The Protector therefore announces, that as 'he knows by experience, that nothing but the Sword will restrain the late King's party from blood and violence,'—'We do now not only find Ourselves satisfied, but obliged in duty, both towards God and this Nation, to proceed upon other grounds than formerly,'—and that, to secure 'the Peace of this Commonwealth, We have been necessitated to erect a new and standing Militia of Horse, in all the Counties of England, under such Pay as might be a fitting encouragement to the officers and soldiers. And We, therefore, have thought fit, to lay the burthen of Maintaining those forces, upon those who have been engaged in the late Wars against the State.' And Cromwell declares, in conclusion, that 'We can with comfort appeal to God, whether this way of proceeding with 'the Royalists' hath been the matter of Our Choice, or that which We have sought occasion for; or whether contrary to Our own inclinations, We have not been constrained and necessitated hereunto, and without the doing whereof, We should have been wanting to Our Duty to God and these Nations.'

Such words uttered by a man who, with utmost fervour, has claimed for himself, that 'I have learned too much of God, to dally with Him, and to make bold with Him in these things,' ought surely to be believed; and if there be any one who is still unconvinced that Cromwell, of his own 'choice,' enticed the Earl of Rochester and his associates across the Channel, and admitted them into England, that they might constrain and necessitate him to appoint those Major-Generals, 'we can with comfort appeal' to that 'Declaration' and ask such a believer in Cromwell to follow us in a comparison between what he really did, with what he declared he did, 'for securing the Peace of the Commonwealth upon the occasion of the late Insurrection.'

In order that his subjects might appreciate the skill and vigilance, by which the 'contrivements' of the 'cruel and bloody enemy had been thwarted, Cromwell commenced the account of his execution of his duty as England's Protecter by a general description of the projects of the Royalists in March 1655. He asserted that they intended to surprise and seize London, and all the principal ports and cities throughout England, and that they reckoned on the support of more than 30,000 armed men. This description of the projects and resources of the Royalists may be at once, and contemptuously set aside: it was founded upon lies supplied by such men as Manning, the spy, or Bamfield, the informer. Cromwell's words were contradicted by the abortive and petty nature of the insurrection, by the obvious refusal of all England to join in the enterprise, and by the conduct of the Protector himself. For he would not have placed England at the mercy of the Earl of Rochester and his companions, had he thought that they could call 30,000 men to arms, or that every important town from London to York, was in danger. Having thus dealt out fiction by wholesale, and ascribed the overthrow of that 'great and general design' to 'The Lord,' Cromwell proceeds, according to this method, to show how that was accomplished.

Beginning with the rising at Salisbury, he declared that

'the Insurrection in the West was bold and dangerous in itself, and had in all likelihood increased to great Numbers of Horse and Foot by the conjunction of others of their own party, besides such Foreign forces, as in case of their success, and seizing upon some place of Strength, were to have landed in those parts, had they not been prevented by the motion of some troops, and diligence of the officers, in apprehending divers of that Party a few days before; and also been closely pursued by some of our Forces, and in the conclusion supprest by a handful of men, through the great goodness of God.'

As Charles had not at his disposal a single ship, or one soldier in the pay of any foreign Power, the possibility of a foreign invasion needs no disproof. And how did Cromwell deal with his enemies at home? Shortly before the rising of the 11th of March, troops were undoubtedly moved about in Wiltshire: their course can be traced from day to day. As the Protector, according to his habit, bases his statements as far as he can, on facts, so far we can agree with him. But as certainly as they were marched about, Cromwell's soldiers were marched not towards, but away from Salisbury.

During the latter part of February, Major Butler, the officer in charge over Wiltshire, wrote to Thurloe, telling him that as Bristol was in 'a peaceable state,' the Major intended to leave that city. He did so: just eleven days before the outbreak he was on the march to his central station, at Marlborough, when a messenger from the Protector, summoned him back to Bristol. Butler was, in consequence, detained there, whilst the event took place; nor did he reach Salisbury until the third day after the insurgents had left the town. Cromwell knew what he was about: on the very Sunday when Wagstaff took possession of Salisbury, Cromwell occupied Chichester by horsemen, sent there at daybreak; and he dispatched a warning to Portsmouth, that 'some desperate design was on foot.' But he kept his soldiers away from Salisbury. He took this course, although he knew that Salisbury Plain had been named as a Levellers' rendezvous; and although he had received a report, about three weeks before the 11th of March, from an officer sent to Salisbury on police duty, 'that it would be convenient for some horse to be quartered hereabouts,'[46] because the Royalists in the neighbourhood were restless.

