to get rid of the Ngatipoa in a peaceable fashion. To make prisoners of
them all was not possible, even had it been wisdom; the others might have
done mischief. There were friends of my own among the Maoris, and I
relied upon them as an assistance towards a solution. I must make the
vaunted Ngatipoa in a measure ridiculous; treat them as if they were
naughty children. I addressed the chief, "How could you be so foolish? I
had thought you a wise fellow." He did not say what he thought I was, but
admitted frankly the object of the raid. He asked me to allow them to
leave quietly, and I consented, on condition they went at once.
'They petitioned to remain until the tide was at the flow, when they
could readily get their big canoes afloat. But I was firm, fearing that
if they lingered they might mix with the townspeople, be chaffed, and
retaliate. Besides, I was determined that they should, as a lesson in
humility, have the labour and indignity of pulling their canoes over the
shingle. It vexed them sore, after having arrived with a war-whoop, to be
obliged to beat so menial a retreat. However, they must submit to the
toil and the jeers they had laid up for themselves, by their behaviour.
As they were exhausted, I granted them leave to remain for the night at a
pa, some miles distant from Auckland. Next day they forwarded me a
penitent letter, through Selwyn, if I remember aright.
'The folks of Auckland had all turned out to witness the sport, and were
very proud of the successful result. They were convinced, most of them,
that they had something to do with bringing it about. A picture of the
scene was painted to commemorate it. What worried me, was that I was made
to look so young beside my officers--younger really than I was. Earlier,
Peel had said of me, on the same text, that youth ought to be no bar to
public employment, and that, anyhow, it was a fault which was always
mending.'
Sir George Grey had established New Zealand with peace, and an ever
rising prosperity. The two fondled these isles, as the Pacific Ocean
lapped their shores. 'On your arrival,' wrote the Maoris in one of their
many farewell addresses to him, 'the rain was beating, and the wind
blowing fiercely; and then you lifted up your voice to calm the raging
elements.'
England needed his spell elsewhere.
XII IN THE QUEEN'S NAME
The example of one gallant-minded, stout cadet, was maybe with Carlyle
when he pictured the Queen in Council to pick out some other, still
unoccupied, and adjure him in royal words:
'Young fellow, if there do be in you potentialities of governing, a
gradual finding, leading, and coercing to a noble goal, how sad it is
that that should be all lost. I have scores on scores of colonies. One of
these you shall have. Go and grapple with it in the name of Heaven, and
let us see what you will build of it.'
To Carlyle Sir George Grey might have gone, and laid at his feet South
Australia and New Zealand. He had been their fairy autocrat during
fourteen years; and the rugged outlooker at Chelsea would have admitted
them to be healthy brats. New Zealand having been fitted with her
Parliament, Sir George turned his face homeward, on leave of absence,
Selwyn a fellow voyager. Mother's boy and mother hoped to meet once more,
but it was not, to be. The Motherland had kept the servant too long on
duty, but he grudged her not even that.
'My mother,' said Sir George softly, 'had been in frail health for some
time, and I was always hoping to get home on her account. She heard that
our ship had been signalled in the English Channel, then that I had
landed, and she waited my appearance with loving expectation. My young
step-brother entered her room, and mistaking him for me, she grasped his
hand in thankfulness. The thing excited her, so very weak was she, and
her death took place before I could reach her. Happily, I had at least
the consolation that she believed she had seen me.'
The danger spot, in our over-sea territory, was now South Africa, where
British and Dutch were at odds with each other, and both at odds with the
natives. Affairs were a chaos. The region, grown historic as the
Transvaal, had been told to arrange its future as it would. The Orange
Free State had been kicked outside the British line of empire, with a
solatium in money, in the manner that an angry father bids adieu to a
ne'er-do-well son. A white man in South Africa hardly knew what flag he
was living under, or, indeed, if he could claim any. Panda, on the
Zululand frontier, growled over his assegai and knobkerry. Moshesh, the
Basuto, hung grimly on the face of Thaba Bosego, a Mountain of Night in
very truth. The embers of a Kaffir war still glowed.
