CHAPTER II--THE ELEMENTS OF DISCORD: FOREIGN

The huge majority of Samoans, like other God-fearing folk in other

countries, are perfectly content with their own manners. And upon one

condition, it is plain they might enjoy themselves far beyond the average

of man. Seated in islands very rich in food, the idleness of the many

idle would scarce matter; and the provinces might continue to bestow

their names among rival pretenders, and fall into war and enjoy that a

while, and drop into peace and enjoy that, in a manner highly to be

envied. But the condition--that they should be let alone--is now no

longer possible. More than a hundred years ago, and following closely on

the heels of Cook, an irregular invasion of adventurers began to swarm

about the isles of the Pacific. The seven sleepers of Polynesia stand,

still but half aroused, in the midst of the century of competition. And

the island races, comparable to a shopful of crockery launched upon the

stream of time, now fall to make their desperate voyage among pots of

brass and adamant.

Apia, the port and mart, is the seat of the political sickness of Samoa.

At the foot of a peaked, woody mountain, the coast makes a deep indent,

roughly semicircular. In front the barrier reef is broken by the fresh

water of the streams; if the swell be from the north, it enters almost

without diminution; and the war-ships roll dizzily at their moorings, and

along the fringing coral which follows the configuration of the beach,

the surf breaks with a continuous uproar. In wild weather, as the world

knows, the roads are untenable. Along the whole shore, which is

everywhere green and level and overlooked by inland mountain-tops, the

town lies drawn out in strings and clusters. The western horn is

Mulinuu, the eastern, Matautu; and from one to the other of these

extremes, I ask the reader to walk. He will find more of the history of

Samoa spread before his eyes in that excursion, than has yet been

collected in the blue-books or the white-books of the world. Mulinuu

(where the walk is to begin) is a flat, wind-swept promontory, planted

with palms, backed against a swamp of mangroves, and occupied by a rather

miserable village. The reader is informed that this is the proper

residence of the Samoan kings; he will be the more surprised to observe a

board set up, and to read that this historic village is the property of

the German firm. But these boards, which are among the commonest

features of the landscape, may be rather taken to imply that the claim

has been disputed. A little farther east he skirts the stores, offices,

and barracks of the firm itself. Thence he will pass through Matafele,

the one really town-like portion of this long string of villages, by

German bars and stores and the German consulate; and reach the Catholic

mission and cathedral standing by the mouth of a small river. The bridge

which crosses here (bridge of Mulivai) is a frontier; behind is Matafele;

beyond, Apia proper; behind, Germans are supreme; beyond, with but few

exceptions, all is Anglo-Saxon. Here the reader will go forward past the

stores of Mr. Moors (American) and Messrs. MacArthur (English); past the

English mission, the office of the English newspaper, the English church,

and the old American consulate, till he reaches the mouth of a larger

river, the Vaisingano. Beyond, in Matautu, his way takes him in the

shade of many trees and by scattered dwellings, and presently brings him

beside a great range of offices, the place and the monument of a German

who fought the German firm during his life. His house (now he is dead)

remains pointed like a discharged cannon at the citadel of his old

enemies. Fitly enough, it is at present leased and occupied by

Englishmen. A little farther, and the reader gains the eastern flanking

angle of the bay, where stands the pilot-house and signal-post, and

whence he can see, on the line of the main coast of the island, the

British and the new American consulates.

The course of his walk will have been enlivened by a considerable to and

fro of pleasure and business. He will have encountered many varieties of

whites,--sailors, merchants, clerks, priests, Protestant missionaries in

their pith helmets, and the nondescript hangers-on of any island beach.

