancipation has
been noted. Colonists protested they would be bankrupt, and officials
swore that the best means for the gradual exploitation of the interior
had been taken from them. If the colonial governments had carried
out a policy of using free African labor, instead of slaves or libertos,
152 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

on their projects, the road to genuine emancipation might have been

easier. But administrators clung to the status quo. Among the protests
in Angola were the words of Antonio da Silva Porto, one of the most
respected frontiersmen in Portuguese African history. His beliefs have
been advanced up to the present day in defense of the " W e must go
slow" approach to native policy.
It is much to be desired that our legislators had limited their patriotic
love to the prosperity of the colony and not touched the matter of slavery,
letting it continue at home and in the crown colonies, where there might
be use for its assistance. Religion, progress, time, and, finally, the repres-
sion of the traffic to foreign possessions would bring about its extinction;
with the advance of civilization slaves and free men would come to be so
aware of its benefits that there would be created a love for work . . . In
the absence of this process and with the law of April 29, 1858, the conse-
quences will be the disrespect of the black for white men and, perhaps,
assassination will be the final result! Unhappily, the present laws invite
such an end.28
Although the English traveler Winwood Reade gave a jolly pic-
ture of affairs in Angola in about i860 ("Those who know what
slaves are will immediately infer that those of Angola are really the
masters; and not only masters, but tyrants. Such is unfortunately the
case with negroes, schoolboys, and all inferior beings. It is useless to
appeal to anything except their epidermis"),29 proponents of aboli-
tion in Lisbon were less convinced. Aware that little was being done
in preparation for the final expiry of slavery, they promulgated the
decree of 1869 whereby the state of slavery was immediately abolished
throughout the empire. All slaves were made libertos, and although
the ultimate connection with their master was not to be severed until
1878, in their future association with him they would be granted such
privileges as remuneration for services and protection of person. Did
this well-intentioned legislation plant the germ of an idea that a slave
could be a slave in the absence of slavery? Certainly the equivocal
position of the liberto could have been suggestive to the legislative
mind concerned later in the century with devising laws which would
simultaneously guarantee the African his independence and the
European his supply of labor. Even more certain is that the condition
of the liberto was maintained, in one guise or another, long after 1878.
In 1875 rhe s t a t e Uberto was abolished, effective one year later.
However, the ex-liberto was obliged to contract his services, prefer-
ably to his former master, for two years. The 108 articles drawn up to
implement the 1875 decree during the two-year period of tutelage
have been called the first Portuguese native labor code. Among other
 S L A V E TRADE, S L A V E R Y , AND CONTRACT LABOR I 53

points it introduced into colonial legislation the vagrancy clause, sug-

gested by Sousa Coutinho a hundred years before, under which the
nonproductive African could be judged a vagrant and made to con-
tract for his services.
For residents of Angola the vagrancy clause was one of the loop-
holes in the labor code of 1878, Regulamento para os contratos de
serviçais e colonos ñas provincias da Africa, although it is doubtful
that the rugged slave owners and traders of either colony needed a
formal loophole, since many of them ignored the Regulamento com-
pletely. The Regulation of 1878 has drawn the heated attacks of
conservative Portuguese colonialists, since it flatly abolished forced
labor and endeavored to replace it with a system of free labor.
Enemies of the measure protested that it sanctioned indolence and
vagabondage and saw to it that future legislation, particularly the
labor code of 1899, had an obligatory work clause. The Regulation
was an advanced milestone in Portuguese native policy which has not
been reached again. It was designed to protect the rights and interests
of the African and sought to guarantee for him a basic human dignity.
Impractical, possibly, but any labor policy which did not sanction
slavery was impractical in the African colonies. Enlightened for its
age, this Regulation is one of the refreshing moments in a colonial
policy which all too often seems to have been characterized by intent
to exploit the Negro in Africa and confuse Portugal's critics abroad.
But the measure did not condone vagrancy as it was defined in the
metropolitan penal code and was based on the supposition that a labor
contract between African and Portuguese would benefit each mu-
tually. These were two flaws which would not have had such grievous
consequence had the Regulation fallen on receptive soil. It did not,
and African-Portuguese relations rested on hypocrisy and injustice.
A series of techniques were evolved under which the colony's labor
supply — which was also Säo Tome's — remained relatively undis-
turbed. The simplest method was for the master to keep his former
slaves under the pretense of contracted serviçais. In the interior, cer-
tain Portuguese, mulatto, and Negro profiteers operated as in the days
of the slave trade, with the small difference that instead of buying the
prisoners or subjects of a chief they contracted for them. For his part
in gaining the contracts of workers, who remained in ignorance of the
whole procedure, the chief was bribed with alcohol, powder, and
guns. A third source of supply consisted of the so-called vagrants.
In some areas Portuguese officials considered all Africans not under
contract vagrants. Since certain colonial authorities, known as cura-
dores, were empowered to use their office in drawing up contracts
154 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

between employer and worker — and to act as guardians or protec-

tors for the African, a notion put forth by the Jesuits in Angola in
the seventeenth century—the door to exploitation was open: declare
the native a vagrant, force him into the usual five-year contract, let
the state, or its representative, pocket the revenue.
Practically, free labor did not exist in the colonies. The employer
felt less obligation to the contracted laborer than he had formerly
to his slaves. The serviçais were maintained at subsistence level. Many
died or failed to return to their villages, especially those exported to
Sâo Tomé, and some parts of Angola were almost emptied of their
inhabitants; from other areas the Africans fled into the deep interior.
Some contract workers, driven to desperation by the distance from
their villages and the inhumanity of the treatment given them, re-
volted and formed fierce little bands of warriors. Missionary litera-
ture of the i88o's and 1890's is replete with horror tales, which were
promptly discredited by local officials, who have long held that foreign
missionaries should give up freedom of conscience and speech for the
privilege of working in Angola and Moçambique. But commentaries
on brutality in the colonies came not only from foreigners. Belo de
Almeida was a Portuguese soldier in Angola during that period, not a
missionary.

It was the custom in those days to give them [serviçais] the rudest and
most difficult work, in domestic service as well as in the fields and fac-
tories, above all in the matter of porterage, in which they took the role of
humble animals.
For the slightest fault they were often cruelly punished by being
beaten with the hippopotamus-hide whip which cut their skin horribly.
Very frequently one heard in the late hour of a warm mysterious African
night piercing shrieks of pain from the poor wretches who were being
beaten by the company officers or head men, generally hard-hearted
mulattoes.30

The rubber boom at the turn of the century intensified the

scramble for workers. In the madness that swept over the rubber
country in the Belgian Congo and Angola, whole villages were regi-
mented and marched hundreds of miles to extract the precious latex.
With the male population of the village frequently under contract in
another part of the colony, the majority of the workers were women
and children. The work was hard, the food insufficient. On the return
trip the villagers acted as bearers. If not all of those who went re-
turned, neither the chief nor the rubber contractor was unduly con-
cerned, Nor was the Angolan government, which did not care one
 S L A V E TRADE, S L A V E R Y , AND CONTRACT LABOR I 55

way or the other, pleased to collect the export duties on rubber which
was the colony's major product in those years.
The principle of forced labor, denied in the Regulation of 1878,
was the heart of a report submitted by a government committee which
met in 1898 to study the problems of Portuguese Africa. The gist of
the committee's recommendations was incorporated in the Regula-
tion of 1899, the most complete native labor code until 1928 and the
practical philosophy for much of the New State's African policy. The
committee was dominated by Antonio Enes, hard-headed imperialist
and former royal commissioner of Moçambique. Enes had scored the
previous labor code and was determined that muddled liberal ideas
should not be the basis for another. Aware that Portugal was in a
weak diplomatic position vis-à-vis her European neighbors because of
the underdevelopment of her African colonies ("Portugal must, ab-
solutely must, without delay make her African inheritance prosper,
and prosperity can only come from productivity"), Enes maintained
that this material development rested on the African's shoulders. Lest
the bald implications of forced labor again draw the fire of humani-
tarians — and because they believed that what they said was sociolog-
ical law — members of the committee sought to define these repres-
sions in the language of the day, to wit, that it was the duty of Europe
to promote the African's advancement into civilization: "The state,
not only as a sovereign of semi-barbaric populations, but also as a
depository of social authority, should have no scruples in obliging and,
if necessary, forcing [italics the committee's] these rude Negroes in
Africa, these ignorant Pariahs in Asia, these half-savages from Oceania
to work, that is, to better themselves by work, to acquire through work
the happiest means of existence, to civilize themselves through work
. . ." 31 Tradition had reasserted itself in African policy.
Thus the first article of the Regulation of 1899 states that "all
natives of Portuguese overseas provinces are subject to the obligation,
moral and legal, of attempting to obtain through work the means that
they lack to subsist and to better their social condition. They have full
liberty to choose the method of fulfilling this obligation, but if they
do not fulfill it public authority may force a fulfillment." The obliga-
tion was considered fulfilled by those who had sufficient capital to
assure their means of existence or those who had a paying profession,
by those who farmed on their own account a plot of land whose size
was to be determined by local authorities or by those who produced
goods for export in quantities judged sufficient by local authorities,
and by those who worked for salary a minimum number of months
each year, this number to be fixed by local authorities. Exempt from
i56 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

the obligation were women, men over sixty years of age, boys under
fourteen, the sick and the invalid, sepoys, policemen, chiefs, and
locally prominent Africans. "All others who do not fulfill voluntarily
the obligation to work . . . will be compelled by the authorities to
do so." T o make sure that sufficient employment opportunities were
available for refractory Africans the law permitted their services to
be requisitioned from the provincial government either by govern-
ment agencies or by private individuals and companies. T o protect
the African worker the Regulation specified that the employers pro-
vide adequate salaries for him and look after his health and living
conditions. Finally, the law flatly forbade the employer to hold back
any of the worker's salary or oblige him to buy from the employer's
store.
The Regulation of 1 9 1 1 continued almost intact the provisions of
the 1899 code. It limited the term of the contract to two years and
provided additional penalties for employers administering corporal
punishment to the African worker. Three years later the Portuguese
Republic issued a decree revoking all previous native labor legislation,
replacing it with an extensive document designed to correct the abuses
committed under previous legislation. The new code was a little softer
around the edges but as hard at the core. " E v e r y sound native in the
Portuguese colonies is subject under this law to the moral and legal
obligation of providing, by means of work, his sustenance and of pro-
gressively bettering his social condition" (Article 1 ). The obligation
could be filled in some cases by three months' labor and in others by
nothing less than a year's. Correctional labor penalties ran from a
week to a year. Correctional labor could only be used by the provincial
government or a municipality except when these bodies were unable
to provide work for the men, in which case the forced laborers could
be taught the dignity of work by an approved private employer req-
uisitioning them (in Angola the use of forced labor by private firms
or individuals was theoretically abolished by a decree of 1 9 2 1 ) . The
government also reserved the right to requisition labor within each
chief's jurisdiction for works of public utility within the area. The
obligation of colonial officials to assist in recruiting was withdrawn,
but the colonial government was to encourage the African by all
legitimate means to contract his services. What this article tried to
do was to curb, but not kill, the enthusiasm of administrators in the
interior and to bring an end to indiscriminate recruiting. The good
offices of the chief were to be used in persuading reluctant tribesmen
to fulfill their obligation. Professional recruiters, individuals and com-
panies, of established good character were permitted, within specified
 S L A V E TRADE, S L A V E R Y , AND CONTRACT LABOR I 57

restrictions, to contract the services of Africans (the recruiters were

usually hired by large land companies, although free lances supplying
smaller farms and industries also practiced). Although contracts were
not legally demanded of workers, they were required to possess a
duly stamped record of gainful employment. The Regulation stressed
increased obligations for employers in matters of transport, medical
care, maintenance, salary, and instruction.32
It would be agreeable to observe that the reality was an improve-
ment over the ideal, but this, of course, was not the case, and it would
be bootless to dwell on the continuing exploitation of the African
in Moçambique and Angola, although labor conditions in the first
quarter of the twentieth century were a little better than they had
been throughout the nineteenth. There is often a generous sensibility
present in the Portuguese character, and in the face of the intolerable
reality perpetuated by restrictive labor codes, a number of provincial
governors strove to prevent excesses, and citizens of both provinces
made repeated protests in the African's defense. The tragedy was not
only that the primary intent of the legislation was carried out zeal-
ously, but that its positive side, which did contain a modicum of social
justice and improvement for the African, was neglected. There is not
much evidence that the African was "civilized through work," while
there is plenty of evidence that he was degraded and exploited. That
a similar exploitation went on simultaneously in French Africa, as
readers of Gide are aware, in the Belgian Congo, in German East
Africa, and even in the Union of South Africa should not give com-
fort to the Portuguese and less to foreign critics. The Portuguese have
long boasted that they better than any other European colonial power
understand the African, but if it is this understanding which is in-
corporated in the native labor codes of 1899 and 1914, one may con-
clude that understanding the African and exploiting him are often
one and the same thing. 33

T h e continuation of something very akin to slavery — and even

the slave trade — in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries
and the official sanction this activity seemed to find in the labor code
of 1899 involved Angola and Portugal in a controversy which has not
yet been forgotten and aroused resentments perhaps greater than
those created by the problem of the slave-trade abolition. This was
the Sâo Tomé contract-labor scandal which grew out of the Nevinson
and Cadbury reports. Once again a number of important vocal
Englishmen took up cudgels against their country's ancient ally on
the matter of improper labor practices in Angola and Sâo Tomé.
i58 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

The Sâo Tomé scandal had been simmering for forty years before
it boiled over. Had not the publicized atrocities from the Belgian
Congo rubber forests drawn the attention of a shocked Europe to that
part of the world, it is possible that Angola's neo-slave trade to Sâo
Tomé would have run its course without disturbing the world's con-
science. It could not have lasted very long after 1904-1905, the years
of Nevinson's visit, because Angola herself needed labor too des-
perately to permit its export to Sâo Tomé.
As early as 1865, Commissioner Vredenburg, British member of
the English-Portuguese Mixed Commission on Slaving, complained
that Negroes were still being shipped from Benguela to the cocoa
plantations of Sâo Tomé and Principe. The efforts of the governor
general of Angola to halt it were unsuccessful, and his special repre-
sentative reported that the governor of Benguela was apathetic and
lesser officials there were in open connivance with the traffic. In 1868
Acting Commissioner Hewitt and in 1869 Vredenburg again picked
up the issue, noting that the slaves were now called libertos and classi-
fied on shipping records as steerage passengers to the two islands. T h e
response of the Portuguese minister in London was sharp and indig-
nant: he pointed out, incorrectly, that it was a question of the emi-
gration of free labor and, correctly, that existing Anglo-Portuguese
treaties did not deal with libertos but slaves.34 T h e matter seems to
have ended there, although subsequently the Earl of Mayo described
in 1882 the system of recruiting labor in Angola for the islands, and
missionaries (particularly those of Bishop Taylor's self-supporting
missions) and travelers (Crawford, Harding, and James Johnston)
published gruesome tales of slave processions from the highlands along
the via dolorosa to Catumbela. Readers of Joseph Conrad's " A n Out-
post of Progress" (1898) were introduced to a fictional band of ten
Negro traders from Luanda who had penetrated into the Congo in
search of slaves. Responsible opinion in the Portuguese government
and press demanded investigations and corrective action, and gestures
were made by the colonial office in Lisbon and the governor general's
office in Luanda; but without honest co-operation from minor officials
and a stronger authority throughout the province than Portugal ex-
erted, little could be permanently accomplished.
The most pointed presentation of the process was not written by
an Englishman, but by a governor of Portuguese Guinea, Judice
Biker. 35 T h e majority of the workers, Biker stated, came through the
ports of Benguela and N o v o Redondo. T h e y were purchased in the
interior from local chiefs by merchants, or their agents, from the two
ports. When an order for laborers came down the coast, African vil-
 S L A V E TRADE, S L A V E R Y , AND C O N T R A C T LABOR I 59

lagers were taken before the curador (the officer in charge of native
affairs), contracted as serviçais, and sent off to Sâo Tomé. Generally
the curador was as ignorant of their language as they of his, and the
contract negotiations were reduced to a formality. The contract was
for five years, but at the end of the period none of the Angolans re-
turned. "Is this because the roceiro [plantation owner] makes their
life so agreeable, dressing them and feeding them so well, instructing
them, civilizing them, creating necessities for them so that he may have
the satisfaction of satisfying them? Do they choose to continue to
work there, renewing their contracts?" Biker asks. "Would that this
were so." Biker goes on to describe the twelve-hour working day in the
moist island climate, the high infant-mortality rate, the poor diet, the
treatment of pregnant women. The main supply of workers came
from Angola, increasing steadily after 1878, save for a few Africans
from the nearby coast and a handful of Chinese peasants. The export
figure for Angola ran from two to five thousand a year, men, women,
and children. The greatest crime, concludes Governor Biker, was not
the enslaving of the Angolan or his sufferings on Sâo Tomé, but the
refusal of the plantation owner to repatriate a single worker. Herein
lies the strongest condemnation of the bad faith of planter and officials
alike.
Henry W . Nevinson in A Modern Slavery, published in 1906, did
nothing more than document in cold and angry detail the substance of
the charges made by Biker and by both Portuguese and outside critics
distressed by the brutalities committed in the name of contract labor.
The difference was that Nevinson had a larger, more receptive au-
dience. One of the most famous foreign correspondents of his time,
having reported the Greco-Turkish and South African wars for the
London Daily Chronicle, Nevinson was to be found in the vanguard
of all social reform movements. On his return from South Africa he
was approached by Harper's, asking if he would undertake an "ad-
venturous journey" for them for one thousand pounds. After dis-
carding Arabia and the South Seas as possible destinations, Nevinson
consulted H. R. Fox Bourne, Secretary of the Aborigine's Protective
Society and recent author of an exposé of the Belgian Congo rubber
scandals, Civilisation in Congoland (wherein Fox Bourne implies that
Portuguese treatment of Africans is preferable to the Belgian variety)
and Travers Buxton, Secretary of the British and Foreign Anti-Slavery
Society. Both spoke of dim rumors — contemporary reports from the
British consul in Luanda were hardly to be classified as dim rumors
— of appalling horrors reaching them from Angola and Sâo Tomé.
" M y decision was taken, for here was a journey almost certainly ad-
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

venturous and with an object definite, inspiring, and possibly bene-

ficial." 38 Nevinson's presence in the Portuguese African provinces,
then, was not accidental, nor is it likely that his talks with Fox Bourne
and Buxton left him altogether without prejudice toward his sub-
ject.
At the same time Nevinson was neither a trouble-maker nor an in-
ternational carpetbagger nor a hired hand for antislavery forces. It
has been a serious mistake for Portuguese officials to attempt to dis-
miss him, and others like him, such as Edward Ross and Basil David-
son, with hasty countercharges and personal invective instead of
trying to make a thoughtful and substantial presentation of the Portu-
guese case. In the first place, Nevinson was a good journalist. He got
his facts right. On the basis of travel, interview, and reading, Nevin-
son made a reasoned, if not impartial, presentation of slave-labor prac-
tices which Portuguese writers have denied but never satisfactorily
refuted. In the second place, he isolated the guilt to those involved:
the village chief, the contractor, the supplier in Benguela or Novo
Redondo, the planters on Sâo Tomé, and the corrupt or misled officials
along the line who permitted the transactions. The Portuguese, Nevin-
son noted, were "as sensitive and kindly as other people" and didn't
like their province referred to as a slave state. He cited the Defeza de
Angola, an occasional newspaper which had exposed the system. He
also wrote that the old caravan shipments had been reduced in recent
years because of the shock of public feeling in Portugal and the stern
action taken by the commandants of several interior forts.37 A Mod-
ern Slavery is inspired by a genuine humanitarian feeling; it is not
built on generalizations and innuendo. Its details are calculated to
shock, in the tradition of nineteenth-century antislavery literature, for
Nevinson wrote with passionate purpose. Even twenty years later, in
a volume of reminiscences, recalling a scene at Novo Redondo where
he had seen a young African mother try to scramble up a swaying
ship's ladder from a lighter loaded with contratados, Nevinson wrote:

At last she reached the top, soaked with water, her blanket gone, her
gaudy clothing torn off or hanging in strips, while the baby on her back,
still crumpled and pink from the womb, squeaked feebly like a blind
kitten. Swinging it around to her breast, she walked modestly and with-
out complaint to her place in the row that waited the doctor's inspection.
In all my life I have never heard anything so hellish as the outburst of
laughter with which the ladies and gentlemen of the first class watched
the slave woman's struggle up to the deck. It was one of those things
which made one doubt whether mankind has been worth the travail of
our evolution.38
 S L A V E TRADE, S L A V E R Y , AND CONTRACT LABOR l6l

Nevinson's accounts — in addition to A Modern Slavery he wrote

a series of articles for The Spectator and The Fortnightly Review —
set off a storm of indignation in England which had the effect of pre-
cipitating the controversy. In a series of lectures, Nevinson aroused
public sentiment against "legalized slavery in Angola and Sâo Tomé."
He found support from many eminent Englishmen, among them
Ramsay MacDonald, John Galsworthy, H. G. Wells, and Gilbert
Murray, and from long-term Portuguese and foreign residents of
Angola who wrote to him that he had understated the case. Nevinson
urged his government to make representations to the government of
Portugal and suggested that chocolate manufacturers in England set
up a boycott of Sâo Tomé cocoa. In particular he called upon Wil-
liam Cadbury of the chocolate firm to uphold his Quaker principles
by refusing to buy from Sâo Tomé and to publish a report his repre-
sentative, Joseph Burtt, had made of conditions in the Portuguese
African colonies.
Nevinson had met Burtt on Sâo Tomé when the latter was on his
way to Angola and had characterized him as a man who "appeared
to despise 'the working man' and was inclined to reverence the work-
ing capitalist." Since Burtt confirmed Nevinson's suspicions ("The
Portuguese are certainly doing a marvelous job for Angola and these
islands. Call it slavery if you like. Names and systems don't matter.
The sum of human happiness is being infinitely increased. And, after
all, are we not all slaves?"), the journalist had scant hopes of convert-
ing him, although a Quaker, to the humanitarian cause and was agree-
ably surprised when Burtt sent back word to Cadbury, after a year in
Angola and Sâo Tomé, that Nevinson's report, far from being exag-
gerated, was an underestimate of the truth.39 Cadbury was not immedi-
ately convinced and even tried to dissuade Nevinson from publishing
an article in The Fortnightly Review. Thereupon The Standard took
up the attack on Cadbury, on the occasion of the industrialist's own de-
parture for Angola, and heaped satiric invective on his timidity, thus
setting off one of the most celebrated English libel suits — wherein
both parties were agreed that there was slavery in Angola — of the
decade.
Cadbury was not as timorous as he was represented, although he
had proceeded with supreme discretion. In 1901 Cadbury Brothers
had called attention to unsatisfactory labor practices, and two years
later Cadbury himself had gone to Lisbon where the Sâo Tomé
Planters' Association denied that such conditions existed and the Min-
ister of Marine and Overseas made light of the matter. Acting in con-
sultation with other English firms and a German company, Cadbury
I Ó2 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

had sent Joseph Burtt to the islands, Angola, and Moçambique. On the
advice of the Foreign Office, all controversy in the press was avoided
until Bum's return. Cadbury and Burtt then went to Lisbon to make
further representations. The new Minister of Marine and Overseas,
Aires de Ornelas, was frank and helpful, and promised immediate
action; but three months later he was out of office, and Cadbury was
again driven to correspondence with the Planters' Association, listing
Bum's allegations of contract-labor abuses. In his letter of November
28, 1907, Cadbury reviewed the charges of high mortality, non-re-
patriation of workers, bogus contracts, and concluded, "However
much it may cost us to leave off buying your excellent cocoa and al-
though we know it will cause a loss . . . we must say that our con-
science will not permit us to continue buying the raw material for
our industry, if we do not have the certainty of its being produced in
the future by a system of free labor." 40 The Association responded
that Mr. Burtt's figures were inaccurate, that workers died because
of the climate, fled because of quarrels among themselves, and that
they remained on the island because they wanted to and that it would
be "illegal and inhuman to oblige them to go away against their
wishes." As for the brutalities in Angola, the Association refrained
from commenting particularly since they had no first-hand knowledge
of the area, but they did observe that such inhumanity took place "in
regions where no permanent government or police authority exists,"
and that the Portuguese government was taking energetic action in
Angola. 41
Cadbury then decided to verify the accusations by visiting the
Portuguese possessions. The publication of his and Burtt's observa-
tions bore out in almost every detail what had been said by Biker and
Nevinson. Labour in Portuguese West Africa was a temperate unemo-
tional presentation of the facts. Numerous appendices contained
recent decrees against forced labor and substantiating comment from
Portuguese newspapers. As far as Angola is concerned, the most inter-
esting section of the work is a presentation of the interview between
Cadbury and Governor General Paiva Couceiro, during which the
governor made the following points: Cadbury was free to go where
he chose in Angola and see what he pleased; he could copy any pub-
lished figures, but since Cadbury was not accredited by the British
government, Paiva Conceiro was unable to give him any specific infor-
mation; the Portuguese forbade slavery; Angola was a large province,
and it was possible that sometimes breaches in the law took place; labor
recruiting in Angola was done by the Labor Bureau of Sâo Tomé, over
which the Angolan government had no control; contracts made in the
 SLAVE TRADE, SLAVERY, AND C O N T R A C T LABOR 163

interior for native labor had to be examined on the coast, but the gov-
ernment was not responsible; a new law of 1908 had made minor
changes, but the system of contracting labor was about the same as
always.42
Shortly after Cadbury's return to England, Cadbury Brothers, two
other English companies, and a German firm began a boycott of Sâo
Tomé cocoa. In the same year, 1909, the Anti-Slavery Society sent
Burtt to the United States to convince chocolate manufacturers there
to refrain from buying the island's cocoa. Burtt was received by
President Taft, but no United States action resulted. Meanwhile the
controversy in England fed on itself. In a letter to the Times (June 22,
1909) missionary Charles Swan, author of another study on contract
labor, The Slavery of Today (London, 1909), claimed a twenty-
three-year association with Angola and gave the results of an inquiry
he had conducted — at the request of Cadbury — into forced labor in
the interior. The statement was signed by all the missionaries in
Angola Swan had been able to reach. The letter stated that Africans
had been constantly bought and sold during the time each missionary
had been in Angola, that although many Africans had been exported
under the contract-labor system, they had not found one worker who
understood the contract, and that they had never known one Angolan
who went voluntarily to Sâo Tomé nor one who had been repatriated.
In 1913 the most scalding condemnation of contract labor in
Angola was published. John Harris' Portuguese Slavery: Britain's
Dilemma reviewed what the author considered the blighted record of
the past twelve years. Citing priests, colonial officials, Angolan news-
papers, Harris made dramatic reference to skulls by the side of the old
slave trail, shackles, murder, and a devastated land — details familiar
to the reader of African slave-trade classics. On the Belgian Congo
frontier, Harris charged, from 20,000 to 40,000 slaves were still sold
each year. Regarding Sâo Tomé, of the 70,000 to 100,000 Angolan
workers shipped there in the thirty years preceding 1908, not a single
one had been repatriated. " N o amount of argument, no number of
Pecksniffian decrees and regulations can alter these facts." 43
Harris' work was the last important shot fired on the English side.
The First World War, during which England and Portugal reaffirmed
their friendship, diverted attention from the problem; in the meantime,
Portuguese colonial administrators had taken a determined interest in
mitigating the abuses of contract labor to Sâo Tomé and saw to it that
most of the workers returned to Angola on the expiration of their con-
tract. The rigid attitudes taken by the British and Portuguese govern-
ments in 1910 and 1911 had made real co-operation in those years im-
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

possible, but in 1913 the Portuguese government agreed to accept a

specially appointed British consul general for Portuguese West Africa,
ostensibly to supervise consular posts there. Consular reports from the
region from 1909 to 1916 reveal the vigor with which the Foreign
Office quietly pushed the fight against the excesses of forced or con-
tract labor. During these years conditions gradually improved, to the
satisfaction of the English representatives, and in 1916 Consul Hall
Hall, in the last report of a series, informed his government that con-
ditions were such to justify the purchase of cocoa from Sâo Tomé and
Principe.44 T w o progress reports, one in 1915 and the other in 1917,
indicate the changes that had taken place. From a total of four
Africans repatriated in 1910 the number had steadily increased to the
point where almost as many Angolans left Sâo Tomé as reached
there.45 About the same time Joseph Burtt wrote that "a great human
drama has been acted, and it has ended happily." 48
The charges, countercharges, and recriminations growing out of
the long debate came to have a certain sameness, but on some points
there was fairly general agreement. Not even Nevinson found living
conditions for the Angolans intolerable on Sâo Tomé. Burtt found
them quite satisfactory, and later observers classified them as excellent.
As early as the 1890's the Portuguese on the island found a defender
in Mary Kingsley, who refused to believe the story that some Krumen
who had hired themselves out to planters there were not released when
their contract expired. "I have seen too much of the Portuguese in
Africa to believe that they would, in a wholesale way, be cruel to
natives." 47 Both Portuguese and English were in substantial agree-
ment that the labor-recruiting system in Angola was a cruel affair,
breeding inequities and corruption, and both hoped, possibly with
varying degrees of fervor, that they would soon be corrected. Nor
was their any essential quarrel about the technical legality of contract-
ing workers in Angola for the islands.
Quite apart from the popular and diplomatic pressures from Eng-
land, members of the Portuguese government and many Portuguese
citizens were disturbed about what was going on. Their distress was
revealed in condemnations in the Portuguese parliament and press and
in a number of legislative steps taken to control the practice. In 1903,
1908, 1909 (two decrees), 1912 (two decrees), the government set
up restraints, in the words of a 1909 relatèrio, "to safeguard the pres-
tige of the Portuguese name and to guarantee more effectively the
rights of natives, as free citizens, granted by the national constitu-
tion."
When some Portuguese wrote, on the other hand, that the
 S L A V E TRADE, S L A V E R Y , AND C O N T R A C T LABOR 165

Angolan went willingly to Sâo Tomé and refused to return, that the
labor contractor who brought him from the coast was saving him
from death in the interior, they were less persuasive and seem to have
been seeking to convince themselves. N o r did it further their defense
to refer to the English critics as sickly sentimental philanthropists.
T h e y were on surer ground when they accused the chocolate syndi-
cate of being motivated by economic reasons as well as humanitarian
ones in discrediting the Sâo Tomé producers. A second telling point
was their invitation to Nevinson, Cadbury, and their colleagues to
share their Christian concern with the Moçambique laborers con-
tracted for the South African mines and to ascertain how many went
voluntarily to serve English capital and how many returned from the
healthful airs of the pits.48
The colonial administration of the Republic established in 1910,
while maintaining the obligation for the African to work, bent its ef-
forts to do away with these vestiges of slavery in Angola. 49 Governor
General Norton de Matos, arrogant, blunt, and honest, refused to heed
the complaints about the shortage of labor and the necessity to force
the African to work. He overrode the resistance of local residents in
a series of decrees and draconian measures designed to get the African
to work for himself. He attempted to enforce those parts of the labor
codes guaranteeing the contract worker minimum benefits. Corporal
punishment was abolished, officials supervised, and the licenses of cer-
tain recruiting agents suspended. With the establishment of the cir-
cumscription (see Chapters IX and X ) and regional civil administra-
tors, Norton de Matos attempted to insure the rights of the Africans,
to defend their property and to forbid violence and extortion. He
tried to eliminate so-called vagrancy by promoting agriculture and
persuading the African to produce more than he used. When asked
where the European plantations and industries were to get workers,
the governor replied that the economic development of Angola rested
on the moral and material progress of the African, that it was the duty
of Portugal to civilize, elevate, and instruct the African and to take
advantage of his capacities as a farmer, to treat him with justice and
equity. Matos held that the African had to be free, a property owner,
and master of his skills; his administration had to have the courage not
only to formulate this ideal, but to carry it out. On these principles
were to be resolved the province's labor problems.
But the habits of centuries were stronger than the reforms of one
man or one government, and after the governor general's departure in
1915 his programs for the Africans began to wither. When Norton
de Matos returned in 1919 as high commissioner his concern for the
166 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

welfare of the native population now conflicted with his grandiose

dreams for Angola's development, and these projects demanded labor.
T h e 1925 report of the American sociologist from the University of
Wisconsin, Edward Alsworth Ross, gave a disturbing picture of
African life in Angola.
The year before, Ross and a N e w York physician, Melville
Cramer, came to Angola to study the native situation. In some ways
Ross's visit (Cramer's contribution to the project was negligible) was
typical of the whirlwind tour — followed by a superficial, often inac-
curate account — which has brought so much ridicule on American
travelers and journalists. Ross stated that he was in Angola from July
19 to September 3 and a shorter time in Moçambique. (Although Ross
had some harsh words about Moçambique, his report dwells mainly
on labor excesses in Angola.) His report was submitted to the Tem-
porary Slaving Commission of the League of Nations, where it was
given a careful rebuttal by the Portuguese delegation. With that the
matter seems to have come to an official dead-end. But the resent-
ments it stirred up Unger on.
Had the Ross report been full of self-righteous indignation and
generalities, one might discard it as the work of a hasty traveler who
came to Angola knowing what he was to find and departing shortly
after, having found what he was looking for. But this was not the case,
and what Ross wrote was completely consistent with what others had
been saying about labor conditions in Angola for half a century. Ross
visited the interior, Malange, Bailundo, and Bié. That he spent most of
his time upcountry with Protestant missionaries, who assisted him in
his study and furnished him interpreters, made his work for Portu-
guese colonial officials not only worthless, but prejudicially false. One
of the curious and troubling aspects of Ross's account is its unimag-
inative presentation. He makes no reference to what others have writ-
ten about the abuses of contract labor. T h e work is a simple series of
minuscule case histories on individuals and villages. Of an Ambaca
village he wrote:
Their lot is getting harder. Things got abruptly worse from 1917 to
1918 [the year a number of European coffee planters arrived in this area
of the province]. The Government makes them work, but gives them
nothing. They return to find their fields neglected, no crops growing.
They would rather be slaves than what they are now . . . Now nobody
cares whether they live or die. The Government serfdom is more heart-
less than the old domestic slavery which was cruel only when the master
was of cruel character. Now they are in the grip of a system which makes
 S L A V E TRADE, S L A V E R Y , AND CONTRACT LABOR 167

no allowances for the circumstances of the individual and ignores the fate
of the families of the labor recruits.
There are 140 huts in this area . . . For fifteen months not less than 50
[villagers] have been required to work on the roads, and some months
more than a hundred. The quota is maintained by shifts.
When a white man applies to the Administrador for workers a soldier
is sent with him to the village who calls out the chief and notifies him that
so many men must be forthcoming from the village. When the men are
taken for distant plantations, they are provided with a thin jersey, a pano,
and in the cool season a blanket. T w o months ago thirty from this area
were taken to an unknown area . . .
In 1922 twenty from this area were requisitioned to work as carriers
between L and Ρ . Their taxes had already been paid. For six
months service they got the equivalent of $1.80. They think that the
Government gets twelve dollars for every man who works for the planter
six months. Somebody keeps most of it so that the laborer gets no pay.
The law contemplates that the laborer shall enter into labor contracts
with a free will. The Ambaquistas say that they put some thumb prints
on some papers, but they do not know what the papers contain, and would
be flogged should they dare refuse to sign them.50

Elsewhere Ross refers to work cards with thirty-six-day months,

the terror inspired by the native sepoys, and the sense of hopelessness
felt by the African villager. A t several plantations and the mission
farms he found the African well paid and contented, but his conclu-
sions on the life of the African in 1924 bear the impress of centuries.
The labor system in Angola is virtual serfdom, and the African spends
so much time working for others that he cannot take care of his own
crops. Wages turned over in trust by employers to the government
seldom reach the African. Skilled labor is so misused that the African
sees no point in learning skills. Needless roadbuilding places a crush-
ing burden on him. Labor stealing is prevalent. Officials do not feel
strong enough to stand up to farmers or traders in defense of the
African. Sepoys are grossly brutal and abuse their authority. The gov-
ernment provides nothing in the way of schools or medicine or emer-
gency relief. Parts of the interior are so bad that the Angolans escape
to the Belgian Congo or Rhodesia. The amount of the hut tax and its
manner of collection create severe hardships.51
Some of Ross's remarks might justly be regarded as inconclusive
because of the choice of subjects he interrogated — almost exclusively
from the vicinity of Protestant missions — and because of the usual
difficulties encountered by a stranger working through an interpreter.
But the district governor, F. M. de Oliveira Santos, who was given
168 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

the task of making formal rebuttal to Ross's charges, did not pursue
this line of argumentation. Setting out with an aide, Oliveira Santos
retraced Ross's footsteps, collecting signed contradictions and addi-
tional statements from as many people as would admit having talked
to the American. These documents, a vehement personal attack on
Ross and the missionaries, and some eloquently vague declarations on
Portugal's humane native policy formed the basis of the reply.
Oliveira Santos' itemized conclusions indicated that the Resposta was
as hasty a piece of work as the one it sought to correct: ( ι ) Ross was
not in Angola as long as he said he was. (2) He did not visit nineteen
embalas, as stated, but only thirteen. (3) All of his information was
furnished by Congregational and Methodist missionaries. (4) These
missionaries insinuate themselves into the political and administrative
life of Angola. (5) Some missionaries have carried out business and
commerce in violation of their visas. (6) T h e vague cases of beatings
and force reported by Ross have not been proved. (7) The violation
of village women by sepoys was not proved. (8) His forced labor
statistics lack foundation. (9) His charges of graft against local ad-
ministrators are false. ( 1 0 ) Construction of roads reduces the neces-
sity of using the Africans as bearers. ( 1 1 ) The Portuguese have a valu-
able native assistance program. ( 1 2 ) T h e y have set up schools for the
African. ( 1 3 ) The work done by the Protestant missions does not
contribute to the welfare of the community. ( 1 4 ) Ross's conclusions,
given him by the missionaries, are palpably false. ( 1 5 ) Dr. Cramer did
not collaborate in the report. (16) His statements on native tools and
primitive work habits are inexact and incomplete. ( 1 7 ) Portuguese
abuse, when true, has been punished. ( 1 8 ) The crimes of sepoys, when
ascertained, have been punished. (19) All laws regarding the African
are faithfully followed. (20) The missionaries don't co-operate in
getting the African to pay his taxes. ( 2 1 ) T h e Portuguese native
policy is excellent. (22) T h e Protestant missionaries would be advised
to act more circumspectly if they desire to remain in the province. 52

In Moçambique the use of native labor, subject to the same general

colonial laws and deriving from tradition, offered no sharp variations
with practices in Angola, although Portuguese East Africa did not get
embroiled in a Sâo Tomé controversy. T h e French islands in the late
nineteenth century and the Witwatersrand through the first half of
the twentieth century received their quota of contract workers from
Moçambique. (The émigré system was as reprehensible as the
serviçais traffic to Sâo Tomé, but the recruiting for the South African
 S L A V E TRADE, S L A V E R Y , AND C O N T R A C T LABOR 169

mines had almost from the beginning a framework of legality and was
partly based on voluntary contracting by the African. B y 1930 earlier
methods of coercion had largely disappeared.) The effect of this an-
nual emigration of workers left Moçambique with the same labor
shortages as in Angola.
In 1906 the district governor of Inhambane, Almeida Garrett, sug-
gested several changes in the native labor code to produce more
workers. These included raising the exemption requirements for
African farmers, obliging women to work, raising the fine for
forçados (vagrants), and increasing the head tax. 53 Ross reported the
same harsh conditions existing in Moçambique as in West Africa. But
there were vigilant citizens in Lourenço Marques whose outcries acted
as a check to the wholesale exploitation of the African. The contract
made by High Commissioner Brito Camacho, for example, with Mr.
Hornung of the Sena Sugar Estates in 1921 granting labor recruiting
privileges to the company brought down a storm of protest — not
all humanitarian, to be sure — around Brito Camacho's ears.54 At the
beginning of the century Freire de Andrade, governor general from
1906 to 1910, implemented reforms and held his subordinates to an
accounting of their conduct in native affairs.
The flow of Negro workers to the South African mines was a
pointed issue from 1900. Some Portuguese were disturbed for humane
reasons, others by the drain of labor from the colony. The arrange-
ments between the colonial government and the Transvaal which
formalized the exchange of workers for commercial traffic were de-
fended by the administration mainly on the basis of expediency. There
was a certain amount of truth in the argument, for the Africans from
Angola and Moçambique have long been drawn across the frontiers
into the Congo, Rhodesia, and South Africa by the lure of higher
wages. In the 1870's Africans from Delagoa Bay migrated to Natal to
work on farms there for three or four years before returning with
their earnings. Portuguese authorities put into effect a passport fee
which the Natal farmers, eager for the labor, sometimes paid. Grad-
ually a series of agreements were evolved which attempted to regulate
the emigration. With the development of the Witwatersrand gold and
coal industry, Africans from the Lourenço Marques district showed
a distinct preference for working in the mines to working at home.
Powerless to halt the yearly migration across the border and aware
that the money the miners brought back stimulated Moçambique com-
merce, the colonial government sought to make formal arrangements
with the operators whereby the interests of the province, the mine
owners, and the African would be mutually protected.
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

After 1895 the Chamber of Mines tried to centralize recruiting

of workers and to obtain a monopoly of labor in South Africa. They
were not as successful at home as they were in Moçambique where,
"according to the report of the Rand Native Labour Association,
'the services of every Labour Agent in Portuguese territory whose op-
position was of any moment' were secured at a cost which did not
'materially affect the price of natives landed in these fields.' " 55 With-
in six years the importance of this supply led to a modus vivendi where-
by the Transvaal mining industry was permitted to continue to re-
cruit in Moçambique in return for a guarantee that a percentage of the
Transvaal railway traffic pass through the port of Lourenço Marques.
It is this naked exchange of rail service for human service which has
given offense to so many people.
In 1909 the Transvaal-Moçambique Convention was drawn up.
Subject to revisions, the Convention provided for labor recruitment
privileges in Moçambique in return for the passage of 50 to 55 per
cent of all railway traffic to and from the competitive area (the Jo-
hannesburg, Pretoria, Krugersdorp industrial area) through Louren-
ço Marques. The Convention was valid for ten years, after which it
could be terminated by either party on a year's notice. With the for-
mation of the Union in 1910 the Convention became applicable to its
government. The agreement came to an end in 1923. In 1928 another
convention was negotiated which, with some modifications, has con-
tinued to the present day. Part I fixed the maximum number of Afri-
cans from Moçambique to be employed in the Transvaal mines, stip-
ulated working conditions, and provided that recruitment, allotments,
and repatriation be entrusted to an organization approved by both
governments. Part II dealt with railway traffic and rates, and Part
III with customs matters. Five years later the maximum (80,000) and
minimum (65,000) number of Africans to be recruited each year was
fixed and the railway traffic through Lourenço Marques reduced to
47.5 per cent. No serious adjustments have since been made.56
The recruiting in Moçambique was entrusted exclusively after
1903 to the Witwatersrand Native Labour Association, except for the
period 19 n to 1913 when all Africans from the territory of the Niassa
Consolidated Company were recruited by the company for delivery
on the coast to the WNLA's agents. (After 1913 men from north of
the twenty-second parallel were prohibited from working in the mines
because of a high incidence of tuberculosis and pneumonia among
Africans from tropical zones, thus eliminating Portuguese Niassa as a
source of labor. In the 1930's a number of Africans from north of the
parallel were again permitted to go to the mines.) The W N L A was
 SLAVE TRADE, SLAVERY, AND CONTRACT LABOR 171

responsible f o r the M o ç a m b i q u e w o r k e r f r o m the m o m e n t he signed

the c o n t r a c t w i t h the agent until he w a s returned to his village, al-
t h o u g h the colonial g o v e r n m e n t does have native affairs offices (cura-
dorias) in the U n i o n . W i t h i n the p r o v i n c e the W N L A maintained
f r o m ten to fifteen main receiving stations and o v e r fifty substations
e m p l o y i n g more than t w e n t y - f i v e Europeans and about t w o hundred
and fifty A f r i c a n s . In the years after the B o e r W a r recruiting w a s a f -
f e c t i o n a t e l y k n o w n as " b l a c k b i r d i n g " b y the agents, and one agent has
l e f t an a c c o u n t of h o w the W N L A beat the bushes f o r w o r k e r s . H e
is at pains to contradict the prevalent notion that the chiefs w e r e c o -
erced to order their y o u n g men to the Transvaal, s a y i n g that f o r most
of the y o u n g m e n of Sul do Save g o i n g to the mines w a s life's greatest
experience. 5 7
T h e r e is little doubt, h o w e v e r , that pressures w e r e o f t e n put on the
chief, if n o t b y the agents, then b y Portuguese officials, to p r o c u r e
w o r k e r s , although there has been less indication in recent years that
the W N L A has had to r e l y on a n y t h i n g m o r e than its promises and the
testimonies of men returning f r o m the mines — w i t h their boots and
blankets and phonographs. W o r k i n g conditions in the mines have
improved, and the high mortality rate prevailing in the first decade of
the c e n t u r y , 67.6 per 1,000 (another report states that f r o m 1905 to
1912, 87,000 of 418,000 w o r k e r s , that is, 26 per cent, did not return
f o r one reason or another) has steadily declined. N o longer are East
Coast w o r k e r s permitted to remain t w o and three years in the R a n d
mines. A o n e - y e a r contract, w i t h a possible extension of six months,
is the maximum the A f r i c a n m a y serve b e f o r e repatriation.
F r o m 1904 to the present the T r a n s v a a l mines have taken f r o m
60,000 to 115,000 A f r i c a n s f r o m M o ç a m b i q u e each year, the peak
c o m i n g in 1928-29. F o r fifty years these recruits have been the b a c k -
bone of the mines' labor f o r c e . T h e advantage of the C o n v e n t i o n to
the A f r i c a n has b e e n the o p p o r t u n i t y to w o r k f o r w a g e s higher than
those he w o u l d n o r m a l l y receive in the c o l o n y . T h e m o n o p o l y g i v e n
the W N L A , h o w e v e r , has made it difficult f o r the A f r i c a n f r o m M o -
çambique to enter the U n i o n to w o r k elsewhere, as in the N a t a l sugar
plantations and collieries (in the central part of the p r o v i n c e the
Rhodesian N a t i v e L a b o r B u r e a u has recruited a substantial n u m b e r
of A f r i c a n s each y e a r f o r w o r k on farms and mines of R h o d e s i a ) .
T h e sum o f s e v e n t y - f i v e to one hundred dollars w i t h h e l d until the
A f r i c a n ' s arrival in M o ç a m b i q u e has meant the b e g i n n i n g of e c o n o m i c
security f o r some, although f r e q u e n t l y the m o n e y has been spent on
g a u d y attractions. F o r the mining companies the C o n v e n t i o n guaran-
teed a constant supply of unskilled, inexpensive labor — w h i c h w o u l d
172 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

be used in areas and tasks where voluntary Union workers refused to

serve. For Moçambique the advantages have also been large. In ad-
dition to the emergence of Lourenço Marques into an East African
port of primary importance, the provincial economy has profited from
the Rand wages spent in Moçambique (the withheld salary is paid in
escudos to the returned worker by the government, which receives
these wages in gold) and from the charges the government has estab-
lished, such as f i . 4 0 for a worker's passport, $0.70 for an extension,
and $0.36 a month contract fee.
The controversy over the Rand labor system which went on until
the recent years of the Salazar regime, when debate on such issues
went out of fashion, turned on the single point of whether the province
profited sufficiently from the Convention to make it worthwhile. A
favorite theme in colonial studies was to blame Moçambique's slow
progress on the lack of working hands. It was argued that the utili-
zation of the available labor supply was subordinated to the needs of
another part of Africa and that cultivation of large areas in Moçam-
bique by African farmers consequently suffered. The Moçambique
Company, for example, refused to permit the W N L A to recruit with-
in its territories. It is true that the continuing absence of a large body
of workers was a real loss to the province, but under a native labor
code designed to exploit the African for the benefit of plantations and
governmental projects, the argument that native agriculture suffered
extremely from lack of workers was hardly convincing. Certainly no
one should have been surprised that the young African, faced with
the necessity of satisfying labor laws by contracting his services locally
at an inadequate wage, or being shipped to a plantation a hundred
miles away, should have chosen to go to the mines, adventurous and
profitable. (In this regard, native labor regulations worked to the
definite advantage of the Transvaal.) Others held that many miners
did not come home, preferring to remain in the Union, and that others
frequently returned ill.
For some opponents of the Convention the dignity of work in the
Transvaal did not offer the same civilizing values as did the dignity of
work in Moçambique, for the African came back to his village a va-
grant and full of exaggerated ideas about wages and working condi-
tions. A recent criticism by Professor Antonio Mendes Correla, a
sociologist and leading spokesman on African affairs for the present
Portuguese government, suggests that in addition to the fact that the
energy spent in the Transvaal could more profitably have been spent
in the development of Moçambique, the African brought back customs
and languages not his own, thus making it more difficult to assimilate
 S L A V E TRADE, S L A V E R Y , AND CONTRACT LABOR I 73

him into the Luso-African community. He asks whether it is really

right that the Portuguese Negro should waste his vitality, which
would otherwise have benefited humanity, to dig out gold for the
benefit of a few capitalists.58 But these contentions, which show a
casual disregard for the welfare of the African either at home or across
the border, beg the essential question whether the labor lost would
have been used for the genuine progress of Moçambique, for all of its
inhabitants, not just the municipalities, the estates, and the European
population. The encouragement of free labor and native agriculture
from 1900 to 1928 was negligible. This being the case, the material ad-
vantages gained in Moçambique from the Convention could scarcely
have been less than the theoretical ones which might have resulted
from its cancellation.
In no sense has the recruitment of workers in Moçambique by the
W N L A been the degrading spectacle that was the contract labor
scandal in Angola. There were admittedly many wrongs when the
chief was bribed to deliver a quota of workers and others when
the returning men found that their deferred pay was held back
by colonial officials under various pretexts. More disturbing than these
abuses is the recognition implicit in the terms of the Convention that
Portuguese colonial administrators regarded the African as a com-
modity, no longer to be sold as a slave, but still to be exchanged in the
market of material values. Nor is the Chamber of Mines any less cul-
pable in this regard. The Convention does not provide for the volun-
tary emigration of the worker from Moçambique into the Transvaal;
in fact it seeks to prevent it by a series of controls. Nor, as Mendes
Correia correctly suggests, can the classic proposal that through work
the African is drawn into the Portuguese community be made to apply
here. The Moçambique-South African Convention is an international
projection of contract labor, and as such it is the step-child of a cen-
turies-old policy in Portuguese Africa which, stripped to its essentials,
has regarded the African as a working hand, call him slave, liberto,
contratado, voluntario, or what you will.
 VII

L I V I N G S T O N E AND THE
PORTUGUESE

O N June 28, 1854, this notice appeared in the Boletim of the

Government General of Angola:
There has been submitted to this Government General by the most il-
lustrious Sr. Edmund Gabriel a brief relation of a trip undertaken by the
Reverend David Livingstone through the interior of Africa from the Cape
of Good Hope to Luanda, which we publish as the preliminary of a more
complete ana detailed description which the traveler promises to write
as soon as he has recovered from the discomforts which he suffered . . .
"On the 31st of last month the Reverend David Livingstone, an Eng-
lish missionary, arrived in this city, having left the Cape of Good Hope in
May of 1852 with the object of exploring the interior of this continent,
and at the same time establishing friendly relations with the different
native peoples on the basis of which missionary stations may be in the
future established among them . . .
"In April of this year Mr. Livingstone arrived at Cassange, having en-
countered many difficulties in this part of his trip among the tribes border-
ing Portuguese territory, but as soon as he found himself within the limits
of the province of Angola, these disturbances ceased and he received the
kindest and most generous attentions from Portuguese authorities at every
fortress. He wishes to use this occasion to thank those gentlemen most
sincerely and to express his gratitude for the courtesies and hospitalities
he received from them and for the promptness with which they facilitated
his progress to Luanda.
"Mr. Livingstone has the satisfaction of having been able, in spite of
the deplorable season of the year and the great rain he encountered during
 LIVINGSTONE AND THE PORTUGUESE I 75

his journey, to make various astronomical observations which helped him

determine the exact position of the greater part of the places he visited.
He intends, as soon as his health permits and with the permission of His
Excellency the President of the Provisional Government of the Province,
to publish the observations he made as well as vital information relating
to the commercial activities in the interior, which may be of some interest
to the inhabitants of this province. Loanda, June, 1854." 1

On this amiable note was the first official Portuguese recognition

given to the historic journey. It marks the beginning of an associa-
tion between the first European inhabitants of black A f r i c a and the
most important European in the history of the continent. Unfortu-
nately, it was an association which degenerated from mutual respect
and friendship to painful recriminations.
One of the results of Livingstone's early explorations in central
A f r i c a was to speed the transition of Portuguese A f r i c a from the
past into the present, f o r it was now clear that the great expanse of
land between Angola and Moçambique could no longer be con-
sidered the private, albeit uncharted, domain of the Portuguese crown.
N o longer would Portuguese contacts with her European neighbors
be limited to coastal points and discussions on the slave trade. From
now on, the lands and commerce of the interior would gain increas-
ing importance in Europe's African policies, and Portugal, stirred b y
Livingstone's travels, sought with belated urgency to prepare to meet
the inevitable challenge to her position in that part of the continent.
T h e significance of Livingstone does not ultimately rest on his
travels, although his expeditions and geographic contributions were of
primary importance. African explorers before and after him made
equivalent geographical discoveries. Stanley was his equal, if not his
master, in opening up central A f r i c a to the eyes of the world; he had
as well the distinction of contributing to the formation of Africa's
largest private estate. But Stanley's exploits will always be a reflection
of the achievements of Livingstone, and in the final analysis, the
English-American remains a journalist who made a success out of
exploration. T h e example of Livingstone is the example of faith and
morality. T h e heroic solitary figure, fiercely determined and inde-
pendent, yet humble and even gentle, best represents the positive as-
pirations of nineteenth-century Europe f o r A f r i c a and of the English
humanitarian tradition. If in the course of his experiences in Africa
his hopes f o r the evangelization of the native population seem to have
succumbed to fantasies for penetrating the secrets of the Nile's origin,
Livingstone never yielded in his grim struggle against the slave trade
and those who supported it. His dreams f o r a legitimate commerce
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

which would replace this traffic in humanity and teach the African to
develop his own resources did not fade. He could not foresee the
ruthless exploitation of the African which ensued in many areas of
central Africa which he opened to the world and in this regard, per-
haps, his trust in European civilization was mistaken.
For ten years before he set off from the lands of the Makololo on
the first of his historic journeys, Livingstone had prospected for mis-
sion stations in the Transvaal and Bechuanaland, pushing his w a y as
far north as Linyanti, some one hundred and fifty miles west of Vic-
toria Falls. It is apparent that as he went deeper into the interior,
further from Moffat's station at Kuruman, the unexplored mass of
south-central Africa, literally the great unknown, began to have a
magnetic attraction on Livingstone's imagination. In the north, in
Sebetuane's country, he came in contact with the Arab slave trade,
which set his resolve more firmly to open up Africa to missionary
settlement and legitimate commerce. In 1852 his decision was made.
"I will go no matter who opposes." One year later, in November,
Livingstone set out from Linyanti with twenty-seven Makololo por-
ters. Following the upper Zambezi northward, he passed through
Barotseland to Lake Dilolo, where he turned toward the sea through
the hinterland of Angola.
Livingstone's goal was Luanda. A t the start of his travels he wrote
that "St. Philip de Benguela was much nearer to us than Loanda . . .
but it is so undesirable to travel in a path once trodden by slave traders
that I preferred to find another line of march." 2 This is one of the
earliest references to slaving, one of the issues which later destroyed
the friendship between the Portuguese and the missionary. Several
months before, in the middle of 1853, while exploring Barotseland,
Livingstone had met the Angolan trader Silva Porto who was trading
in slaves and ivory. Earlier in the year Silva Porto had accepted the
request of the Angolan government to make an overland journey
from Angola to Moçambique but because of the turbulent state of
the interior and illness Silva Porto had abandoned the project, al-
though several of his African bearers did make their way to the coast
of Moçambique. Livingstone wrongly regarded Silva Porto as a
mulatto (this is one of Livingstone's common misconceptions of the
Portuguese resident in Africa; it was almost willful, one suspects, on
Livingstone's part to refuse to believe that any white men before
him had penetrated this part of Africa) and seems to have considered
him primarily as an ivory trader who was a possible rival for the
honors of prior exploration, another issue on which Livingstone and
the Portuguese were to part company. Silva Porto offered to take
 LIVINGSTONE AND T H E PORTUGUESE I 77

Livingstone with him to Bié and in his account of the singular meet-
ing, he characterizes the Englishman as an inquisitive, somewhat
quarrelsome intruder.3
Livingstone's impressions of the country west of the Cuango River
reveal his preoccupation with the subjects of slavery and priority.
He found that the African in this region was regularly visited by slave
traders, although he concludes that "there cannot have been much in-
tercourse between real Portuguese and these people even here, so
close to the Quango, for Sansawe asked me to show him my hair on
the ground that, though he had heard of it, and some white men had
even passed through his country, he had never seen straight hair be-
fore." 4 Livingstone's possessive pride on being the first European ex-
plorer through central Africa is more pronounced on his return to the
Cuango from Luanda bound for the east coast. He refers to the native
traders, pombeiros of Cassange, noting that "two of these, called in
the history of Angola 'the trading blacks' (os funantes pretos), Pedro
Joâo Baptista and Antonio José, having been sent by the first Portu-
guese trader living at Cassange, actually returned from some of the
Portuguese possessions in the East with letters from the governor of
Mozambique in the year 1815, proving, as is remarked, 'the possibility
of so important a communication between Mozambique and Loanda.'
This is the only instance of native Portuguese subjects crossing the
continent. N o European ever accomplished it, though the fact has
lately been quoted as if the men had been Portuguese."5
But neither Livingstone's inherent sense of English superiority nor
his distress, not yet articulated into the ringing denouncements of
later years, over the slave trade in the interior restrained his gratitude
to Portuguese officials and travelers, white or half-caste, who helped
him in Angola. Ill with dysentery and fever, he was welcomed with
the generosity and kindness which have made the tradition of Portu-
guese hospitality renowned throughout Africa. In the area of Lunda a
young sergeant, Cipriano de Abreu, stripped his garden to nurse the
sick traveler to health. In Cassange he was received with elaborate
attentions and on his departure given letters of recommendation to
the inhabitants of Luanda that they take him into their houses. "May
God remember them," Livingstone wrote, "in their hour of need."
In Luanda where the residents had little cause to extend a welcome to
a man whose sympathies on slavery ran so counter to their own and
whose nation was in part responsible for the decline of the city's
fortunes, Livingstone was accepted with equal warmth. The governor
offered the services of his medical officer and every facility at his dis-
posal. Of his journey eastward through Angola, Livingstone wrote
i78 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

his wife that "though I speak freely about the Slave Trade, the very
gentlemen who have been engaged in it, and have been prevented by
the ships from following it, and often lost much, treated me most
kindly in their houses, and often accompanied me to the next place
beyond them, bringing food for all in the way." 6
Of Portuguese success in getting along with the African Living-
stone was also commendatory. "Some of the governors of Loanda . . .
have insisted on the observance of a law which, from motives of hu-
manity, forbids the Portuguese themselves from passing beyond the
boundary. They seem to have taken it for granted, that, in cases where
the white trader was killed, the aggression had been made by him. . .
This indicates a much greater impartiality than has obtained in our
own dealing with the Caffres, for we have engaged in the most ex-
pensive wars with them without once inquiring whether any of the
fault lay with our frontier colonists." 7 Nor was Livingstone disturbed
by the lack of color bar. "None of these gentlemen had Portuguese
wives. . . It is common for them to have families by native women.
It was particularly gratifying to me, who had been familiar with the
stupid prejudice against colour entertained only by those who are
themselves becoming tawny, to view the liberality with which people
of colour were treated by the Portuguese. Instances, so common in the
south, in which half-caste children are abandoned, are here extremely
rare. . . The coloured clerks of the merchants sit at the same table
with their employers, without any embarrassment. . . Nowhere else
in Africa is there so much goodwill between Europeans and natives
as here." 8
For the iniquities of slavery, Livingstone had only mild rebuke for
his hosts in Angola ("The Portuguese do not seem at all bigoted in
their attachment to slavery"). His Makololo porters, possibly more
sensitive than Livingstone to the extent of the trade in the province,
were reluctant to enter Angola, fearing that they would be fettered
and sold. Of his conversations with Commissioner Gabriel, the ex-
plorer was pleased to report: "The Portuguese home Government has
not generally received the credit for sincerity in suppressing the slave-
trade which I conceive to be its due." 9 At the same time he was aware
that the legislation of humanitarian statesmen in Lisbon could not pre-
vail against the economic interests of the trade or the actions of
colonial servants whose wretched salaries forced them into the still
profitable traffic. It was only after he had seen the cancerous condi-
tions of the Arab trade in East Africa that Livingstone's charity toward
the Portuguese disappeared.
Livingstone was less impressed with the spiritual and material de-
 LIVINGSTONE AND THE PORTUGUESE I 79

velopment of the colony. Although he extolled the good influence of

the Bishop of Luanda, he found little evidence of missionary presence
in the interior and decided that what "this fine field" needed was a
f e w Protestants. That the Christians he encountered had no notion
of the Bible grieved him, but he concluded that it was better for the
Africans to be "good Roman Catholics than idolatrous heathen."
Traces of the Jesuits and Capuchins — he attributes to them the im-
portation of coffee plants, yams, and various fruits trees — remained
in Ambaca, where the early missionaries had so instilled the desire for
literacy in the Africans that long after the priests' departure, the
natives passed on from generation to generation their knowledge of
reading and writing. Everyone spoke well of the Jesuits, Livingstone
concluded.
T h e physical decline of the province had kept pace with the spirit-
ual decline. Livingstone found Luanda a considerable city, but de-
caying, and many of its public buildings in disrepair or abandoned. 10
The capital was considered a penal settlement, but, he comments, a
remarkably well behaved one where every night the bulk of the city's
arms were in the hands of men who had once been convicts. Massan-
gano he found in a ruined state. Sousa Coutinho's iron foundry was
abandoned; there were neither priests nor teachers in the town.
T h e agricultural and commercial possibilities of Angola seemed
abundant. A t Cazengo Livingstone visited several flourishing coffee
plantations. Sugar cane, cotton, and corn prospered so readily that
they seemed "a providential invitation to forsake the slave trade."
The merchants at Cassange and points in the interior struck him as
being prosperous and eager to extend their trade southeastward into
Makolololand. Portuguese merchants generally looked to foreign en-
terprise, "but as I always stated to them when conversing on the sub-
ject, foreign capitalists would never run the risk, unless they saw the
Angolese doing something for themselves, and the laws so altered that
the subjects of other nations should enjoy the same privileges in the
country with themselves." 1 1 With rare exceptions Livingstone saw
little being done to develop the country, residents and government
officers being disinclined to do more than pursue their own small
projects. L a w f u l commerce had increased since the abolition of the
slave trade, but had the province "been in the possession of England,
it would have been yielding as much or more of the raw material for
the manufacturers as an equal extent of territory in the cotton-
growing States of America." 1 2
On September 10, 1854, Livingstone took leave of his friends in
Luanda. He had been tempted to return home on one of the British
I 80 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

ships of the Mixed Commission, but mindful of his promise to the

Makololo and certain that the approach to central Africa from the
west coast was impractical, he felt obliged to turn eastward in an
attempt to find entry from the Indian Ocean. He declined the com-
pany of the learned botanist Friedrich Welwitsch, finding him of
irritable temperament — and indecisive on the slavery question. The
return journey to Linyanti, lasting exactly a year, was more tortuous
than the expedition to Luanda. After a two-month rest there, Living-
stone began his trek eastward along the Zambezi. After the discovery
of Victoria Falls, he left the river to cross the Batoka plateau, picking
up the Zambezi again a hundred miles above Zumbo. He arrived at
Tete on March 3, 1856. On May 20 he reached Quelimane, where he
waited six tiresome weeks for an English ship. In December he was in
England.
The contributions of the Portuguese to his progress in East Africa
were as unstinting as they had been in Angola. Nor did Livingstone
withhold his praise. "I ought to speak well for ever of Portuguese
hospitality. I have noted each little act of civility received, because
somehow or the other we have come to hold the Portuguese charac-
ter in rather a low estimation. This may have arisen partly from the
pertinacity with which some of them have pursued the slave trade,
and partly from the contrast they now offer with their illustrious an-
cestors — the foremost navigators of the world." 1 3 At Tete and Queli-
mane, a warm friendship developed between the Englishman and the
Portuguese commandants. Major Tito Sicard at Tete gave the Mako-
lolo porters land to plant their crops, fresh clothing, and permission
to join his own servants in elephant hunts, refusing all recompense.
He subsequently wrote Livingstone in London to tell him that the
Makololo had killed four elephants. Colonel Nunes at Quelimane
did all in his power to restore Livingstone's health.
Nevertheless it is on the Zambezi that Livingstone's disenchant-
ment with the Portuguese becomes noticeable. The friendly candor
of his remarks on Angola now turns waspish in the Missionary Travels.
In part this is the result of the man's exhaustion, in part the decadent
state of Zambézia, and in larger part, perhaps, the natural impatience
of an English imperialist ("It is on the Anglo-American race that
the hopes of the world for liberty and progress rest") that the mighty
waterway, which would later be as much of a disappointment to Liv-
ingstone as it had been to the Portuguese, had not been used by the
Portuguese to pursue lawful commerce in the interior. The neglect
at Sena and Tete evoked the comments usually made in this period
by travelers up the Zambezi — ruin, immorality, and the failure of
 L I V I N G S T O N E AND T H E P O R T U G U E S E I8 I

authority to suppress the lawlessness of the Goan prazeros. He could

not see, as he had in Angola, the beginning of a transition from a
slave economy to the orderly development of the colony's resources.
The slave trade had rendered commerce stagnant, and the revenue
from the colony was not sufficient to meet expenses. The quantities
of grain, gold dust, and ivory previously exported had vanished, for
the Portuguese had found it more profitable to sell the slaves which
produced these commodities. No vestige of missionary influence ex-
isted among the inhabitants of Zambézia. All was desolation. The
panacea, of course, was free trade and free labor — to which the
Portuguese were as receptive as was Livingstone to the slave trade.
"All the traders have been in the hands of slaves and have wanted
that moral courage which a free man, with free servants on whom he
can depend, usually possesses. . . If the Portuguese really wish to
develop the rich country beyond their possessions [italics mine], they
ought to invite the co-operation of other nations on equal terms with
themselves. Let the pathway into the interior be free to all; and in-
stead of wretched forts, with scarcely an acre of land around them
which can be called their own, let real colonies be made. If, instead
of military establishments, we had civil ones, and saw emigrants going
out with their wives, ploughs, and seeds, rather than military convicts
with bugles and kettle-drums, one might hope for a return of prosper-
ity to Eastern Africa." 14 Livingstone's easy tolerance toward the
Portuguese was clearly changing into impatience.
In England Livingstone was honored and acclaimed as a national
hero. The image of the lonely missionary doctor penetrating the dark
heart of the continent stirred the imagination of his countrymen.
When he spoke of colonization and settlement in the highlands beyond
the lower Zambezi, when he spoke of the necessity for English action
in central Africa, he was respectfully heeded. Without being aware
of it, perhaps, he became the spokesman — and the conscience — for
imperial designs in the lands he had explored. As a result of Living-
stone's eloquence, although he did not propose it and was even re-
luctant to take charge of it, the Zambezi Expedition was hastily formed
by the British government. The expedition was to consist of seven
European technicians who, under Livingstone's direction, were to
proceed beyond Tete, establish a central depot at the confluence of
the Zambezi and the Kafue, and to explore toward the source of the
Zambezi and the rivers flowing into it.15 In its goal to find a water
route to the upper Zambezi the expedition was a manifest failure
(although it had a negative value in revealing the obstacles to be over-
come in any program of settling the area), but the exploration of the
i82 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

Shire River to the Shire highlands and Lake Nyasa had permanent
effect in opening up this part of Africa to European penetration.
Portuguese acceptance of the expedition was indispensable, and
Lord Clarendon early began to deal with the Portuguese minister.
The background for negotiations was not good. Since his return to
England, Livingstone had been speaking loudly about the African
slave trade to a large and indignant audience. It was quite possible
that an outraged English public, disregarding the hopeful antislavery
decrees from Lisbon, might have its attention drawn to East Africa
with fateful consequences for Portuguese sovereignty. As Professor
Coupland has pointed out, "Portuguese ministers need not have been
very conscience-stricken nor very faint-hearted to dread the passion-
ate philanthropy of Britain, once it was on fire — they had felt its
heat before — nor need they have been over-cynical to suspect that
British philanthropy might be more fierce and predatory than it had
ever been if it were now united with British commercial and colonial
schemes and interests." 16 Livingstone's memorandum to the Portu-
guese government describing the expedition was not encouraging.
He bluntly reaffirmed what he had written in the Missionary Travels:
the scourge of East Africa was the slave trade; its suppression would
best come through free trade and navigation; Portugal and Britain
should act together.
So the Portuguese government was coolly receptive to the pro-
posals for an expedition up the Zambezi. It was aware that Portugal
maintained a theoretical jurisdiction over many parts of the continent
Livingstone intended to explore, but how these claims would stand
up against British demands egged on by an agitated public opinion
was uncertain. But the Luso-British alliance was an old one and on
it would probably rest the ultimate hopes for Portugal's position in
Africa. In the end Lisbon yielded gracefully and promised to give
the expedition all possible help in East Africa. On freedom of navi-
gation up the Zambezi, Portugal balked and agreed to accept Living-
stone as consul only at Quelimane, where foreign trade was already
established, not at Sena and Tete, "which were not yet ready for
foreign commerce." Anticipating on the basis of Livingstone's scorn-
ful description of its sovereignty along the river that frontier prob-
lems might arise from the expedition's passage, the Portuguese gov-
ernment in a decree of February 4, 1858, declared that Zambézia in-
cluded all the territories traditionally held b y the Portuguese in the
Zambezi valley from the mouth of the river to beyond the fortress
at Zumbo. Although just how far beyond Zumbo Portuguese territory
extended was not specified, Livingstone and the English government
 LIVINGSTONE AND T H E PORTUGUESE I 83

were pleased at such modest claims, which approximated Livingstone's

estimate of their occupation. Early March 1858, when the expedition
left England, found Livingstone and Clarendon optimistic over the
tenor of recent communications from Lisbon.
If the First Zambezi Expedition failed to achieve its immediate
goals and fragmented into the well-known disappointments and re-
sentments, the fault did not lie with the Portuguese government in
Lisbon or its colonial officers in Moçambique. When repeated frus-
trations wore English tempers to the breaking point the blame was
sometimes shunted to the Portuguese, but in 1858 and 1859 their atti-
tude was courteous and correct, if not directly helpful. The same
deadly conditions which had for centuries thwarted Portuguese en-
terprise on the Zambezi — heat, fever, native wars — also helped make
the success of the English expedition impossible. There were other
reasons: Livingstone's shyness and independent spirit kept him from
assuming effective leadership over the group; the inefficiency of the
steamer Ma-Robert and the difficulties of navigation on the Zambezi
and the Shire; and the tensions which soon developed between various
members of the party. Only when he shook himself free from the re-
sponsibilities of the expedition and reverted to the pioneering habits
of his first journey did the genius of Livingstone reassert itself. The
collapse of the first Universities' Mission — which had its inspiration
in Livingstone's famous speeches at Oxford and Cambridge — arriv-
ing on the river in 1861 and the death of Mrs. Livingstone the fol-
lowing year made this the most heartsick period of Livingstone's life.
In 1863 the remnants of the expedition, including the faithful John
Kirk, sailed from Quelimane, with Livingstone to follow the next
year.
It is not surprising, therefore, that the Narrative of an Expedition
to the Zambezi, written by Livingstone in England in 1864-65, should
have been tinged with bitterness "which is likely to affect his judg-
ment. Where in his earlier book, a difficulty or threat was the
will of God, it now became a plot by man against his purpose." 17
Nor is it surprising that this bitterness should have turned against
the Portuguese, whose disinterested kindness Livingstone had once
vowed never to forget. Unwilling to admit that part of the fault
for the expedition's frustrations proceeded from circumstances and
conditions which had long since beset the Portuguese-—and pro-
duced the state of affairs on the Zambezi which was an open chal-
lenge to Protestant humanitarianism and imperialistic zeal — Living-
stone turned against his former friends and protectors. Thus in the
Narrative the English become more English (practical, dedicated,
184 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

humane) and the Portuguese more Portuguese (slovenly, selfish, in-

humane). "We could see plainly that we and our Portuguese friends
had different ranges of vision. W e looked for the large result of bene-
fit to all, both black and white, by establishing free commercial inter-
course. They could see nothing beyond inducing English merchants
to establish a company, of which the Portuguese would, by fictitious
claims, reap all the benefits." 18 This is an English attitude toward the
Portuguese which had been taking shape for fifty years and here
received a definition which was to influence English action toward
the Portuguese for another fifty.
Livingstone's running quarrel with the Portuguese took several
directions. He was most sensitive to the apparent attempt in Portugal
to discredit his geographical contributions. He took particular um-
brage with José de Lacerda who had made it his task to prove that
much of the Africa explored by Livingstone had been previously
visited by Portuguese travelers. Most of these claims Livingstone dis-
missed contemptuously. "A vague rumor, cited by some old author,
about two marshes below Murchison's Cataracts, is considered con-
clusive evidence that the ancient inhabitants of Senna . . . found no
difficulty in navigating the Shire up to Lake Nyassa. . ." 1 9 The
polemic, which is still carried on in idle moments by Portuguese
geographers, was then more serious than an academic dispute. Un-
questionably Livingstone's vanity was wounded more than he chose to
admit by Portuguese attacks, which accounts for the sharp tone of
his response. But Livingstone perceived that Portuguese protestations
of priority were meant to bolster their "pretense to power," and he
in turn lost few opportunities to deprecate their influence in Mo-
çambique. "The Portuguese pretense to dominion is the curse of the
negro race on the East Coast of Africa." 20 At Zumbo he found deso-
lation brooding; up and down the river only crumbling remains at-
tested to the Portuguese passing. These were years of famine and
wars with the prazero Mariano, both being to Livingstone manifesta-
tions of Portuguese failure. Only by paying tribute to the tribes on
the right bank of the Zambezi did the merchants at Sena and Chu-
panga keep a semblance of the peace. Elaborate plans from Lisbon for
the regeneration of the region came to nothing when the only colo-
nists were convicts. Indeed, as long as they pursue their present mad-
ness, Livingstone concludes, there is no help for them.
The madness was slavery. Livingstone was shocked by signs of
the traffic in Africans on all sides. Mariano he describes as a bully,
renegade, and slave trader. "The Portuguese at Tette, from the gov-
ernor downward, are extensively engaged in slaving." The women
 LIVINGSTONE AND T H E PORTUGUESE I 85

were sent to the interior to be traded for ivory and the men sold to
the French as émigrés.21 Quelimane existed only as a slave port. One
of the results of Livingstone's penetration up the Shire valley was to
make available a new supply of slaves; earlier, in i860, he wrote of
his journey to the upper Zambezi: " W e were now . . . fully con-
vinced that, in opening the country through which no Portuguese
durst previously pass, we were made the unwilling instruments of ex-
tending the slave trade. . . It was with bitter sorrow that we saw the
good we would have done turned to evil." 22 Taking more vigorous
action while conducting Bishop Mackenzie up the Shire, Livingstone
and his company set free a gang of slaves, even though such inter-
ference could have proved prejudicial to the mission's passage through
Portuguese territory. The explorer made remonstrances to Lisbon
that the traders were dogging his steps, but unsatisfied with the re-
sponse he wrote, " W e regret to have to make this statement; but it
was a monstrous mistake to believe in the honor of the government of
Portugal, or their having a vestige of desire to promote the ameliora-
tion of Africa. One ought to hope the best of everyone, giving, if
possible, credit for good intentions; but though deeply sensible of
obligations to individuals of the nation, and anxious to renew the
expressions of respect formerly used, we must declare the conduct of
Portuguese statesmen to be simply infamous." 23
Simultaneously the idea grew among members of the expedition
that the Portuguese were guilty of double-dealing by issuing splendid
public instructions for officials in Moçambique to give the English
visitors all assistance and sending private instructions to thwart them
at every turn. In view of Livingstone's denunciations against condi-
tions in East Africa and the possessive gestures he seemed to be making
toward territory nominally Portuguese, there may have been some
truth in the English accusation. Secret instructions were not needed
in Moçambique, however, and most of the obstacles Livingstone en-
countered were almost certainly thrown up spontaneously or were
the result of local inertia. The Portuguese government was adamant
on the matters of trade and political dealings with native chiefs, but
their position in these matters was known by Livingstone before his
departure from England and represented no change from traditional
policies. In his reports to the Foreign Office Consul Livingstone made
clear his suspicions, complained of open slavery, and urged that free
trade be pressed on the Portuguese government, since the area could
not be properly called a developed colony. The substance of his
reports was sent to Lisbon with further pleas for the Portuguese to
co-operate with Livingstone. Lisbon issued new decrees ordering
ι 86 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

such co-operation. More the British government could not do. The
close relationship of the Prince Consort to the Portuguese royal family
and England's embarrassing performance in the Charles et George
controversy, mentioned earlier, precluded stronger backing for Liv-
ingstone.
The lack of forceful action by the Foreign Office and the decision
of the British government to postpone any program of colonization
in central Africa doomed Livingstone's aspirations for the area's sal-
vation from the slave trade. In the last almost savage pages of the
Narrative Livingstone was writing out of a six-year store of frustra-
tions, going beyond the offices of diplomats to the public of England
and America. The work in Africa must go on.
W e ask with what face can the Portuguese shut some 900 miles of the
East Coast from these civilizing and humanizing influences? Looking at
the lawful trade which has been developed in one section of Africa, is it to
be endured b y the rest of the world that most of a continent so rich and
fertile should be doomed to worse than sterility till the Spaniards and
Portuguese learn to abandon their murderous traffic in men? When these
effete nations speak of their famous ancestors, they tacitly admit that the
same sort of mental stagnation has fallen on themselves as on the Africans
and others . . . England would perform a noble service to Portugal by
ignoring those pretenses to dominion on the East Coast by which, for the
sake of mere swagger in Europe, she secures for herself the worst name
in Christendom . . . Here, on the East Coast, not a single native has been
taught to read, not one branch of trade has been developed; and wherever
Portuguese power, or rather intrigue, extends, we have that traffic in full
force which may be said to reverse every law of Christ and to d e f y the
vengeance of Heaven. 24

In the last years of his adventures in Africa, Livingstone had little

contact with the Portuguese, since his explorations carried him for
the most part north of the Rovuma River. He continued to condemn
their practices of slavery and to defend the originality of his travels
in central Africa against the claims advanced on behalf of earlier
Portuguese travelers, but his humanitarian energies were now directed
against the Arab slave trade from Zanzibar. He had brought the
world's attention to East Africa. The Portuguese had discovered to
their dismay that Livingstone the explorer could not be separated from
the whole man. They had sanctioned the First Zambezi Expedition in
the interests of science and had attempted to restrict its activities to
this pursuit alone by decrees, tariffs, and fortifications,25 but the phil-
anthropic and imperialistic character of its leader refused to be con-
 LIVINGSTONE AND THE PORTUGUESE I 87

tained, and Portuguese Africa was swiftly drawn, protesting and

ill-prepared, into the realities of modern colonialism.