And Cromwell himself proves why Major Butler was detained at Bristol: for when he did reach the scene of the revolt, though the insurgents had been two days at large in the neighbourhood, and were disbanding, drifting aimlessly towards Devonshire, Butler was withheld from active operations by orders from Whitehall. He was directed to keep at a distance from the insurgents for fear of a mishap. This is shown by the opening words of Butler's letter of remonstrance to the Protector. 'Now, my Lord,' Butler wrote, 'though I know it would be of sad consequence if we assaulting them should be worsted,' still, he pleaded with much earnestness that he, under 'the good providence of The Lord' would assuredly be successful. So palpably absurd it was to suppose that his four troops of horsemen could not make short work of that undisciplined, badly armed, and disheartened band of men, that Butler declared, that he could not 'with any confidence stay' here at Salisbury, 'nor look the country in the face, and let them alone.''[47]

The Protector, however, was resolute. Butler was forced to let the enemy alone; and, after four days' delay, they yielded at South Molton to one troop of horse sent after them from Weymouth. Thus it was Cromwell, and not Butler, as was surmised by a contemporary observer, who kept his troopers 'at a distance in the rear' of the Royalists, 'to give them an opportunity of increasing.'[48]

With this suspicion afloat, and Major Butler unable 'to look the country in the face,' Cromwell felt that to ascribe the suppression of Wagstaff's attempt mainly to the 'close' pursuit of the enemy 'by some of Our Forces,' would hardly suffice. He accordingly also attributed that happy result 'to the goodness of God,' and to 'the diligence of the officers in apprehending some of the party.' In this statement Cromwell made some approach to the truth. Butler had been diligent; and though he failed to seize Douthwait, that mysterious 'principal verb', still, during the last two weeks of February, he did arrest suspects in the West of England, but none within the district round Salisbury.[49] Wagstaff and his comrades were undisturbed, whilst preparing for their attempt. Nor is it an unfounded assumption, if their security is attributed to the same influence which sanctioned Wagstaff's repair to the rendezvous, and which protected him from Major Butler's horsemen.

Having thus dealt with that 'bold and dangerous insurrection in the West,' Cromwell turned northward, and took in hand that rather vague affair at Marston Moor, on which, as he asserted, 'the enemy most relied.' His account of that event was, that the Royalists who met there dispersed and ran away in confusion, partly because of a failure among the plotters; but also, 'in respect that Our Forces, by their marching up and down in the country, and some of them providentially, at that time, removing their Quarters, near to the place of Rendezvous, gave them no opportunity to reassemble.' Again, Cromwell is, to a certain extent, correct. Divided counsels did keep one of the principal Yorkshire Royalists from the meeting, and he may have had followers; and others were stayed, when on the march, by a timely warning that they were on a fool's errand. But the assertion, that the Royalists were dispersed by a providential movement of troops, and by 'Our Forces marching up and down' Yorkshire, is utterly false. And, as before, the witness against Cromwell is one of Cromwell's servants. An officer, responsible for the peace of Yorkshire, reported to his chief in London regarding himself and his comrades, that 'notwithstanding all our frequent alarums from London of the certainty of this plot, carried on with such secrecy on the traitor's part, though we were upon duty, and in close quarters, we had no positive notice of it till the day was past.' And no other soldiers were in that neighbourhood during the night of the 8th of March. The only martial display that the occasion called forth, was the march of two troops of horsemen into York about three or four days subsequently; and the officer in command reported that if more men were wanted, they must be drawn from Durham, Newark, or Hull.[50]

Thus it was that Cromwell dealt with 'the Insurrection of Yorkshire.' If the Royalists had, in truth, 'reckoned on 8000 in the North,' or if York had been in danger, soldiers, and not 'alarums' would have been sent into Yorkshire. Nor was he mistaken in deeming that the Royalists relied most on that attempt. Hoping to find a large gathering of Levellers in arms against the Protector, many of the principal Yorkshire landowners, of higher rank and more influential than poor Penruddock or any of his comrades, met that night on Marston Moor. And probably it was owing to their social position, that the trick was not fully played out, and that, sorely to Cromwell's disappointment, they saved their lives.