Who was to hold the arena? Its hazards were thrown to Sir George Grey. At
the moment, he would, perhaps, rather have returned to New Zealand, but
he was told that somebody with the necessary qualifications must hie to
the Cape, and that the Government had selected him. He packed his baggage
and sailed from Bristol, Sir James Stephen going down there to see him
embark. Bristol, as he explained, was then endeavouring to establish
relations with the Cape and Australasia, which were coming into note.
'When I reached Cape Town,' Sir George pursued, 'they had just got their
first Parliament, but it was hardly in operation. Under the constitution
that had been granted, the Governor remained, to all purposes, the
paramount force in the country. His ministers had practically no power
over him, and thus everything was more or less in his hands. On urging
them, as I often did, to go in for a system under which the ministers
should be directly responsible to the people, not to the Governor, I
would be told, "Oh, we can always get rid of you, if you do anything
wrong, by an appeal to the Colonial Office." It was not until after I
left the Cape that popular government was brought into effect.
'What sort of South Africa did I find? The bulk of the whites were Boers,
who were most conservative in their ideas. There were no railways, and I
had great difficulty in making that innovation acceptable to the Boers.
Effort was requisite for the construction of harbours, a matter of
equally vital importance, which I took in hand. It was desirable to give
South Africa every possible element of a high civilisation, as, farther,
universities, schools, and libraries. A mixture of Saxon and Dutch, she
had to work out her destiny on her own lines, untrammelled by the Old
World. Also, she must enlighten that cloud of a barbarous Africa which
was pressing down from the north.
'How South Africa has changed since then! To illustrate that,
Bloemfontein was quite a small place in the far wilds. Nobody knew where
the capital of the freshly created Orange Free State was to be. No wonder
either, since, for a while, many of the people refused to accept the new
form of government, and would not vote for a President. They were angry,
at having been thrust forth from their heritage as British subjects. What
nation, they demanded, had the right so to treat a section of its people,
who had done nothing to disqualify themselves from citizenship?
'You have to remember that the movement for throwing over the Colonies,
was rising as an force active in England. They had come into being almost
unbidden; they were regarded with a cold interest. The notion that it
would be a good thing to lop them off altogether, was being accepted
among English statesmen. You could feel the heresy in the air--gusts that
brushed your face like a chill.'
The South Africa thus put foot upon by Sir George Grey, was re-created to
him long after, in a cablegram that he received in New Zealand. The South
African railway system, which he tended in its infancy, had crawled north
to Bloemfontein, as it has since gone farther, and still goes on, the
iron-shod tramp. That auspicious day, Bloemfontein remembered the author
of its Grey College, and gripped his hand across the sea. It made him
very happy. Providence had set him to garden three countries of the
Southern Hemisphere in rapid succession. That 'God bless you' from
Bloemfontein, showed, perhaps, that he had not tilled in vain.
'There can be no harm,' said Sir George, 'in relating another incident,
which kept up the kindly link between the Orange Free State and myself.
Before my friend Mr. Reitz accepted its Presidency, he wrote and asked me
would I be willing to consider the offer, provided it were made to me? I
was then, I think, in the quiet of Kawau Island, and I suppose Mr. Reitz
believed I might be more actively employed.
'One did not need to be already a burgher of the Free State, for
President Brand had not been; at all events, that was not an obstacle. I
did not see my way to regard the offer, but the making of it manifested a
beautiful trait in Mr. Reitz's character. How many men, being tendered
the highest post that their country could confer, would have turned to
another, asking, "Will you accept it?"'
The manner in which Sir George tackled the South African embroilment,
appears in his treatment of that mongrel race, the Hottentots. They
recruited largely to the Queen's Colonial service, but had a grievance in
that, on leaving, they did not get, as they had been led to expect, the
pension of white troopers. The 'Totties,' so christened in the Colony,
might be loyal and brave, but they were not whites, and anything was good
enough for them, if only it meant an Imperial saving. The Governor
determined, 'This must be wiped out; its effect has already been
disastrous; the Queen's uniform has but one colour.' He applied to
Downing Street, only to be informed that it was not possible to reward
native troopers, on retirement, as whites were. This did not content him.