As in his way David Livingstone represented a particular attitude

toward Portuguese enterprise in Africa which characterizes still an
English view, so the response to Livingstone by Dr. José de Lacerda,
a name now found only in the margins of Africa's history, was in its
way a classic model by which defenders of Portugal's role in Angola
and Moçambique seem still to be influenced. Exame das viagens do
Doutor Livingstone, which appeared in 1867, is an angry, dignified,
and dense reply to Missionary Travels and Narrative of an Expedi-
tion·. its anger proceeds from an injured national pride; its dignity
from a sureness in one's cause; and its density from a three hundred
years' accumulation of detail. The Exame, there can be no doubt,
is sentimentally and politically Portugal's official answer to Living-
stone's claims and accusations. Replete with ancient maps and lengthy
quotations, it is a synthesis of Portuguese activities in interior Africa,
an effective and scholarly legal brief which did not fail to convince
the Portuguese, at least, of the Tightness of their case.
Although implicit in the Exame is Lacerda's suspicion that Liv-
ingstone was essentially interested in doing Portugal out of trade and
territory in a part of Africa rightfully hers, he nevertheless meets the
issues squarely. The main points of his six-hundred-page work — im-
possible to summarize satisfactorily — are these: on the matter of
priority of exploration in central Africa, Lacerda produces extended
documentation to prove that the areas visited by Livingstone had been
penetrated or mentioned by Portuguese subjects. Barotseland and
Makolololand were familiar territory for ivory and slave merchants
who, though they surely knew the cataract Mosivatunya ("which
Livingstone ostentatiously baptized as Victoria Falls"), were not pri-
marily natural historians, for which reason the falls remained unpub-
licized. With regard to the crossing of the continent, Lacerda not only
defends the pombeiros as Portuguese citizens, but suggests several other
transcontinental journeys. The lands of Cazembe were reconnoitered
by Francisco de Lacerda e Almeida in 1798 and again fifty-odd years
later by Major Gamitto. The Shire highlands and the lands around
Lake Nyasa were also the scenes of Portuguese penetration; if they
remained unsettled, it was because the Portuguese were content to
exploit their interests on the Zambezi.
T o Livingstone's contention that Portugal had done nothing for
I 88 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

the African, Lacerda cites the Jesuit and Dominican history in An-
gola and Moçambique and sarcastically asks what the Protestants had
accomplished. "Protestant missionaries may perhaps be expert in his-
tory, mineralogy, geographical sciences . . . and to those who pay
them they render more valuable services as explorers for industry or
commerce than they do as truly sincere apostles for the Gospel and
humanity, but what is the final result?" 26 He views Livingstone's
repeated expressions of gratitude for Portuguese hospitality as an at-
tempt to cleanse his conscience for committing subsequent intolerable
offenses against his hosts. T o prove that Moçambique had been
throughout her history a productive center of Portuguese commerce,
Lacerda arrays impressive statistics, including a contemporary census
of the colony. He upbraids Livingstone for using a scientific expedi-
tion as a guise to suborn native chiefs loyal to Portugal for purposes
of English exploitation. He questions Livingstone's antislavery senti-
ments, observing that the missionary was more concerned with alleged
slaving by the Portuguese than he was with slave trading by the
Africans themselves or with slavery at the Cape. If, in spite of Lis-
bon's stringent decrees against the traffic, it was still carried on in
Portuguese Africa, such was the reality of African life, and Portu-
guese prazeros and traders were only conforming with the necessities
of this reality. And, as Livingstone himself had admitted, no Euro-
pean people had better relations with the African 27 (although Lacerda
is not concerned to any great extent with native policy as such, some
of his remarks in this regard are significant as being the first specific
elaborations of a Portuguese native policy). Such, broadly stated, are
the points made in the Exame das viagens. Although Lacerda could
not command the audience that Livingstone had, engaged as he was
in debate with one of the most famous men of his age, his work is
worthy of serious consideration by scholars and geographers.

Of all the discoveries and explorations alleged by Livingstone the

one most hotly contested by Lacerda and his countrymen was the
crossing of Africa. The travessia had been a goal of Portuguese policy
in Africa since the days of Manuel and his hopes for an overland con-
tact between the Congo Kingdom and the lands of Prester John. Re-
peated efforts had been unsuccessful; the result was that by the years
when Livingstone went from Luanda to Quelimane the transconti-
nental journey had become as much a point of Portuguese pride as a
matter of commercial expediency. There was the trip made by the
two pombeiros, Amaro José and Joäo Baptista, but in a candid
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 LIVINGSTONE AND THE PORTUGUESE I 89

moment the Portuguese would admit to dissatisfaction in having to

use the pombeiros' trip to substantiate their claims of priority. T h e y
hungered for something more authentically Lusitanian, and in lieu
of fact, they relied on rumor and project. T h e rumors were little
more than unsubstantiated bits of gossip, but since they appeared in
authoritative works they contributed to the legend. In his Coloquios
dos simples e drogas da India (Goa, 1563), the humanist Garcia da
Orta refers to a secular priest who went from West Africa to India,
passing through Sofala and Moçambique town, without using the sea
route. Later in the century Joâo dos Santos affirmed that there was
direct communication between Sofala and Angola, for he had seen
in Sofala a blanket come overland from Angola. 28 Projected crossings
of the continent were easier to document. There was the expedition of
Baltasar Rebelo de Aragäo in the first decade of the seventeenth cen-
tury. T h e Jesuit Antonio Machado revived the Manueline ideal of a
Congo-Ethiopia route in 1627. Salvador de Sá is reputed to have
offered to link the realms of Angola with those of the Monomotapa.
A t the end of the century, Governor Aires de Saldanha sent off the
frontiersman José da Rosa from Massangano, but he was refused pas-
sage through the lands of several sobas and returned. Among the
thousand schemes entertained by Sousa Coutinho for the rejuvena-
tion of Angola was a land contact with Moçambique, and with char-
acteristic planning he began to collect information on the direction of
the Cuango and Cunene rivers. Governor Francisco de Lacerda's ex-
pedition up the Zambezi at the end of the century was yet another
serious endeavor, this time from the east coast. In back of all the at-
tempts and failures were several misconceptions which were only
cleared up in the nineteenth century. There was, first, the conviction
that the continent was narrower than it is, one of the common guesses
being that from Caconda to Tete was only a matter of some 300 to
450 leagues. The second erroneous belief was that the Zambezi was
linked, either directly or by other river systems, with the Cunene and
even the Cuanza. Finally, it was held, on the basis of Duarte Lopes's
sixteenth-century account, that a great central lake giving rise to the
principal rivers of Africa lay in the hinterland between Angola and
Moçambique.

With the atrophy of Portuguese prestige in Africa by 1850 it was

difficult for Livingstone to know the extent of historical penetration
into the interior. Impatient with ancient maps, inaccurate for his pur-
poses, and accounts hard to follow, Livingstone had respect for only
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

a f e w Lusitanian explorers, chief among them being Francisco de

Lacerda. T h e administrative limits of Portuguese Africa had been
established for centuries by the line of forts through the interior of
Angola and by the Zambezi penetration, but what of the traders and
freebooters and campaigners who went beyond the fortresses to reside
at the kraal of a distant chief, sometimes to return and sometimes not?
Livingstone had met Silva Porto in mid-Africa, dismissed him as a
half-caste, and gone on his way confident that he remained the Euro-
pean pioneer. It is certain that individual Portuguese traveled beyond
the Cuango in northern Angola and in the south ranged well up-
country from Caconda into Bié. In addition to the well-known trip
of Gaspar Bocarro who went from Tete through a part of the Shire
highlands, possibly skirting Lake Nyasa, before he reached the Ro-
vuma and went down to the sea — the most extensive Portuguese
journey in Moçambique north of the Zambezi — an almost forgotten
captain at Tete, Sisnado Dias Bayäo, led an expedition in 1643-44
into Matabeleland to a point deeper in Africa than any reached from
Moçambique until the nineteenth century. 29 In terms of occupation
the Portuguese had a short-lived mission station in the seventeenth
century at Dambarare, some leagues up the Zambezi from Zumbo. In
1827, in the lands of Chief Cazembe, the Portuguese briefly occupied
and garrisoned a town in what is presently the East Luangwa district
of Northern Rhodesia. 30 Each is an isolated instance, for the Portu-
guese, like Livingstone, were at their best in acts of individual explora-
tion, and together they made up a pitifully weak argument to meet the
test of occupation (but, at that, stronger than the case of nonoccupa-
tion on which was founded the International Association of the
Congo). Nevertheless, these scattered examples, and others like them,
betray a greater activity in the interior than the improvident condition
of the colonies indicated in the 1850's.
T h e unhappy 1798 expedition of Dr. Francisco José de Lacerda
e Almeida was, in terms of scientific interest, the most important of
the pre-Livingstone journeys made b y the Portuguese. Lacerda was a
kindred spirit to Livingstone. A n antislavery advocate, he believed
that through promoting trade and commerce, ignorance and cruelty
could be dispelled and the material prosperity of the barbarous races
advanced. T h e explorer, he felt, could do more than the conqueror.
Lacerda was also a remarkable visionary. Alarmed by the British
seizure of Cape T o w n in 1795, he addressed a letter from Tete to the
Lisbon government, pointing out that this action could be the begin-
ning of a great British empire in South Africa which would sweep
northwards across the Zambezi splitting the twin Portuguese colonies
 LIVINGSTONE AND T H E PORTUGUESE 191

forever. It behooved Portugal to fill the vacuum by extending her

authority westward from Zambézia into Angola. Such a move would
provide more protection for the Portuguese trading the interior, open
an immense new area to commerce, and increase the speed of com-
munication from Portugal to Lisbon. His proposals came to the atten-
tion of the son of another visionary, Rodrigo de Sousa Coutinho, in
charge of the colonial office, who saw to it that Lacerda was named
governor of the Rivers of Sena and authorized to undertake his ex-
pedition from Moçambique to Luanda.
Lacerda's expedition of perhaps twenty Portuguese and mulattoes,
half a hundred African soldiers, and a number of porters made its way
northwest from Tete toward the kraal of the great chief Cazembe,
with whom Goan traders had dealt previously. Lacerda hoped to find
the headwaters of the Cunene, or its tributaries, and thus establish an
easy river route from the eastern colony to the western one. Both the
Chambezi and the Luangwa were partially explored by Lacerda's
men as he worked his way toward Lake Mweru. Desertions by Afri-
can porters, dissensions among the Europeans, and the intrigues of
Cazembe had slowed the expedition to an inching progress by the
time the kraal was reached. Here Lacerda died from fever and ex-
haustion. A priest accompanying Lacerda, Father Pinto, was unable
to reorganize the dissolving company, which returned to Tete in
April 1799. Lacerda's legacy was a map of the area between Lake
Mweru and Tete and a Diario of the journey's difficulties and dis-
appointments. Richard Burton, one of the few English detractors of
Livingstone, ranks Lacerda as one of Africa's great explorers.31 La-
cerda's greatest contribution to Portugal came sixty years later when
his trip furnished abundant ammunition to defenders of Portugal's
priority in central Africa.
The lands of Cazembe, roughly the territory between Lake Mweru
and Lake Bangweulu, figured prominently in two more Portuguese
expeditions in the first third of the nineteenth century. The first was
the journey from Cassange in Angola to Tete by Pedro Joäo Bap-
tista and Amaro José. The two pombeiros were dispatched for Zam-
bézia in 1806 by a pioneering Portuguese merchant of Cassange,
Honorato da Costa.32 The two bush traders were Negro, although
they may have had some Portuguese ancestry. They should not be
dismissed as lightly as Livingstone dismissed them. Since the early
days of the Congo a select class of Ovimbundu traders had partici-
pated in Angolan commerce; they have been called the greatest traders
of Bantu Africa. The leader, Joäo Baptista, was sufficiently literate to
keep a chronological journal of their adventures. From Cassange they
I92 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

headed east, reaching Cazembe's kraal, where they were detained three
years by native wars and Cazembe's reluctance to let them return to
Angola. With the restoration of trade between Zambézia and the
lands of Cazembe, the two traders reached Tete. A f t e r a lengthy resi-
dence in the town, they returned to Cassange in 1814 with six hundred
bales of merchandise. In Angola, Joâo Baptista was honored by the
Portuguese government.
What Amaro José and Joâo Baptista had accomplished was denied
two Portuguese officers in 1 8 3 1 - 3 2 . Majors José Correia Monteiro and
Antonio Pedroso Gamitto sought to follow the steps of Lacerda, ex-
ploring the headwaters of the Zambezi and crossing to Angola. Illness
and the agitated state of the country prevented them from getting be-
yond Lake Mweru, whence they sent a letter to the governor of An-
gola b y African messengers — which took seven years to arrive. Ga-
mitto's narrative of the journey from Tete and back, O Muata-
Cazembe, still offers valuable information on that section of Rhodesia.

N o man in the history of Portuguese Africa comes closer to filling

the role of folk hero than Antonio Francisco da Silva, invariably
known as Silva Porto. A n adventurer in the grand manner — gen-
erous, shrewd, sentimental — his personality dominated the interior
of Angola for almost fifty years. A father of several mulatto children,
a confidant of local chiefs, and a spectacular suicide, he lived in a
patriarchal relationship with the Africans of Bié; the characteristics
of his way of life are what the Portuguese have most in mind when
they speak of their ability to get along with the African. Born in
Oporto, which name he later added to his own, Silva Porto set off at
the age of twelve for Brazil. After a merchant apprenticeship in Rio
de Janeiro and Bahia, he arrived in Luanda in 1839. For two years he
traded in the backcountry of the capital, and in 1841 moved to Ben-
guela. A f e w years later he was in Bié; in 1847 he built his home and
stockade at a village he called Belmonte, less than a mile from the
modern town which bears his name. From Belmonte he traded the
countryside with his pombeiros, establishing a new route of commerce
from Bié to Benguela by w a y of Bailundo and Chisanji.
Although full of uncertainties, commercial life in the plateau
country of the Ovimbundu had existed for more than a century.
Pombeiros and Portuguese half-castes dotted the area up from Ben-
guela and out from Caconda with tiny forts and trading stations from
which they brought out ivory and slaves. In the nineteenth century,
with the abolition of the slave trade, which introduced a necessity for
 LIVINGSTONE AND T H E PORTUGUESE I 93

substitute products, and the cessation of the crown monopoly in ivory,

commerce blossomed in this region of Angola. New Portuguese mer-
chants took up residence in the Bié highlands, and the Ovimbundu
came into their own as the most important African traders below the
equator. With the opening of the ports of Benguela and Luanda to
foreign ships, trade with the outside world took the encouraging up-
turn which so impressed Livingstone. Ivory and slaves were slowly
replaced by beeswax and, after 1870, by rubber, as the principal items
of export. Rum, metal products, and cotton goods remained the main
import products and the staples of the inland traders.
Few, if any, Portuguese have known the interior of the colony as
well as Silva Porto, and it is a pity that his journals and notes have
yet to be published completely. His presence in the interior and his
repeated warnings of its importance to Portugal helped keep a waver-
ing colonial policy from entirely neglecting the hinterland in the
crucial middle years of the century. When in 1852 several Swahili
traders from Zanzibar appeared in Benguela after an overland trek
from the east coast, Silva Porto responded to the provincial govern-
ment's request to return with the merchants and carry messages to
the governor of Moçambique. Leaving from Belmonte in the same
year, he reached Lealui in Barotseland after a journey impeded by the
rains and native wars. Here a spell of sickness and doubts whether
a white man would be permitted to pass through some of the tribal
lands lying ahead prevented Silva Porto from continuing, but several
of his pombeiros did go on with the Swahili across the continent to
the southern tip of Lake Nyasa and the Rovuma. Eventually the mes-
sengers reached Moçambique. It was on this expedition that Silva
Porto met Livingstone and gave him valuable information on the
state of the country the Englishman planned to travel through.33
On his return from Barotseland, Silva Porto settled down at Bel-
monte, where he was to remain, save for a visit to Portugal and a
period of residence in Benguela, acting as captain major of Bié after
1885. He saw that Livingstone's visit had broken Angola's long isola-
tion and that the days of considering coastal occupation tantamount
to possession of the interior were numbered. Each year his warning
grew more urgent. The interior must not be abandoned. Railroads
must be built to the centers of Angolan commerce at Bié, Bailundo,
Caconda. Neglect of Angola's richest district could only lead to
infiltration by foreign agents and the increasing disrespect of the
African for Portuguese authority. Missions and forts and communi-
cation lines were the only answer to Portugal's position of humiliating
inferiority. In 1863 in scornfully rejecting the opinion of a provincial
194 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

governor who held that coastal domination was sufficient, Silva Porto
raged: "This is how it is in Portugal, where the only things that
matter are pointless rivalries, while the foreigner mocks us and even,
in his audacity, spits in our faces. Oh, misfortune! Damn the indiffer-
ent ones." 34 As it became more obvious that Angola would be en-
circled and union with Moçambique an impossibility, Silva Porto
grew more distressed at Portugal's weakness and folly.
His suicide in 1890 was an eloquent conclusion to his now em-
bittered life. In that inauspicious year, Portugal belatedly moved to
prevent English annexation of Barotseland and sent Henrique de
Paiva Couceiro with a small force to place the territory under Portu-
guese protection. The arrival of the expedition in Bié — the result at
last of a policy he had advocated — placed Silva Porto in an ironically
impossible situation: the soba of the region, Ndunduma (advised,
many Portuguese believe, by the English missionary Arnot) refused
Paiva Couceiro passage through his lands. Silva Porto, confident that
his prestige and friendship with the chief would prevail, went to the
kraal at Ecovango, but Ndunduma refused, insulting and threatening
the old trader. Paiva Couceiro would not withdraw. Sensing perhaps
that he was an anachronism and deeply wounded that the chief's
trust in him had gone, Silva Porto gathered a dozen kegs of gunpowder
(some authorities give fourteen) around his feet, wrapped himself in
a handmade Portuguese flag, and blew himself through the roof of his
house. Neither Paiva Couceiro nor Dr. Fisher of the Brethren Mission
could save the horribly burned pioneer, who died the following day.
A stronger force, including a contingent of Boer riflemen, returned
later in the year, defeated the rebellious tribe, and shipped its chief
off to the Cape Verdes. The new order had arrived in Belmonte.
Silva Porto's contemporaries in Angola included explorers and
naturalists. Joaquim Rodrigues Graça in 1846-1848 traveled to the
headwaters of the Zambezi and the territory of Lunda bordering
Cazembe, obtaining treaties of friendship between the important chiefs
of Lunda and the Portuguese government.35 In 1852 the Austrian
naturalist Friedrich Welwitsch was commissioned by Lisbon to make
a botanical survey of Angola. For six years Welwitsch explored
minutely the coast north of the Cuanza and the country in back of
Luanda as far as Ambaca. His study, including reports on more than
three thousand botanical specimens, was published in the Amis of
the Overseas Council in the years after 1854. Welwitsch's health by
1859 was so bad that he was forced to spend more than half his
time in bed; in hope of escaping the fevers of Luanda he sailed to
Moçâmedes. After seven months in the highlands of Huila, Welwitsch
 LIVINGSTONE AND T H E PORTUGUESE 195

returned to Lisbon in 1861, his health ruined, but in possession of the

most valuable botanical collection of tropical Africa.
The impressions made on the scientific world by the Welwitsch
collection at the London Exposition of 1862 and the second Paris
Exposition were so gratifying that the Portuguese government decided
to maintain a naturalist resident in Angola, who would explore the
province for zoological specimens for a collection to be formed in
the Polytechnical Museum in Lisbon. The government chose José
Alberto de Oliveira Anchieta, a Romantic with an intense enthusiasm
for the phenomena of exotic lands who had already spent five years
in the Portuguese Congo and another in Angola. In the first six years
of his stay in Angola he explored most of the western half of the
colony. From 1872 to 1876 he wandered up and down the basin of
the Cunene; his equipment lost or stolen and himself almost forgotten
by his government, Anchieta continued his work with that remarkable
dedication which Africa inspires in so many Europeans. The last
twenty years of his life were spent at Caconda where in a macabre
museum he collected his specimens and notes for Lisbon. His extraor-
dinary collection of Angolan mammals helped further the zoological
knowledge of Africa.

Neither Angola nor Moçambique was as lacking in explorers and

prophets as Livingstone had supposed, even though both provinces
presented a discouraging countenance to Portuguese and foreigners
alike. In the metropolis as well, scholars and statesmen hammered at a
policy of colonial neglect which could only bear out Livingstone's
declamations and increase the appetite of other nations. In the fore-
front of these colonialists were Joâo de Andrade Corvo and Luciano
Cordeiro, men schooled in the liberal tradition of Sá da Banderia.
As Portugal moved into the critical decade of the 1870's, it be-
came apparent that the various committees appointed ten years earlier
had been able to do nothing but make recommendations which were
given passing attention and pigeon-holed. Joâo de Andrade Corvo, a
one-time history teacher and journalist who served intermittently as
jMinister of Marine and Overseas and Foreign Minister during the
decade, in a series of candid articles and in speeches before the par-
liament defined the necessities of a practical colonial policy. About
1875 he wrote: "It is no longer possible to postpone the construction
of roads, the navigation of rivers, the building of railroads, and, finally,
the rewriting of tariff laws. We can no longer continue to live iso-
lated, as we could when our African colonies were little more than
196 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

parks for the production and creation of slaves. T o d a y the world is

one of work and not indolence; the earth is for men and no one can
keep civilization from it. It must produce and produce well. . . T h e
question of public works in our overseas possessions is not a political
question. Our vast domains will be an effective force if we immedi-
ately bring civilization to them, if we bring to them education, work,
liberty in its rational meaning, liberty in harmony with the moral
and intellectual state of the population, if we attract capital . . . and
permit the free exploitation of industry and commerce. . . " 3 6 In a
speech in the Cámara dos Pares in 1879, he said: "Colonial problems
must not be treated as political questions, but as questions of economics
and administration. . . In my opinion, our country's interest urgently
demands the development of our colonies. Only through these colonies
will Portugal be able to take the place she deserves in the concert of
nations; only on their preservation and prosperity does her future
greatness depend." 3 7
Such plain talk and the image of Portuguese incompetence in
Africa — reiterated in the "calumnies" of men like Lovett Cameron
— were not altogether without effect. In 1876 the government ap-
propriated a sizable, if insufficient, sum for engineering projects in
Africa. T h e year before a more important and less costly step was
taken toward the rehabilitation of the colonies with the foundation
of the Geographical Society of Lisbon. Growing out of a permanent
geographical committee set up by Andrade Corvo and sponsored by
the Overseas Ministry, the society made decisive contributions to
Portugal's colonial cause during the last quarter of the century. Under
the able guidance of one of its founders, Luciano Cordeiro, it under-
took the difficult and often thankless task of creating an African
consciousness in Portugal by sponsoring scientific exploration of the
colonies and the publication of texts illustrating Portugal's historic
role in Angola and Moçambique. 38 Cordeiro, who was subsequently
a member of the delegation to the Conference of Berlin, made the
society an effective force in combating the attitude prevalent in
Europe toward Portuguese Africa. A special committee, the Portu-
guese National Committee for the Exploration and Civilization of
Africa — more briefly called the African Committee — was created
to study and report on foreign comments and attitudes on Portu-
guese Africa.
T h e Geographical Society shared in the promotion by the Lisbon
government of expeditions which did far more than speeches and
legislation to dramatize the presence of Africa and helped restore
national pride in the traditional abilities of the Portuguese explorers.
 L I V I N G S T O N E AND T H E PORTUGUESE I 97

The most famous of these was the Capelo-Ivens-Serpa Pinto expedi-

tion of 1877 which, though prepared in haste and having an uncertain
purpose, was the most significant project of exploration since La-
cer da's Zambezi journey of the previous century. The three men
chosen by the government were young navy and army officers, all of
whom had previous contact with Africa. Hermenigildo Capelo and
Roberto Ivens were navy officers whose tours of duty had taken them
to Angola and Moçambique. Lt. Ivens was the more ardent Africanist;
on a trip up the Congo to Boma he had made a cartographical survey
of the region. The striking personality of the group was Major
Alexandre Alberto da Rocha de Serpa Pinto. Formerly a lieutenant
in the Zambezi Brigade of 1869, Serpa Pinto had longed for seven
years to return to Africa. When he heard that an expedition was being
formed, he offered his services to Andrade Corvo, who referred him
to the leader Capelo. Impressed with Serpa Pinto's zeal, Capelo wel-
comed him as a member of the expedition and asked him to accom-
pany him on a trip to Paris and London to purchase equipment. The
three men sailed for Luanda in J u l y 1877.
The original plan of the expedition was to make a hydrographie
survey of the Congo and Zambezi headwaters and to chart the terri-
tory lying between Angola and Moçambique. Subsequent instructions
spoke of studying the Cuanza in its relation to the Congo and of
following the course of the Cunene, two problems which had long
defied Portuguese solution, but Andrade Corvo, realizing that plans
made in Lisbon could not always be fulfilled in Africa, left ultimate
decisions to the discretion of the expedition's leaders. After arriving
in Luanda the three officers found it necessary to take advantage of
this latitude in their instructions. It was impossible to get bearers in
the vicinity of the capital. A t the same time they discovered from
Stanley, fresh from the heart of the Congo and in Luanda on Serpa
Pinto's invitation, that one part of the original project had already
been accomplished.39 T h e y thereupon decided to explore the Cunene,
and Serpa Pinto sailed for Benguela to get bearers; but on the arrival
of Capelo and Ivens some weeks later, plans were again changed in
favor of a direct penetration into the district of Bié.
In spite of the assistance of Silva Porto, the problem of insufficient
African porters again became acute after their departure from
Benguela. At Caconda, Serpa Pinto, personnel officer for the expedi-
tion — Capelo was the meteorologist and natural scientist while Ivens
served as topographer — went north to Huambo (Nova Lisboa) to
recruit. In his absence, Capelo and Ivens, having found some willing
Africans in Caconda, continued on their way. T h e reasons for their
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

departure are not clear, but Serpa Pinto, lonely and sick, was deeply
offended by the apparent desertion. A t Huambo the idea of cross-
ing Africa alone occurred to him. When he rejoined his companions
at Belmonte, the split between them became final. Capelo and Ivens,
after offering to accompany the exhausted army officer to Benguela,
left him in Silva Porto's embala with a third of the equipment while
they set off to the north.
On regaining his strength, Serpa Pinto determined to go through
with his plan. Encouraged by Silva Porto, who promised to come to
him wherever he was, should his aid be needed, Serpa Pinto left
Belmonte in late May with twenty-three bearers. After three months
of exhaustion and hunger, he reached the Zambezi at Lealui in the
trading area of Barotseland known to the Portuguese. N o w quite ill,
he followed the course of the river down to Lesuma, where the
fortunes of African exploration brought him into contact with two
English zoologists, Dr. Benjamin Bradshaw and Dr. Alexander Walsh.
The two naturalists nursed Serpa Pinto for several days until arrange-
ments could be made to transport him to the camp of the French
medical missionary, François Coillard, some miles to the south.
Through the patient ministrations of Coillard and his wife, the ex-
plorer regained his strength. After a side excursion to Victoria Falls,
Serpa Pinto accompanied the Coillard family in their Boer carts due
south across the western corner of the Kalahari Desert to Shushong,
which they reached the last day of 1878. From there Serpa Pinto went
on to Pretoria and down to Durban. His spectacular crossing of the
continent had an immediate response in Europe; he was invited to
address geographical societies in London and Paris, and in Portugal,
where he was feted as a hero the equal of Stanley and Livingstone. His
exploits did much to restore the confidence and reputation of
Portugal in Africa.
The journey of Capelo and Ivens, less sensational though more
painstaking, did not arouse the same popular enthusiasm as did the
solitary passage of Serpa Pinto, but their journal De Beneguela as
terras de laca was quickly translated into English, From Benguella to
the Territory of Y acca (London, 1882). From Bié the two officers
traveled in a northerly direction for two years to Cassange and
Malange, then along the upper reaches of the Cuango, and from
there back to Luanda. T h e expedition produced the first thorough
survey of this part of the province. In 1884 the Portuguese govern-
ment again called upon Capelo and Ivens, this time to lead an expedi-
tion from Angola to Moçambique. T h e ostensible purpose was to
map the basin of the Cubango and investigate the commerce of the
 L I V I N G S T O N E AND T H E PORTUGUESE I 99

interior. Fundamental to their exploration, however, was to discover

a trade route between the two colonies on the basis of which Portugal
could establish a sufficient connection to justify her claims for a
corridor across the continent. Departing from Moçâmedes, Capelo
and Ivens followed the by now familiar route to Lealui and then
swung northeast along the Kabompo River. Reaching a point slightly
north of the modern city of Elisabethville, they turned south toward
Zumbo and from there down the Zambezi to Quelimane.
T w o other expeditions even more plainly designed to strengthen
Portuguese sovereignty were the Niassa explorations of Serpa Pinto
and Augusto Cardoso and the Cassai journeys of Henrique Augusto
Dias de Carvalho. Conceived by the ambitious overseas minister Pin-
heiro Chagas as further demonstrations of a Portuguese renaissance
in Africa, neither expedition was in any large sense one of geographical
discovery, since both areas had been penetrated and partially mapped
by previous explorers. Such African political excursions by the middle
1880's were generally explained as expeditions of scientific or com-
mercial inquiry, a sacrosanct explanation which may have fooled some
scientists and businessmen, but which had a more cynical significance
for the statesmen of Europe. The Portuguese realized that if they
were to salvage the country east of Lake Nyasa and south of the
Rovuma, more persuasive arguments than ancient maps were needed.
In 1884 the government called upon Serpa Pinto, consul at Zanzibar,
to organize an expedition which would re-establish the traffic, though
not in slaves, of course, which formerly flowed between the lake
country and Ibo, thus offering indisputable evidence of Portuguese
rights to the area. Serpa Pinto suffered a recurrence of an old malaise
shortly after leaving the coast and was obliged to entrust Augusto
Cardoso with the responsibilities of the expedition. Cardoso fulfilled
his instructions perfectly; he raised the Portuguese flag on the shores of
Lake Nyasa and obtained signatures of fealty to Portugal from various
local chiefs.
Dias de Carvalho journeyed to the heart of modern Katanga with
the same purpose. At the kraal of the great chief of Lunda, the
Mutianvua, a treaty was signed wherein the chief recognized Portu-
guese sovereignty, asked Portuguese troops to occupy Lunda, and
agreed to prohibit slavery in his realm. This was the standard con-
tract which every European explorer seems to have carried in his
boots on the oflfchance of running into a soba not signed to a rival
company; even in this eventuality, contracts were often broken. As
far as Lunda was concerned, by the time Carvalho reached the Mu-
tianvua's capital beyond the Lulua River in early 1886 the diplomats
2 OO PORTUGUESE AFRICA

at the Berlin Conference had made other disposition of this part of

the world. But the expedition was not made in vain. T h e occupation
stations established by Carvalho had the effect of pushing the eastern
frontiers of Angola to the Kasai, a formidable achievement if one
considers that these territorial inroads were made into the private
lands of that most rapacious humanitarian, Leopold II of Belgium.
B y 1885 the record of Portuguese exploration in Africa, ancient
and modern, was equaled only by that of the English. If the partition
of Africa had been made purely on the basis of exploration, the
boundaries of Angola and Moçambique would be different from what
they are today, but this was not to be. Nevertheless, the contributions
of Serpa Pinto, Capelo and Ivens, and Dias de Carvalho were not lost,
for they served to give contemporary reality to traditional Portuguese
claims and to fix Portuguese determination. And they were, ironically,
the legacy of Livingstone.
 V i l i

I N T E R N A T I O N A L DISPUTES

F o r Portugal the significance of the Berlin Conference in 1884-85

was that European attitudes toward her position in Africa at that
time hardened into policies. T h e conference grew out of the abortive
Anglo-Portuguese Treaty of 1884 regarding sovereignty over the
Congo basin — in fact, it was the Lisbon foreign office which first
proposed a meeting of colonial powers — and it began a series of
events, but f e w of them favoring the Portuguese, which extended to
1914. The conference decided little, and its importance, save for its
symbolic significance of having fired a tardy starting gun for the
scramble for Africa, has probably been exaggerated, since the prin-
cipal regulations of the General Act almost all failed in their pur-
poses. Its loosely worded philanthropic intentions furnished pretext
and sanction for the use of power diplomacy and justification for un-
bridled imperialism. Of the major colonial powers taking part in the
conference — France, England, Germany, Belgium, and Portugal —
only the last failed to gain some sort of advantage. Nevertheless,
Portugal, the European nation with the longest and most valid coloniz-
ing record in Africa (such a statement has value only in a compara-
tive sense) was fortunate, in the view of some dispassionate observers,
in not losing more than she did in the years after 1885.
The attitude in Europe toward the Portuguese colonies was pre-
dominantly the English attitude described previously, although on
occasions both England and other nations, in moments of belligerence
toward one another, found it convenient to defend Portuguese sov-
ereignty in Africa and to pretend that what they had been saying
2O2 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

yesterday about the low state of Angola and Moçambique was not
really so or that affairs there had taken a sudden miraculous turn for
the better. It is true that Germany, France, and Belgium in the i88o's
found the accepted English view a handy club to beat the Portuguese
with, but several nations of Europe, notably Holland and France in
addition to England, had already had more than casual involvement
with Portugal over the African territories and did not need to rely
on second-hand prejudice. N o r had the issues been solely concerned
with slavery. Commercial rivalries and Indian Ocean naval policies
had their repercussions in Moçambique, and English arguments with
the Boers also had effect there. Angola from 1650 to 1880, save for
squabbles over the slave trade up the Congo and the interlude of the
traffic's repression, escaped foreign notice, but Portuguese East Africa
was from late in the eighteenth century either peripherally or centrally
involved in international disputes.

After the half century (1600-1650) of Dutch attacks on Portu-

guese territories in East and West Africa, the two colonies were rela-
tively undisturbed by serious foreign visitations until the late 1700's.
English and occasional Dutch and French ships called at the ports of
Moçambique, but these contacts were infrequent. Austria's Delagoa
Bay adventure from 1776 to 1781 was important only for bringing
that part of the coast under renewed Portuguese scrutiny. French
activity, however, was a greater threat to Moçambique. Although
by 1780 the only base in the Indian Ocean left to France was the
Ile de France (Mauritius), French vessels dominated shipping com-
merce from Mombasa to Cape Delgado and for the next twenty-
five years seemed a constant threat to Portugal's possession of Mo-
çambique.
Portugal, at home and in East Africa, vacillated in her affections
between France and England; for- the governor of Moçambique the
situation was especially difficult. Although more attracted by the
commercial prosperity of the Arab ports to the north, the French on
the île de France and Réunion still relied upon Moçambique to send
them foodstuffs and a small number of slaves, and there was strong
feeling in Moçambique that the insular French government, which
made no secret of its contempt for Portuguese authority on the main-
land, might at any moment decide to occupy the capital and the
several worthwhile ports. Not being able to count on the assistance
of the British navy, the governor of the province was constrained
to follow a policy of hopeful neutrality, which became increasingly
 INTERNATIONAL DISPUTES 203
difficult as Portugal was drawn into the Anglo-French struggle. The
French, for their part, were happy to accept a policy which continued
the supply of food and slaves; officially they deplored the depreda-
tions of French corsairs which roamed the coast of Moçambique,
disturbing coastal shipping and menacing the ports of Ibo, Inhambane,
and the factory at Lourenço Marques where they forced the f e w
Portuguese subjects to flee into the interior. T o prevent the privateers'
attacks the governor of Moçambique at the end of the century for-
bade Portuguese ships from going to the islands and opened Mo-
çambique ports to French ships — under neutral colors — hoping in
this manner to reduce the incidents at sea and to stimulate legitimate
commerce. The new arrangement proved generally satisfactory. The
trade in slaves and émigrés to Réunion in the nineteenth century,
except for the five-year period of English occupation ( 1 8 1 0 - 1 8 1 5 ) ,
was one of the province's most important economic props.
With Bonaparte's Egyptian campaign and his plans for a re-
surgence of French power in the Indian Ocean, fresh fears swept
Moçambique. In 1799 the governor of Moçambique wrote his govern-
ment that ". . . if the coast of Malabar fell into the hands of the
French, they would immediately think of taking possession of the
Portuguese establishments on the East Coast of Africa, as they depend
entirely on these for their commerce in the two principal products,
ivory and gold, which these two colonies furnish in exchange for
their goods." 1 In turn, the Lisbon government warned the governor
to be vigilant against possible French or Spanish attacks. These sus-
picions were not without foundation, in spite of English naval su-
periority in the Indian Ocean, and only after the blockade and cap-
ture of the île de France in 1809-10 by British ships did Moçambique's
fears of a French occupation subside. Even in 1810, Moçambique is-
land might have fallen to French vessels sent from Brest to reinforce
the île de France; finding their base captured, the French captains
resolved to take Moçambique instead, and only an unlucky encounter
with English warships off Madagascar prevented the attempt.

In losing one suitor of doubtful character, Moçambique won an-

other whose attentions were more persistent and no less improper.
The presence of the French along the East African coast, the aboli-
tion of the slave trade, British expansion in South Africa, the financial
plight of English commerce in India — all contrived to waken British
interest in Moçambique. On the occasion of Bonaparte's invasion of
Portugal in 1807, the desirability of taking over the Portuguese pos-
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

sessions in India and East Africa was seriously discussed by governing

members of the East India Company and the British government;
the discussion was motivated by considerations other than that of
simply protecting the territories from French control should the pro-
French faction in the Portuguese court prevail. In 1809 one of the
earliest African scientific expeditions left the Cape to find out more
about East Africa. But the two Englishmen and their bearers who
made up the expedition disappeared in the vicinity of Sofala not to be
heard from again. The next year two ships set out from Bombay to
explore the coast south of Cape Guardafui in pursuit of information
on the land, the inhabitants, and commerce. T o these overtures the
Moçambique government responded with matronly courtesy and
reserve. At the same time England used its great influence on the
displaced Portuguese court to obtain a commercial treaty in 1810
granting Britain a favored position in Portuguese territories, where
duties on British imports could not exceed 15 per cent. British mer-
chants were not to be restrained from buying and selling except in
those products reserved for the crown monopoly.
The treaty did not alter the pattern of Moçambique's commerce,
which was the slave trade. Ivory and gold dust were the only other
important exports, both of these products being shipped principally
to British India. Although more direct trade in Portuguese and British
ships resulted from the treaty, the bulk of Moçambique commerce
continued to be the small indirect trade carried on by Arabs, many
of them so-called English Arabs, and Indian traders who went from
India to Moçambique and back via Muscat and Zanzibar. T h e East
India Company did not benefit from the carrying trade, but the in-
crease in the flow of products between India and East Africa made
the connection with the Portuguese colony a valuable one.
The point of friction between Portuguese and British interests
in East Africa was not in commercial dealings, however, but in a
British coastal survey and certain incidents at Delagoa Bay. In 1820
the British Admiralty, with assistance from the East India Company,
decided to send several ships to investigate and survey the coast north
of Algoa Bay. Command of the expedition was given to Captain Wil-
liam Fitzwilliam Owen, who from 1822 to 1825 surveyed and charted
the coast from Guardafui to Table Bay. Important as was his scientific
contribution, the consequences of the expedition were ultimately
political.
Like so many Englishmen who visited Angola and Moçambique
after him, Owen was a humanitarian and imperialist, scornful of the
Portuguese and an advocate of dispossessing them of their colonies
 INTERNATIONAL DISPUTES 205
in the name of pious humanity and free trade. Delagoa Bay, one of
the finest natural harbors in East Africa, seemed to O w e n a logical
place for his country to begin a policy of appropriation, since the
Portuguese claim to the area was not clearly defined in terms of oc-
cupation and control over the African population. Owen's suggestions
were one of the earliest examples of European conduct in nineteenth-
century Africa which made the anomaly, "In grabbing land, no claim
is better than a poor claim," a cornerstone of colonial philosophy.
From the sixteenth century the region around the trading station
of Lourenço Marques represented the southern extent of Portugal's
East African territories. Off and on, foreign ships had called there
or set up short-lived factories (there were t w o Dutch posts and the
Austrian fort briefly occupied in the eighteenth century), but b y
1800 it was fairly well accepted b y both the French and English that
Portugal held jurisdiction over the great outer bay as well as the
inner harbor where the fortress of Lourenço Marques was situated.
T h e controversy which began with O w e n and did not end until the
arbitrated decision in 1875 turned on the matter of jurisdiction over
the outer bay.
O n his first visit to Delagoa Bay, where he presented his cre-
dentials to the fortress captain, O w e n reported that the Portuguese
soldiers there admitted to no control over the rampaging Zulus in
the neighborhood, w h o alternated between attacking the fort and
selling the local tribesmen they captured to the Portuguese. W h i l e
O w e n was visiting Moçambique island, a new district governor seized
t w o British merchant ships in the Delagoa Bay harbor and claimed
the whole bay area as a Portuguese possession. O n his return O w e n
forced the return of the t w o vessels and made treaties of friendship
and protection with several chiefs on the southern bank of the Tembe
River. T h e following year (1823) the union jack was flown at
Catembe (on the shore opposite Lourenço Marques), an action the
Portuguese garrison could do little about, since in the same year
their fortress was under assault b y African warriors. But in 1824 a
new Portuguese governor had the flag hauled down, raising in its
stead the Portuguese banner. O w e n did not give in easily, and in 1825
his warships captured in the bay a French slaver carrying Portuguese
colors.
O w e n constantly reminded his government that Delagoa Bay was
of the greatest importance to the Cape colony, and nothing "would
give him greater pleasure than to see ten thousand British of any sect
occupy it." T h e Portuguese had no authority beyond their guns, and
"Britain could arrange treaties with those independent chiefs and
2 o6 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

thereby destroy the slave trade, as well as establish factories for com-
merce where she could undersell the Portuguese 'and starve them out'
without 'infringing on national or political justice.' " The Portuguese
should be persuaded to move back to Inhambane.2
Subsequent British visitors to the region supported Owen's ag-
gressive recommendations, stating that there was nothing to justify
Portugal's claims. While an uncertain status quo was observed in
Delagoa Bay, with rival flags fluttering on opposite sides of the river,
the dispute was carried to London, where the case in point was
whether the English ship Eleanor had been lawfully taken by the
Portuguese garrison at Lourenço Marques in 1825. The argument
put forward by England was that Portuguese authority did not ex-
tend to the south bank of the Tembe, that they neither held land
there nor could claim the effective allegiance of the African tribes.
Portgual countered with references to her historic position in Mo-
çambique and held that various treaties she had made with Great
Britain implicitly recognized her possession of the bay area and that
prior to Owen's visit British trading ships had also respected Portu-
guese priority there. These contentions were the crux of the dispute
arbitrated by President MacMahon of France fifty years later; in
the late 1820's, however, England, while not formally acknowledging
Portugal's position, failed to pursue a positive course of her own, and
the affair was temporarily forgotten.
In the following decades Portuguese administrators reasserted
their control over Delagoa Bay, charging for the right to trade there
and closing the bay to trade when they chose. They did this without
strong British protest. Toward the Boers local governors were more
hospitable, in the middle 1840's regarding them as potential good
neighbors and perhaps the salvation of the little town of Lourenço
Marques. Lisbon was more skeptical of foreign instrusions and for-
bade any Boer settlement in the African port. Neither the English
colony at Natal nor a Transvaal Republic to the west was viewed by
colonial officials in Lisbon with any emotion except apprehension,
and an effort was begun to fortify the town and bring local chiefs
under Portuguese allegiance. The Boers, for their part, were anxious
to obtain an outlet in the Indian Ocean other than Natal and entered
into negotiations with Portugal in 1858 for the use of Lourenço
Marques. A pact was proposed in that year providing for the rec-
ognition of Moçambique-Transvaal frontiers and for communication
between the two countries, but it was not ratified. Portugal was still
fearful about taking a step which might lead to the loss of Delagoa
Bay.
 INTERNATIONAL DISPUTES 207
The English in Natal were equally concerned about the Transvaal
Republic's gaining an entry to the sea at Lourenço Marques. In 1861,
they took Inhaca Island at the mouth of the bay, although no attempt
was made to raise the British flag again at Catembe. Portuguese pro-
tests led to lengthy correspondence between Lisbon and London. In
1869 Portugal concluded a commercial treaty with the Transvaal
which recognized the southern boundary of Moçambique at 26o 30' S.
latitude, well beyond the limits of Delagoa Bay, and provided for
the use of Lourenço Marques by the Boers once effective communica-
tion was established. A new crisis was precipitated when Britain
refused to recognize the treaty; finally she agreed to submit the dis-
pute to arbitration. In 1873-74 both countries presented their cases
to the referee, Marshal MacMahon, President of France. The English
case was based almost entirely on Owen's treaties with the natives
of the area and his observations on Portugal's doubtful sovereignty;
Portugal's brief, five times as long, was a patiently detailed account
of three centuries of Portuguese activities. In 1875 President Mac-
Mahon admitted the justice of Portugal's claims and decided that her
sovereignty in effect extended to the limits fixed by the 1869 treaty.
Lack of occupation, he observed, did not violate her claims. N o other
border decision involving either Angola or Moçambique can compare
in importance with MacMahon's ruling, for now Portugal indisputably
held one of the finest ports in Africa, whose possession was to be the
most influential factor in Moçambique's economic development.
The Delagoa Bay squabble, a prelude to the scramble for Africa,
contributed to the deterioration of Anglo-Portuguese relations in
Africa. English popular contempt for the allegedly sleepy degenerate
Portuguese colonies found more than occasional response in the
Foreign Office. Portugal, ever more apprehensive of Britain's designs
in east and central Africa, nevertheless realized the folly of risking the
loss of English support. With a realism not untouched by self-pity,
Andrade Corvo defended the necessity for England's friendship if
Portugal was to press her claims to great extents of territory for which
she might seem to have, in modern eyes, slight justification.3
So low in esteem was Portugal held by other European powers
that she was only belatedly invited to the Brussels Conference in 1877
— from which emerged the International Association of the Congo
— to participate in a discussion of how best to open equatorial Africa
to European civilization, although Portugal's historical contact with
the area was greater than that of any of the nations attending. In the
face of such disregard, the English alliance was vital for the preserva-
tion of Portuguese Africa, but it was a tricky problem of statesman-
2o8 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

ship simultaneously to maintain it and keep England from abusing it.

Had not Portugal dragged her feet in suppressing slavery and had
she spoken more convincingly of free trade in Africa, the English
attitude toward Portugal would have unquestionably been different,
but one can only speculate to what extent England would have been
willing to subordinate her own colonial interests to those of Portugal
in the last twenty years of the century.

A t no time did Portugal need English support more than in the

years immediately before and after the Conference of Berlin. Al-
though the Conference was precipitated by an Anglo-Portuguese
treaty on jurisdiction over the lower Congo, the issue of the Congo
was an ancient one, dating back to 1600 when Portugal sought to
prevent the Dutch from slave trading at the river's mouth. With the
decline of Portuguese influence in Sâo Salvador, the region was grad-
ually deserted by its European inhabitants. A t the mouth of the river,
which in the centuries of slaving was an international port of call, the
Portuguese usually maintained a small trading station. In 1784, mis-
trustful of French intent, Portugal built a fortress north of the river
at Cabinda, but it was demolished by a French frigate — reportedly
in the interest of the freedom of European trade along the coast —
almost as soon as it was built. A f t e r the usual lengthy litigation, a
treaty between the two powers was signed wherein France tacitly
acknowledged Portuguese claims to the northern boundary of Ca-
binda, that is, up to 5 0 1 2 ' S. latitude. Portugal did not occupy this
section of the coast, but in the treaties of 181 o and 1817 with England,
the latter seemed to recognize Portuguese claims here by including
this coastal section in the area where the slave trade could be legiti-
mately carried on by Portuguese vessels. Afterwards, however, Eng-
land, feeling that Portugal was making no efforts to put an end to
the traffic north of Ambriz, refused to recognize Portuguese authority
over any territory north of that port, which is situated at 8° S. lati-
tude. Ambriz itself was not administered by Portuguese officials until
1855, and from then until the early 1880's the British resolutely
forbade any expansion from there up the coast. Lisbon constantly
protested the restraint and did not yield her claim to both banks of
the Congo.
B y 1882-83 England was ready to reconsider her position on
Portugal's assertions of priority. T h e frenzied expeditions of Sa-
vorgnan de Brazza, in the service of the French government, and
Stanley, who on behalf of King Leopold's International Association
 INTERNATIONAL DISPUTES 209
of the Congo had been scouring the Congo Basin and central Africa
obtaining treaties of friendship and protection from African chiefs,
alarmed both England and Portugal. Portugal foresaw that she might
shortly lose territory she had been accustomed to regard as her own.
Between the ambitions of France and of Leopold, England feared
more the already known high-tariff policies which followed France's
path down the coast. De Brazza's acquisitions posed the real threat
that the river would be closed to international traffic and made Eng-
land receptive to overtures from the Portuguese government in 1882
for a clarification of the latter's status in the Congo.
In choosing to treat with Portugal, England realized that she was
dealing with a country whose notions of protective tariffs were more
conservative than those of France, but the nineteenth century had
proved that Portuguese statesmen were malleable. Portugal's dilemma
was worse: she must decide which nation she less distrusted, England
or France. Although England had been cool the year before to a new
discussion of the Congo question, it was apparent that now in late
1882 the interests of the two old-time allies were closer. And it was
obvious that France was moved by territorial ambitions along the
Congo, while perhaps England sought only commercial advantages.
Nevertheless, the idea of playing one against the other was an at-
tractive possibility, and Portugal left the door open for negotiations
with France through most of 1883, until it became evident that France
had no intention of recognizing Portuguese claims north of 8° S.
latitude.
In the Anglo-Portuguese treaty drawn up in 1884, but never
ratified, England at last recognized the claims she had persistently
denied for sixty years. This aroused very natural suspicions in France
and Germany that the treaty was a prelude to English domination
of the Congo coast. In return for the recognition Portugal agreed
to charge a maximum duty of 1 o per cent ad valorem on goods enter-
ing the area and to give British subjects a most-favored-nation treat-
ment there. An Anglo-Portuguese commission would be established
to control traffic. Britain, correctly sensing that a dual commission
would create antagonisms among other powers, had favored an
international commission, but gave way in the face of Portuguese
reluctance. Portugal's sovereignty on both sides of the Congo would
extend about fifty miles, up to Noqui, and she was to grant freedom
of navigation on the river.4
A treaty which gave, as it seemed, commercial advantages to Eng-
land in the Congo region and which placed control of the lower
banks of the waterway in the hands of Portugal, regarded by her few
2IO PORTUGUESE AFRICA

friends as incompetent and by her enemies as backward and isola-

tionist, was bound to meet with opposition. Jealousies of England in
Europe and scorn for Portugal in England and Europe made such a
disposal of equatorial Africa's principal waterway impossible. France's
opposition was immediate. She made representations to Lisbon that
both the io-per-cent tariff and the dual commission were unaccept-
able, and that she was not prepared to recognize Portuguese claims
to 5° 1 2 ' S. latitude. Portugal seemed willing to compromise on the
first two points, but clung doggedly to her territorial claims. Portugal
also suspected that the English Foreign Office was not giving ap-
propriate support to the treaty, a suspicion which grew wRen a con-
siderable segment of Parliament voiced opposition to giving the
Congo delta to a power whose "moral title was certainly no stronger
than the legal title . . . whose customs systems were such as to fetter
the activities of trade with shackles of a truly medieval type." 5 Eng-
lish popular opposition to the treaty must be viewed against a back-
ground of public opinion hostile to Portugal's role in Africa. The
writings of Owen, Buxton, Livingstone, and Cameron had created a
consciousness which made the English fear that some form of slavery
invariably came on the heels of Portuguese occupation, a notion re-
inforced by Stanley's caustic anti-Portuguese comments in his many
public denunciations of the treaty. Portugal's equivocal conduct from
March to May of 1884 made the matter of amendments more difficult,
but a diluted version of the treaty might have been salvaged had not
Bismarck's blunt communication to the British government precluded
all hopes of compromise. His note of June 7 was a flat rejection. " W e
are not in a position to admit that the Portuguese or any other nation
have a previous right there. W e share the fear which, as Lord Gran-
ville admits, has been expressed by merchants of all nations, that the
actions of Portuguese officials would be prejudicial to trade . . .
W e cannot take part in any scheme for handing over the administra-
tion, or even the direction, of these arrangements to Portuguese of-
ficials." 6
In the midst of the delicate negotiations Portugal had suggested
that a new basis for the treaty might be reached at an international
conference, a proposal rejected by England. But Portugal, her faith
in England wavering, circulated the idea among other European
capitals. When the proposal was taken up by Germany as an op-
portunity to seize the initiative from England, the Berlin West African
Conference of 1884-85 was the result. A t Berlin Portugal lost half
of what she had sought to keep by her original suggestion for a con-
ference.
 INTERNATIONAL DISPUTES 2II
Her role at the conference was not a major one, although she was
one of the five major parties to the discussions. In the course of the
negotiations Portugal discovered that she could consistently rely on
the help of no other nation, although on some issues she collaborated
closely with France, whose interests in the Congo now more nearly
paralleled her own. That Portugal did not fare worse at the con-
ference seems partly to have been the result of her secondary status
(which did not bring her into essential political conflict with the
great powers), of the skill of her delegation (which included Luciano
Cordeiro), and of the jealousies of England, France, and Germany,
which led these nations to use Portuguese claims as pawns to check
their antagonists. Had not Leopold II skillfully manipulated these
jealousies to advance the interests of the International Association of
the Congo at the expense, in some cases, of Portuguese claims, it is
very possible that Portugal's representatives might have kept her
African colonies intact.
The various declarations set forth in the General Act of the Berlin
Conference did not directly touch the substance of Portuguese claims,
since such matters as the disposition of the lower Congo, though re-
sulting from the conference and carried on while it was in session,
were not within its framework. The first two tasks were to define the
mouth and basin of the Congo and to assure free trade in the region.
Without pressing her claims for the coast between 5 0 1 2 ' and 8° S.
latitude, Portugal promised to permit free trade there if her claims
were granted. N o t even when the geographical limits of the free-
trade area were pushed to the eastern watershed line of Lake Tan-
ganyika and south to the watershed of the Zambezi, extensions taking
in territory unquestionably Portuguese, did Portugal's delegation
offer serious objections. N o r did she oppose the concept of free
navigation on the Congo, but with France she demanded that along
those sections of the river held by a sovereign power, pilot tariffs,
navigation dues, and questions of general policy be reserved to that
power. The subsequent division of the river revealed that Portugal
and France had played into the hands of the International Association.
In the third large problem taken up by the delegates, the conditions
for the occupation of the continent, Portugal had little voice, although
the purposely vague wording of the article ( " T h e Signatory Powers of
the Present Act recognize the obligation to ensure the establishment
of authority in the regions occupied by them on the coasts of the
African Continent sufficient to protect existing rights . . .") became
a dangerous weapon against Portugal's interests in Africa. The inter-
pretation given by Bismarck to the article, that the possessor of terri-
2 I 2 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

tory must within a reasonable time prove by practical achievements

his will and power to exercise his rights and fulfill his duties there,
became the convenient yardstick by which to measure Portugal's
rights in Africa.
Before the conference was over, Portugal had been forced to
make her first concession. Acting with the support of France, she
attempted to hold the coastal sections north of the Congo's mouth
as specified in the now dead Anglo-Portuguese treaty. T h e threat
implied to the International Association (to be known as the Congo
Free State on the termination of the conference) was at once ap-
parent, and it became the task of Germany, later seconded by England
and France, to convince Portugal to come to more reasonable terms.
The first proposal made to Portugal was that she should accept the
coast up to the southern bank of the river, the left bank of the Congo
as far upstream as Noqui, and the right to lands stretching inland
south of 14° latitude. Portugal refused, standing firm on her "historic
rights" and leading England and Germany to believe that she was
acting in collusion with France to bottle up Leopold's domain. In
December 1884, however, France began to work with the Associa-
tion toward a partition of the Congo, negotiations which were swiftly
concluded. Leopold, suspecting that France was still secretly en-
couraging Portugal in her fixed attitude, held off his approval until
France promised to use her influence on Portugal to reduce her
demands. T h e Portuguese delegation gave way slightly: Portugal
would grant an extension of the Association's frontier to Boma on the
north bank and allow her to build a railroad through Portuguese
territory along the south bank; but the river must remain under
Portuguese control. These demands were untenable, and Portugal,
now standing alone against the pressures of the impatient major
powers, agreed to yield her claim to the north bank of the river pro-
vided she were given the enclave of Cabinda, a proposal the Associa-
tion accepted after some hesitation.
In the meantime, political opinion in Portugal militated against
such concessions, and before a convention could be signed, the Portu-
guese delegation asked for the port of Banana, at the mouth of the
Congo on the north shore, and an extension of her lands on the left
bank beyond Noqui to Vivi. It was felt at this stage of the negotia-
tions that the Portuguese delegates, fearful of being accused at home
of having sold Portugal's interests down the river, were seeking to
produce pressure on themselves. Germany, France, and England
obliged by delivering to Portugal on February 13, 1885, a note to
the effect that if she persisted in her stubbornness, the territorial rights
 INTERNATIONAL DISPUTES 213
already recognized as hers would be questioned. T w o days later a
convention was signed. Portugal retained only Cabinda north of the
river. She held the south bank up to Noqui and from there inland
along the latitude of Noqui to the Cuango River, whose southern
course was to form the boundary with the Congo Free State.
T h e final Angola-Congo Free State frontiers were fixed by
treaties in 1891 and 1894, but not before the indefinite nature of the
interior boundaries had caused several incidents. Portugal's claims
again were extensive, but with the dissolution of her dreams for a
trans-African colony, these lost some of their significance, and by
1891 she was willing to talk concretely. Following the Berlin Con-
ference, Leopold's agents zealously carried on the practice of setting
up strategic outposts and collecting treaties with native chiefs, tech-
niques by which Stanley and his lieutenants had given reality to the
International Association. T h e Portuguese government had not yet
learned the lesson of moving decisively in central Africa, and by
1890 the two nations discussing territorial rights to the Katanga,
where the Portuguese had been the first to trade and explore, were
the Congo Free State and England. East of the Cuango the enter-
prising Baron Dhanis had persuaded Leopold to create the district
of East Cuango. Portugal affirmed that Angola's frontiers had been
violated and sent a gunboat up the Congo to Boma. But by 1891
Portugal was ready to begin formal and — from the Belgian point
of view — realistic negotiations. The frontier established is the one,
with small modifications, separating the two colonies today, with the
southern courses of the Cuango and the Kasai forming the main lines
of demarcation.

