Chapter IX: Front Matter (9)

In the Cape Colony, the problem presents itself in a different form. In its origin--as everybody ought to know, but does not--it is not an English, but a Dutch Colony, and the Boers have never been disposed to render to English sovereignty more than a passive obedience. The chief facts in their recent history are but too easily recalled. When the Transvaal was annexed by Sir Theophilus Shepstone, the people at first submitted quietly; but the new Commissioner aroused first their fears, and then their anger, by various encroachments which were regarded as invasions of their rights. The Boers took up arms, English troops were despatched from the Cape to suppress the rising, and these troops were beaten at Lang's Neck. General Colley, who then commanded the forces at Natal, hastened forward with more troops in the hope of retrieving this disaster, but was himself beaten at Ingogo. He then, without waiting for the reinforcements which were on their way to him, took up a new position, was attacked by the Boers, and defeated in the memorable disaster at Majuba Hill. Mr. Gladstone forthwith surrendered everything, and since that time the Boers have been, as a matter of course, more and more antagonistic to the English power. 'They came to Africa,' says Baron Huebner, 'in 1652, with the intention of remaining there, and they do remain there. The future and Africa belong to them, unless they are expelled by a stronger power, the blacks or the English. They accept the struggle with the blacks, and they avoid all contact with the English.' Mr. Froude takes now, as he has always taken, a very strong view of our own responsibility for all the difficulties which have arisen with the Boers. We have, he says with some bitterness, 'treated them unfairly as well as unwisely, and we never forgive those whom we have injured.' The story is long, and it has been treated more than once, and we believe with strict fairness and impartiality, in these pages. Mr. Froude himself does not deny, that the effect of the surrender after Majuba Hill 'was to diminish infallibly the influence of England in South Africa, and to elate and encourage the growing party whose hope was and is to see it vanish altogether.' The work was not half done. We insisted upon a new Treaty, which was immediately broken by the Boers. Mr. Froude once more recommends us to 'leave the Cape alone'--not to get out of it, but to allow the Boers to manage their affairs in their own way. 'Our interferences,' he tells us, 'have been dictated by the highest motives; but experience has told us, and ought to have taught us, that in what we have done or tried to do, we have aggravated every evil which we most desired to prevent. We have conciliated neither person nor party.'

Baron Huebner arrived at his conclusions by a totally different road from that pursued by Mr. Froude, but the burden of his story is much the same. It is the indecision of the Central Government, the uncertainty in which the Colony is always kept as to what will happen to them next, which causes nearly all the mischief. We have treated the Cape Colony as we have treated Ireland, and with every prospect of bringing about the same results. First 'coercion,' then abject surrender, then coercion again--'a process,' as Mr. Froude justly remarks, 'which drives nations mad, as it drives children, yet is inevitable in every dependency belonging to us which is not entirely servile, so long as it lies at the will and mercy of so uncertain a body as the British Parliament.' Baron Huebner, who stands beyond the influence of our party politics, tells us the same thing in other words. We want a policy, he says, in effect, which shall be permanent in its application, and therefore not affected by changes in Ministries. The fact is that we want such a policy for many parts of our Empire besides South Africa, and we are likely to want it. With Parliaments elected at short and frequent intervals, and depending largely on shifting caprices, there is not likely to be any fixed principle in dealing with political problems arising either at our own doors or thousands of miles away.

There is one question in which all the colonists take a deep interest, and that is the condition and prospects of our trade. The Colonies are now our best customers, and we sincerely hope they will continue to be so, for with them we may possibly get, even yet, something like Free Trade, whereas no chance of securing even an approach to it can be looked for in the rest of the world. The Colonies will always raise at the Custom House the greater part of the money they want for the expenses of internal government, but they may be induced to offer England more favourable terms than other nations receive. In Australia, as elsewhere, it begins to be doubted whether 'England can trust entirely to Free Trade and competition to keep the place she has hitherto held.' If all our Colonies were bound with us in one commercial federation, we could make sure of Free Trade over a large part of the world's surface. 'We should have purchasers for our goods,' remarks Mr. Froude, 'from whom we should fear no rivalry; we should turn in upon them the tide of our emigrants which now flows away.' But at present, and with the fiscal system of 1846 still regarded as sacred and inviolable, nothing can be done. When we are prepared to acknowledge that the world has moved since 1846, and that we must move with it, there may be a possibility of widening the field of our commerce--unless, indeed, we delay too long. Public opinion in England is beginning to stir upon the subject. The demand for a great and radical change will come, when it does come, from the working men, and they are already showing signs of deep interest in a matter which concerns the very means of their livelihood. They are in advance of Parliament and Ministries on this subject. Mr. Froude is well within bounds in asserting that 'those among us who have disbelieved all along that a great nation can venture its whole fortunes safely on the power of underselling its neighbours in calicoes and iron-work, no longer address a public opinion entirely cold.' What, perhaps, has tended as much as anything else to open our eyes is the discovery, that other nations begin to be able to undersell us, not only in foreign markets, but even in our own--here in England, at Sheffield, Birmingham, and Manchester. Carlyle usually defined the Free Trade theory as the system of 'cheap and nasty.' As we have never had Free Trade, and therefore as it has never been properly tested, it is impossible to say what effects it was capable of producing, properly worked out. The great fact which confronts us to-day is that no other nation in the world, and not even our own colonists, will have anything whatever to do with it on any terms. This fact, at least, the English workingmen are beginning to see and to understand, and results will flow from it at present not anticipated by 'statesmen,' who know little or nothing about the hard matter-of-fact conditions under which trade is carried on, and who are assiduously primed by underlings with statistics which they repeat by rote, and as to the real value or signification of which they are completely and hopelessly in the dark.