Besides the insurrectionary displays at Salisbury and Marston Moor, it was arranged that on the 8th of March similar symptoms should appear in various other places, to create the idea that 'the Design was great and general.' Cromwell was accordingly able to declare that 'the coming of 300 foot from Berwick' dispersed 'those who had rendezvoused near Morpeth to surprise Newcastle:'—that in North Wales and Shropshire, where they intended to surprise Shrewsbury, 'some of the chief persons being apprehended, the rest fled:'—and that, 'at Rufford Abbey, Notts, was another rendezvous, where about 500 horse met, and had with them a cart load of horse-arms, to arm such as should come to them; but upon a sudden, a great Fear fell upon them,' and they, also, dispersed themselves, and 'cast their arms into the pond.' Nor did the Protector omit to describe the action of 'other smaller Parties,' also in motion during the night of the 8th of March, who, 'as in the Town of Chester designed the surprise of the Castle there, but they, failing in their expectations, were discouraged for that time.' 'And thus by the goodness of God, these hidden works of darkness' were discovered. 'Fear' was 'put into the hearts' of the cruel and bloody enemy, and their great and most dangerous design was 'defeated, and brought to nothing.'

The depositions on which Cromwell based his description of the minor passages of the Insurrection are all mere informers' tales, none rising above the inanity of the story of a tobacco-pipe-maker's attack on Chester Castle, of which more anon; and, from Carlyle's point of view, this sample of Thurloe's papers might assuredly be classed among 'human stupidities.' But Carlyle has overlooked the fact, that to Cromwell these depositions were an important element in his government, and were worked up into his speeches and the 'Declaration of October 1655. Hence the greater the absurdity of those documents, the greater their historical importance, as showing, not only how the Royalists were duped, and how Cromwell duped his subjects, but also that the tricks of his trepanners were so clumsy that, almost without exception' no Cavaliers of any standing were drawn into the Protector's game.

An apt example of the kind of evidence on which Cromwell based his statements, and also a comical illustration of his propensity to cling to fact in the midst of fraud, is afforded by that alleged 'rendezvous' of Royalists 'to surprise Newcastle.' If his spies are to be believed, presumably with that object, on the 8th of March, 'about 3 score and 10 horsemen armed with swords and pistols' met by night 'at a place called Duddo;' and then vanished, not, however, for fear 'of 300 foot coming from Berwick,' but because the conspirators were warned 'that there was 300 sail of ships come into Newcastle, for fear of whom they durst not fall upon Newcastle at that time.' Much in the same way, and during the same night, a party of Royalist gentlemen and their servants, repaired to the inn on Rufford Abbey Green; and a real cart was driven to the door containing 'horse-arms,' fifty-six pair of pistols, two buff coats, two suits of arms, &c., and was then driven away, and the party broke up. So far the Protector's words are verified by the very full information that Thurloe collected regarding the Rufford Abbey incident; but if to the conspirators therein specifically mentioned, a large addition be made for 'divers unnamed gentlemen,' seen 'coming in and going out of the inn-door,' the plotters cannot be rated at much above 20, instead of at Cromwell's 500.

The Protector's concluding statements may be briefly disposed of. Shrewsbury Castle was to have been taken by 'two men in the apparel of gentlewomen,' acting in combination with their comrades, 'in certain alehouses near unto the said castle;' and the determined purpose of these plotters may be tested by the temper of their ringleader, who urged his recruits to appear at the rendezvous, but refused for his part, to join with them, 'because his wife was not well.'[51] The Shropshire insurrection was, indeed, of so visionary a nature, that zealous Commissary Reynolds could not manipulate it into any definite shape. Though sent to Shrewsbury that he might develop the existence of 'a general plot of the malignants' in the West of England, he entirely failed. And so annoyed was he at his failure, that he suggests to Thurloe, that it would 'not to be unfit to make' the malignants 'speak forcibly, by tying matches, or some kind of pain, whereby they may be made to discover the plot;' and as he re-urges his craving to inflict torture on his prisoners, the proposal had drawn no disapproval from the Secretary.[52]