And the sailors are sometimes in considerable force; but not the

residents. He will think at times there are more signboards than men to

own them. It may chance it is a full day in the harbour; he will then

have seen all manner of ships, from men-of-war and deep-sea packets to

the labour vessels of the German firm and the cockboat island schooner;

and if he be of an arithmetical turn, he may calculate that there are

more whites afloat in Apia bay than whites ashore in the whole

Archipelago. On the other hand, he will have encountered all ranks of

natives, chiefs and pastors in their scrupulous white clothes; perhaps

the king himself, attended by guards in uniform; smiling policemen with

their pewter stars; girls, women, crowds of cheerful children. And he

will have asked himself with some surprise where these reside. Here and

there, in the back yards of European establishments, he may have had a

glimpse of a native house elbowed in a corner; but since he left Mulinuu,

none on the beach where islanders prefer to live, scarce one on the line

of street. The handful of whites have everything; the natives walk in a

foreign town. A year ago, on a knoll behind a bar-room, he might have

observed a native house guarded by sentries and flown over by the

standard of Samoa. He would then have been told it was the seat of

government, driven (as I have to relate) over the Mulivai and from beyond

the German town into the Anglo-Saxon. To-day, he will learn it has been

carted back again to its old quarters. And he will think it significant

that the king of the islands should be thus shuttled to and fro in his

chief city at the nod of aliens. And then he will observe a feature more

significant still: a house with some concourse of affairs, policemen and

idlers hanging by, a man at a bank-counter overhauling manifests, perhaps

a trial proceeding in the front verandah, or perhaps the council breaking

up in knots after a stormy sitting. And he will remember that he is in

the _Eleele Sa_, the "Forbidden Soil," or Neutral Territory of the

treaties; that the magistrate whom he has just seen trying native

criminals is no officer of the native king's; and that this, the only

port and place of business in the kingdom, collects and administers its

own revenue for its own behoof by the hands of white councillors and

under the supervision of white consuls. Let him go further afield. He

will find the roads almost everywhere to cease or to be made impassable

by native pig-fences, bridges to be quite unknown, and houses of the

whites to become at once a rare exception. Set aside the German

plantations, and the frontier is sharp. At the boundary of the _Eleele

Sa_, Europe ends, Samoa begins. Here, then, is a singular state of

affairs: all the money, luxury, and business of the kingdom centred in

one place; that place excepted from the native government and

administered by whites for whites; and the whites themselves holding it

not in common but in hostile camps, so that it lies between them like a

bone between two dogs, each growling, each clutching his own end.

Should Apia ever choose a coat of arms, I have a motto ready: "Enter

Rumour painted full of tongues." The majority of the natives do

extremely little; the majority of the whites are merchants with some four

mails in the month, shopkeepers with some ten or twenty customers a day,

and gossip is the common resource of all. The town hums to the day's

news, and the bars are crowded with amateur politicians. Some are office-

seekers, and earwig king and consul, and compass the fall of officials,

with an eye to salary. Some are humorists, delighted with the pleasure

of faction for itself. "I never saw so good a place as this Apia," said

one of these; "you can be in a new conspiracy every day!" Many, on the

other hand, are sincerely concerned for the future of the country. The

quarters are so close and the scale is so small, that perhaps not any one

can be trusted always to preserve his temper. Every one tells everything

he knows; that is our country sickness. Nearly every one has been

betrayed at times, and told a trifle more; the way our sickness takes the

predisposed. And the news flies, and the tongues wag, and fists are

shaken. Pot boil and caldron bubble!