According to Baron Huebner, the Australian colonists have not abandoned the hope of forming a customs' union with the mother country, and they are far from regarding the proposals for giving them representation in Parliament with the indifference which Mr. Froude imagines that he detected. No one yet seems to have made even an effort to settle the details of a scheme by which a navy could be kept up for the defence of the Colonies, and an Imperial Zollverein formed between England and her foreign possessions. But the 'advanced men,' according to Baron Huebner, feel convinced that the idea can be carried out, and they are desirous of finding, as a preliminary, direct representation in some form at Westminster. The growth of this idea, says Baron Huebner, 'of a grand confederation, which would completely revolutionize Old England, or rather, which would create a new England by the handiwork and after the pattern of her children in Australia--the growth of this idea among the masses is, to my mind, an indubitable fact.' More improbable things have happened than that England, weakened at home by the selfish ambition of her statesmen, and by the frenzy of party warfare, may be saved by the patriotism of her descendants in other lands. The first opportunity which the colonists have had of evincing their determination to stand by the old country was promptly taken advantage of, and with a heartiness of spirit that we hope is not yet forgotten, quickly as all events, great or small, are nowadays crammed into 'the wallet of oblivion.' The offers of colonial aid during the Egyptian war roused a feeling throughout the Colonies which astonished all Europe, and probably took many of the colonists themselves by surprise. 'When English interests were in peril,' Mr. Froude tells us, 'I found the Australians, not cool and indifferent, but _ipsis Anglicis Angliciores_, as if at the circumference the patriotic spirit was more alive than at the centre. There was a general sense that our affairs were being strangely mismanaged.' The men who think and talk like this are not struggling for place and power amid the demoralizing surroundings of modern Parliamentary life. They are able to take a cool and dispassionate view of us and our affairs, and they begin to think that public life has degenerated into a mere scramble for the spoils of office. Their indignation, when Gordon was deserted by the Government which he had tried to serve, was far greater than we seem to have had any experience of amongst ourselves. They looked upon him as 'the last of the race of heroes who had won for England her proud position among the nations; he had been left to neglect and death, and the national glory was sullied.' They volunteered to come over and help us fight our battles. The Colonial Office, then under Lord Derby, was for a few days disposed to turn the cold shoulder to these efforts of assistance. But the feeling, which had been aroused in the country by the first announcements in the newspapers, was too deep to be mistaken. It broke through the ice in which the Colonial Office is usually imbedded, and compelled Lord Derby to make a warm and grateful response to the Colonies. In reality, the people there are, as many travellers besides Mr. Froude have remarked, more English than the English themselves in their sensitiveness as regards the national honour. We talk very coolly here of 'standing aside,' of 'having seen our best days,' and of giving up one part of our inheritance after another; but the Englishmen abroad are animated by very different sentiments. The love of the 'old home' is strong in them, even though they may have been born in the Colonies. It shows itself in a thousand different ways. At Ballarat, Mr. Froude seems to have been struck with a garden which might have been attached to an old cottage in Surrey or Devonshire. There were cabbage-roses, pinks, columbines, sweet-williams, laburnums, and honey-suckle--all prized because they were the flowers of Old England. The people everywhere speak the language with remarkable purity. The aspirate is rarely misplaced, unless by a recent immigrant. The misuse of the aspirate is, indeed, a peculiar part of the birthright of an Englishman. No one ever yet heard it from the poorest or most illiterate class in the United States. In Australia, says Mr. Froude, 'no provincialism has yet developed itself. The tone is soft, the language good.' The young people looked fresh and healthy, 'not lean and sun-dried, but fair, fleshy, lymphatic.' Mr. Froude could not see any difference between his countrymen at home and those who had settled down in this new and wider field of industry. 'The leaves that grow on one branch of an oak are not more like the leaves that grow upon another, than the Australian swarm is like the hive it sprung from.' Mr. Service, the Prime Minister of Victoria, fully shares the English predilections of his fellow colonists, but he appears to feel some irritation at the tone so frequently adopted by the Liberal press and party in this country, and emphatically urged in their day by Mr. Cobden and Mr. Bright. This tone is founded upon the argument, 'The Colonies are of no use to us; therefore the sooner they take themselves off the better.' If some leaders and members of the Liberal party had their way, we should be without a colony in the world, without India, and with Ireland close to our own doors a hostile and an independent Foreign Power.