What perverse fortune drove Portugal in 1886 to attempt to re-

assert the trans-African schemes of Manuel, Sebastiäo, and Sousa
Coutinho? Fifty, thirty, perhaps ten years earlier she could have
claimed and occupied the land lying between Moçambique and
Angola without threat of grave repercussions, but such a move in
1886 was an invitation to disaster. (Even in 1886 Harry Johnston
submitted to the British Foreign Office a map partitioning Africa,
in which he recognized Portugal's transcontinental claims.) Many
factors, some rational, some emotional, precipitated the plunge into
Mittelafrika. There was the very sound suspicion that the English
would drive up the continent from the south, and with the grand dis-
illusionment over the breakdown of the alliance at Berlin, there was
no longer any necessity for Portugal to consider the loss of English
214 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

assistance which might result from a conflict of claims. There is the

possibility that Portugal mistakenly thought that the articles in the
General Act referring to the establishing of authority back from the
coast applied to the ambitions of minor colonial powers. Pique and
vanity also helped turn the heads of Lisbon statesmen. Portugal con-
sidered herself humiliated at the Conference of Berlin, and in an effort
to boost national confidence decided to try the blunt tactics of Bis-
marck which appeared to obtain such impressive results. Portugal,
who had quibbled endlessly over a f e w acres of territory, now pre-
pared boldly to embrace a piece of the continent larger than the ac-
cepted areas of both Angola and Moçambique.
Viewed in retrospect, the proposition to take over the country
comprising most of Northern Rhodesia and Nyasaland seems a fanci-
ful blunder, but Portuguese diplomats were not completely ignorant
of the rules of African politics. If Germany, seconded by England and
associated powers, legalized Leopold's empire in the Congo, why
couldn't Germany and France do the same for a trans-African Portu-
guese empire? England had yielded on the Delagoa Bay question and
by early 1886 had not pressed a claim to the Shire highlands; she
might be persuaded by the unexpected boldness of Portugal's action
and the lack of any definite policy of her own in this part of Africa
to let the area go by forfeit. T h e two flaws in this reasoning were
Portugal's unhappy reputation as a colonial power and Cecil John
Rhodes. T h e intervention of Rhodes was perhaps difficult to foresee
in 1886, but not to have realized that the distrust she inspired as
mistress of African colonies was a pervasive and influential prejudice
in English opinion was a grave mistake.
Accordingly Portugal began to execute her greatest colonial plan.
For centuries the scheme had been the subject of tracts, speeches, and
projects; now it was to be carried out with all the vigor of Portuguese
diplomacy. Henrique de Barros Gomes, Minister for Foreign Affairs,
was the guiding force in the early negotiations. From May 1886 to
July 1887 omnibus treaties were signed and ratified with Germany
and France covering the various frontiers between Portuguese colo-
nies and those of the two powers. With France the frontiers of Ca-
binda and Portuguese Guinea with French territory were fixed with-
out undue difficulty. Germany, however, by virtue of her explosive
occupation in East and West Africa in the early 1880's, had come into
territorial contact with the southern limits of Angola and the northern
tip of Moçambique. Spheres of influence in East Africa, cause for later
friction, were roughly demarcated by the course of the Rovuma River.
In West Africa, Portugal was obliged to sacrifice to Germany her
 INTERNATIONAL DISPUTES 215
claims to the coast south of the Cunene to Cape Frio. In the treaties
France and Germany recognized Portugal's privilege to exercise "the
right of sovereignty and civilization in the territories which separate
the Portuguese possessions of Angola and Moçambique, without prej-
udice to the rights which other powers may have acquired there." 7
Barros Gomes proudly announced that Germany was committed to
the solemn recognition of Portugal's exclusive claims, and the follow-
ing year the government presented to the Portuguese parliament the
famous rose-colored map which swathed the interior of the continent
roughly between the twelfth and eighteenth parallels in bright rose-
pink.8
Portugal's African reputation was not good in the 1880's,9 and
England's refusal to recognize the transcontinental sections of the
1886 treaties was appropriate to the mood of the day. Barros Gomes
may have erred in not negotiating simultaneously with England, but
it is difficult to see what such negotiations would have produced. Eng-
land was now following a policy of territorial acquisition in Africa;
in 1885 Bechuanaland had been made into a British protectorate. The
direction this policy would take was not yet clear, but obviously the
Angola-Moçambique union could not be countenanced. T h e wisdom
of England's rejection became apparent two years later. " T h e im-
perial destinies of Portugal required a solid block of Portuguese ter-
ritory from Angola to Mozambique, while Rhodes and his followers,
with that originality which is characteristic of the Englishman, decided
that the destinies of Britain required a solid block from Cape to Cairo,
running from south to north and therefore, necessarily, making all
other nations' solid blocks — which ran from west to east — impos-
sible." 1 0
In his August 1887 memorandum to the Lisbon government, Lord
Salisbury argued that under the General Act sovereignty came with
occupation and that Portugal did not effectively occupy the territory
claimed and was not able to keep order and protect foreign life and
property there. Barros Gomes replied that the Berlin Conference spoke
only of coastal occupation, and that if it were a case of occupation in
the interior, German possession of large sections of East and West
Africa, Leopold's holdings in the Congo Free State, and even some
parts of British protectorates in the hinterland would be invalidated.
He added that the frequent use of the term, "spheres of influence," in
international documents was further proof that occupation, in the
sense of permanently established authority, was not a criterion for
possession. Finally, he summed up Portugal's historic claims in central
Africa. Portugal's foreign minister did not remind Lord Salisbury that
21 6 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

three years earlier, in the Anglo-Portuguese treaty, England had rec-

ognized Portuguese claims north of the Congo which had less justifica-
tion, either in terms of historical contact or of occupation, than those
made in the rose-colored map. But while Barros Gomes spoke of an-
cient treaties with the Monomotapa, ruined forts and factories in Ma-
shonaland, of mining expeditions to Manica, missionary work, traders,
priority, the scientific journeys of Lacerda, Gamitto and Monteiro,
and Serpa Pinto, England needed only speak of Progress, the catch-
word of white imperialism, to eradicate all of Portugal's pretensions.
A t several points in the ensuing negotiations a compromise seemed
at hand, but the intransigeance of the British missionaries in the Shire
highlands, Rhodes's gargantuan projects, and what Oliveira Martins
called Portugal's "stupidly patriotic insistence" frustrated any satis-
factory compromise and brought on the British ultimatum of 1890.
Barros Gomes was to learn that the use of forceful diplomacy pre-
supposed an authority which Portugal did not possess.
But the fundamental conflict between Portugal and England was
between the past and the future. Few people in either the colonies or
the metropolis had yet acquired the determination or sense of necessity
which would have helped Portugal to compete with other colonial
powers. "There was born in the world a colonial spirit, the science of
colonization, a recognition of colonial rights; whereas in Portugal
there was still the idea of owning possessions for the benefit of a bu-
reaucracy, of a f e w planters and importers, or of settlers of the metal
of the old-time heroes . . ." writes Eduardo Moreira. "Portugal had
been like some wealthy landed proprietor in Europe . . . who deemed
himself justified in exploiting imperfectly, or not at all, some portion
of the state he had inherited. . . " 1 1 T h e rules of the game had been
changed by players entering the game late, and no amount of historic
claims could prevail against Kiplingesque platitudes on progress and
duty.
In his memorandum of 1887, Lord Salisbury expressed his particu-
lar concern that Portugal should have laid claim to Matabeleland and
Mashonaland and to the missionary districts near Lake Nyasa. T h e in-
ternal situation in the two separated regions was quite different, but
as the controversy wore on, British interests in both became a com-
mon cause and it was events in the two areas which brought on the
British ultimatum. In the south, where Portugal hoped to restore her
former influence in Manica and lands to the west now under the rule
of the Matabele king Lobengula, the colonial party in Lisbon came
upon a fait accompli in 1888. Rhodes, who had three years before in-
fluenced the annexation of Bechuanaland, was set on the expansion of
 INTERNATIONAL DISPUTES 217
British South Africa into the plateau country between the Limpopo
and the Zambezi. Unable to convince his government either at the Cape
or in London to undertake such an enterprise, Rhodes and several
friends decided to work through a commercial company. In February
1888, Lobengula was persuaded by the missionary J . S. Moffat to con-
clude a treaty of friendship with the British government, placing most
of what is now Southern Rhodesia under British protection, and in the
following year a charter was granted the British South Africa Com-
pany for the purpose of operating and administering the vaguely de-
fined region. Rhodes's ambitions in Mashonaland, to which English
policy was soon committed, brought his Chartered Company into im-
mediate conflict with Portugal, who even before the formation of the
company had sharply reacted to the Lobengula treaty. She denied the
African chief's right to place Mashonaland under British protection
and dispatched in mid-1888 an expedition to East Africa to distribute
Portuguese flags and conclude treaties with other chiefs in the area.
In the meantime a crisis was developing in Nyasaland, where Bri-
tish missionary and commercial interests had been slowly growing
since the days of Livingstone. Portugal had never looked with any
favor on the English colony expanding in lands she thought were hers,
and from 1886 on she was determined to use aggressive tactics in
pushing her territorial claims. Foreign shipping on the Zambezi was
restricted and the importation of arms forbidden. Only when her
sovereignty was recognized, she gave England to understand, would
these frustrating tactics cease. While England was not ready to accept
responsibility for Nyasaland, whose only communication with the
outside world was then through Portuguese territory, neither was she
prepared to deliver British interests there into Portuguese hands. Im-
patient with the inconclusive negotiations, the Portuguese government
sent an expedition under Antonio Cardoso to survey the Shire River
and the western shore of Lake Nyasa and to implant Portuguese juris-
diction wherever possible through local treaties.
In October 1888 a tentative proposal was made to the Portuguese
government that a status quo in Mashonaland and Nyasaland be main-
tained. The British ambassador in Lisbon suggested that perhaps if
Portugal were prepared to recognize his country's rights in Mashona-
land, England would probably recognize Portuguese claims north of
the Zambezi. Such a possibility Barros Gomes would not consider.
He did mention the possibility of arbitration by an international com-
mittee, but Salisbury, mindful of Delagoa Bay, declined. Throughout
1889 the argument became more heated. Missionary societies in Eng-
land were vociferous in their denunciations of any scheme to place
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

the Shire region under Portuguese control. Rhodes, in London to look

after the founding of the British South Africa Company, pressed his
government to regard the Nyasaland and Mashonaland questions as
one and to let the company extend its sphere of influence to the south-
ern edge of Lake Tanganyika. Portugal's claims he ridiculed, being of
the avowed opinion that she should not even be allowed to retain the
coast of Moçambique.
The intensity of the situation had created in Portugal a climate of
opinion which made any concessions impossible; at the same time,
England's appetite had increased enormously in the whole area from
the Transvaal to Lake Tanganyika. In 1889 Portugal announced the
establishment of a new district in the province of Moçambique, its
center at Zumbo, which took in the northern third of modern South-
ern Rhodesia and the Luangwa valley. Such a move was designed to
complete the isolation of Nyasaland and blunt any thrust northward
by the South Africa Company.
T h e crisis was finally precipitated by a brush on the Shire between
a Portuguese expedition and the Makololo, Livingstone's porters and
their fellow tribesmen who had settled in the disputed area and dom-
inated the local tribes. T h e presence of the Portuguese column, al-
legedly a scientific and peaceful treaty-making expedition, was a defi-
nite threat to British interest, and in August 1889, the Makololo were
placed under English protection. T h e British Consul Harry Johnston,
who was also in the employ of Rhodes, warned Serpa Pinto, command-
er of the Portuguese force, that he would probably encounter trouble
with the Makololo if he proceeded further up the river. 12 But Serpa
Pinto, having convinced Lisbon that a show of strength was necessary,
continued up the Shire. T h e Makololo did attack the column and were
turned back with heavy losses.
England complained of aggression. Barros Gomes replied that the
shooting had taken place outside the limits of the protectorate and the
Portuguese force was only defending itself. He again suggested inter-
national arbitration of all boundary disputes. Public opinion in Eng-
land was now outraged by the murder of Livingstone's faithful Ma-
kololo by unprincipled Portuguese. Annoyed at Portugal's unchas-
tened reply, Lord Salisbury in January 1890 called upon Lisbon to
remove its troops from both the Shire region and Mashonaland and
ordered warships from Zanzibar to steam to Moçambique. This sud-
den resort to an ultimatum over an exaggerated border incident re-
vealed not only imperial impatience, but a basic doubt about the va-
lidity of England's claims in both areas. Nonetheless, Portugal's posi-
tive diplomacy came to an abrupt dead end. Faced with the naked fist,
 INTERNATIONAL DISPUTES 219
the Lisbon government complied with the terms and promptly re-
signed.
T h e reaction in Portugal was one of anguish and violence. A t
hardly any time in Portuguese history had the public taken such a
close interest in African affairs, but during most of the negotiations it
had been badly informed and led to expect the eventual triumph of
their country's cause. "From chimera to chimera, madness to madness,
we came to believe the romance of a rose-colored Africa, stretching
from East to West. . . Nothing could satiate our stupid desire to look
at pictures of these maps, with the result that, like the astrologer, w e
fell into the well." 13 A series of articles in O dia b y Antonio Enes,
later royal commissioner in Moçambique, reveal the anger, humilia-
tion, and self-pity that swept over Portugal. 14 Barros Gomes' house
was stoned in one of the bitter demonstrations against the fallen gov-
ernment not only for backing down before the ultimatum but for
having failed to occupy the disputed territory in 1887 and 1888. Eng-
land's perfidy shook the nation as it had not been shaken since 1640.
Around the statue of C a m ö e s — the poet laureate of European im-
perialism — the students of Lisbon took an oath to die in the defense
of Africa. Public subscriptions were raised to send a cruiser with a
squadron of men and arms to Moçambique to show that Lusitanian
heroics were not yet dead. T h e country was in no mood to compro-
mise, which made the task of the new government extremely difficult,
for only through compromise and concession could Portugal salvage
her African empire.
Portugal stood quite alone. Germany had no desire to disturb the
talks she was carrying on with England in 1890 and advised Portugal
to negotiate (by this date Germany had begun to formulate schemes
of her own for the annexation of parts of Angola and Moçambique).
France was polite, sympathetic, but offered only moral support. 15 T h e
first step taken b y the new foreign minister, Hintze Ribeiro, was to
press once more for an international conference or arbitration — a
step that led nowhere. A proposal that Portugal occupy the Shire high-
lands, create a common zone in upper Zambézia and Barotseland, and
submit the boundary fixing of Mashonaland to a mixed commission
was also turned aside in England where public opinion was as hostile
to compromise as it was in Portugal. In the meantime several small
incidents on the Shire further shortened tempers in both countries.
T h e expansion of the British South Africa Company in Matabele-
land and Mashonaland, however, made protracted negotiations unwise
for Portugal, since each delay meant the possible loss of more dis-
puted territory. In July and August of 1890 the t w o nations worked
2 2O PORTUGUESE AFRICA

earnestly on boundary settlements which would be acceptable. On

August 20 a compromise treaty was signed in London which set the
boundaries of Moçambique very roughly at their present limits, save
for the region above Tete and the frontier with the southern half of
Southern Rhodesia which extended further west. Nyasaland was ir-
retrievably lost. In Portugal the treaty was greeted with a new out-
burst of vehemence. The government resigned and in October par-
liament rejected the treaty. In England there was strong imperialist
sentiment that Lord Salisbury had sold out English claims south of the
Zambezi; among Rhodes's supporters there was talk of annexing Beira
and Gazaland. Nevertheless, both countries realized the necessity for
a provisional arrangement, and the unratified treaty was accepted in
November by Lisbon and London, without prejudice to either's claims,
for a six-month period.
In the same month tensions exploded in Manica as a result of con-
flicting claims between the Moçambique Company and the Chartered
Company. The area in dispute was the Manica kingdom of chief Um-
tasa (Mutassa) who had recently made a treaty with representatives
of Rhodes similar to the one he had made with the Goan captain major
Gouveia in 1873. Paiva de Andrade of the Moçambique Company,
which had been formed in 1884, entered the chief's kraal with a small
force and persuaded Umtasa of his error, but several days later the
Chartered Company's police force took Paiva de Andrade and Gouveia
prisoner and marched toward Beira. Another storm rocked Portugal;
a Republican uprising took place in Oporto, and the government dis-
patched a volunteer expeditionary force to Moçambique. Rhodes left
for London to convince the Foreign Office that Manica (including
Umtasa's kingdom) was indispensable for the South Africa Company's
expansion and that a formal treaty should move the frontier eastward
from the Save River to a new line which would leave the Manica pla-
teau in English hands ("The plateau for England, the lowlands for
Portugal"). 16 Meanwhile, Rhodes's agents approached the chief of
Gazaland for concessions in his kingdom. Confronted with the poten-
tial loss of more territory here and apprehensive that a clash between
the Portuguese expeditionary force and the Chartered Company's
private army would create another disastrous crisis,17 Portugal was in
no position to bargain further. In return for additional concessions in
the vicinity of Zumbo, she recognized the new Manica frontier, agreed
to freedom of navigation on the Zambezi, and promised to build a
railroad from the Rhodesian frontier to Beira. The treaty was signed
in June 1891, and final frontier settlements were made in lesser treaties
during the next five years. The agreement of 1891 was in every sense
 INTERNATIONAL DISPUTES 22 I

less favorable to Portugal than the treaty rejected the year before,
but now all passion had been spent, and a serious financial crisis occu-
pied the nation's attention.18
All that remained of the rose-colored map was a horrendous jig-
saw puzzle which, when finally put together, revealed a crimson strip
of British territory running north from the Transvaal to the Congo's
Katanga province and German East Africa. Progress and enlighten-
ment had prevailed, and for the moment Livingstone lay easy in his
grave. Few will deny that the material development of the Rhodesias
has proceeded more rapidly than it would have under Portuguese
management, but one cannot be sure that the emergence of African
interests has kept pace, for there remain in the Rhodesias today many
visible traces of a conservative white imperialism. T h e triumph of
progress over priority in Africa has not always brought corresponding
benefits to the African.
There was, and is, no doubt in Portugal that England had treated
her scandalously; her vanity had been hurt more by England's threats
than by Germany's bad faith. But the ultimatum of 1890 served a
practical purpose in Portugal, for not since the sixteenth century had
the metropolis been so vividly aware of the African colonies; the feel-
ing that something must be done united temporarily the many factions
of Portuguese political life. It was commonly agreed that the miserable
realities of Angola and Moçambique presented a challenge, since the
threat of appropriation by other powers did not disappear with the
treaty of 1891. It was apparent that exaggerated glories of the past,
though admirably suited for speeches and for inspiring patriotic senti-
ments, and ancient documents would not be sufficient defense against
another onslaught. For twenty years, Portugal was able to exploit the
energies and anger stirred by the ultimatum for the occupation and
development of the African provinces.

Financial problems were another factor largely responsible for a

continuing sense of crisis centering on Angola and Moçambique whose
ports (Beira, Lourenço Marques, Lobito Bay) were now being re-
garded by European powers as keys to the wealth of the interior. Eng-
lish imperial sentiment by the end of the decade was still strongly in
favor of annexation ("Surely it is high time that a nation capable of
managing the country and properly administering its affairs should ob-
tain possession and control, and it now devolves upon the Paramount
Power, with its pre-emptive rights, to complete arrangements whereby
the cession of the bay and the Portuguese East African territory should
2 22 PORTUGUESE AFRICA
19
be promptly made") , but after 1891 Portugal had more to fear from
her quondam sponsor of the rose-colored map. Already Germany, in
a dispute over the northern boundary of Moçambique growing out of
the Anglo-German East African settlement of 1890, had nibbled Qui-
onga Bay, between the Rovuma and Cape Delgado,20 as an appetizer to
the main course of northern Moçambique and southern Angola, which
would fall into German hands when Portugal defaulted on loans Ger-
many was eager to make or when a bankrupt Portugal would be forced
to sell her colonies.
Portugal's economic cares were complicated by the MacMurdo
suit. In 1884 she had let the concession for the construction of a rail-
road from Lourenço Marques to the Transvaal to an American finan-
cier, Edward MacMurdo, who formed a British company to build the
road. In 1889, as a consequence of the unsatisfactory turn of negotia-
tions with England — and also as a result of persuasion by the Boer
republic which feared British control over the road — the concession
was rescinded and the line taken over by the Portuguese colonial gov-
ernment, which then concluded an agreement with the Transvaal fix-
ing the rates for the Lourenço Marques-Pretoria-Johannesburg run.
Reparations were demanded by both England and the United States,
and although the case was submitted to Swiss arbitration, it was be-
lieved that a large award would be given MacMurdo's heirs. (In
1900 the Portuguese government was instructed to pay five million
dollars.) There was much speculation in the 1890's about Portugal's
ability to pay and which power would make her the loan and what
the compensations would be for such assistance. England's strained
relations with the Transvaal, who enjoyed Germany's sympathy, and
her unpopularity in Lisbon made the obvious solution — a British loan
— questionable, although in the early 1890's Rhodes made repeated ef-
forts to buy for the Cape government all of Moçambique below the
Zambezi or, at least, to obtain Delagoa Bay on a longterm lease. Ger-
many's offer to buy the railroad was blocked by British pressure.
Germany in this period was also toying with the possibility of obtain-
ing Delagoa Bay. The landing of twenty British sailors in Lourenço
Marques in 1894 to protect the British consulate during an attack on
the city by African tribesmen was interpreted as an attempt to inter-
fere with Portuguese sovereignty, and two German warships were or-
dered to the scene to protect German interests along the coast and in
the Transvaal. Neither England nor Portugal welcomed the intrusion,
although Portugal was led momentarily to believe that she had an ally,
one whose motives were not, unfortunately, above suspicion.
In 1897 the British government offered to guarantee Portugal's
 INTERNATIONAL DISPUTES 223
possession of her African colonies in return for a promise that the
Transvaal Republic would be given no exit to the sea except Louren-
ço Marques, whose port and railroad would be operated by an Anglo-
Portuguese company. England further offered to pay the MacMurdo
award and grant a loan on the security of the African provinces. Both
these proposals and one the following year providing the same guar-
antee in return for the temporary occupation of Lourenço Marques
in the event of war with the Boers were rejected. Portugal had not yet
regained her trust in England's promises, nor was she fully disabused
of Germany's intentions. The wisest course seemed to avoid financial
entanglements with either power. Germany was still convinced that
Portugal's perpetual economic straits would eventually force her to
negotiate a foreign loan, and in 1898 the Anglo-German Agreement
established, in a secret clause, a division of Portuguese territories south
of the equator "should it not be possible to maintain their integrity."
The German sphere of influence was Moçambique north of the Zam-
bezi and southern Angola. T o England would fall Delagoa Bay, and
she also obtained, effective immediately, the promise that Germany
would remain sympathetically neutral in the Boer crisis.
Portugal knew of the secret clause of this convention, which in-
creased her determination to refrain from accepting any loans from
Germany. But in 1899, German bullying of Portugal in Europe, where
she tried to back her into a financial corner, and in Angola, where a
small German contingent briefly landed at Lobito, created an urgent
need for alliance. At the same time England was desirous of cutting
down the flow of arms through Lourenço Marques into the Transvaal.
Accordingly, in October 1899, two days after the outbreak of the
Boer War, a secret Anglo-Portuguese pact (the so-called Windsor
Treaty) was signed, reaffirming the earlier treaties of friendship be-
tween the two nations and underlining the promise contained in the
1661 treaty that England would defend and protect Portugal's colo-
nies. In return, Portugal agreed to allow no importation of arms for
the Boers through Lourenço Marques and to permit England the use
of Moçambique ports for the landing of troops. 21 While the Windsor
Treaty did not directly conflict with the Anglo-German Convention,
which dealt only with the hypothetical disposition of Portuguese
Africa, Lisbon statesmen felt that they had gained protection from
direct aggression.
Germany's ambitions for the annexation of parts of Angola and
Moçambique were revived shortly before the outbreak of the First
World War. In the course of negotiations carried on by the German
ambassador in London and British Foreign Secretary Edward G r e y the
22 4 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

1898 agreement was amended and improved. Most of Angola, Sao T o -

mé, Príncipe, and northern Moçambique were assigned to the German
economic sphere of influence. The German ambassador regarded the
new agreement as much more advantageous to his country than the
old one.22 He foresaw no serious impediments to creating a crisis which
would result in partition. Grey stipulated that the treaties of 1898,
1899, and the present one should be published, a point to which Ger-
many objected, and war broke out before the treaty was signed. In
the course of the African campaigns both Angola and Moçambique
were the scene of occasional hostilities between German and Portu-
guese forces.
Not even Portugal's participation in the Great W a r placed her
African colonies beyond criticism, as this comment by Arthur Keith
in 1919 attests: " T h e weakness of Portugal and her poverty have ren-
dered it natural to assume that her territories must sooner or later be
partitioned between the two Powers who have obviously the best
territorial claims to fall heir to her territories in Africa, the United
Kingdom and Germany. . . It is idle to suppose that the Powers will
indefinitely acquiesce in any regime which does not open the territory
of Portugal on the east and west coasts to freedom of trade." 23 In the
late 1920's among the rumors to the effect that Germany might be
compensated for the loss of her pre-war colonies were suggestions
that the League of Nations give Germany a mandate to administer
Portuguese East Africa and Angola. The usual references were made
to the backwardness of the two areas and an abusive native policy. But
the aggressive tactics of European imperialism in Africa had softened,
and no serious thought was given to despoiling Portugal of her colo-
nies. With the construction of railroads from the east and west coasts
into central Africa, the use of ports in Angola and Moçambique were
made available, with mutual economic advantage, to neighboring terri-
tories, with whom diplomatic relations have been almost constantly
good. Minor boundary matters have been settled amicably with Bel-
gium and England. One could still hear complaints about the lack of
initiative and progress in the Portuguese colonies, but these remarks
did not have the belligerency of old, and in the troubled, potentially
explosive political world of Africa below the equator, there was a
growing tendency for the white governments of the Congo, the
Rhodesias, the Union, and Portuguese Africa to find common cause.
It may well be that Portugal's greatest asset in Africa is today those
same neighbors from whom she once attempted to defend her pos-
sessions.
 IX

A N E W ERA

Τ HE period between the abolition of the slave trade and the ulti-
matum of 1890 was the transition from one colonial age to another in
Angola and Moçambique, from the traditional to the modern or, pos-
sibly, as a contemporary Portuguese historian has suggested, from
the romantic to the practical. 1 T h e transition does not imply, in spite
of repeated demands for Portugal to follow the example of other
colonial powers, any fundamental change in African policy; rather it
is the intensification of Portuguese interest there and an attempt,
given urgency by political necessities of the hour, to carry out historic
programs of occupation and development. It is, in fact, the continua-
tion of tradition in Angola and Moçambique which sets the two prov-
inces so noticeably apart from the African colonies of English and
Belgian influence. T h e outspoken policies of Enes and Mousinho de
Albuquerque, which sometimes do not seem to be Portuguese because
of their very bluntness, were unquestionably influenced b y the ap-
parent vigorous success of Anglo-Saxon tactics, but they sprang from
the aspirations and realities of the Portuguese past. T h e deliberate if
not backward pace of economic and native policies in Portuguese
Africa has always been as much the result of customs and concepts
hallowed b y centuries as of poverty.
T h e generation of 1895, those soldiers and administrators w h o
faced the task of reconstruction in the African colonies, well realized
that the problems were chronic and not brought on b y the events of
the previous decade. T h e y were also aware that the habits of neglect
and inertia which had led to the spoliations at the Conference of Berlin
2 26 P O R T U G U E S E AFRICA

and of the Anglo-Portuguese Treaty of 1891 could, if not corrected,

lead to subsequent losses of prestige and territory. In 1892 a district
governor of Moçambique wrote the Overseas Ministry that half-
measures designed to meet each new crisis as it arose were not enough.
For Oliveira Martins, Portugal's Cassandra in the fateful year 1890,
the situation in Africa was not hopeless. "If, instead of declaiming,
we face the colonial problem boldly and courageously, without poli-
tics and with a positive and practical spirit, it seems to me that sound
legislation and a sensible and foresightful government will be worth
more in the eyes of Europe than a hundred harangues against Perfidius
Albion." 2
Occupation of the interior, a reorganization of the provincial
administration, and a colonial policy consistent with the present real-
ities were the three compelling necessities of the 1890's. Although one
could not be separated from the other, especially since the new gen-
eration of soldier-administrators in Moçambique and Angola were fre-
quently the authors of treatises on colonial government, the most
pressing problem was for the conquest and effective military occupa-
tion of the interior. Not only did this first step promise to accomplish
what apparently was meant by the article of the Berlin General Act
regarding occupation, but in a number of regions African tribesmen
were now threatening Portuguese strongholds. A young Portuguese
officer bitterly summed up the lamentable condition of Portuguese
East Africa: "The province of Moçambique belongs without question
to the blacks who live in it; this is neither a sophism nor a subtlety;
right here in Lourenço Marques, in the streets, in the public squares,
in the homes, the preto is the one who commands." 3 While the military
and political value of the campaigns in the two colonies was thorough-
ly exaggerated by popular sentiment of the day, which desperately
needed a show of national heroics, and later by the spokesmen of the
Salazar regime, which has found it convenient to consecrate a hier-
archy of colonial heroes, the psychological importance of Portuguese
armed triumph over native forces cannot be minimized. At home and
in Africa these victories stood for progress and positive policies; they
meant that Portugal could now hold her head high with other great
colonial powers who were busily implanting civilization in the hinter-
land at the end of a rifle.

Warfare with the tribes of Angola had gone on sporadically since

the days of Paulo Dias de Nováis. The campaigns grew out of the
slave trade, intermittent compulsions to colonize the interior, the de-
 A NEW ERA 22 7

sire to punish a dissentient chief, or, on many occasions, the necessities

of self-defense. In terms of ultimate pacification they served no very
useful purpose, for in 1885 African hostility in the backcountry was
as strong as it had been three centuries before. In spite of a popula-
tion decimated by the slave trade and the superiority of European
arms, the Angolan held his own through most of the nineteenth cen-
tury against the columns sent into troubled areas. The two regions of
most persistent opposition to Portuguese penetration were the Derri-
bos (the country northeast of Luanda at the headwaters of the Dande
River) and the part of southern Angola west and south of Moçâmedes
to the Cunene River. The Dembos was in a state of almost constant
revolt after 1850, while in the south the attempted occupation of
Humbe at the end of the century was contested by the Cuanhama
tribes, some of the bravest warriors in Angola. In this period Portu-
guese forces were made up largely of degradados and native troops,
neither of whom distinguished themselves in the fighting.
T h e full-scale occupation of Angola began in the 1880's with the
campaigns of Artur de Paiva — Portugal's charge d'affaires at the Boer
colony in Huila — in the country between the Cunene and Cubango
rivers. On successive expeditions in 1885, 1886, and 1888 Paiva erected
strategic forts, the largest at Cassinga, and succeeded in establishing
Portuguese military authority to the right bank of the Cubango. His
expeditions had a more than local significance, for they were part of
Portugal's attempt to extend the rose-colored map across the Zam-
bezi watershed to Zumbo. In the same area Paiva Couceiro in 1890,
following the suicide of Silva Porto, descended the Cubango from
Bié, imposing Portuguese sovereignty in his path. In that year also,
Artur de Paiva led an expedition north from Huila to Belmonte for
the purpose of subduing Silva Porto's one-time friend Ndunduma. T h e
importance that the colonial government gave these campaigns of
pacification may be seen in the size of Paiva's column: twenty officers
and sergeants, five hundred and fifty regular troops and auxiliaries
(including Boers and formidable Damara tribesmen), fifty carts, two
Krupp field pieces, and two machine guns.
In the Humbe region it took Portugal twenty-five years in the
course of which she suffered several humiliating reverses, to establish
her authority. The fortress at Humbe was maintained by an inade-
quate garrison which had to have reinforcements from the north to
push into the surrounding country and subdue temporarily the Cuan-
hama. In 1897 an epizootic disease from South-West Africa infected the
cattle of the area. The African population refused to allow their cattle
to be vaccinated and massacred a squad of soldiers sent to convince
228 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

them. Artur de Paiva was again called upon to assert his country's
dominance and with a small army — more than one thousand men —
he conducted a number of operations to put down the unrest. In 1904,
however, Portugal suffered one of the most serious setbacks of her
African campaigns when an encampment at Cuamoto, located half-
way to the frontier southeast from Humbe, was obliterated by the
Cuanhama. Three hundred men, including one hundred and twenty
Portuguese, perished in the ambush. T o restore Portuguese prestige,
Captain Alves Roçadas was sent south in 1906 with two thousand
troops. From a fort on the east bank of the Cunene — which has since
grown into a town bearing his name — Roçadas demolished the em-
balas of the Cuamato region. T h e Cunahama still continued their re-
sistance, however, supplied with rifles bought from a Portuguese
trader and donated by the Germans in South-West Africa. Following
their disastrous encounter at Naulila in 1914 with a German contin-
gent, the Portuguese were forced temporarily to abandon Cuamato,
Roçadas and Humbe. Only in 1915 was the entire southern region of
the Huila plateau finally brought under Portugal's thumb when Gen-
eral Pereira d'Eça routed the Cunahama at Môngua, some thirty miles
west of Roçadas, and left the area sufficiently fortified to prevent fur-
ther uprisings.
T h e Bailundo campaign of 1902, which went beyond the limits of
Bailundo to involve a number of tribes on the Bié plateau, is often
regarded fondly by the Portuguese as the classic native war. This
means that the Portuguese punitive columns were organized quickly,
the Africans fought bravely but foolishly, every Portuguese soldier
was a hero, and, finally, that thousands of Africans were killed while
Portuguese losses were minimal. Since 1890 the backcountry of the
Benguela district had been relatively peaceful, although with the in-
creasing number of Europeans, many of them unscrupulous, frictions
had developed. The dissensions caused by the rubber boom and the
demoralizations of the rum trade brought the normally pacific Ovim-
bundu to the edge of revolt. In 1901-1902 native resentments came
to a head over excesses committed in the conscription of contract
labor, and the area of Bailundo was swept by a wave of murders, rob-
beries, and burnings of trading posts. The contagion spread beyond
Bailundo, and the Portuguese administration saw the danger of a gen-
eral revolt throughout Bié. A column from Benguela joined at Ca-
conda with the Moçâmedes Dragoons and Boer volunteers; these four
hundred men marched north to Huambo. A t a spot a f e w miles north-
west of the present city of Nova Lisboa, the column defeated a small
army of rebels entrenched in their rock fortress. A second column
 A NEW ERA 22 9

under Massano de Amorim proceeded up country from Benguela, burn-

ing African villages and scattering small groups of resistance. By the
end of 1902 the planalto was reasonably quiet, although for the next
two years the area northeast of Nova Lisboa remained openly hostile
to Portuguese penetration. T h e improvements made in native policy
by Massano de Amorim, who served briefly as governor of the dis-
trict, were not permanent. The contract-labor trade was suppressed
for several years during the course of an official inquiry — which led
to the dismissal of the captain of Bailundo — but by 1905 only traces
of the reforms were visible.
The Dembos campaign was the most trying one for the Portu-
guese in the occupation of Angola, principally because of the moist
heat and difficult terrain in this virtually inaccessible northern region
of the province. The Dembos (the word refers to the chiefs of the
area) were not primitive people like the Cuanhama. Living less than
one hundred miles northwest of Luanda they had been subjected to
marginal European influences; many had Portuguese names and had
constructed houses of a Portuguese type. B y the last third of the cen-
tury, the chiefs became exasperated by the extortions of the regional
captains major, many of whom were African soldiers appointed by the
Luanda government, and either killed them or chased them from the
country. A two-year campaign established a precarious position for
the Portuguese in the upper Dande country; nevertheless, in 1907 only
a handful of Europeans lived or traded in the area, at the sufferance of
the chiefs who demanded heavy taxes.
A haven for criminals, fleeing contract laborers, and white de-
gradados, the Dembos resembled the sixteenth-century Congo and
was an embarrassing example of the nonoccupation of Angola. In 1907
Captain Joäo de Almeida, who with Artur de Paiva contributed most
of the military pacification of the colony, made a remarkable journey
through the region which convinced him that the power of the chiefs
could be broken and productive lands made available for colonization.
Obtaining a thousand men from Governor Paiva Couceiro, many of
whom were exiles or convicts, Almeida moved through the Dembos,
engaging the Africans in a series of skirmishes from village to village.
As in campaigns in previous centuries, the main enemies of the Portu-
guese were heat, dysentery, fever, and the fatalities in battle were al-
most exclusively African. Within three years the Dembos was paci-
fied and the way to the Congo frontier open to occupation.
B y 1915 the Angola government could claim either the subser-
vience or allegiance of most of the province's African population,
although in 1917 it was necessary to conduct a small campaign in the
230 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

Moxico region. It had accomplished in thirty years what previously it

had been unable to accomplish in more than three hundred. In part
the success was the result of a determination born of necessity, in part
the work of a cadre of resourceful military men. N e w weapons like
the machine gun and new medicines for tropical diseases also contrib-
uted to the Portuguese victory. Of equal importance was that the
spirit of African resistance had been eroded by slavery and contract
labor; village leaders had been corrupted by rum-selling traders. Time
and the maleficent by-products of European civilization were factors
which contributed as surely to the outcome of the pacification wars
as did officers, drugs, and arms.

T h e state of affairs in Moçambique in 1890 was, if anything, worse

than that in Angola, and few Portuguese with knowledge of the
province contradicted foreign assertions that their country's domi-
nance rested tenuously on a f e w towns and scattered forts. Reviewing
the situation, Mousinho de Albuquerque stated: " W e controlled the
capital of the province on the island of Moçambique; we also con-
trolled the entire district of Inhambane; we occupied Lourenço
Marques and exercised a more nominal than effective authority in the
surrounding lands ruled by chiefs who were vassals of the crown; we
had forts at various points in the province — Sofala, Tete, Sena, Que-
limane, Ibo, Tungue, and a few more. This was the extent to which
were reduced our royal domains in Portuguese East Africa; in the rest
of our possessions in this part of Africa we had no authority of any
kind." 4 Another official wrote: " T h e Negro is absolute master here
. . . If we cannot dominate the Negro along the coast, how can we
dominate him in the interior? . . . T h e y say that the Negro is ruled
by an instinctive respect for the white man, especially the Portuguese.
But though this may be a lovely phrase for a speech, it is a cliché and
absurd lie." 5 T h e need for a rapid occupation of strategic parts of the
colony was more acute than in Angola, for although the boundary
problems had seemingly been settled by the Treaty of 1891, the
British South Africa Company still talked ominously of taking over
Gazaland and what was left of Manica.
T h e wars of the Zambezi, the invasion of the Angoche Islands,
and the frontier squabbles around Lourenço Marques had enlivened
colonial life in Moçambique during most of the nineteenth cen-
tury. Only the Zambezi wars could be called campaigns of occu-
pation, and even here Portuguese attacks on the undisciplined
 A N E W ERA 23I
prazeros and migrating tribes from the south were regarded as de-
fensive measures. That Portugal enjoyed any prestige in the interior
of the province resulted more from the efforts of a Goan immigrant
than from those of the tattered companies of Africans, Indians, and
degradados which sallied forth occasionally from the island of Mo-
çambique.
Manuel Antonio de Sousa, unusually known as Gouveia, had
come to Moçambique at the age of eighteen and became an itinerant
trader in Zambézia. He prospered rapidly and built himself a formi-
dable kraal in the Gorongosa hills. In a short while he held most of the
prazos south of Sena, and his army was the most effective fighting
force in the colony. These soldiers he usually placed at the disposal
of the provincial government, a favor for which he was appointed
Captain Major of Manica and Qui te ve and a colonel in the overseas
army. Had Portuguese authority in the area between the Zambezi
and the Púngue been more solidly implanted, Gouveia's ambitions
would have conflicted with Portuguese interests, but until 1890 the
former trader served Portugal best when he served himself. The line
of forts he constructed did more to check the invasion of Vatua
and Landin tribesmen from Gaza than all of the Portuguese columns.
In 1873 the chief of Manica paid him homage, and ten years later the
Barué tribes (in the area southwest of Sena) acknowledged him as
paramount chief. For his assistance in the final suppression of the
Zambezi prazeros the Portuguese government heaped honors upon
him, including an audience with the king on his visit to Lisbon and the
rank of commander in the order of Sâo Bento de Aviz. In 1890 he
was captured with Paiva de Andrade at Macequece by the Chartered
Company's police force; he had gone there to remind the Manica
king Umtasa of his 1873 vow of allegiance. In these last years of his
life he labored principally for the Portuguese government, neglecting
his own lands, which were overrun by several tribes. When in the
early 1890's he tried to restore his former empire, he was killed by
these warriors. With his death the Barué country and the lands south
of the Zambezi reverted briefly to their quasi-independent state.
Gazaland, Niassa, and Moçambique district were also almost
completely independent of Portuguese authority. The task of bring-
ing permanent order to the province, however, had to begin in the
south in order to vitiate the pretensions of the South Africa Company
and to protect the swelling commercial movement through the port
of Lourenço Marques, which was fast becoming the first city of the
colony. In 1894 Antonio Enes arrived in Moçambique as royal com-
missioner with vigorous plans for the occupation and regeneration of
232 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

Portuguese East Africa. T h e assistants he gathered around him were,

among others, Caldas Xavier, Paiva Couceiro, Eduardo Costa, Aires
de Ornelas, Mousinho de Albuquerque, and Freire de Andrade, who
formed the brilliant generation of 1895, the group of soldier-
administrators whose actions and policies have left a permanent im-
pression on Portugal's colonial philosophy.
First to demand Enes' attention was the situation in Lourenço
Marques. During 1894 a general uprising was sparked by a jurisdic-
tional dispute between the Portuguese military command and local
chieftains. The insurgent African armies attacked the city, chasing
its inhabitants into blockhouses, and were only repulsed by the con-
certed efforts of the police and sailors from Portuguese vessels. With
the arrival of an expeditionary force from Lisbon late in 1894, the
colonial government was at last in a position to mount a full-scale
offensive against the tribes which had so long beset the port. In Feb-
ruary of the next year, the Africans were badly beaten at Marracuene
(about twenty miles from Lourenço Marques) and their leaders fled
to the protection of the great chief Gungunhana.
For five long years Gungunhana had been a serious thorn in
Portugal's side. Chief of Gazaland (roughly the territory from the
Limpopo to the Púngue), before 1890 Gungunhana had vaguely
recognized Portuguese sovereignty and had permitted a representative
of the provincial government to reside at his kraal in Manjacaze.
More recently, however, he had discussed with Rhodes's men the
possibility of making his kingdom a British protectorate. Although
more inclined to intrigue than warfare, Gungunhana had an army of
sufficient size to discourage any casual Portuguese expedition into
Gaza, and for four years Moçambique officials fretted helplessly,
anticipating either the cession of Gazaland to the British or a mas-
sive attack on Portuguese positions along the coast. A f t e r the victory
at Marracuene and the arrival of the expeditionary troops from
Lisbon, Enes decided to test the great chief's power. Three columns
were dispatched against Manjacaze: one under Colonel Galhardo
proceeded south after landing at Inhambane; another under Freire
de Andrade penetrated north from Lourenço Marques; a third, am-
phibious, force was sent up the Limpopo. In August, Aires de Ornelas
carried an ultimatum to Gungunhana which demanded the delivery
of the rebel chiefs he had protected, annual tribute of about fifty
thousand dollars in gold, free passage for Portuguese traders, the
right to establish fortresses in Gaza and collect head taxes, and the
recognition of Portuguese authority. After much deliberation and
bargaining, Gungunhana declared that he was unable to accept all
 A N E W ERA 233
of the conditions. In early November, Galhardo's column of about
a thousand men marched on Manjacaze. At Coolela, four miles from
the chief's kraal, the two armies met, and in a forty-minute battle,
the African forces, variously estimated from six to ten thousand men,
were routed with the loss or only a few European soldiers. The legend
of Gungunhana's prowess vanished. Several days later Manjacazc
was burnt to the ground.
The final operations of the campaign Enes entrusted to the
cavalry officer Mousinho de Albuquerque, whom he appointed dis-
trict governor of Gaza. In December, on a daring raid with fifty
men, Mousinho surprised Gungunhana at Chaimite where he had
fled after the defeat at Coolela and made him prisoner. Gungunhana
was shipped off to Portugal where in Roman style he was paraded
through the streets of Lisbon before the admiring eyes of the popu-
lace. The Gaza campaigns had not only removed the major obstacle
to bringing southern Moçambique under control, but they had pro-
vided the inspiration for the support of continued military action
in both African provinces.
Although 1895 is regarded as the annus mirabilis in the occupa-
tion of Moçambique, twenty years more, as in Angola, were needed
to dominate the African population. Enes' successor, Mousinho de
Albuquerque, carried the war north to the mainland opposite Mo-
çambique island in 1896-97, hoping to occupy the interior in three
stages; but he was able to carry out only the first step of his scheme,
the placing of a series of forts along the coast. In Gaza the chief who
had taken the place of Gungunhana led various tribes to revolt in
1896. Caused by the apparent misconduct of sepoys in the Portuguese
army, this conflict was sharper and more prolonged than the brief
encounters of 1895, and only after Mousinho's defeat of a large
collection of warriors at Macotene did Gazaland submit to Portuguese
rule.
In 1897 the governor of the Zambézia district had to break up
various centers of resistance on the lower river in the so-called
campaign of the Sena prazos. As an extension of the same campaign
Azevedo Coutinho invaded the coast north of Quelimane to suppress
the troublesome Maganja tribes. By 1900 the only serious resistance
south of the Zambezi was in the Barué region, which had fallan into
disorder after the death of Gouveia. A haven for deposed chiefs,
criminals, and resentful prazeros, Barué, especially the Gorongosa
region, defied the attempts of the Moçambique Company to maintain
order. An expeditionary force of some three hundred Portuguese
under Azevedo Coutinho finally brought peace to the area in 1902;
2 34 PORTUGUESE AFRICA
the territory was then placed under the direct military administration
of the colony.
North of the Zambezi, the Zambézia Company with the help of sev-
eral government expeditions from 1902 to 1904 succeeded in extend-
ing its administration north of Tete and into Angonia toward the
Nyasaland frontier. T h e last two districts of the province to submit
were Moçambique and Niassa. In 1906 two columns from Mossuril
and Fernäo Veloso (near Nacala) reduced the tribes along the coast
and in the near interior. T o the south Arab tenacity in the captaincy
of Angoche, a trouble-spot for centuries, called for an invasion in
force; in 1910 a company of men under Massano de Amorim defeated
the sheik and his African allies.
The last large region of the province to be pacified was the
northwest section of Niassa, between the lake and the Lujenda River.
Here the hostile Yao chief, Mataka, had beaten off small expeditions
of the government and the Niassa Company. Four years were re-
quired to pacify the region. First the interior coast was occupied in
1908-1909; then a line of small forts was set up in the north along
the banks of the Rovuma to keep the Yao and Macua chiefs from
their source of German arms. In 1912 the main Portuguese expedi-
tion advanced on Mataka's kraal at Muembe (a f e w miles northeast
of Vila Cabrai). Mataka fled across the Rovuma into German terri-
tory, but the lesser chiefs submitted. Sporadic uprisings throughout
the province — a serious one in Barué in 1917 — w e n t on for a few
more years, but the Niassa campaign marked the end of an active
program of pacification in Moçambique.
More than in Angola the campaigns in Moçambique were of
primary psychological importance, for the skeptical eyes of England
and Germany were watching Portugal's attempts to occupy the
interior that remained to her in East Africa. T h e actual battles were,
in terms of white casualties, more like bloody squabbles, as High Com-
missioner Brito Camacho later observed, on election days in the
metropolis. Five Europeans died at Coolela, an equal number at Mar-
racuene, and in the Barué invasion of 1902 only one Portuguese
soldier fell. 6 In comparison with the Zambezi wars or the struggles
in Angola, these mortality figures were exceptionally low. The de-
cisive military action, however, saved the province from eventual
partition by England and Germany and brought to the forefront of
colonial affairs the famous generation of 1895, the circle of Antonio
Enes who served as Royal Commissioner of Moçambique in 1894-95.
 A NEW ERA 235
T h e men Enes chose for his staff, all military officers, were pro-
foundly influenced b y their associations with him — and with each
other. It would be a mistake to call men like Mousinho de A l -
buquerque and Paiva de Couceiro Enes' disciples, but the generation
of 1895 did find practical inspiration in his hard-headed policies and
absolute dedication to Portugal's colonial affairs. Through the various
members of his staff w h o later assumed responsibility for the ad-
ministration of the colonies the influence of Enes was felt in Mo-
çambique and Angola for the next quarter century, and his concepts
were elaborated and redefined in a number of important studies b y
the men w h o had served under him.
T h e list of Enes' associates reads like an honor roll of Portuguese
colonial history. Mousinho de Albuquerque succeeded Enes as Royal
Commissioner; from his tenure came the classic study Moçambique
(1899). Aires de Ornelas became Mousinho's chief of staff in 1896,
governor of the Lourenço Marques district in 1900, and Overseas
Minister for 1906 and 1907, during which period he was responsible
for the Colonial Reform A c t and the visit of the crown prince to the
African colonies. Freire de Andrade, Enes' chief of cabinet, was gov-
ernor general of Moçambique from 1906 to 1910. Henrique Mitch-
ell de Paiva Couceiro, hero of the Angolan campaigns of the early
1890's and Enes' aide-de-camp, became the most vigorous governor
general of Angola since Sousa Coutinho and was author of a number
of colonial tracts, including the influential Angola (1898). Eduardo
Augusto Ferreira da Costa was governor of Moçambique district in
1896, governor of Benguela in 1903, and governor general of Angola
in 1906. T w o of his works, Ocupaçào e dominio efectivo das nossas
colonias (1903) and Estudos sobre a administraçào civil das nossas
possessóes africanas (1903) are key texts in the new colonial ideology.
Pedro Francisco Massano de Amorim began his career in Moçambique
with Mousinho, not Enes, but philosophically he may be considered
of the same generation; of all his contemporaries his service in Africa
was the longest. A f t e r ten years of campaigning in the interior, he
became governor of Moçambique district in 1906 and subsequently
governor general of Angola in 1910 and of Moçambique in 1918.
Although the product of a decade of disenchantment, the círculo
of Antonio Enes had spiritual forefathers in Sousa Coutinho, Sá da
Bandeira ( " T o take advantage of the overseas provinces we must
not consider only what they are at the present, but also what they are
capable of becoming"), 7 and the generation of colonialists preceding
the Conference of Berlin. W h a t set them apart from the past, no mat-
ter how much their suggested policies may have had their roots in
236 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

the past, was the ultimatum of 1890 which proved to the new genera-
tion that former policies had been either wrong or ineffectual. Enes
and his followers had no responsibilities for these decisions, and in fact
they made it a point to abuse the Liberal governments for every
colonial failure in the nineteenth century. The Anglo-Portuguese
Treaty had now wiped the slate clean, and Portugal would, they
hoped, address herself to the problems of the African provinces with
new convictions.
First, there must be no politics in colonial affairs: at home and in
Africa the administration must be free from jealous intrigues, the
ambitions of selfish men, frivolous changes in policy. Second, the
colonies must be administered practically; if this meant free trade,
the admission of foreign capital, the open and systematic use of native
labor, then past prejudices should not stand in the way. The colonies
had to be run profitably, not for the benefit of a few officials or in-
vestors. The time had come to stop pampering the African, who
must be obliged to become a productive member of his society. At-
tainable goals must replace the extravagant dreams of the past, for
only by daily hard work would the colonies be saved. In an age of
supposed Anglo-Saxon superiority, the example of Rhodes was a
stimulus. More than Enes and his contemporaries feared Rhodes, they
respected him for his energy, his positiveness, his success, and it
seemed proper that the Portuguese colonies should be run with some-
thing like his single-minded ruthlessness.
Antonio Enes was a child of his age, a Romantic turned positivist.
Dramatist, editor, polemicist, he was a member of the Portuguese
parliament in the 1880's, and in the many changes following the
English ultimatum served briefly as Minister for Marine and Over-
seas. His interest in the colonies was of long standing, and from 1890
on Enes became the principal agitator for colonial improvements.
He was sent to Moçambique in 1891-92 on a special mission to deter-
mine administrative reforms. The report of his mission bristles with
the truth as Enes saw it.
Moçambique (1893) has become one of the basic texts of Portu-
gal's modern colonial policy. It is divided into three parts: a blunt
presentation of the realities of 1892, a thirty-six-chapter section on
proposed reforms in the economic and administrative organization of
the province, and a model budget. Enes' presentation is in itself so
succinct that it is virtually impossible to synthesize satisfactorily his
views on particular colonial problems. His judgments are consistently
pragmatic. Prejudice, tradition, ideals are all contemptuously swept
away unless, in Enes' eyes, they contribute to the welfare of the
 A NEW ERA 237

colony. He defended the Indian traders as a valuable segment of

the population who had helped keep the frontier open and stimulate
trade. In spite of everything that had been said against them, they were
honest and pacific, taking nothing from the state and contributing
to its treasury. Where they settled and traded were the future centers
of civilization.8 With regard to capital investment in Moçambique,
Enes clearly recognized the reluctance of his countrymen to invest
in the provinces. "Therefore I say and I repeat: the colonial ad-
ministration and public opinion must lose their fear of the foreigner,
their jealousy of the foreigner, when they deliberate on what to do in
Moçambique." 9 Her ports should be opened to ships of all nations,
immigration restrictions eased, foreign capital sought. Portuguese
fears of denationalization he considered grossly exaggerated. In-
discriminate immigration by would-be Portuguese colonists he held
to be folly. If farmers from Madeira found life difficult in the high-
lands of Angola, existence for them in the low-lying territories of
Moçambique would be intolerable under present conditions ("Let
the optimists say what they will, there still has not been discovered in
the province any region where white man can propagate himself"). 10
If unscrupulous English adventurers seemed to be prospering in
Rhodesia, it was because they possessed gifts of improvisation which
the Portuguese no longer had. Let only the immigrant with capital
come to Moçambique; let manual labor be reserved for the African.
While the colony remained impoverished the institution of the prazos
should be preserved in preference to large land companies. From the
prazo the state could obtain workers and a steady income from the
mussoco (head tax), but from the land companies with exclusive
rights the state gained little.11 Grants to chartered companies should
be reserved for virgin territory where only an organization with
abundant resources,could penetrate. Missionary work must be judged
in relation to its contribution to the province, and should be closely
controlled by the? colonial government. Enes realized the missions'
value in education, medical services, and agricultural instruction, but
felt that they should not be permitted to go beyond these activities.12
Each overseas province must have its own administrative code. Uni-
form colonial legislation which had been only a copy of metropolitan
laws was nonsense, for in each colony different problems prevailed.
Within the province various districts should be empowered to deal
with local conditions.
Nor would new laws alone be sufficient. New men would be
needed, honest, zealous, prudent men, cognizant of the colony's
economic weaknesses, prepared to suffer an intemperate climate, men
238 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

who understood the African's temperament and could deal with na-
tive problems. The new administrators must be given more freedom
of action, and their decisions must not be subject to petty individual
interests.13 Furthermore, it was indispensable for the colonial budget
to be drawn up by the governor general and his staff for approval
by the Overseas Ministry instead of being burdened with an unrealistic
budget prepared by men in Lisbon with no knowledge of African
affairs. The various suggested sources of income (taxes, licenses,
customs, sale of land) are too extensive for presentation here, as are
the thousand other details Enes' fertile mind conceived for Mo-
cambique^ development. Many of his proposals were attempted by
later colonial governments; others proved impractical or were coolly
received in Lisbon. But the velatorio remains one of the most signif-
icant documents in Portuguese colonial history.
In one regard Enes was a traditionalist, although he himself seemed
to believe that his ideas were at variance with the philosophy of his
day, not realizing, or ignoring, the fact that the Liberal legislation
he attacked had little or no reality in Moçambique. Enes was a
forthright racist, and what he says about the African and his place
in the colonies is a truism long accepted by most Portuguese colo-
nialists. His views on the dignity of labor for the savage and the no-
tion that through work he is led into the paths of a superior civiliza-
tion were concepts espoused by Spanish and Portuguese defenders of
slavery from the earliest days of discovery and conquest and in the
nineteenth century reasserted by most positivistic champions of the
philosophy of the white man's burden. Although Enes' remarks on
native policy have more recently been clothed in ambiguous and
humanitarian language, there is no real contradiction today between
his views and those of the spokesmen for the New State who regard
Enes as one of Portugal's foremost colonial statesmen.
With his characteristic honesty, Enes wrote: "It is true that the
generous soul of Wilberforce has not transmigrated into my body,
but I don't believe that I have in my veins the blood of a slaver; I
even feel an inner fondness for the Negro, this big child, instinctively
bad like all children — may all mothers forgive me! — although
docile and sincere. I do not consider him something to be exterminated
because of the necessity for the expansion of the white race, al-
though I may believe in natural inferiority. Still I do not understand
by what moral or legal doctrine our metropolitan legislators can
justify their scruples in not obliging the half-savage African, innocent
or criminal, free or captive, to work for himself and his society, to
be forced to work when he refuses to do so voluntarily . . ." 14 Else-
 A N E W ERA 239
where, Enes wrote: "If we do not learn how, or if we refuse, to make
the Negro work and cannot take advantage of his work, within a
short while we will be obliged to abandon Africa to some one less
sentimental and more utilitarian than we, less doctrinaire in legis-
lating and more practical in administrating: and our final abandon-
ment will not even benefit the native, because Portugal is, and will
continue to be after imposing the obligation to work, the most
benign and humanitarian sovereign of all those who have raised their
flag over the African continent." 15
The importance of Antonio Enes is the importance of a doctrine.
The importance of Mousinho de Albuquerque is the importance of
a colonial hero. Mousinho's Moçambique is a more impassioned con-
tinuation of Enes' relatório and an account of his commissionership.
Mousinho had few original thoughts on overseas problems. But his
personality, aristocratic, stern, seemingly touched with the prophetic
insight of the sixteenth-century Albuquerque, made him the most
acclaimed Portuguese of his day. Quite apart from his dedication to
the abstractions of duty and his mystical nationalism, qualities which
have endeared him to the Salazar regime, Mousinho was more than a
man on a horse. For Portugal he was the living link with the nation's
past, a figure from another, more brilliant century who appeared
miraculously in an age of Anglo-Saxon superiority to revive the his-
toric Lusitanian values. Like Prince Henry, Afonso de Albuquerque,
Pombal, men whom he resembles in so many respects, Mousinho
seemed to give heroic direction to the necessities and aspirations of
his age. His military campaigns were frontier scuffles and as an ad-
ministrator he followed the lead of Enes, but in giving his country
an illusion of greatness in a crucial hour, his contribution was almost
without equal in Portuguese history.
Mousinho came naturally to the role. Born of a family tracing
its ancestry back six hundred years to a bastard son of King Dinis,
Joaquim Augusto Mousinho de Albuquerque grew up in a monarchal
household which believed that moral force and prestige disappeared
from Portugal with the revolution of 1820. It is completely in char-
acter for him to write of the 1895 campaign: "For us Portuguese, the
task in Africa, at least, was to retemper the national soul, to revive
the spirit of 'Awake, my steel,' engraved on the Toledo blade." 16
During a two-year illness which caused his withdrawal from the
University of Coimbra, Mousinho became an ardent student of his
country's history, an exercise which made the present even more
intolerable. After several years at the royal military college Mousinho
embarked on his colonial career, first in India as a civil engineer and
240 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

later as secretary general of the colony. In 1890 he was governor of

the Lourenço Marques district.
With his appointment to Enes' staff, Mousinho became the man
of the hour and the inevitable choice to succeed Enes. As Royal
Commissioner in 1896-97 he discovered that he no longer possessed
the freedom of action he enjoyed as a cavalry officer. Considering
himself thwarted in his plans for the occupation of the province ana
in extending the reform begun by Enes, Mousinho returned to Lisbon
to press for financial and legislative support. After being borne in the
royal galley from his ship to the shore of the Tagus where the royal
family waited to embrace him, he was received with near hysteria
throughout the country. But still he found it difficult to obtain from
his government the extraordinary powers he sought. Feeling that he
had finally convinced the Overseas Ministry, he sailed for Mo-
cambique, but shortly after his arrival a decree of July 7, 1898,
clipped much of his power as royal commissioner. Mousinho de-
manded that the decree be revoked or his resignation accepted. Men
in the government whom Mousinho had scornfully dismissed as in-
significant politicians and who feared his ambitions worked to see
that the resignation was accepted. If enthusiasm for the hero had
cooled in the government, he retained his popularity with the crown
and the people, and on his return he was named tutor and counselor
to the prince Dom Luís. In this post Mousinho's supreme arrogance
increased the attacks upon him, which were eventually taken up by
opposition newspapers. Whether he was rebuked by Luis for his
cavalier behavior is uncertain, but during a fit of advanced de-
spondency in 1902, Mousinho shot himself."
Mousinho's authoritarian temperament is evident on every page
of his Moçambique. In Lisbon's colonial policies of the early 1890's
he saw only an extension of past idiocies, which he scorchingly de-
scribed in this, the work's most quoted passage:

The administrative processes by which our colonies have been gov-

erned, or rather, disgraced, may be summed up as conventions and fictions.
Vast territories conventionally ours where we exerted absolutely no influ-
ence; powerful chiefs tied to the Portuguese crown by fictitious vassal-
age; a system of government conventionally liberal in which improvised
citizens elected in sham voting a fictitious deputy already designated by
the minister, as unknown as he was uninstructed in the country he repre-
sented; conventional municipalities where there were no decently eligible
town councilors . . . reserve officers without a reserve; battalions and
companies without officers or soldiers; professors without schools and
 A NEW ERA 24I
schools without pupils; missions without missionaries; priests without
churches and churches without parishioners; even a medical service al-
most without doctors . . . And in the news that reached Europe not in-
frequently were mentioned glorious battles in which not a single Portu-
guese soldier had taken part, auxiliary troops of steadfast loyalty who on
the following day were declared rebels, notable patriots whose souls
worthy of ancient heroes were contained in the sooty bodies of black
bandits and mulattoes . . . And on top of all this, majors and colonels
and commanders, endless officers, bulky reports, countless laws, many de-
crees, a hundred unworkable regulations. Words, words, words. 18

Such was the state of Moçambique in Mousinho's eyes. T h e solu-

tion he envisaged was that of Enes: direct forceful action and a policy
designed specifically for the colonies, not a bastardization of a
metropolitan administrative system. T o the accusation that he planned
to establish an autocracy in Moçambique, he replied that no one was
more desirous than he of setting up a civil administration in the
colony. But, he asked pointedly, what purpose did roads, a rail sys-
tem, ports, commerce, agriculture serve if they were at the mercy
of every native uprising. " M y greatest goal is to establish royal au-
thority throughout the province and to put an end once and for all
to the drove of native captains and other protected potentates." 19
T o defend his requests for additional appropriations, he wrote,
"These constitute my last attempt to obtain the indispensable means
to make [Moçambique] a province which will not bring shame to
my country, to the class I represent, and to my own name." 2 0
Mousinho was more cautious than Enes about the introduction of
foreign capital into the colony, fearing that Portugal might com-
promise her own economic position. And in the rejuvenation of
Moçambique he felt that the missionary could play a more vital role
and should be permitted a wider scope of action than Enes prescribed.
H e deplored the restrictions that had been placed on religious orders
at a critical time in Moçambique's history. Protestant missionaries,
however, especially the English and Swiss, represented a danger to
national interests with their theories of equality and their support of
the African in all his quarrels with the European. Such notions of
equality for the African Mousinho flatly asserted to be twaddle. T o
pamper the African, to treat him well, was to make him believe that
the Portuguese feared him, for the African understood no authority
not imposed by force. T h e territories of the great chiefs should be
divided among smaller less powerful chiefs, none of them strong
enough to threaten either his neighbor or the white community. Dis-
242 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

respect of Portuguese rule had to be pitilessly punished.21 Needless

to say, Mousinho's views on obligatory labor were somewhat more
conservative than those of Enes.

It was apparent to the generation of 1895 that to civilize the

African provinces new administrative molds were needed. Armed
occupation must be followed by civil government; the remnants of
the ancient captaincies and the military commands over the regions
of the interior had to be replaced by civil circumscriptions, and all
entrenched colonial servants, Enes wrote, must adapt themselves to
the spirit of reform or give up their posts. The first circumscriptions
were established by Enes in 1895 in territories of the crown in the
Lourenço Marques district, but not until 1907, following the ad-
ministrative reorganization of the Colonial Reform Act, was most
of Moçambique organized into circumscriptions — in those parts of
the province where resistance to the Portuguese had been crushed.
The system was not fully implemented in Angola until 1911.
The details of the proposed colonial organization are most clearly
defined in Eduardo Costa's Estudos sobre a administraçào civil das
provincias ultramarinas, a report submitted to the Colonial Congress
of 1901. Costa's work is the basic study for the administrative re-
forms carried out in the African provinces in the twentieth century.
His proposals, an elaboration of Enes' concepts, are the bases of
present-day administration in Portuguese East and West Africa. Like
Enes and Mousinho, Costa argued the need for decentralization, more
autonomy for the colonies; the metropolitan government should have
the power to inspect and regulate, the final right to approve or dis-
approve, but all essential matters of managing the provinces should
be reserved for the local governments. What Enes and Costa sought
above all else was the authority to initiate polices and make major
decisions on matters of a local nature. The enhanced authority, legis-
lative as well as executive, should be given to the provincial governors
and their staffs, which would represent all classes and interests. The
governor and lesser officials must be chosen for their experience,
abilities, and probity. The existence of a local assembly Costa re-
garded as a grave inconvenience for the efficient operation of the
colonies, given the backward state of their population.
Costa's contribution was not the discussion of the decentraliza-
tion of the colonies, however; it was his perfecting the circum-
scription into a workable unit of colonial government, for with the
serious occupation, or reoccupation, of the interior, the necessity for
 A N E W ERA 243

a firm control over native affairs seemed of first importance to the

Portuguese. 22 Costa immediately disposes of any thoughts of equality
for the African, pointing out that legal equality frequently produces
the greatest inequality in practice. There must be two administrative
statutes, one African and the other European, and the native code
should vary from province to province and, where necessary, from
region to region. Each district of the province should be divided into
a varying number of circumscriptions, and the administrators of these
areas must be for the native peoples administrative, judicial, and mili-
tary authority at the same time, since the savage mind, according
to Costa, does not accept any division in supreme authority. The
administrador — in many respects a modern projection of the pater
familias embodied in men like Silva Porto, the seventeenth-century
prazero, and the responsible captain major —- was a typically Portu-
guese creation; he was in effect a paramount white chief over the
lesser chiefs and villagers in the circunscriçao. Costa's policy implies
no encouragement of tribal government; on the contrary, it envisions
its eventual disappearance and the emergence of a single Pan-Portu-
guese community. The administrator was to be a more authoritarian
figure than the British District Officer. According to Costa, "His
purely administrative functions are very different from those of a
metropolitan administrator, because, in addition to police and civil
administrative services, he is charged with an important political mis-
sion, which is to maintain good relations with the native chiefs of the
circunscriçao, to assure their obedience and tranquillity, to intervene
in their disputes over boundaries, rights of succession, and other
complaints, in a word to acquire over his charges a dominating and
respected influence." 23 Appointed by the governor general of the
province, the administrator was responsible as well to the governor
of his district — also an appointee of the governor general. In theory,
anyone in the circumscription contesting his decisions had appeal to
the same quarters, but the almost absolute local power wielded by
the Portuguese proconsul made such appeals impractical. That the
proposed system was despotic, Costa admitted, but only in this way
could it provide "a just, humanitarian, and civilizing tutelage" for
the conquered tribes of Portuguese Africa.
Among the members of the generation most responsible for the
practical implementation of the concepts of Enes and Costa were
Aires de Ornelas and Paiva Couceiro, both avowed monarchists who
shared Mousinho's contempt for bureaucracy and colonial policies
bound by legalistic—and contradictory — regulations. 24 Aires de
Ornelas' work as Minister of Marine and Overseas has already been
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

briefly noted. As an administrator and a colonial thinker Paiva Cou-

ceiro is the more important of the two men. His studies on Portuguese
West Africa, Angola, estado administrativo (1898) and Angola, dois
anos de governo ( 1910), are essential for a knowledge of the colony in
those trying years, although they do not differ fundamentally from
the works of Enes, whose practicality Paiva Couceiro shared, and
Mousinho, to whose messianic nationalism the Angolan governor
became more and more sympathetic. He had brighter hopes than
either Enes or Mousinho for the success of white colonization, be-
lieving that the development of Angola's agriculture was the answer
to the colony's chronic economic plight. An advocate of forced labor
for the African, he held that the system should not be spoilative and
must be accompanied by instruction designed to introduce the
African to the ways of the modern world. Paiva Couceiro was will-
ing to accept a moral responsibility for the African's future — pro-
vided, of course, that this was coincidental with Portugal's future in
Angola. The African people had their place in a modern Angola,
not as a race condemned to perpetual servitude for the benefit of the
European but as assimilated citizens in a Portuguese African com-
munity, enjoying some day equal privileges and responsibilities. Only
if this were the goal of colonial policy in Angola, Paiva Couceiro
maintained, could Portugal consider herself a civilized nation in the
twentieth century. Finally, Paiva Couceiro reminded the Portuguese
people of their imperial heritage which offered inspiration for a re-
newed dedication to colonial problems. If they should forget the
lessons of their glorious past and permit mediocrity to triumph
over devotion to country and empire, then the future of the Portu-
guese in Africa would be meaningless.
 χ

PROMISE AND DISAPPOINTMENT,

1 8 9 5 - 1 9 3 0

Χ ν the period 1895 to 1930, the year when the Colonial Act —
a statement of intent by the new Portuguese government — was
published and the African provinces became subject to the policies
of the N e w State, the present regime in Portugal, three problems
dominated colonial thought: consolidation of administration in
Angola and Moçambique, native policy, and economic development.
According to the emphasis given each of the problems, Portuguese
Africa seems to have passed through three stages during the thirty-
five-year period. First was the era of Enes and his followers, 1895—
1910, with its attempted administrative and economic reforms; this
was followed by the early years of the Portuguese Republic, 1 9 1 1 -
1919, and an increasing humanitarian concern for the African popu-
lation; finally, almost a decade of semi-autonomy and economic un-
certainties, especially in Angola, leading to the drastic controls and
a new centralization of authority in Lisbon imposed by the Salazar
government. But to divide the first third of the century into phases
serves only to indicate characteristic preoccupations. In fact, these
three unresolved problems had troubled the Portuguese for hundreds
of years, and they help to illustrate that curious timelessness which
even in moments of great urgency has seemed to envelop men and
events in Portuguese Africa. Crises, governors, decrees have been
ephemeral realities not seriously disturbing the colonies' measured
pace. This is not to say that Portuguese Africa, especially in the
twentieth century, has failed to show genuine, perhaps extraordinary,
246 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

material accomplishment or that colonial officials have been inatten-

tive to schedules, deadlines, and five-year plans. It is only to say that
from decree to fulfillment is a long, cautious, sometimes unfinished
journey in the course of which the usual temporal distinctions like
months and years are often blurred, often obliterated.
Of particular significance in the twentieth century was the realiza-
tion by the metropolitan government that the African provinces were
no longer untidy stepchildren who could be forgotten until they at-
tracted the neighbors' attention. The modern colonial mentality
which began with Sá da Bandeira's reforms and was later stimulated
by the work of the Society of Geography and the expeditions of
Portuguese explorers in Africa had been tempered in the critical years
of the English ultimatum. The vigorous stamp of Enes' personality,
Mousinho's overbearing pride, and the influence of both Aires de
Ornelas and Paiva Couceiro kept Moçambique and Angola upper-
most in public opinion as well as in the ministries of the government. 1
The importance given the colonies by Portugal's first republic is best
shown by the men chosen to be governors general or high commis-
sioners: Joâo Norton de Matos, Vicente Ferreira, Pedro Massano
de Amorim, Manuel de Brito Camacho, Joâo de Azevedo Coutinho,
men who were the country's most distinguished officers or statesmen.
Only by the late 1920's did interest in Africa begin to flag,
principally as a result of Portugal's own economic difficulties, which
reached a point of extended crisis, and of Portuguese Africa's
failure once more to fulfill the rich promises it seemed to hold.
But in the first two and a half decades of the century, interest in
the colonies was intense; possibly this was the age of Portugal's
greatest preoccupation with the African provinces. Issues and policies
became common discussion. Each week saw the publication of articles
and books on colonial problems. Polemics dragged on in print and in
parliament on the conduct of African affairs; whether the colonies
should be prepared for independence or should be drawn closer under
Lisbon's control, how to promote white colonization, directly or
indirectly, whether the African should be systematically introduced
to European civilization or should be allowed to follow his own
cultural patterns were but a few of the issues. Portugal began to
participate in colonial congresses with a vengeance and to promote
congresses of her own at home and in the overseas capitals. In 1907
Prince Luis Filipe was sent off on a tour of Angola and Moçambique
as a gesture of Portugal's solidarity with her African possessions. A
f e w years earlier, under the direction of the Society of Geography,
a training school for colonial officers, to be known as the Escola
 PROMISE AND DISAPPOINTMENT, 1895-I93O 247

Superior Colonial, was founded. Although not integrated with the

colonial administration until 1926, the school provided a center of
instruction and information for those Portuguese who desired to
participate in their country's overseas activities.2

The administrative changes which took place in Angola and

Moçambique from 1900 on represented, as Enes and his associates
had urged, the beginning of a transition from military government
to civil government in the interior and greater freedom for the
provincial government from the supervision of Lisbon. These gradual
changes wrought no miracles and the new order proved to be as con-
troversial as the old. Some critics denied that anything had changed.
For others the transition was slower than had been expected and was
not accompanied by measures sufficiently draconian to break with
traditions of the nineteenth century. Gomes dos Santos, writing in
1903, held that the most pressing needs were still for changes in the
selection of personnel and a program of colonial education. First, a
separate ministry for colonial affairs divorced from the navy had to
be created and entrusted to a man versed in the problems of the over-
seas provinces. The governor general could no longer be a bankrupt
or personally ambitious man who went to Africa to recoup his for-
tune or flee political embarrassment at home. The lesser positions
should be filled from a civil service roster and not from the horde
of clamoring office-seekers driven by desperation to take a job in
Africa. All colonial officers ought to be instructed in geography,
local customs, and administrative procedures before being sent abroad.
Finally, he argued that care and planning must precede all important
decisions.3 But seven years later there were f e w signs of progress.
Carneiro de Moura wrote in 1910: "Portuguese colonial admin-
istration has been erratic and empirical. Military governors follow a
pattern of colonial occupation characterized by violence, heroics,
and great expense. Almost all our colonial statesmen are former gov-
ernors like Mousinho de Albuquerque, Eduardo Costa, Paiva Cou-
ceiro, and it is not strange that they should favor a preponderance
of military personnel in the administration of the colonies and a con-
centration of powers in the hands of the governors. Nevertheless,
it is necessary to reduce expenses with an occupation more com-
mercial and educational than military and destructive." He went on
wistfully to point out that truly modern colonial powers tried to
develop their possessions for the benefit of the Africans and white
colonists, "while we draw up laws and regulations." 4
248 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

Nevertheless, a slow transformation was underway in Portuguese

Africa. W h i l e the first f e w years of the century were undoubtedly
anticlimactic to the previous decade in their lack of furor, Angola
and Moçambique made positive progress in the work of pacification
and in opening up the interior by roads and rail lines. In 1907 the ad-
ministrative reorganization of Moçambique was begun, a process not
undertaken in Angola until 1911-1913. Incorporating the concepts
of Enes, Mousinho, and particularly Eduardo Costa and giving jurid-
ical substance to changes already introduced, the reforms established
the lines of authority b y which the African colonies are, with small
modification, still governed today. N o t even the Republic's colonial
laws of 1914 and 1920, which made extensive grants of autonomy to
Angola and Moçambique, altered the fundamental context of the 1907
reforms. For the first time the responsibilities and limitations of the
governor general were clearly defined, and although his powers were
not as inclusive as they would be after 1920 — when the 1914 reforms
went into effect — they were greater than those of his nineteenth-
century predecessors and gave him a commanding voice in purely
local decisions of administrative nature. T h e regional powers of the
district governor in civil and military affairs were also expanded,
although at the same time the district governments were to be more
closely co-ordinated with each other and with the government
general.
But the heart of the legislation introduced in 1907 b y Aires de
Ornelas was in the administration of the occupied territories. O n l y in
a f e w places, around the larger towns of the province, was there a
sufficient white or civilized population for the concelho, or council,
system of government b y local officials to be used. T h e rest of the
province was divided, as Costa had outlined in 1901, into circun-
scricöes civis and capitanias-mores, the latter to be gradually replaced
b y the former when the local inhabitants were deemed sufficiently
pacified. T h e administrators of the circumscription, chosen b y the
district governor and the governor general, assumed paramount re-
sponsibility for the native population. In the Moçambique districts
of Lourenço Marques, Inhambane, and T e t e (Quelimane being under
the prazo administration while the Niassa and Moçambique companies
occupied the rest of the province), the administrator and his divisional
assistants, the chiefs of post, were virtually white chiefs. In a certain
sense the selection of an administrator was more important than the
choice of a district governor, whose conduct was subject to super-
vision and scrutiny, while the administrator was frequently in charge
of lands a hundred miles from a Portuguese settlement. Some ad-
 PROMISE AND D I S A P P O I N T M E N T , 1895-I930 249

ministrators were incorruptible and others were not, but the dishonest
or abusive administrator, isolated in the bush of Moçambique or
Angola, possessed infinite opportunity for harm in these early years
of the system.
In Angola pacification campaigns had gone more slowly than in
the sister province, and it was not until 1911 that the regime of civil
circumscriptions began to replace the old military administration in
the interior, and not until the government of Norton de Matos two
years later was the system widely put into practice. Nevertheless,
the advantages of the circunscriçào as a civilizing force were ap-
preciated by Paiva Couceiro in his term as Angola's governor from
1907 to 1910; through the military captaincies, which, he believed,
should not essentially differ from the circumscription, he undertook
to place qualified Portuguese officers in close and sympathetic con-
tact with the recently conquered African tribes. Paiva Couceiro
felt that through the coexistence of two peoples, living and working
side by side, the attainments of Portuguese culture could be progres-
sively introduced into the primitive tribal life of Angola. He was an
enemy of bureaucracy and its reports, plans, and recommendations.
Energetic direct action characterized his administration, and he set a
pattern which Governor Norton de Matos closely followed. But
where Paiva Couceiro had frequently worked at cross purposes with
the metropolitan government, Norton de Matos usually had the sup-
port of the Portuguese Republic's newly founded Overseas Ministry.
A man of enthusiastic and decided opinions on how to run a colo-
ny, Norton de Matos gathered a staff of administrators and district
governors on whom he felt he could rely to carry out his programs
over the resistance of the entrenched conservative residents of the
province. His circular directive of 1913 to Portuguese administrators
marks one of the most advanced steps taken in Portuguese Africa for
the emancipation of the African and established the circumscription as
the principal agent for Angola's regeneration. For a number of Por-
tuguese this transition came none too soon. As late as 1912, two colo-
nial theorists angrily wrote: "In our archaic process of colonial ad-
ministration we began from a false point of view, that it was neces-
sary to impose a military regime." Wherever a military post was set
up, extortions and violence were practiced by the soldiers and their
officers. Civil authority had to replace military authority immediately.5
The spirit of Norton de Matos' 1913 directive, Regulamento das
circunscricöes da provincia de Angola was contained in the Portu-
guese government's law for the administrative autonomy of the colo-
nies, drawn up in 1914. Drafted by men like Norton de Matos and
250 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

Ernesto Vilhena, author of the study of the Zambezi prazo, the bill
was based on the Aires de Ornelas reforms of 1907 and conferred
upon the overseas administration, under the general supervision and
broad economic control of the Lisbon government, the privileges and
responsibilities of local autonomy. That part of the bill dealing with
native affairs, apart from the continuation of a system of obligatory
labor, was inspired more in the Liberal doctrines of the nineteenth
century, however, than in the harsher philosophies of Enes and Mou-
sinho. But the Republic had done little to modernize the ponderous
machinery of Portugal's legislative processes, and before Angola and
Moçambique could make from the principles contained in the Au-
tonomy A c t organic charters suited to the personality of each prov-
ince, Portugal was embroiled in the World War, and the two colo-
nies reverted to a quasi-military footing. 6
In 1920 Angola and Moçambique were granted "financial auton-
omy and decentralization compatible with the development of each,"
in a series of laws later characterized by Colonial Minister Armindo
Monteiro as an abdication of colonial responsibility by the home gov-
ernment.7 In effect, practically unlimited powers were given to the
high commissioners — a title commensurate with the increased author-
ity — of Portuguese Africa. Colonial autonomy was in the air in 1920,
and there was a feeling among Portuguese statesmen that with the
work of pacification completed, Angola and Moçambique should be
permitted to develop their resources more or less in their own ways.
What ensued, however, was that the one-man colonial government
in Angola, in the person of High Commissioner Norton de Matos,8
brought the province to the brink of bankruptcy and that the gov-
ernment in East Africa passed into the hands of several high commis-
sioners who swung from the extreme of using their great authority un-
wisely to the other extreme of making no decisions at all. Certainly
the positive results in the two colonies were less than had been ex-
pected, although what the home government really hoped for in such
a short time from these underdeveloped areas is uncertain. In 1926
the colonial minister for the dictatorship, Joäo Belo, began to modify
and curtail the legislation of 1920. T h e Colonial Act of 1930 flatly
announced the necessity for solidarity and unity with Portugal and
canceled most of the autonomous pretensions of the African posses-
sions.