'I went to the Cape Parliament, which, recognising the simple justice of
my proposal, adopted it with a wise liberality. There was immediate
satisfaction among the Hottentots, and on no subsequent occasion did they
give trouble. It was ever my endeavour to bind the natives to us by
esteem, to convince them that British rule was the most desireable rule
they could have.'
How winsomely Sir George made the Queen a living personality as well as a
mighty name to the native races! 'Ha-ha!' cried Maori; African,
Australian, 'the Queen is indeed our mother, for Governor Grey shows it
by his acts. But the eloquent word on that, came from an old Kaffir
woman, whom nobody owned, Lot Hrayi. This was her epistle, through the
Governor to the Queen:
'I am very thankful to you, dearest Queen Victoria, that you have sent,
for me, a good doctor, a clever man. I was sixteen years blind, Mother
and Queen, but now I see perfectly. I see everything. I can see the
stars, and the moon and the sun. I used to be led before; but now,
Mother, O Queen, I am able to walk myself. Let God bless you as long as
you live on earth; let God bless Mother! Thou must not be tired to bear
our infirmities, O Queen Victoria.'
To Sir George, Lot Hrayi's despatch was a State paper. 'Native races,' he
laid down, 'understood personal rule, and the great thing was to make the
Queen vivid, a reality, to them. England? Yes, it was a place far
distant, where there were no dark-skinned peoples. The Queen of England?
Ah, yes, they could comprehend her! She sat on a throne, so beautiful
that its place must be where all was beautiful and good. Her heart beat
for her folk, irrespective of their colour; she would minister to their
happiness. Nothing could more delight her, than to secure the well-being
of those who claimed her powerful protection. That was intelligible!
'Thus, when I had a measure of mercy, of justice, or of guidance to
announce, I did it directly, in the Queen's name, and in the native
languages. It was the Queen's utterance, though spoken by me, and it
would be difficult to indicate how well the charm worked. Go into a
cottage, in almost any part of England, and you will, I judge, find a
portrait of the Queen hanging on the whitewashed walls. There were no
portraits in the Kaffir kraals, yet the Queen entered them, a beneficent
influence in many a crisis.'
Striving to attach the Kaffirs, Sir George granted them written titles to
their lands. They could not at first perceive the object of the
parchment, and he would express it thus: 'If you have any trouble with
your lands, it is only necessary for you to go to a judge with this
document. He will read it, and if there is a real grievance, he will have
it put right. Even the Queen's army might be ordered away from a place,
by a few policemen, if a judge so directed.'
The chiefs would often say afterwards: 'Oh, Sir George Grey explained to
us, all about the advantages under which we held the land. He told us
that the Queen, herself, could not turn us off the ground, without going
to the supreme courts which dispensed justice in her name. If a claimant
were found not entitled to a piece of land, he would be removed by the
Queen's officers. But if he had right behind his claim, why, he would be
maintained in it by those officers.'
'Some people,' Sir George made comment, 'declared it absurd that I should
instil those ideas into the minds of the natives, but, in reality, it
resulted in their having far more respect and regard for the Queen.'
Assuredly, his policy made the Kaffirs eager to get land titles, and
these were always another link binding them to good behaviour. It was the
contrivance of the silken thread, wound here, there, everywhere, as
against the other method, of a horse-hair halter.
Should some swashbuckler have contrary views on native administration, he
could relieve his fierceness by tracing the word 'Hottentot' to its
origin. Sir George had an amusing story of Cape Town in controversy on
this term, which the Hottentots had always insisted did not belong to
their forefathers.
'With a desire to solve the problem,' he related, 'I suggested that
people in Cape Town should be asked to write papers on the name. This
proposal was carried out, and a small sheaf of essays came in response.
Well, I was looking over an old Dutch dictionary, and there I found
"Hottentot" described as meaning "Not speaking well; a stammerer." The
name, apparently, had been conferred by the early Dutch settlers, in
South Africa, upon the natives first met, on account of the stuttering
noise these caused in speaking. All the competitors wanted to have their
papers back, in order, as they pleaded, to make a few corrections.'