With regard to India it is to Baron Huebner's records of a very remarkable journey, that we must turn for the notes of the most recent traveller. The work is not so exhaustive, especially as regards the Native States, as M. Rousselet's 'L'Inde des Rajahs,' but it is eminently readable and lively, and the author gives abundant evidence, that he took with him everywhere an earnest desire to arrive at the truth, and a determination to form his conclusions with strict impartiality. It is evident that in India he soon began to feel the influence of that peculiar spell which the country exercises over most persons of a susceptible or imaginative temperament. 'India,' he says, 'has always fascinated me, 'and few who have travelled there will not be ready to make the same confession. It is much to be hoped that the Radicals will be induced to listen to Baron Huebner's testimony concerning the way in which we carry on government in our great Eastern dependency. Nowhere, strange as it may appear, but in our own country is English rule misunderstood or misrepresented. Injustice is systematically done to the purest, most conscientious, and most industrious Civil Service in the whole world; and our countrymen who are spending the best part of their lives in the effort to promote the welfare and prosperity of India, are too often held up to opprobrium as examples of merciless tyrants, whose only object is to grind down the natives into the dust. We seem to be losing many of the characteristics which formerly distinguished us in the world, but there is one which marks us out very plainly from all other nations--the habit of disparaging our own achievements and vilifying our own reputation. We do not find the Germans pertinaciously seeking to bring into disrepute the efforts now being made to extend their colonial possessions; the Americans have a motto, upon which they invariably act: 'our country--right or wrong.' This may be carrying a good principle a little too far; but it is better than the course we pursue, of striving with might and main to dishonour our past, and to place our country in the most contemptible light before the rest of mankind. Instead of our having any reason to be ashamed of what we have done in and for India, we have every cause to be proud of it; and, if English people had an adequate knowledge of that work, and were in a position to exercise their common-sense on the question, untrammelled by agitators and demagogues, they would acknowledge gladly that they were heartily proud of it. We believe that the great body of Englishmen in India are honestly endeavouring to do their duty, according to the measure of their abilities, and that, if any event occurred to cause our removal from the country, it would inflict the direst forms of suffering and calamity upon the people. It is important to hear what a foreigner, not unduly prejudiced in our favour, has to say upon these points. First, then, in reference to the men who are engaged in the practical work of government--the Civil Service--Baron Huebner says:--

'I have met everywhere men devoted to their service, working
from morning till evening, and finding time, notwithstanding
the mutiplicity of their daily labours, to occupy themselves
with literature and serious studies. India is governed
bureaucratically, but this bureaucracy differs in more than
one respect from ours in Europe. To the public servant in
Europe one day is like another; some great revolution, some
European war, is needed to disturb the placid monotony of
his existence. In India it is not so. The variety of his
duties enlarges and fashions the mind of the Anglo-Indian
official; and the dangers to which he is occasionally
exposed serve to strengthen and give energy to his
character. He learns to take large views and to work at his
desk while the ground is trembling beneath his feet. I do
not think I am guilty of exaggeration in declaring that
there is not a bureaucracy in the world better educated,
better trained to business, more thoroughly stamped with the
qualities which make a statesman; and, what none will
dispute, more pure and upright than that which administers
the government of India.'

Of late years, as everybody is aware, a demand has sprung up for 'local self-government' in India--a demand not originating with natives themselves, but with the sentimentalists and philosophers who are doing their best and their worst to take all the manliness out of the English character. Lord Ripon was the mechanical mouthpiece of this sect, and there can be no doubt whatever that no Governor-General or Viceroy of India ever did so much harm in so short space of time. He and his school tried their utmost to persuade the natives that what they want is 'Home Rule'--that panacea for all the evils of modern life which is likely to entail so many new burdens and trials upon us. The natives of India never suspected, until Lord Ripon strove to impress it upon them, that Home Rule is indispensable to their happiness. They are perfectly well aware that if our hold upon the country is ever relaxed, there will be nothing but chaos all through the land,--internecine wars, rebellions, and massacres, such as marked the history of India until our rule became well established there. Lord Ripon closed his eyes to all this--_doctrinaire_ at heart, he could see nothing but his own crotchets. The native, he declared, must have local self-government. But Baron Huebner found that the people did not understand or desire this much vaunted contrivance. The native, he says, 'refuses to be elected by his equals. He wishes to be chosen by his superiors, and his superiors are the English officials, represented in this case by the district officer or magistrate. In the North-Western Provinces, this opposition was so strong that the Supreme Government have been obliged, much against their own views, to give to the Governor of those Provinces the power of constituting the municipalities.' The sentimentalists may try to develop the 'native mind' as they please, but they will never persuade Hindoos or Mussulmans to trust their own countrymen as they trust us. We have a reputation among them for fairness and for justice which no native would ever aim to deserve, although he is not incapable of understanding and admiring it. An East Indian of any race or religion will never speak the truth if he can possibly help himself, but he has a certain respect for the man who can and does. No doubt, the very earnestness, with which we seek to dispense equal justice among all classes, is a stumbling-block in our path, and always has been so. The native likes to deal with a judge who will wink at perjury, and who is not above taking a bribe. Yet the Englishman is everywhere trusted. 'If proof were needed,' says Baron Huebner, 'to show how deeply rooted among the populations is English prestige, I would quote the fact that throughout the peninsula the native prefers, in civil and still more in criminal cases, to be tried by an English judge. It would be impossible, I think, to render a more flattering testimony to British rule.' But these are facts which had no signification for Lord Ripon. He pursued a policy which, designedly or undesignedly, was calculated to bring our rule to an end. 'Lord Ripon's resolution,' some one told Baron Huebner, 'means nothing or means this: The Government foresees that the time will come when we must leave India to herself.' Then there was the Ilbert Bill, placing Europeans in the country districts under the jurisdiction of native judges. How could the natives of all classes fail to look upon this as another evidence that the reins of power were dropping from our nerveless hands? The point of the whole matter was thus put by one of the civilians to Baron Huebner:--'The principle, that the jurisdiction over European subjects of the Crown must be reserved for judges and magistrates who are also European subjects, has always been maintained. And it has always been recognized that in this principle lies the only possible effectual guarantee to Europeans living in country districts against the perjury and false witness so common among the rural populations.' The Ilbert Bill proposed to take away these safeguards from the European, and would have left him at the mercy of native judges and native witnesses, whose only idea of justice is to make a few rupees out of its administration.