Although since 1885 Portugal was reconciled to the fact that her
African colonies were liabilities more often than not, each new Lis-
bon government hoped that they could be run profitably by changing
 PROMISE AND D I S A P P O I N T M E N T , 1895-1930 25I

a f e w laws or tinkering with the administrative organization. T h e

steps taken to grant them more local autonomy began in the 1890's
when the idea gained currency that competent administrators like
Enes ("What I am saying is that only with men, without one new
law or the changing of a single existing law, will the province be re-
generated, but there must be men to start and assist this regenera-
tion"), 9 if freed from intrigues and petty politics, could somehow
work a miracle. Portugal's own poverty, her economic and political
instability, her lack of industry could be ignored, perhaps, but what
of the equally sad reality that neither Moçambique nor Angola had
any visible material assets to make them truly prosperous, whether
they were administered and financed locally or from Lisbon? T h e
most a skillful governor could do was to bring an order and stability
out of which the provinces might make modest gains. This was the
key to the limited success of governors like Paiva Couceiro, Freire de
Andrade in Moçambique, and Norton de Matos in his first term in
Angola. When the ambitions of the governor went beyond the ca-
pacities of the province to absorb his programs, chaos followed; when
the governor was negligent or overcautious, the colonies, lacking im-
petus of their own, regressed. Whether the governor was a military
man, as were most of the governors of Angola in this period, or a pro-
fessional bureaucrat, as were many of the governors in Moçambique,
the results were generally the same. In a final analysis neither laws nor
men could work the expected changes in Portuguese Africa.
The divisive influences which Mousinho believed were responsible
for the low state of the African provinces in the next-to-last decade
of the monarchy and against which Paiva Couceiro never ceased to
rail made the job of the governors and high commissioners appointed
by the Republic equally exasperating and often fruitless. Brito Ca-
macho, High Commissioner of Moçambique in the early 1920's, wrote
that, "Intriguing politicians, those in the colony and those at home,
can easily create for the governor or high commissioner insurmount-
able difficulties, which keep him from realizing any useful work in his
administration." Whenever he left Lourenço Marques, his enemies
shouted in the streets for his withdrawal in the name of the province's
salvation, and on his return he found that his authority had been
undermined. "In every colony," he concluded, "there are always two
groups or parties who fight for the governor's confidence. If he leans
toward one, he has the others against him; if he leans toward neither,
he has them all against him. I prefer to have them all against me to
being the playtoy of any." 1 0
In Angola, Ñorton de Matos suffered similar attacks during the
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

same years. In what may be the most vituperative book in Portuguese

colonial literature, Caligula em Angola (Lisbon, 1924), Cunha Leal
accused Norton de Matos of being, among other things, a tyrant,
murderer, and a singularly corrupt administrator. He charged him
with closing down newspapers, chasing Protestant missionaries out of
the colony, and shooting his horse "as an example to all other dumb
animals." In such an atmosphere of distrust and antagonism only the
most resolute governor could survive.
If corruption existed, as alleged, in the highest echelons of the
provincial government, it was compounded on the lower levels where
the pay of the administrator, chief of post, or military officer was in-
adequate and the profiteering traditions of centuries hard to suppress.
A chronic complaint in Portuguese Africa until recent years was the
moral inadequacy of much of the personnel to whom was entrusted
the administration of the interior. Untrained in colonial affairs, sent
to dwell in an unhealthy region in which they had no interest, and
burdened with assorted responsibilities — legal, financial, technical —
which would have tested the capacities of the most dedicated civil
servant, many administrators gave up in despair and spent their time
collecting taxes and African mistresses and tending their gardens,
which were the admiration of the traveler.11 In 1913 Norton de Matos
emphasized the need for competent personnel, chosen competitively
from a qualified roster of candidates. They should be paid well, have
their families transported at government expense. Above all their work
should be constantly supervised, for under no circumstances should
the administrator be permitted to become "Africanized." 12 The effects
of his reforms were transitory in Angola, and in the 1920's comments
on administrative corruption there abounded.
In East Africa similar charges were heard. Moçambique's Jeremiah,
d'Almeida Saldanha, compiled lengthy documents of misconduct,
complete with names and dates. The most common crimes were over-
charging on the African hut tax, accepting bribes for furnishing con-
tract workers, and withholding the pay earned by Moçambique men
in the Rand mines; more sensational charges included the one that the
African girls' schools in the interior were often used to supply the
white population, including the administrators, with concubines. Sal-
danha admitted that there was much truth in Professor Ross's "libel"
against the Portuguese.13 Official reports on the province, like those
of Adriano de Sá and Viana Rodrigues, referred repeatedly to the in-
efficiency— and sometimes the dishonesty — of the administration
in the circunscriçôes.
 PROMISE AND D I S A P P O I N T M E N T , 1895-1930 253

A s an instrument of native policy the administrative circumscrip-

tions were hailed by Norton de Matos in 1913 as "the beginning of a
new epoch in the occupation and progress of Angola." B y 1924 there
were eighty-two such divisions in the province. But in the same year
Ross gathered information on contract labor in Portuguese West
Africa and discovered some administrators and chejes de posto to be
culpable of either promoting or closing their eyes to irregularities in
the contracting of labor in their regions. In 1924 when Norton de
Matos abandoned the high commissionership of Angola the labor
situation was little better than when he first came to the province in
1913. He still spoke with feeling of making the Angolan a free agri-
cultural worker, for "if we don't do this, we fatally revert to forced
labor, and we reduce the native in Africa to a condition worse than
slavery and we destroy all our noble traditions of justice, love, equali-
ty, liberty, and protection of the races we discovered," 14 but at the
same time the High Commissioner's ambitions for the material devel-
opment of the province obliged him to follow a double morality.
Forced contract labor — for the state, for the diamond company, for
the sugar plantations, for the palm oil estates — existed in much of
Angola, although small farmers and businessmen complained that the
supply existed only for the large companies. 15 For the collection of
laborers for these projects the administrator of the circumscription
was the indispensable agent.
Norton de Matos in 1913 envisioned the administrator taking the
place of the tribal chief, but using his powers wisely and paternally
to draw the African into the ways of civilization. More sympathetic
to the problems of the African in Angola than the generation of 1895
but less idealistically doctrinaire than the Portuguese humanitarians of
the nineteenth century, he was, during his first governorship, Portu-
gal's eminent example of the benevolent imperialist, firm in his faith
in the white man's burden. His 1913 circular of instructions to admin-
istrators of circumscriptions is a reflection of the efforts made by the
Republic to develop a new colonial mentality, to humanize the crude
repressions of existing labor laws, and to mitigate the exploitations of
the past. Written with the governor's usual candor, the circular re-
ferred to the administrative corruption presently corroding the work
of moral improvement and economic progress in the province and to
the necessity for the white man to maintain his prestige. The adminis-
trator was instructed to protect the native's rights, to insure his security
and his property, to treat him not as a recently conquered enemy, but
as a man of the same nation. T h e administrator's relations with the A f -
rican must be founded on mutual esteem and justice; his customs
2 54 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

should be respected unless they conflicted with national sovereignty.

The Africans should be encouraged to work for themselves as farmers,
proprietors, artisans. Colonial authorities were no longer to furnish
workers to private concerns; the worker must contract for his services
freely, and it was the administrator's duty to protect his rights (only
with state projects was Norton de Matos inflexible; where free labor
was not forthcoming, workers were drafted). To the anguished pro-
tests that arose, Norton de Matos made his familiar reply that the first
concern of the colonial administration was the African. In a report he
sent to the Minister of Colonies that same year, the governor stressed
the primary importance of educational and medical services for the
African if the Republic's program were to succeed. 16
Norton de Matos was dealing with a problem perplexing other
areas besides Portuguese Africa in the early twentieth century: he
was trying to find a standard of administrative conduct morally com-
patible with the exploitation of an underdeveloped region. For Enes
and Mousinho a practical colonial philosophy which rested on the
idea of a white ruling race and a laboring backward people admitted
no discussion. The African was to be obliged to work in the fields and
mines at low wages, in return for which he received order, justice, and
the privilege of buying manufactured goods. When labor was not
voluntary, it must be coerced. Nor was there any thought that the
African would progress through his labors to the positions of authori-
ty in the colony; he could aspire only to the spiritual benefits of white
civilization. 17 This was the prevailing, though not uncontested, theory
in Portuguese Africa in the early twentieth century and is summed
by Freire de Andrade: "The education to give the native must be,
above all, one which will make him a worker . . . who will contribute
to the progressive richness of the country. . . W e must not try to
encourage him to put in practice the fable of the bull and the frog,
in which the latter, trying to be as big as the former, blew himself up
until he burst, for we should note that although in the fable when the
frog burst he did no harm to the bull, this would not happen in our
case. The mäo de obra for agriculture, mines, and other industries can
and must be furnished by the native. But how can we keep him from
passing from a worker to a foreman, to an engineer, or, to put it
bluntly, from being bossed to being the boss? Such a result may only
be obtained by a labor law which, badly interpreted, will be called
slavery." 18
Neither Norton de Matos nor the Republic found any more lasting
solution to the labor problem than has the Salazar regime whose own
spokesmen belittle the Republic from time to time for its "well-in-
 PROMISE AND D I S A P P O I N T M E N T , 1895-193O 255

tentioned follies." But unlike many legislators before and after, the
Republic's colonial planners tried to evolve a series of programs which
would coincide with the necessities of the African provinces and work
toward attainable goals. Both Enes and the venerated Liberal tradi-
tions had their influence on the Republic's legislation of 1914, which
was to be the basis for the native assistance laws of 1921 and 1930. It
defined the civilized African, who could regard himself as a full-
fledged Portuguese citizen, as one who could speak Portuguese, had
divested himself of his tribal customs, and was regularly and gainfully
employed. This is one of the early legal definitions of the assimilado.
The rest of the African population were regarded as charges of the
government for whom special laws and regulations were to be de-
vised. An Office of Native Affairs was set up in Lisbon to administer
all matters relating to these charges. Thus the Lei Orgànica da Admin-
istraçao Civil das Provincias Ultramarinas reversed the egalitarian con-
cepts of the 1830's. At the same time, however, the Republic sought
to protect and assist the African. The portaría (a sort of accompany-
ing explanation) for the organic law stated that African workers had
to be protected from exploitation either by the state or private com-
panies. It also urged that infirmaries be established in administrative
centers and medical posts in large villages. The portaría recommended
that a system of public instruction be set up for the African as part of
an over-all program of cultural assimilation and a means of bettering
the African's social condition. Education for the African was to be
useful, training in crafts for the men and in domestic science for the
women. Administrators were to encourage native agriculture by
providing seeds and technical advice, and by seeing that the farmer
received a fair price for his crops. On these bases, a modified free
labor system, medical and educational assistance, and the opportunity
for the African to advance beyond what the Portuguese government
considered his backward heathen state, the Republic rested its native
policy.
In spite of inherent poverty in Portugal and in the colonies, which
made the most modest program seem ambitious, there is the good pos-
sibility that the Republic might have gained limited success in some
of its goals, especially in Angola where the dynamic Norton de Matos
shook the province from border to border. But the history of Portu-
guese Africa often seems to be the history of what might have been
and of what will be. The First World W a r postponed Portugal's
plans until 1920, by which time the momentum behind the reforms
had been lost in the numerous changes of government and colonial
ministers, and new goals, principally relating to the material develop-
25 6 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

ment of the provinces, took their place. The change is most evident
in the behavior of Norton de Matos — champion of the African's
rights and road-builder in 1913, road-builder and champion of the
African's rights in 1920. Other factors were also responsible for the
meager results obtained from the Republic's good intentions. Chief
among them was the indifference or opposition of the European pop-
ulation in Moçambique and Angola to any proposals which might
eventually lead to the African's emancipation. Many of the vehement
attacks on Norton de Matos and Brito Camacho were against their
reasonably enlightened gestures to alleviate the age-old abuses endured
by the Negro. Social assistance, contract supervision, efforts at as-
similation, all this was Lisbon's madness in the eyes of many local
residents who, though they may have considered the African as a child,
were never advocates of child-labor laws. 19 A second serious problem
was the want of trained personnel, teachers, nurses, doctors, willing
to work overseas in a questionable environment for a paltry govern-
mental salary.

In the attempts made during the years 1895-1930 to evolve a na-

tive policy, two problems — apart from the labor question — pri-
marily occupied Portuguese attention: education and alcoholism. As
a concomitant of the slave trade, the rum trade had long been a reality
of African commerce, and until the present century alcohol in one
form or another represented in most of Africa the chief import com-
modity; the Portuguese were no more active in this trade than most
other European nations.20 Officials in both colonies were well aware
of the ravages caused by the trade in rum and pure alcohol, even
though Mousinho urged that Portuguese red wine be introduced as
much as possible among the native population, arguing that Portugal
could thus dispose of its yearly surplus and could reduce the consump-
tion of German alcohol — which, he said, had a deleterious effect on
the A f r i c a n — in Moçambique. 21
In 1902 a law prohibiting the manufacture and sale of rum to
Africans was enacted — to stimulate the sale of Portuguese wine —
but district governors found the prohibition hard to enforce. Local
sugar growers now sold their sugar directly to the African instead of
the distillery, according to Governor Almeida Garrett of Quelimane,
and bootlegging became the order of the day. " H o w can we claim to
be a civilized nation when we adopt as a way of life getting our neigh-
bor drunk?" 2 2 In Angola, Cadbury commended Paiva Couceiro for
his determination in carrying out the clauses of the Brussels Conven-
 PROMISE AND D I S A P P O I N T M E N T , 1895-1930 257
23
tion relating to the sale of spirits in European colonies. Four years
later Norton de Matos, with his usual optimism, averred that "in no
colony of the world has so much been done as in Angola in the re-
pression of alcoholism. . . When I left Angola in 1915 alcoholic
drinks for the natives had disappeared completely from the colony." 24
When he returned in 1921 he was chagrined to find that the free sale
of liquor again flourished in the colony, a situation he says he set right
with another vigorous prohibition decree. This one, like so many of
the decrees promulgated by Norton de Matos in his demonic belief that
a new law corrected every form of abuse, had equally short-lived
effect, and in the late 1920's Alexander Barns — one of the few Eng-
lish travelers sympathetic to Portuguese problems — attributed the
poverty of the Angolan to the fact that the father of the family spent
his earnings on wine "which could be bought at most trade stores." 25
Frequently the wine was strongly fortified by local merchants who
as a rule disregarded laws designed to control the sale and distribution
of wine, such as restrictions on Sunday and evening sales. Many Por-
tuguese officials, whatever their other shortcomings, condemned these
practices; they realized that the only effective way to curb them and
contingent excesses lay in a closely controlled system of importation
and distribution, but such a step meant a curtailment of the colonies'
leading import and article of trade. These were stringent measures
which neither Portugal nor many provincial governors could bring
themselves to take, and half measures were not enough.
At the beginning of the twentieth century, the few schools exist-
ing in Angola and Moçambique were almost exclusively run by mis-
sionaries. The Jesuits, until their expulsion by Pombal, had maintained
a semblance of an educational system in Portuguese Africa, principally
in Angola. With their departure and the continued decline of the
colonies, instruction for African and Portuguese youth fell into a
state of grand collapse. Random efforts by colonial governors proved
fruitless because of the lack of teachers and local interest.26 The
Liberal regime made elaborate plans for colonial education: elementary
schools were to be scattered throughout the provinces offering classes
in reading, writing, arithmetic, Christian morality, teachers for these
classes to be recruited, optimistically, in loco; secondary schools were
to be set up in the provincial capitals with a faculty sent from Portu-
gal. No distinction was made on the color of the student. But in 1865
the Minister of Marine and Overseas regretfully concluded that al-
though the legislation "fulfilled an important service . . . local dif-
ficulties, negligence, and imperfect organization annulled or paralyzed
its good effects." 27 In 1873, 456 boys and 33 girls were enrolled in
258 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

Angola schools. In the middle 1870's there were an estimated 400

pupils in Moçambique's primary schools. A reader of the Boletim ofi-
cial of either colony for the second half of the century is today struck
by the pathetic inadequacy of instruction and student interest re-
vealed in the official school reports. A t Ambriz, for example, nine
students ranging in age from three to nineteen were in attendance in
1879. Mousinho, with his characteristic disgust for all of the Liberals'
programs in Africa, wrote at the end of the century that the educa-
tion system was nonsense and folly. " A l w a y s answering their preoc-
cupations of assimilation with the metropolis, they scattered along the
coast, and even in the interior, government schools where improvised
professors pretend to offer primary instruction to native children.
Attendance at these schools was minimal even when they were turned
over to secular priests. T h e profit derived, none. But, since it was
similar to what Portugal had, the liberal spirit of symmetry was satis-
fied. T h e schools were a fiction. . . A s far as I am concerned, what
w e have to do in order to educate and civilize the indígena is to develop
in a practical w a y his aptitudes for manual labor and take advantage
of him for the exploitation of the province." 28
Improvement in the first years of the twentieth century was slow
and erratic. In Moçambique about 1909, in addition to the f e w trade
and agricultural schools, there were in the whole province forty-
eight primary schools for boys and eighteen for girls, the greater
part of them run by missionaries. Mulatto and African attendance had
increased only slightly from the 1900 figure of 1195 (146 in govern-
ment schools, 412 in municipal schools, 30 in private institutions, and
607 in missionary schools). 29 In Angola the increase from 1900 to
1908 was by 15 students, from 1,845 African pupils to 1,860; these
attended 69 schools.80 In the f e w municipalities of the two colonies
the problem was not so great, because whatever educational facilities
existed were available to African, mulatto, and white students indis-
criminately. T h e task of bringing even a rudimentary education to
well over a million potential students scattered through the interior
was another matter. Neither the colonial government nor the Catholic-
Protestant missions could undertake the task alone. There was also the
need to decide what constituted the best education for the African
youth.
W h a t education should the African be given and w h y should he
be educated if he was to be only a worker? H o w could the African
be civilized without education? Should he be taught only the rudi-
ments of reading and writing Portuguese or should he be encouraged
to seek further knowledge? W h a t about trade and agricultural schools,
 PROMISE AND D I S A P P O I N T M E N T , 1895-1930 259

and did the African learn through working? Should Portuguese or the
Bantu tongues be the language of instruction? What was the role
of the state and of the missionary? Did Protestant missions contribute
enough to offset what was suspected to be their divisive denationaliz-
ing influences? These were but a few of the questions which swirled
through the air in the first part of the century producing argument
instead of action. Some of the questions are still to be answered in
Portuguese Africa today, but by the mid-1920's several facts and con-
sistent attitudes were discernible amidst the rhetoric and contradic-
tions. Elementary schools existed only, and inadequately, in the vicin-
ity of the missions and larger towns, most of the teachers being mis-
sionaries; education in the bush was nonexistent. Agricultural and
trade schools were deemed desirable, although only several were
established in each province, again in the cities and at larger mission
stations. Portuguese was to be the language of instruction (whether
the use of the vernacular was absolutely forbidden by the many de-
crees touching this problem was not altogether clear) as the first step
to nationalization. Protestant missionaries should be permitted to
teach, although frequently under conditions of supervision which
were nothing less than harassment.
The reports of the African Education Commission — which sur-
veyed African education under the auspices of the Phelps-Stokes Fund
and the foreign mission societies of North America and Europe and
visited Angola in 1921 and Moçambique in 1924 — gave a gener-
ally dismal picture of conditions in the provinces. The commissions
noted the hostility to Protestant missions, the practice of excluding na-
tive languages from the schools, misunderstanding and apathy in pro-
vincial government circles, lack of funds, and no encouragement of
African teachers. Not only was the present state of education in An-
gola and Moçambique backward, especially in comparison with other
colonial areas, but "observations in Portuguese Africa . . . offer prac-
tically no basis for hope of any essential improvements in colonial
policy." 3 1
The paucity of schools (Angola had no secondary education until
the opening of the Luanda liceu in 1919) and teachers was also the
result of indifference. Brito Camacho found that no one in Moçam-
bique took education for the African seriously (one long-term resi-
dent remarked that education corrupted the African by helping him
to read what he could not understand and that the only things the
African needed to be taught were Christian morality and how to
work), 3 2 that municipal schools, backcountry schools, and trade
schools in the colony were empty and the teachers incompetent. 33 A r -
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

guments that the African rejected instruction were not entirely con-
vincing. In 1895 Father Barroso wrote, "It is very easy to affirm that
the black man is rebellious to instruction and work; this is a banal re-
frain which by force of repetition seems to be an axiom, and it is a
lie; but it is a little more difficult to create schools for him which justi-
f y the name." 34

But could education for the African hold a very important place
in a developing concept of the African as a child who must be brought
up slowly to civilized European adulthood? This view of the African,
which is one of the keys to Portugal's modern native policy, began
to emerge clearly at the end of the nineteenth century. It was derived
from slaving traditions, which regarded the African as an article of
commerce and a working hand, and from moralistic defenses of the
trade, which conventionally considered him an irrational being (i.e.,
a child) whom slavery saved and Christianity (i.e., civilization) digni-
fied. Even in the mid-nineteenth century, concurrent with the Lib-
eral's policies of emancipation and the ideal of enfranchising the free
African with rights of Portuguese citizenship, there existed a segment
of Portuguese colonial thought which positivistically argued that the
infantile capacities of the Negro made the work of civilization a slow
one. In the writings of the hero-philosophers of the generation of
1895 this concept gathered authority and became a foundation of colo-
nial policy. The significance of the various policies formulated from
1900 to 1930, including the moderate aspirations of 1914 and 1920,
was that they reflected this paternalistic spirit. Thus when the authori-
ty of the chiefs was broken or dispersed it was replaced by the pater-
nal authority of the Portuguese who tempered their indulgence with
the rod and the hoe.35
H o w much of Portugal's failure to pursue productively an en-
lightened native policy, how much of her inclination to issue im-
probable decrees and evolve a meaningless colonial mystique has been
founded not only on poverty and confusion, but also on an uncon-
scious desire to maintain the past perpetually in the present? Was it
not easier, if not to exploit the African further, to exploit the sup-
pressed state in which he still existed? Contrary to their many pro-
nouncements on the subject, the Portuguese have never made great
efforts to understand the African or his culture; at no time was
this more evident than in the early part of the twentieth century.
What the Portuguese professed to understand was only his own image
of the African and his culture, an image which summed up the A f r i -
 PROMISE AND D I S A P P O I N T M E N T , 1895-1930 261

can's psyche in platitudes and conventional superficialities and made

native problems less complex and burdensome. His culture was rele-
gated to the limbo of curiosa and folklore. The Portuguese have found
it simpler to accept the African than to understand him. This is the
key to their practices of assimilation and miscegenation. If the A f -
rican chose to adopt the ways of the European, he was accepted more
or less without prejudice, if the Portuguese chose to take an African
wife or mistress he did so without shame.
As they found in a policy of paternalism a defense for their ac-
tions, past and present, in Africa, the Portuguese also began after the
Conference of Berlin to philosophize on racial equality in Angola and
Moçambique — although this was obviously not a characteristic of
Portuguese behavior endearing to the white supremacy disciples of
Mousinho. Vaz de Sampaio e Melo, one of the most faithful mirrors
of his age, wrote in 1910: "For Portugal the problem of miscegenation
in her colonies cannot fail to have the greatest importance, especially
if the colonial system we adopt is one of political assimilation. . . In
any case, however, miscegenation is the most powerful force of colo-
nial nationalism. Given equality to the European under the law and
admitted to administrative, religious, political, and military positions,
the mulatto comes to adopt exclusively the customs and languages of
the conquering nation, and they [mulattoes] constitute the most
profitable and appropriate instrument for the spread of these ethnic
characteristics in the native society, which they understand better than
the European and to which they are closer by the affinities of heredi-
ty." 36 In a strict sense mestiçagem never became a colonial policy,
but it was a reality to which Portuguese statesmen found it convenient
to give moral dignity and egalitarian significance.

Anyone familiar with the pride exhibited by the Portuguese in all

of their material triumphs in Africa — the building of a bridge, the
extension of a railroad, an increase in coffee export — is aware that
they still smart from a feeling of inferiority as a colonial power. One
suspects that the Portuguese would much rather talk of financial suc-
cess in Moçambique and Angola than of native policy, but in the ab-
sence of such continued success, they have frequently been driven to
emphasize their moral contributions to Africa. While it is true that in
parts of Portuguese East and West Africa astonishing gains were made,
especially in comparison with those of the preceding century, neither
province became the Cinderella colony which Portugal was led to
anticipate by temporary upsurges in its economy. Capital was reluctant
2Ó2 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

to invest in Portuguese Africa; mineral deposits eluded prospecting

companies; the uncertainties of world trade during the war and the
depression of the 1920's made agricultural ventures risky. Genuine
progress was uneven, and although by 1930 the façade of both colonies
had been changed by hundreds of miles of railroad track and bright
new towns like Lobito, Beira, and Lourenço Marques, which gave
manifestations of physical development, Angola and Moçambique
were foundering on the verge of bankruptcy.
Since the sixteenth century Portugal's optimism over the potential
wealth of Angola and Moçambique had bubbled up even in the most
calamitous periods of the colonies' history, and with the emergence of
a new era after 1890, hopes were brighter than ever before for the
exploitation of this wealth. Studies like those of Francisco de Salles
Ferreira, "Gold, Silver, and Coal in Golungo Alto and Cambambe"
(Lisbon, 1896), revived legendary promises three centuries old. The
enthusiasm was infectious; in the same decade the English consul at
Luanda, Mr. Nightingale, concluded that "there is no doubt that the
province of Angola is a very rich one." 37 All that needed to be done
was to transform a trading post mentality into an agricultural and in-
dustrial mentality. The tariff system should be overhauled, white
colonization sponsored, mineral surveys made, great land companies
enfranchised, the African taught technical skills, and a network of
roads and rail lines pushed into the interior.
It all seemed simple and logical. Somehow, the theorists of the day
were sure, financial marvels could be accomplished in the colonies by
a nation whose government in these years was passing from one crisis
to another. When early success was not forthcoming, the system was
at fault. "Our colonial economic system is very defective. N o one has
cared about the development of the colonies. . . In the metropolis
the general laws governing colonization are unknown; there all they
think about is obtaining favorable concessions which quickly enrich
the concessionaires at the expense of colonial life. Our tariff system of
1892, with its blind protectionism, is only concerned with making
various individuals and groups of people in Portugal rich. Various
monopolies, like the National Navigation Company, the National
Overseas Bank, and the Luanda Water Company, do nothing for
colonial expansion." 38 In fact, the economic transition was slow.
Apart from the monopolies, the great land companies — which did not
flourish — and the transit traffic through the ports of Moçambique
to the Union and the Rhodesias, colonial life retained many of its
traditional characteristics: petty commerce in the hands of a f e w
Portuguese traders, mulattoes, and Indians; subsistence native agricul-
 PROMISE AND DISAPPOINTMENT, 1895-I93O 263

ture; and isolated communities of Portuguese farmers and fishermen.

A f t e r the founding of the Republic, the campaign in the colonies
f o r economic as well as administrative independence from Portugal
intensified. Before 1 9 1 0 the national treasury controlled all colonial
expenditure and income. T h e budgets presented b y the governors gen-
eral were subject to Lisbon's revision, and the annual profits shown
b y one colony were often used to defray the deficit shown by an-
other. In each colonial budget were included the expenses of admin-
istration, costs of naval maintenance, and the upkeep of agencies and
institutions in Portugal only indirectly associated with the overseas
provinces. Reforms in 1907 and 1 9 1 0 eased some of these restrictions,
but not until 1 9 1 4 was the system overhauled and not until 1920 was
the new system completely implemented. Provisions in the new legis-
lation allowed the colonies to administer their own finances subject
only to broad supervision in Lisbon. T h e costs of administration were
reduced to those incurred locally, and the colonies were no longer
compelled to support programs beyond their frontiers. Most impor-
tant of all, each colony could keep any yearly surplus and was em-
powered to contract loans f o r the development of its resources.
T h e funds available to the administrations of Angola and Mo-
cambique came mostly from taxes and customs duties and from those
communication services belonging to the state. T h e taxes included
hut taxes, commercial and industrial taxes, various stamp taxes, and in
Moçambique an emigration tax on labor going to the Rand mines.
Modest property taxes and again in Moçambique, rent from the
prazos, completed the sources of direct income for the colonies. T h e
most important sources of revenue were customs duties and the na-
tive hut tax which, in Angola, sometimes constituted more than 50
per cent of the colony's income. In Moçambique the state-owned
Lourenço Marques-Transvaal railroad was a third important con-
tributor to the local treasury. In both provinces revenues were usually
just sufficient to cover expenditures, so that any large-scale develop-
ment program had to be undertaken on borrowed funds. T h e costs
of maintaining an administration in Portuguese A f r i c a were high —
the number of people on government pay in the 1910's, f o r example,
was a little under ten thousand in each colony — and most of the
revenue received went to its support.
In the early 1920's the two provinces, particularly Angola, began
to assert their financial independence. T h e prosperity of the war years
and the feeling that now was the time to push through the programs
of expansion which had been talked of f o r so long were the main
factors responsible. T h e provincial governments floated large loans
2Ó4 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

from the Banco Nacional Ultramarino. The bank itself gave extrav-
agant credit both to the government and private firms. By 1923 An-
gola was in a state of full inflation, resulting, in part, from the grand-
iose schemes of Norton de Matos for developing Angola, and the pro-
vincial government was running a heavy deficit. Denied a loan by Lis-
bon, Luanda issued its own currency, which soon became worthless.
The transfer of Angolan currency into foreign currency, chiefly
pounds, to pay for the orders placed by the government and private
firms, exhausted the bills of foreign exchange, and the price of the
pound rose to fantastic heights. Each year Angola's deficit increased;
by 1926, the most stringent measures had to be taken. As a first step,
the Banco de Angola was founded exclusively as a bank of issue. In
the next four years the metropolitan government had to assist Angola
in meeting her foreign obligations; this help was prefatory to a re-
newal of Lisbon's close supervision of Angola's economic life.
The financial situation in Moçambique, which through its rela-
tions with Union of South Africa enjoyed a more regular income,
was less volatile, but through the decade a fluctuating exchange and
the manipulations of speculators created an instability which had its
effect on the colony's development plans. B y 1926 the economic
situation had deteriorated to such an extent that Lisbon had to guar-
antee a loan of 100 million escudos to Moçambique. In neither colony
were the expectations of 1920 fulfilled, although port facilities and
communications were improved, especially in East Africa, and 1930
found both provinces discouraged and nervously facing a world de-
pression.
The continuing low productivity of Angola and Moçambique,
particularly Angola which from 1910 to 1930 had a trade deficit of
from 10 to 12 per cent two years out of three, was the cause of
lengthy controversies which sometimes had the effect of further stulti-
fying commercial life. There were those who believed that careful
surveys should be made of each province's wealth and capabilities and
long-term plans formulated for colonial exploitation. Others held
that Portuguese Africa was already overrun with planners and com-
mittees wasting their time writing reports when direct action — to be
subsidized by the home government — was needed. There were pro-
ponents of more autonomy and of less autonomy. Some saw the
colonies' ruination in the unchecked activities of foreigners, while
others lamented that restrictive laws kept out foreign capital. Much of
Portuguese impatience with African agriculture and industry was the
result of overblown expectations and of the apparent success of other
colonial powers on the continent. There was a disinclination to face
 PROMISE AND DISAPPOINTMENT, 1895-1930 265

the unpleasant reality that Portugal was a poor country and that the
two colonies were — for the time being, at least — equally poor. Con-
cluding his study on all of the Portuguese colonies, Elemér Böhm
drew the obvious conclusion: the African provinces suffered from a
want of capital and immigration and were mercilessly exploited b y the
metropolis. H e raised the question whether Portugal kept her colonies
only f o r reasons of tradition and prestige. 39

Certainly Portuguese Africa had less success in attracting immi-

grants than it did capital. Plans, polemics, and promotion schemes
yielded the same empty results as in the previous century. Brazil, be-
cause of tradition, its common language and customs, its expanding
economy, remained the Mecca for Portuguese emigration, as the ac-
companying tabulation shows. 40

Total emigration To Brazil To Africa

1908 40,145 36,262 15
I9I2 88,298 74,860 90
1916 24,897 10,002 952
1920 64,783 33*051 1
1153
1925 13,280 329
1928 27,705 189
1930 23,196 11,834 372

direct subsidy, local grants, and p u b l i c i t y the O v e r s e a s C o u n c i l

tried to divert part of this stream to Africa, but only a f e w Portuguese
workers and fishermen could be persuaded to face what they correct-
ly sensed to be the rigorous pioneer life of Africa. L i f e in Africa was
still hard and uncertain. T h e cautious Portuguese worker, though
diligent, was neither imaginative nor adventurous, and of the handful
that came to Angola or Moçambique most, confused and dissatisfied
over the conditions of the bush and small villages into which they
were plunged, returned to Portugal or went to live in the coastal
capitals. Successful colonization of Africa by Portuguese immigrants
demanded a constant campaign of education in the metropolis and
sufficient capital and foresight in the provinces to create a community
in which the immigrant could not only prosper but live contentedly.
T h e figures on immigration are somewhat deceptive f o r they rep-
resent only the number of Portuguese citizens who responded to the
government's colonization programs f o r the colonies. Other Portu-
guese, technicians, employees on construction and agricultural proj-
266 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

ects, professional men and businessmen, and civil servants took up

residence there. Of Angola's estimated 3,000,000 inhabitants in 1929-
30, perhaps 50,000 were white or mestiços. Of Moçambique's popula-
tion of about 3,500,000 m 1928, some 35,000 were non-African (17,800
whites, 900 Chinese, 8,500 Indians, and 8,350 mestiços). In addition to
the Portuguese the white population in East Africa contained 2,000
Englishmen and 500 Germans, Greeks, and other European nationals.
The non-Portuguese element of Angola's white inhabitants was lower,
but some Germans and Englishmen were attracted there in the 1920's
by the Benguela Railway construction and the large land grants of-
fered to foreigners. Both provinces continued to be depositing places
for degradados (for no other reason, comments Ferreira Pinto, than
because his countrymen were great believers in preserving everything
that was old and bad), 41 whose presence brought neither credit nor
gain. That crucial segment of the white population, the Portuguese
woman, showed a slow steady increase, but an equally vital segment,
teachers and doctors, remained pitifully inadequate except in the
cities and mission centers.
The growth of the colonies was most evident in the cities and
towns. In Angola the ancient ports of Luanda and Benguela, it is true,
seemed impervious to the transitions of modern progress, Luanda re-
maining, in Nevinson's words of 1905, "bankrupt and beautiful,"
while Benguela slept in the memories of better days, its importance
passing to the upstart Lobito Bay, whose bright new buildings en-
hanced Benguela's tireless shabbiness. But in the interior the district
capitals, Malange, Nova Lisboa, and Sá da Bandeira were all twenti-
eth-century towns, centers of commerce and administration for the
richest sections of the province. N e w little villages sprang up along the
Benguela Railway.
The wonder cities of Portuguese Africa were of course Beira and
Lourenço Marques. Lourenço Marques, boasting electric streetlights,
a trolley system, a modern telephone service, was more than a port and
colonial capital. With a golf course and the celebrated Hotel Polana
the former fever-ridden fortress was now an international tourist
center.42 Beira, though not so large as Lourenço Marques, had also
grown from a few hovels sinking in the marsh into a modern port city
of 2,500 Europeans and perhaps 20,000 Africans. Its wide streets,
parks, spacious villas, and native-propelled railcars gave Beira the
Anglo-Portuguese air so startling to European visitors. Both Inham-
bane and Tete enjoyed a renaissance, and in the north the village of
Nampula rose to challenge Moçambique as the capital of Niassa dis-
trict.
 P R O M I S E AND D I S A P P O I N T M E N T , 1895-1930 267

Slowly the complexion of life in Angola and Moçambique was also

changing for the African and Portuguese inhabitants. In northern Mo-
çambique and southern Angola the two colonies had untrammeled
frontiers, but modern transportation and an expanding colonial ad-
ministration now made the provinces semicoherent units of govern-
ment where before there had been only patches of authority in the
wilderness. Almost imperceptibly, perhaps, but inevitably the colonies
began to lose their heterogeneous personality and to become white
men's colonies, estates to be administered and exploited efficiently by
European techniques for the advantage of the European. The lines
of contact between the African and the Portuguese— in the cities
and in the embalas — which had often been imperceptible now began
to separate. Not only were Beira and Lourenço Marques European
cities, but in the interior the towns which sprang up along the rail
lines had at their core white Portuguese communities. The African
lived apart, in his village or in the city's sprawling slums. Still only a
tendency in the early twentieth century, this characteristic of life in
Angola and Moçambique has taken more definite shape with each
passing decade. The mass of the African population, of course, lived
as it had for centuries, in poverty, disease, ignorance — which Portu-
gal could do virtually nothing to change — its chief contact with the
Portuguese world being the necessity to pay the white man his tax and
furnish his labor.
 X I

T H E N E W S T A T E IN A F R I C A :
MYSTIQUE AND ADMINISTRATION

Τ HE history of contemporary Portuguese Africa is as much a

study of colonial philosophy as it is an account of administrative and
economic action in Angola and Moçambique. On how well Premier
Salazar's " N e w State" has been able to implement its involved and
intensely nationalistic policy — in still another attempt to narrow
the traditional gap between theory and practice — must be judged
the success of modern Portuguese colonialism. Certainly no Portu-
guese government in the history of the empire has worked so dili-
gently in planning and explaining its conduct overseas and in creating
a colonial mystique from the values of the past and the promises of
the future. The colonial effort which began in the early 1930's, partly
as an attempt by the Salazar government to revive, for political rea-
sons, an imperial consciousness, has been given urgent significance in
mid-twentieth century by the anticolonial fervor penetrating Africa,
since the Portuguese and the Afrikaner are the only white inhabitants
of black Africa who steadfastly refuse to consider the possibility of
some day yielding to the demands of the African population. Whether
Portugal will be able to convince the African in Angola and Mo-
çambique, as well as the Arab and Asian states who have replaced
England as major critics of Portuguese presence in Africa, of the
rightness of her cause is speculative, but for the present she seems at
least to have convinced herself. 1
The African colonies were but one of the problems the short-
lived Republic passed on to the dictatorship in 1926, and during the
next ten years the Portuguese government did little more than cancel
 M Y S T I Q U E AND ADMINISTRATION 269

most of the autonomy the colonies had received, institute stringent

economic regimes in Angola and Moçambique, and hope for the best.
But although Portugal's own economic plight precluded further
direct action, colonial legislation and theorizing cost little and served
to awaken a declining interest in the colonies. Much of this legislating
and philosophizing was, and still is, a synthetic creation designed to
bolster confidence at home and prestige abroad.
Paradoxically, at almost no time in their history were Angola
and Moçambique greater liabilities or greater assets to the metropolis:
liabilities because in those depression years they were a burden and
a drain on national energies; assets because they were a living link
with the past and formed the bulk of an empire which still made
Portugal something more than a small and insignificant European
power. Portugal, as much out of necessity as habit, was committed
to keeping the African colonies — which are now one of the
country's economic mainstays. N o aspect of the country's history
offered such abundant examples for nationalistic abstractions (Duty,
Faith, Service) as the empire. A succession of colonial heroes from
Prince Henry to Mousinho de Albuquerque, the Congo experiment,
the work of the missions, and exploits of exploration and conquest all
contributed to the reshaping of a Portuguese colonial mentality.
Angola and Moçambique were simultaneously live exhibits in a mu-
seum of memories and a direct challenge to the capacities of the
N e w State. Portugal was again determined to demonstrate — academ-
ically at first, through a barrage of legislation and publicity — that she
was capable of re-creating what her spokesmen held to be the glories
of her African past and to prove that the Portuguese colonial tradi-
tion was a vital and successful force in the development of Africa.
"It is often said," wrote Armindo Monteiro, Minister of Colonies
in the early 1930's, "that we Portuguese have the vice of history.
Some even say that we take refuge in the past to compensate for the
smallness of the present — thus obeying the doleful law of Empire
corroded by stagnation or decadence. In Portugal, however, we now
feel that we are so much the legitimate heirs of a great tradition that
the generation of today is entitled to invoke the past not as a remem-
brance of dead things, but as source of inspiration for the future." 2
Salazar, usually the least florid of government spokesmen, chose to
address the Colonial Governors' Conference in 1933 in the same
expansive terms used by his colonial publicists. " I have in mind now
the great old figures of Portuguese colonization. They pass back and
forth in my memory, these men of yesterday and those of today,
the soldiers and administrators of the public trust in Africa and the
270 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

East . . ." Then, referring to recent colonial legislation, Salazar spoke

of it as "a perfect expression of our national consciousness, and a close
affirmation of the colonizing temperament of the Portuguese, [de-
signed] for the aggrandizement of Portugal . . . and to make clear
to the rest of Europe our position as a great colonial power." 3
In synthesizing the speeches and writings of the early 1930's, the
formative years for the colonial ideology of the N e w State, one can
say that the government aspired to create a colonial mentality out of
the maritime traditions of the golden age of Portuguese expansion, the
historic realities of Lusitanian overseas policy, and the realities of the
present. The new imperial mentality was defined by Jorge Ameal in
terms of these essential characteristics. First there was the geographic
element, "the notion of vast territories over which . . . our flag
flies . . . It is the knowledge that our sovereignty as a small Euro-
pean state spreads prodigiously over three continents and is summed
up in the magnificent certainty that we are the third colonial power
in the world." The second characteristic was the heroic element, "the
evocation of our epic as sailors and warriors, the ancestral memory
of an astonishing gallery of discoverers and builders, who, moved by a
sacred impulse, carried to the ends of the world our ships, our do-
minion -— and our faith. In this heroic element is contained the most
noble sentiment of our mission as a chosen people, as an evangelizing
people, since the task of civilizing must have, above all else, a spiritual
content. The Portuguese, like no other people, made their enterprises
of exploration and conquest a transcendent campaign, a sharing of
spiritual values." The third characteristic was the material element,
"the sum of our efforts and the hardships of our expeditionaries to
take from distant lands their hidden riches and the foundation in re-
mote lands of centers of production and profit. It is the contruction
of new cities where before there was only savage wasteland. It is the
poetry of Portuguese labor in far and hidden places." 4
Nationalistic sentiment found inspiration, as it had for centuries,
in Camóes' Lusíadas, the supreme exaltation of empire, and few of-
ficial pronouncements have failed to make appropriate reference to
the epic poem. During ceremonies in Angola in 1936, Marcelo
Caetano, N e w State philosopher and in recent years Salazar's admin-
istrative assistant, spoke of "the supreme flower of the Portuguese
language, the symbol of the moral unity of the Empire whose dis-
covery and conquest for civilization it sings in imperishable lines . . .
W e are going to write a new epic in an aggrandized and renovated
Portugal." In the following speech, the Governor General of Angola
picked up the theme: "I am going to swear here, on this sacred book,
 MYSTIQUE AND ADMINISTRATION 27 I

the Lusiadas, on the Bible of our country, the loyalty of all the
Portuguese in Angola. I swear that we, the Portuguese of Angola, will
carry out, no matter what the emergency, or how difficult the sacri-
fice, our duty as patriots and that we know how to die, sacrificing
our very lives for the lands of Portugal, which want to be and will
always be Portuguese." 5
In the fanciful elaborations of Lisbon colonialists in the 1930's the
terms "neo-imperialism" and "Third Empire" recurred frequently
as definitions of Portugal's policies and possessions. Portuguese im-
perialism, past and present, was held to be different from the garden
variety of European imperialism, since it was characterized not by
"exploitation, often iniquitous, by oppression of a vanquished people,
or by systematic devastation," 6 but by altruism, abnegation, faith,
and a historic responsibility of civilization. At the same time, however,
the Third Empire was not to be the muddled humanitarian creation of
the nineteenth-century liberals. "Empire and Liberty were incom-
patible concepts. Empire means Authority — and there is no Au-
thority where Power is divided and diluted. It is the duty of the N e w
State to re-establish the force of Power. With it will be revived all
the power-concepts of the Past. One of these power-concepts was the
unity of territory and of the Grail, as though there were no seas or
races separating the constituent elements of the national Whole." 7
Of all the theories publicized by the Salazar government in the
evolution of its colonial mystique, none has been more consistently
advanced than the vision of a Pan-Lusitanian community, geograph-
ically scattered over the globe but held together by spiritual bonds
peculiar to Portuguese culture. Politically this concept is translated
as one of identity. The idea of a Third Empire was mostly a paper
concoction useful for purposes of propaganda and prestige, but the
government's statements on the sense of unity existing between the
colonies and the metropolis had genuine foundations in past colonial
policy and in the national psychology. The feeling of solidarity of
the Portuguese overseas with the home country is an amorphous senti-
ment, not the ethnocentric force so visible in Afrikaner culture;
it grows out of his insular provincial personality and his celebrated
sense of saudade. The close sentimental ties which still bind the
Brazilian republic to Portugal are perhaps the best example of this
feeling of attachment to the metropolis. This aspect of the Portuguese
personality has been inflated, of course, to serve several political
causes; emphasizing the spiritual cohesion of the colonies was orig-
inally an attempt to arouse interest at home in the overseas provinces
and to convince the Portuguese overseas that the new regime did not
272 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

consider them second-class citizens. It has also been an argument

advanced in compensation for the slow material progress of the
colonies, and more recently has been used vigorously by the govern-
ment to confront the advocates of African autonomy. That the
Portuguese are correct in asserting that the native peoples in her
colonies share this psychic reality is doubtful, but for the moment it
is sufficient if the white population maintains the attachment.
Language, religion, race, and tradition — or, in the words of
Antonio Leite de Magalhâes, "one State, one Race, one Faith, and one
Civilization" 8 — are the cement holding the colonies to Portugal.
Thus, it has been said, the Portuguese colonies never seriously enter-
tained thoughts of independence (Brazil excepted, of course, and
separatist revolts in Angola and Moçambique in the 1800's over-
looked). According to Sidney Welch, "Portuguese culture was so
deeply rooted [overseas] that no combination of military and polit-
ical power was able to destroy it altogether, where it had taken
root." 9 The colonies were in effect an extension of Portugal, and
for the practical Salazar they were more than a sentimental extension:
" B y the same national criterion . . . without distinction of geographic
situation . . . we administer and direct the Portuguese colonies. Like
the Minho or Beira [provinces of metropolitan Portugal] Angola or
Moçambique or India is under the single authority of the state. W e
are a juridical and political unity, and we desire to go along the road
to economic unity." 10 For many of Dr. Salazar's admirers his words
meant the emergence of a new Rome.
It is difficult to gauge the extent to which the N e w State's colonial
mystique has been a logical projection of Portuguese mentality and
aspirations, for the Portuguese are not the least nationalistic of peoples
and it has long been their custom to use hyperbole in discussing their
colonial empire — even when urging that the colonies be abandoned.
Unquestionably the government's propaganda machine produces its
fair share of jingoistic claptrap and official cant, developed early in
the 1930's, in which all linguistic contact with reality is suffocated.
But to isolate the genuine from the spurious, the traditional Portu-
guese colonial sentiment from the synthetic abstractions sponsored by
the present regime is a tricky task, for not only has the N e w State's
mystique made its influence felt in all colonial legislation — in point
of fact, it had its origin in the Colonial Act of 1930 — but it has also
become the language of communication for most overseas administra-
tors and has come to influence their conduct and thinking. In the
popular mind as well much of the government's colonial credo has
struck a responsive chord, although some Portuguese reject out of
 M Y S T I Q U E AND A D M I N I S T R A T I O N 273

hand any government pronouncement, and there are old colonists in

Angola and Moçambique who are cynical of a colonial administration
which, in their regard, has been more concerned with verbalism than
practical achievement in the African provinces.

In trying to popularize its colonial ideals and to arouse Portu-

guese interest in Angola and Moçambique, the N e w State was fac-
ing the same problem the government had faced in the 1870's. The
impetus given colonial affairs by the nineteenth-century explorers,
the English ultimatum, and the generation of 1895 did not survive
the 1920's, and for many Portuguese the popular image of Africa
was one of a far and dangerous place inhabited by Negroes and
exiles. Statements emphasizing that Angola and Moçambique were
merely distant fragments of Portugal did not detour Portuguese
emigration away from Brazil to Africa. The new imperial con-
sciousness could not be formed out of ignorance and lack of interest.
Street-names, commemorative stamps celebrating overseas heroes,
colonial fairs, and congresses were not enough. In the words of Vieira
Machado, Colonial Minister in the late 1930's, " T o colonize is, in the
final analysis, to teach and to educate."
The number of periodicals dedicated to colonial matters which
have appeared and disappeared in the last twenty-five years is enor-
mous. Most of them subsidized by some government agency, either
in Portugal or in the colonies, the more permanent titles include the
valuable Boletim geral do ultramar (formerly the Boletim geral das
colonias), the more general O mundo portugués, and the scientific
journal Garcia da Orta, as well as such publicity handouts as A voz
de Angola and the Boletim dos portos, caminhos de jerro e transporte
de Moçambique. Some have been factual publications, while others,
like O ?mmdo portugués, have been concerned with keeping the
public abreast of policy developments and with reinterpreting the
heroics of Portugal's overseas past.
The government has also sponsored, principally through the
Agencia Geral do Ultramar, the colonial propaganda agency, a stream
of publications on almost every aspect of the empire. Although all of
these publications reduce reality to conformity and reflect the polit-
ical ideas prevailing at the moment, they have made available valuable
historical and anthropological material. 11 In recent years the Junta de
Investigaçôes do Ultramar has begun to sponsor a growing list of
titles.
Only the metropolitan newspapers have maintained their custom-
2
74 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

ary disdain for the colonies, except on the occasion of a presidential

visit or when the government provides a journalistic junket to Africa
or India. While they no longer make such mistakes as putting Cabinda
in Portuguese Guinea and do acknowledge the colonies by printing
an overseas page in the Sunday supplements and running occasional
news stories, the Lisbon dailies have not yet shown an overwhelming
interest in Africa. Government spokesmen like Fernanda Reis have
pointed out that great colonial problems go unnoticed in Portuguese
papers and that editors are negligent in stimulating interest in the
colonies and satisfying the public's curiosity about events there.12
The richest heritage of the past for the New State was a literary
consciousness of the empire. Not only Camöes, Europe's most elo-
quent poet of expansion and empire, and the Renaissance historians
like Barros, Castanheda, and Couto, but successive generations of
Portuguese writers, popular and courtly, found inspiration in Bra-
zilian, African, and Eastern themes, even in periods when the Lisbon
government was paying little attention to some of these areas.18 Al-
though contemporary scholars and publicists have been able to use
this material in their research or for nationalistic justifications, the
New State has been unable to encourage any significant additions to
it. The failure has not been for lack of effort. The Agencia Geral
promotes an annual contest "to stimulate those writers who dedicate
themselves to the study of overseas problems and those writers
whose works are printed in the colonies." Prizes of 350 dollars are
awarded to the writers of the best novel, the best poem, the best
essay, and the best historical work. The response has not been over-
whelming, and sometimes prizes in one category or another are not
awarded for lack of satisfactory applications.14 Other literary prizes,
such as the one offered by the newspaper Provìncia de Angola, have
also failed to raise appreciably the level of Portuguese colonial litera-
ture. The three main deterrents seem to be a lack of interest in the
colonies by the Portuguese intellectual, because of ignorance or dis-
inclination, the difficulty of obtaining publication in Portugal for
original literary works, and the stultifying intellectual climate created
by the present regime's medieval attitude toward any artistic produc-
tion. A semblance of a colonial literature does exist. Writers like
Lopes Vieira, Hugh Rocha, Rodrigues Junior, Castro Soromenho,
and Guilhermina de Azevedo have cultivated colonial themes with
varying success. Contemporary Portuguese colonial literature almost
invariably falls into one of two categories: a pseudo-epic poetry,
alternately bombastic and nostalgic, and an impressionistic fiction,
lushly exotic — and erotic. A purely African literature cannot be
 M Y S T I Q U E AND A D M I N I S T R A T I O N 275

said to exist; in view of the official attitude in this century toward

the use of vernacular tongues, the future promise that Heli Chatelain
saw for a native Angolan literature has not been fulfilled.15 A small
number of mulattoes and assimiliated Africans in both provinces, how-
ever, have begun to write original works in Portuguese.16
The historical and scientific literature directly or indirectly sup-
ported by the government and various cultural organizations has been
considerably more significant. The government has been attempting
of late to co-ordinate historical research on the colonies through
centralization of archives and materials. The quality of subsidized
colonial research in Portugal is not consistently high, unless it is of a
bibliographical or maritime scientific nature. Nonetheless, such works
as Almeida de Eça's Historia das guerras no Zambesi and Silva Rego's
mission histories have brought to light much new information on
the African past. Anthropological teams have made cursory ethno-
graphic surveys of Angola and Moçambique, collecting photographic
and recorded materials, and there is a steady publication of scientific
and semi-scientific works. A number of studies of native traditions in
northeast Angola have been subsidized by the Diamond Company,
whose museum at Dundo has what is considered one of the most
important collections in Africa.
A peripheral aspect of the government's interest in literary and
scholarly activity has been the cordial reception given most foreign
investigators and journalists who express curiosity about the overseas
provinces. Not infrequently extensive itineraries are arranged by the
Overseas Ministry or the local government to permit the foreigner
to visit the colonies at Portuguese expense. In Africa the impeccable
Portuguese hospitality has stood the New State in good stead and
served to soften what might have been intemperate remarks on the
local state of affairs. Out-spoken visitors like Basil Davidson, A. T .
Steele of the New York Herald-Tribune, and Brian Parks of the
Johannesburg Star are in the minority. The majority of the visitors
speak with enthusiasm and conviction of the wisdom of Portuguese
policies, the harmony between the black world and the white, and the
spiritual contributions Portugal has made to Africa. The bad-tempered
English traveler of the nineteenth century is seldom seen now in
Portuguese Africa.
One of the primary purposes of the government's propaganda
campaign has been to educate a rising generation in colonial affairs.
As a first step, the Escola Colonial Superior (now the Institute for
Overseas Studies) was consolidated with the colonial administration.
The announced intent of the Escola was to constitute a center for
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

advanced colonial studies to instruct the elite of the nation in the

special methods of Portuguese colonial action; to prepare bureaucrats
and administrators to embody and carry out Portugal's philosophies;
and to act as a center for scientific colonial investigation and orienta-
tion. Principally, however, the school has served to train colonial
officers, and its graduates are coming to dominate the lower echelons
of the colonial service.17 Applicants for the four-year program must
be high-school graduates. At the institute they receive instruction in
colonial administration and theory, anthropology, the elements of
Portuguese law, vernacular languages, and other subjects designed
to prepare them for overseas service. Among the present distinguished
professors at the institute are the noted anthropologist Mendes Correia
•— who is the director of the school — and the colonial theorist and
scholar J. M. da Silva Cunha.
Equally important was to impress upon the secondary-school and
university students an awareness of the overseas provinces, principally
Africa; out of this awareness might come an increased immigration
of educated young men and women to Angola and Moçambique.
This campaign, not very successful, extended into the middle 1940's,
when other factors, such as colonial prosperity and a higher standard
of living, began to accomplish what repeated official urgings had not
been able to do. The line of persuasion taken by the New State was
one that sought to raise a challenge to the adventurous spirit of the
Portuguese youth. He was told not only of the great opportunities
offered by the colonies, but that he should be interested in serving his
nation, not himself. In addition to working for the good of his country,
he would have the personal satisfaction of being regarded as the
"white chief, who knows all and can do all . . . He can stimulate
culture . . . explore forests, open roads, irrigate fields . . . organize
trading centers . . . build infirmaries . . . He will be a man of ac-
tion, not a bureaucrat." 18 T o give vitality to this educational cam-
paign in the middle 1930's summer cruises to the West African posses-
sions were organized for university students under the direction of
Marcelo Caetano, who was then beginning to emerge as one of Sala-
zar's young leaders. On the occasion of the first cruise, in 1935, an edi-
torial in O mundo portugués summed up the reason for the voyage and
the significance of Africa for Portugal. "We must always keeps alive
in the Portuguese people the dream of beyond-the-seas and the con-
sciousness and pride of Empire. Africa is more than a land to be
exploited . . . Africa is for us a moral justification and a raison d'être
as a power. Without it we would be a small nation; with it we are
a great country." 18
 MYSTIQUE AND ADMINISTRATION 277

The ultimate gesture of solidarity between Portugal and the

African colonies under the N e w State has been the presidential voy-
ages. Here the regime may pride itself on making a unique contribu-
tion to overseas unity. Through inertia or by policy previous Portu-
guese governments had almost studiously refrained from sending any
dignitary or official of importance to visit Africa. The short trip of
the crown prince in 1907 and that of Colonial Minister Bebiano in
the 1920's were the only precedents. In the 1930's this attitude
changed. In 1932 Colonial Minister Armindo Monteiro visited the
colonies — thus initiating a series of inspection tours by colonial
ministers — and in 1938 President Carmona went to Angola and a
year later to Moçambique. In 1954 President Craveiro Lopes visited
Angola and in 195Ó Moçambique.20 On each voyage Presidents Car-
mona and Craveiro Lopes have been accompanied by ranking mem-
bers of the Overseas Ministry. The visits have not been casual affairs,
but well-arranged tours through the greater part of each province.
In addition to emphasizing the oneness of the Portuguese world, they
have served the colonies as useful deadlines for the completion of
major projects. Each visit has been attended by the inauguration of a
dam, a bridge, an airport, a colonization scheme, a radio transmitter;
vilas are raised to the categories of cities, colonial fairs and exhibits
abound, and African delegations from almost every part of the colony
greet the President with declarations of fidelity and solidarity. 21 And
each visit gives administration leaders the opportunity to review the
meaning of Portuguese endeavor in Africa. With these words the
Governor of Manica e Sofala greeted President Craveiro Lopes in
Beira in August 1956:
Here we are after more than four and a half centuries, here we are
engaged today more than ever on a great and successful work, with the
help of God, raising high the banner of Portugal, taming the wilderness,
building towns and making them prosper, teaching, educating, and leading
to a better life the rude mass of natives, disciplining their rudimentary
instincts . . . molding their soul in the superior forms of Christianity,
administering them justice with affectionate understanding . . . A task,
or I should say, a mission, vast, difficult, and exhausting, but noble and
dignifying as few are. It is our historical vocation emerging once again
. . . Everything indicates that we are on the verge of a new era, a decisive
phase of History, of our History, that we have ahead of us a great, aus-
picious, and obtainable future . . . Everything is for the common good
and aggrandizement of the mother country.22
The parallel between the imperial mystique created by the N e w
State, absorbed b y many of its colonial administrators, and imposed,
278 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

at least, superficially, on a surprisingly large segment of the Portu-

guese population, and the nationalistic attitude of the Union of South
African government is inescapable. The words of Dr. Malan have
a familiar ring. "The history of the Afrikaner reveals a determina-
tion and definiteness of purpose which make one feel that Afri-
kanerdom is not the work of man but a creation of God. W e have
a divine right to be Afrikaners. Our history is the highest work of
the art of the Architect of the Centuries." 23 In the national mythol-
ogies of Portugal and South Africa the caravel and the oxcart seem
to offer the same symbolic inspiration to the present generation. The
Portuguese and the Boer are pursuing, albeit from different directions,
the same goal: self-preservation in Africa, the Portuguese theoretically
through a closer rapprochement with the metropolis and the Boer
through the isolation and intensification of what he holds to be the
traditional Afrikaner culture and way of life. The increasingly warm
regard in which the South African and Portuguese governments hold
each other today is more than a matter of economics. Events in other
parts of Africa are driving the two countries to find common cause
in their efforts to meet the implied threat of African nationalism with
a revival of the simulated values of an exaggerated heroic past.

The spirit of the Salazar government's neo-imperialism is found

not only in speeches and programs to whip up interest in the colonies.
It is present as well in all overseas legislation dating from the Colonial
Act of 1930; in fact these laws have often been the source for much
of the theorizing on Portugal's past and present role as a colonizing
power ("The development of spiritual relations between the metrop-
olis and the overseas provinces shall be promoted for their mutual
knowledge and rapprochement in all aspects of intellectual life; thus
all institutions diffusing Portuguese culture in the overseas provinces
should be protected and subsidized").24 At the same time the colonial
laws have reflected the sternly authoritarian attitude of the govern-
ment and are of an intellectual piece with the Portuguese Constitution
of 1933, the new labor statutes, and similar metropolitan legislation.
It is logical that an administration which has successfully exalted
morality, the family, and the privilege of the Portuguese majority
to be poor should seek to disseminate these same virtues in the colo-
nies, and much of recent Portuguese colonial legislation has been
characterized by the same doctrines that pervade the laws governing
Portugal.
The Colonial Act of 1930 was the work of Salazar, who served
 M Y S T I Q U E AND A D M I N I S T R A T I O N 279

briefly as Minister of Colonies in that year, and his successor, Armindo

Monteiro. The Act set forth the general principles for the conduct
of affairs overseas. It provided for the unification of administration
in the hands of the state and the cessation of administrative authority
in the hands of private companies; the normalization of colonial ad-
ministration and the end of the high commissionerships; and the na-
tionalization of the colonial economies; it prohibited the use of
African labor by private companies or individuals and reiterated the
obligation to pay the African for his labor. Finally, it stressed the
duty of the colonial administrators to sustain the sovereignty of
Portugal. As is evident, the principal aim of the Colonial Act was to
reverse the trend toward financial and political autonomy and to en-
able Portugal to put forth to the world a united imperial front.
For the defenders of the New State at home and abroad the
Colonial Act has been seen as an inspiring affirmation of imperial
destiny, "the calling of the colonies to closer communion with con-
tinental Portugal and a sternly vigorous declaration of Portugal's in-
tention to maintain and perpetuate the legacy of history." 25 The
reaction in the colonies has sometimes been more reserved, especially
among long-time white residents of Angola and Moçambique who
take a more practical view of the Act and subsequent legislation. They
argue that the natural development of the provinces has been replaced
by artificial stimuli and restrictions and even that Portugal has re-
turned to her traditional policies of milking the colonies for the profit
of the metropolis. Simöes Vaz, publisher of As noticias de Lourenço
Marques and one of the most distinguished Portuguese residents of
the province, writes, in discussing the lack of adequate agricultural
services in Moçambique: "The colony does not have, unfortunately,
sufficient autonomy itself for such an undertaking. It is dependent
on the Ministry of Colonies, and as in this Ministry they have the
habit, in our view a mistaken one, of legislating in matters of this
sort simultaneously and uniformly for all of the colonies, as if in each
of them there did not exist different necessities, and as they do not
have the facilities for taking prompt and energetic action in dealing
with all of the problems of all of the colonies, the proposals which
are submitted by the colonial governors are lost on one desk or an-
other or are pigeonholed to be forgotten by everyone, including the
Minister himself. . ." 2 β
The progress of the Colonial Act illustrates the continuing efforts
of the government to achieve economic and political solidarity — and
to confront anticolonial sentiments springing up in many parts of the
world. Modified in some details in 1935 and 1945, the Act, with addi-
28ο PORTUGUESE AFRICA

tional changes, was incorporated in 1951 into the Portuguese Constitu-

tion as an integral part of the law of continental and overseas Portugal.
Portuguese possessions were once again after 1951 given the designa-
tion of "overseas provinces," a term "considered to conform more
with the principle of unity and with the closer co-operation now ex-
isting among all the peoples who constitute the Nation and the various
parcels of Portuguese territory." 27 Thus Article 134 of the Constitu-
tion reads: "The overseas territories of Portugal are given the generic
name 'provinces' and have a politico-administrative organization suit-
able to their geographic situation and their conditions of social en-
vironment." Article 135 states that "the overseas provinces as an
integral part of the Portuguese state are linked to each other and
to the metropolis," while Article 136 specifies that "the solidarity
between the overseas provinces and the metropolis includes especially
the obligation of making an appropriate contribution to guarantee
the integrity and defense of the Nation as a whole . . ."
In reverting to a term used by the scorned Liberal government
in the 1830's—-which had, modern Portuguese spokesmen empha-
size, no practical significance and was nothing more than an ideological
chimera28 — the New State was laying the groundwork for entrance
into the United Nations, where she would be more vulnerable to
charges of colonialism, and for closer collaboration with the nations
of the Western alliance. Evidence of the success of this maneuver
may be seen in Secretary of State Dulles' prompted remark in 1955
that the Portuguese state of Goa was a Portuguese province. In all
United Nations debates on questions relating to non-self-governing
territories, Portugal has refused to participate on the grounds that
Portugal is a single state and that all Portuguese, whether born in the
provinces of the metropolis or those of the Ultramar, enjoy, without
distinction of race or religious creed, the same rights.
The general provisions of the Colonial Act have been elaborated
and more carefully defined by other colonial legislation, principally
the Organic Charter of 1933, modified in 1935, 1937, and 1946 and
replaced in 1955 by the Organic Law, which establishes special pro-
visions for the particular character of each overseas province; and the
Administrative Overseas Reform Act of 1933, which remains in effect
except where it has been modified by changes in the Portuguese Con-
stitution and the Organic Law. But nothing in this legislation, or in
more specific laws, has altered the essentials of the Colonial Act.
Minor changes in the Organic Charter in 1946 gave a measure of
financial and administrative freedom to the governors general of the
colonies, and the consultative authority of the Legislative Councils
 M Y S T I Q U E AND ADMINISTRATION 281
in the colonies has recently been increased, but both Angola and
Moçambique remain snugly beneath Lisbon's control.