Again, that was a process which Sir George was ever willing to apply to
himself. Yet, being very human, he loved to make the corrections in his
own fashion, like the essay-writers at Cape Town. There, at the foot of
Africa, he sat, bold and cautious, leading the What-Was onward to the
What-Ought-To-Be. He might be compared to a charioteer driving two
horses, one white in two shades, jibbish at a corner, the other black as
Satan, unbroken to the bit. But the chariot must move forward steadily,
evenly, to its greater glory.
Kaffraria had to be put on a peace footing. The ideas, at the root of the
tribal system, were averse to the growth of civilisation, but instead of
pruning these violently, and so causing friction, Sir George would adapt
them. The chiefs were largely dependent for their wealth in cattle and
other chattels, on the punishments which they meted out to the tribesmen
for offences, or imaginary offences. Let a Kaffir prosper, and he was
certain to be charged with witchcraft. That was sudden death, and the
cattle went to the kraals of him who ordered it.
The chiefs had every incentive to create witchcraft cases, thus keeping
the land dark. Sir George met that, and farther bonded them fiefs of the
Queen, by giving them small salaries as magistrates. He established
regular courts, and in these the chiefs had their seats and a white man's
guidance, while the fines went to the Government. A scarred warrior
exchanged his dripping assegai for the Queen's commission as a J.P. He
swaggered mightily at his bargain.
'It had,' Sir George brought up an apt anecdote, 'been promised the
natives that their laws and customs should not be interfered with. After
I introduced the courts, a chief was discovered to have put one of his
tribe to death for witchcraft. I had the affair gone into, whereupon the
chief contended, "You are aware of the undertaking we got, and trial for
witchcraft is part of our customs."
'He fancied there could be no answer to this, and the other chiefs within
hearing grinned approval. "Very well," I addressed him, "let us take it
that way. But as you have killed this man you must support his widow.
That has nothing to do with any question of custom." 'All the chiefs
rolled on the ground, splitting with laughter. Knowing the penalty they
might incur, the heads of tribes henceforth thought twice, before sending
any man to death on a charge of witchcraft. They knew I had the means of
compelling them to maintain the widow and family. I could stop the
necessary amount out of their salaries. It was cheaper, and more
effective, to give a bonus to a native chief than to keep a large
standing army in Kaffraria.'
Sir George had worn the red coat, but he was never anxious to have it
picturesquely dotting a country-side, when other measures were possible.
He had bartered with Downing Street for the allowance to his chiefs.
Paring down on a Budget, Disraeli bethought himself of saving half of the
grant for Kaffraria. Sir George Grey entered protest. He was answered,
that when difficulties had to be met at home, sacrifices must be made in
the Colonies.
From tribulation, Sir George built authority. 'The fact that I was
fighting the battle of the chiefs with the Home Government, naturally
increased my prestige among them. They saw that I was sincere in all I
had done, and that I accepted them absolutely as good friends and loyal
subjects of the Queen.'
What happened? From his private means, Sir George made up, to the full
amount, the instalment of salaries next due. It was a stroke which he had
to repeat on a larger scale.
England raised a German legion for service in the Crimea, and, the war
over, did not know what to do with the men. It was not considered wise to
let them loose in England, and if they went back to Germany they might
have to face the music of a drumhead court-martial. Cape Colony agreed to
receive the Germans as military settlers; they would be planted, a row of
defence, along the borders of Kaffraria. But the condition was attached
that German families, into which the men might marry, should also be sent
out.
When asked to perform the second part of the bargain, Downing Street
said, 'Yes, we should like very much to do so, but we can't, for
Parliament won't grant the money.'
This left the matter in an unfortunate state altogether. The German firm,
managing the emigration of the families, reported to Sir George, 'The
scheme must fall through, unless we have twenty thousand pounds at once.'
'I was in London,' Sir George mentioned, 'at the break between my two
Governorships of South Africa. I went carefully into the matter,
realising all that was at stake, and I gave the assurance, "You shall
have the money this afternoon." I had never raised a large amount before,
but I concluded that the place to go to was the City of London. I had
several thousands with my bankers, on which I could lay hands, and I
supposed they would enable me, by some method of interest, to get the
remainder.