The school of Radicals represented only too numerously in the present Parliament--unreasoning, ignorant of India, impulsive, narrow and insular--is also represented among the more recent importations of 'competition wallahs.' Baron Huebner met with many of them. 'In their opinion,' he says, 'the ideal of a sound English policy is the dismemberment of the British Empire, and above all the abandonment of India. To save England, it is necessary first to destroy her.' To the shrewd and experienced Austrian diplomatist, these ideas seem to be absolutely ruinous, but the oddity of it is that thousands of persons in England cling to them with a sort of idolatry, as if within them was compressed the sum and substance of human wisdom. The Radical party to-day lives upon these theories of dismemberment, although it is careful to keep its ultimate aim as much as possible in the background. In India, its adherents are doing an immense amount of harm. Baron Huebner seems to have been struck with amazement at the phenomenon. 'This is, indeed,' he exclaims, 'a curious and perhaps a unique spectacle--an immense administration, managed according to doctrines which are repudiated by the large majority of those who compose it.' The natives who are educated in our schools and colleges emerge from them filled with ideas of Socialism and Atheism. We break down their faith in their own creeds, without succeeding in inducing them to adopt Christianity. They find themselves free to construct a religion of their own, or to do without any religion. As regards the Government, they are led to believe that it ought not to be where it is, and that India should be ruled by its own people. The native press is full of sedition. Let us hear what Baron Huebner has to say upon this subject, for it is worth attention:--

'Is there any public opinion in India? It is declared that
there is none. And yet people agree in saying that the
natives who have been educated in the State colleges have
become singularly importunate of late years, that they are
beginning to adopt a high tone, and that they take especial
delight in criticising the acts of the Government, who,
unwisely, as it seems to me, encourage if not provoke such
criticism. These baboos and their newspapers, I am told,
would only become dangerous at a crisis; and by a crisis is
understood a disastrous European war. But the life of
nations, like that of individuals, is nothing but a series
of successes and reverses. Looked at from this point of
view, the baboo is not such an insignificant being as he
appears to be considered.'

No doubt our Radicals would contend that the Austrian's notion, that it is unwise on the part of the Government to encourage criticism directed against itself, is worthy of a man who has seen the Napoleonic _regime_, and who perhaps admires the 'one man' form of government. But what is the English Radical party itself living under now? Was ever the 'one man form of government' carried out in so relentless a fashion as we see it now in Parliament? Is there not one man in the Government, surrounded by a crowd of nonentities--the one man filling the exact position for which the Americans have invented the significant word 'Boss'? All liberty of thought or freedom of action is gone. The principle insisted upon is 'do whatever our leader tells us; go where he leads; give what he asks--all without murmuring or discontent. The man who murmurs must be drummed out of the ranks.' If we saw the French submitting to this system, no words that we could use would be strong enough to express our contempt for them. As we happen to be doing it ourselves, it must, of course, be good and wise. Granted that it is so, we may fairly ask even the Radicals whether they are quite sure that it is wise to think of giving up India? With what do they propose to replace our government? The testimony of every fair-minded man is that we have accomplished an incalculable amount of excellent work there. Our magnificent highways and railroads, our appliances for irrigation, would alone make our name immortal in the country. The people thrive under our rule; every man is secure in the possession of his property; war no longer devastates the country. We recommend everybody who is unaware of these and similar facts to consider well the evidence adduced by Baron Huebner:--

'Materially speaking, India has never been as prosperous as
she is now. The appearance of the natives, for the most part
well clothed, and of their villages and well-furnished
cottages, and of their well-cultivated fields, seems to
prove this. In their bearing there is nothing servile; in
their behaviour towards their English masters there is a
certain freedom of manner, and a general air of
self-respect; nothing of that abject deference which strikes
and shocks new comers in other Eastern countries. I have no
means of comparing the natives of to-day with the natives of
former generations, but I have been able to compare the
populations who owe direct allegiance to the Empress with
the subjects of the feudatory princes. For example, when you
cross the frontier of Hyderabad, the climate, the soil, the
race, are the same as those you have just quitted, but the
difference between the two States is remarkable, and
altogether to the advantage of the Presidency of Madras or
of Bombay.'