Angola and Moçambique have undergone administrative divisions

and regroupings since 1930. The changes have been designed to ex-
tend Portuguese authority more effectively into the remoter areas of
each province and to expedite the transmission of authority from
Lisbon through the provincial capitals to the lesser administrative
centers, although basically the patterns of districts and circumscrip-
tions established in the early part of the century have remained con-
stant. Until 1956, that is, roughly, during the years when Angola and
Moçambique were called colonies, each possession was divided into
several large provinces, which in turn were split into districts, or
intendencias, and these into concelhos or circumscriptions. As estab-
lished in a decree of 1946, Moçambique was divided into four prov-
inces: Manica e Sofala, comprising the districts of Beira and Tete;
Sul do Save, divided into the districts of Lourenço Marques, Gaza,
and Inhambane; Zambézia; and Niassa, split into the three districts
of Nampula, Lago, and Cape Delgado. Angola contained five prov-
inces: Luanda, with its districts of Luanda, Cabinda, Zaire, Congo,
and Cuanza Norte; Malange, divided into Malange and Lunda; Ben-
guela, split into Benguela, Cuanza Sul and Huambo; Bié comprising
Bié, Moxico, and Cuando-Cubango; and Huila, made up of Huila,
Moçâmedes, and Cunene. Further division produced in Angola, for
example, sixty-six civil circumscriptions, of which thirty-three were
concelhos, and two hundred eighty-nine posts. Moçambique had
fourteen concelhos and sixty-five circumscriptions. The number and
shape of these lesser divisions has changed but slightly in the last fif-
teen years.
A decree of October 1954 — taking effect in 1956 — divided An-
gola and Moçambique, now officially overseas provinces, into districts
which more or less corresponded to the districts making up the
former provinces in the two colonies. These districts (with their
capitals indicated in parentheses) are:

Angola Moçambique
Cabinda (Cabinda) Lourenço Marques (Lourenço
Congo (Uige) Marques)
Luanda (Luanda) Gaza (Vila Jolo Belo)
Cuanza Norte (Vila Salazar) Inhambane (Inhambane)
Cuanza Sul (Malange) Manica e Sofala (Beira)
282 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

Lunda (Henrique de Carvalho) Tete (Tete)

Benguela (Benguela) Zambézia (Quelimane)
Huambo (Nova Lisboa) Moçambique (Nampula)
Bié-Cuando-Cubango (Silva Cabo Delgado (Porto Amelia)
Porto) Niassa (Vila Cabrai)
Moxico (Vila Luso)
Moçâmedes (Moçâmedes)
Huila (Sá da Bandeira)

Simultaneous with the redistricting of Moçambique and Angola,

first steps were taken to create an administrative organization similar
to the one prevailing in Portugal. It is intended that as the work of
civilizing the African peoples goes forward, the unit of government
in the districts will become the concelho, an instrument of limited
local self-government. In the meantime, however, the districts are
divided as before into concelhos, where a civilized majority predom-
inates, and circumscriptions in largely African areas. Some concelhos,
however, are split into urban freguesias (parishes) and non-urban ad-
ministrative posts. The unit of division in the circumscription con-
tinues to be the administrative post. In certain districts of the prov-
inces where African policy is of primary importance, an intermediate
division, the intendencia, a grouping of circumscriptions and areas
of African population within contiguous concelhos, is used to expedite
native policy and development schemes.
The source of all important colonial authority is Lisbon and re-
sides in three bodies: the National Assembly, the Council of Min-
isters, and the Overseas Ministry. T h e National Assembly has but a
modest role in colonial policy and administration, serving only to
legislate the proposals it receives from the Overseas Ministry through
the Council of Ministers and to review the yearly reports from the
overseas provinces. Among its 120 members are three deputies elected
from Angola and three from Moçambique, but since these men need
not be residents of the colonies and are candidates chosen by the
government to stand for election, their influence on colonial conduct
is as negligible as that of the rest of the Assembly's members.
The Portuguese government (i.e., the Council of Ministers) acts
in a general executive capacity on overseas affairs. It may legislate by
decree for the national territory or for the individual provinces. It
alone may permit the negotiating of loans by the provinces, which
 M Y S T I Q U E AND ADMINISTRATION 283

occurs only under exceptional circumstances, and it approves all con-

cessions to foreign companies. T h e appointment and dismissal of
colonial governors is also the business of the Council. Through various
governmental boards, such as those controlling the production of
certain crops (cereals and cotton, for example), and export-import
commissions the government effectively dominates the economic life
of Angola and Moçambique. Through the national labor laws the
government extends its influence over workers and employers over-
seas.
In more specific matters the central organ of overseas administra-
tion is the Overseas Ministry, whose authority embraces all questions
of general colonial policy. On particular levels this includes respon-
sibility for administrative personnel, native policy, missionary matters,
censorship, some aspects of the juridical system and the military
organization, and public works programs. Ultimately the Overseas
Minister is responsible for the political and administrative life of the
provinces and their over-all financial organization; he must decide on
all disputes arising between the governor general and the provincial
legislative councils. No colonial legislation becomes law until the
Minister has released the text for publication in the Boletim oficial
of the province or provinces concerned. As Professor Martins Afonso
remarks, "These dispositions clearly show that the unity of power
resides in the Central Government and, especially, in the Overseas
Minister, since it is he who superintends, directs, orients, co-ordinates,
and controls on the highest level all overseas administration." 29
Acting as a consultative body to the Overseas Minister, when he
chooses to consult it — and even then he is not bound to heed its
advice on any except juridical matters — is the Overseas Council, a
permanent organization. Temporary consultative bodies are the Over-
seas Governors' Conference and the Overseas Economic Conference,
which meet to discuss general policy when they are convened —
infrequently — by the Overseas Minister. T o keep in constant con-
tact with the problems of each province the Minister relies on a corps
of inspectors, who, while they have no administrative authority,
are in a position to influence decisions through their reports to the
Ministry and the colonial governors.
The supreme authority in each overseas province is the governor
general, charged with representing and maintaining political unity.
Appointed by the Council of Ministers, usually on the recommenda-
tion of the Overseas Minister, the governor general has a four-year
term of office, which may be renewed for additional terms. He is
forbidden to have any business interests in the province where he
284 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

serves or to have any association with firms doing business there. He

enjoys the honors belonging to the ministers of the government and
has precedence over all civil and military officers serving in the
colony. He may not leave the colony without permission of the Over-
seas Minister and must advise the latter when he leaves the provincial
capital.
The governor general possesses extensive powers ancKresponsi-
bilities to administer the province under the terms of colonial laws
and in areas which do not fall under the exclusive competence of an-
other governmental or provincial body. He must inform the Overseas
Ministry of current administrative events and problems. He is charged
with assuming the protection under law of nationals and foreigners;
at the same time, he may order the expulsion of, or refuse entry to,
those Portuguese and foreigners whose presence would seem detri-
mental to provincial interests. He may appoint, promote, or dismiss
all government employees whose appointments are not made by the
Overseas Ministry or other independent bodies. The governor gen-
eral is responsible for the administration and operation of all colonial
departments; supervision of public magistrates and attorneys and
other judicial officials, however, are beyond his competence. He exer-
cises the power of the general police. He is obliged to visit at intervals
the various regions of the province to inspect local administrations
and to receive claims or petitions which may be directed to him.
The governor general is the financial authority in the colony,
exercising the function of a controller of expenditures, and draws up
the annual budget for submission to the consultative councils and the
Overseas Ministry. The constraints on the governor general in the
matter of the budget and expenditures are severe, for the government,
remembering the 1920's, has ordered that he shall be liable to trial
when, by his own initiative or against the opinion of competent
government officials, he incurs expenditures not foreseen in the budget
or in excess of those approved by the Overseas Minister. Under exist-
ing regulations the governor general may grant concessions of land,
and mines, commercial monopolies, construction contracts, naviga-
tion and fishing rights, and other privileges for the exploitation of
the province so long as they do not imply the surrender of the state's
sovereign rights.
The governor general is responsible for bettering the moral and
material living conditions of the African, for the improvement of
his aptitudes and natural facilities, and, in a general sense, for his
education, security, and progress. He may establish, change, or sup-
press native taxes and regulate tax collection and the census. He is the
 M Y S T I Q U E AND A D M I N I S T R A T I O N 285

protector of the African's rights and is the government's instrument

for the carrying out of native policy, particularly those laws enacted
for the defense of the African's life, freedom, labor, and property.
T o assist them in the executive administration of the province,
the governors general of Angola and Moçambique rely chiefly on
three associates, the secretary general, the immediate subordinate,
and two provincial secretaries. These men are chosen by the governor
general and carry the rank, in the overseas hierarchy, equal to that of
inspector. Their powers are defined by local ordinance, although in
every case they are responsible to the governor general. Usually they
are delegated authority over certain aspects of the provincial ad-
ministration. In Moçambique, for example, in 1956, the secretary
general was responsible for the general supervision of the education
and health programs in the province, as well as of civil administration,
police, and justice. One provincial secretary supervised the public-
works program, the transportation system, communications, and the
meteorological services, while to the other fell the administration of
such diverse matters as agriculture, industry and mines, provincial
statistics, commerce, and veterinary services.30
In legislative matters the governor general is assisted and theo-
retically guided by the Legislative Council. Formerly nothing more
than a rubber stamp for local administrative decisions, the Legislative
Council was granted expanded consultative powers in the early 1950's,
although its principal function even now is to discuss and suggest
local policy that is to be implemented in local legislation and to express
an opinion on whatever matters are presented to it by the governor
general or the Overseas Minister. Should the governor general refuse
to accept the advice of the Council on any matter which he is obliged
to discuss with it, he must report his differences in writing to the
Overseas Minister. The Legislative Council exists partly as a safety
valve for local resentments and partly to give overseas residents a
sense of participation, however limited, in the provincial government.
The Council meets twice a year for thirty-day periods beginning
April ι and October 1. The Legislative Council in Angola presently
has twenty-six members (eighteen elected and eight appointed) and
in Moçambique it has twenty-four (sixteen elected and eight ap-
pointed). Six of the appointed members, at least three of whom must
be high administrative officiais, are chosen by the governor general,
while the other two are chosen by the Government Council from a
triple list submitted by the governor general. Of the elected members,
eleven in Angola and nine in Moçambique are elected by direct suf-
frage of citizens registered on the electoral rolls, two are chosen by
286 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

municipal bodies, two by organizations representing cultural and

moral interests (one of these members must be a Catholic missionary),
one by organizations representing the laboring class, one by organiza-
tions representing employers' associations, and one by taxpayers of
Portuguese nationality who pay a minimum direct annual tax of $350.
While it is possible that all the members of the Legislative Council
have the African's interests at heart, it is nonetheless significant that
not one member directly represents the interests of the nine million
Africans in the two provinces.
T o assist the governor general in his executive duties, meeting
only when he summons it, is the Government Council, a sort of ad-
visory cabinet. The Council is made up of the secretary general, the
provincial secretaries, the military commander of the province, the
attorney general, the director of the treasury department, and two
elected members of the Legislative Council designated by the gover-
nor general. The most important function of the Government Council
is to aid in the preparation of the yearly budget.
The lines of authority in Angola and Moçambique pass from the
governor general down to the district governors to the administrators
to the chiefs of post. The district governors, named by the Overseas
Minister, are the direct representatives of the governor general. Their
responsibilities include civil authority and administration in the dis-
tricts, economic control and development, protection of the African,
and collaboration with the general administration of the province.
The administrators of the concelhos correspond in their authority
and responsibilities to municipal magistrates in Portugal. This official
directs the administrative activities of the concelho, prepares its
budgets and annual reports, has charge of municipal services, and con-
sults with the municipal council.
The administrator of the circunscriçâo continues to be the most
important figure in the colonial administration, excepting the governor
general, because the circumscription remains the primary unit of
government in the African provinces. In addition to carrying out the
usual administrative, economic, and civil duties, the administrador,
in N e w State language, "represents in the middle of the native popu-
lation, the sovereignty of the Nation, the authority of the Republic,
the order, the dignity, the justice of Portuguese civilization." In more
practical terms, he is still the white chief envisioned by Enes and
Costa, for he and the cheje de posto are the colonial officers in most
immediate contact with the people making up more than 95 per cent
of the population in both provinces. He is registry officer for the
African population, judge in their disputes (relying, in purely tribal
 MYSTIQUE AND ADMINISTRATION 287

questions, on information supplied by African informants), super-

intendent of tax collection, stimulator of the African economy and
agriculture, and, in many circumscriptions, native-labor co-ordinator
and supply officer.
In the from two to six divisions, or postos, which comprise each
circumscription the administrative officer is the chef e de posto whose
functions are roughly those of the administrator, but on a reduced
level. The chief of post is ultimately the European in closest contact
with the tribal population.31
Because of their many activities and the nature of their work with
a rural African population, the administrator and the chief of post
are specified by Portuguese colonial law to be men of action. The
New State frankly admits that on their zeal, competence, and honest
conduct the success of the country's African policy rests. T o fill these
lesser administrative positions the New State has attempted to create,
chiefly through the Colonial School, an elite to serve overseas. Viewed
against the desultory, if not negligent performance of many colonial
officials in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the govern-
ment's program must be regarded a success. The pay remains small,
but the standard of living has improved noticeably. Spacious houses,
official automobiles, paid vacations in Portugal, and the presence of
the administrator's family have helped change the rather desperate
conditions existing fifty and twenty-five years ago and have con-
tributed to the generally acknowledged efficiency of Portuguese ad-
ministrators in the African interior.32
Integrated into the administrative hierarchy as auxiliaries of the
overseas civil administration are various African officials. Their posi-
tions include that of the sepoys — usually men who have served in the
army — who form an African police force. There are also inter-
preters, whose knowledge of native languages and customs is indis-
pensable to Portuguese administrators, and régulos. Completely sub-
servient to the administrator or chief of post is the régulo, or African
chief, a man who has attained his position through succession or tribal
election or who is a soldier or local official rewarded for having
served Portuguese interests faithfully. The régulo is obliged to main-
tain public order, to assist in the collection of taxes, to try to convince
his people to fulfill their labor obligations, either through contracting
their services or working on their own account, and to keep Portu-
guese authorities apprised of village happenings. For their services,
the chiefs receive token honors, a salary of perhaps ten to twelve
dollars a month, and certain gratuities. Within each village in the
régulo,s jurisdiction, a head man carries out the chief's instructions,
288 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

which are principally concerned with tax collection and road main-
tenance.
Through this formidable administrative service 3 3 — larger in
proportion to the size of the territory and number of its inhabitants
than that of any other colonial power in Africa — the authority of
the Portuguese government extends directly from the Overseas Min-
istry to the individual African in the hinterland village. In terms of
native policy it means that the activities of the African population
are under the closest control, if not actual surveillance, and it must
be considered one of the several reasons why the Portuguese may
boast that their overseas provinces are the most peaceful and secure
areas in the African continent. In terms of colonial development,
political and economic, this bureaucratic channeling of authority,
with its series of checks on almost every form of local initiative, is
considered by many to be a discouraging and restricting force. T h e
executive and legislative machinery of Portugal's governments has
usually moved at a ponderous pace on colonial matters, and the
present government is no exception. The lack of specific authority
all along the line has in recent years increased the traditional Portu-
guese inclination to rely more on elaborate legislation, lengthy reports,
and seemingly endless discussions than on responsible administrative
action in Angola and Moçambique.
 XII

T H E N E W S T A T E IN A F R I C A :
N A T I V E POLICY

U NTIL recent years native policy was only incidental to the ad-
ministration and exploitation of Angola and Moçambique. T h e Afri-
can population in its majority was ignored, enslaved, or conquered
depending upon the necessities of the age, and Portuguese actions
and atttitudes, which in retrospect have been called policy, were
based on little more than expediency. The slave trade was, of course,
given its extent in the two possessions, a sort of native policy, but in
a larger sense it was another aspect of Portugal's economic exploita-
tion. Economic considerations still dominate colonial schemes, but
not so nakedly, and a major effort of the N e w State's overseas policy
has theoretically been based on the social, as well as the financial, in-
tegration of Angola and Moçambique. From the traditions deriving
from Portuguese conduct in Africa in centuries past and from the au-
thoritarian purpose and mystique of the present the Salazar govern-
ment has evolved a philosophy for the African provinces: cultural
assimilation. Still more precept than practice, this policy is advertised
as the answer to Africanism and the ultimate hope for European colo-
nialism in Africa.
Realistically, the heralded traditions of the Portuguese occupation
in Angola and Moçambique are, as has been seen, not much more than
the pattern of behavior followed by a handful of Europeans who bare-
ly survived four hundred years of African vicissitudes. T h e survival
of Portuguese colonies on both coasts of Africa was more the result
of the white inhabitants' ability to maintain a modest and uncertain
2ÇO PORTUGUESE AFRICA

modus vivendi with the African peoples than of Lisbon's sporadic ef-
forts to transplant European cultural values. T h e state of the provinces
in mid-nineteenth century is sufficient evidence of Portugal's lack of
success in expanding either her political or cultural authority over the
Bantu tribes. Apart from Luanda and the town of Moçambique, ad-
ministrative centers more or less constantly refreshed through contact
with the metropolis or other Portuguese colonies, no center of Por-
tuguese activity could boast in 1900 of a continuous history of impor-
tance. T h e soldier or trader in the interior lived a precarious existence,
subduing the nearby African villagers in good years and trying to ne-
gotiate with them in bad, but almost always mingling his blood with
theirs. While the Portuguese did not always accept the African as an
equal, they were usually willing to accept him, to trade with him, to
allow him to hold minor administrative or ecclesiastical offices, and,
on occasions, to be absorbed by him. This is the essential reality of the
native policy practiced by the Portuguese in Africa. It is the only fact
of the past which properly lends itself to transcendental discussions.
All other talk — the nonextermination of the African (as if the Por-
tuguese were ever in a position to kill off the African if they had
wanted to), the perpetuation of Christian ideals, or the inappropriate
analogies with Portuguese India or Brazil — is fantasy.
Perhaps the casual African-Portuguese relationship of the early
centuries is manifest in the various terms used by the Portuguese to
describe the Bantu inhabitants of Angola and Moçambique. Negros,
naturais, cafres are the terms with the widest acceptance, although
nativo was not unknown, and collectively the Africans were frequent-
ly referred to as o gentío, or the heathen people, or a gente da terra,
people of the land. The absence of a single or even predominant term
for the African is possibly more than accidental; it may reveal the
limited extent to which the African figured in Portuguese policy and
preoccupations. All of these names have been largely replaced by the
word indígena, which gained currency in the nineteenth century and
has since become both the legal and popular term; its acceptance has
roughly paralleled the increasing concern of Portugal for such matters
as native policy. Preto (black) is an expression widely used, sometimes
affectionately, sometimes scornfully, in Portuguese Africa, while
negro seems to be less used than formerly. Only in the last several years
have the inhabitants of Angola and Moçambique been occasionally
referred to as africanos.
Only in Angola, Moçambique, and Portuguese Guinea does the
word indígena have legal significance (other fragments of the empire
— Portuguese India, Macao, the Cape Verdes — are considered cui-
Agricultural project for Portuguese settlers, Cela, Angola
Convalescent center for African workers, near Beira, Moçambique
 NATIVE POLICY 291
turally as well as politically assimilated with the metropolis and their
inhabitants called Portuguese), and only in these areas do special
policy and legislation exist for the majority of the population. Defined
by a statute of 1954, the indígena is a person of the N e g r o race w h o
is governed by the customs of his own society and has not yet evolved
to a cultural level — or state of civilization — which would permit
him to be governed by the same laws as a Portuguese citizen. Thus the
inhabitants of the African possessions fall into two judicial categories:
indígenas and nao-indígenas (whites and assimilated Africans or mulat-
toes). In practice a third category, that of the assimilated African, or
assimilado, is commonly recognized, if not legally sanctioned, and
every provincial census contains statistics on this third category.
In affirming the bases for its present native policy, whose goal is
specifically the elimination of the indígena as a separate element of the
population in the African colonies and the ultimate identity of these
areas with Portugal, the government has of course emphasized "the
traditional principles and methods of Portuguese colonization." Be-
yond the aspirations of the sixteenth-century Congo experiment, the
mission work of the Jesuits and Dominicans, and the humanitarian
suggestions contained in the reports of a f e w enlightened colonial
governors, contemporary enthusiasts have been hard put to find fac-
tual evidence for a positive native policy in the centuries past and have
had to rely for the most part on abstractions and allusions to the
multi-racial societies of Brazil and India. But since many Portuguese
are convinced that the history of their relations with the African has
a special character and since this conviction has to a certain extent
determined present philosophies, the concept of Portuguese traditions
in Africa cannot be ignored. One of its clearest expressions is by Bahia
dos Santos, contemporary historian of Portuguese colonialism.

The traditional concern for the improvement of native peoples as a

factor in the progress of the human condition, apart from the undeniable
economic advantage which it represents, has always constituted one of the
fundamental characteristics of our overseas policy. Thus it is that, con-
trary to what happened with the majority of other colonizing nations,
Portugal has always succeeded in reconciling overseas the material inter-
est . . . with the realization of a task of universal significance for the
elevation of the mentality of the most backward peoples.
Endowed by nature with exceptional qualities of sympathy and at-
traction for their fellow men, the Portuguese were fortified in these senti-
ments by the sublime doctrine of Christ, which was the maximum stimu-
lation for these very qualities. In the establishment of factories and in the
campaigns of penetration, the navigators, explorers, and merchants were
2Ç2 PORTUGUESE AFRICA
followed by priests and missionaries who began the first friendly contacts
which, based on absolute equality, were designed to inspire in the neo-
phytes those same principles which, followed by all men, would guaran-
tee peace and prosperity in the whole world.
The gradual integration, or assimilation, which today is said to have
been the characteristic of Portuguese native policy in the earliest days of
our overseas action was nothing more, therefore, than a way of follow-
ing the dictates of our moral and religious sentiments. It is a question then
of a native policy more spontaneous than deliberate. In reality, the atti-
tude of the Portuguese toward the native peoples was not in those early
times adopted for any specific political purpose. In the beginning of the
Portuguese colonization, in the matter of relations with the natives the
means were the end. Only much later, in the face of techniques adopted
by other colonizing powers, techniques which could not serve us as an
example without going fundamentally against our characteristics of social
behavior, does this attitude arise as a body of doctrines which is today
called Portuguese native policy. 1
"Our whole policy," writes Moráis Cabrai, "has been and continues
to be to improve the cultural, economic, and social level of the Negro,
to give him opportunities, to drag him from his ignorance and back-
wardness, to try to make of him a rational and honorable individual,
worthy of the Lusitanian community." 2 Protection of the African, a
detached humanitarianism, or an anthropological interest in his cus-
toms is not sufficient justification for a native policy in the Portuguese
view; they argue that such a policy leaves the African in the same in-
ferior position he has always held. The creative quality of Portugal's
work in Africa, they say, is that it draws the African into a modern
Christian community, gradually replacing his tribal values with the
more substantial ones (i.e., the importance of the family and the digni-
ty of labor) of Portuguese society. Historically this has been an ac-
cidental process; now it is national policy whose larger goal is com-
plete spiritual assimilation and political unity. The insignificant trickle
of Africans assimilated in the past and the fact that the present popula-
tions of Angola and Moçambique are increasing at a much greater rate
than they are being culturally integrated does not seem to shake Por-
tugal's convictions of the eventual triumph of her scheme.
By assimilation, however, the New State did not originally mean,
as government spokesmen pointed out at great length in the 1930's and
1940's, assimilaçâo uniformizadora, that is, the Liberals' policy of pro-
claiming the African subject to the same laws and political institutions
as citizens of metropolitan Portuguese. Such ideas were regarded as
harebrained philanthropy and a foolish and unrealistic attempt to
compensate the African for centuries of slavery. Much of the admira-
 NATIVE POLICY 293
tion for Enes and Mousinho in the last thirty years has been because
they led the resistance to these Liberal colonial policies. In the present
decade, however, there is some evidence that the Salazar government
is taking another tack in its colonial policy, is abandoning its earlier
philosophy of what might be called selective assimilation, and is now
directing its attention to the assimilation of the entire African popula-
tion. Significantly, the attacks on the Liberal ideals of the nineteenth
century have diminished. T h e colonies have become provinces, and
the language used in the latest legislation has more than a vague sim-
ilarity with that of nineteenth-century decrees. But it would be rash
to suggest that any real change of attitude is taking place in the Over-
seas Ministry; it is more likely that the Portuguese government is pre-
paring a legalistic fortress against the anticolonial attacks it must sure-
ly face.

Much of the legislation regarding the African has been a continua-

tion of the Estatuto polìtico civil e criminal dos indígenas das colonias
de Angola e Moçambique of 1926. Drawn up by Colonial Minister
Joäo Belo, an Enes admirer, it had a hard conservativism beneath its
theoretical visions of spiritual integration. T h e new law, according to
Silva Cunha, was oriented by t w o dominant ideas:

One of these is to guarantee the natural and unconditional rights of

the native whose tutelage is confided to us . . . and to assure the gradual
fulfillment of his moral and legal obligations to work, to be educated, and
to improve himself . . . The other is to lead the natives, by the means
appropriate to their rudimentary civilization — so that the transforma-
tion from their own customs and their own habits may be gentle and
gradual — to the profitable development of their own activities and to
their integration into the life of the colony, which is an extension of the
mother country. The natives are not granted, because of the lack of
practical application, the rights associated with our own constitutional
institutions. W e do not impose on their individual, domestic, and public
life, if it may be called that, our political laws, our administrative, civil,
commerçai, and penal codes, our judicial system. W e maintain for them
a juridical system consistent with the state of their faculties, their primi-
tive mentality, their feelings, their way of life, but at the same time we
continue to encourage them constantly, by all appropriate means, to raise
their level of existence.3

T h e Statute of 1926 was replaced by another statute, very similar,

made law by a decree of 1929. This legislation, and the general prin-
ciples outlined in the Colonial A c t , the Imperial Organic Charter of
2Ç4 PORTUGUESE AFRICA
1933, and the Overseas Administrative Reform Act of the same year,
determined Portugal's policy until the early 1950's. The principles es-
tablished in the several documents are these: the goal of Portuguese
policy is to bring about the integration of the native peoples into the
Portuguese nation; this goal "must be pursued prudently, always
keeping in mind that the natives have a culture, a social organization,
and a law of their own which must be respected and maintained"; the
obligation of the state is to protect the African in his primitive condi-
tion against the abuses and control of the colonists, to protect his
property, and to supervise his labor contracts with näo-indigenas; the
African's assimilation is to be obtained through the Portuguese lan-
guage, education, instruction, and Christianity; the African is guar-
anteed, once he has acquired a civilized way of life, the same juridical
privileges as a born Portuguese.4
In stressing the traditional Portuguese sentiments of racial equality
and at the same time devising a policy founded on theories of cultural
inequality, the Portuguese government was walking a conceptual
tightrope. In reality, it was temporizing. Although the administrative
machinery of the New State made it possible to establish a close con-
trol over the African population, whose customs the government pro-
fessed to respect but whose local authority had been irrevocably bro-
ken, the task of educating, or "civilizing," the African in Angola and
Moçambique could only have been regarded as a near impossibility by
the most optimistic New State colonialist. Quite apart from the grind-
ing abuse of African labor, the inherent poverty of Portugal, the
economic backwardness of the colonies, the lack of minimal educa-
tional or medical facilities, and the absence of a technical personnel
made the goal of assimilation in the 1930's and 1940's, as in the previ-
ous centuries, a legislative dream. Hence the reiterated precautions
that the government must proceed slowly, that evolution of the A f -
rican to a civilized state is a process of centuries (the example of other
areas of the world notwithstanding), that native programs must be
studied and carefully considered before being implemented. Hence the
emphasis on the spiritual, not material, values of Portuguese culture.
Hence the safety valve of individual or selective assimilation, which
had served Portuguese interests so well in the past. The purpose of
this eloquent legislation, in spite of its humanitarian language and its
proposals for social and economic services for the African, was really
nothing more than an attempt to maintain the status quo.5
Although in the mid-1950's the process of selective assimilation
is no longer given the emphasis and publicity it received earlier, the
assimilation of the individual African, it must be stressed, has not
 NATIVE POLICY 2
95
ceased to be an integral part of native policy in Angola and Moçam-
bique. T o d a y , as then, the qualified African may attain, if he chooses,
full Portuguese citizenship and enter the ranks of civilized nonindig-
enous population of the province. T h e standards he must meet are
difficult and are stringently applied. T h e applicant must be at least
eighteen years of age and prove his ability to speak Portuguese. He
must demonstrate that he earns sufficient income for himself and his
family. H e must be of good character and possess those qualities neces-
sary for the exercise of the public and private rights of the Portuguese
citizen. H e must not have evaded military service or have been de-
clared a deserter. T h e candidate submits his application to the local
administrative authorities who, after reviewing the case, decide
whether to issue the proper identification card. Should his petition be
refused, the African may appeal directly to the district governor. T h e
wife and children, legitimate or illegitimate, of the assimilado may
acquire citizenship if they speak Portuguese and demonstrate their
good character and the qualities necessary to exercise the right of
Portuguese citizenship. These formalities may be waived and the
bilhete de identidade issued to any African w h o proves that he has
exercised a public charge, that he is employed in the colonial adminis-
trative corps, that he has a secondary-school education, that he is a
licensed merchant, a partner in a business firm, or the proprietor of
an industrial establishment.® T h e 1950 census in Angola recorded
30,089 assimilados out of a population of 4,000,000 people, and Mo-
çambique's population of 5,733,000 contained a mere 4,353 assimilated
Africans. ( A more recent — and very questionable — figure puts the
total of Moçambique's assimilados at about 30,000.) Both provinces
had about 25,000 mulattoes listed in the civilized segment of the
population. In neither province has the number of assimilados shown
any great increase in recent years.
A system as selective as assimilation, which in a period of twenty-
five years has affected the legal status of less than one half of one per
cent of the African population, has little to recommend it as an in-
strument of native policy — unless the purpose of the policy is to
maintain the degraded status of the greater part of the population.
Still less is it an effective weapon against the increasing foreign crit-
icism of Portuguese activity in Africa. T h e division of the colonial
population into the categories of indígena and nao-indígena gives an
altogether too accurate appearance of cultural racism and inequality.
Also, Portuguese authorities seem to be reaching the conclusion, re-
luctantly perhaps, that assimilation, with its attendant obligations and
doubtful advantages, is not a sufficient stimulation for the African, a
296 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

number of whom, although qualified, do not apply for the bilhete.

Straws in the wind, certain small changes in official pronounce-
ments and attitudes, reveal that Portugal's policy may be taking an-
other direction. Although government officials still warn of a prema-
ture total assimilation of Angola and Moçambique with the metropo-
lis and re-emphasize that the work of civilizing a backward people
to bring them to spiritual and political maturity must be a slow and
studied procedure, there are signs that the abhorred ninteenth-cen-
tury ideal of uniform assimilation may become a contemporary reality
and that within the foreseeable future the African provinces will
achieve the same status as Goa, the Cape Verdes, and Macao in the
Lusitanian community. Such a decision will not necessarily mean that
the government's program of spiritual assimilation has been accom-
plished. It will mean only that the government is aware that it cannot
wait centuries for the complete success of its present policies and has
chosen to strengthen its argument that Angola and Moçambique are
integral parts of Portugal by abolishing those legal distinctions which
clearly argue the contrary.
The first and most obvious step in this transformation was the
change in terminology from colonies to overseas provinces. Other
indications include discussions on the possibility of transferring cer-
tain authorities from the Overseas Ministry to other ministries (in 1949
supervision of the armed forces in the colonies was transferred from
the Colonial to the War Ministry) and the tightening of economic ties
between the provinces and the metropolis. The Organic Law of 1955
provides for the possible establishment in circumscriptions with a
large number of "civilized," not assimilated, Africans of a municipal
council, similar to that of the concelho, to assist and consult with the
administrator; this may be considered a preparation for a semblance of
local government by Africans. The Native Statute of 1954 for Guinea,
Angola, and Moçambique is less doctrinaire than previous legislation
of its kind. The token powers of the village chief are slightly increased.
The definition of the indìgena is not so precise, perhaps thus anticipat-
ing a more comprehensive inclusion of the African into overseas Por-
tuguese society. In dealing with African customs, the administrador
is cautioned to harmonize these as expeditiously as possible with the
principles of Portuguese law. Marcelo Caetano has suggested that the
classifications of indìgena and nao-indígena are too rigid to conform
with the social realities of Angola and Moçambique and that the time
has come when a reclassification, with appropriate legislation, is
needed. Between the extremes of the assimilated African and the
primitive villagers, he sees two distinct groupings of the African popu-
 NATIVE POLICY 297

lation: those who have not yet abandoned their tribal customs but
who have begun to come under the influence of European civiliza-
tion, and those who have abandoned their tribal ways but who, al-
though having acquired a veneer of civilization, are not yet sufficient-
ly Portuguese to become legally assimilated.7 Finally, in debates in
the National Assembly on colonial legislation, some deputies have
held that the provisions of the Portuguese Constitution on citizenship
should apply to a larger portion of the overseas population and that
the distinction between natives and nonnatives should be reduced so
as to extend to the former the rights of Portuguese citizenship.8 In the
one-party parliament of Portugal such remarks are seldom made at
random and usually represent some tentative aspect of official think-
ing. But the practical gain the African may anticipate from such
changes is negligible.

There are two closely related aspects of Portuguese colonialism in

Africa, mentioned before, that have created more favorable conditions
for cultural assimilation than may be found in any other part of A f -
rica, including the French territories. These are miscegenation and a
relative lack of a color bar. Although successive generations of colo-
nial authorities have lamented the lawless ways of some mulattoes in
Angola and Moçambique, calling them a threat to Portuguese sov-
ereignty, there is a stronger element of truth in the words of an Angola
governor that "these mestiços have been our best auxiliaries in the
penetration of the territory." 9 Mulattoes in both provinces have held,
and hold today, responsible positions in the colonial administrative
and business world. Their numbers are probably much greater than
the 1950 census figure of 25,000 in each colony. B y law children with
one Portuguese parent — who is willing to recognize them — are
Portuguese citizens. Although Eduardo de Azevedo has recently ex-
pressed concern over the disturbing social condition created in Luanda
by the growing number of fatherless mulatto children ("In the midst
of the Negoes I notice many mulatto youngsters — boys and girls —
children of a Negro woman and a white father. A casual white father
who abandons them to a life in the native hovels with the future con-
sequence that they will consider themselves victims of society and
rebel against it"), 1 0 there is equal evidence that the parental love of
the Portuguese, which Livingstone found so attractive, is still a pre-'
dominant characteristic of many mixed unions. The children are ac-
cepted, brought up, and educated in the Portuguese manner and take
their place without discrimination in Portuguese society. At the same
2Ç8 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

time, however, the New State exercises an informal control over the
political ambitions, whatever they might be, of the mestiço and he
frequently finds that the higher administrative offices are beyond his
attainment.11
The greatest source of Portuguese pride in Africa is a generally
acknowledged lack of color consciousness. When in all other points
of comparison with neighboring colonies the Portuguese are found
wanting, they assert their traditional acceptance of the Negro as a
fellow human. "Contrary to what happens with other nations who
possess territories overseas, we do not practice segregation, nor is the
establishment of color barriers consistent with our natural way of
being." 1 2 Manifestations of racial discrimination — toward foreign
visitors — at hotels and restaurants in Lourenço Marques have drawn
rebuke and even apologies from the Portuguese administration and
press.13 For many travelers, especially those who enter Angola or Mo-
çambique after a visit to other parts of Africa, a striking feature of the
provinces is the lack of racial tension.14
For centuries the same racial tolerance prevailing in Portugal 15 has
prevailed equally in Africa, and the Portuguese may justifiably claim,
in spite of their slaving practices, that in the past as well as in the
present their social attitude toward the African has been marked by an
easy-going tolerance and some sense of human equality. But in the
last half-century another attitude, partly originating in the inegali-
tarian concepts of the generation of 1895, has become increasingly
apparent in Portuguese Africa; it has become especially more perva-
sive in the last twenty years. Incidents in Beira and Lourenço Marques,
which the Portuguese explain away as the influence of British residents
and the great number of tourists from the Union and the Rhodesias,
are no longer isolated cases. Nor may the use of white waiters and
maids in Luanda's better hotels (leading hotels in Beira and Lourenço
Marques employ African waiters), white taxicab drivers in all parts
of Angola and Moçambique, and sharp discrimination in public trans-
portation be attributed solely to economic factors.
What is happening in Portuguese Africa is that the careful dis-
tinction between racial equality and cultural inequality cannot be
maintained once the relatively large number of white immigrants has
begun to make its presence felt. It is a logical human step, even in Por-
tuguese colonies, to proceed from laws which distinguish between
natives and nonnatives, especially when the second category is made
up mostly of Europeans, to racial distinctions between black and
white. It is likewise logical in a colonial society in which the white
population subjects the African to a growing economic repression for
 NATIVE POLICY 299

the European to justify his position by the color of his skin. Signs
on the doors of Angolan restaurants reading "Right of Admission Re-
served" are not accidental phenomena any more than are the creation
of almost exclusively white towns and colonization projects in the
interior. They signify more than a legal distinction between a civilized
man and an uncivilized one; they reflect a racist tendency intruding
into the society of Angola and Moçambique.
The provinces are still free from the extreme racial prejudices
which dominate life and thought in parts of the Union of South Africa.
In cities and towns national schools accept black and white students
— if there is space available for the African pupil. Municipal hospitals,
on the other hand, have Negro and white wards. In a few provincial
towns, principally Luanda, the border between the Portuguese and
African sections is sometimes blurred — although the scene beyond
the border in the African section is one of filth and poverty. But the
mounting color consciousness in both provinces has became a matter
of concern for thoughtful Portuguese, who take fierce pride in their
country's racial tolerance,16 and some pessimistically foresee the day
when Angola and Moçambique may no longer be recognized as the
most racially tolerant areas of Africa.
Do miscegenation and a professed lack of color prejudice provide
a sufficient basis for an African policy in the middle of the twentieth
century? Can these two forces alone create the conditions for the
assimilation of the African into the Portuguese world? Can they com-
pensate for the lack of education, the inadequate economic opportu-
nities for the African, forced labor, a police-state paternalism? In the
past the Portuguese attitude toward the African has been unquestion-
ably responsible in part for whatever success Portugal has enjoyed in
Angola and Moçambique. Portuguese tolerance and the ignorance in
which the African has been plunged for centuries probably account
for the comparative absence of racial tension in both provinces and
permit the Portuguese to boast that they have no native problems. But
what of the future? Will the African be content simply to furnish
labor to the European and to be suppressed by an increasing white
population? Will the black and white worlds in Portuguese Africa
continue to live and work in harmony, as many Portuguese rhapso-
dists claim?
From their public utterances and writings it would seem that
Portuguese officials and others of their conviction resolutely refuse to
admit any other possibility. Freyre writes that whenever the Cardinal
of Moçambique visits those Africans who have been subject to Portu-
guese influence, he is received with the greatest naturalness by people
300 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

who call themselves Portuguese and Roman Catholics, and Eduardo

de Azevedo says that "the Negroes will fight to the last drop of blood
for the liberty of being Portuguese, for the greatest pride of the Ne-
gro is to belong to a country of men who are brothers." 17 And there
is the longer, half practical, half mystical, view of Nunes de Oliveira,
a high inspector in the Portuguese colonial service, who sees the work
in Africa as just beginning.
The object and not the agent of civilizing action, the Negro must not
be regarded by the European as a dreaded or troublesome rival. More-
over, his rivalry is not to be feared but desired. Only when the Negro is
able to dispute with the European for those positions which the latter now
reserves for himself or shares with the Asian, will we be able to consider
him sufficiently evolved . . . and only then will we have the right to
proclaim that it was not in vain that we occupied a large part of the
African continent. It would be contradictory and absurd to want to
civilize the native and flee at the same time from the fatal consequences
of this civilization.
When that day, which still can only vaguely be made out in the very
distant future, arrives, the ideas of the Negro will be our own ideas, his
beliefs, ours . . . and the knowledge of this union will certainly be
stronger and deeper than the antagonisms and susceptibilities provoked by
the superficial gradations in the color of the skin.18

T o assimilate the African population of Angola and Moçambique

and to raise its standard of living to a level where the process will suc-
ceed in terms of the largest number of the provinces' inhabitants, the
Portuguese government has evolved a series of programs designed to
affect every aspect of African life. T o a large extent these programs
are a continuation and intensification of previous efforts; they demon-
strate again the difficulty Portugal has always had in obtaining posi-
tive material results from her specific policies in Africa.
T h e judicial system established for the African is one of the least
well defined aspects of Portugal's native policy. Although various
decrees determine the competence of colonial courts and the judicial
powers of the magistrates and the administrators, the relation between
Portuguese law, which is used throughout the provinces, and African
customs is indeterminate. The absence of native legal codes and even
of satisfactory compilations of customary law may be more than
oversight or the government's inability to collect and codify, at least
superficially, the tribal usages of the most important areas of the two
provinces. Early in the 1930's the hope was expressed that such a com-
pilation would be made in order to assist administrators and chiefs of
post in their duties, but although isolated tentative studies like José
 NATIVE POLICY 3OI
Gonçalves Cota's Projecto definitivo do código penal dos indígenas da
colonia de Moçambique acompanhado de um velatorio e de um estudo
sobre diretto criminal indígena (Lourenço Marques, 1946) have ap-
peared, no really comprehensive work has been done. It is possible that
in the meantime the Portuguese overseas administration has found the
vacuum convenient both for the extension of Portuguese authority
into African life and for the assimilation of the African, and has no
real intention of pursuing the project.
T h e only law officially recognized in Angola and Moçambique is
Portuguese common law, the civil and criminal codes of the metrop-
olis. Nevertheless, the prevailing legal situation for the African is
ambiguous, for successive statutes have defined the African as "an in-
dividual of the N e g r o race . . . w h o still is not sufficiently enlight-
ened and does not possess the individual and social customs to permit
the integral application of the public and private rights of the Portu-
guese citizen" and have stated that "except where the law disposes
otherwise, the indígenas are ruled by the uses and customs of their
respective societies." 19 T h e administration has sought to reconcile
this apparent incongruity b y an informal arrangement. Since there
are no native courts, civil cases involving indígenas are generally heard
b y an administrator or chief of post acting as justice of the peace. In
his mediations he is assisted by t w o African advisers, either chiefs or
other men versed in the traditions of the region, who inform him of
local customs, and on the basis of this information he attempts to make
a judgment consistent with tribal law and Portuguese policy. N o
lawyers may represent the contestants. Although such a procedure is
in keeping with Portugal's paternalistic philosophies in her conduct
of African affairs, it raises serious problems besides the denial of legal
counsel, since so much depends on the experience and understanding
of the official and since there are many complex tribal issues for which
such a system cannot provide any satisfactory form of adjudication.
In civil cases involving an indígena and a nao-indígena Portuguese
common law is applied, unless there exist special circumstances, and
Portuguese law applies in all criminal cases. Explaining the latter point,
Silva Cunha observes that "it is necessary to protect the colonists and
the natives against mutual violence and depredations, and it is evident
that this protection is not contained in native traditional law. N o r
can one forget that from contact with colonizers results the trans-
formation of the moral concepts of the native and that the Criminal
Code, closely linked to morality, should accompany this evolution." 20
Colonial courts fall into t w o categories: ordinary courts, which
are presided over by the administrative official in most native cases,
302 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

and special courts, presided over by judges, which consider more

serious cases and act as courts of appeal. Final appeal must be made to
the High Court in Lisbon.
There is no African penal code for Angola and Moçambique, and
the Portuguese code, with local modifications, applies for Africans
sentenced under the criminal code. In passing sentence the judge is
instructed to take into consideration the influence that tribal customs
may have had on the African. This modified Portuguese code pro-
vides for reparations to be made for damage done, a graduated system
of punishment conforming with the seriousness of the crime, and the
use of the African prisoner on provincial work projects. Minor crimes
may be punished by correctional labor in the region and major crimes
by assignment to public-work details in another part of the province.
The indiscriminate application of the metropolitan criminal and penal
codes in Africa has been criticized with surprising sharpness by Silva
Cunha, who points out that nothing is more dangerous than to apply
to a people of a different culture a legal system conceived for Europe;
he urges that a profound revision of the system be made to serve the
practical realities of African life. 21
There is some evidence that the Colonial Ministry is aware of the
problems and confusions growing out of the disparity between native
traditions and Portuguese law, but there is little evidence that any
serious changes are contemplated. In the preamble to a decree of
1954, relevant to the organization of municipal courts in Angola and
Moçambique, the makeshift position of the government on an African
juridical regime may be found.
T h e peculiar circumstances of the overseas provinces do not permit,
or even recommend, that the administration of justice be handled ex-
clusively b y regular magistrates. On the one hand, it is necessary to give
special heed to native questions, submitted for the most part to the tradi-
tional laws of the indígenas, the knowledge of which implies an intimacy,
as profound as possible, with local life. Only the direct representative of
the Administration, protector of the natives and constant agent of Portu-
guese culture, is the appropriate person to resolve, in principle, native
questions, using the prestige of his authority, which thus appears indi-
visible, to obtain the peaceful fufillment of all decisions.
A n d even when problems arising from the conflict between Portuguese
law and native law demand adherence to the former and justify in such
a case the intervention of common tribunals [i.e., a Portuguese court]
the process must be kept uniform, as simple as possible, because the
obligation to protect the native justifies the elimination of complex legal
processes, since these would be incomprehensible to the indígena . . .
On the other hand, the judicial occupation of the whole territory
 NATIVE POLICY

cannot prescind the intervention of the administrators in the preparation

and judgment of questions completely subject to common law. Since,
however, the complexity and multiplicity of tasks assigned to the ad-
ministrators do not permit them to handle involved judicial problems,
which only specialists can solve, the system has been evolved of assigning
to his competence only the most simple and urgent cases; otherwise, he
acts as a delegate of the common court, receiving for each case the
orientation necessary. It is believed that in this manner the judicial occu-
pation of the territory and the respect for legality will be simultaneously
assured.22

T h e loosely defined legal apparatus in the provinces does not im-

ply a corresponding lack of Portuguese control over the African
population. Through an administrative system which penetrates into
almost every African village, a series of native labor laws, and the
necessity for the male indígena to possess a caderneta (an identifica-
tion card and pass-book), Portugal maintains a sufficiently close sur-
veillance over the African population in Angola and Moçambique to
have avoided in recent years disturbing incidents like those that crop
up from time to time in other European colonies (the Portuguese
claim that this tranquillity is the result of the more idealized aspects of
their policy). But this control is not the police-state oppression exist-
ing in the Union of South Africa, and the total police force in Por-
tuguese Africa is considerably less than in the metropolis.
T h e presence of African informants, sepoys (the sepoy, generally
chosen from the ranks of African soldiers, is an indispensable element
in policing the colonies), and reliable chiefs in the midst of the African
population have helped contain dissatisfaction and nascent sentiments
of Africanism. Censorship, border control, ruthless police action, and
a supervised educational system have prevented the formation of an
effective leadership capable of arousing resistance to the Portuguese
administration. Literature and phonograph records — the latter used
to circumvent the high illiteracy rate in the provinces — of sus-
picious nature are confiscated, and the amount of political literature
circulating in Angola and Moçambique is small. It is not unknown
for Africans educated in Portugal to be kept from returning home.
Africans suspected of agitation, including those w h o have made un-
healthy associations in the Congo or the Rhodesias, are quickly jailed,
frequently beaten, and usually sent to a penal camp or exiled to a
remote point in the colonies, in Angola to the desert-bound fishing
town of Bahia dos Tigres. A mild disturbance in Lourenço Marques
in 1948 was the last outward sign of serious trouble; about t w o hun-
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

dred people were arrested, the majority, including one chief, ap-
parently being sent off to the island of Sâo Tomé. 23 A more recent
manifestation of dissatisfaction among the Moslem communities of
northern Moçambique — where Pan-Arab pamphlets and portraits
of Nasser have circulated — has been summarily dealt with.
Lesser offenses of nonpolitical nature are punished more casually,
either through correctional labor or corporal punishment or a strong
mixture of both. In keeping with the paternalistic concept of the
African, Portuguese administrators rely on corporal punishment. I
have been seriously told by a high Angolan official that "we Portu-
guese regard the native as a child and like good parents we have to
spank him from time to time." Other residents of the provinces speak
less paternally of the chicote, a hide whip, and the palmatoria, a wood-
en paddle with holes in the striking surface, used on the open palm
of the offender, often a runaway worker or an African accused of
insubordination to his white employer. Police beatings of women and
children are not unknown in Angola and Moçambique. Such excesses
have been common Portuguese practice in Africa for centuries; it re-
mained only for the New State to bring a police-state efficiency to an
informal apparatus of terror.
The most effective control over the African is established through
the caderneta, a booklet which contains the tax record and labor record
of the African male as well as the names of his wife, or wives, and
children — who are responsible for paying the tax in the event of his
disappearance — and photographs and fingerprint identification. The
bearer must show his caderneta on demand to officials and must have
it properly visaed before he moves from one part of the province to
another. Since each African male is subject to an annual tax (there
are exceptions such as chiefs, soldiers, traders, pupils, the aged, and
administrative officials) of up to ten dollars a year, depending on the
region where the taxpayer lives,24 and since he must show evidence
of having satisfied Portuguese labor requirements, through the cader-
neta the African is kept in close contact with the administration.
Should he lose his papers or should they fail to be in order, the African
may suffer unpleasant consequences, jail or correctional labor. The
repressions associated with the caderneta have in the recent past been
one of the causes of a considerable emigration of Africans from the
border regions of Angola and Moçambique into neighboring territo-
ries.
Any organization of Africans is regarded with disfavor by the
colonial administration, although there do exist in Angola and Mo-
çambique government-sponsored African societies and co-operatives.
 NATIVE POLICY 305

From time to time there spring up in different parts of the provinces

religious sects which the Portuguese regard as inflammatory and
quickly suppress, scattering their leaders. Even the officially approved
Liga Africana 2 5 has recently had a difficult time in Angola for al-
legedly trying to make representations to the United Nations. The
government has also given its support and guidance to the more
tractable Associaçâo dos Naturais, which includes both Portuguese and
mestiços among its members. These organizations are primarily social
clubs of limited membership. The one loud voice of the almost non-
existent Portuguese African press, O brado africano ( " T h e African
C r y " ) , a Lourenço Marques newspaper, has been softened to a re-
spectable whisper. But before the Salazar government got around
to extending its censorship to an insignificant Moçambique journal,
O brado africano published in 1932 a ringing editorial, entitled
"Enough," which ran contrary to all the traditional proclamations of
the African's satisfaction with Portuguese rule.

W e are f e d to the teeth.

F e d up with supporting you, with suffering the terrible consequences
of y o u r follies, y o u r demands, with the squandering misuse of y o u r
authority.
W e can no longer stand the pernicious effects of y o u r political and
administrative decisions.
W e are no longer willing to make greater and greater useless sacri-
fices . . .
Enough . . .
W e w a n t y o u to manifest, not b y laws and decrees, but b y deeds, y o u r
elementary obligations . . .
W e want to be treated as y o u treat yourselves.
W e do not w a n t the comforts with which y o u have surrounded y o u r -
selves at the cost of our sweat . . .
W e do not w a n t y o u r refined education . . . since w e do not want a
life dominated b y the idea of robbing our f e l l o w men . . .
W e prefer our savage state, w h i c h fills y o u r mouths and y o u r pockets.
But w e do want something . . .
W e want bread, w e w a n t light.
W e don't w a n t to pay, but to receive . . .
W e don't want to p a y f o r services w h i c h are of no use to us . . . f o r
institutions whose benefits w e never feel . . .
W e no longer want to suffer the bottomless pit of y o u r excellent
colonial administration!
W e w a n t of y o u a more humane policy . . .
W e repeat that w e don't w a n t hunger, nor thirst, nor disease, nor dis-
criminatory laws founded on the difference of color.
30 6 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

We have the scalpel ready.

We shall dissect your work . . .
We are daring, the result of ignorance.
We shall learn how to use the scalpel . . .
The gangrene you spread will infect us and later we will not have the
strength to act. Now we do . . . It is the instinct for self-preservation.
We are beasts of burden and like them we possess it . . .
Enough, gentlemen. Change your ways. There still is time.26

Scenes of potential unrest are the growing urban centers in Angola

and Moçambique where a rapid influx of African villagers has al-
ready begun to create considerable problems for the colonial admin-
istration. The transition of these cities from provincial or district
capitals and outposts of commerce to modern cosmopolitan centers
of provincial government and international trade has been attended in
the last several decades by the same social ills afflicting Johannesburg,
Nairobi, and Lagos. A n increasing African population, brought to
the cities as labor or drawn by the color and the economic promise
they seem to offer, has resulted in the creation of ugly swollen slums in
Luanda and Lobito and, to a lesser extent, in Lourenço Marques and
Beira. The populations of these cities have doubled in the last twenty
years. In the senzalas, or African sections, thousands of rootless A f -
ricans exist in poverty and filth, suffering an absolute lack of sanita-
tion and, in many areas, even of water. Juvenile delinquency, a grow-
ing crime rate, drunkenness,27 are only a f e w of the by-products of the
social ferment. Foreign criticism of these slums ( " A t Lobito the A f -
rican quarter lies in simmering confusion. . . Most of its huts and
hovels are made of straw and mud, and none of its inhabitants can be
said to enjoy anything in the nature of 'security of tenure'. . . All
these people [20,000] take their fresh water from five water-points
with three taps each") 28 is more than matched by the concern of
some Portuguese. Azevedo refers to the naked children of the Luanda
senzala, "the faces and houses corroded by misery." Everything —
food, transportation, water — is a struggle for the African. "It is im-
possible to be objective about the lives these people live, impossible to
forget their human condition, impossible to consider this picture of
desperate misery picturesque." 29
T o the present each provincial government has been more con-
cerned with imposing its authority over these foci of unrest than it
has with elementary facilities or housing. Infirmaries and schools are
inadequate, and housing developments for the African have not been
pushed with the same energy as have those for the white population.
N o African housing project can hope to keep pace with the popula-
 NATIVE POLICY

tional growth, but the seeming reluctance of authorities in Portugal

and in A f r i c a to deal with the situation realistically has been a dis-
couragement to both A f r i c a n and Portuguese residents of cities like
Luanda and Lobito. T h e y feel that these slum conditions will g r o w
worse and inevitably result in bitter resentments against the European
population.

T h e problems of rural Portuguese A f r i c a have not been as pressing

as those of the city, although their eventual importance to the devel-
opment and stability of the t w o colonies may be greater. T h e g o v -
ernment's land policies seem, on the whole, to be equitable. A series
of decrees from 1900 have provided that large sections of Portuguese
A f r i c a will remain available to the A f r i c a n population. In 1901 all
land not privately o w n e d was declared the property of the state. Sub-
sequent decrees have reserved large areas f o r the exclusive use of the
African, and these may not be taken away. Outside of these reserved
lands the A f r i c a n may o c c u p y vacant land, from w h i c h he may be
removed only if he is compensated and granted an equal tract of land
elsewhere, usually in the reserves. If the A f r i c a n has chosen to be g o v -
erned b y Portuguese common law, he may acquire real rights in terms
of inheritance and sale over the land he has occupied; otherwise he
may have no individual rights to it. A general statement on the A f -
rican land policy is Article 38 of the 1955 N a t i v e Statute for A n g o l a
and Moçambique. "Natives w h o live in tribal organizations are guar-
anteed, in conjunction, the use and development, in the traditional
manner, of lands necessary f o r their villages, their crops, and for the
pasture of their cattle." T h e actual rights of the A f r i c a n villagers re-
main vague, however, as do the location and extent of the native re-
serves. Points of dispute between Portuguese colonizers and Africans
have up to n o w been comparatively f e w , although some traditionally
A f r i c a n land has been absorbed b y European coffee fazendas in north-
east Angola, and some Africans have been resettled in Moçambique
to make room f o r sugar plantations. Nevertheless, government policy,
flexible though it seems to be, has drawn criticism from Portuguese
colonists in A f r i c a . " O n e can neither understand nor justify the prin-
ciple b y w h i c h the best and even the largest areas of land in Moçam-
bique have been reserved for the natives and closed to occupation and
exploitation b y European capital. . . T h e native, with an ingratitude
that is only matched b y his condemnable ignorance, does not have the
slightest interest in the soil, this sacred soil w h i c h prodigally offers
him everything he needs in order to live. . . H e exploits it as long as
3O8 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

it produces, and when it doesn't produce . . . he moves off with his

family to another area." 30
The long view of N e w State ideology sees the ultimate creation of
a modern peasant society — held to be an expression of social con-
cepts developed in Latin communities under Catholic influences —
in Angola and Moçambique. Salazar believes that to attempt to go in a
single step from a tribal way of life to a modern industrial society
(even should conditions permit in Portuguese Africa a transition
which has not yet taken place in continental Portugal) is sociological
madness. Thus an agrarian society is to be achieved through the set-
tlement of Portuguese peasants in government colonization projects,
in some of which the African is to participate, and through the es-
tablishment of African agricultural colonies, under the direction of
Portuguese administrative and technical authorities, which will create
the conditions favorable for the economic and spiritual assimilation
of the African. What this policy, still in its formative stage, really
envisions is the creation of a semiliterate population of Africans and
Portuguese holding rural Portuguese values, hard working, dedicated
to the land, and politically conservative. Presumably such a society
would absorb or divert the energies of the emergent African and at
the same time would not be a threat to the large European-owned es-
tates, which are the main economic support of both provinces.
One of the earliest projects of the Salazar government was the
formation of new villages to draw the African out of his isolation into
a peripheral contact with the Portuguese world. These village settle-
ments, with their schools, infirmaries, and co-operative farm services,
were also intended to make the African more available for labor, and
the f e w steps taken toward their establishment in the 1930's were
failures, partly because the African preferred his isolated village to
the disadvantages of being forced to work. 3 1 But the government did
not forget its native colonization schemes. Its concern was given ur-
gency by the continuing migration of Portuguese Africans to the Bel-
gian Congo and the Rhodesias, which offered them a higher standard
of living. In 1940 the Colonial Ministry drew up a draft for the
organization of the indigenous populations. African villages of at
least twenty families were planned, each with common ground and
farm buildings. Places in these villages were to be allotted to healthy
males, twenty-five to forty years of age, preferably those who had
military service or had worked on large agricultural concerns. The
colonial administration and the Catholic missions were to work to-
gether for the effective management of the villages' social, spiritual,
and educational needs. Medical and technical assistance was planned;
 NATIVE POLICY

taxes were to be waived the first year of occupancy; and the self-
supporting African would be exempt from the labor draft. 32 Colonial
governors were instructed to consider the most appropriate ways of
administering and nationalizing these villages.
A f t e r twenty years of such attempts and studies, the N e w State
began to take action in the early 1950's — at about the same time the
white colonization projects took definite shape — on the African
colonatos. A t Inhamissa, in Moçambique's Gaza district, an elaborate
drainage project is under development to render the fertile lands in the
Limpopo delta useful for native agriculture, principally the production
of rice. Still in its early stage, the Inhamissa scheme foresees the re-
settlement of thousands of African families in the area.33 Further up the
Limpopo, at Guija, a combination European-African colonato is under
construction in connection with a dam across the Limpopo and an ex-
tensive irrigation system. One of the most publicized of the N e w
State's African enterprises, the Limpopo colony is still mainly a
European settlement project. T h e neat little village in 1956 was in-
habited by Portuguese immigrants, the Africans living, reportedly
because they preferred to, in thatched huts on the margin of the farm-
ing land. Ultimately the colony will contain three thousand Portu-
guese colonists and t w o thousand Africans. Each Portuguese family
receives four hectares of tillable land and twenty-five for grazing;
each African, t w o and twelve hectares.
In Angola a similar project in the southern part of the province,
near the Cunene River, is being pushed to provide for the settlement
of six thousand Portuguese families and three thousand African fami-
lies. A t Caconda the nuclei of eight African settlements — containing
some forty small villages — have been established. By the end of 1957,
about four thousand Africans, that is, 750 families, lived, according to
official figures, on the Caconda colonato. T h e government prepared
the land (over 600,000 acres have reportedly been set aside), built an
irrigation system, and supplied the necessary seeds. Strictly admin-
istered by an agricultural engineer and a director, Caconda is a model
paternalistic society in which man, woman, and child are equally en-
gaged in work. Each village has its own farm buildings and imple-
ments. Production goals are assigned each family, and those w h o do
not achieve them because of indolence are removed from the colony. 34
Whether this latter-day re-creation of the Jesuit work farms will
prove successful in the over-all program of African integration cannot
yet be known, but first official Portuguese accounts of the work at
Caconda are enthusiastic. Northeast of Luanda at Damba, Bembe, and
Loge three African co-operative colonies are emerging and now con-
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

tain about one thousand families engaged in the growing of rice, beans,
and coffee.
The number of Africans who live or who will live in these new
villages and colonatos in Angola and Moçambique is a very small part
of the total population. Experimental projects like those at Inhamissa
and Caconda are expensive. Even should they prove successful beyond
the wildest Portuguese dreams, similar settlements cannot be indis-
criminately set up throughout the interior. T h e Colonial Ministry is
aware of these difficulties, but speaks hopefully of using to good ad-
vantage the experience gained at the model projects to establish other
more modest African villages and colonies.

Hand in hand with the government's efforts to improve the mate-

rial life of the African is the Portuguese missionary program to im-
prove his spiritual and intellectual life. Reaffirming the traditional
role of the Catholic Church in Angola and Moçambique in bringing
civilization to the African, Article 140 of the Portuguese Constitution
states that "Portuguese Catholic missions overseas and those estab-
lishments preparing personnel for that service . . . shall be protected
and aided by the State as institutions of instruction and assistance and
instruments of civilization." This is a restatement of the government's
position as elaborated in the Colonial Act. Thus once again, after the
Liberal interlude in the nineteenth century and the brief period from
1 9 1 1 to 1919, when the Republic withdrew subsidies and suppressed
Portuguese Catholic missions, the function of the Church "to Chris-
tianize and educate, to nationalize and civilize" is officially recognized.
The present Catholic missionary program in Angola and Moçambique
is governed by appropriate provisions of the Constitution, the Mis-
sionary Accord of 1940 (which develops the principles contained in
the Concordat of May 7, 1940, between the Vatican and the Portu-
guese government), and the Missionary Statute of 1941. As a result of
the agreement of 1940, property confiscated from the Church by the
Republic was returned wherever possible.
The various provisions of this legislation define the organization
and purpose of the Catholic missions. The overseas provinces are
divided into dioceses and missionary circumscriptions corresponding
as closely as possible to the administrative divisions. A t the present
time Angola has five dioceses (the archdiocese of Luanda, and the
dioceses of Malange, Nova Lisboa, Silva Porto, and Sá da Bandeira)
and Moçambique four (the archdiocese of Lourenço Marques, and
the dioceses of Beira, Quelimane, and Nampula). Mission work in the
 NATIVE POLICY

field is subsidized b y the governments of the respective provinces,

while missionary institutes in Portugal are subsidized b y the metropoli-
tan government. In principle missionary personnel must be of Portu-
guese nationality, but in cases of necessity — and the necessity exists
in both provinces, for the lack of missionary inclination continues
in Portugal — foreign missionaries may be called into service under
three conditions: the express agreement of the H o l y See and the Por-
tuguese government; the foreign missionary's renunciation of the laws
of his own country and submission to Portuguese law; and proof of
the missionary's ability to speak and write the Portuguese language
correctly. A l l Catholic missionaries, while not public functionaries,
are held to be personnel "in the special service of national and civiliz-
ing utility."
A m o n g the activities specified by the Missionary Statute of 1941
as pertaining to the Church's work are "the founding and directing
of schools for European and African students, elementary, secondary,
and professional schools, seminaries, catechism schools, as well as in-
firmaries and hospitals." T h e Catholic missions have been entrusted
b y the government with much of the educational program designed
primarily for African students in Moçambique and Angola; this serv-
ice is largely underwritten by the Portuguese government. Prepara-
tion of African teaching personnel is carried out in missionary normal
schools designated by the provincial prelate.
Both Angola and Moçambique today have over one hundred mis-
sion and parish churches served b y secular priests and fathers of vari-
ous religious orders, including the Franciscans, Dominicans, Benedic-
tines, Lazarists, and those of the H o l y Ghost Congregation. T h e y are
assisted in their labors by sisters from different orders. In 1957 the
number of priests in Angola was 387 and in Moçambique, 310. T h e
Catholic population of the t w o colonies, according to the 1950 cen-
sus, did not show the same equal proportion: 1,500,000 in Angola
(possibly an exaggerated figure) and 210,000 in Moçambique. 35
A strong antiforeign sentiment still exists against the Protestant
missions. W h i l e it would be incorrect to say that the various Protes-
tant missions are permitted by the N e w State to remain in Portuguese
Africa b y sufferance, one can hardly say that they are warmly wel-
comed. Visa control, expulsion, and continuing petty annoyances
characterize the official reaction to their presence. Much depends on
local conditions, and in recent years the Protestants in Angola have
fared better than their co-religionists in Moçambique, w h o in the
1950's are having a difficult time. But the Protestants are not without
Portuguese defenders. "In the Protestant missions . . . a meritorious
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

hospital work goes on, directed by doctors of great competence. . .

T h e Protestant missions have been, and are still today, accused of
practising denationalization among the natives over whom they exert
religious influence. If this danger existed . . . there are no present
reasons to suspect that it has continued." 30
During the years of the present Portuguese government the Prot-
estant missionary program in the two provinces has been mainly one
of consolidation in Angola and of survival in Moçambique. Of the
forty-eight mission stations in Angola, for example, only eight were
established between 1930 and 1937 and none between 1937 and 1950.
In Angola, however, the Methodist Board's work in the vicinity of
Malange and the joint American-Canadian Board's work at Dondi
have made striking contributions in the medical and educational
fields. Over 300 Protestant missionaries serve in Angola and about
200 in Moçambique. T h e 1950 census showed 540,000 Protestants, in-
cluding about 2,000 Europeans, 800 mestiços, and 6,000 assimilados,
in Angola, and about 60,000 Protestants in Moçambique.

Education in the African provinces, in which the Catholic and

Protestant missions have an important role, seems to be distinguished,
insofar as the African is concerned, by three aspects: the official posi-
tion of the government that education is an indispensable instrument
for promoting African assimilation; the perhaps unconscious senti-
ment that education for the mass of the African population represents
an implicit threat to Portuguese interests; and the inability of both
church and state to create an educational system that will serve more
than a small percentage of the inhabitants of Angola and Moçam-
bique.
Portuguese educational policy is founded in the N e w State's
mystique of Lusitanian identity. The duplication in Angola and
Moçambique of the metropolitan primary and secondary school sys-
tem is one manfestation of this concept. Like their fellow students
in Portugal, European and African pupils in primary schools are
introduced at an early age to the glories of the maritime discoveries,
the miracles of Our Lady of Fatima, and the Salazarian philosophy
of faith, toil, and family. Students in the rudimentary schools, which
are almost exclusively for the African youth, usually learn the ele-
ments of the Portuguese language and history as well as a few funda-
mentals of agriculture and hygiene. 37 In this introduction to European
learning, colonial policy sees one of the formative elements in the
African's preparation for assimilation. Through further education
 NATIVE POLICY 3 I3

and contact with civilization these rough beginnings are to be shaped

and developed into traditional Portuguese values. There is no place
in this policy for African traditions and institutions — a field of study
apparently reserved for Portuguese anthropologists. T o the contrary,
through the use of the Portuguese language and the emphasis on
Portuguese ways, every attempt is made to bring the African to break
with his tribal world.
Within the overseas educational system there are various levels
and types of instruction. In addition to the rudimentary, primary,
and secondary courses, both the state and the missions offer technical
or professional instruction on the primary and secondary levels. In
urban areas and in those parts of the provinces where there is a
substantial civilized population, a four-year course of instruction,
ensino primàrio elementar e complementar, is offered by government,
private, and a few mission schools — although the mission schools
are not primarily for the "civilized" population. In predominantly
indigenous areas, the Catholic missions, or where this is not possible,
Protestant missions or the government, offer ensino primàrio rudi-
mentär (called ensino de adaptaçào since 1956) to African children;
this provides a very elementary program of instruction of from three
to five years. On the same primary school level, the government and
the Catholic Church have established arts and crafts schools, ensino
primàrio professional.
Secondary education, open on the basis of state examinations to
those students who have completed the ensino primàrio elementar,
is offered by the few liceus in the provinces. An African graduate of
the more elementary ensino primàrio rudimentär may qualify by com-
pleting his primary instruction in the primary-elementary school and
then passing the entrance examination. There are five liceus, or seven-
year high schools, in Angola, two at Luanda, and one each at Sá da
Bandeira, Benguela, and Nova Lisboa; and two in Moçambique, at
Lourenço Marques and Beira. The course of studies in the liceus may
lead to entrance into Portuguese or foreign universities. There are
also private secondary schools in both provinces as well as govern-
ment and private technical schools on a secondary-school level. There
are several normal schools whose purpose is to prepare African stu-
dents to be teachers in the rudimentary schools in the interior.
The accompanying table shows the state of education in Portu-
guese Africa in 1954.
The difficulties which the African student must surmount in the
overseas educational system are many and account in part for the
illiteracy rate of 99 per cent among the African population in 1950
314 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

NUMBER OF SCHOOLS, TEACHERS, AND STUDENTS

IN MOÇAMBIQUE AND ANGOLA, 19J4

Moçambique Angola

Schools Teachers Students Schools Teachers Students

Primary
Government 7' 208 7.634 '39 m 10,979
Catholic 55 '47 5,920 241
Protestant
Private 27
2

31
2 802
1,161
42
'32J
\ 280" 6.454"

Rudimentary
Government 35 35 3.835 — — —

Catholic 1.356 1.543 172.313 784 800 24,618E

Protestant 26 40 6,654 '35 34' '0.743e
Private 2 2 290 — —

Elementary professional
Government 12 54 428 7 24 614
Catholic 51 106 2,764 — — —

Private 2 10 649 — — —

Commercial and technical

Government 2 74 2,094 5 61 950
Private * — — — 6 5' 1
53
Ecclesiastical
Catholic 8 I2
'5 5 — — —

High schools
Government I 56 2 55 '.283
1 956
Private* 5 44 J 20 160 '.547
Normal schools
Government — — — I 8 '3
Catholic 4 18 34' I I I •53
Source·. Based on Attuàrio de ensino da provincia de Moçambique, 1954 (Lourenço Marques, 1955),
P P . 3 9 7 - 4 3 3 , and Anuário estatistico da provincia de Angola, 1054 (Luanda, 1956), pp. 158-185.
a T h e m a j o r i t y of these p r i v a t e s e c o n d a r y schools are sponsored b y religious organizations.
b T h e source gives no b r e a k d o w n for these figures.
c T h i s is the n u m b e r a t t e n d i n g a t t h e end of the y e a r .