An account of the 'great and signal disappointment, as great as any this age can produce,' which the 'goodness of God' inflicted upon that 'smaller party,' 'who' according to Cromwell, 'designed the surprise of the castle' of Chester, forms an appropriate close to this portion of our narrative. An 'exceeding poor' dupe, Francis Pickering, tells the story, and the duper was a Colonel Worthing. After enticing Pickering into the plot by assurances of a general rising against the Protector, on the night of the 8th of March, Worthing announced that his part in the design 'was principally to surprise the Castle of Chester;' and as related by Pickering, while he and the Colonel remained quietly at home.

'Accordingly that night three or four went, sent by Col. Worthing' to seize the Castle: they were all inhabitants of Chester, and one of them is commonly known by the name of Alexander, the tobacco-pipe-maker. These persons brought back word to Col. Worthing that at the place where they intended to raise a ladder to surprise the Castle, they heard a sentinel walk and cough. At which report Col. Worthing was very much startled! and sent them back again to seize any other convenient place; and they brought back word that they had centinels walking.'[53]

No third attempt was made by Mr. Alexander and his friends; and next day Pickering was told by Worthing 'that he was much troubled, for that he could not contrive how to take said Castle;' and, in due time, Pickering found himself in custody.

In singular contrast to the vague and absurd stories told by 'exceeding poor' and foolish men, such as Mr. Pickering and his fellow plotters, are the numerous and positive assurances that Cromwell received from his own officers, that all was well with England both before, during, and after the Insurrection of March 1655. Headed by Thurloe, they are all unanimous in reporting 'that the nation was much more ready to rise against, than for Charles Stuart;' that, in the town of Leeds, 'not thirty men were disaffected to the present Government;' and that 'there was no design on foot' even in 'the most corrupt and rotten places of the Nation,' such as Hampshire, Dorsetshire, Kent, and the Eastern Counties. From Bristol to York all was quiet, or wished to be so, during February, March, and April, 1655.[54]

Further illustration of this statement is needless. For, if Cromwell had thought otherwise, even though he might in his wisdom have admitted the Earl of Rochester and his associates into England, he certainly would not have allowed them to remain here, apparently as long as they chose, after their enterprise was over. That the Protector gave them this freedom of action is made singularly clear by the Thurloe Papers': they contain repeated indications of the 'whereabouts' of the Earl of Rochester, the leader of the revolt. He and Major Armourer did not, after the Marston Moor failure, fly to the coast, or seek separate hiding-places. They journeyed together, with two servants, leisurely through England towards London: and to guard his safety, Rochester would not disturb his bedtime, or his dinner-hour. After the outbreak, people were naturally anxious to pick up what they could, by arresting 'the great ones.' Of these, Rochester was the greatest; and he and Armourer were arrested at Aylesbury. The resident magistrate gave a warrant to the constable, desiring him to keep safely the bodies of the Earl and his three companions, 'in the name of my Lord Protector.' The warrant was acted upon; the prisoners evidently were 'persons of great quality.' Yet somehow, both magistrate and constable left the Earl and the Major in charge of the innkeeper 'where they lay;' and naturally enough, 'when the constable came in the morning, he found that the innkeeper had let the two chiefs escape,' taking with them 'all their rich apparel.'[55] Had this been merely a sample of Aylesbury carelessness, the incident need not have been noticed. But the example of the magistrate and constable was followed by Cromwell. Although the escape of Rochester and Armourer was promptly known, and their course was closely tracked, and though Cromwell was informed where they might be found, they 'wrote very comfortably from London;' and they endeavoured 'to lay the foundation of some new design.' And at last, as if he were an ordinary traveller, sending his servants before him, Rochester left England for the Continent, having been a resident here for about five months; and the latter part of his stay in England was a season of extraordinary severity against the Royalists. In like manner, every one of his thirteen comrades returned 'weekly without difficulty' to their King's presence, apparently at their pleasure; whilst Cromwell's continental informers repeated their warnings that 'Day, the Clerk of the Passage,' is 'a rogue,' and that if the Protector had 'been ruled' by them 'all these had not escaped.'[56]