He goes on to say, that no one can deny that the British India of to-day presents a spectacle that has no parallel in the history of the world:

'What do we see? Instead of periodical, if not permanent,
wars, profound peace firmly established throughout the whole
Empire; instead of the exactions of chiefs always greedy for
gold, and not shrinking from any act of cruelty to extort
it, moderate taxes, much lower than those imposed by the
feudatory princes; arbitrary rule replaced by even-handed
justice; the tribunals, once proverbially corrupt, by
upright judges whose example is already beginning to make
its influence felt on native morality and notions of right;
no more Pindarris, no more armed bands of thieves; perfect
security in the cities as well as in the country districts,
and on all the roads; the former bloodthirsty manners and
customs now softened, and, save for certain restrictions
imposed in the interests of public morality, a scrupulous
regard for religious worship, and traditional usages and
customs; materially, an unexampled bound of prosperity, and
even the disastrous effects of the periodical famines, which
afflict certain parts of the peninsula, more and more
diminished by the extension of railways which facilitate the
work of relief. And what has wrought all these miracles? The
wisdom and the courage of a few directing statesmen, the
bravery and the discipline of an army composed of a small
number of Englishmen and a large number of natives, led by
heroes; and lastly, and I will venture to say principally,
the devotion, the intelligence, the courage, the
perseverance, and the skill, combined with an integrity
proof against all temptation, of a handful of officials and
magistrates who govern and administer the Indian Empire.'

Such is the testimony of an Austrian. It ought to bring a flush of shame to the faces of not a few Englishmen.

We have scarcely alluded to the lighter parts of Baron Huebner's volumes--to the excellent touches of description or sketches of character which enliven his pages, or to the numerous pleasantly-told anecdotes of personal adventure. One of these anecdotes is worth repeating, though the author must pardon us if we tell it in our own way. It is too characteristic of life in New York--too full of valuable hints for future travellers--to be lost sight of.

It appears that on his last morning in New York, the Baron found that his note-book had been taken from his room in the hotel. His servant and his baggage had already gone on to the steamer, and the Baron prepared to follow. First, however, as he still had two hours to spare, he thought he would take a final glimpse of Fifth Avenue. These are the little accidents which generally decide our fate in life--the visit to some friend, the call on a stranger, the unpremeditated walk. As the Baron was passing along, a carriage suddenly stopped, a 'fashionably-dressed gentleman' jumped out, and ran up to the traveller with a cordial salutation. He introduced himself as a guest who had dined, with the Baron, at a dinner given by Lord Augustus Loftus in Sydney. 'I am one of the admirers,' he said, 'of your "Promenade autour du Monde," and I venture to ask you to do me the favour of writing your name in my copy of that book. In return, pray accept a volume of Longfellow's poems, with the author's autograph.' The fashionable stranger had skilfully touched the weak place in an author's heart. Baron Huebner consented to be driven back to his hotel, where his new friend was also residing. On the way, the stranger suddenly bethought himself that the two books were at the house of an acquaintance, 'two steps from the hotel.' He put his head out of the window, gave some fresh directions to the coachman, and the Baron soon found himself being whirled along at a furious rate along streets which he did not recognize. Still, the old traveller had no suspicion of anything wrong. His voyages and adventures certainly seem to have left him in a more than ordinarily unsophisticated condition. At last the carriage stopped, our author was conducted into the dark passage of a small house, and then into a little dirty room, where he found a tall man seated before a table, with his back to a mirror. In that mirror, the Baron saw his dear friend from Sydney gently lock the door, and put the key in his pocket. Then he understood all about it.

Of course the tall man was polite, and after promising to go and fetch the volume of Longfellow, he proposed to the gentleman from Sydney a game at cards. While the two men played their sham game, the Baron had time to reflect; he saw that he had been pounced upon very skilfully--in less than two hours the 'Bothnia' would sail, all the people at the hotel would think he had gone by her, no one would miss him, no one would search for him. He might be murdered with impunity--with what impunity the Baron would have fully realized if he had known a little more of New York. No city in the world presents greater facilities for getting rid of the evidences of foul play. We have not seen the recent statistics of murders in New York, and doubt whether they have been published; but in the five years between 1870 and 1875, we happen to know that 281 'homicides' were committed there, and that only seven of the murderers were hanged. Twenty-four were sent to prison--nominally for life, although that is a mere form--and more than one-fourth of the criminals were never brought to trial at all. If Baron Huebner had known all this, he would have regarded his two new acquaintances with even greater interest than he did.