Within the memory of man, the white people of Apia lay in the worst

squalor of degradation. They are now unspeakably improved, both men and

women. To-day they must be called a more than fairly respectable

population, and a much more than fairly intelligent. The whole would

probably not fill the ranks of even an English half-battalion, yet there

are a surprising number above the average in sense, knowledge, and

manners. The trouble (for Samoa) is that they are all here after a

livelihood. Some are sharp practitioners, some are famous (justly or

not) for foul play in business. Tales fly. One merchant warns you

against his neighbour; the neighbour on the first occasion is found to

return the compliment: each with a good circumstantial story to the

proof. There is so much copra in the islands, and no more; a man's share

of it is his share of bread; and commerce, like politics, is here

narrowed to a focus, shows its ugly side, and becomes as personal as

fisticuffs. Close at their elbows, in all this contention, stands the

native looking on. Like a child, his true analogue, he observes,

apprehends, misapprehends, and is usually silent. As in a child, a

considerable intemperance of speech is accompanied by some power of

secrecy. News he publishes; his thoughts have often to be dug for. He

looks on at the rude career of the dollar-hunt, and wonders. He sees

these men rolling in a luxury beyond the ambition of native kings; he

hears them accused by each other of the meanest trickery; he knows some

of them to be guilty; and what is he to think? He is strongly conscious

of his own position as the common milk-cow; and what is he to do? "Surely

these white men on the beach are not great chiefs?" is a common question,

perhaps asked with some design of flattering the person questioned. And

one, stung by the last incident into an unusual flow of English, remarked

to me: "I begin to be weary of white men on the beach."

But the true centre of trouble, the head of the boil of which Samoa

languishes, is the German firm. From the conditions of business, a great

island house must ever be an inheritance of care; and it chances that the

greatest still afoot has its chief seat in Apia bay, and has sunk the

main part of its capital in the island of Upolu. When its founder, John

Caesar Godeffroy, went bankrupt over Russian paper and Westphalian iron,

his most considerable asset was found to be the South Sea business. This

passed (I understand) through the hands of Baring Brothers in London, and

is now run by a company rejoicing in the Gargantuan name of the _Deutsche

Handels und Plantagen Gesellschaft fur Sud-See Inseln zu Hamburg_. This

piece of literature is (in practice) shortened to the D. H. and P. G.,

the Old Firm, the German Firm, the Firm, and (among humorists) the Long

Handle Firm. Even from the deck of an approaching ship, the island is

seen to bear its signature--zones of cultivation showing in a more vivid

tint of green on the dark vest of forest. The total area in use is near

ten thousand acres. Hedges of fragrant lime enclose, broad avenues

intersect them. You shall walk for hours in parks of palm-tree alleys,

regular, like soldiers on parade; in the recesses of the hills you may

stumble on a mill-house, toiling and trembling there, fathoms deep in

superincumbent forest. On the carpet of clean sward, troops of horses

and herds of handsome cattle may be seen to browse; and to one accustomed

to the rough luxuriance of the tropics, the appearance is of fairyland.

The managers, many of them German sea-captains, are enthusiastic in their

new employment. Experiment is continually afoot: coffee and cacao, both

of excellent quality, are among the more recent outputs; and from one

plantation quantities of pineapples are sent at a particular season to

the Sydney markets. A hundred and fifty thousand pounds of English

money, perhaps two hundred thousand, lie sunk in these magnificent

estates. In estimating the expense of maintenance quite a fleet of ships

must be remembered, and a strong staff of captains, supercargoes,

overseers, and clerks. These last mess together at a liberal board; the

wages are high, and the staff is inspired with a strong and pleasing

sentiment of loyalty to their employers.