In this matter, and indeed throughout his connection with the Insurrection of March 1655, Cromwell was not his own master. The conditions under which he obtained the espial of one of the King's most trusted friends, and a member of the 'Sealed Knot,' formed a complete protection to the Earl of Rochester and his associates. Nor for his own sake could he touch those conspirators. Their seizure would have disclosed the fact, that 'persons in the very bosom of our enemies' gave him 'intelligence;' and hence, if 'he once discovered the grounds, he would destroy the intelligence.'[57] Anyhow, it is evident that Cromwell could with entire safety allow his most determined enemies to remain in England, and lay foundations for new projects against him.

Having seen Cromwell's conspirators safe home again, tribute must be paid to his amazing dexterity. The Prince of Wire-Pullers, he made his puppets perform what part he chose. Some jerked the royal doll Charles, against his liking, from Cologne to Middleburg, and some warned him to keep quiet, and others seemed to fight against the manager of the show, though in reality they fought in his behalf: all played Cromwell's game, whilst they thought they were playing their own; and even the most innocent outsiders were pressed into his service. With comic audacity he assured his audience that the more trivial was the scene at Salisbury, the more they ought to recognize its dramatic force. 'Observe,' he said, 'when this Attempt was made—it was made when nothing but a well-formed Power could hope to put us into disorder. Do you think that' such a company of mean fellows 'would have attacked Us, if they had not been supported by vast unseen forces behind the scenes.'[58] With what cruel craft, but seeming indifference, the artful old showman treated his manikins! He cut off the heads of some amongst those who responded most vigorously to his touch; whilst others, not less free upon the wire, were carefully packed up, and sent home safe. By seizing and boxing up in the Tower mere bystanders, wholly unconcerned in the sport, he made his 'little tin soldiers' fancy that he did not see their antics. The only hitch in his 'knavish piece of work' arose when, too assured, he placed upon the boards a real live judge, who refused to take the bench in the manager's sham Court of Justice. In every other respect the mystery play was a complete success; everybody was puzzled, players, spectators, and the gentlemen of the press; not one even guessed at the true meaning of the performance; though a few 'men of wicked spirits' would try to peep behind the curtain. But they never found him out; they all danced to Cromwell's tune, but none discovered that the pipe they heard was in their Protector's mouth. Even Ludlow, with all the proverbial opportunities of a bystander, though most anxious to know his great opponent's game, never guessed that he had patched up the Insurrection of March 1655, from the beginning to the end.

And such was Cromwell's power of deception, that though dead, he still deceived; his works did follow him, as he desired, out of sight. He seems to have anticipated that the records of his detective department might remain as a witness against him, and to have cast over the 'Thurloe Papers' a spell, that has hitherto rendered them invisible. For nearly 150 years these evidences of his 'hidden works of darkness' have been before the world; but Cromwell has preserved his secret; he has humbugged every historian as effectually as he hoodwinked his contemporaries. The 'Thurloe Papers' were published in 1742, well edited and indexed; they contain the documents which Cromwell himself read and handled, the notes of his speeches, the information of his spies, the letters of his enemies and of his clerks. Though called after Thurloe, those papers are, in fact, Cromwell's own. Yet such is the glamour that he has cast over all that has approached him, that they have accepted his words without question, or, if they have read his writings, they have read them according to his inspiration.

Yet there was much even in that Insurrection itself to arouse suspicion. Cromwell, in January 1655, assured his Parliament that he had crushed the various conspiracies which were then on foot against him, all most 'real dangers,' and that he had disarmed and rendered powerless those conspirators; yet within six weeks they had organized a universal revolt, and had secreted stores of arms and ammunition all over England. This universal revolt broke out at Salisbury, 'bold and dangerous'; and it was put down by a single troop of horsemen, after the rebels had paraded, disheartened and deserted, across England. Except on that occasion, the vast design was suppressed without the aid of a single soldier or even a beadle. And, strangely enough, the Protector himself supplied a hint which might have provoked some curiosity about the nature of that 'Rebellion.'