How and why they let him go scot-free is to us a mystery. They invited him to take a hand in the game, and he declined. They pretended to play for him; won, and offered him the stakes. He told them he had no money with him, that they would get nothing for their trouble, that the French Consul was to meet him on board the 'Bothnia' to bid him adieu; if he were not there a hue and cry at once would be raised. 'Then,' adds the Baron, 'turning to my friend from Sydney, I said to him, "Open the door." The ruffians gave in without further trouble. There was an exchange of looks between them, and the tall man said to the other, 'show him out.' We have heard of many strange things happening in New York, but never of one so strange as that.' When I stepped upon the deck of the "Bothnia," says the Baron, 'a few minutes before departure, I felt that I had had a narrow escape.' Very narrow; we should advise Baron Huebner, if ever again he finds himself in New York, not to tempt his good fortune by taking a drive with strangers who admire his writings.

For the novel and stirring incidents of travel, we must turn to Mr. Romilly's narrative of his experiences in the Western Pacific. He transports us to a comparatively little known region, and it was his good or ill fortune to come into contact with phases of life which must, it is to be hoped, for ever remain unknown to most of us. Few living men, for instance, have been present at a great feast on human flesh, cannibalism being one of the habits of savage life which is found to yield at the first touch of civilization. In New Ireland, however, Mr. Romilly happened to be present at a sort of state banquet, given in honour of a victory over the enemy. The enemy himself supplied the materials of the repast. The details of the preparation of the horrible food may be read in Mr. Romilly's pages by all who have a curiosity on the subject. Some few particulars concerning a compound called 'Sak-sak' may here be given:--

'They, [the heads of the victims] were then disposed of in
various ways, and when I asked what would be done with them,
I was told, "They will go to improve the sak-sak." The
natives on the East coast of New Ireland prepare a very
excellent composition of sago and cocoa-nut, called sak-sak.
I used to buy a supply of this every morning, as it would
not keep, for my men. Now it appeared that for the next week
or so, a third ingredient would be added to the sak-sak,
namely, brains. I need hardly say that for the next two days
of my stay I did not taste sak-sak, though my men made no
secret of doing so. The flesh in the ovens had to be cooked
for three days, or until the tough leaves in which it was
wrapped were nearly consumed. When taken out of the ovens
the method of eating it is as follows. The head of the eater
is thrown back, somewhat after the fashion of an Italian
eating macaroni. The leaf is opened at one end, and the
contents are pressed into the mouth until they are finished.
As Bill, my interpreter put it, "they cookum that fellow
three day; by-and-by cookum finish, that fellow all same
grease." For days afterwards, when everything is finished,
they abstain from washing, lest the memory of the feast
should be too fleeting.'

Mr. Romilly was informed by the natives that human flesh tastes even better than pork. One is satisfied to take their word for it. In the New Hebrides it appears that the people prefer to eat it dried, or 'jerked.' At present, we are told,

'the cannibals in the world may be numbered by millions.
Probably a third of the natives of the country where I am
now writing (New Guinea) are cannibals; so are about
two-thirds of the occupants of the New Hebrides, and the
same proportion of the Solomon Islanders. All the natives of
the Santa Cruz group, Admiralties, Hermits, Louisiade,
Engineer, D'Entrecasteaux groups are cannibals, and even
some well-authenticated cases have occurred among the "black
fellows" of Northern Australia. I do not know that the fact
of a native being a cannibal makes him a greater savage.
Some of the most treacherous savages on this coast are
undoubtedly not cannibals, while most of the Louisiade
cannibals are a mild-tempered, pleasant set of men.'

This testimony can do no harm in England, but it is to be hoped that Mr. Romilly will not repeat it too often among his black friends, or the moral of it might be misunderstood.

The Solomon Islands still form a part of the world of which very little is known. They are rarely visited, and travellers who have gone for the purpose of 'taking notes,' have either altered their minds in good season, or never returned. Some years ago, Mr. Benjamin Boyd, a member of the Royal Yacht Squadron went out in his yacht, the 'Wanderer,' and was captured by the natives. Search was made for him from time to time, and his initials were found carved on trees. A notice was placed on all the goods sent to the natives to this effect: 'B. B., we are looking for you'--but no tidings were ever heard of the missing man. Mr. Romilly was told by the captain of a labour schooner that somewhere on the south coast he had noticed a European skull in a sort of temple; he recognized it as European from its size, and he also observed that one of the teeth was stopped with gold. We take it for granted that the dentists among the Solomon Islanders do not use gold for filling teeth. This, then, was probably the skull of the hapless owner of the 'Wanderer.' The Solomon Islanders now make a practice of killing white men, if it can be done safely, in revenge for the way in which they have been 'kidnapped' for the labour traffic. The diseases introduced by their treacherous white friends have made terrible ravages among them, and their own habits tend still further to reduce their numbers. There are several places,' says Mr. Romilly, 'where it is the custom to kill all, or nearly all, of the children soon after they are born.' This is the only region we ever heard of where so frightful and unnatural a custom exists. Female children are, or used to be, destroyed in many countries; but the indiscriminate slaughter of all children is decidedly uncommon. These islanders have another device which is supported by an argument not entirely devoid of strength. 'In a battle the victorious party, if they can surprise their enemies sufficiently to admit of a wholesale massacre, kill not only the men, but also the women and children. "We should be fools," say they, "if we did not. This must be revenged some day, if there are any men to do it; but how can they get men if we kill the women and children?"' The same thought has doubtless occurred to modern conquerors elsewhere, though, happily, circumstances have not enabled them to carry it into practical effect. Some other curious details respecting this group of islands, are given by Mr. Romilly. The old women it appears, become adepts in the occult sciences, and the men occasionally find the trade of wizard lucrative. They are chiefly called upon to bring about a change in the weather, and their plan of operations is to gain time. It resembles, in some striking features, the method adopted by the 'inspired statesman' of our own latitudes when he is trying to feel his way towards the development of some scheme which he is half afraid of himself, and which the public view with profound suspicion. Surely the most of us could find a counterpart to the individual described in the following passage:--