Seven or eight hundred imported men and women toil for the company on

contracts of three or of five years, and at a hypothetical wage of a few

dollars in the month. I am now on a burning question: the labour

traffic; and I shall ask permission in this place only to touch it with

the tongs. Suffice it to say that in Queensland, Fiji, New Caledonia,

and Hawaii it has been either suppressed or placed under close public

supervision. In Samoa, where it still flourishes, there is no regulation

of which the public receives any evidence; and the dirty linen of the

firm, if there be any dirty, and if it be ever washed at all, is washed

in private. This is unfortunate, if Germans would believe it. But they

have no idea of publicity, keep their business to themselves, rather

affect to "move in a mysterious way," and are naturally incensed by

criticisms, which they consider hypocritical, from men who would import

"labour" for themselves, if they could afford it, and would probably

maltreat them if they dared. It is said the whip is very busy on some of

the plantations; it is said that punitive extra-labour, by which the

thrall's term of service is extended, has grown to be an abuse; and it is

complained that, even where that term is out, much irregularity occurs in

the repatriation of the discharged. To all this I can say nothing, good

or bad. A certain number of the thralls, many of them wild negritos from

the west, have taken to the bush, harbour there in a state partly

bestial, or creep into the back quarters of the town to do a day's

stealthy labour under the nose of their proprietors. Twelve were

arrested one morning in my own boys' kitchen. Farther in the bush, huts,

small patches of cultivation, and smoking ovens, have been found by

hunters. There are still three runaways in the woods of Tutuila, whither

they escaped upon a raft. And the Samoans regard these dark-skinned

rangers with extreme alarm; the fourth refugee in Tutuila was shot down

(as I was told in that island) while carrying off the virgin of a

village; and tales of cannibalism run round the country, and the natives

shudder about the evening fire. For the Samoans are not cannibals, do

not seem to remember when they were, and regard the practice with a

disfavour equal to our own.

The firm is Gulliver among the Lilliputs; and it must not be forgotten,

that while the small, independent traders are fighting for their own

hand, and inflamed with the usual jealousy against corporations, the

Germans are inspired with a sense of the greatness of their affairs and

interests. The thought of the money sunk, the sight of these costly and

beautiful plantations, menaced yearly by the returning forest, and the

responsibility of administering with one hand so many conjunct fortunes,

might well nerve the manager of such a company for desperate and

questionable deeds. Upon this scale, commercial sharpness has an air of

patriotism; and I can imagine the man, so far from haggling over the

scourge for a few Solomon islanders, prepared to oppress rival firms,

overthrow inconvenient monarchs, and let loose the dogs of war. Whatever

he may decide, he will not want for backing. Every clerk will be eager

to be up and strike a blow; and most Germans in the group, whatever they

may babble of the firm over the walnuts and the wine, will rally round

the national concern at the approach of difficulty. They are so few--I

am ashamed to give their number, it were to challenge contradiction--they

are so few, and the amount of national capital buried at their feet is so

vast, that we must not wonder if they seem oppressed with greatness and

the sense of empire. Other whites take part in our brabbles, while

temper holds out, with a certain schoolboy entertainment. In the Germans

alone, no trace of humour is to be observed, and their solemnity is

accompanied by a touchiness often beyond belief. Patriotism flies in

arms about a hen; and if you comment upon the colour of a Dutch umbrella,

you have cast a stone against the German Emperor. I give one instance,

typical although extreme. One who had returned from Tutuila on the mail

cutter complained of the vermin with which she is infested. He was

suddenly and sharply brought to a stand. The ship of which he spoke, he

was reminded, was a German ship.

John Caesar Godeffroy himself had never visited the islands; his sons and

nephews came, indeed, but scarcely to reap laurels; and the mainspring

and headpiece of this great concern, until death took him, was a certain

remarkable man of the name of Theodor Weber. He was of an artful and

commanding character; in the smallest thing or the greatest, without fear

or scruple; equally able to affect, equally ready to adopt, the most

engaging politeness or the most imperious airs of domination. It was he

who did most damage to rival traders; it was he who most harried the

Samoans; and yet I never met any one, white or native, who did not

respect his memory. All felt it was a gallant battle, and the man a

great fighter; and now when he is dead, and the war seems to have gone

against him, many can scarce remember, without a kind of regret, how much

devotion and audacity have been spent in vain. His name still lives in

the songs of Samoa. One, that I have heard, tells of _Misi Ueba_ and a

biscuit-box--the suggesting incident being long since forgotten. Another

sings plaintively how all things, land and food and property, pass

progressively, as by a law of nature, into the hands of _Misi Ueba_, and

soon nothing will be left for Samoans. This is an epitaph the man would

have enjoyed.