For surely it is odd that 'such a terrible Protector this; no getting of him overset!' should have been compelled to contend with the notorious and obstinate incredulity of the members of his Parliament regarding the late attempt to overset him? Yet Cromwell's speech of September 1656 is pervaded with expressions such as these, regarding the 'bold and dangerous Insurrection' of March 1655,—'I think the world must know and acknowledge, that it was a general design,'—'I doubt if it be believed, that there was any rising,' either in North Wales or at Shrewsbury, or on Marston Moor, 'at the very time when there was an Insurrection at Salisbury'—' therefore, how men of wicked spirits may traduce Us in that matter—I leave it!'[59] Surely 'sluggish mortals, saved from destruction,' not caused by secret agencies, but from an actual 'Rebellion,' which threatened to bring every one of them into 'blood and confusion,' need not be required to believe in the very existence of so great and conspicuous a danger!

And Cromwell felt that he could not afford to leave that 'matter' untouched. A suspicion was prevalent, during the whole of Cromwell's reign, that plots were manufactured to suit his purposes. He knew that full well; he knew also the danger of such a suspicion. The surmises of the 'men of wicked spirits,' were those 'half tales,' that 'be truths.' It had been hoped that such a 'real plot' as 'the late Insurrection,' would give that suspicion a quietus. When it was safely transacted, Thurloe and his associates congratulated each other over that hope.[60] But it was not fulfilled. Hence arises the tone of angered honesty, which Cromwell so repeatedly assumed when he addressed his Parliament, and Carlyle's indignant protest—'What a position for a hero, to be reduced continually to say he does not lie!'

But what was Cromwell's motive in the fabrication of this Insurrection of March, 1655? It was not, as might be suggested, a device to thwart by a premature explosion, a dangerous conspiracy during a critical moment in the Protectorate. Cromwell himself asserts in his 'Declaration,' that 'this Attempt was made, when nothing but a well-formed Power could hope to put Us into disorder; Scotland and Ireland being perfectly reduced; Differences with most Neighbour Nations composed; our Forces, both by Sea and Land, in order and consistency.' Nay, he artfully converted the very security of his Government into a proof that 'the pretended King' would not have sent over his servants, and that the Royalists would not 'have actually risen' at Salisbury, had the insurrection been other than 'a general design,' based on a vast secret organization. No one in all England possessed more certain knowledge, than did Cromwell, that such was not the case, and that he could not plead in his behalf the poor excuse, that the Nation as a Nation needed a severe lesson, or that it was to save England from civil war that he had sacrificed the lives of those fourteen victims of his deception, and consigned that band of seventy or eighty Englishmen to the horrors of West Indian slavery.

But if Cromwell could not claim that excuse, what then was his motive? Dark as was the light within him, he was not in such utter darkness as to encompass himself about with written, spoken, and acted lies merely to gratify caprice, or that he might indulge in causeless cruelty. His motive was a very simple one. He was forced to obey his servant, the Army. The men whom he had made, and who had made him, demanded a visible share in the power and profit that he enjoyed. Reverting to the autumn of 1654, much had then occurred to disquiet the Army. Cromwell had taken a distinct step towards Kingship, by attempting to persuade Parliament to make the Protectorate hereditary. Parliament had made a distinct movement towards a large reduction in the Army and Navy. If rumour be evidence, there was, during November, 'a great division in the army.' And it is certain that, at the close of that month, Cromwell and his military men came to terms. At a meeting held in St. James's Palace, the staff of the army agreed 'to live and die with Cromwell.'[61] And a train of events, occurring in direct sequence after that meeting, proves that it was at this conjuncture that Cromwell agreed to parcel out his Protectorship among the leading officers of the Army. Parliament was dissolved 22nd January, 1655, on the pretext that under its shadow, conspiracy and discontent had thriven; and Cromwell gave an alarming account of the 'real dangers,' of imminent insurrection and anarchy, that threatened England. That speech was the prologue; then came the tragedy itself, the Insurrection of March, 1655; then came its consequence, the appointment of the Major-Generals. And in the end, the reason why they were appointed, was brought to light by a state of affairs, very identical with that which had raised them to power.