(the Portuguese rate was only 23 per cent, well below continental
Portugal's 40 per cent). In addition to being obliged to master a
foreign tongue, he encounters age limitations, restrictive regulations,
and lack of space in rural elementary schools. T h e maximum age
limit for entrance into the liceus is thirteen, b y which age most
African students are unable to complete their elementary education.
In Moçambique, government elementary schools are open only to
assimilated Africans, with the result that of the 7,634 students in
elementary schools there in 1954, only 322 were Africans. In most
Angolan elementary schools Portuguese students are given first con-
 NATIVE POLICY 3 I 5

sideration for the limited space available. The African student finish-
ing rudimentary schools who wishes to continue must pass an official
state examination before he is allowed to enter the third year of the
elmentary school, if there is an elementary school available to him.
In 1954, some 183,092 Africans were enrolled in Moçambique's
rudimentary schools, but in the same year only 3,898 were admitted
to the final examinations, and only 2,774 passed the examinations. In
Angola, 35,361 were enrolled, but only 1,712 were admitted to the
examination, of whom 959 passed. Education is a selective process
for the African in Angola and Moçambique. The number of Africans
in high schools is negligible, although more attend the technical
schools; the elementary arts and crafts schools are primarily for
African students. In 1954, of the fifty students enrolled in the Vieira
Machado Agricultural School at Tchivinguiro in Angola not one was
an African. Although color may play no part in the suppression of
the African's educational opportunities, cultural and economic dis-
tinctions have the same prejudicial effect.
While the number of students and schools in Portuguese Africa
has doubled, and in some cases tripled, in the last few years (on
December 31, 1956, there were a total of 85,000 students in Angolan
schools and some 284,000 in Moçambique schools, an increase of
about 30 per cent over the 1954 figures), the number of Africans
going beyond the first year of ensino rudimentär has remained
small. Much of the government's expansion of educational services in
the cities and towns has been able to absorb only the swelling number
of white students, and education for the African remains on a catch-
as-catch-can basis. The number of African teachers being trained at
the Catholic mission normal schools can scarcely keep pace with a
rising African birth rate. The quality and content of African instruc-
tion is, as it is designated, rudimentary, and often does not provide
the basis for more advanced studies, even when the African is in a
position to continue.
Not only is there no provision for popular African education in
Portugal's colonial schemes, but there is no attempt to create an edu-
cated elite. In 1948 a governmental decree provided for the establish-
ment of four training schools, two each in Angola and Moçambique,
for tribal leaders. The eldest sons and daughters of chiefs were to
receive five years of instruction in Portuguese, local government, ad-
ministrative practices, agriculture, hygiene, treatment of tropical
diseases, and road construction, after which they would return to
their villages to assist in the program of assimilation. By 1956, how-
ever, these schools were not yet in operation.
3 i6 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

Portugal's insistence that all instruction be given in Portuguese,

save for the permitted use of the vernacular in religious instruction
and in elementary instruction in teaching the Portuguese language
to the African, has unquestionably hampered the African youth in
his progress. While the Portuguese may argue that "they prefer to
raise the African to their own level, rather than lower themselves to
his," 38 in practice they often succeed in confusing and discouraging
the African student. T h e necessity of using Portuguese as a language
of higher instruction may not be questioned so readily, but the wis-
dom of basing elementary instruction on the acquisition of a foreign
tongue may be seriously debated.39

As with the educational system, both the government and the

missions collaborate on the medical and social services that are avail-
able to the African. T h e African's need for such assistance is as
desperate as it is for education, and less adequately provided for.
In the cities and larger towns, state and private hospitals serve the
urban population, although they may be said to take care largely of
the European residents, and great companies like Diamang, the Ben-
guela Railway, and Sena Sugar Estates have hospitals for their em-
ployees. With f e w exceptions these government and company hos-
pitals offer the most obvious examples in the African provinces of
racial discrimination. Separate wards and operating rooms in the
Luanda Hospital, for example, exist for European and African pa-
tients. In the interior the government has established a number of
rural infirmaries, but they can only take care of minor illnesses and
injuries, and have been called by some residents of the colonies as
another case of "para inglés ver," " f o r the English to see." Small
maternity hospitals are located in some circumscriptions, but they
are insufficient to care for more than a very small part of the popu-
lation.
Compared with past performances, the present government has
made modest advances in colonial health services, although, viewed
absolutely, these gains have only kept up with the rising birth rate
which these services have helped bring about. A large modern lepro-
sarium has recently been built in Angola — in a most unlikely loca-
tion, near the Rhodesian frontier. Under the technical direction of the
Institute of Tropical Medicine in Lisbon research in tropical diseases,
notably sleeping sickness, and preventive inoculations have benefited
the African. In 1954 Angola had fifty-three state-operated hospitals
and fifty-five private hospitals, many of these quite small and anti-
quated, and sixty infirmaries. Moçambique had fifty government hos-
 NATIVE POLICY 3I7

pitáis, thirty private ones, and eighty-two infirmaries. For Angola

the Anuário estatístico also listed 156 government doctors (about
one hundred private and missionary doctors also practice), 293 nurses
for the infirmaries, 16 midwives, and an undefined 681 medical as-
sistants. T h e Moçambique figures were about the same. For a popu-
lation in both provinces of almost ten million people, the combined
government-mission effort would seem inadequate.

T h e cornerstone of Portuguese native policy continues to be the

African's obligation to labor. If the goal of Portuguese policy is as-
similation, its achievement lies in the necessity for the African to put
his services to profitable use •— for the state, for private employers,
for himself. For centuries labor has been the essential point of con-
tact between the colonial administration and the African; today this
relationship is complicated by economic pressures for the develop-
ment of the provinces and the need for defending Portuguese policy
in Africa before the world, but these complexities have not sub-
stantially altered Portugal's position, so bluntly stated sixty years ago
by Antonio Enes, that the African should be forced, by every means
available, to work. In a sense, all other attempts to raise the African's
cultural and economic level, to assimilate him into a single Portuguese
community, whether by education, administrative tutelage, missionary
work, health programs, or colonization schemes, are peripheral to this
overriding obligation.
A large part of the N e w State's colonial legislation and philos-
ophizing has been directed to the problem. W h i l e the brutal im-
plications of slavery and of the forced-labor regimes of half a century
ago have been softened, the attitude that produced them has changed
little. Unmoved by the comments of both Portuguese citizens and
foreigners, the Salazar government has followed in the path of tradi-
tion, answering all criticism with the remark that Portugal must be
permitted to do things in her own way, which will eventually be
acknowledged as the only way. Smarting under the memory of past
humanitarian attacks and determined to keep the colonies inviolate
from the attentions of world organizations, Portugal has refused to
sign the Forced Labor Conventions of 1930 and 1946 or the In-
digenous Workers Convention of 1936, although she did sign the
Slaving Convention of 192Ó.40
T h e belief that the African must be obliged to work is a part of
Portugal's vision of herself as a civilizing force in a primitive world
inhabited b y lazy children. " T h e blacks in Angola have to be directed
and indoctrinated b y Europeans . . . T h e Africans have not learned
3i8 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

how to develop alone the territories they have inhabited for thousands
of years, they have produced not one useful invention, made no
valuable technical discovery, no conquest that has counted in the
evolution of Humanity, and have done nothing that can compare to
the accomplishments in the lands of Culture and Technics by the
European or even by the Asian." 4 1 Having by implication placed
Portugal in the mainstream of European culture, which historically
she has been dedicated to implanting in Africa, New State colonialists
further imply that this human progress has been the result of dis-
cipline and hard work and argue that the success of their country's
policy in Africa rests squarely on inculcating the indigenous popu-
lation with these virtues. Former Colonial Minister Vieira Machado
wrote:
It is necessary to inspire in the black the idea of work and of abandon-
ing his laziness and his depravity if we want to exercise a colonizing
action to protect him.
If vagrancy and crime in whites are punished, w e cannot condone it in
blacks . . . If we scorn the white who lives on the work of a woman,
we cannot permit the African to do the same.
If we want to civilize the native we must make him adopt as an ele-
mentary moral precept the notion that he has no right to live without
working.
A productive society is based on painful hard work, obligatory even
for vagrants, and we cannot permit any exception because of race.
T h e policy of assimilation which I conceive of must be complete.
Therefore it is necessary to establish a rule of conduct for the black which
exists for the white, making him acquire a sense of responsibility. It is to
be an unenlightened Negrophile not to infuse the African with the abso-
lute necessity for work. 4 2

The problem facing the Colonial Ministry in 1926 — the year in

which the restrictive Regulamento de ¡899 was substantially altered
for the first time — and for the overseas planners in the subsequent
Salazar government has been, on the one hand, how to achieve the
two goals of the economic development of Angola and Moçambique
and the assimilation of the African and, on the other, how to avoid
the abuses associated with labor practices in the past. T o a consider-
able extent, the issue has been academic, for the very existence of
native labor codes implies a restriction of the African's freedom, and
as long as colonial legislation contains provisions that the African
must engage in productive work, repressive exploitation of him will
ensue.
Nevertheless, the Portuguese government has attempted to cur-
 NATIVE POLICY 319

tail the most obvious injustices growing out of the use of African
labor. A decree of 1926 declared that forced labor could only be
used in the public interest — which included many private projects
— and had to be remunerated. T h e Indigenous Labor Code of 1928
defined the whole area of overseas labor relations and through a series
of specific articles sought to give added protection to the African.
T h e Colonial A c t of 1930 stated that "the system of native contract
labor rests on individual liberty and on the native's right to a just
wage and assistance, public authority intervening only for purposes
of inspection," a clause reaffirmed in the Imperial Organic Charter
three years later and in the Organic Overseas L a w of 1953. Articles
32, 33, and 34 of the 1954 Estatuto dos indígenas das provincias da
Guiñé, Angola e Moçambique declared: " T h e State will try to make
the native recognize that work constitutes an indispensable element
for progress, but the authorities can only impose w o r k upon him in
the cases specifically covered b y the l a w " (Article 32); " T h e natives
may freely choose the work they want to carry out, either on their
o w n account or for another . . ." (Article 33); " T h e use of native
labor b y nao-indígenas rests on [the African's] freedom of contract
and on his right to a just wage and assistance, and must be inspected
by the State through its appropriate organs."
T h e Native Labor Code of 1928, with some unimportant altera-
tions introduced b y later legislation, is the law governing the African
worker in Angola and Moçambique. 43 It is a lengthy document, vague
in some parts, precise in others. It specifies the responsibilities of the
colonial administrator, the employer, and the worker, describes the
various types of contracts, and provides for the recruitment of labor.
Philosophically it is of a piece with previous African labor legisla-
tion, for although it attempts to correct those sections of earlier labor
laws which led to the unchecked use of the African as mío de obra,
the Código de 1928 permits almost equal abuse, particularly in the
matter of labor recruitment. 44
In a general sense, given the Portuguese policy that the African
must be taught or obliged to put his services to practical use, all labor
in Angola and Moçambique is obligatory; but since 1926, when the
vagrancy clause was eliminated as an integral part of labor legisla-
tion, the term "obligatory labor" has had a special significance, and
is one of the three categories into which African labor may be divided,
the other t w o being voluntary and contract labor. Article 20 of the
Colonial A c t states that indígenas may be compelled to work only
"on public works of general and collective interest, the results of
which will benefit them, to fulfill judicial sentences of a penal char-
 320 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

acter, and to fulfill fiscal obligations." The use of obligatory labor is

forbidden — except in urgent and special cases. The public needs
for which forced labor may be requisitioned are public works, when
voluntary workers are not sufficient; assistance in case of disaster
or disease; for the cleaning and sanitation of African sections; for
protection from dangerous animals; for local road details; for cultiva-
tion of certain lands of the African reserves in the proximity of the
village.45 Such labor must be compensated except when directly
benefiting the African — such as building and repairing roads. Cor-
rectional labor sentences may be imposed upon the African for crimes
punished under the Criminal Code or for infractions of the Labor
Code. With regard to financial matters, the African may be obliged
to work to supply the payment of taxes to which he is subject. In
Angola, the delinquent is put to work on public projects. In Mo-
çambique, failure to pay the head tax may result in correctional labor.
The distinction between the other two categories of African
workers, the contratados and voluntarios, is a practical one not con-
tained in Portuguese legislation. The voluntario is the African who
contracts directly with an employer; the contratado is the African
who is recruited, under the supervisory inspection of the provincial
administration, for work on private, and sometimes public, projects.
The Labor Code recognizes both as free labor, and although there
may be real differences in the length of contract, wages, and terms
of board and keep, the law establishes certain conditions for the
employer and the worker, whether the African is a voluntary or
contracted employee. The voluntario usually contracts his services
in the area in which he lives, although he may seek work in another
circumscription; his contract, not subject to the administrator's inter-
vention, may be for varying periods of time. The contratado is
usually recruited for work outside his region. Until 1951 Africans
thus recruited could be engaged for two years within the province
and for three years outside of it {i.e., on Säo Tomé and Principe, al-
though not in the Union or the Rhodesias), but the maximum time
limit on contracts for work within the province is now one year, and
a six-months' contract is not uncommon. A special dispensation has
been made to the Diamond Company of Angola to permit the ex-
tension of contracts made by them up to fifteen months, and the
Angolan fisheries may contract a worker for eighteen months. Any
African whose caderneta shows that he has worked six months (al-
though quite frequently his work is not entered in the caderneta)
during the last year or that he is presently employed is theoretically
exempt from immediate liability to contract his services. Children
 NATIVE POLICY 32 I

under fourteen and Africans who are sick or advanced in age may
not contract their services; women may sign for employment outside
their villages only when accompanied by a male relative. These regu-
lations are not stringently observed in either colony.
The obligations of the employer, as fixed by the 1928 Code, are
(I) to fulfill conscientiously the terms of the contract; (2) not to
demand tasks beyond the worker's ability or impose on women and
children tasks reserved for men; (3) to give the worker nutritious
food and hygienic lodgings when the contract calls for these; (4) to
provide social, medical, and educational assistance to the worker and
his family; (5) to refrain from obliging him to buy goods from com-
pany stores or his agents; (6) not to withhold any part of his wages
which are supposed to be paid locally; (7) not to take financial ad-
vantage of him; (8) to keep the worker for the time stipulated by
the contract and not to dismiss him without due cause; (9) to allow
the worker to live with his family if he chooses; (10) to prohibit the
sale, distribution, or manufacture of any distilled alcoholic beverages;
( I I ) to refrain from subcontracting the worker's services without
his consent and that of the administration; (12) to return the worker
to his village, paying for his transportation and food and lodging en
route, at the end of his contract.
The obligations of the worker are: ( 1 ) to obey all the orders of
his employers which are in accord with the Labor Code; (2) to do
his work industriously, consistent with his strength and abilities; (3)
to repay his employer for loss and damage which he has deliberately
caused; (4) not to leave his job without authorization from his em-
ployer.
The recruitment of those Africans in Angola and Moçambique
who cannot prove that they are able to pay their taxes or feed, clothe,
and house themselves and their families (that is, those who are not
voluntarios, farmers marketing a surplus, or men exempt for admin-
istrative reasons) is handled by agents or companies licensed by the
government. European-owned farms and factories, unless fairly large,
usually rely upon the services of independent licensed recruiters.
The provincial government receives applications for the number of
workers needed and grants a yearly quota to the companies or their
agents. Since the African population in both provinces is usually not
sufficiently concentrated in the area of greatest industrial and argicul-
tural need, there is seldom enough voluntary labor available, with the
result that plantations and companies must seek contract labor where
they can get it. In the past, two types of labor-recruiting licenses
have been granted, those permitting the recruiter to contract without
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

the help of the local authorities and those which have provided for
administrative assistance. This help is limited by law. The administrator
of the circumscription is instructed to give the recruiter only the
names and addresses of Africans seeking work. Recently the overseas
government has sought to reduce this kind of recruitment, holding
that if working conditions and pay scales are made sufficiently at-
tractive, private companies will be able to attract workers without
the administration's acting as an employment bureau. In effect, how-
ever, the administrative system of the circumscription and the post
and the great authority held by the Portuguese officials over the
African there make the distinction between the two types of licenses
somewhat illusory.
All contracts made with the African worker are subject to the
approval of the colonial government, either locally, when local as-
sistance is given in recruiting, or in the provincial capital, when it
is not. Through a series of instructions the Labor Code establishes
official protection for the African laborer. Living conditions are to
be inspected and the other various clauses of the Code relating to the
treatment of the worker guaranteed. The administration must hear
the worker's complaints and cancel those contracts whose terms have
not been observed. Administrative personnel must legally represent
the worker in all matters regarding the contract. Both employers and
officials guilty of malfeasance are to be punished.46
Practice and precept are not yet one in Angola and Moçambique.
Although African labor laws may hardly be called models of an
enlightened colonial policy, they still bear little resemblance to reality.
Labor practices mentioned in Chapter V I continue to characterize,
though less intensively, the recruitment and use of the African
worker. Periodic scandals involving colonial officials accused of ac-
cepting bribes for furnishing workers, the helpless often cynical atti-
tude of employers who say they are forced to purchase contract
labor, and a Luanda newspaper advertisement offering to supply
native workers, all give evidence that the minimal requirements of
the law are not being met. That government policies have not been
fully effected is implicit in Governor General Sá Viana Rebelo's
reminder to a Nova Lisboa audience in 1956 that "the natives are
human beings, endowed with an intelligence and a capacity for work
and, therefore, it is necessary that they be used properly without
being exploited." 47 The complaints are many: inadequate wages, il-
legal extensions of contracts, the use of women in advanced preg-
nancy and children on local road projects, the unlawful sale of
alcoholic beverages to contract laborers, the illegal recruiting of
Liceu Salvador Correia, Luanda, Angola
Chieftains of the Mambone region, Moçambique
 NATIVE POLICY

voluntarios and African farmers, the extensive use of child labor on

the tea plantations of Niassa and on Angolan coffee plantations,
corporal punishment of contratados by administrative officers.
The governments of Angola and Moçambique are no less open to
criticism in these matters than private enterprise. Occupying a
privileged position in Portuguese labor laws, they make extensive
use of contract and obligatory labor on harbor and transportation
projects, and the official treatment of the African worker offers small
example to the nongovernmental employer. The African continues
to be regarded as mho de obra — in spite of all New State contentions.
The indiscriminate use of his labor can hardly strengthen his con-
victions on the value of Portuguese culture. Even the staunch de-
fender of Portuguese policy in Africa, Colonel F. C. C. Egerton,
mildly questions the ultimate result of the contract labor system:
"The avowed object of the Portuguese is to make the primitive na-
tives realise, first, that progress is a good thing, and, second, that it
can be obtained only by accepting the duty to work. Taking a man,
contrary to his inclination, from his family and from the lands he re-
gards as his own to work, let us say, for twelve months in the diamond
mines or on a coffee plantation, may, at least temporarily, be a nec-
essary measure, but its cultural effect is more likely to be harmful
than otherwise." 48
Probably the most persistent irregularities in the administration
of the labor code occur, as in the past, in the actual recruitment of
the worker. In many cases recruiting practices are more flexible and
informal than the law foresees. One common procedure seems to be
for an employer to request a certain number of workers from a
cheje de posto, who fills the quota with tax delinquents or men
whom he persuades the local chief to supply. The official is usually
rewarded for his intervention. The problems of large companies,
whose needs are greater, are more complex since their requisitions in-
volve more officials, but in many parts of the provinces the same
procedure prevails. The manager of one company has remarked that
without bribes and intrigue he could not obtain sufficient labor for
his plantation. Recent dismissals and public trials of officials have not
yet succeeded in eliminating these practices.
Now more than ever before the concept of the African as a
source of cheap labor is being shaped by economic factors. This is
especially true in Angola where the pace of development is quicker
and the number of workers scarcer. In Moçambique, more leisurely,
more deliberate, the European attitude toward African labor is per-
haps less aggressive and demanding. The need for labor in the com-
324 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

paratively rapidly expanding economies of both provinces, but

particularly in Angola, and the natural reluctance — to use Portu-
guese phraseology — of the African to do manual labor have intensi-
fied a problem which has been growing since the beginning of the
century. It is apparent that the legislation introduced by the N e w
State has not solved the problem. Nor has the technological progress
of the two colonies been rapid enough to reduce or equalize the
demand for workers. In the continuous discussion on how to resolve
this classic colonial dilemma two lines of argumentation may be seen.
One, less frequently expounded but nonetheless popular, maintains
that present labor laws are not firm enough to get the maximum
labor from the available supply ( " A s long as the natives enjoy six
months of holidays every year and can emigrate to the neighboring
colonies . . . the problem cannot be solved"). 49 A second view
maintains, with many references to other European territories, that
the African is offered no incentives, only compulsion, to take up
regular employment ("Nothing has been done by the European to
give him a new mentality. On the contrary, the low prices paid him
for his goods [and services], the high prices charged him for what
he needs, drive him to further abstinence and keep him from acquir-
ing new habits which would lead to new and higher production"). 50
This reasoning is in part valid, for the wage scale for African labor
in the Portuguese provinces is among the lowest on the continent.
For the Portuguese government, committed both to stimulating
the material growth of Angola and Moçambique and, on paper, at
least, to the cultural elevation of the African and the development
of native agriculture, the existing labor laws are at best a compromise.
But can a satisfactory solution to this economic and human problem
be found as long as the government and provincial employers con-
tinue to think of the African as nothing more than labor to serve
European interests and as long as a newspaper editorial, from which
the following quotation is taken, can be said to reveal a fundamental
Portuguese attitude?
But for all the effective resources of the overseas soil and subsoil to
be exploited and developed, for their intensive and extensive exploita-
tion, much work, much perseverence, much human effort is absolutely
necessary. Translated into everyday speech, this means that an abundant,
permanent, and very reliable mäo-de-obra becomes fundamentally in-
dispensable. Now, this laboring force can only be supplied by the
native . . .
It has been more than once demonstrated that the white man in Africa
cannot carry out heavy tasks, which demand a fatiguing and exhausting
 N A T I V E POLICY 325
human effort. The climate . . . does not permit it. He may only be
given the task of directing and of guiding, administratively and tech-
nically. Other tasks are naturally reserved for the Negroes, since they
are the only ones capable of carrying them out, because of their physio-
logical function and their ancestral adaption to an environment which,
though harmful to the European, is familiar to them. And one should not
be amazed that this is what happens.51
The Portuguese African labor supply has been constantly dimin-
ished by temporary or permanent emigration from the colonies to
surrounding territories. A large part of this emigration is regulated
by various accords between the Portuguese government and the
Union of South Africa and the Rhodesias or by provisions of the
Labor Code, when workers in Angola or Moçambique contract to
work in the islands of Sâo Tomé and Principe. The number of
workers annually recruited by the Witwatersrand Native Labour
Association in Moçambique for the Transvaal mines now runs from
about eighty to one hundred thousand, and the yearly total work-
ing in the Rhodesias is over one hundred thousand. From fifteen
to twenty thousand Angolan laborers annually contract, for work in
Northern Rhodesia and South-West Africa, while perhaps six thou-
sand, mostly now from Moçambique, go to the Portuguese islands.
All the contracts are for one year, with provision for a six-month
extension, and repatriation is insisted upon. The arrangement is not
an entirely satisfactory one for the colonial governments, since the
number of Africans contracting for work in other territories is a
serious drain on the local labor supply, and there is also the danger,
in recent years, that a part of the workers may become politically
contaminated during their stay outside Portuguese frontiers. But
these inconveniences are outweighed, especially in Moçambique, by
economic advantages and the realization that it is more profitable
and safer to regulate the emigration as much as possible.
There is a comparable clandestine immigration into the Congo,
Nyasaland, the Rhodesias, and the Union. The number of Portu-
guese Africans fleeing the labor policies of the two provinces or seek-
ing higher wages and a relatively higher standard of living elsewhere
can only be estimated, for frequently the African returns to Portu-
guese territory after a short period abroad. Marcelo Caetano calculates
the number of Portuguese Africans living outside Angola and Mo-
çambique at about five hundred thousand for each province.62 Other
estimates run as high as one million for Angola alone. These high
figures present some embarrassment to Portuguese colonial officials,
revealing as they do some inadequacy in Portugal's policies in Africa.
326 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

Government spokesmen attribute much of the emigration to the

African's "childish desire for useless gewgaws." They also point with
pride to the delegations of Portuguese Africans living in the Congo
or the Rhodesias who gather to welcome Portugal's president on his
visits to the overseas provinces; these spontaneous gatherings are said
to reveal the purity of the African's Portuguese sentiments. At the
same time employers in the overseas provinces are urged to raise
wages as one means of counteracting this flow.
The international controversies over native labor policies in which
Portugal has been embroiled for one hundred and fifty years tempo-
rarily abated in the early years of the Salazar regime. Humanitarian
attentions, drawn to other parts of the world, were directed only
occasionally to Portuguese Africa, and from 1930 to 1945, Angola
and Moçambique were undisturbed by any except passing criticism.
Also, new colonial legislation and official pronouncements gave the
impression that the government was making serious efforts to correct
past abuses.53 Intermittent reports and correspondence from the Inter-
national Labor Office and a small controversy in the middle 1930's
were the sum of the criticism. Since the Second World War, how-
ever, Angola and Moçambique have begun to receive their share —
small, but growing — of the revived interest in the African con-
tinent. Not only that section of the English press (such as the
Manchester Guardian, The Anti-Slavery Reporter, and the New
Statesman) which have long questioned Portuguese African policy,
but other newspapers, periodicals, and studies have touched on labor
conditions in the two provinces. A. T . Steele, writing in the New
York Herald-Tribune in 1948, summed up in familiar language the
situation in Angola: "When an Angola plantation owner requires
labor, he notifies the government of his needs. The demand is passed
down to the village chiefs, who are ordered to supply fixed quotas of
laborers for their communities. If the required number is not forth-
coming, police are sent to round them up. These contract laborers
are paid a wage sufficient for their sustenance, but no more." 54 Brian
Parks, writing in the Johannesburg Star (March 7, 1958) tells the
story of economic bars, forced labor, and the bad treatment of
Africans in Angola. Quoting a Portuguese official, he writes: "The
state can conscript them for six months' labour for work on the roads,
the railways, the plantations — for anything. We feed them and
clothe them. Of course, we pay them. We pick them up, we use
them, then we return them to where they came from . . . W e can
transfer trouble-makers from one of our provinces to another and
we do so." The journalist's conclusions are: "There is no doubt their
 NATIVE POLICY 3^7
treatment is shocking. Floggings and beatings are the rule rather than
the exception." In the American periodical, Africa Today, Elizabeth
Landis scoffs at Portugal's contention that Angola and Moçambique
are parts of Portugal and do not come under Article 73 (E) of the
United Nations Charter. Maintaining that the colonies are non-self-
governing territories, Miss Landis quotes liberally sections from
letters reportedly sent from Angola to the Secretary General. Labor
gangs, exile, terror, poverty, malnutrition, abuse of pregnant women,
children, and the aged are the substance of this correspondence. 55
T h e sentencing in 1958 by the Portuguese government of Cap-
tain Henrique Galväo to sixteen years imprisonment for alleged
political crimes brought a storm of criticism from various segments
of the English press and a formal protest from the English Liberal
Party to the Salazar government. T h e Manchester Guardian reviewed
the history of Galvâo's trouble with the regime — previously told
by Basil Davidson in The African Awakening — which dated back
to his 1947 report on forced labor conditions in Angola. Galväo, a
high inspector in the colonial service and deputy for Angola as well
as an eminent historian, submitted to the Colonial Ministry a report
on neoslavery in Angola. T h e report was subsequently published b y
the opposition, and in 1951 Galväo was jailed during an election
campaign. His fate has become identified with repressive Portuguese
policy in Africa, and the Manchester Guardian saw in the extended
sentence an attempt by the Salazar government to gag any future
criticism of this policy. 58
But the bête noire for the present government has been the Eng-
lishman Basil Davidson who, in articles appearing in Harper's Maga-
zine and the New Statesman and in his book on the Belgian Congo
and Angola, The African Awakening (1955), angrily established
himself in the tradition of Nevinson, Cadbury, and Ross. Commis-
sioned by Harper's to write an article to commemorate the fiftieth
anniversary of Nevinson's visit, Davidson went to Angola in 1954.
He saw little change from the days of A Modern Slavery. Serviçais
had become contratados, but the system of labor exploitation con-
tinued unabated ("Forced labour is the economic flywheel in
A n g o l a " ) . In Davidson's eyes, brutality, appalling living conditions,
unreasonable taxes, and racial discrimination characterize Portuguese
treatment of the African in Angola. He concludes that the Portuguese
administration has shown itself unable to alter its course and is surely
driving toward ruin.57
Portugal's response to Davidson's philippic was prompt, if not
convincing. In 1955, the General A g e n c y for the Overseas Terri-
328 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

tories published a thirty-page pamphlet, Angola without Prejudice, de-

fined by its author, F. C. C. Egerton, as "Some comments on the mis-
representations of a remarkably hasty investigator." Egerton's tech-
nique in answering Davidson's charges is in a familiar mold: he argues
that Davidson was in Angola only ten days, hardly a sufficient time
to get a comprehensive picture; he points out that Davidson does not
name many of his informants (Egerton does not mention administra-
tive harassments suffered by those who have given derogatory in-
formation in the past); he attempts to trace Davidson's steps and
get contradictions from the people with whom Davidson admits hav-
ing spoken; he quotes government spokesmen and statistics to prove
that Davidson was either wrong or inaccurate (he says that where
Davidson spoke of 379,000 contratados, official government figures
showed only 142,674 in 1953 and 99,771 in 1954). The gist of
Angola without Prejudice is that in Angola Portuguese labor policy
is one of humane tolerance and enlightenment. The right of the Portu-
guese government to force the African to work Egerton seems to
accept without question. Nor does he discuss the point raised by
Davidson that racial discrimination is becoming a reality of Angolan
life under the influx of white immigration. In many ways Egerton's
pamphlet does not answer Davidson's essential condemnations.
More important than the issue of contract labor is Portugal's na-
tive policy in its totality: its mystique, its attitudes, its legislation,
and the reality. So long as this policy is founded on the assumption
that Angola and Moçambique are to be white men's colonies, it will
fail to serve the legitimate interests of some ten million Africans.
The New State has brought to the provinces the ideological trappings
of a pseudo-benevolent paternalism and a superficial prosperity, en-
joyed mostly by several thousand Europeans, but it has not broken
with the unrewarding traditions of the past. It has instead accepted
them, used them when possible to practical advantage, and sought to
create from them an intensely nationalistic colonial policy. It may
well be true, as the Portuguese themselves sometimes confess, that
they have the vice of history, for, as I have remarked elsewhere, they
seem strangely intent, as far as the African is concerned, on per-
petuating the past into the future.
 XIII

T H E N E W S T A T E IN A F R I C A :
PROJECTS AND PROBLEMS

Τ HE attentions of the Salazar government have been directed

to other aspects of Portuguese Africa besides native policy and colonial
administration. T o a large extent these questions — economic policies,
colonial development, immigration, and international relations —
have been approached in typical N e w State fashion, rhetorical
abandon and practical caution. Since Portugal's policy in dealing with
these problems is of recent improvisation and since they are so closely
tied to changing events in both Portugal and the rest of the world,
it is almost impossible to do more than suggest general patterns that
have emerged in recent years. But since past performance in Portu-
guese Africa has usually pointed the way into the present, it may be
that the present is a fairly secure indication of future progress in the
colonies.
Where the results of the N e w State's native policies, for ex-
ample, have been largely sterile, in material development the prov-
inces have shown genuine moderate progress, especially since the
middle 1940's. This has been a period of general prosperity in Africa
in which the Portuguese colonies have naturally shared, and it may
be, as some have claimed, that Angola and Moçambique would have
shown an even greater expansion had metropolitan controls over
the provincial economies been less and the government's policies
more imaginative. But it was Salazar's rigorous bookkeeping which
pulled Angola from backruptcy after the chaotic 1920's and set a
conservative economic pattern which carried both colonies through
3 30 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

the financial crises of the 1930's, thus permitting them to take advan-
tage of the favorable conditions of the 1940's and 1950's.
Identity with the metropolis is the government's goal in the
economic organization of the colonies, although the goal is still un-
realized because of special circumstances prevailing in Portuguese
Africa. What is envisioned is the gradual integration of all colonial
economies into the general economic complex of the Portuguese na-
tion; specifically, this seems to mean the free passage of citizens,
capital, and products within the national territory. The economic
character of each province, it is realized, will create local differences
in their financial policies, but the interests of all the overseas provinces
will be considered together and economic programs established in
accordance with the general orientation of the metropolis. Both
Angola and Moçambique now enjoy some financial autonomy and
submit their own budgets, which are evolved within the patterns
established by Lisbon. The provinces, however, are restricted from
contracting foreign loans, and all charter concessions of importance
are arranged by the Lisbon government.
The economic problems of the provinces were one of the first
tasks undertaken by the new government in the early 1930's. Even in
1929, Salazar remarked that "it would be in vain to restore the finances
and economy of the metropolis if a similar effort were not realized in
the colonies, principally Africa, and particularly Angola . . . Our
colonial possessions must have balanced budgets which contain normal
provisions for the operations necessary for programs of development
and economic expansion." 1 As a part of a general plan to activate
the business life of the colonies and to create a sound economic struc-
ture in each, Colonial Minister Armindo Monteiro made an inspec-
tion of Portuguese Africa in 1932. In the following year was held the
first Conference of the Colonial Governors, whose purpose was to
study the reorganization of the colonial economies and to forge a
new solidarity between Portugal and the overseas territories. Al-
though not all the suggestions made by the Conference were imple-
mented, the meeting did establish a general economic program which
has been followed in the last twenty-five years.
Among the steps considered by the Conference were to increase
and adjust colonial production within the realities of the world
market; to replace, wherever possible, foreign products with colonial
products in the home market; to abolish colonial reliance on trade
barriers and artificial forms of protection; to encourage a selective
immigration of Portuguese colonists; to attract capital to Portuguese
Africa; to introduce new agricultural techniques into the colonies.
 P R O J E C T S AND PROBLEMS 33I
The Conference also concentrated on plans to revise the overseas
financial structures and to rest them on bases similar to those established
in Portugal by Salazar. T h e Conference further proposed an overseas
tariff commission to study a general reform of tariff policies. Finally,
the Conference stressed the necessity for publicizing the Portuguese
overseas possessions through a series of exhibits, publications, and
similar programs. 2
The budgets of Angola and Moçambique have been balanced
since 1931, and in most years have shown a respectable credit balance.
From 1946 to 1953, for example, the budget of Moçambique showed
an annual surplus of about seven million dollars. In the 1930's and
1940's this was accomplished by a ruthless curtailment of imports
and by a somewhat more efficient financial administration overseas.
In the last fifteen years, the economic expansion of Angola and Mo-
çambique has further increased this credit balance (the value of
Angola's exports in 1954, for example, was twelve times that of the
average for the years 1926-1930). The budget for each province
in 1956 was approximately seventy million dollars, as contrasted with
typical budgets of the early 1930's, which averaged from six to ten
million dollars a year. The major portion of each budget is still al-
lotted to administrative expenses, although the amounts going into
provincial development projects increase each year. Nevertheless the
funds available for medical and educational services are totally in-
adequate, and the provisions in the budgets for direct assistance to
the African are negligible. Among the proposed 1957 expenditures in
Angola were two items for $140,000 each, one for public monuments
and the other for African housing.
Only since 1948 has the overseas tariff policy undergone serious
changes. Traditional Portuguese practice through the first half of
the century — and even earlier — had been to collect import duties
on all goods entering the African provinces, whether from Portugal,
other Lusitanian colonies, or foreign countries; Portuguese goods,
and to a lesser extent nationalized goods, enjoyed a strongly pref-
erential position. Duties on foreign goods were generally two to five
times higher than on those of Portuguese origin. Most of the duties
were collected on an ad valorem basis, although certain articles, no-
tably those intended for the African trade, such as cotton goods,
shoes, hoes, and wines were subject to specific duties. The changes
introduced in the tariff regimes of Angola and Moçambique in the
last ten years have not drastically altered Portugal's mercantilist
policies. But the barriers on trade between the imperial colonies,
though not with the metropolis, have been lowered and may soon
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

be eliminated. Other changes have been introduced; to accelerate

colonial development, import duties on machinery, tools, vehicles, and
selected raw materials were reduced. Portuguese industry, however,
continues to benefit from a preferential tariff, especially on such
items as manufactured cotton, alcoholic beverages, cork, glass,
matches, and when either the high cost of these Portuguese articles
or the superiority of the same articles manufactured elsewhere nullifies
the advantage of this preference, limitations or even prohibitions are
placed on foreign goods by an import control board. In addition to
normal import duties, colonial imports are frequently subject to sur-
charges, municipal tariffs, and a development fund tax. In neither
colony have the new schedules reduced the colonies' essential budg-
etary reliance on import duties. Business men in both provinces com-
plain that in reality tariffs have increased, not decreased, on most goods
coming into Portuguese Africa and that the customs charges are so
high that its economic growth is being held back.
One of the most significant triumphs of Salazar's economic policies
is that the colonial governments may now count each year on a rea-
sonable income from the direct taxation of companies and individuals.
Until very recently the mainstays of provincial budgets were import
and export duties, the African head tax, and the contributions of
concessionary companies, and these still form the largest part of an-
nual income. But with the customs reforms of the late 1940's and early
19jo's, revisions in the overseas tax structure were introduced: in-
dustrial taxes, professional income taxes (which run from 1 per cent
to a maximum of about 7 per cent), a building tax, taxes on com-
panies exploiting the resources of the land and sea, and a surtax on
large personal or business incomes were put into effect. These taxes
are scarcely high enough to discourage personal or business initiative
(the head tax takes, comparatively, from the African a much higher
percentage of earned income), but in the last f e w years they have
brought in substantial revenue to the provinces and indicate the
changing economic patterns of Angola and Moçambique. 3
But the economic picture is not entirely favorable. Portuguese
Africa's reliance on goods of foreign manufacture, its high tariff
policies, and the Portuguese merchant's disposition to put excessive
mark-ups on imported commodities have created a high cost of living
in the colonies. Although no accurate price index exists, it is reliably
estimated that the cost of living has more than doubled in the last
twenty years with no corresponding increase in income for either the
African or the majority of the European population. T h e African's
purchasing power in the provincial economy is low; high taxes, low
 P R O J E C T S AND PROBLEMS 333
wages (in 1956 the minimum wage for the agricultural worker in
Moçambique was from two to eight dollars a month, depending upon
the region, for the industrial worker from about three to ten dollars
a month, and for the African craftsman about a dollar and a half a
day), and the fixed ceilings on the prices he receives for his crops have
kept the African worker and farmer in a chronically depressed state.
For the Portuguese worker who comes to Africa to escape the poverty
of the metropolis, life is difficult. Only the higher administrative of-
ficials, the merchants, and the successful fazendeiros prosper in Angola
and Moçambique. One Portuguese visitor to Angola estimated that
80 per cent of the white population lived on the edge of poverty.
" T h e cost of living is the greatest absurdity I encountered on my
Angolan trip . . . being, without exaggeration, 100 per cent higher
than in the metropolis." 4

The major development projects in Angola and Moçambique up

to 1930 were primarily subsidized by foreign capital.5 T h e ports of
Lourenço Marques and Beira, the Benguela Railway, and Diamang
owed little to Portuguese capital or initiative. Since 1930, however,
the development projects carried out in the African provinces have
been financed almost exclusively by the provincial or national govern-
ments; in 1951 a credit of 455 million dollars was granted by the
Economic Co-operation Administration to Portugal for overseas de-
velopment. Until recently the government has been determined that
no extensive foreign concessions would be made again, but the tight
Portuguese budget in the last several years and a growing foreign
trade deficit are modifying Salazar's fears about foreign investment
and outside capital is being circumspectly sought for use in the colo-
nies.
National funds available for large-scale development schemes in
Portuguese Africa are limited and apportioned only after long careful
study. Consequently the advances in both provinces have been slow
in comparison with those in neighboring territories. But expansion
and improvement programs have gone ahead uninterruptedly for
the last ten years and show signs of continuing unabated. In general,
these funds have been spent conservatively on programs essential for
the colonies' growth; in a f e w cases, as in continental Portugal, money
has been used on splashy structures or projects designed "to honor
Portugal." 8
A t the end of the 1930's the government began a series of minor
development plans which, though partly interrupted by the war, have
334 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

been successfully carried out. Each new plan since then has been
more ambitious; gradually- these programs are transforming the life
of Angola and Moçambique— for a small part of the population
at least. The earlier improvement programs, utilizing the annual sur-
plus in the colonial budgets and loans by the National Treasury, were
mostly concerned with expanding port facilities and transportation
systems. In Moçambique the national government made a loan of
about thirty million dollars to improve transit communications, par-
ticularly the rail system. In 1950 the two provinces each undertook a
co-ordinated campaign to expand public utilities and communications
and to provide for increased white colonization. These five-year
plans were incorporated in 1953 into the Portuguese National De-
velopment Plan, a six-year program extending through 1958. Under
this plan Angola was allocated one hundred million dollars and Mo-
çambique, about eighty-five million dollars. A second six-year plan
was to be initiated in 1959: 237 million dollars will be spent in Angola,
125 million dollars in Moçambique. Over half the total for each prov-
ince will be used for colonization schemes and for expanding roads
and railroads.
In Moçambique the most important project in this period has
unquestionably been the Limpopo Valley Immigration Project, which
was some twenty-five years in a planning stage. A dam across the
Limpopo at Caniçado provides irrigation for almost one hundred
thousand acres — and provides as well a bridge across the river for the
extension of the Lourenço Marques rail system into Southern Rho-
desia. Here the government is establishing its largest agricultural
colony in the province. Limited work on a similar irrigation and
colonization scheme in Niassa near Vila Cabrai has also begun, pre-
sumably to coincide with the final extension of the railroad from the
coast. The tea and tobacco country around Gurué and Malema also
figure in the development plans. T o provide hydro-electric power
for Lourenço Marques, the construction of a dam on the Movene
River at a point twenty miles from the capital will be undertaken.
A lesser dam on the Revué River east of Vila Pery has already been
completed to furnish power for local industry and the port of Beira.
Port facilities at Beira and Nacala are being expanded, bridges built,
and roads improved to permit an expansion of Moçambique's com-
merce and industry.
In Angola the ports of Luanda and Lobito were enlarged and
modernized in the late 1940's and early 1950's, and the European
colonization project at Cela — model for similar projects in both
colonies — has had a successful start. The most important project
 P R O J E C T S AND PROBLEMS 335
under the National Development Plan is being carried out in the
south of Angola in the middle Cunene valley. Over thirty million
dollars will be spent in preparing the Matala-Capelungo and Quiteve-
Humbe regions f o r the largest of Portuguese A f r i c a n colonization
schemes. A s a part of southern Angola's development, the port of
Moçâmedes is building a deep-water quay and the Moçâmedes Rail-
road is being extended toward the Rhodesian frontier. T h e Matala
irrigation and hydro-electric project is under construction, re-
portedly to be completed in i960. It will provide power f o r Sá da
Bandeira and the vicinity, water to be carried in a twenty-five-mile-
long canal f o r the Cunene colonization settlements, and will provide
a bridge f o r the rail extension. T w o other power plants at Biópio and
Mabubas, the latter now in limited operation, will supply electric
power f o r the Benguela-Lobito and Luanda areas respectively. In
the Cuanza valley another scheme calls f o r the construction of a
hydro-electric plant and irrigation system near the Duque de Bra-
gança Falls. T h e Luanda Railroad will be extended and roads and
airports built. 7
Although the development of Portuguese A f r i c a has scarcely
matched that of the Belgian Congo or the Rhodesias, against the
memory of the unfulfilled programs of the early twentieth century
the achievements of the Salazar government are little short of ex-
traordinary, especially in view of the limited capital available for such
enterprises. Portugal has not until recently encouraged foreign in-
vestment in the colonies, except on its own rigid terms. Portuguese
fortunes are seldom employed in Angola and Mocambique except
under near-monopolistic guarantees. Local capital is also scarce. " O n l y
fools or careless people, or those w h o have a passionate love for this
colony — those whom w e call 'good colonists' because they bury
here everything they make, frequently losing it — dare to use their
wealth here in new undertakings. Everyone else takes from the prov-
ince all that he makes and invests it where he may have the certainty
of greater and surer gain without w o r k or w o r r y . " 8 T h e r e are some
indications that the colonies' present economic stability is at last
beginning to attract serious Portuguese investments.

While the Government of the National Revolution has not solved

the problem of how to attract Portuguese capital to Africa, it seems
f o r the present to have solved, b y design or b y accident, the equally
ancient problem of Portuguese immigration into Angola and M o -
cambique. Although the white population of Angola remained con-
336 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

stant, or perhaps even declined, in the uncertain decade from 1930 to

1940, 9 in the following ten years the number of white residents rose
from 44,000 to 78,000 and to 110,000 by 1955. Moçambique has also
shown an increase in European population that has been more con-
sistent though less spectacular: 18,000 residents in 1932; 27,500 in
1940; 31,200 in 1945; 48,000 in 1950; and probably 60,000 by i960. 10
In the 1950's Angola has been the promised land, next to Brazil, for the
Portuguese emigrant; its booming economy, its relative proximity
to Portugal, and a more receptive administration (the Moçambique
government has adopted a policy of keeping to a minimum untrained
"poor white" immigrants) give Angola advantages over Moçambique.
But the growth of both provinces has been startling and shows no
signs of dropping off. Poverty at home and exaggerated stories of the
prosperity in Africa have succeeded where other persuasions have
failed. T h e combination of this free immigration and the controlled
colonization on the government's agricultural settlements is an im-
portant factor in the changing complexion of Portuguese Africa.
H o w much of the populational gain has been the result of Portu-
gal's educational and colonization policies is uncertain, apart from the
specific number of farmers Lisbon has recruited for the agricultural
colonies at Cela and in southern Angola and at Guija in Moçambique.
But if the general trend of migration is from an area with a low
standard of living (the average annual income in continental Portu-
gal of about two hundred dollars a person is the lowest in Western
Europe) to one which offers or promises a higher standard, then the
upsurge in white population has been mostly a consequence of the
colonies' new prosperity in the last twenty years, a period in which
life in Portugal has become more and more difficult for a majority of
the people.
In the 1930's the government followed a wavering policy on
settling Angola and Moçambique with a large white element. In 1933
Armindo Monteiro spoke of the "tragic situation which would be
created by a government's transferring any considerable number of
its citizens to colonial areas with the idea of solving the unemploy-
ment and poverty questions at home. After the expenditure of fab-
ulous sums, it would merely have created a vast white proletariat in
regions where it would be difficult to succour them." 1 1 In short, the
government was not prepared and not able to sponsor the white settle-
ment of Portuguese Africa. A t the same time, however, through an
erratic campaign in Portuguese schools and publications the Colonial
Ministry attempted to convince a youthful elite to dedicate their lives
to service in Africa. Appeals were made to Portuguese women to
 PROJECTS AND PROBLEMS 337
accompany their husbands. These campaigns seem to have been
principally a w a y of marking time, an attempt to create a colonial
mentality which could be exploited at a later date, and by 1940 it
had had little practical result. A s late as 1945 the colonialist Eça
d'Almeida was urging a massive effort to colonize Angola and Mo-
çambique; some of his proposals were forced contributions from
provincial firms, regulations obliging teachers and soldiers to serve a
term in Africa, laws to force large colonial companies to establish
white settlements, and direct government assistance to Portuguese
colonists. 12
T h e most effective action the government has taken has been the
establishment of the agricultural colonies already mentioned. T h e
importance of these projects in Portugal's long-term plans must not
be minimized. Cela and Guija are more than showplaces for the
foreign journalist. T h e y are part of Lisbon's vision for colonial de-
velopment. In 1943 Salazar remarked that "the rich extensive colonial
lands, undeveloped and sparsely populated, are the natural comple-
ment for metropolitan agriculture, especially for ordinary crops and
for the raw materials for industry. In addition they will take care of
that part of the metropolis' excessive population which Brazil does
not wish to accept." 13 T h e agricultural colonies grew out of several
experiments in planned immigration made in both provinces in the
1940's, but principally in the Huila plateau of Angola. Partly because
of the hasty selection of the colonists, the lack of adequate programs
to prepare them for their new life, and the totally different environ-
ment into which they were plunged, these early experiments were
not notably successful, in spite of assistance by colonial administra-
tions which gave the colonist land, a house, and livestock. 14
Profiting from these mistakes, the Colonial Ministry began in the
1950's to carry out a more co-ordinated program designed to estab-
lish Portuguese villages, not isolated farms, in selected areas of Angola
and Moçambique. B y 1954, 260 families had been installed at the
Cela colonato on Angola's Amboim plateau, 15 where eventually t w o
thousand families are expected to be located. T h e colonists are
grouped in small farming villages of about twenty-five homes each;
each village has a combination school-church and a community farm
building. T h e family receives a house, livestock, seeds, and over one
hundred acres of farming and grazing land. Wherever possible an
effort has been made to re-create the life of Portugal; preferably all
the inhabitants of one village are from the same section of Portugal.
T h e cost of establishing one family at Cela is estimated at five thou-
sand dollars, which the immigrant is expected to repay to the govern-
338 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

ment over a twenty-five year period. The initial reaction of the

colonists was not entirely enthusiastic, and some families returned to
Portugal, but the application list has steadily grown, and the success
of Cela — and of the Limpopo project at Guija — seems assured.16
The expansion of the colonato system seems certain, particularly
in the south of Angola and in the north of Moçambique, since Portu-
gal is committed to establishing its own social and economic patterns
in Africa. Since the colonists are forbidden to use African labor and
since there is a relative abundance of land in the two colonies, which
precludes for the time being the creation of a white highlands as in
Kenya, the points of friction between the African and European
should be kept to a minimum. But the continued increase of Portu-
guese population in Angola and Moçambique does create other prob-
lems. T h e available funds and the attentions of the Portuguese govern-
ment are now largely spent on development projects which primarily
benefit the European. Angola and Moçambique are taking on the
appearance of European colonies in which the African is at best a
second-class citizen. This policy has already begun to reduce the
economic opportunities of the African in Angola as the poor Portu-
guese immigrant is now taking manual and semiskilled jobs formerly
held by African laborers. With this increased Portuguese immigration
has come a hardening color consciousness, and if present tendencies
continue, it seems likely that Angola and Moçambique will bear more
resemblance to other European territories in Africa than to Brazil, as
the Portuguese now predict.
The growth of urban areas in the two provinces has been even
more pronounced than that of the rural regions of the interior. The
clearest indication of Portugal's fortunes in Africa has traditionally
been found in the state of its cities and towns. In a general sense the
history of Luanda and Tete, for example, would tell the history of
Angola and Moçambique, their successes and their failures. From the
cautious thirties into the formative forties and prosperous fifties
Portuguese settlements have mirrored the recent transition of Angola
and Moçambique. T h e steady sedate development of Lourenço
Marques and the explosive growth of Luanda in the last ten years
reflect the changing personalities of the two colonies. Only the is-
land of Moçambique seems to have remained impervious, but even
here a modern municipal swimming pool marks the advance of a
new order.
Ancient towns like Benguela and Quelimane have acquired new
life; towns like Nova Lisboa and Nampula, only place-names on a
map in the 1920's, have became rising centers of Portuguese life and
 P R O J E C T S AND PROBLEMS 339
commerce: new towns like Vila Luso and Vila Cabrai record the
expansion of colonization into the far interior. N e w and old, large
and small, these towns bear the uncompromising stamp of continental
Portugal, for now, more than at any other time in her history, Portu-
gal is re-creating her cultural image in Africa.
Lavish cinema theaters, attractive shops, metropolitan bus serv-
ices, tourist hotels and restaurants, and imposing administrative and
commercial buildings, place Luanda, Beira, Lobito, Nova Lisboa, and
Lourenço Marques among the most modern small cities in Africa, 1 7
setting a standard which other Portuguese African towns strive to
imitate, and help insulate their European residents against the prim-
itive realities of the countryside. M a n y cities have their own news-
papers and small broadcasting stations, and various sports clubs spon-
sor athletic and social events. Luanda, Benguela, Lourenço Marques,
and Nampula have excellent small museums. In these towns and cities
of Portuguese Africa one may see at least one success of the N e w
State's policy of forging a single identity between the provinces and
Portugal, but in the process it has contributed to the formation of
two distinct societies, one African and the other European, in the
colonies.

No longer are the Portuguese African provinces regarded with

suspicion by their white neighbors; no longer are they a source of
continuous, often ill-informed attacks on Portuguese policy and be-
havior. Angola and Moçambique live in harmony with the other
territories below the equator. T h e bonds of friendship in Africa are
more than economic, although the essential relationship of Portuguese
Africa to the Rhodesias and the Union of South Africa is based on
financial self-interest. The Portuguese desire to remain in Africa is
shared equally by the white Rhodesian and South African. Portugal's
respect for the economic success of her neighbors in Africa and their
discovery that Portuguese policy is not greatly different from their
own have drawn the various areas into closer rapport. A remark
made by the Governor General of South Africa, Dr. Ernest Jansen,
on a state visit to Lisbon ("By a happy accident w e are neighbors.
I believe that we should be grateful to history for this accident") 18
is more than diplomatic courtesy. It is an expression of awareness that
the governments of the African lands below the equator have for the
moment a common cause — their survival.
Although the friendship between Portuguese Africa and the
 PORTUGUESE AFRICA

white governments of neighboring lands is a source of great pride to

the small nation, accustomed in the past to being regarded with pos-
sessive hostility, the proximity of these areas to Angola and Mo-
çambique may be the source of future dangers. The two Portuguese
colonies can no longer be considered isolated segments of the African
continent, and the turn of events in neighboring lands will surely
have repercussions in Angola and Moçambique, where the examples
in the rest of Africa have not passed completely unnoticed. Both the
policies of the new African Republic of the Congo and the dead-
end policies of the Union hold a distinct threat for Portuguese Africa,
and there is reason to assume that an emancipation of the Congo or
erupting tensions in South Africa (and perhaps in the Central African
Federation) will have their effect in the Portuguese provinces.
In spite of Portugal's good relations with colonial governments
since 1930, particularly since the end of the Second World War, a
small segment of European humanitarian opinion, predominantly
English, was openly critical in the 1930's of Portuguese policy in
Angola and Moçambique. The issues were the Portuguese use of
African labor and discussions in the League of Nations on the pos-
sibility of setting up international regulations on the sale and distribu-
tion of vital raw materials; at times these issues took on overtones of
larger political controversy, growing out of the Salazar government's
open admiration for the Fascist regimes in Germany and Italy and
the support of the Franco rebellion in Spain.
Throughout the 1930's — and the 1940's — Portugal refused to
sign the Forced Labor Convention drawn up by the International
Labor Conference, arguing that she was not in agreement with clauses
restricting the use of conscripted African labor to public works and
that local conditions demanded that each colonial power should be
permitted to deal with the problem of labor in its own way and not
be subject to conventions that could not be satisfactorily applied.19
Portugal's reluctance to sign caused occasional sharp commentary
abroad in the middle 1930's. At the same time Portugal turned down
a loan from the League of Nations for colonial development, believing
that it would place her colonies under foreign economic control. The
New State was equally distrustful of suggestions raised by the Inter-
national Economic Conference in 1933 for a study to be made of the
possible free circulation of raw materials to equalize existing irregulari-
ties. A speech made by Anthony Eden in the House of Commons in
1936 supporting this general proposal and a blunt editorial in the Lon-
don Daily Express (July 23, 1937), stating that Portugal had learned
 PROJECTS AND PROBLEMS 341
nothing in four centuries of African rule and that it would be a
blessing for the native population of these lands if they were taken
from Portugal and given to some one else, seemed to confirm Portu-
gal's suspicions that her colonial integrity was again in danger.
Portugal's position was made clear b y Salazar in a speech of 1937
on the colonial situation. He concluded with these words: "Contrary
to what everyone may believe, w e will not sell, w e will not cede, w e
will not rent, w e will not partition our colonies . . . Our constitu-
tional laws do not permit it, and in the absence of these, our national
conscience would not permit it." 2 0 Other government spokesmen
were more pointed in their denunciations, classifying all of Portugal's
real and supposed critics as meddlers, Bolsheviks, and members of
international Jewry. O n l y Hitler and Salazar, "in whose voice vi-
brated, strong and sincere, the soul of the Portuguese people," knew
how to stand up against their aggressive intentions. 21
These intermittent controversies were exaggerated b y Portuguese
sensitivities and b y the government's desire to take a strongly na-
tionalistic position in the public view. More serious has been the
recent mounting opposition from many Arab and Asian nations to
what they consider oppressive Portuguese colonialism in Africa and
Asia. W h i l e most of Portugal's disputes in the nineteenth century
with other European powers over her African possessions were,
stripped of their moralistic cloak, economic or territorial in essence,
the present attacks are primarily ideological. T h e developing debate
is pointed up b y the Indian-Portuguese argument over the enclave
of Goa, a bit of territory economically worthless, but significant to
Portugal as a remnant of her past and to India as a final barrier to
national hegemony.
In both the 1956 and 1957 sessions of the United Nations the
status of Portugal's overseas provinces has been discussed. A group
of Arab-Asian nations, vigorously supported by Russia, has sug-
gested that the provinces are in effect non-self-governing territories
and that, under Chapter XI of the United Nations Charter, Portugal
should be obliged to furnish the United Nations with periodic tech-
nical reports on these areas.22 In both sessions a motion was introduced
to censure Portugal for having failed to submit such information,
and only the skillful tactics of some Western bloc representatives
kept it from being adopted. In withstanding these motions, Portugal
plainly replied that she had no responsibility to the Council, since her
overseas provinces were political extensions of Portugal, governed
b y the same constitution and enjoying the same privileges as the
342 PORTUGUESE AFRICA
metropolitan provinces. It is not likely that the issue will disappear,
however; it seems more likely that it will intensify and possibly force
Portugal to make major revisions in her colonial policies.

For four hundred and fifty years in Africa, the Portuguese have
survived disease, native wars, neglect, and foreign attacks, surely the
most remarkable endurance record in colonial history. Today, ac-
cording to former Foreign Minister Paulo Cunha (speaking at a N e w
York press conference in 1955), Angola and Moçambique are the
last outposts of Western civilization in Africa. Although Dr. Cunha's
hyperbole may not be entirely flattering to Portugal's neighbors in
Africa, inherent in his remark is the affirmation of what Portugal has
come to consider her traditional colonizing role in Africa — to im-
plant there the alleged national and Christian values of Portuguese
society. That this "fundamental faith of Portuguese colonization"
which the N e w State has sought to reassert has had at best a shadowy
reality and that the history of Portuguese Africa has long been
marked by the disparity between principle and practice is of little
consequence, for it is on this philosophic ground that Portugal seems
determined to confront the challenge of the future with its ma-
terialistic and "separatist" ideologies.
There are forces leavening in modern Africa which will test the
ancient capacities of the Portuguese. Speaking on the rise of Afri-
canism, Lord Hailey observes that "no country can expect to isolate
itself indefinitely. There is a wind blowing through Africa, and it will
be felt in the Congo and Moçambique as surely as it is being felt
(though not, I hope, with such bitterness) in French North Africa to-
day." 23 T o such prophecies the N e w State, following the affirmations
of Salazar, replies that Pan-Portuguese nationalism ("Empire without
imperialism") will prevail against these sentiments for African self-
determination. The answer to racial tensions is the universal spirit of
brotherhood in the African colonies which transcends color, race,
and civilization. The answer to economic unrest is the Portuguese
respect for the individual dignity of the worker. T h e answer to
materialistic doctrines is Christianity. Thus Portugal is confident she
can avoid the turbulence of other colonial areas, contain the senti-
ments of African nationalism, and in the end culturally absorb the
entire population of Angola and Moçambique into a Christian Portu-
guese community.
Portugal is determined to prevail. She is presently determined to
remain in Africa and to convince the African — and perhaps the rest
 PROJECTS AND PROBLEMS 343
of the world —• that it is right for her to be there. But how much long-
er the disembodied colonial mystique evolved by the N e w State or
a traditional racial tolerance will serve Portugal's cause in Africa is
uncertain. The present tranquillity of Angola and Moçambique is
no sure indication of future harmony. As I have attempted to show
in earlier chapters, it is as much the result of ignorance and isolation as
it is of successful Portuguese policy. For the future Portugal will need
to temper her doctrines and experience with more wisdom and un-
derstanding of human aspirations than she has shown in the past.
 NOTES
INTRODUCTION

i. The Companhia de Diamantes de Angola, the formidable Diamang,

mines about twelve million dollars' worth of gem diamonds each year. Capi-
talized mostly by British and Belgian interests making up the Union Minière
Company, an extension of the international diamond monopoly, Diamang has
been since its foundation in 1920 the most important single force in Angola's
economic life. Diamonds were the main financial support in the colony's lean
years from 1920 to 1940; in recent years their importance in the total economy
of the province has been overshadowed by the tremendous expansion of coffee
exports. A new contract negotiated in 1955 extended indefinitely the com-
pany's exclusive prospecting rights, gave the Portuguese government 11 per
cent of the capital stock (it had previously held only 6 per cent), and estab-
lished a redistribution of annual profits which gave the government an addi-
tional $450,000 a year.
Diamang is a small monopolistic empire in Angola. It is exempt from taxes,
pays no import duties on mine machinery and no export duties on diamonds,
and has at its exclusive disposal the African work force of the Lunda area.
Its privileged isolated position has drawn through the years a clamor of odd-
assorted protests from nationalists, who believe that Portugal was hoodwinked
by clever foreign capitalists; from liberals, who have scored the wide scope
of authority granted the company; from colonists in Angola, who resented
the special favors received by Diamang; and from traditional defenders of
Portuguese policy in Africa, who think that the company's clinical efficiency,
its hauteur, and its isolated position represent the antithesis of Portugal's colo-
nizing spirit. In reality, Diamang, which is the largest private employer of
African labor in Angola, has a record no better and no worse than that of
any other concessionary company in the Portuguese colonies.
Whether the oil strike near Luanda will rival the importance of diamonds
in the Angola economy cannot yet be known, but the discovery of oil in
1955 was heralded as one of the great events in twentieth-century Portuguese
Africa, and it was then estimated that upwards of a million tons yearly would
be processed. The pilot refinery completed in 1958, however, has a capacity
for only 100,000 tons a year, not sufficient for the province's own use.
The Portuguese government, tempering its reluctance to allow foreign
capital in the overseas provinces, has been obliged to permit a Belgian com-
pany, the Compagnie Financière Belge des Pétroles (Petrofina) to develop its
nascent oil industry. The terms of the contract provide for, among other
things, J5 per cent of the stock in the exploiting company to be in Portuguese
hands and for 5 per cent of the annual liquid profits to go into the Angolan
Reserve Fund.
 NOTES

T h e t w o colonies export small quantities of other minerals, uranium and

manganese f r o m Angola (mineral surveys have located scattered deposits of
copper), and insignificant amounts of beryl, bauxite, and davidite f r o m M o -
cambique. A trickle of gold occasionally comes out of the mines of Manica —
which since i j i o have been Portugal's greatest disappointment in Moçambique
— and about 175,000 tons of coal are mined near T e t e each year.
2. Sugar refineries and cottonseed and vegetable oil extracting plants pro-
duce the other main export items of local industry. Colonial textile production
takes care of a small part of each province's needs, while beer, cigarettes,
cement and asbestos products, bricks and tile are manufactured in sufficient
quantities f o r local demands.
3. One of the major problems Portugal has attempted to solve in the
colonies is how to stimulate A f r i c a n agriculture. T h e present Portuguese
government has set up various programs, controls, and pilot schemes to assist
the A f r i c a n toward better cultivation of his land to check soil erosion. Cereals
and cottons have been designated almost exclusively A f r i c a n crops, and open
compulsion has been used to increase their production. Frequently, however,
the prices of these crops have been fixed at levels generally considered in-
adequate to stimulate production. T h e government's efforts have had the effect
at times of f o r c i n g the A f r i c a n to sacrifice the cultivation of other f o o d crops
he has traditionally g r o w n . It has also been difficult f o r the government to
reconcile the development of A f r i c a n agriculture with the increasing demands
f o r A f r i c a n labor made by European farms and industry and b y the colonies'
o w n public-works programs.
4. In Angola, coffee, n o w principally g r o w n on European fazendas north-
east of Luanda, accounts f o r about 50 per cent of the colony's annual exports,
while sugar, sisal, and palm oil make up another 10 to 12 per cent. In M o -
çambique, African-cultivated cotton is the leading export, but sisal, sugar,
and copra f r o m the vast concessionary coastal plantations — many of them
internationally financed — and tea f r o m the highland estates of G u r u é and
Milange make up the larger portion of the province's agricultural production.
Cashew nuts, citrus fruits, and bananas are gaining in importance as export
crops f r o m Moçambique.
In 19JJ the leading exports f r o m Angola were, in order, coffee, diamonds,
fish products, sisal, cotton, corn, and sugar. T h o s e of Moçambique were cotton,
sugar, tea, copra, cashew nuts, and sisal.
5. Unfortunately, f r o m the Portuguese point of view, much of the wealth
that passes through these ports comes f r o m other countries in A f r i c a : through
Lobi to goes the mineral ore f r o m the Belgian Congo's Katanga province;
through Beira, much of the Rhodesias' ore and tobacco; and through Lourenço
Marques, about j o per cent of South A f r i c a ' s R a n d traffic. B y a series of
international conventions (see Chapter V I f o r a discussion of the M o ç a m b i q u e -
Union of South A f r i c a Convention) the Portuguese ports are guaranteed a
percentage of the traffic to and f r o m the Congo, the Rhodesias, and the Union.
Constant expansion of port facilities has barely kept pace with the increasing
traffic, and both Lourenço Marques and Beira are frequently congested with
cargo and shipping. Lourenço Marques n o w handles about five million tons
of cargo a year and Beira another three million tons.
6. Although Portugal is still the main supplier of colonial imports (chiefly
wine, cotton textiles, and simple agricultural tools), imports f r o m the me-
 INTRODUCTION 347
tropolis are now only 30 to 40 per cent of the yearly total, with goods of
English, German, or American manufacture making up another 40 per cent.
Portugal now takes only from 25 to 30 per cent of the provinces' exports, and
in recent years the United States, purchasing large quantities of Angolan coffee,
has frequently replaced the metropolis as the main market f o r Angolan ex-
ports. Preserved fish from Angola is used in the Congo and French Africa;
Moçambique's sugar and fruit go to the Union of South Africa and her cashew
nuts are shipped to India.
T h e fluctuations of trade in Portuguese A f r i c a and the transitory nature
of such information are such that I have only sought to give the most general
indications. Continuing publications such as the United Kingdom's "Overseas
Economic Surveys" and the United States Department of Commerce's eco-
nomic reports on world trade give a comprehensive picture of trade and
economic patterns in Portuguese Africa. T h e most recent publications in
these series are: Cyril W . Andrews, Portuguese East Africa, "Overseas Eco-
nomic Surveys" (London, 1949); G . Edgar Vaughan, Portuguese East Africa,
"Overseas Economic Surveys" (London, 1952 ); B r y c e J. M. Nairn, Portu-
guese East Africa, "Overseas Economic Surveys" (London, 1955); T . C.
Shannon, Portuguese West Africa, "Overseas Economic Surveys" (London,
1954); "Basic Data on the Economy of Angola," World Trade Information
Service Economic Reports, Part 1, N o . 5 7 - j i ; "Economic Developments in
Mozambique, 1954," World Trade Information Service Economic Reports,
Part ι, N o . 55-47; "Economic Developments in Mozambique, 1955," World
Trade Information Service Economic Reports, Part 1, N o . 56-47; "Economic
Developments in Mozambique, 1956," World Trade Information Service Eco-
nomic Reports, Part 1, N o . 57-48.
Much of the information in these publications comes from the Anuarios
estatísticos published by each province. These statistical annuals and their
supplements are indispensable f o r any close examination of the colonial trade
and economy. C. F. Spence's The Portuguese Colony of Moçambique (Cape
T o w n , 1 9 5 1 ) is very useful for a general economic guide to Portuguese East
Africa.
7. T h e Benguela Railway traverses central Angola f r o m Lobito to the
Belgian Congo frontier at Dilolo. T h e Lourenço Marques-Transvaal system
finished in 1955 a branch line northwestward to the Southern Rhodesian
frontier at Pafuri, thus connecting Lourenço Marques directly with the in-
dustrial and mining areas of the Rhodesias. T h e Beira-Umtali road has recently
been improved to carry larger quantities of freight to and from the Rhodesias.
Both rail lines are government owned. T h e Beira-Umtali line is in turn con-
nected with the British-capitalized Trans-Zambezia which runs north into
Nyasaland; a Portuguese spur line connects the latter road with Tete.
T h e queen of these railroads is undoubtedly the Benguela Railway, one
of the great pioneering roads of the continent. Probably no other feature of
Angolan life in this century has attracted so much attention as the Benguela
Railway as it progressed its thousand-mile w a y up from Lobito to the Bié
plateau and across H u n g r y Country to the Belgian Congo frontier. T h e
Benguela Railway was big, it was imaginative, it was expensive. T h e con-
cession to build the road was obtained by a group headed by Robert Williams,
one of Rhodes's men, who had discovered copper deposits in the Katanga
and conceived the notion of building a railroad f r o m the Congo to Benguela-
34 8 NOTES

Lobito. Williams' Tanganyika Concessions provided most of the original

capital f o r the road. Begun in 1903, the line did not reach the Congo frontier
until 1929. T h e cost of construction exceeded f o r t y million dollars, of which
over 80 per cent came f r o m British sources. A s a colonizing and commercial
force the Benguela Railway has made an invaluable contribution to the devel-
opment of Angola.
8. T h e t w o most important local lines are those which are under con-
struction f r o m Moçambique's port of Nacala to Lake Nyasa (four hundred
miles of track have now been laid) and f r o m the Angolan port of Moçâmedes
toward the Northern Rhodesian frontier ( b y the end of 1958 the four hundred
miles of track had reached V i l a Serpa Pinto). W i t h the completion of these
t w o lines all of the most productive areas of both colonies will be connected
with the coast. In addition, the government-owned Luanda-Malange line in
Angola is being extended eastward to the Lui River and a i6y-mile road is
under contruction into the Portuguese Congo. In Moçambique, several small
systems, none more than one hundred miles in length, run along the coast and
penetrate the near interior f r o m the ports of Lourenço Marques, Chai-Chai,
Inhambane, and Quelimane.