At one period of his career, Weber combined the offices of director of

the firm and consul for the City of Hamburg. No question but he then

drove very hard. Germans admit that the combination was unfortunate; and

it was a German who procured its overthrow. Captain Zembsch superseded

him with an imperial appointment, one still remembered in Samoa as "the

gentleman who acted justly." There was no house to be found, and the new

consul must take up his quarters at first under the same roof with Weber.

On several questions, in which the firm was vitally interested, Zembsch

embraced the contrary opinion. Riding one day with an Englishman in

Vailele plantation, he was startled by a burst of screaming, leaped from

the saddle, ran round a house, and found an overseer beating one of the

thralls. He punished the overseer, and, being a kindly and perhaps not a

very diplomatic man, talked high of what he felt and what he might

consider it his duty to forbid or to enforce. The firm began to look

askance at such a consul; and worse was behind. A number of deeds being

brought to the consulate for registration, Zembsch detected certain

transfers of land in which the date, the boundaries, the measure, and the

consideration were all blank. He refused them with an indignation which

he does not seem to have been able to keep to himself; and, whether or

not by his fault, some of these unfortunate documents became public. It

was plain that the relations between the two flanks of the German

invasion, the diplomatic and the commercial, were strained to bursting.

But Weber was a man ill to conquer. Zembsch was recalled; and from that

time forth, whether through influence at home, or by the solicitations of

Weber on the spot, the German consulate has shown itself very apt to play

the game of the German firm. That game, we may say, was twofold,--the

first part even praiseworthy, the second at least natural. On the one

part, they desired an efficient native administration, to open up the

country and punish crime; they wished, on the other, to extend their own

provinces and to curtail the dealings of their rivals. In the first,

they had the jealous and diffident sympathy of all whites; in the second,

they had all whites banded together against them for their lives and

livelihoods. It was thus a game of _Beggar my Neighbour_ between a large

merchant and some small ones. Had it so remained, it would still have

been a cut-throat quarrel. But when the consulate appeared to be

concerned, when the war-ships of the German Empire were thought to fetch

and carry for the firm, the rage of the independent traders broke beyond

restraint. And, largely from the national touchiness and the intemperate

speech of German clerks, this scramble among dollar-hunters assumed the

appearance of an inter-racial war.

The firm, with the indomitable Weber at its head and the consulate at its

back--there has been the chief enemy at Samoa. No English reader can

fail to be reminded of John Company; and if the Germans appear to have

been not so successful, we can only wonder that our own blunders and

brutalities were less severely punished. Even on the field of Samoa,

though German faults and aggressors make up the burthen of my story, they

have been nowise alone. Three nations were engaged in this infinitesimal

affray, and not one appears with credit. They figure but as the three

ruffians of the elder play-wrights. The United States have the cleanest

hands, and even theirs are not immaculate. It was an ambiguous business

when a private American adventurer was landed with his pieces of

artillery from an American war-ship, and became prime minister to the

king. It is true (even if he were ever really supported) that he was

soon dropped and had soon sold himself for money to the German firm. I

will leave it to the reader whether this trait dignifies or not the

wretched story. And the end of it spattered the credit alike of England

and the States, when this man (the premier of a friendly sovereign) was

kidnapped and deported, on the requisition of an American consul, by the

captain of an English war-ship. I shall have to tell, as I proceed, of

villages shelled on very trifling grounds by Germans; the like has been

done of late years, though in a better quarrel, by ourselves of England.

I shall have to tell how the Germans landed and shed blood at Fangalii;

it was only in 1876 that we British had our own misconceived little

massacre at Mulinuu. I shall have to tell how the Germans bludgeoned

Malietoa with a sudden call for money; it was something of the suddenest

that Sir Arthur Gordon himself, smarting under a sensible public affront,

made and enforced a somewhat similar demand.

A Footnote to History: Eight Years of Trouble in Samoa · 第 2 / 11 章