Cromwell had renewed the attempt that he had made in the autumn of 1654, and in his quest after Kingship he had come, during February 1657, almost within sight of the throne. Again the army officers interfered; and again Cromwell was forced to meet them face to face; to receive, on this occasion, their protest against his acceptance of the Crown. He made a compromise as he had done before; but in speech, he was not conciliatory. If the Protectorate had been a failure, he told his former comrades, it was their fault. It was they, and not he who had governed; as for himself, 'they had made him their drudge upon all occasions: to dissolve the Long Parliament,' and 'to call a Parliament or Convention of their naming,' which proved so unsuccessful; and then another Parliament, alike in unsuccess; and he concluded that catalogue of their untoward interferences with his government, by reminding his hearers that they thought it was necessary to have Major-Generals; adding that so they 'might have gone on,' if they had not insisted on his calling the Parliament of 1656, against his will, which had given them 'a foil.'[62]

That speech is the most exceptional, in some respects the most important, of all Cromwell's speeches. Spoken if not 'in haste,' certainly 'out of the fulness of the heart,' that is caused by anger, it is, though unusually brief, delightfully incautious. Being addressed to men who could not well be deceived, the speech must be true, at least so far as they are concerned, in every particular; it does not contain a single appeal to God; and of no other among Cromwell's speeches, are the original MS. notes in existence. This speech, of the utmost historic importance, is essentially unheroic in tone and circumstance,—the querulous complaint of a master against servants who have overmastered him,—an assertion of supremacy made by a man, who felt that he was not really supreme. But the singularity that attends the address to the recalcitrant officers is not yet exhausted. Surprise may well be felt that Carlyle, with this speech before him, ventured on the construction of his false image of Cromwell, the Hero. Judged even as an ordinary ruler, he must have been a very sorry Protector who, according to his own showing, was only a sham supreme magistrate,—the minister, the 'drudge,' of his servants but real masters—who had compelled him to call, and to dissolve Parliaments, and to impose on England those military despots.

Carlyle has endowed his ideal Protector 'with the virtue to create belief,' by the force of self-assertion, which still finds its imitators, by pouring out contempt on all who differ from him, and by implying that, as all other Cromwellian authorities are 'stupidities and falsities,' he alone was wise and true. This was but a risky basis on which to exhibit 'this Oliver' to the world, as the noblest Hero 'among the noblest of Human Heroisms, this English Puritanism of ours,' and as 'not a Man of falsehoods, but a Man of truths.' But reading over these words, and calling to mind the confidence with which Carlyle compels all to join with him in his Cromwell-worship, it is impossible to resist the conviction, that it was with good faith that he could see in Cromwell 'the glimpses,' even the revelation 'of the god-like,' and that he would not attend to aught that disclosed Cromwell 'not' as 'august and divine, but hypocritical, pitiable, detestable.' Even though he claimed a familiar acquaintance with the 'Thurloe Papers,' he must have been ignorant, it is impossible to think otherwise, of the black stories which Cromwell's 'expertest of secretaries' could publish against his master.

And passing from the worshipper to the Idol; surely it is but in accordance with common sense and common charity to hope that, as with Carlyle, so also with his Oliver, the real Cromwell was wholly shrouded from Cromwell's sight. That hope might, indeed, be forbidden by some. It might be argued that, although many a wrong-doing, such as bloodshed, oppression, or even treachery, has been committed by men in the sincere belief that they were doing God service, Cromwell cannot be placed among that group of self-deceivers: that he stands by himself, and on a lower level. It was to save himself, to propitiate a gang of mutinous servants, that Cromwell contrived and wrought out the deception of March, 1655, and obtained in the bloodshed that it produced, the essential result that he desired. And then, to give validity to his imposture, to grace it with the Divine sanction, he ascribed his course of acted and uttered lies, and the cruelty and misery they had engendered, to God himself.

Undoubtedly that statement is true. But yet on the other hand it may be pleaded, that nothing but an intense living conviction, that God was with him in all his ways, could have enabled Cromwell to make 'with comfort' his 'appeal to God, whether' the Insurrection of March 1655 'hath been the matter of Our Choice' or 'according to Our own inclinations?'