CHAPTER I. THE CONGO EXPERIMENT

ι. Basil Davidson, The African Awakening (London, 1955), p. 49.

2. A court poet of the first third of the sixteenth century gives w h a t must
have been a fairly common conception in Lisbon of the Congo scene. T h e
following is a free translation of a passage from Garcia de Resende's Miscelánea,
edited b y Mendes dos Remédios (Coimbra, 1917), pp. 22, 24. "I shall begin
in Guinea and the Congo where it is well k n o w n that they have the custom
of eating each other up. T h e y eat men like cattle, selected, w e l l cared for. T h e
slave-wives kill them and cook them in pots; they eat them also broiled . . .
T h e y have fearful elephants, snakes of great size, terrifying alligators, fragrant
civet cats, stately trees, rice, bananas, palm trees, cats of many different kinds,
and different sorts of birds, powerful hippopotamuses which walk along the
shore."
3. T h e best sources f o r information on the C o n g o and its people in this
early period are: J. Cuvelier and L. Jadin, L'Ancien Congo d'après les archives
romaines (Brussels, 1954); J. Cuvelier, L'Ancien royaume de Congo (Bruges,
1946); T h e o d o r Simar, Le Congo (Brussels, 1919).
4. Quoted in A l f r e d o de Albuquerque Feiner, Angola (Coimbra, 1933),
pp. 22-23.
5. R . E. G . Armattoe, The Golden Age of West Africa (n.p., 1946), pp.
29-30.
6. Quoted in Ralph Delgado, Historia de Angola (3 vols.; vols. I and II,
Benguela, 1948; vol. III, Lobito, 1953), I, 84.
7. O f the original five missionaries w h o went to the C o n g o in 1490, at least
t w o remained until 1506. T h e r e may have been, in addition to individual priests
arriving f r o m Sâo T o m é , a party sent out b y Manuel in 1J04, but details are
lacking.
8. Probably the most accessible version of the regimentó is in Felner's
Angola, pp. 383-390. Felner's w o r k is in many respects a treasure.
9. "Letter f r o m Afonso, K i n g of the Congo, to K i n g Manuel, O c t o b e r 5,
 T H E CONGO EXPERIMENT 349
ι j 14," in Visconde de Paiva Manso, Historia do Congo (Lisbon, 1855), pp.
13-31. T h i s plea was followed b y another in M a y 1515, w h e n A f o n s o asked
for teachers, priests, and technicians. Manuel .responded b y enjoining the
apostolic vicar of Sâo T o m é to investigate the situation in the Congo. Father
Rui de Aguiar visited the kingdom in 1516. H e wrote admiringly of Afonso's
intense faith and scholarship and recommended that Lisbon send more mis-
sionaries. During his sojourn the Sâo T o m é father established a school which,
according to one enthusiastic report, had more than a thousand students.
10. T h e subsidies given the missionaries were generally cowrie shells or
slaves. If the former, the vicar took them and any other money given the
priests by parishioners and had slaves bought. T h e slaves were sold by the
procurator of the diocese w h o in turn recompensed his brothers in the Congo
with needed supplies. It is at once apparent that the recommendation b y Joâo
III that this traffic be carried out with discretion and honesty was not always
kept.
11. In still another letter of the same year, A f o n s o expressed a desire to
have doctors and pharmacists in residence to treat the Portuguese, w h o were
dying in substantial numbers. H e also placed his usual request f o r teachers,
masons, and carpenters.
12. T h e devastating climate and fevers surely contributed to Portuguese
bad temper. Farinha quotes a contemporary letter (c. 1515): " T h e climate is
so unhealthy for the foreigner that of all those w h o go there f e w fail to
sicken, and of those w h o sicken f e w fail to die, and those w h o survive are
obliged to withstand the intense heat of the torrid zone, suffering hunger,
thirst, and many other miseries, f o r which there is no relief save patience,
of which much is needed, not only to tolerate the discomforts of such a
wretched place, but what is more, to fight the barbarity, ignorance, idolatry,
and vices, which seem scarcely human, but rather those of irrational animals."
Antonio Lourenço Farinha, D. Afonso, Rei do Congo (Lisbon, 1941), p. 19.
13. In the 1530's and 1540's probably 4,000-5,000 slaves a year were shipped
from the Congo.
14. Paiva Manso, Historia do Congo, pp. 93-96.
15. T h e migrations and devastations of the Jaga warriors are described in
G l a d w y n Murray Childs, Umbundu Kinship and Character (London, 1949),
pp. 181-190.
16. Duarte Lopes was a Portuguese merchant and explorer, long resident
in the Congo. H e sailed from Pinda in 1583 with letters for Philip II. A f t e r
a number of accidents and detours he arrived in Spain to deliver his messages
and set out for Rome to get approval for t w o projects he had in mind, a house
for the missionaries in the Congo and a hospital there for Christians. W h i l e
in Rome, Duarte Lopes told his Congo adventures to Filippe Pigafetta w h o
published the account in Italian in 1591 under the title Relatione del reame
di Congo. Editions in Latin, Dutch, and English appeared before 1600, but not
until Rosa Capeans' edition did the w o r k appear in Portuguese. See Duarte
Lopes and Filippe Pigafetta, Relaçâo do Congo e das terras circunvizinhas,
trans, b y Rosa Capeans (2 vols.; Lisbon, 1949-1951 ).
T h e account gives interesting anthropological and geographical details of
the Congo, although the comments on Portuguese-African relations in the
sixteenth century are disappointingly sketchy. Duarte Lopes subsequently
became an important figure in the great controversy which has raged (on
3 5o NOTES

the Portuguese side anyway) for almost one hundred years on the priority
of exploration in central Africa. T h e Portuguese attitude is best summed up
by Leon Cahun in his préfaça to a French translation of the relation (Brussels,
1883). I quote from the Portuguese translation of Cahun in Capeans' edition,
I, 23-26:
"Comparing a map of Africa, made in 1850, before the voyages of Barth,
Livingstone, and Speke, with a map of the end of the sixteenth century, after
the great Portuguese explorations of Diogo Cao, Francisco Gouveia, and
Duarte Lopes, one may see that the interior of this continent was less well
known thirty years ago than it was three hundred years ago . . . In a lecture
given after his return he [Speke] cleared up the great African mystery thus:
'If the ancients had known that Equatorial Africa is the region of the great
rains, they would not have racked their brains seeking the origin of the Nile.'
And we say: 'If Speke had read the description of Africa published in 1598
by the Bry brothers, he would not have boasted of having uncovered the secret
of the origin of the Nile, which Duarte Lopes discovered and the Bry brothers
divulged 280 years before his voyage.' "
Cahun goes on to ridicule Stanley's claims of discovery in the Congo and
also the voyages of Serval, Griffon de Bellay, and de Brazza, suggesting that
they could have saved themselves much trouble by reading Duarte Lopes
first. He finishes up with the much quoted remark: "Unhappily, scholars
who read ancient books almost never travel, and travelers who explore the
land personally never read."
17. Father Barroso, quoted in Farinha, D. Afonso I, p. 84.

CHAPTER II. M O Ç A M B I Q U E AND THE TRADITION

ι. T w o important aspects of Moçambique history I shall omit in the present

chapter, principally for reasons of organization. T h e prazo system is treated
in Chapter IV on Portuguese colonization in Africa; the story of the missions
in Moçambique is included in Chapter V on the missionary effort in Angola
and Moçambique.
2. Whether Joäo received the report is not known. If the Portuguese
court did not receive the letter, it at least did receive much information of
Covilhâ's travels and the sights he witnessed.
3. Originally the supreme command was offered to Vasco's father. O n
his death, it was rejected by the eldest son Paulo, the third choice being Vasco.
4. T h e reasons for the mutual disenchantment are complicated and in
part the result of initial confusions over religious identities. T h e sheik was not
altogether blameless. A t the same time, da Gama's men, before and after the
cannonading, played the role of kidnappers and brigands.
5. This is one of the incredibly heroic stories of the Portuguese in the
East, giving substance to their boasts of valor and the faith they inspired in
the local population.
6. See Eric Axelson, South-east Africa, 1488-1530 (London, 1940), pp.
108-127.
7. T h e captaincy at Sofala and Moçambique included jurisdiction for the
whole coast. Sofala at first was the home of the captain, but after a period of
six-month alternations the permanent residence was established on the island.
8. Throughout this work, unless I make specific reference to the modern
 A N G O L A TO 1858 351
administrative district of Zambézia, I use the term Zambézia in its original
sense, that is, the area of Portuguese penetration on both sides of the river
into the interior.
9. A second important source of itinerant knowledge on African customs
and Portuguese vicissitudes in southeast Africa is found in a number of ac-
counts of shipwrecks taking place off the coast of Natal in the century 1550-
1Ó50. George McCall Theal, Records of South-East Africa (9 vols.; Cape
Town, 1898-1903) has translated the greater part of these into English. T h e
accounts are further discussed in James D u f f y , Shipwreck and Empire (Cam-
bridge, Massachusetts, 1955).
10. Far more important than the Dutch attacks on Sao Sebastiâo was the
establishment in 1652 of a Dutch settlement at Table Bay on the continent's
end. That the Portuguese did not occupy at least a small portion of this
coast may have been a grave mistake.
1 1 . Madeira was fearful that the jealous captain at Moçambique would some-
how obstruct his messengers or else turn the discovery to his own advantage.
He therefore entrusted the samples to two friends, a Dominican priest and
Gaspar Bocarro. T h e priest, above suspicion in his clerical garb, got the glad
tidings to Lisbon after boarding a homeward-bound carrack at Moçambique.
Bocarro, to avoid sailing from the island, journeyed overland from Tete, by
the southern edge of Lake Nyasa, to the mouth of the Rovuma, penetrating
an area of the province not thoroughly explored by another European until
the travels of Livingstone.

CHAPTER III. ANGOLA TO 1858

ι. The island of Luanda and the coastal strip opposite were apparently
not subservient to the Ngola. Through the century this land was under the
control of the Manicongo.
2. For a fuller description of the Ovimbundu, their origins and relation-
ships, see Childs, Umbundu Kinship and Character, especially pp. 167 ff.
3. Feiner, Angola, pp. 166-169.
4. The suggestion had a double purpose: to make use of these celebrated
fighers in the difficult campaigns and to rid Brazil of some of its unwanted
subjects.
5. Baltasar Rebelo de Aragào, "Terras e minas africanas," in Luciano
Cordeiro, Memorias do ultramar (Lisbon, 1881).
6. Ravenstein's edition of the Batteil account is one of the classic studies
in the African field. E. G . Ravenstein, ed., The Strange Adventures of Andrew
Battell of Leigh (Hakulyt Society; London, 1901).
7. Charles R . Boxer, Salvador de Sa and the Struggle for Brasil and
Angola (London, 1952), p. 270.
8. T h e hero has now attained the highest official recognition. In 1955 the
two national secondary schools in Angola were Liceu Salvador Correla de Sá in
Luanda and Liceu Diogo Cäo in Sá da Bandeira (the high school in Lourenço
Marques is the Liceu Salazar).
9. Henrique Galváo and Carlos Selvagem, Impèrio ultramarino portugalés
(4 vols.; Lisbon, 1950-1953), III, 81.
10. J . J . Lopes de Lima, Ensaios sobre a estatistica das possessôes portu-
guesas (4 vols.; Lisbon, 1844-1846), III, 34.
352 NOTES

i l . One of the most serious ills from which Angola now suffered was
populational. A census of the period gives the following figures for the area
of Portuguese occupation: 1,832 whites (150 women), 5,770 mulattoes, 192,270
free Africans, 86,708 slaves. Luanda had a white population of a little over
ι,j00 souls, 13j of them women. In the late 1840's over three hundred emi-
grants from Brazil were transported to Moçâmedes, some of them making
their way to the highlands of Huila. It was a small beginning, but from it was
to proceed an uneven growth in the colony's inhabitants.

CHAPTER IV. COLONIZATION AND S E T T L E M E N T

ι. T h e matter of colonization in the twentieth century will be taken up

in Chapters X and XIII.
2. As a general rule Portuguese colonizing activities in Angola and Mo-
cambique fall into three phases. First came the merchant who traded with the
Africans along the coast and gradually penetrated the interior, following, in
Moçambique, routes established by Arab and native traders. A trader was
seldom able to continue or expand his activities without armed support to
protect the centers of commerce and the routes leading to the coast, and thus
small stockades and even substantial fortresses were constructed and became
isolated outposts of Portuguese civilization. In the footsteps of the merchant
and the soldier, sometimes preceding them, was the missionary, who in some
instances sincerely sought to implant in a primitive consciousness the moral
ideals and cultural attainments of Europe. T h e second phase was the military
occupation of the colonies, a move which was motivated by the necessity to
protect Portuguese Africa against foreign intrusions and to assure its peaceful
occupation by white settlers. T h e perennial wars in Angola against the great
chiefs and lesser sobas were almost exclusively for the purpose of protecting
or fomenting the slave trade, and it was not until the end of the nineteenth
and the beginning of the twentieth centuries that the second phase was com-
pleted in Angola and Moçambique. T h e third phase is basically a contemporary
phenomenon: the creation of a stable white population in towns and on farms
and the emergence of a noticeable European female population. See Gastáo
Sousa Dias, Ocupaçâo de Angola (Lisbon, 1944), p. 7.
3. See Armindo Monteiro, "Inimigos da colonizaçâo," O mundo portu-
gués, I (1934), 194.
4. José A . Gomes dos Santos, As nossas colonias (Lisbon, 1903), pp. 5-6.
5. Mabel V . Jackson, European Powers and South-East Africa (London,
1942), pp. 23-24.
6. Henry Salt, A Voyage to Abyssinia . . . and an Account of the Portu-
guese Settlements on the East Coast of Africa (Philadelphia, 1816), p. 45.
7. Joaquim Mousinho de Albuquerque, Moçambique (2 vols.; Lisbon,
1934), II, 190-191. Although the first volume of this edition is entitled Livro
das campanhas, both volumes are usually referred to by the title Moçambique.
8. F. Torres Texugo, A Letter on the Slave Trade (London, 1839), pp.
38-39·
9. Antonio Norberto de Barbosa de Villas Boas Truäo, Estat'istica da
capitanía dos Ríos de Sena no anno de 1806 (Lisbon, 1889).
10. Manuel Joaquim Mendes Vasconcelos e Cirne, Memòria sobre a provìn-
cia de Moçambique (Lisbon, 1890), pp. 26-27.
 C O L O N I Z A T I O N AND SETTLEMENT 353
1 1 . Ernesto de Vilhena, O regime dos prazos da Zambézia (Lisbon, 1916),
p. 7. For much of my information on the prazo I have relied on this classic
little study and Marqués do Lavradio, Portugal em Africa depois de 185 /
(Lisbon, 1936).
12. Frederick D. Lugard, The Rise of Our East African Empire (2 vols.;
Edinburgh, 1893), I, 29-30.
13. Mousinho de Albuquerque, Moçambique, II, 172-176.
14. Relatório da comissâo encarregada de estudar as reformas a introduzir
no sistema dos prazos de Moçambique (Lisbon, 1889). T h e Committee based
its report on documentary material and a visit to the province.
15. O regime dos prazos, pp. 9 - 1 1 .
16. For the story of the Cruz family fortunes I used mostly two indispen-
sable works: J . J. Teixeira Botelho, Historia militar e política dos portugueses
em Moçambique de 1833 aos nossos dias (2nd ed.; Lisbon, 1936) and Filipe
Gastâo de Almeida de Eça, Historia das guerras no Zambeze (2 vols.; Lisbon,
19J3-1954). Almeida de Eça's work is a remarkable contribution to Moçam-
bique bibliography and offers a quite different interpretation of the Zambezi
wars.
17. T h e best source f o r factual information on the land companies in
Moçambique is in A Manual of Portuguese East Africa (London, 1920), a
work compiled by the Geographical Section of the Naval Intelligence Division
of the British Admiralty.
18. An interesting sidelight on the comparative native policies of the Mo-
çambique and Zambézia Companies is found in a contemporary tract whose
author claims that the African population in the Moçambique Company lands
increased 84 per cent from 1900 to 1904 because of the Africans seeking refuge
there from the territories of the Zambézia Company. His explanation is that
the Moçambique Company accepted payment of the head tax in goods or
money while the Zambézia management demanded payment by labor. Lopo
Vaz de Sampaio e Melo, Polìtica indigena (Oporto, 1910), p. 250.
19. Francisco José de Lacerda e Almeida, Diàrio da viagem de Moçambique
para os Rios de Sena (Lisbon, 1889), pp. 6-7.
20. Lyons McLeod, Travels in Eastern Africa·, with the Narrative of a
Residence in Mozambique (2 vols.; London, i860), I, 154-155.
21. Parker Gillmore, Through Gasa Land and the Scene of the Portuguese
Aggression (London, 1890), p. 4.
22. Montague George Jessett, The Key to South Africa: Delagoa Bay
(London, 1899), pp. 22-23; Amadeu Cunha, Mousinho (5 vols.; Lisbon, 1935-
1936), I V , 70.
23. William Miller Macmillan, Africa Emergent (rev. ed.; London, 1949),
p. 21.
24. Mary H . Kingsley, West African Studies (London, 1899), p. 284.
25. William F. W . Owen, Narrative of Voyages to Explore the Coasts of
Africa, Arabia, and Madagascar (2 vols.; London, 1833), II, 384-386; W . W i n -
wood Reade, Savage Africa (2nd ed.; London, 1864), pp. 301-302.
26. Gastâo Sousa Dias, José de Anchieta (Lisbon, 1939), pp. 46-47.
27. Daniel Crawford, Thinking Back (London, 1914), pp. 4-5.
28. Quoted in J o f r e Amarai Nogueira, A colonizaçâo do Huambo (Nova
Lisboa, 1953), p. 5.
29. Quoted in Sousa Dias, José de Anchieta, p. 18.
354 NOTES

30. Amarai Nogueira, A colonizaçâo do Hiiambo, pp. 26-27.

31. Sousa Dias, Ocupaçâo de Angola, pp. 52-53.
32. For the story of the trek gathered in part from conversations with
Boers w h o participated in it, see: W i l l e m Jaspert, Through Unknown Africa,
tr. b y Agnes Piatt (London, n.d.), pp. 97-98; Lawrence G . Green, Lords of the
Last Frontier (London, 1953), pp. 113-125.
33. Alberto de Almeida Teixeira, Artur de Paiva (Lisbon, 1937). See also
Paiva's correspondence edited b y Gastäo Sousa Dias in Artur de Paiva (2 vols.;
Lisbon, 1938).
34. H e n r y W . Nevinson, A Modern Slavery ( N e w Y o r k , 1906), pp. 67-68.
35. H . H . Johnston, " T h e Portuguese in W e s t A f r i c a , " Journal of the
African Society, XII (1913), 115-116.
T h e Brazilian sociologist Gilberto Freyre has used Huila as a sociological
object-lesson to indicate the superiority of Latin colonizing abilities in tropical
lands over those of N o r d i c races —· a view which ignores three centuries of
Portuguese failures to colonize A f r i c a and which mistakenly regards Huila
as a tropical area, w h e n it has climatically more in common with large
sections of the Union of South Africa, colonized in part by N o r d i c races,
than it does with the Congo or the Luanda areas. In fact the Moçâmedes-
Huila region of Angola is the scene of the only triumph of Portuguese white
colonization in her t w o A f r i c a n provinces until the twentieth century, and
there are those w h o consider this success the workings of fortune. See Gilberto
Freyre, Aventura e rotina (Rio de Janeiro, 1953), p. 399.
36. Macmillan, Africa Emergent, p. 94.

CHAPTER V. THE MISSIONARY EFFORT

ι. These disputes, generally of a personal nature involving local problems,

are evident in a great debate in the Chamber of Deputies in 1879. Bishop Pires
de Lima, in response to Andrade Corvo's charge that the history of Portu-
guese missions was filled with examples of abuse, replied: " Y o u may be right,
sir . . . Missionaries in the past practiced abuses, missionaries in the present
probably do the same, and so will those in the future. T h e fact that they are
missionaries does not make them lose their human nature . . . But w h o has
committed greater folly overseas than the governors and employees w h o have
been appointed there? A n d because part of the personnel chosen has been
bad, very bad and even detestable, does anyone suggest that the colonies be
left without authorities? T o avoid the abuses of appointees, does anyone seri-
ously propose the abandonment of our overseas administration?" Quoted in
Eduardo d'Almeida Saldanha, Colonias, missöes, e Acto Colonial ( V i l a N o v a
de Familacâo, 1930), p. 97.
2. Mousinho de Albuquerque, Moçambique, II, 231.
3. Manuel Alves da Cunha quoted in Gastäo Sousa Dias, Um grande mis-
sionario, Padre Ernesto Le comte (Lisbon, 1946), p. 3.
4. J. P. Oliveira Martins, Portugal em Africa (Lisbon, 1953), p. xxiv.
5. Quoted in J. Alves Correia, A dilataçâo da fé no impèrio portugués
(2 vols.; Lisbon, 1936), II, 40-41.
6. "In the whole history of A f r i c a n missionary activity, excepting possibly
the early days of the Congo, the action of Portuguese missionaries never
 SLAVE TRADE, SLAVERY, AND CONTRACT LABOR 355

equaled either in quality or extension, the w o r k of the Italian C a p u c h i n s . "

Paiva Manso, Historia do Congo, p. 213.
7. O w e n , Narrative of Voyages to Explore the Coasts of Africa, Arabia,
and Madagascar, II, 65-ÓÓ. T h e charges are e c h o e d b y M a b e l Jackson ( E u r o -
pean Powers and South-East Africa, pp. 39-40), basing her remarks on P o r t u -
guese letters of the period.
8. Bartle Frere, Eastern Africa as a Field for Missionary Labor ( L o n d o n ,
1874), p. 66.
9. M a n u e l de B r i t o C a m a c h o , Pretos e brancos (Lisbon, 1926), pp. 147-148.
10. Q u o t e d in A n t o n i o L o u r e n ç o Farinha, A expansäo da fé na Africa e
no Brasil ( L i s b o n , 1942), pp. 191-192.
11. Luis Silveira, Um missionàrio portugués no Congo nos fins do século
XVIII ( L i s b o n , 1943), p. 5.
12. F o r a s u r v e y of the m a n y activities of the Protestant missions in A n g o l a
and M o ç a m b i q u e u p to about 1930, t w o w o r k s are invaluable. T h e y are John
T . T u c k e r , Angola, Land of the Blacksmith Prince ( L o n d o n , 1933), and
E d u a r d o M o r e i r a , Portuguese East Africa ( L o n d o n , 1936).
13. James Johnston, Reality Versus Romance in South Central Africa
( L o n d o n , 1893), pp. 55-58.
14. I w a s told b y a P o r t u g u e s e citizen in A n g o l a that in his opinion the
Protestants had done m o r e f o r A n g o l a in fifty years than his c h u r c h had done
in three hundred. A n y comparison of this nature is essentially unfair, since
it is p a r t l y based o n social service contributions w h i c h in previous centuries
w e r e s e c o n d a r y in C a t h o l i c missionary concepts.
15. T h e dispute arose f r o m a s m u g g l i n g raid o n the island b y Portuguese
authorities. T h e c r e w of a mission boat w e r e taken captive, and in the ensuing
scuffle the P o r t u g u e s e c o r p o r a l fatally shot an E n g l i s h missionary.
16. M o u s i n h o de A l b u q u e r q u e , Moçambique, II, 235.
17. Umbundu Kinship and Character, pp. 222-223.

CHAPTER VI. THE SLAVE TRADE, S L A V E R Y , AND CONTRACT LABOR

ι. In r e c e n t years these attacks h a v e been m e t w i t h impatient scorn b y P o r -

tuguese officials, w h o p o i n t o u t that their c o u n t r y has been in A f r i c a longer
than any other E u r o p e a n people, during w h i c h time they have learned h o w
t o live and w o r k w i t h the A f r i c a n population, a statement — f r o m their point
of v i e w — u n d o u b t e d l y true. In a L o u r e n ç o M a r q u e s i n t e r v i e w w i t h a
representative of F r a n c e Presse in A u g u s t 1956, Portugal's C r a v e i r o L o p e s
said that P o r t u g a l made o n l y one request, that she be a l l o w e d to g e t on w i t h
her w o r k in A f r i c a w i t h o u t the interference of people w h o k n o w nothing
about A f r i c a . Q u o t e d in O século de Lisboa, A u g u s t 8, 1956, ρ. ι.
2. In the early 1900's the British consul at Beira w r o t e enthusiastically.

Whilst in our own colonies we have educated the native, and petted him, and
done everything we could think of to impair his value as a worker by endeavoring
to fit him for positions for which he is not by nature intended, the Portuguese, on
the other hand, throughout the centuries of their occupation of East Africa, have
never viewed him in any but a proper and practical light; for them he is first and last
the "mäo d'obra" (laboring hand), and any proposition tending to lessen his value in
the capacity would never, and will never, be entertained by them for a single moment.
I have always observed, over a considerable number of years, that in whatever direction
356 NOTES

the Portuguese have achieved but qualified success, they have always known how
to deal with the negro, and want of respect on the part of the latter is scarcely ever
seen. I do not mean that this respect is extorted by cruelty; I do not believe the Por-
tuguese master is in any sense a cruel person — indeed, I must confess to having seen
much more ill-treatment of natives among the foreigners of the Mozambique province
— but wherever one may come in contact with him, whether it be Mozambique in the
north, the Zambezi in the center, or Beira in the south, one will never see the insolent
demeanour of the black man toward the white which is such a constant and lamentable
spectacle of everyday occurrence in our Colonies and Protectorates in almost all
parts of Africa. R. C. F. Maugham, Portuguese East Africa (London, 1906), pp. 302-
303.

3. The native policies of the present Portuguese government will be dis-

cussed more fully in Chapter XII.
4. See Carter G . Woodson, The African Background Outlined (Wash-
ington, 1936), pp. 221-222, and W . E. Burghardt DuBois, The World and
Africa (New York, 1947), p. 47.
5. Humorously exaggerated lines like these from a contemporary poem
(1516) are not to be taken at face value.

W e see so many captives

Come into the realm,
And so many Portuguese leave
That it soon may be that they,
In my opinion, will outnumber us.

Garcia de Resende, Miscelánea, p. 37·

6. Antonio Brásio, Os pretos em Portugal (Lisbon, 1944).
7. Gilberto Freyre, "Slavery, Monarchy, and Modern Brazil," Foreign
Affairs, X X X I I I (1955), 624-633.
8. Charles R. Boxer, Salvador de Sá, p. 255.
9. The most concise appraisal of West African history in this period is
found in John William Blake's introductory essay to Europeans in West
Africa, 1450-1560 (Hakluyt Society; 2 vols.; London, 1941-1942), I, 3-63.
Edmundo Correla Lopes, A escravatura (Lisbon, 1944), is very useful in spite
of a haphazard arrangement of material. Most of my slaving statistics come
from these two sources. See also Donald Pierson, Negroes in Brazil (Chicago,
1942), pp. 32-34. Neither the statistics nor the authorities cited by Pierson are
completely convincing.
10. Correia Lopes, A escravatura, p. 87.
1 1 . Ibid, p. 175.
12. Boxer, Salvador de Sá, pp. 236-239.
13. Maria Teresa Amado Neves, "D. Francisco Inocencio de Sousa Cou-
tinho," Os portugueses em Africa (3 vols.; Lisbon, 1938), I, 126-133.
14. William Law Mathieson, Great Britain and the Slave Trade (London,
1929), pp. 20-21.
15. Thomas Fowell Buxton, The African Slave Trade (2nd ed.; London,
1839), p. vi.
16. Lawrence F. Hill, "The Abolition of the African Slave Trade to
Brazil," Hispanic-American Historical Review, X I ( 1 9 3 1 ) , 169-197.
17. Lugard, The Rise of Our East African Empire, I, 15-16.
 S L A V E TRADE, S L A V E R Y , A N D C O N T R A C T LABOR 357

18. Lacerda, Diàrio da viagem, pp. 23-24.

19. T o r r e s T e x u g o , A Letter on the Slave Trade, pp. 14-15.
20. See O w e n , Narrative of Voyages, I, 287. " T h e introduction of the slave
trade stopped the pursuits of industry, and changed those places where peace
and agriculture had formerly reigned into the seat of war and bloodshed.
Contending tribes are now constantly striving to obtain b y mutual conflict
prisoners and slaves for sale to the Portuguese, w h o excite these wars and
fatten on the blood and wretchedness they produce. T h e slave trade has been
a blight on its prosperity."
21. MacLeod, Travels in Eastern Africa, II, 32.
22. H e n r y R o w l e y , The Story of the Universities' Mission to Central
Africa (London, i860), pp. 64-65.
23. Frederick Courtney Selous, Travel and Adventure in South-East Africa
(London, 1893), pp. 57-58; Daniel J. Rankin, The Zambesi Basin and Nyas-
saland (Edinburgh, 1893), pp. 106-107.
24. V e r n e y Lovett Cameron, Across Africa (2 vols.; N e w Y o r k , 1877).
"Coimbra [a mulatto slave trader and son of the captain-major of Bié] ar-
rived with a gang of fifty-two w o m e n tied together in lots of seventeen or
eighteen. Some had children in their arms, others were far advanced in preg-
nancy, and all were laden with huge bundles of grass-cloth and other plunder.
These poor, weary, and footsore creatures were covered with weals and
scars, showing h o w unmercifully cruel had been the treatment received at the
hands of the savage w h o called himself their owner. T o obtain these fifty-two
women at least ten villages had been destroyed, each having a population of
f r o m one to t w o hundred, or about 1,500 in all. Some may, perchance, have
escaped to neighboring villages, but the greater portion were undoubtedly
burnt w h e n their villages were surprised, and shot whilst attempting to save
their wives and families, or doomed to die of starvation in the jungle . . ."
(II, 136). So troubling were the charges made b y Cameron that they were de-
bated in the Lisbon parliament.
O n the other hand, both L o r d M a y o ( D . R. W . Bourke) and Sir H a r r y
Johnston, w h o visited Angola extensively in 1882, made only passing references
to slavery. O f the Portuguese occupation of Angola, Johnston wrote for The
Graphic: "But . . . w e must not forget to give the Portuguese their due. O f
all the European powers that rule in tropical A f r i c a none have pushed their
influence so far into the interior as Portugal. A n d the Portuguese rule more
b y influence over the natives than b y actual force. T h e garrisons at Dondo,
Malange and other places in the interior range perhaps f r o m fifty to t w o hun-
dred men, and these are nearly entirely native soldiers. T h e country is so
thickly populated that the inhabitants could in a moment sweep away the
Portuguese if they disliked their rule." Quoted in Roland Oliver, Sir Harry
Johnston and the Scramble for Africa (London, 1957), p. 30.
25. "If the goal was the dignification of the black man, the abolition of
slavery created around him conditions of non-protection which harmed him
more than slavery had previously." Francisco Bahia dos Santos, Política ultra-
marina de Portugal (Lisbon, 1955), p. 128.
26. Quoted b y Jaime Batalha Reis, "Portugal e a colonizaçâo da A f r i c a
na sessäo do V I Congresso Internacional de Geografia em Londres," Estudos
geográficos e históricos (Lisbon, 1941), p. 208.
27. T h e number of slaves officially registered with the colonial authorities
358 NOTES
in 1854 was ridiculously low, and probably represented a Luanda-Benguela
figure. T h e slave owner was doing himself no favor by complying with the
required registration law of 1854, and most residents certainly submitted neg-
ligible and inaccurate figures.
28. Antonio Francisco da Silva Porto, Via gens e apontamentos de um por-
tuense em Africa, ed. by José de Miranda and Antonio Brochado (Lisbon,
1942). Silva Porto was writing in 1869; in 1890 he committed suicide under
extraordinary circumstances predicted in the quotation given. See Chapter

29. Reade, Savage Africa, p. 317.

30. Antonio Julio Belo de Almeida, Operaçôes militares na regiáo da Sanga,
no concelho de Novo Redondo (Lisbon, 1942), pp. 7-9.
31. From a section of the "Relatório da Comissâo" published in Antologia
colonial portuguesa (Lisbon, 1946), p. 25 et seq.
32. For the substance of the native labor legislation I have relied on J. M.
da Silva Cunha, O trabalho indigena (2nd ed.; Lisbon, 1955). See also G . St.
John Browne, The African Laborer (London, 1933), 194-198.
33. T h e Portuguese themselves have not been reticent in pointing up
abuses in Angola. " T h e black knows that the whites, those who are not Portu-
guese, at least, faithfully fulfill their contracts, pay them generously for their
services. The Portuguese colonist considers the native as a beast of burden, an
agricultural machine with no rights or privileges; he deceives him in his con-
tracts, defrauds him in the products of his work, prompts him with exaggerated
punishments condemned by law. Anyone who visits the highlands of Angola
knows that it is not uncommon to find on the roads discarded slave collars or
the hippo whip with which the back of the Negro is still beaten." Gomes dos
Santos, As nossas colonias, p. 147.
T h e most authoritative spokesman is Norton de Matos, governor general
and later high commissioner in the second and third decades of the century.
Defending his own policies in Angola, he says that before his arrival native
labor, with rare exceptions, could not be called free, but that by the end of
his term in 191y the remains of ancient slavery and the new disguised forms
had disappeared. When he returned in 1919, Norton de Matos found that
corruption had broken out again and that only through his decrees of 1921 did
Angola again pass from a regime of forced labor to free contracted labor.
Norton de Matos believed that the surest way to win the African was to pay
him well, clothe and feed him, and introduce him to a way of life superior to
his own. As high commissioner he set about immediately, he says, to correct
the exploitation of the native's contract and forbid absolutely the use of
forced laborers by private concerns. José Mendes Ribeiro Norton de Matos,
A provincia de Angola (Oporto, 1926), pp. 126 ff.
That Norton de Matos was more enthusiastic than accurate about the ef-
fect of his decrees and the permanent influence they had on Angolan Portu-
guese may be seen in a speech given by Vasco Dias de Oliveira at a meeting
of the Angola Agricultural Association, wherein the speaker referred to the
Africans as a backward race who should be forced to work and not have the
same liberties as civilized people. T h e speaker also pumped for government
conscription of labor for private farms. Vasco Dias de Oliveira, Mâo-de-obra
indígena (Luanda, 1924).
 S L A V E TRADE, S L A V E R Y , AND C O N T R A C T LABOR 359

34. "Correspondence with British Commissioners," Accounts and Papers

i86¡, X X V I I , 91-92; 1868-1869, XXIII, 22-24; ο, X X I , 92-93.
35. I have been unable to obtain Biker's article, " A ilha de Sâo Tomé,"
which was published in the Revista portuguesa colonial e marítima in 1903. I
rely on a summary and quotations from Gomes dos Santos, As nossas colonias,
pp. 1 1 0 - 1 1 7 . T h e quotations I use are Biker's.
36. Henry W . Nevinson, More Changes, More Chances (London, 1925),
pp. 38-39.
37. Nevinson, A Modern Slavery, pp. 27, 1 1 8 - 1 1 9 .
38. Nevinson, More Changes, More Chances, pp. 74-75.
39· ¡bid., pp 77-79.
40. Correspondence Exchanged between Mr. William A. Cad bur y and a
Committee of Pla?tters of the Islands of Sâo Tomé and Prìncipe in December,
IÇO-J, and January, 1908 (Lisbon, 1908), p. 9.
41. Ibid., pp. 13-20.
42. William Cadbury, Labour in Portuguese West Africa (2nd ed.; Lon-
don, 1910), pp. 76-77.
43. John H . Harris, Portuguese Slavery: Britain's Dilemma (London, 1913),
p. 9.
44. British Documents 993 ( L I X ) , 938 ( L X ) , 941 ( X L V ) , and 947 (XXIII).
4J. Lord Cromer, "Portuguese Contract Labor," The Spectator, September
18, 1915, pp. 359-360; Journal of the African Society, X V I ( 1 9 1 7 ) , 343.
46. Quoted in E. D. Morel, The Black Man's Burden (New York, 1920), pp.
156-157. Colonel Statham, en route to Angola in 1920, records a talk with the
British vice-consul who "convinced me that, in the economic as well as hu-
manitarian aspects of cocoa planting, the Portuguese have little or nothing to
learn from any other colonial power. . . T h e native laborers are well fed,
housed, and hospitalized and appear well treated and content." Statham goes
on to say that the whole scandal may not have been justified and that the Eng-
lish press may have supported a campaign started by England's enemies! J . C. B.
Statham, Through Angola, a Coming Colony (Edinburgh, 1922), pp. 25-28.
47. Mary H. Kingsley, Travels in West Africa (London, 1897), p. 49.
48. Notable Portuguese answers to English charges are: August Ribeiro,
O cacau de Sâo Tomé — Resposta ao relatório da missäo Cadbury (Lisbon,
1910); Antonio A. Correa de Aguiar, O trabalho indigena nas ilhas de Sâo Tomé
e Príncipe (Sâo Tomé, 1919); Francisco Monteiro, A mâo-de-obra em Sâo
Tomé e Príncipe (Lisbon, 1910); Lopo Vaz de Sampaio e Melo, Política indí-
gena (Oporto, 1910), pp. 303-335.
49. That part of Portuguese native policy not immediately associated with
the labor problem will be taken up in Chapter X .
50. Edward Alsworth Ross, Report on Employment of Native Labor in
Portuguese Africa ( N e w York, 1925), p. 12.
51. Report on Employment, pp. 58-59.
52. F. M. de Oliveira Santos, Resposta às acusaçôes que o americano Pro-
fessor Edward Alsworth Ross fez à administraçào dos portugueses num rela-
tório . . . (Luanda, 1927), pp. 125-127. Four years after Ross's visit, T . A .
Barns remarked that "labor conditions in Portuguese West Africa are not
quite as bad as they have been made out." T . A . Barns, "Through Portuguese
West Africa," Journal of the African Society, X X V I I I (1929), 227.
 NOTES

53. T h o m a z de Almeida Garrett, Um govèrno em Africa (Lisbon, 1907),

pp. 218-219.
54. Defending his patriotism, the high commissioner responded that he
had not furnished the workers, but had only given permission f o r recruitment.
H e stated he thought 16,000-18,000 workers a year was a small contribution
f o r the development of the lower Zambezi. Brito Camacho, Pre tos e br ancos,
pp. 48-49.
55. Sheila T . V a n der Horst, Native Labour in South Africa (London,
1942), p. 135.
56. T h e best available sources for the subject are: V a n der Horst, Native
Labour, passim; The Colonial Problem (London, 1937), pp. 395-396; The Of-
ficial Yearbook of the Union of South Africa-, C. F. Spence, The Portuguese
Colony of Moçambique, an Economic Survey (Cape T o w n , 1951), pp. 85-87;
Manual of Portuguese East Africa (London, 1920), pp. 171-182.
57. W . C . A . Shepherd, "Recruiting in Portuguese East A f r i c a of Natives
for the Mines," Journal of the African Society, X X X I I I (1934), 253-360.
58. Antonio Augusto Mendes Correla, Raças do impèrio (Oporto, 1943),
pp. 546-548. T h e r e is some truth in Mendes Correia's assertions of denation-
alization in parts of Moçambique as a result of recruiting there. Carol Birkby
says that Gazaland might as well be called " W i n e l a n d " (after W N L A ) from
the number of recruits going and coming from the mines in this district. Lim-
popo Journey (London, 1939), p. 261.

CHAPTER VII. LIVINGSTONE AND THE PORTUGUESE

1. Boletim oficial do governo-geral da provincia de Angola, June 28, 1854,

pp. 2-3.
2. Missionary Travels and Researches in South Africa (London, 1857), p.
227.
3. Ibid., p. 217. His cryptic account here is fuller in the original journal. See
Frank Debenham, The Way to llala (London, 1955), p. 86. Silva Porto's ver-
sion appears in Viagens e apontamentos, pp. 124-129.
4. Missionary Travels, p. 362.
5. Ibid., p. 435.
6. Quoted in Reginald Coupland, Kirk on the Zambezi ( O x f o r d , 1928), pp.
68-69. G e o r g e Seaver in his recent biography of Livingstone cites many in-
stances of Livingstone's gratitude to the Portuguese, but he also quotes a curi-
ous paragraph from one of the explorer's letters. "In a postscript of a letter to
Tidman, marked private, he says shrewdly: Ί may remark that the Portuguese
in A f r i c a have a good character for polite hospitality, but I came amongst
them in a peculiar manner. I came out f r o m behind them. It would, I suspect,
be a different story if a missionary had come to Loanda and wished to go in
from thence.' " G e o r g e Seaver, David Livingstone: His Life and Letters ( N e w
Y o r k , 1957), p. 224.
7. Missionary Travels, pp. 369-370.
8. Ibid., pp. 371-372.
9. Ibid., pp. 395-396.
10. Ibid^, pp. 394-395. H e gives the city's population as 12,000 (830 whites,
of w h o m 16Ò are female), and estimates that the whole colony can boast of
only about 1,000 Europeans.
 L I V I N G S T O N E AND THE PORTUGUESE 361
11. Ibid., p. 40J.
12. Ibid., p. 437.
13. Ibid., p. 653. Elsewhere: "The Portuguese here are as kind as they were
in Angola, and that is saying a good deal. Somehow or the other, I had imbibed
a sort of prejudice against them. But actual intercourse has fully convinced me
that we are liable to form a very wrong opinion of the majority from the con-
tumacious acts of a few." David Chamberlain, ed., Some Letters from Living-
stone, 1840-18-72 ( L o n d o n , 1940), p. 256.
For their part, the Portuguese have acknowledged Livingstone's prowess as
an explorer. Serpa Pinto, who crossed the continent some years later, wrote
that, "Livingstone is the only man who has known how to explore the sertöes
of Africa and his peaceful disposition is well known." Quoted in Alves de
Azevedo, "Serpa Pinto, explorador invencível," in Os portugueses em Africa,
I, 385.
14. Missionary Travels, pp. 642, 660. Dr. Gladwyn Childs informs me that
he has seen in the 1857 Boletim of the Government General of Angola a letter
written by Livingstone from Tete to the governor general of Angola. Living-
stone offered his services to the Portuguese government to assist in the estab-
lishing of a chain of governmental and commercial posts across Africa from
Angola to Moçambique. Their purpose would be to drive out the slave trade
and establish legitimate trade in the interior. I have been unable to obtain a
copy of this communication.
ι j . Livingstone's ideas about the aims of the expedition went beyond those
of simple exploration. In a letter written a few days before his departure from
England, he stated that his objects "have something more in them than meets
the eye. They are not merely exploratory, for I go with the intention of bene-
fiting both the African and my own countrymen. . . All this machinery has
for its ostensible object the developing of African trade and the promotion of
civilisation, but what I tell to none but such as you, in whom I have confidence,
is this. I hope it may result in an English colony in the healthy high lands
of Central Africa." Debenham, The Way to llala, p. 130.
16. Coupland, Kirk on the Zambezi, p. 89.
17. Debenham, The Way to llala, p. 134.
18. Charles and David Livingstone, Narrative of an Expedition to the Zam-
bezi and its Tributaries ( N e w Y o r k , 1866), pp. 163-164.
19. Ibid., p. vii.
20. Ibid., p. χ.
21. Ibid., pp. 427-428.
22. Ibid., p. 259.
23. Ibid., pp. 485-486.
24. ibid., pp. 636-637.
25. For typical communications from Lisbon to the Moçambique gov-
ernors, see Jackson, European Powers and South-East Africa, pp. 251-267.
26. Francisco José de Lacerda, Exame das viagens do Doutor Livingstone
(Lisbon, 1867), p. 25.
27. I have failed to do justice to Lacerda's close and caustic arguments.
See Exame das viagens, pp. 288-293.
28. The notion of a prior Portuguese travessia still has as many defenders
as does Atlantis or the Baconian authorship of Shakespearian dramas.
29. See Charles R. Boxer, "Sisnado Dias Bayâo: Conquistador da 'Mâe de
3Ó2 NOTES
ouro,' " in Os portugueses em Africa, I, 99-115. See also Visconde de Soveral,
"Apontamentos sobre o dominio de Portugal no continente africano," Boletim
da Sociedade de Geografia e Historia de Lisboa, X (1891), 145-156.
30. F. V. Bruce Miller, "A Few Historical Notes on Feira and Zumbo,"
Journal of the African Society, IX (1910), 416-423; E. H . L. Pool, "An Early
Portuguese Settlement in Northern Rhodesia," Journal of the African Society,
XXX (1931 ), 164-168.
31. Richard F. Burton, The Lands of Cazembe (London, 1873); see also
Francisco José de Lacerda e Almeida, Diàrio da Viagem, and Sidney R. Welch,
Portuguese and Dutch in South Africa, 1640-1806 (Cape Town, 1951), pp.
620-633.
32. T h e date of their departure is not clear. Quirino da Fonseca gives 1801,
Gastäo de Sousa Dias, 1804. See Quirino da Fonseca, "Joäo Baptista, pioneiro
da dupla travessia de Africa em principios do século XIX," Boletim da Sociedade
de Geografia e Historia de Lisboa, LIII (1935), pp. 141-157, and Gastäo de
Sousa Dias, " O reino de Angola e as suas conquistas . . . ," Historia da ex-
pansâo portuguesa no mundo, edited by Antonio BaiSo and others (3 vols.,
Lisbon, 1937-1940), III, 212.
33. T h e information on the strange meeting of these two men who repre-
sented in so many ways prevailing national attitudes in England and Portuguese
Africa is slight. The material on Silva Porto is completely inadequate for a
man of his importance. T h e only substantial works are several edited collec-
tions of his writings and a biography by Gastäo de Sousa Dias, published in
Lisbon in 1948.
34. Quoted in Ruy Miguel da Cruz, "Silva Porto," Esmeraldo, no. 10, 1956,
PP· 49-54·
35. See Joaquim Rodrigues Graça, "Expediçâo ao Muatayanvua," Boletim da
Sociedade de Geografia e Historia de Lisboa, IX (1890), 365-468.
36. Joäo de Andrade Corvo, Estudos sobre as provincias ultramarinas (2
vols.; Lisbon, 1883), I, 211-212.
37. Quoted in José de Almada, A política colonial de Joäo de Andrade
Corvo (Lisbon, 1944), p. 31.
38. Perhaps the outstanding work published by the society was Cordeiro's
collection of sixteenth- and early seventeenth-century accounts of commerce
and conquest in Angola, Memorias do ultramar (Lisbon, 1881). In the Boletim
published by the society appeared many valuable articles of contemporary and
past events in Africa.
39. Stanley spent more than a month with Capelo, Ivens, and Serpa Pinto
in Luanda waiting for a ship to take him from Africa. Several amusing anecdotes
of this association appear in Alexandre Alberto da Rocha de Serpa Pinto,
Como eu atravessei Africa (2 vols.; London, 1881), I, 23-27.

CHAPTER VIII. INTERNATIONAL DISPUTES

ι. Quoted in Mabel Jackson, European Powers and South-East Africa, p.

53. A survey of French interest in Moçambique is contained on pp. 42-63.
2. Ibid., pp. 137-138. For detailed analysis of the turbulent decade, see pp.
122-153. A study of the Delagoa Bay negotiations, 1823-1875, is in Raymond
W . Bixler, "Anglo-Portuguese Rivalry for Delagoa Bay," The Journal of Mod-
ern History, V I (1934), 425-440.
 INTERNATIONAL DISPUTES 363
3. Almada, A política colonial de Joäo de Andrade Corvo, p. 22.
4. For much of my information here and on the Conference of Berlin I
have used S. E. Crowe, The Berlin West African Conference (London, 1942).
5. J. Holland Rose, The Development of the European Nations (5th ed.;
London, 1915), pp. 54^-547·
6. J. Scott Keltie, The Partition of Africa (2nd ed.; London, 1895), pp.
147-148.
7. Ibid., pp. 241-242. See also Charles Lucas, The Partition and Colonization
of Africa (Oxford, 1922), pp. 92-93; Luis Vieira de Castro, "A Conferência de
Berlim e seus efeitos imediatos," in Historia da expansáo portuguesa no mundo,
III, 339; Charles E. Nowell, "Portugal and the Partition of Africa," The Journal
of Modem History, X I X (1947), 13.
8. Pursuing her new-found policy of positive diplomacy, Portugal de-
manded in 1886-87 that the Sultan of Zanzibar remove his customhouse and
posts from the whole of Tungue (Tungi) Bay, which lay some twenty miles
south of the Rovuma's mouth and had long been, by mutual understanding, the
frontier between the dominions of Zanzibar and Moçambique. The Sultan,
who had recently been bullied by more important European countries, refused
to cede his half of the bay to the pretensions of Portugal. Portuguese gun-
boats thereupon began to patrol the coast and Consul Serpa Pinto lowered the
flag on the Portuguese consulate, preparatory to departure. The Portuguese
government issued an ultimatum and occupied Tungue and the shores of the
bay. England and Germany remonstrated, but the Portuguese refused arbi-
tration and no solution was reached. For the English, who could read of the
action in a series of articles in the Times by no less a journalist than Henry
Stanley, the incident was but another indication of Portuguese irresponsibility
in Africa.
9. A remark much quoted in Africa and Europe summed up a popular
attitude: "Let the Portuguese have only the territory where the whites can't
live." The Natal Mercury pumped for German occupation of Moçambique.
"It is better to have one small German settlement near us than any number
of miserable and wretched Portuguese colonies which never have and never
can benefit either settlers or aborigines, but which are simply a curse where-
ever they have taken root on African soil. . . T o speak of Portuguese colo-
nies in East Africa is to speak of a mere fiction. . . The very fact that for
three hundred years the flag of Portugal has waved along the East Coast in-
volves the condemnation of Portuguese rule." Quoted in Joaquim Carlos Paiva
de Andrade, Relatório de urna viagem às terras dos landins (Lisbon, 1885), pp.
29-30.
10. Leonard Woolf, Empire and Commerce in Africa (London, 1920), p.
174·
11. Eduardo Moreira, "Portuguese Colonial Policy," Africa, XVII (1947),
186-188.
12. The meeting between the Englishman and the Portuguese was in the
best Kipling tradition. Johnston received champagne and delicacies and a letter
of safe conduct through Portuguese territory. Serpa Pinto's Lt. Coutinho told
Johnston that "we are both doing our best for our respective countries, and
however much our political views may differ, that is no reason why one white
man should quarrel with another in Central Africa." Johnston notes that "this
was indeed the keynote of Portuguese demeanour towards me, then and thence-
364 NOTES
forth, and I feel it only just to place these facts on record, for I have been often
vexed at the unjust aspersions which have been cast upon the Portuguese in
the British Press." H . H . Johnston, British Central Africa ( N e w York, 1897),
pp. 80-89. See also Oliver, Sir Harry Johnston and the Scramble for Africa,
pp. 158-159. Johnston was one of the f e w Englishmen of his day who liked
and, in some cases, admired the Portuguese in Africa, and in later life he seems
to have had some misgivings about the validity of England's pretensions in
1889-1890.
13. J . P. Oliveira Martins, Portugal em Africa, pp. xiv-xv.
14. F. A . Oliveira Martins, ed., O "Ultimatum" visto por Antonio Enes
(Lisbon, 1946).
15. In all of her troubles with other nations Portugal has had no more
loyal defender than Mary Kingsley. "It must be noted, for one thing, that
Portugal was the first European nation to tackle Africa in what is now by many
people considered the legitimate way, namely by direct governmental control.
Other nations left West Africa in the hands of companies of merchant ad-
venturers and private individuals f o r centuries. Nevertheless, Portugal is
nowadays unpopular among the other nations engaged in exploiting Africa. I
shrink from embroiling myself in controversy, but I am bound to say I think
she has become unpopular on account of prejudice, coupled with that strange
moral phenomenon that makes men desirous of persuading themselves that a
person they have treated badly deserves that treatment.
" T h e more powerful European nations have dealt scandalously, from a
moral standpoint, with Portugal in Africa. . ." Mary Kingsley, West African
Studies (London, 1899), p. 282.
16. T h e best presentation of the shifting frontiers and demands is found in
A Manual of Portuguese East Africa, pp. 492-503.
17. T h e clash did take place, at Macequece, in May, too late to influence
the final negotiations. T h e Portuguese volunteers were dispersed with con-
siderable losses. Joâo de Azevedo Coutinho, O combate de Macequece (Lisbon,
'935)·
18. A dispassionate analysis of the foregoing conflict is hard to find. T h e
bibliography is extensive, but generally intemperate. Valuable material, how-
ever, may be found in Amadeu Cunha, " O 'Ultimatum,' suas repercussóes até
ao tratado de 1891," in Historia da expansäo portuguesa no mundo, III, 345—
358; Luis Vieira de Castro, D. Carlos I (3rd ed.; Lisbon, 1943); José Justino
Teixeira Botelho, Historia militar e política dos portugueses e?n Moçambique,
II, 319-399; Manual of Portuguese East Africa, pp. 479-503. A n excellent sur-
vey, containing much new information, is found in Oliver's Sir Harry John-
ston and the Scramble for Africa, pp. 124-196.
19. Jessett, The Key to South Africa: Delagoa Bay, p. 86. This is a mon-
umentally fatuous, uninformed, and imperialistic work, but quite representative
of an attitude prevailing in South African and English opinion.
As usual, Mary Kingsley had kind words for the Portuguese. " T h e thing
she is taxed with nowadays is that she does not develop her possessions. Devel-
oping African possessions is the fashion, so naturally Portugal, who persists in
going about in crinoline and poke bonnet style, gets jeered at. This is right in
a way, so long as we don't call it the high moral view and add to it libel."
West African Studies, p. 283.
20. The area was returned to Portugal after the First World War.
 A NEW ERA 365

21. See " C o n f l i c t over Delagoa B a y and the Future of the Portuguese
Empire in the Nineties," A p p e n d i x II of The Colonial Problem, pp. 383-385;
A r t h u r Ribeiro Lopes, A convençao secreta entre a Alemanha e a Inglaterra
sobre a partilha das colonias portuguesas (Lisbon, 1933); Louis A . C . Raphael,
The Cape-to-Cairo Dream ( N e w Y o r k , 1936), pp. 156-160, 207-214.
22. Prince L i c h n o w s k y , My Mission to London, 1912-1914 ( L o n d o n , 1918),
p. 16.
23. A r t h u r Berriedale Keith, The Belgian Congo and the Berlin Act ( O x -
ford, 1919), p. 300. K e i t h goes on: " A system such as that in force in Angola,
under w h i c h land could not be acquired b y other than Portuguese subjects,
and exports w h i c h paid 3 per cent shipped in Portuguese bottoms were mulcted
in 15 per cent if carried in foreign vessels . . . is not seriously to be defended
. . . especially w h e n the result of the policy is stagnation pure and simple.
Portugal must also r e f o r m in essential aspects her treatment of the natives w h o
g o to labour in San T h o m e . . ."

CHAPTER IX. A NEW ERA

ι. Joäo Alexandre Lopes Galvâo, " A ocupaçâo econòmica das colonias por-
tuguesas," in Os portugueses em Africa, III, 128.
2. Oliveira Martins, Portugal em Africa, p. 32.
3. Eduardo Lupi, ed., Aires de Ornelas (3 vols.·, Lisbon, 1936), I, 72.
4. Q u o t e d in A m a d e u Cunha, Mousinho, I, 29.
5. Q u o t e d in Lupi, Aires de Ornelas, I, 72.
6. Brito Camacho, Pretos e broncos, p. 12.
7. Q u o t e d in L o u r e n ç o Cayolla, Sá da Bandeira (Lisbon, 1935), p. 27.
8. A n t o n i o Enes, Moçambique (3rd ed.; Lisbon, 1946), p. 58.
9. Ibid., p. 63.
10. Ibid., p. 251.
11. Ibid., p. 96.
12. Ibid., pp. 401-420.
13. Ibid., pp. 229-236.
14. Ibid., p. 75.
15. A n t o n i o Enes and others, " O trabalho dos indígenas e o crédito agrícola,"
Antologia colonial portuguesa, pp. 28-29. Enes' strong attitude on forced labor
was influential in revisions of the N a t i v e Labor C o d e of 1899.
16. Cunha, Mousinho, I, 13.
17. Mousinho believed that only a military coup d'état could save Portugal
f r o m third-rate governments. T h i s military regime would have a nonpolitical
leader. H e was unable to convince Carlos, however, that a government could
exist without political parties.
18. Mousinho de Albuquerque, Moçambique, II, 17-18. A l t h o u g h he holds
the Liberals responsible f o r the final collapse of Moçambique, Mousinho admits
that it was the end of a process w h i c h began in the middle of the seventeenth
century, caused b y the incapacity and indiscipline of public officials, lack of
military strength, and the rise of the mulattoes and Canarins.
19. Cunha, Mousinho, III, 17-18.
20. Ibid., III, 28.
21. Ibid., III, 12-13; II, 50.
22. T h e circumscription was the major unit of administrative division in
366 NOTES

each district. T h e r e remained in unpacified areas a military command and in

the centers of white or civilized population, concelhos, or municipalities, ad-
ministered by local councils.
23. Eduardo Costa, "Principios de administraçâo colonial," in Antologia
colonial portuguesa, p. 93.
24. A f t e r the establishment of the Republic in 1910, both Paiva Couceiro
and Aires were prominent in monarchist resistance, especially Paiva Couceiro
w h o assumed command of the monarchist forces in exile. Both men played
leading roles in the abortive revolt of 1919.

CHAPTER X. PROMISE AND DISAPPOINTMENT, 1895-I93O

ι. N o t even the accomplishments of the African explorers and the genera-

tion of 189j were above reproach. Teixeira de Sousa, Minister of Marine and
Overseas f r o m 1900 to 1903, vented his impatience on these men too. "From
romantic A f r i c a w e have got nothing but anecdotes. W h a t did Sr. Serpa Pinto
bring us? Anecdotes. Sr. Capelo and Sr. Ivens? Anecdotes. W h a t did Sr. Ma-
riano de Carvalho give us? W h a t did Sr. Antonio Enes bring us? Anecdotes.
Stories to entertain children and administrative folly to make cynical bureau-
crats laugh." Arménio Monteiro, Conselheiro Dr. Antonio Teixeira de Sousa
(Lisbon, 1937), p. 34.
2. Enrollment was irregular in the first years (14 in 1906, 87 in 1913, 24 in
1915, 9 in 1918), but increased steadily after 1926. Antonio de Almeida and
Joäo F. Rodrigues, " O ensino colonial na metrópole e a sua influência sobre a
nossa administraçâo ultramarina," Estudos gérais (3 vols.; Lisbon, 1938), III,
301-405, is a useful study of the Colonial School.
3. Gomes dos Santos, As nossas colonias, pp. 11-13.
4. Joäo Lopes Carneiro de Moura, A administraçâo colonial portuguesa
(Lisbon, 1910), pp. 259-260.
5. J. Pereira do Nascimento and A . Alexandre de Mattos, A colonisaçâo de
Angola (Lisbon, 1912), pp. 7-8.
6. T h e war was a disaster f o r Portugal. Although it meant a great deal to
the small country's national pride, participation in the conflict created serious
economic problems with political repercussions that went on beyond 1918.
Both Angola and Moçambique, on the other hand, enjoyed a short-lived up-
surge in prosperity, and Portuguese East A f r i c a regained the sliver of Quionga
territory which she had lost to Germany in the 1890's. T h e African campaigns
have furnished much grist for the mills of Portuguese publicists in spite of the
military reverses suffered by Portugal. T h e incident at Naulila on Angola's
southern frontier in 1914 was a massacre, an act of wanton arrogance by Ger-
man troops, of seventy Portuguese and native soldiers. T h e East African cam-
paigns were equally undistinguished; General von Lettow moved almost at
will through Moçambique north of the Zambezi and northeast Rhodesia. Early
in 1916, Portuguese forces crossed the Rovuma into German East Africa, but
the triumph was brief and for the rest of the war, Portuguese action was main-
ly defensive. T h e rout of her forces in a small clash near Quelimane was
particularly humiliating to Portugal because of unkind British comments.
T h e popular defense of the Quelimane incident is that Portuguese forces
broke ranks and fled through no lack of courage but because they were unin-
structed. " N o r could w e count on the natives because wherever the Germans
 PROMISE AND D I S A P P O I N T M E N T , 1895-1930 367
went native revolts against Portuguese authority followed." Those English who
take pleasure in humiliating the Portuguese are reminded that with more men
and better equipment they also failed against von Lettow. See A . Duarte de Al-
meida, Historia colonial de Portugal (Lisbon, n.d.), pp. 227-228.
7. Armindo Monteiro, " A s grandes directrizes da governaçâo ultramarina
no período que decorreu entre as duas guerras mundiais," in Historia da ex-
pansäo portuguesa no mundo, III, 432.
8. T h e leading newspaper of Angola, A provìncia de Angola (October 17,
195 j , p. 1 ) printed a long article on the beginning of a subscription campaign
in the city of Nova Lisboa to build a monument to the memory of Norton de
Matos, about whom the Salazar government has mixed emotions. May one read
significance in this gesture by the Portuguese in Angola who constantly chafe
under the restrictions of Lisbon?
9. Quoted in d'Almeida Saldanha, Colonias, missöes e Acto Colonial, p. 27.
10. Brito Camacho, Pretos e brancos, pp. 6, 219, 268.
1 1 . In Malcolm Burr, A Fossicker in Angola (London, 1933), T . Alexander
Barns, Angolan Sketches (London, 1928), and Consul Maugham's two studies
on Portuguese East Africa one may find numerous references to the tidy
house and garden of the Portuguese administrator in the bush. T h e traveler was
sometimes more impressed with the garden than with the work done by the ad-
ministrator.
12. Norton de Matos, A provincia de Angola, pp. 219-223.
13. D'Almeida Saldanha, Colonias, pp. 97-99.
14. A provincia de Angola, p. 201.
i j . Julio Ferreira Pinto, Angola (Lisbon, 1926), pp. 1 1 4 - u j .
16. A provincia de Angola, pp. 248-250.
17. V a n der Horst, The Colonial Problem, pp. 1 1 0 - 1 1 1 .
18. Quoted in Sampaio e Melo, Política indigena, p. n o . More succinctly
Artur de Paiva suggested in 1892 that the Portuguese stop calling the African
a child and treat him like a man. Alberto de Almeida Teixera, Artur de Paiva,
P· 4 ' ·
19. I realize that these generalities are unfair to many Portuguese colonists,
but I believe they are in essence true. In the strange complex of Portuguese
attitudes toward the African one will find a willingness to intermarry, a readi-
ness to accept the civilized African as an equal, a sometimes benign tolerance
toward the indigena, but one seldom finds, save in some administrative and
missionary circles, any practical concern for the African's welfare.
20. See C. P. Groves, The Planting of Christianity in Africa (3 vols.; Lon-
don, 1948-1955), II, 272-277.
21. Moçambique, II, 185-188. Mousinho also suggested that his country
might be able to persuade the Transvaal government to permit the sale of Por-
tuguese wines in the Rand mines.
22. Almeida Garrett, Urn governo em Africa, p. 141. A long section of his
report is concerned with the devastations created by alcoholism.
23. Cadbury, Labour in Portuguese West Africa, p. 70.
24. A provincia de Angola, p. 141.
25. Barns, Angolan Sketches, p. 104.
26. These transitory schools were always in Luanda or Moçambique and
were mainly for the education of officials' children. In 1808, for example, the
368 NOTES
wife of Angola's Governor Saldanha da Gama gave classes in French and music
to the daughters of Luanda's illustrious families.
27. Avila de Azevedo, O problema escolar de Angola (Luanda, 1945), p.
12. A royal decree of 1852 called for a training center in Moçambique for
African girls, and a year later a seminary was created in Luanda; an occasional
political exile offered courses out of altruism or boredom, but these were
scarcely important contributions.
28. Mousinho de Albuquerque, Moçambique, II, 138-139.
29. Sampaio e Melo, Polìtica indigena, pp. 119-120.
30. Ibid.
31. Thomas Jesse Jones, Education in Africa (New York, 1922), pp. 224-
247 (Angola); Thomas Jesse Jones, Education in East Africa (New York,
1926), pp. 296-31j (Moçambique). T h e reports were attacked by Portuguese
spokesmen as distorted, but, apart from several doubtful generalities, the con-
clusions of the commission coincided with statistics and complaints made by
Portuguese officials in the same years.
32. D'Almeida Saldanha, Colonias, p. lxxiv.
33. Camacho, Ρretos e broncos, pp. 198, 234, 245, 266-267, 2 9ί· The high
commissioner's observations refer to the entire province. Of a visit to a mission
school outside of Lourenço Marques, Brito Camacho tells (p. 267) the follow-
ing anecdote. " T h e priest who says Mass is the same one who teaches school,
and it seems to me that God fated him for neither of these jobs. I attended
a class to see how it was taught. T h e first thing the teacher asked one of the
little black students was 'What are palavras esdrúxulas [words accented on the
antepenultimate syllable]?' When the little boy did not answer, he asked him
another question, 'What are polysyllabic words?'
"I told the teacher that if this was the way he taught the black boys, they
would easily come to know as much as the professor, but they would never
know enough to start down the road of life."
34. Quoted in Vaz de Sampaio e Melo, Política indígena, pp. 87-89.
3 j . Some Portuguese maintain that proof of their success is contained in
two clichés which gained currency in the early twentieth century. One is that
to the native, an Englishman is always an Englishman, a German is a German,
and a Frenchman, a Frenchman, but the Portuguese is always a white man (the
pride the Portuguese take in relating this anecdote — which reveals an atti-
tude quite contrary to their professed lack of color consciousness — shows how
much Portugal sought to adopt the colonial manners and prejudices of the
major powers after the Conference of Berlin). The second remark stressed the
point, which is very true, that so few Portuguese could live among so many
natives without fear and could go safely from one end of Portuguese Africa
to the other.
36. Vaz de Sampaio e Melo, Política indígena, p. 70. Although foreigners
have been generally charmed by the seemingly domestic serenity of the Afro-
Portuguese household and its happy mulatto offspring (Livingstone had said
that Portuguese policy did credit to their hearts), a number of governors were
less impressed. Norton de Matos saw the degeneration, or "cafrealization," of
the white man, while Brito Camacho complained that the abandonment of
mulatto children by their parents was a serious problem for the province,
since the boys usually grew up wastrels and the girls, prostitutes.
37. Kingsley, West African Studies, p. 290. Consul Nightingale held no hope
 MYSTIQUE AND ADMINISTRATION 369
for the future, however, without sharp revisions in the economic restrictions
strangling Angola.
38. Carneiro de Moura, A administraçâo colonial, p. 262.
39. Elemér Böhm, La mise en valeur des colonies portugaises (Lille, 1933),
pp. 212-216.
40. Ibid., p. 183; Vicente Ferreira, Estudos ultramarinos (4 vols.; Lisbon,
1943-1945), IV, 168. V o l . I V is chiefly a collection of Ferreira's essays on the
problems of colonization and reveal the preoccupations and sentiments of his
day.
41. Angola, p. 156.
42. Lourenço Marques' new status was not achieved without incident.
W h e n Brito Camacho asked the local golf club to print its rules in Portuguese
as well as English, he was attacked by his countrymen for his "shocking bad
taste" — and he replied accusing them of "a lamentable lack of national pride."
Pretos e trancos, pp. 265-266.