'One old sorcerer of my acquaintance was a most interesting
study. If he was asked for fine weather (which, by the way,
in the Solomons is the usual request, the rainfall being
enormous), he used to temporize in a truly masterly manner.
First he would hold out for more payment. This policy he
could continue for an indefinite length of time, as he would
of course require payment in a form which he knew was
difficult or impossible for the natives to comply with.
Then, if he thought there was any likelihood of fine weather
for a day or two, he would become possessed of a devil which
would leave him at once if the sun made its appearance, but
if the bad weather lasted the devil would last too; and
finally, if the bad weather was very obstinate and would not
come, he would hold out again for more payment. In this
manner my old sorcerer was very seldom mistaken in his
forecasts, and the influence he exerted over the clerk of
the weather must have been very irksome to that functionary.

This leader of his tribe, we are further informed, had a 'great hold over the imagination of his dupes.' We are more civilized--or _we_ think so--than the islanders of the Western Pacific; but human nature is pretty much the same there as here. As for the philosophy of such matters, it is thus summed up by Mr. Romilly: 'I have often wondered what the sorcerer thinks of himself; whether he really believes himself to be a magician, or whether he realizes the fact that he is an arrant old humbug. I think there is a mixture of both feelings.' It would be useless to pursue this enquiry any further.

Another of the unexplored islands of these seas forms a part of the Admiralty group, and is called Jesus Maria. It was visited by the 'Challenger' in 1875, and again by Mr. Romilly on two occasions, the last in 1881, in H.M.S. 'Beagle.' The natives, a fierce and warlike race, crowded round the vessel, eager to sell everything they had including their babies. Bottles and hoop-iron were eagerly sought for. While engaged in carrying on this simple traffic, the party on board noticed, to their amazement a white man on shore who fired off a gun to attract their attention. The next day a boat rowed to the beach, and there stood the white man. He proved to be a Scotchman named David Dow, who was collecting _beche de mer_, and found his trade prospects so good that he desired to remain where he was. The Admiralty Islanders have some 'very singular customs,' not to be met with anywhere else; but after thus piquing our curiosity, Mr. Romilly ruthlessly balks it by remarking 'that they are, unfortunately, of a nature which cannot be described here.' We share his regret upon his being obliged to keep the secret; for when a traveller has found out anything absolutely fresh and startling, common humanity should, in these dull and overcast times, induce him to disclose it. But no doubt Mr. Romilly has his reasons for silence, and we must submit to them. The Germans have recently hoisted their flag upon several of these islands, and we may trust them to tell all that they can find out, and more.

In the Laughlan islands--a small group--the Germans are also to be found. Indeed, they are spreading rapidly, over the Pacific Isles. As the spirit of adventure is dying out among Englishmen, it appears to be increasing in other nations. The genius for colonization appears to have fled from us to Germany. Certain it is that Germans are everywhere displaying that daring and enterprise in which we once shone above all other people in the world. They will probably end by becoming masters of the larger part of the Western Pacific. As for the Laughlan Islands, it cannot be said that any one whose lot takes him there need be regarded as an object of pity. The climate is good; food is abundant; life is tolerably easy. True, there are no newspapers and no Parliament; but existence has often been found supportable in the absence of these things. The natives are friendly; and there are no animals anywhere, not even rats. The men are decently clad, and the women wear a very voluminous kilt, sometimes two or three of them, over each other. These garments are made of grass, leaves, or fibre, stained various colours. 'In wearing two or three, care is taken to produce an aesthetic mixture of colours--a little vanity which is met with sometimes at home amongst ladies who like to display petticoats of many colours. It is considered just as essential here to walk well as it is at home, but the two styles are not quite the same. The Laughlan lady, in walking, at each step gives a little twist to the hips, which has the effect of making the kilts fly out right and left, in what is considered a highly fashionable and beautiful manner. Though a somewhat similar effect to this may, I am informed, occasionally be seen in petticoats at home, still I fear that the firm stride of the Laughlan lady could hardly be reproduced in English boots. To see ten or twelve of these ladies walking in the unsociable formation of single file, which they adopt, with their many-coloured kilts flying out on either side, is a very pretty sight.' Evidently, a judicious traveller and observer might do worse than take a tour to the Laughlans.