'On the road to the City I met a connexion of mine, also a banker. He
asked me what I was about, and I told him. "Why don't you come to us?" he
said. "I have no money with you," I replied; "and never had." "No," was
his response; "but you need not pass us by in this matter. I should like
to help you; come and draw a cheque for twenty thousand pounds."'
That cheque was drawn, and South Africa extracted from a grave social
difficulty. The emigrants became an admirable settlement, and most
honourably made good the outlay which they had occasioned. 'It wasn't
banking, it wasn't business, that cheque,' Sir George was bantered long
years after; 'but perhaps it was better.'
'Ah!' he laughed back, 'I'm benefiting myself now, for it seems that I
returned thirty-eight shillings more than was due, and that therefore I
have a balance to draw upon.'
XIII OCEANA AND THE PROPHETESS
Sir George Grey rode hard and far over the South African karoo, serving
the Queen's writ in letters of gold. When he rode late, and the stars
were ablaze, his saddle held a dreamer in dreamland.
What a lightsome new world! The sun had bathed it in the day; night
brought another radiance. Here was the emblem of all the New World should
be to the Old. Not yet, perhaps, in the full, for there were things to
do, but soon, when the outposts of empire, stretching to Australia, New
Zealand, and beyond, had come into their own. Yes, those glorious stars
overhead were only meant to shine on a New World reflecting their
brightness!
One winked, and Sir George smiled. Sir John Herschel had visited the
Cape to fix the southern stars. The recollection carried Sir George Grey
to the astronomer's part in quite a different affair. He had the tale
from Herschel himself, and classed it with the somewhat relative
incidents of Carlyle and Babbage. It was worse for the victim.
'Nevertheless,' said Sir George, 'his statement of it to me, was marked
by much humour and enjoyment. It was the third example of my great men
coming to grief through their tailor; anyhow, there lay a contributory
cause. One might have moralised to Herschel on the subject of genius and
clothes; I did better, I sympathised.
'Sir John, who was living near Windsor, had been up in London, and was to
return home for dinner. It occurred to him that he might call somewhere
in town, about certain magnetic instruments that were being made for him,
and still reach Windsor by the dinner hour. So he set off to the place,
carrying in his hand certain small parcels, the contents of which were
probably intended for the dinner. Remembering his quaint figure, I
confess I would have given something to see him scudding along the London
streets on that occasion.
'Well, when he had accomplished a good part of the journey he asked
himself, "Can I do it after all?" He took out his watch, in order to
ascertain what time was left him. He found that the way had occupied him
longer than he had calculated; in fact, it was clearly impossible that he
could go on to the instrument-maker, and also get home for dinner. He had
a small party of guests that evening, and thus his punctual arrival was
imperative. Having considered the dilemma for a minute, he wheeled about,
satisfied that he must give up his mission if he would not spoil the
dinner party. He started back in a great hurry, and at once the cry was
raised, "Stop thief! Stop thief!"
'It appeared that a policeman, full of suspicion, had been watching the
not very fashionable bearer of the parcels. When Sir John came to his
sudden halt, this fellow reasoned, "Ah! he observes me; my suspicions are
confirmed." There could be no manner of doubt, on Sir John setting to run
in the opposite direction. The policeman shouted, "Stop thief!" and
rushed after the astronomer, a tail of curious people gathering from all
sides. Sir John jogged on, heedless of the noise, ignorant of its cause,
until the policeman brought him up. What was the matter? The man of the
law looked awful things, and kept a stern eye upon his prisoner, for that
was now Sir John's position.
'He explained that he was hurrying home for dinner, that his wife and
friends would be waiting him, and that to be detained in such fashion was
a trifle absurd, especially as he was Sir John Herschel. "Sir John
Herschel!" quoth the policeman; "that's your game, is it? No, no, my
friend; you'll have to come to the police-station with me." And away he
marched the most eminent astronomer of many a year.