CHAPTER XI. THE N E W STATE IN AFRICA: M Y S T I Q U E AND ADMINISTRATION

ι. Even the much quoted remark, " W e Portuguese will be the last Euro-
peans to leave Africa," seems to have much less currency than it did a few
years ago.
2. Armindo Monteiro, "Portugal in Africa," Journal of the African Society,
X X X V I I I (1939), 259.
3. Antonio de Oliveira Salazar, " A naçâo na política colonial," in Antologia
colonial portuguesa, p. 328. In a speech made over the national radio on Novem-
ber ι, 1957, Salazar still emphasized the historical character of Portugal's poli-
cy, which is dedicated to the spread of Portuguese culture and faith among the
peoples of other colors and races in lands discovered by the Portuguese.
4. Joáo Ameal, "Mostruário do Impèrio," O mundo portugués, I (1934),
97-101.
5. Marcelo Caetano and others, "Discursos pronunciados. ..," O mundo
portugués, III (1936), 378, 381.
6. Conde de Campo Belo, " A mentalidade imperial através da expansáo
portuguesa no mundo," in Estudos gérais, I, 408.
7. Antonio Leite de Magalhäes, " N a estrada do Impèrio," O mundo portu-
gués, V (1938), 154. T h e translation does not do justice to the original.
8. Antonio Leite de Magalhäes, "Raizes de Portugal," O mundo portu-
guês, I V (1937), 363.
9. Sidney R. Welch, South Africa under King John III (Cape T o w n , 1948),
p. 139.
10. Quoted in Joáo Ameal, " O s très chefes do Impèrio," O mundo portu-
gués, I (1934), 164-165. T h e transition from empire and colonies to nation and
overseas provinces, an interesting study in semantics, will be discussed later.
l ì . Among the Agency's publications have figured prominently the writ-
ings of the generation of 1895 and studies on its various members.
12. Fernanda Reis, " O jornalismo colonial na metrópole," Conferéncias
na Escola Superior Colonial (Lisbon, 1943), pp. 327-346.
13. N o comprehensive study of the influence of the overseas expansion
on Portuguese thought exists.
14. Rodrigues Junior complains that there is no lack of writers, but a lack
3 70 NOTES
of books. He says that a writer in the colonies, with their inadequate print-
ing facilities, cannot afford to pay for the publication of his work, especially
since the amount of the prize is less than the cost of publication. Rodrigues
Junior, Literatura colonial (Lourenço Marques, 1953), pp. 29-32.
15. "The future of native Angolan literature in Ki-mbundu . . . is now
practically assured. J. Cordeiro da Matta, the negro poet of the Quanza River,
has abandoned the Portuguese muse in order to consecrate his talents to the
nascent national literature. The autodidactic and practical Ambaquistas of the
interior have begun to perceive the superiority, for purposes of private cor-
respondence, of their own tongue . . ." Heli Chatelain, Folk Tales of Angola
(Boston, 1894), p. viii.
16. In addition to the need for a colonial literature, more enthusiastic
writers have voiced the need for a colonial architecture to reflect both the
dynamic and traditional in Portuguese overseas culture. See José Osório de
Oliveira, "Necessidade de urna arquitectura portuguesa ñas colonias," O mundo
portugués, V (1938), 173-175.
Gilberto Freyre expressed mixed emotions on Angolan architecture. He
was dismayed at Lobito, finding there no vigorous expression of the modern,
but of Luanda he wrote: "Happily I find here people who have respect for
the past as something to be defended, not with the exaggerations of an anti-
quarian, but with a pleasure for those eternal Portuguese values which cut
through conventional notions of time to form a kind of 'alwaysism' . . .
Aventura e rotina, pp. 475-476.
17. Most old-time residents of the colonies speak well of the Colonial
School graduates, commenting particularly on their diligence and honesty.
18. Marcelo Caetano, "Carta a um jovem portugués sobre o serviço do
Impèrio," O mundo portugués, I (1934), 264. During the 1936 cruise, Caetano
spoke in Angola of the Portuguese university's role: "The university must be
—• if it desires to fulfill its high mission — a school of permanent devotion to
science, of constant national exaltation, of extensive and intensive moral
vibrance . . . The Portuguese university cannot remain apart from the pre-
occupations, difficulties, and hopes which in every moment and for every
generation arise in our country . . . And in the first level of the Portuguese
university's preoccupations there stands today the colonial problem." "Dis-
cursos pronunciados . . . " O mundo portugués, III (1936), 377.
19. O mundo portugués, II (1935), 218. A cruise in the other direction
took place in 1940 on the occasion of the Exposition of the Portuguese World.
A group of old colonists and soldiers was shipped by the government to
Portugal to participate in the ceremonies.
20. Salazar has so far not made a trip to Portuguese Africa, although he
is said to have remarked that such a visit would satisfy one of his greatest
desires. Nevertheless, more outward manifestations of a Salazar cult are present
in Africa than in Portugal. Streets, towns, schools, ships, all bear his name.
21. I was in Moçambique about six months before the arrival of Craveiro
Lopes. On a trip through the interior of the province, our car was greeted by
African children standing along the road with cries of "Viva Carmona!" The
driver wryly observed that they would have to be re-educated before the
arrival of Craveiro Lopes.
22. Quoted in O sêculo de Lisboa, August 13, 1956, p. 5.
23. Eric Robbins, This Man Malan (Cape Town, 1953), p. 7. Sheila Pat-
 M Y S T I Q U E AND ADMINISTRATION 37 I

terson's brilliant study, The Last Trek (London, 1957), brings out many con-
cepts of Afrikanerdom which are suggestive of attitudes taken by the Portu-
guese in the last twenty-five years.
24. Article 80, chapter viii, of "Proposta de lei no. 231," in Nova legislaçâo
ultramarina (2 vols.; Lisbon, 1953-1955), I, 132.
25. Joáo Ameal, "Mostruário do Impèrio," O mundo portugués, I (1934),
99-100.
26. Manuel Simöes Vaz, Problemas de Moçambique (Lourenço Marques,
1951), p. 42. With Portuguese colonial legislation in general, Simóes Vaz is
impatient: " T h e legislation in effect in Moçambique, both that emanating from
the Colonial Ministry as well as that published locally is a 'skull-breaker' f o r
anyone who trys to consult it. T h e laws and the decrees undergo constant
changes and clarifications, and it is necessary to be a specialist to understand
how they ought to be applied. Even specialists get confused and make mis-
takes which the tax payers inevitably have to pay for." Problemas de Mo-
çambique, p. 29.
27. Bahia dos Santos, Política ultramarina, pp. 152-153.
28. Insofar as anyone has clarified the terms used in referring to the Portu-
guese possessions, Marcelo Caetano's summary is as good as any other: "Before
the nineteenth century one does not find the official designation 'provinces'
used in referring to the territories we today call 'colonies.' Against the term
'colony' there exists an unjust prejudice, created especially after the advent
of the republican regime by the political sectarianism of the enemies of the
new government.
"Looking through the documents of the period prior to the nineteenth
century, we see that the territories conquered, colonized, or occupied by the
Portuguese were generally called 'overseas dominions' and at times 'con-
quistas' . . .
" T h e designation 'colony' is found in the seventeenth century and be-
comes current in the eighteenth century. 'Overseas provinces' are only intro-
duced into official language in the nineteenth century under the influence of
ideas of political and administrative assimilation which denied to the colonial
territories the need for a juridical administration different from that of
Portugal — which was patently absurd." Marcelo Caetano, Do Conselho Ultra-
marino ao Conselho do Impèrio (Lisbon, 1943), pp. 29-30.
29. A. Martins Afonso, Principios fundamentals de organizaçâo política
e administrativa da ηαςαο (5th ed.; Lisbon, 1956), p. 156.
30. Although working in collaboration with the governor general's office
and subject to its general supervision, certain administrative services, such as
the military corps, as well as the judicial and treasury offices, are a part of
national services.
31. In addition to the Provincial Statutes of Angola and Moçambique,
authorized in 1955 by the Organic Overseas L a w , f o r information on the
administrative organization, I have relied on: A . Martins Afonso, Principios
fundamentals, pp. 156-160; Lord Hailey, An African Survey (rev. ed.; London,
1957), pp. 228-231, 353-357; F. Clement C. Egerton, Angola in Perspective
(London, 1957), pp. 1 1 4 - 1 1 7 ; and various legislation contained in Nova
legislaçâo ultramarina.
32. A t the same time, however, there is evidence that some officials have
not yet attained the dedication demanded by the government. Silva Cunha
3 72 NOTES
writes: "Unfortunately there has been noted recently a certain dissatisfaction
. . . which has been translated into neglect of duty, discouragement, and lack
of faith. It is necessary to eliminate the causes of the discontent of these
functionaries and try to restore them to healthy optimism, to love and pride
of the profession. Only thus will our Native Policy carry out successfully its
mission." J. M. da Silva Cunha, O sistema portugués de política indigena
(Coimbra, i ç j j ) , p. 233.
It is not clear whether Silva Cunha had in mind administrative abuses as-
sociated with the recruiting of African labor; in this regard the procedures
of some officials, especially chiefs of post, have been open to much criticism.
33. The selection of colonial officials is of some interest. The office of
governor general is customarily occupied by a high official from the Portuguese
armed services. T o a lesser extent, the governor general's immediate associates
and the district governors also come from outside the colonial administrative
hierarchy, either from the armed services or the professions. Directors of
colonial services are usually professional men, many of whom have had long
careers overseas. The ranks of the lower administration, as we have seen, are
filled by men directly trained for the position. With the recent redistricting of
Angola and Moçambique, it may be expected that a larger number of ad-
ministradores will be promoted to district governors.
Admission to the colonial service is theoretically open to all qualified
applicants, regardless of color, but European Portuguese predominate. Claims
of discrimination against local recruits are not unheard of, and very few
assimilados from Angola or Moçambique have progressed up the administra-
tive ladder. Oden Meeker remarks that the colonial service is highly stratified,
but that the head of an important department might be very black. He cites
the case of an African administrador in Moçambique who had been trained
in Lisbon. Oden Meeker, Report on Africa ( N e w York, 1954), p. 224.

CHAPTER XII. THE N E W STATE IN AFRICA: NATIVE POLICY

ι. Bahia dos Santos, Politica ultramarina, pp. 81-82.

2. Moráis Cabrai, " A vitória do nosso espirito colonizador," O mundo
portugués, V I (1939), 216.
3. Silva Cunha, O siste?na portugués, pp. 140-141.
4. Ibid., pp. 143-144.
5. Nevertheless, the philanthropic wording of legislation like the Colonial
Act was disturbing to Portuguese colonists in Africa, usually more conservative
in their views on native problems than the government. Of the Colonial Act,
Eduardo d'Almeida Saldanha wrote: "Dr. Oliveira Salazar, in complete ig-
norance of the constitutional and physical differences between the white man
and the black man and only influenced by the doctrine of equality of the
idealists of the French Revolution . . . has concerned himself only with
creating a constitutional dogma largely favorable to the Negro." Colonias,
missóes, e Acto Colonial, pp. xviii-xx.
6. Articles 56-64, chapter iii of Decreto-lei no. 39,666, "Estatuto dos
indígenas portugueses das provincias da Guiñé, Angola, e Moçambique," in
Nova legislaçâo ultramarina, II, 202-204.
7. Marcelo Caetano, O s nativos na economia africana (Coimbra, 1954),
pp. 17-20.
 NATIVE POLICY 373
8. Silva Cunha, O sistema portugués, p. 1 4 j ; see also p. 115.
9. Q u o t e d in R e m y , Goa, Roma do Oriente, trans, b y M . G . (Lisbon, 1955),
p. 17.
10. Eduardo de A z e v e d o , Terra de esperança (Lisbon, 1954), p. 150.
11. T h e government's attitude is approximately summed b y the anthro-
pologist Mendes Correia:
Miscegenation in certain special cases (scarcity of Portuguese colonists from the
metropolis, difficulty of acclimatization for the European) is a recourse for consolida-
tion and development in the exploitation of territories, according to modern processes
and in a spirit of collaboration between the Portuguese immigrants and the natives.
As human beings, tied to our race by the sacred bonds of origin, the mulattoes have
a right to our sympathy and help. But the reasons which we have propounded do not
permit the political role of the mestigos to go beyond the limits of local life. How-
ever brilliant and effective may be their professional, economic, agricultural, or in-
dustrial action, they, as naturalized foreigners, must never hold high posts in the gen-
eral politics of the country, except perhaps in cases of proved and complete identifi-
cation with us in temperament, in will, in feeling, in ideas, cases which are both ex-
ceptional and improbable.

A . A . Mendes Correia, O mestiçamento ñas colonias portuguesas (Lisbon,

I 94°)i ΡΡ· 22-23·
12. Bahia dos Santos, Política ultramarina, p. i6y. A n o t h e r Portuguese
colonialist writes: "So sincere is our esteem f o r those w h o belong to the
primitive races of A f r i c a that . . . w e accept them in our v e r y midst without
feeling f o r them the least repugnance, thus departing radically f r o m the
restrictions and prejudices w h i c h are manifest principally in the A n g l o - S a x o n
and G e r m a n i c races." Jorge Pedro de Figueiredo Marinho da Silva, O sentido
do imperialismo portugués (2 vols.; Lisbon, 1942), I, 50.
13. Commenting on these incidents — w h i c h still occur — t h e Brazilian
Gilberto Freyre takes his Portuguese cousins sharply to task. " A Portugal
that is pretentious and imperially European, ethnocentric, ' A r y a n , ' is a Portu-
gal w h i c h has as little future in A f r i c a as Holland has in Asia . . . T h e
Portugal capable of eternalizing herself in A f r i c a is the Portugal w h o remem-
bers that she is A r a b i c or Moorish, and not only N o r d i c , in her origins and
in her culture, character, and actions." Aventura e retina, p. 483.
14. "It [Luanda] was Portugal but fused into A f r i c a . Natives and half-castes
sat at the wine shops, and children of every grade f r o m black to white played
in the streets. It was often difficult to distinguish w h i c h of the population
were European and w h i c h A f r i c a n . . .
"Europe at its lowest standard of living is not far r e m o v e d f r o m A f r i c a .
T h e Portuguese peasant does not live so differently f r o m the A f r i c a n peasant.
T h e A f r i c a n makes an implicit caste distinction between the big white and
the small white; he refers to the Portuguese as the black man of Europe and
reacts to him as an equal.
" N o r to the Portuguese is he essentially inferior. T h u s the t w o races have
absorbed one another quite comfortably. I have seen them in school, in hos-
pital, in prison together. T h e y have the same rights, the same judicial system,
and . . . the same language." Patrick Balfour, Lands of the Equator: An
African journey ( L o n d o n , 1937), p. 79.
15. See C . G . W o o d s o n , "Attitudes of the Iberian Peninsula," Journal of
Negro History, X X (1935), 190-243.
374 NOTES
16. Manuel Récio records a conversation he overheard at the Lumbo air-
port in Moçambique. "Alongside of me are two ladies talking about the nati ves.
One of the ladies is a teacher and condemns all Negroes without exception . . .
'"Animals . . . savages . . . Don't trust them, don't speak to them!'
" 'Pardon me . . . I don't think so,' protests the other lady, who is not a
professor, who has no official responsibilities. 'They are human beings, worthy
of our respect and our aid . . .'
" 'Fancy words. I am the one who knows them well . . . Animals! A n d
after all, there's the question of race, the white skin.' And the professera slaps
her bare, pink, fleshy arm.
" T h e other lady repeats softly in either sorrow or indignation, 'Race . . .
color . . . But what do race and color have to do with humanitarian senti-
ments?'" Manuel Récio, Homerts no mato (Lisbon, 1952). p. 117.
17. Freyre, Aventura e retina, p. 490; Azevedo, Terra de esperança, pp.
114-115.
18. Julio Nunes de Oliveira, "Moçambique: Alguns aspectos e problemas
da sua vida politica, econòmica e social," in Conferencias na Escola Superior
Colonial (Lisbon, 1943), pp. J9-60.
Mendes Correia takes a similar view. "Angola can support a white popula-
tion greater than that of the metropolis . . . But it will be necessary to treat
equally the natives and the populational groups resulting from the mixing,
whatever the policy may be . . . A l l Angolans will recognize our firm desire
that Angola be forever Portuguese and very Portuguese." Raças do impèrio,
p. 482.
19. Articles 2 and 3, chapter iii, of Dicreto-lei no. 39,666.
20. Silva Cunha, O sistema portugués, p. 205.
21. Ibid., p. 207.
22. Preamble to Dicreto no. 39,817. In Nova legislaçâo ultramarina, II, 223-

23. Details on matters of this sort are hard to come by. See A . T . Steele,
"On the Edge of Africa's Racial Troubles," New York Herald-Tribune,
November 26, 1952, p. 16.
24. These taxes, formerly one of the financial supports of the provinces,
now provide only about 7 to 8 per cent of the yearly total revenue.
25. T h e Liga Africana was perhaps more representative of African
aspirations in the 1920's, although it has never effectively counted f o r much
in influencing Portuguese policy. W . E . B. DuBois speaks of the Third Pan-
African Conference he attended in Lisbon in 1923, at which the Liga
Africana was host. H e quotes a Portuguese deputy on the function of the
Liga: " T h e great association of Portuguese Negroes, with headquarters at
Lisbon, called the Liga Africana is an actual federation of all the indigenous
associations scattered throughout the five provinces of Portuguese Africa and
represents several million individuals . . . T h e Liga Africana . . . has a com-
mission for all the other native organizations and knows how to express to
the government in no ambiguous terms, but in a dignified manner, all that
should be said to avoid injustice or to bring about the repeal of harsh laws.
That is w h y the Liga Africana of Lisbon is the director of the Portuguese
African movement, but only in the good sense of the word, without making
any appeal to violence and without leaving constitutional limits." W . E . B.
DuBois, The World and Africa ( N e w York, 1947), p. 241.
 NATIVE POLICY 375
26. O brado africano, February 27, 1932, p. ι. These selections do not
reveal the full protest of this very long editorial.
27. T h e colonial administration continues to find it difficult to curb ex-
cesses in the distribution and sale of wine, which remains one of the most im-
portant import commodities, and drunkenness, even alcoholism, is a serious
problem in parts of both colonies.
28. Davidson, The African Awakening, p. 223.
29. Azevedo, Terra de esperança, pp. 148-150. " T o solve the problem,"
Azevedo goes on, "the government must make a real effort. Good intentions
and words are not enough."
30. Simóes Vaz, Problemas de Moçambique, p. 53.
31. See Teófilo Duarte, "Aldeamento indígena," in Estudos coloniais
(Lisbon, 1942), pp. 113-128.
32. "Social and Economic Organization in the Portuguese Colonies,"
Colonial Review, U (1941), 121-122.
33. See José Firmo de Sousa Monteiro, Relatório sobre o resgate dos
"machongos" do Sul do Save (Lourenço Marques, 1955).
34. Egerton, Angola in Perspective, p. 220.
35. Moçambique had about one hundred thousand Mohammedans. For
giving me figures on the number of missionaries presently in the two colonies,
I am indebted to Mr. Kenyon E. Moyer of the Missionary Research Library in
N e w York and to the Reverend Frederick A . McGuire, C.M., of the Mission
Secretariat in Washington. For other statistics I have relied on the Anuarios
estaústicos of Angola and Moçambique.
36. Afonso Costa Valdez Thomas dos Santos, Angola, coraçâo do impèrio
(Lisbon, 1945), pp. 92-93. He continues: " T h e native is not easily dena-
tionalized . . . However exclusive has been his education in a Protestant re-
ligious mission, no Negro will stop wanting to imitate Portuguese customs
on leaving his academic life."
37. T h e Organic Overseas Law defines the ensino rudimentär and relates
to Portugal's colonial policy: "Instruction especially intended for natives in
the provinces where the native regime still prevails will, in those regions where
Portuguese Catholic missions are established, be entirely entrusted to mis-
sionary personnel and their assistants. In localities where these missions cannot
carry out the function, instruction will continue to be the charge of the State.
" T h e instruction of natives in private schools must be subordinated to the
same general orientation to which it is submitted when administered by the
State.
"In the instruction of natives there is envisioned their perfect nationalization
and moralization and their acquisition of habits and aptitudes of work in keep-
ing with their sex, condition, and local economic conditions.
"Native languages may be used as an instrument in the teaching of Portu-
guese." Quoted in Bahia dos Santos, Política ultramarina, p. 164.
38. Hugo Rocha, " N o impèrio portugués ensina-se a falar a lingua de Portu-
gal," O mundo portugués, I (1934), 184.
39. See Childs, Umbundu Kinship and Character, pp. 142-143.
40. Having converted the colonies to provinces in 1951, several years be-
fore her admission to the United Nations, Portugal declares that she has no
obligation for submitting reports on non-self-governing territories to the
376 NOTES

United Nations. T h i s argument, as shall be seen later, has not been universally
accepted.
41. Marcelo Caetano, Os nativos na economìa africana, p. 16.
42. Quoted in " A estadia do Sr. Ministro das Colonias nas terras africanas
do Impèrio," O mundo portugués, Χ (1943), j j 4 . Such a statement is al-
together consistent with the government's stated view that the Portuguese
laborer should find joy through w o r k — no matter whether poorly recom-
pensed. T h e Portuguese economic system is not much less exploitative at
home than it is overseas.
43. For the last several years, the government has spoken of preparing a
new native labor code, but at the moment of writing (December 1957), I am
not aware that one has appeared.
44. Even so, the 1928 code and the native labor principles stated in the
Colonial A c t were regarded b y conservative Portuguese colonists as non-
sense, conceived with no sense of the provincial need for a constant labor
supply. See d'Almeida Saldanha, Colonias, missöes, e Acto Colonial, pp. xxxiii-
xlix.
45. Exempt from the draft are children under fourteen and people over
sixty, the sick and invalid, sepoys ( w h o usually are in charge of the labor
brigades), Africans employed in public service, Africans working for them-
selves or others, recognized chiefs, women — except in special cases — and
workers during the first six months after their return to their village. These
exceptions are not always closely observed.
46. For this synthesis of labor laws 1 have relied principally on Silva
Cunha, O trabalho indígena, pp. 201-270. See also Egerton, Angola in Per-
spective, pp. 258-262; Bahia dos Santos, Politica ultramarina, pp. 159-160;
Hailey, An African Survey, pp. 1371-1375; L u c y P. Mair, Native Policies
in Africa (London, 1936), pp. 250-260.
47. Quoted in A Huila, M a y 19, 1956, p. 1.
48. Angola in Perspective, p. 264.
49. Manuel Récio, H omens no mato, p. 51. T h e Diamond Company of
Angola has stated that the twelve-month limitation on contracts has "prej-
udicial and pernicious effects" on the company's operations. Relatório rela-
tivo ao exercicio de (Lisbon, 1956), pp. 49-50.
50. Valdez Thomas dos Santos, Angola, coraçâo do Impèrio, p. 91.
51. " A protecçâo dos menores do ultramar," O século de Lisboa, August
4, 1956, ρ. ι.
52. Os nativos na economia africana, pp. 34-35.
53. Such efforts, according to d'Almeida Saldanha, were pointless. Speak-
ing of the Colonial A c t , he wrote: "It is useless to intrude these precepts
[freedom of labor] into the constitution of the country, or even to publish
them again, because foreigners are convinced that although our laws are
excellent (and they are not always that) the better they are, the less w e
carry them out." Colonias, p. 83.
54. A . T . Steele, "Forced Labor is Common for Angola's Natives," New
York Herald-Tribune, February 15, 1948, p. 13; see also Steele's report on
Moçambique in the Herald-Tribune, N o v e m b e r 26, 1952, p. 16.
55. Elizabeth Landis, " U N Stepchildren," Africa Today, January-February,
1958, p. I5.
 P R O J E C T S AND PROBLEMS 377
56. The Manchester Guardian, February 27, 1958, p. 9, and March 9,
p. I.
57. Basil Davidson, "Africa's Modern Slavery," Harper's, July 1954, pp.
56-64; The African Awakening (London, 1955), pp. 190-232; New Statesman,
May 8, 1954, p. 585, and May 15, 1954, p. 621.

CHAPTER XIII. T H E N E W S T A T E I N A F R I C A : P R O J E C T S AND P R O B L E M S

ι. Americo Chaves de Almeida, O problema da Africa oriental portu-

guesa (2 vols.; Lisbon, 1932), I, 249.
2. Carmelo Viñas y Mey, La nueva política colonial portuguesa (Santiago
de Campostela, 1934), passim.
3. In 1952, f o r example, the following direct taxes were collected in
Angola (figures given in contos, a conto being worth thirty-five dollars):
industrial taxes, 58,000; professional income taxes, 13,800; property taxes, 6,400;
taxes on agriculture, forestry, and fishing, 48,000; surtax on income, 112,000;
African head tax, 93,593. Figures from The African World, November 1953,
p. 56.
4. Azevedo, Terra de esperança, p. 218.
5. Writing of the Portuguese occupation of Africa prior to the N e w
State's regime, Professor Macmillan observed that "the Portuguese record
established in advance the truth of at least one fundamental principle . . .
that there is little to be got out of Africa except by those able and willing to put
a great deal in." W . M. Macmillan, Africa Emergent, pp. 94-95. He goes on
to say: "Slight as it was, the Portuguese achievement compares favorably with
that of any European rivals in the tropical parts of Africa."
6. Simöes Vaz is most critical of the way the government has spent money
in Moçambique, too much going, he argues, f o r show and not enough for well
planned projects. H e mentions a two-lane bridge over the Matala where a
one-lane bridge would have been sufficient, since the road is straight on either
side and the traffic is light. But, he adds, "It is a work which honors us!" A
second example is the Liceu Salazar in Lourenço Marques with its marble
halls and elevators but with smaller laboratories than in the school it replaced.
T h e government could have built two large simple schools, he concludes,
for the price of this one. Problemas de Moçambique, pp. 35-40.
7. T h e National Development Plan makes practically no provision for the
expansion of medical or educational services; these programs continue to
depend on the colonies' yearly budget appropriation.
8. Simöes Vaz, Problemas de Moçambique, pp. 25-26.
9. The census figures for some of these years are inaccurate and misleading.
T h e number of white persons was estimated in 1927 to be 42,843, in 1931 to
be 59,493, and in. 1940 to be 44,000. T h e 1931 figure, however, includes a
portion of the mulatto population while the 1940 total does not. Many Portu-
guese did leave Angola in the 1930's, but a small immigration and the local birth
rate almost counterbalanced the difference.
10. Moçambique's Indian and Chinese population, about 10,000 and 1,500
respectively, has remained fairly constant. The British Indian remains a
vexing problem for the Moçambique administration, since he prefers to
send his profit out of the country — in spite of currency restrictions — in-
stead of investing it in the province. In recent years the local government
has moved to restrict their migration and trade in the interior.
378 NOTES
11. Q u o t e d in The Colonial Problem, p. 345. See also A r m i n d o Monteiro,
The Portuguese in Modern Colonization (Lisbon, n.d.).
12. Genipro de Eça d'Almeida, Colonizaçâo, um problema nacional (Lisbon,
' 9 4 í ) ' ΡΡ· 597^3·
ΐ3· Antonio de Oliveira Salazar, "Após 15 anos de governo," O mundo
portugués, Χ (ΐ94ΐ)> Ó93·
ΐ4· Similar projects sponsored b y the Benguela Railway have not worked
out well.
ι j . This figure is given b y Luis C. Lupi, " T h e Portuguese President's
Historic A f r i c a n T o u r , " African World Annual, 1954, p. 25. Egerton gives
only 150 families f o r the same year in Angola in Perspective, p. 241.
16. T h e colonatos had not yet made m u c h contribution to the money
economy of their province.
17. Luanda may hardly be called a small city any longer, having a popula-
tion of over 200,000, of w h o m about 40,000 are European. Lourenço Marques
has about 100,000 inhabitants and Beira, perhaps 50,000. N o v a Lisboa with
38,000 people, and Lobito and Benguela with 32,000 and 16,000 each are the
next largest cities in Angola. T h e s e figures include Africans and Europeans.
18. Q u o t e d in Noticias de Portugal, August 10, 1957, p. 2. Even Rhodesian
complaints against the congestion at Beira and the reluctance of the P o r t u -
guese to make foreign concessions in Moçambique have d r a w n rebuke. "It is
unfair to lay the blame f o r the existing state of affairs on the Portuguese.
A n y close student of the history of the relations between the Portuguese
colonies of Moçambique and Angola and their hinterland neighbors during
the past half century well knows that they have had some unfortunate
experiences and these have enhanced the nationalist sentiment of dislike f o r
concessions which, in their view, impaired their sovereignty over the terri-
tory." African World, F e b r u a r y 1949, p. 10.
19. See Silva Cunha, O trabalho indígena, pp. 273-288, f o r a summary of
the Portuguese position. Portugal does participate in the Inter-African Labor
Conference, whose views she finds more congenial, and was host t o the f o u r t h
session of the Conference at Beira in 1955.
20. Quoted in O mundo portugués, I V (1937). 53·
21. See Antonio Leite de Magalhäes, " O problema das materias primas,"
O mundo portugués, IV (1937), 55-59, and Conde de Penha Garcia, " O
Impèrio colonial e os internacionalismos," O mundo portugués, I V (1937),
5-7·
T h e natural tendency of Portugal's authoritarian regime to sympathize
with the governments of Italy and G e r m a n y in the 1930's is well k n o w n . D u r -
ing the early years of the w a r Lourenço Marques was a miniature Lisbon as
a center of espionage and intrigue. Persistent reports refer to a short-wave
radio station outside of the city which f r o m 1939 transmitted shipping news
and other intelligence to G e r m a n y and directed G e r m a n submarine attacks
in the Indian Ocean. See Selwyn James, South of the Congo, pp. 233-262,
and Roderick Peattie, Struggle on the Veld ( N e w York, 1947), p. 93.
22. Hailey, An African Survey, pp. 233-262, has a detailed presentation of
the general problem of international trusteeships and the United Nations.
23. Quoted in Alan Grey, " L o r d Hailey and the A f r i c a n Survey," African
World, December 1957, p. 9.
 INDEX
Abreu, V a s c o Gomes de, 33 Almeida, Diogo de, 34
Abreu e Brito, Domingos, 57 Almeida, Francisco de, G o v e r n o r of A n -
Administration, colonial: corruption in, gola, 56-57, 58
63, 249, 252; under Liberal governments, Almeida, Francisco de, V i c e r o y of India,
75—76; Enes on, 237-238; units of local 28, 31
government, 242-243, 248-249, 281, 282; Almeida, Joäo de, 229
military vs. civil, 247, 249; personnel, Almeida, Joáo Tavares de, 148
247-252 passim, 287, 372η; 20th-century Almeida de Eça, Filipe Gastâo de, 275
reforms in, 248-250; high cost of, 263; Almeida Garrett, T h o m a z de, 169, 256
redistricting, 281-282; system under N e w Alvaro I, Manicongo, 21
State, 282-288, 296; " c o l o n y " to "prov- Alvaro II, Manicongo, 1 1 5
ince," 281, 296, 371η Amaro José (pombeino), 177, 188-189,
Administrative Overseas R e f o r m A c t of 191-192
1933, 280 Ambaca, region of Angola, 63, 179
Administrator, 243, 248-249, 252, 253, 286- Ambriz, Angola, 15t, 208
287 Ameal, Jorge, 270
A f o n s o I, Manicongo, 12, 13, 16-19 passim, American Board of Commissioners f o r
,38 Foreign Missions, 123, 124, 127
A f o n s o II, Manicongo, 21 Anchieta, José Alberto de Oliveira, 195
A f r i c a n Education Commission, 259 Andrade Corvo, Joáo de, 195-196, 197
A f r i c a n peoples: of the Congo, 1 0 - 1 1 ; of Anglo-German Agreement of i8p8, 223
Moçambique, 3 1 - 3 2 ; of Angola, 50 Anglo-German Settlement of 1890, 222
Africans: Portuguese policy toward, 1500- Anglo-Portuguese T r e a t y of 181;, 142, 144
1800, 6, 12-16, 22-23, 32> 34* 45-46, 49, Anglo-Portuguese T r e a t y of 1842, 145
63; wars with Portuguese, 36-38, 41-42, Anglo-Portuguese Treaty of 1884, 201, 209,
47, 55-56, 63-64, 70, 226-234; Portuguese 210
policy toward, in 19th and early 20th Anglo-Portuguese T r e a t y of ;#po, 220
centuries, 7 4 , 7 5 , 1 3 0 - 1 3 2 , 1 5 0 - 1 5 8 passim, Anglo-Portuguese T r e a t y of 1891, 123,
178, 238-239, 241-243, 253-261; and prazo 220-224
system, 84, 87; fundamental Portuguese Anglo-Portuguese Pact of 1899 (Windsor
concept of, 130-132, 173, 260-261; emi- T r e a t y ) , 223
gration f r o m Portuguese territory, 169, Angoche Islands, 30, 234
308, 325-326; N e w State's policy con- Angola: general description, 1-2, 49, 7 3 -
cerning, 284-285, 286-288, chap, xii; le- 74, 97; boundaries, 1 - 2 , 50, 200, 2 1 2 - 2 1 3 ,
gal status, 290-291; living conditions, 2 1 4 - 2 1 5 ; economy, 2-3, 192-193, 250,
297, 306, 333; political agitation, 303-304; 262-265; a n d Congo kingdom, 1 1 , 49-53
organizations, 304-305; police control passim·, colonization, 54-55, 69, 266, 337-
over, 303-305; social services for, 306- 338; administration, 57, 63, 69, 70, 71-72,
307; future of, in Portuguese colonies, 248, 249-250, 281-282; occupation, 58,
342-343. See also Assimilation; Contract 68,70,96,177,226-230; white population,
labor; Miscegenation 101, 266, 335-336; rubber scandals, 124,
Agencia Geral do Ultramar, 273, 274 154-155; visited by Livingstone, 177—
Agriculture, 2-3, 94-95, 102, 179, 337-338, 180; natural sciences in, 194; modern
346η. See also Land companies; Prazo development, 334-335. See also Educa-
system tion; Exploration; Contract labor; Slave
Albuquerque, A f o n s o de, 9, 30 trade
Albuquerque, T o v a r de, 73 Angola Evangelical League, 126
Alcoholic beverages, 256-257 Angonia, Moçambique, 234
Alcovaça, Diogo de, 30 Angra do Negro, Angola, 72
Ali B e y , 29 Antonio I, Manicongo, 70
Almeida, Belo de, 154 Anzicos, African people, 1 1 , 21
 380 INDEX
Arab-Asian bloc, 341-342 Benguela highlands, 124, 228-229
Arabs, 37, 39,4j; city-states in East Africa, Benguela Railway, 266, 347n-34§n
26-30 passim·, slave trade in Moçam- Bernardo, Manicongo, 21
bique, 45, 94, 145, 175-176, 186, 204 Bié plateau, 72, 125, 192, 193, 228-229
Aragäo, Baltasar Rebelo de, 59-60, 189 Biker, Judice, 158-159
Arguim, 132, 133 Bilhete de identidade, 295
Armattoe, R . E . G., 12 Bismarck, Otto Edward Leopold von, 210
Arnot, Frederick Stanley, 125, 194 Bissau, Portuguese Guinea, 137
Arruda, Miguel de, 35 Bocarro, Gaspar, 190
Assimilitelo, 295, 314 Boer War, 223
Assimilation, practice and policy, 131, 243, Boers, 99-101, 194, 206-207
255, 261, 342; in Congo kingdom, 13, 22; Böhm, Elemér, 265
in Moçambique, 45-46; and Liberals, 75; Boma, Belgian Congo, 212
historical antecedents, 291-292; and N e w Bombay, India, 44
State, 292-297, 300 Boror Company, 92
Associacäo dos Naturais, 305 Botha, Jakobus, 98, 99, 101
Ataíde, Esteváo de, 42 Bourne, H . R . Fox, 159-160
Austria, 95, 202 Boxer, Charles, 66
Azevedo, Agostinho de, 43 Brado africano, O, 305-306
Azevedo, Eduardo de, 297,300, 306 Bradshaw, Benjamin, 198
Azevedo Coutinho, Joáo Antonio, 233-234 Brazil, 24, 48, 79, 80; slavery and slave
Azores, 79 trade, 45, 134, 137, 138-139, 144, 145, 146;
Jesuits in, 53; the Dutch and, 65; and
Bacelar Bebiano, José, 277 the recapture of Angola, 66-69; a n d
Bahia dos Santos, Francisco, 291-292 African union, 75; settlers f o r Angola
Bailundo, Angola, 124, 193, 228 from, 98-99; and Portuguese immigra-
tion, 265; ties to Portugal, 271
Banana, Belgian Congo, 212
Brazza, Savorgnan de, 208-209
Banco de Angola, 264
Brethren's Mission, 123, 125-126
Banco Nacional Ultramarino, 264
British and Foreign Anti-Slavery Society,
Banians, Indian traders, 44, 81-82
159, 163
Baptista, Manuel, 115
Barns, T . Alexander, 63, 257 British East India Company, 204
Barotse, African people, 32 British South Africa Company, 90, 217—
Barotseland, 176 220 passim, 230, 231
Barreto, Francisco, 37-38, 53, 108 Brito Camacho, Manuel de, 114, 169, 234,
Barros, Joáo de, 18 251, 256, 259
Barros Gomes, Henrique, 214-219 passim Brussels A c t of 1890, 123
Barroso, Antonio, Bishop, 13, 23, 113, 1 2 1 - Brussels Conference of ¡ S j j , 207
122, 124, 260 Bukoto, Moçambique, 39
Barué, region of Moçambique, 231, 233- Burton, Sir Richard, 191
234 Burtt, Joseph, 161-163, '64
Battell, Andrew, 62-63 Buxton, Thomas, 144
Bechuanaland, 215 Buxton, Travers, 159-160
Beira, Moçambique, 3, 92, 266, 334
Belgian Congo, 131, 157, 325, 339-340. See Cabinda enclave, 208, 212, 213
also International Association of the Caconda, Angola, 70, 97-98, 193, 195, 309
Congo; Congo Free State Cadbury, William, 161-163, 165, 256-257
Belmonte, Angola, 192, 193 Caderneta, see Passbook
Belo, Joáo, 250, 293 Caetano, Marcelo, 270, 276, 296
Benedictines, 122 Caiado, Antonio, 36, 107
Benguela, Angola, 56, 70, 266; founding, Caldas Xavier, Alfredo Augusto, 86
60; in 17th century, 62; captured by Cambambe, region of Angola, 56, 57, 59-
Dutch, 65; and separatist uprising, 75; 60
in 1800's, 98; contract labor port, 158; Cameron, V . Lovett, 150
slave trails to, 176 Camóes, Luís de, 219, 270
Benguela, dominion of, 60-62 Canarins, Indian traders, 44
 INDEX 3 8ι

Cao, Diogo, 6, 9, 10, 25, jo Colonatos, 308-310, 337-338

Cape Delgado, 27, 29 Colonial Act of ¡930, 105, 250, 278-281,
Capelo, Hermenegildo, 98, 197-199 319-320
Cape of Good Hope, 9, 25, 40 Colonial literature, 274-275
Cape Verde Islands, 80 Colonial Reform Act of 190η, 242,248-249
Capranzine, Monomotapa, 46, 47 Colonization, chap, iv passim·, in Angola,
Capuchins, 67, 106, 110, 1 1 4 - 1 1 9 passim, 54-55, 62, 72, 76; in Moçambique, 237;
124
early 20th century, 265-267; under N e w
Cardoso, Antonio, 217 State, 335-339; pattern of, 352; Frey re
Cardoso, Augusto, 199 on, 354η
Carmelites, 22, 114, 119 Colono, 146
Carmona, Antonio Oscar Fragoso de, 277 Commerce, see Trade and commerce
Carneiro de Moura, Joäo Lopes, 247 . Companhia de Cacheu e Cabo Verde, 137
Cassange, Angola, 191, 192 Concelho, 282, 286
Castilho, Augusto de, 86 Conference of Berlin, 78, 201, 210-213,215;
Castlereagh, Robert Stewart, Viscount, General A c t of, 123, 211
143-144 Conference of Colonial Governors of ¡933,
Castro, Baltasar de, 50-51 330-33 1
Catarina de Braganza, queen regent of Congo, Kingdom of the (1483-1883): ear-
Portugal, 34-35, 52 ly history, chap, i passim·, and evangeli-
Catembe, Moçambique, 205 zation, 13-14, J8, 1 1 4 - 1 1 7 , 1 2 1 ; and slave
Catholic Church, Portuguese: and educa- trade, 15, 16, 19-20, 23, 60, 137-138; and
tion for African, 104; controversies with Angola, 45-53 passivi-, wars with king
Portuguese government, 105, 114; ad- of Angola, 51-52; and the Dutch, 67;
ministration in Moçambique, 109; and climate, 349η; education in, 349η
social services in Angola, 119, 1 2 1 ; ad- Congo Free State, 213. See also Belgian
ministration and organization in Por- Congo; International Association of the
tuguese Africa, 310-311 ; census of 1950's, Congo
311. See also Evangelization; names of Congo River, 2, 6, 71
religious orders Congo River basin, 208-211 pasrìm
Catumbela, Angola, 158 Conrad, Joseph, 158
Caxito, Angola, 52 Contract labor, 127, 358η; fundamental
Cazembe, African chief, 190 Portuguese concept of, 150-151, 238-
Cela (colonato), Angola, 337 239, 318, 324; Portuguese legislation on,
Ceuta, Morocco, 7, 9 152-157, 318-322; exploitation and abus-
Chaimite, Moçambique, 233 es, 153-154, 157-158, 163, 166-167, 173.
Chambezi River, 191 322-323; practices in Angola, 153-157;
Charles II, King of England, 44 obligations of workers and employers,
Charles et George, 148, 186 156-157, 321; scandals in Angola, 157-
Chatelain, Heli, 126, 275 168; supplied to Säo Tomé, 158-169
Chicoa, Moçambique, 38, 41, 42 passim, 325; defense of, 168, 328, 355η;
Chief of post, 286-287 practices in Moçambique, 168^173; sup-
Child labor, 323 plied to Transvaal mines, 168-173 pas-
Childs, Gladwyn Murray, 124, 129 sim·, to Natal, 169; to Rhodesias, 169,
Christian and Missionary Alliance, 126 325; to Belgian Congo, 169, 325; and
Church of England, 128 colonial economy, 253-254, 323-324; un-
Circumscription, 242-243, 286-287 der N e w State, 317-328; types of, 320-
Clarendon, George William Frederick Vil- 321
liers, Earl of, 182 Coolela, Moçambique, 233
Clergy: African, 110, 1 1 4 - 1 1 5 , 118, 120; Cordeiro, Luciano, 195, 196
foreign, 1 1 5 - 1 1 6 , 120; Goan, 110, 112; Corporal punishment, 154, 304
secular, 119, 120. See also Catholic Correia de Sousa, Joäo, 63-64
Church; Evangelization; Protestant mis- Correia Lopes, Edmundo, 146
sions; names of religious orders Costa, Eduardo, 235, 242-243
Coffee, 3, 73, 346η Costa, Luisa da, 88
Coillard, François, 198 Cotton, 73, 74, 364η
 3 82 INDEX
Coupland, Reginald, 182 Eanes, Gil, 7-8
Coutínho, Joáo Rodrigues, 58-59 East Africa, 27, 28, 29, 45
Covilhá, Pero da, 25 Eça d'Almeida, Genipro, 337
Cramer, Melville, 166, 168 Economic Cooperation Administration,
Craveiro Lopes, Francisco Higino, 277 333
Crawford, Daniel, 96 Economy, colonial, 165, 263-264, 329-333.
Cruz, Antonio Vicente da (Bonga), 88- See also Trade and commerce
89 Eden, Sir Anthony, 340
Cruz, Nicolau Pascoal da, 88 Education: in Congo kingdom, 20; and
Cuamoto, Angola, 228 Catholic church, 104-10J, 118, 119, 311;
Cuango River, 11, 65, 213 and Protestant missions, 124-129 passim·,
Cuanhama, African people, 227-228 in 19th and early 20th centuries, 255,
Cuanza Norte, district of Angola, 2 257-260; school census, 257, 258, 314,
Cuanza River, 50, 51, 52, 59 315; use of Portuguese language, 259,
Cubango River, 227 316; under New State, 313-316; for
Cunha, Francisco de Vasconcelos da, 64 African elite, 315; New State view of,
Cunha, Paulo, 342 375«
Cunha, Pedro Alexandre da, 76 Eeerton, F. C. C., 323, 328
Cunha Leal, Francisco Pinto da, 252 Eleanor, 206
Currie, Walter, 124 Enes, Antonio, 76; and prazo system, 86;
Currie Institute, 124 on contract labor, 155, 237-238, 254; and
Cunene River, 195, 309 English ultimatum of 1890, 219, 236; and
occupation of Moçambique, 231-233; as
Dahomey, 137 Royal Commissioner of Moçambique,
Dambarare, Moçambique, 190 234-235; and colonial policy and ad-
Dande, region of Angola, 229 ministration, 155, 225, 236-239
Dande River, 11, 50, 52 England: trades in Moçambique, 44; trades
at mouth of Congo, 60; treaties with
Davidson, Basil, 6, 160, 275, 327-328
Portugual, 70; and suppression of slave
Delagoa Bay, 36, 95, 204-208, 222
trade, 76, 142-145, 147-150; and Guinea
Dembos, region of Angola, 227
slave trade, 136, 137; abolishes slave
Denmark, 143 trade, 143; critical of Portuguese con-
Development projects, 333-335 tract labor policies, 157-165; Portugal
Diamond Company of Angola, 275, 320, fears expansion of, in South Africa, 190-
345η 191; in Indian Ocean, 202-204; interest
Dias, Bartolomeu, 9, 25, 52 in Moçambique, 203-207,221; and Trans-
Dias Bayáo, Sisnado, 190 vaal Republic, 206-207; attitude toward
Dias de Carvalho, Henrique Augusto, 199- Portuguese Africa, 207-208; and Por-
200 tuguese claims to Congo, 208-209; at
Diogo, Manicongo, 19, 20-21 Conference of Berlin, 210-212; and rose-
Dominicans, 129; in Moçambique, 47, 85, colored map, 214-221; criticism of Por-
108-112 passim; in Congo kingdom, 114 tugal in 1930's, 340. See also Anglo-
Donatárias, 53-54 Portuguese treaties; Anglo-German trea-
Dondi, Angola, 124 ties
Dongo, region of Angola, 50, 52,63 English Baptist Missionary Society, 123-
Dulles, John Foster, 280 124
Duparquet, Charles, 99, 121 Ensino primàrio elementar, 313
Dutch: attack Moçambique island, 40, 202; Ensino primario rudimentär, 313, 375η
at mouth of Congo, 60; harass Angola Escola Colonial Superior, 246-247, 275
coast, 60; capture Benguela, 62; and Evangelization: in Congo kingdom, 5-6,
West African slave trade, 65, 136; in 1 1 - 1 5 passim, 18, 20, 114-117; in Mo-
Angola, 65-67, 119; treaties with Por- çambique, 46, 106-114, 127-129; in An-
tugal, 70; capture Mina, 135; abolish gola, 52, 53, 70, 114-127, 178-179; sin-
slave trade, 143; at Lourenço Marques, cerity of Portuguese effort, 66; and Re-
205 public's policies, 113, 114, 122; future
Dutch West India Company, 136 course of, 129; baptism of slaves for
 INDEX 383
N e w World, 140; Enes on, 237; Mou- of Berlin, 210-212; and rose-colored
sinho on, 241; under N e w State, 3 ι ο - map, 214-215; designs on Portuguese
ί 12; criticism of, 3J4n. See also Catholic Africa, 222-224
Church; Protestant Missions Ghana, 340
Exploration: of African coasts in 15th Gide, André, 157
and 16th centuries, 7-9, 25-26; of Congo Goa, Portuguese India, 34, 280, 341; emi-
River, 10; in Moçambique, i$oo-iSoo, gration to Moçambique, 81-82; clergy
31, 32, 35-36, 38, 108; in Angola, ; joo- in Moçambique, n o
1800, 50-53 passim, 57-60 passim, 62-63, Gois, Damiäo de, 8
70, 72-73; in Angola, late 19th century, Gold, 24, 30-31,35,38, 44, 135
190, 194, 197-199; and slave trade, 139; Gomes dos Santos, José Antonio, 80, 247
by Livingstone, 175-186 passim·, cam- Gonçalves Cota, José, 300-301
paigns in 19th century, 188-200 passim·, Gorongosa, region of Moçambique, 231
in Congo kingdom, 349η. See also Trans- Gouveia, Francisco de, 21
African crossing Government Council, 286
Governor general, 69, 283-285
Feiner, Rodrigo, 55 Governors' Conference, 283
Fernandes, Antonio, 31 Graça, Joaquim Rodrigues, 194
Ferreira, Francisco de Salles, 262 Gráo-Pará and Maranhio Company, 137
Ferreira do Amarai, Francisco Joaquim, Grey, Sir Edward, 223-224
ij« Guija, Moçambique, 309, 337
Ferreira Pinto, Julio, 266 Guinea Coast, 134-137
First Zambezi Expedition, 181-183, '86 Gungunhana, African chief, 232-233
Fishing industry, 2, 74, 98
Forced labor, see Contract labor Hailey, William Malcolm Hailey, Lord,
Forced Labor Conventions of /55ο and 34*
1946, 317 Hall, Hall, 164
Forjaz, Manuel Pereira, 60 Harris, John, 163
France: at mouth of Congo, 60, 208; at- Henrique, Bishop of Utica, 15, 17-18
tacks Portuguese shipping, 71, 94, 202- Henriques, Rodrigo de Miranda, 68
203; missionaries in Angola, 120-121; Henry the Navigator, 7-9, 53
and slave trade, 136, 143, 147-148; and Hewett, Edward H., 158
jurisdiction over Congo River, 208-211; High schools, in Portuguese Africa, 313
at Conference of Berlin, 2 1 1 - 2 1 3 ; a n d
Hintze Ribeiro, Ernesto Rodolfo, 219
rose-colored map, 214-215
Holy Ghost Congregation, 106, 120-121,
Franciscans, 113, 114, 118
122
Free Methodists, 127-128
Homem, Vasco Fernandes, 37-38
Freire de Andrade, Alfredo Augusto, 169,
Huila plateau, Angola, 72, 98, 100, 101, 227,
232, 235, 254 337
Frere, Sir Henry Barde, 112
Humbe, region of Angola, 227-228
Freyre, Gilberto, 134, 299-300
Hydro-electric projects, 334-335
Gabriel, Edmund, 174, 178 Ibn Batuta, 26
Galhardo, Eduardo Augusto Rodrigues, Ibo, Moçambique, 147
232-233 Ile de France (Mauritius), 202, 203
Galváo, Henrique, 327 Immigration, Portuguese, to African col-
Gama, Vasco da, 9, 12, 25-26, 104 onies, 237, 265-266, 335-336, 338-339
Gambia, 8, 136 India, 24,41, 43, 48, 341
Gamitto, Antonio Pedroso, 192 Indian Ocean, 2, 24, 27,41, 202-203
Garcia Afonso II, Manicongo, 67 Indians, 44, 81-82, 237
Gaza, region of Moçambique, 220, 231, Indígena, 290-291
232-233 Indigenous Workers Convention of 1936,
Generation of 189;, 232, 235-241 3'7
Geographical Society of Lisbon, 196-197 Industry, in Portuguese Africa, 2-3, 74,
German East Africa, 157 346η. See also Fishing industry; Oil;
Germany, 131, 219, 228; and Conference Diamond Company of Angola
384 INDEX

Inhambane, Moçambique, 36, 127 Legislative Council, 285-286

Inhamissa, Moçambique, 309 Leite de Magalhâes, Antonio, 272
Inquisition, the, 64 Lembombo Mission, 129
Institute of Tropical Medicine, 316 Leopold II, King of Belgium, 200, 2 1 1 , 213
Intendencia, 282 Libertos, 77. ' í 8
International Association of the Congo, Liga Africana, 305, 374η
190, 209, 211, 212, 213. See also Belgian Lima, J . J . Lopes de, 72
Congo; Congo Free State Limpopo River, 309
Ivens, Roberto, 98, 197-199 Limpopo Valley Immigration Project, 334
Linschoten, Jan Huyghen van, 40
Jagas, African horde, 21, 62, 64 Liny and, Northern Rhodesia, 176, 180
Jansen, Ernest D., 339 Lisbon, Portugal, 133-134
Jesuits, 129, 141; in Congo kingdom, 20, Livingstone, David, 24, 63, 78, 120, 122,
114; in Angola, 52-53, 55, 58, 69, 1 1 8 - 148, 193; on Portuguese presence in
120, 124; aid G o v . Cerveira Pereira, 61; Africa, 149, 150, 180-181, 184, 185, 186;
in Moçambique, 107, 108, m , 1 1 3 ; cen- in Angola, 174-175, 177-179; effects of
ter of controversy, 118; as slave traders, travels on Portuguese Africa, 175, 186-
118; as teachers, 118, 119, 120, 257; ex- 187; significance of, 175-176; early jour-
pelled from Luanda, 120; work com- neys, 176; and slave trade, 176, 182, 185;
mended by Livingstone, 179 and trans-African crossing, 179-180; in
Jinga, African queen, 64, 66, 70 Moçambique, 180-181, 183-186; imperi-
Joäo I, King of Portugal, 7 alistic attitude, 183-184; and priority of
Joäo II, King of Portugal, 8, 9 - 1 1 , 25 exploration, 184, 189-190; Portuguese
Joäo III, King of Portugal, 17, 19, 35, 52 answer to, 187-188
Joäo I V , King of Portugal, 43, 67, 1 1 5 - 1 1 6 Lobengula, African king, 216, 217
Joäo Baptista (pombeiro), 177, 188-189, Lobito, Angola, 3, 223, 306, 335
191-192 London Daily Express, 340-341
Johnston, Sir Harry H., 101, 125-126, 213, Longa River, 51
218 Lopes, Alvaro, 16
Johnston, James, 125-126 Lopes, Duarte, 22, 349η
Judicial system, in Portuguese Africa, Lourenço Marques, Moçambique: female
population in 1890's, 81; early history,
300-303
95; attacked by French pirates, 203;
Junod, Henri, 128
Portuguese occupation, 205; British sail-
ors land, 222; attacked by Landin tribes-
Kasai River, 2, 213
men, 232; development of, 266; expan-
Katanga, district of Belgian Congo, 213
sion of port, 334
Keith, Arthur, 224
Lourenço Marques-Transvaal Railway,
Kilwa, Arab city-state, 25, 26, 28
Kingsley, Mary, 96, 164, 364η 222, 263
Kirk, Sir John, 183 Luabo Company, 92
Luanda, Angola, 3, 49, 64, 72, 266, 290, 338,
Labor, see Contract labor 339; site of Congo kingdom's cowrie-
Lacerda de Almeida, Francisco, 94, 145, shell industry, 50; founding of, 55; in
184, 189, 190-191 1590's, 58; falls to Dutch, 65; recapture
Lacerda, José de, 187-188 from Dutch, 67; splendor of, 71; decay
Lago, Baltasar Manuel Pereira do, 93 of, 73; revolt in, 75; in 1800's, 96, 179;
Lake Dilolo, 176 mission work in, 118, 119; slave port,
Lake Mweru, 191, 192 138, 139; slums, 297, 306; segregation in
Lake Nyasa, 148, 192, 216 municipal hospital, 316; expansion of
Land companies, 90-93, 237, 353η. See also port, 334
Moçambique Company; Niassa Com- Luangwa River, 191
pany; Zambézia Company Luanza, Moçambique, 39
Land policies, 53-54, 82-93, 307-308 Lucala River, 63
Landis, Elizabeth, 327 Lugard, Sir Frederick John Dealtry, 86,
League of Nations, 340 145
Leaiui, Northern Rhodesia, 193, 198 Luis Filipe, Prince of Portugal, 240, 246
 INDEX 3»5
Lunda, region of Angola, 2 and colonial policy, 74, 297-298; Living-
Lundi River, 31 stone on, 178
Lusíadas, Os, 270-271 Mission Accord of 1940, 310
Mission Philafricaine, 126
Macequece, Moçambique, 231 Missionary Statute of 1941, 310, 311
Machado, Antonio, 189 .Missions, see Catholic Church; Evangeli-
MacLeod, Lyons, 95, 145 zation; names of Catholic orders; Prot-
MacMahon, Marie Patrice Maurice de, estant missions
206, 207 Moçambique: population statistics, 1, 336,
Macmillan, William Miller, 96 377η; boundaries, 2, 27, 214, 220-221;
MacMurdo, Edward, 222 economy, 2-3, 42-45, 204, 264; general
Macua, African people, 234 description, 2, 24-25, 39, 43, 88-89, 23°>
Madeira, Diogo Simóes, 41 240-241, 266; political and commercial
Makalanga, African people, 31-32, 41, 46 orientation, 24-25; occupation, 24-25,
Makololo, African people, 218 30, 36-38, 46, 85, 93, 230-234; penetration
Malan, Daniel, 278 of interior, 31, 32, 35-38, 190; adminis-
Malange, Angola, 2, 50, 125 tration, 37, 40-41, 48, 93, 235-241, 248,
Malindi (Arab city-state), 26-29 passim, 281-282; decline in 18th and 19th cen-
3 ' , 35 turies, 48, 93-94; Indian colonists and
Manchester Guardian, 327 traders in, 44, 81, 377η; effect of land
Manica, 24, 30, 35, 38, 220 companies on, 93; criticized by English
Manicongo, dynastic chief of Congo, ιο- humanitarians, 148-150; and Livingstone,
ίι
180-181; foreign intervention, 202-208,
Manjacaze, Moçambique, 232-233 214-224; modern development, 334. See
Manuel I, King of Portugal, 12-18 passivi, also Education; Contract labor; Slave
25, 50, 138; regimentó of 1512, 14-16 trade
Manuza, Makalanga chief, 46 Moçambique, island of, 27, 29, 30, 37, 38,
Marques, Lourenço, 36 42, 45, 290; arrival of da Gama, 25-26;
Marracuene, Moçambique, 232 capital of Portuguese East Africa, 32-
Martins Afonso, Α., 283 34; attacked by Dutch, 40; prosperity
Mashonaland, 30, 35-36, 216-219 passim of, 43; in 1800, 94
Massangano, Angola, 56, 65-66, 96, 179 Moçambique Company, 87, 90-92, 128, 222
Massangano, Moçambique, 88-89 Moçâmedes, Angola, 3, 72-73, 98-99, 335
Massano de Amorim, Pedro Francisco, Moçâmedes, José de Almeida e Vascon-
229, 234, 235 celos, Baräo de, 72, 98
Massapa, Moçambique, 35, 39 Moffat, J. S., 217
Matabeleland, 190, 216, 219 Mogadishu (Arab city-state), 26, 29
Mataka, chief of Yao people, 234 Mombasa (Arab city-state), 26-29 passim,
Matamba, region of Angola, 50, 63, 70 48
Maurits, Johan, 65 Mondaros, Francisco de, 37, 38, 108
Mbanza (Sâo Salvador), 10, ir, 16 Môngua, Angola, 228
Medical services, in Portuguese Africa, Monomotapa, dynastic chief of Maka-
126-129, 306—307, 316-317 langa, 32, 41, 107, 109
Melo, Antonio de, 97 Monteiro, Armindo, 250, 269, 277, 279,
Melo, Fernäo de, 13, 16, 136 33°, 3 3 6
Melo e Castro, Francisco de, 48 Monteiro, José Correia, 192
Melo e Castro, Martinho de, 93-94 Moreira, Eduardo, 216
Mendes Correia, Antonio, 172-173, 276 Mount Darwin, 32
Menezes, Pedro de, 65-66 Mousinho de Albuquerque, Joaquim Au-
Methodist Board of Foreign Missions, 123, gusto: and Liberals, 76; on Indian popu-
125, 127-128 lation in Moçambique, 81; on prazo sys-
Mineral deposits: in Angola, 2, 60-61, 262, tem, 86; on missionaries, 105, 128; on
346η; in Congo kingdom, 21; in Mo- occupation of Moçambique, 230; and
çambique, 2, 30-31, 41-42, 346η wars of occupation, 233; personality and
Miranda, Joäo de, 116-117 life, 239-240; Moçambique, 240-241; on
Miscegenation, 34, 84, 97-98, 290, 373η; colonial affairs, 241; on contract labor,
386 INDEX
254; on sale of wine to Africans, 256; Palmerston, Henry John Temple, 3rd
on education for African, 258 Viscount, 144
Moxico, region of Angola, 229-230 Pan-Lusitanianism, 271-272
Mundo portugués, O, 273, 276 Papal Concordat of May 7,1940, 310
Mutianvua, chief of Lunda, 199 Parks, Brian, 275, 326-327
Muxima, Angola, 58-J9 Passbook, 295, 303, 304, 320
Patta Island, 26, 27
Nacala, Moçambique, 3, 334 Pedro I, Manicongo, 19
Napoleon I, 203 Pedro V , King of Portugal, 149
Napoleon III, 148 Pemba Island, 26, 29
Natal, Union of South Africa, 169 Penal code, 302
Naulila, Angola, 228 Penal colonies, 99
Ndunduma, African chief, 194 Pereira, Manuel Cerveira, 59, 60-61, 81
Nevinson, Henry W., 100, ijo, 159-161, Pereira, Nuno Alvares, 41-42
165, 266 Pereira, Pedro Caetano, 88
Ngola, dynastic title of Angola chief, 50 Pereira de Eça, Antonio Julio da Costa,
Niassa, region of Moçambique, 2, 122, 199, 228
2 34 Pernambuco, Brazil, 98
Niassa Company, 92, 170 Philip II, King of Spain and Portugal, 21,
Noqui, Angola, 212 40
North Angola Mission, 126 Philip III, King of Spain and Portugal, 41,
Northern Rhodesia, 171, 221, 325, 339-340 42
Norton de Matos, José Mendes Ribeiro, Pinda, Congo kingdom, 11, 50, 51, 60
165—166, 249-257 passim, 264 Pinheiro Chagas, Manuel Joaquim, 199
Nova Lisboa, Angola, 228, 229 Pires, Gonçalo, 17
Nováis, Paulo Dias de, 49, 58, 83, 118; ex- Pombal, Sebastiâo José de Carvalho e
peditions to Angola, 52, 54-56 Mello, Marques de, 71, 72
Nunes, Manuel, 180 Pombeiros, 64, 139, 142, 177, 191, 192, 193
Nunes de Oliveira, Julio, 300 Population, of Portuguese Africa, ι, 266,
Nyasaland, 217, 218 335-336
Nzinga-a-Cuum, Manicongo, 10, n , 12 Porto Alexandre, Angola, 98
Nzinga Mbandi, Ngola, 63 Porto Amboim, Angola, 60
Porto Amélia, Moçambique, 92
Oil, 2, 345η Portugal: colonial policies of Liberal gov-
Oliveira Martins, J . P., 106, 216, 226 ernments, 75, 77, 292-293; colonial tra-
Oliveira Santos, F. M., 167-168 ditions and modern policies, 78, 103-104,
Organic Charter of 1933, 280 216, 225, 260-261; fear of foreign influ-
Organic Law of 1955, 280, 296 ence in colonies, 81, 99-100, 123-124,
Ornelas, Aires de, 162, 232, 235, 243-244 127, 311-312, 333; contributions as col-
Orta, Garcia da, 189 onizer, 102; church and state, 105, 113-
Overseas Council, 283 114; at Conference of Berlin, 202, 210-
Overseas Economic Conference, 283 213; claims to Congo, 208, 209, 212-213;
Overseas Ministry, 283 and desire for transcontinental African
Overseas Mission College, 112-113, 121 empire, 213-221; economic crisis of
Ovimbundu, African people, 124, 191, 192- i89o's, 222-223; a n d neighbors in Africa,
193 224, 339-340; renewed interest in Africa,
Owen, William F., 96, 149, 204-206 246; native policy under the Republic,
253-260; future of, in Africa, 342-343
Pacheco, Manuel, 17, 18-19, 20, 50-51 N e w State: colonial philosophy, 268-
Paiva, Afonso de, 25 273; methods of publicizing African
Paiva, Artur de, 100, 227, 228 colonies, 273, 275, 276, 277; and creation
Paiva Couceiro, Henrique Mitchell de, of a colonial elite, 275-276; evolution of
162, 194, 227, 229, 235; colonial philoso- native policy, 289-293; and contract la-
phy, 244; and Angola administration, bor, 317-328; economic policies, 329-
249; and critics, 251; and rum trade, 333; development plans, 333-335; foreign
256-257 relations over colonies, 339-342
 INDEX 387
Native Statutes: of 1926, 293; of ¡954, Sá da Bandeira, Bernardo de Sá Nogueira
296, 319; of /pjj, 307 de Figueiredo, Marqués de: and colonial
Portuguese East Africa, see Moçambique reforms, 76, 94, 235; abolishes slavery,
Portuguese National Development Plan, 77, 151; abolishes slave trade, 144
334-335 Sá e Benavides, Salvador Correla de, 66-
Portuguese West Africa, see Angola 68, 189
Prazo system, 24, 43; history of, 82-90; Saint Francis Xavier, 107
and slavery, 141, 146; Enes on, 237 Saint Joseph of Cluny, sisters of, 122
Prester John, 5, 9, 11, i j , 22 Salazar, Antonio Oliveira de, 269-270, 341,
Propaganda Fide, 120 370η; on national solidarity, 272; author
Protestant missions: in Angola, 106, 122, of Colonial A c t of 1930, 278-279; on
123-127; in Moçambique, 122, 123, 127- agrarian society in African colonies,
129; and Portuguese government, 122- 308, 337
123, 3 1 1 - 3 1 2 ; statistics, 124, 312; and Saldanha, Aires de, 189
contract labor, 127, 163; and the Ross Saldanha, Eduardo d'Almeida, 252
controversy, 166-168; Mousinho on, 241 Saldanha da Gama, Antonio de, 74
Provincia de Angola, A, 274 Salisbury, Robert A . T . Gascoyne-Cecil,
Provincial governor, 286 3rd Marquess of, 215-218 passim, 220
Provincial secretary, 285 Salt, Henry, 8i
Pyrard de Laval, François, 97 Sampaio e Melo, Lopo Vaz de, 261
Santa Comba, José Maria de Sousa Ma-
Quelimane, Moçambique, 36, 180, 183; in cedo Almeida e Vasconcelos, Barâo de,
1800's, 94; as slave port, 147, 148, 185 75
Quessua, Angola, 125 Santiago, Cape Verdes, 134-135
Quicombo, Angola, 66 Santo Antonio do Zaire, Angola, 11
Quionga Bay, 222 Santos, Joâo dos, 38-39, 87, 189
Sâo Joâo de Deus, order of, 110
Race relations: in Congo kingdom, 22; in Sáo Jorge da Mina, slave port, 135
Moçambique, 34; in Angola, 178; in Sâo Miguel fortress, Luanda, 60, 66-67,
Portuguese Africa today, 298-299, 373η; Sáo Salvador, capital of Congo kingdom,
traditional Portuguese tolerance disap- 20, 21, 22, 115, 121
pearing, 298-299, 315, 316, 338, 374η; and Sáo Sebastiäo fortress, Moçambique Is-
future of Portuguese Africa, 342-343 land, 35, 40
Railroads, 222, 263, 334, 335, 348η Sáo Tomé, 51, 80; a slave center, 12; re-
Rankin, Daniel, 150 lations with Congo kingdom, 12, 13, 20,
Ravenstein, E. G., 68 21; slave trade with Congo kingdom,
Reade, Winwood, 96, 152 15, 16, 19-20, 138; becomes crown col-
Régulos, 287-288 ony, 17; and Angola slave trade, 50, 5 1 -
Reis, Fernanda, 274 52, 138; captured by Dutch, 65; early
Réunion Island, 147, 202-203 history, 135-136; contract labor scandal,
Rhodes, Cecil John, 122, 214-220 passim, 157-165^
222, 236 Sâo Tomé Planters Association, 161-162
Rhodesian Native Labour Bureau, 171 Save River, 31, 32, 35
Ribeiro da Rocha, Manuel, 142-143 Sebastiäo, King of Portugal, 21, 35, 36
Richards, E. H., 127 Selous, Frederick, 150
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 74 Sena, Moçambique, 32, 37, 40-45 passim,
Rivers of Sena, region of Moçambique, 48; early history, 35; in 1590's, 39
82, 83 Sena Sugar Estates, 92, 169
Roçadas, José Augusto Alves, 228 Senegal, 136
Rosa, José da, 189 Sernache do Bonjardim, Portugal, 1 1 2 - 1 1 3
Rose-colored map, 213-221 Serpa Pinto, Alexandre Alberto da Rocha
Ross, Edward Alsworth, 160, 166-168, 169, de, 197-199, 218
252 Serráo, Luís, 56
Rovuma River, 28, 234 Seventh Day Adventists, 126
Rowley, Henry, 149-150 Shire highlands, 214, 216, 219
Rubber, 124, 154-155 Shire vaUey incident, 218
 388 INDEX

Si card, Tito, ι8ο Tax policies, 59, 63, 64, 263, 332
Silva, Simâo da, 14-16 Taylor, William, Bishop, 125, 126
Silva Correia, Elias da, 73 Tembe River, 205
Silva Cunha, J . M. da, 276, 293, 301, 302 Temporary Slaving Commission of the
Silva Porto, Antonio da, 36, 99, 152, 197, League of Nations, 166
198; attempts trans-African crossing, Tete, Moçambique, 32, 38, 41, 43, 45, 48,
176-177; biographical sketch, 192-194 180, 338; founding of, 35; description,
Silva Rego, Antonio da, 275 39; in middle 1800's, 88-89; slave center,
Silveira, Gonçalo da, 36, 53, 107-108 184
Silver, 38, 41, 51, 57, 59 Torres Texugo, F., 82
Simóes Vaz, Manuel, 279 Trade and commerce: in Angola, 3, 77,
Slave trade: beginnings of Portuguese, 8; 179, 192-193; in Moçambique, 3, 30-31,
Portuguese defense of, 8; in Congo king- 33-34; in Congo kingdom, 15; free
dom, 15, 17, 23, 137-138, 142; in Moçam- trade, 76, 181, 209, 210; and slave trade,
bique, 24, 45, 94, 145-148, 181, 184-185; 132, 139; leading exports and imports in
in Angola, 24, 50, 51-52, 58, 70, 77, 137, Portuguese Africa, 346η
138-142, 177-178; with Spanish colonies, Trans-African crossing: effort of Rebelo
59, 67; with Brazil, 66, 67; criticism of, de Aragäo, 59-60, 189; by Silva Porto's
71, 73, 142-143; abolition of, 76, 77, 94, bearers, 176, 193; by Livingstone, 179-
143-145; with French islands, 94; effects 180; by the pombeiros Joáo Baptista and
on evangelization, 114, 117; in 15th cen- Amaro José, 177, 187, 188; goal of Por-
tury, 132; methods, 135, 139-140; clan- tuguese policy, 188; summary of Portu-
destine commerce, 133, 135; on Guinea guese attempts, 188-189; by Swahili
coast, 134-137; statistics, 136, 137, 138, traders, 193; by Serpa Pinto, 197-198;
142, 146; Livingstone on, 177-178, 181, by Capelo and Ivens, 198-199
182 Transportation, 3, 248, 262,334, 335
Slavery: in Angola, 24, 141; in Moçam- Transvaal Republic, 95, 170-173, 207, 222.
bique, 46, 94, 141, 146; abolition, 77, 94, See also Union of South Africa
151-152; and prazo system, 84, 141; for- Trappists, 113
eign criticism, 130, 131—132; in Portugal, Treaty of St. Germaine-en-Laye, 123
133-134 Treaty of Tordesillas, 133
Société du Madal, 92 Tucker, John, 124
Sofala, Moçambique, 27-28, 31-35 passim, Tungue Bay, 363η
43, 48; early history, 30; decline, 38-39;
compared with Benguela, 62; in 1800, 94 Umtasa, chief of Manica, 220, 231
Sousa, Fernäo de, 61-62 Union of South Africa, 79, 82, 131, 157;
Sousa, Gonçalo de, 1 1 , 12 and Moçambique labor, 170-173; aspira-
Sousa, Manuel Antonio de (Gouveia), tions similar to those of Portuguese,
220, 231 278; relations with Portugal, 339-340.
Sousa, Rui de, 11 See also Transvaal Republic
Sousa Coutinho, Francisco de, 71-72, 73, Union of South Africa-Moçambique Con-
97-98, 143 vention, 170, 171-172
Sousa Coutinho, Rodrigo de, 191 United Church of Canada, 123, 124
South Africa General Mission, 126 United Nations, 280, 305, 327, 341
Southern Rhodesia, 171, 221, 325, 339-340 Universities' Mission, First, 122, 128, 183
Soveral, Diogo do, 20, 51
Spain, 133, 143
Vasconcelos, Luís Mendes de, 63
Stanley, Sir Henry M., 175, 197, 208- Vasconcelos e Cime, Manuel Joaquim, 85
209 Vaz, Jorge, 20
Steele, A. T., 275, 326 Verhoeff, Pieter, 40
Swahili traders, 27, 107, 193 Viana Rebelo, Sá, 322
Swan, Charles, 163 Victoria Falls, 187
Swiss Mission, 128, 129 Vidal, Bernardo, 75, 76
Vieira Machado, Francisco, 273, 318
Tariffs, 262-263, 33'-332 Vieira Machado Agricultural School, 315
Távora, Francisco de, 68 Vilhena, Ernesto de, 87-88
 INDEX 389

Villas Boas Truáo, Antonio Norberto de passim, 189; Portuguese authority on,
Barbosa de, 8j 88-89; slavery on, 150; Livingstone on,
Vredenberg, W . , Commissioner, 158 181, 183-186; foreign shipping barred,
217
Walsh, Alexander, 198 Zambezi, W a r s of, 88-89
W e l c h , Sidney, 272 Zambézia, region of Moçambique, 34;
Welwitsch, Friedrich, 180, 194-195 trade in, 33; in 1590's, 38-39; free trade
Wesleyan Missionary Society, 128 area, 43; dynastic wars in, 46-47; Indian
White Fathers, 113 population in, 81-82; prazo system in,
Williams, Sir Robert, 347n-348n 87; scene of mission efforts, 108; in mid-
Witwatersrand Native Labour Associa- 1800's, 180-181; limits of, 182; occupa-
tion ( W N L A ) , 170—171, 172, 325 tion of, 233
W o r l d W a r I, 255, 366n-3Ó7n Zambézia Company, 87, 92, 234
W o r l d W a r II, 378η Zanzibar, 26, 29, 147, 363η
Zimba, East African people, 29, 39, 109
Yao, African people, 234 Zimbabwe (African city), 35, 107
Zumbo, Moçambique, 48, 184, 218
Zambezi River, 2, 30, 31, 32, 35, 37-48 Zulus, African people, 205