Two other interesting spots to visit are Thursday Island and Norfolk Island, both British possessions, and the first a place of some importance, as the centre of the Torres Straits pearl-shell fishery. This trade has demoralized the natives, who now seem to spend a great part of their time in getting drunk, the Europeans too often setting the example, 'It is a common thing,' says Mr. Romilly, 'for a diver to go down three-parts drunk. The dress is supposed to have a very sobering effect.' Here is a little story which will produce a pang of regret in the minds of the jewellers of Bond Street:--

'The best pearl I ever saw was in the possession of a
celebrated diver who was a shipmate of mine from Thursday
Island to Brisbane. He was offered on board the ship two
hundred pounds for it, which could not have been a third of
its value. But he refused every offer, as he had just been
paid off, and had plenty of money. I felt sure it would go
the way of all pearls when his money was finished, and
accordingly I informed a Sydney jeweller of it, and where he
could see it. When I was in Sydney a few weeks later I made
inquiries about it, and the jeweller told me that it was the
finest pear-shaped pearl he had ever seen, but that it was
unsaleable at its proper value in Australia, and he had
therefore made no attempt to buy it.'

But the pearl fishery on these coasts is becoming less lucrative every year, and it is now falling almost entirely into the hands of natives, who can stay under water longer than men of our own race, and seem to be endowed with greater powers of endurance. As for the 'labour trade' of which we all have heard so much, Mr. Romilly gives us to understand that it is dying out. It arose under the stimulus which the American war gave to cotton growing, and to the sudden necessity for procuring assistance for the planters. At first, the natives were found ready enough to volunteer for the service, but the treatment they received was not calculated to encourage the spirit of volunteering. Then all sorts of artifices were tried to deceive them. Sometimes the labour-hunters pretended to be missionaries. 'On the usual question being asked, "Where shippy come?" they would reply, "Missionary." Perhaps they would all pretend to sing a hymn very slowly, while the hatches would be left open, and several tins of biscuits would be put into the hold.' Curiosity would gradually draw the natives aboard, and then the hatches would be clapped on, and the man-stealers made off for Queensland or Fiji. It is to be hoped that Mr. Romilly is right in stating that these practices have ceased, but unless we are mistaken, accounts have appeared in colonial journals, within a very recent period, of organized raids upon these coasts for the purpose of carrying off the natives. It is needless to say, that a sentiment of hostility to all white men is likely to remain as the permanent result of this abominable system.

The fact is, that the white men who had the run of these islands down to a few years ago were chiefly the off-scourings of other countries. They found among the savages far fewer vices than they brought with them from the civilized world. Some of them had run away to escape from the vengeance of the laws which they had outraged; others were attracted by the freedom which an entirely new life opened up to them. From them have sprung a brood of half-castes who are the curse of the islands--like many other half-castes, they manage to combine the evil qualities of both races. The chief traders along the Pacific are now becoming much more respectable. Some of them, indeed, appear to emulate the style and condition of the prosperous English merchant. Mr. Romilly knows such a man, living 'within a day's march' of the wildest cannibals in the Pacific, who keeps up an establishment of forty or fifty men, with a French _chef_. 'In a hitherto almost unknown island, he will give you a dinner, every night, which could not be equalled at any private house or club in Australia.' He keeps a yacht for private exploring expeditions, and is to-day the principal 'trader and pioneer in the Pacific.' A narrative of his observations and experiences would be of very unusual interest, but like the Russian settler before referred to, he reserves for his own benefit the knowledge he has acquired. The Germans are pushing us hard, and in many respects they are better fitted for their work than English traders. There seems a fair prospect of a gradual elevation of social as well as of commercial life throughout the Pacific. Already, lawlessness is discouraged. Not so very many years ago, piracy was carried on openly in these seas. Mr. Romilly gives a very interesting and curious account of one of the last pirates, a desperado known as 'Bully Hayes,' once a boatman on the Mississippi. This man began life by robbing his father, and soon afterwards made his appearance on the Pacific coast the proud proprietor of a fifty-ton schooner. 'How he had obtained possession of this schooner,' says Mr. Romilly, 'was a matter of surmise, but he had been seen at Singapore not long before this time, and a fifty-ton schooner had mysteriously disappeared from that port without the knowledge of her captain and owner.' He carried on a bold career of plunder for many years, and only came to grief at last by an accident which he could not have foreseen. He had stolen another vessel, and was making for some of his favourite haunts along the coast, when the cook, who was steering, happened to give him some offence. At that time, Hayes was accustomed to settle all disputes off-handed with his revolver, and in accordance with this plan he ran below to get his 'shooting irons.' Mr. Romilly thus relates the sequel:--

'The cook objected, and, catching up the first piece of wood
he saw, got on to the top of the little deck-house over the
ladder, and, the moment Hayes showed his head above deck,
gave him a blow which killed him on the spot. This cook
seems to have been some what doubtful as to whether Hayes
was even now dead, so he fetched the largest anchor the
cutter possessed, and bound the body to it, after which he
hove anchor and body overboard, remarking, "For sure Massa
Hayes dead this time."'