This is but a sorry plea to urge in Cromwell's behalf. The blackness and the fury of the storm, which roared across England during his dying hours, cannot have exceeded the blinding energy of that strong delusion, that ever drove him onward, through his cruel and crooked devices, fully persuaded that 'God was even such a one as' himself. Though all may agree in believing that it was not from the lips, but truly from the heart—not to cheat his hearers, but in a veritable ecstasy—that Cromwell claimed to stand before God, as one who 'had learned too much of God, to dally with him,' still it must be felt, that such an assertion, coming from such a Protector, reveals a mental condition that baffles the understanding. But as man, when he shrinks from passing judgment on another, ever takes the better part; and as even with the best amongst us, the relation of the soul to God is a question which, of all others, should not be intermeddled with, assuredly we must leave Cromwell, whose being is one of 'the deep things of God,' to His judgment.—'Hell and destruction are before the Lord: how much more then the hearts of the children of men?'

FOOTNOTES:

[30] 'Report of French Ambassador in Holland.' Thurloe, iii. 322.

[31] 'Clarendon' (Bodleian Papers), iii. II.

[32] 'Clarendon,' ed. 1839, 871. 'Clarendon' (Bodleian Papers), Cal. iii. 13 Egerton MSS., Brit. Mus. 2535. fo. 637.

[33] We thus found this conjecture: Cromwell held an intercepted letter from the King to Mr. Roles, addressed to him under his alias, Mr. Upton, expressed in terms of entire confidence (Thurl. iii. 75); but Roles was not arrested. And the suspicion inspired by the immunity which Cromwell granted to such a conspicuous Royalist, was confirmed by finding that Thurloe in a letter (dated 6th April, 1655) to Manning the spy, refers to 'Mr. Upton' as their common friend. (Egerton MSS., Brit. Mus. 2542. fo. 166.)

[34] Masonet. See Note, 'Clarendon Papers' (Bodleian) Cal. iii. 14 Carlyle, iv. 108.

[35] Information of J. Dallington, R. Glover, J. Stradling, E. Turner.' Thurloe iii. 35, 74, 146, 181, 222.

[36] Several Proceedings, &c. Thurs., 8th Feb.—15th Feb. 1655. 'Clarendon Papers' (Bodleian Cal.) iii. 16.

[37] Thurloe, iii. 164.

[38] Thurloe, iii. 137, 180, 190, 198, 224.

[39] Egerton MSS., Brit. Mus. 2535, fo. 637. This communication appears in an anonymous letter addressed to Nicholas. Mr. Warner, with that ready help that he and his department afford, by a comparison of the handwriting, attributes that letter to Col. Price, who shared in Rochester's expedition.

[40] 'Clarendon Papers' (Bodleian), Cal. iii. 23.

[41] Thurloe, iii. 573.

[42] Ibid., iv. 344.

[43] Thurloe, iii. 122, 182. Egerton MSS., Brit. Mus., 2535, fo. 627

[44] Whitlock, 625. Thurloe, iii. 359, 382.

[45] Thurloe, iii. 391.

[46] Thurloe, iii. 162 172, 177, 182, 219, 243, Rolls Cal. (1655), 73.

[47] Thurloe, iii. 238, 243.

[48] Heath's Chronicle, 367.

[49] Thurloe, iii. 176, 181, 191.

[50] 'Rolls Cal.' (1655), p. 216; Baynes Coll., Add. MSS. Brit. Mus. 21,424 fo. 50; Thurloe, iii. 226.

[51] Thurloe, iii. 210, 222, 228, 241, 253.

[52] Ibid., iii. 298, 356. In addition to constant terror of 'the Barbadoes,' to which all Cromwell's prisoners were subject, a Royalist in the Tower mentions, in a pencilled letter, that he had been threatened with torture; and that the Protector himself used the menace of the rack rests on the evidence of another prisoner's brother.—'Clarendon Papers,' Bodleian Cal., iii. 82, 87.

[53] Thurloe, iii. 676.

[54] Pell Coll. Landsdowne MSS., 752. fo. 275, 282. Baynes Coll. Add. MSS. 21, 423, fo. 74. Thurloe, iii. 170, 224, 246, 248, 253, 281, 284. 'Rolls Cal., 1655, 81, 84, 88, 99, 200.

[55] Thurloe, iii. 281, 335.

[56] 'Clarendon Papers,' Bodleian Cal., iii. 27, 34, 36. 'Rolls Cal' (1655), 193, 245. Thurloe, iii. 358, 530, 561, 659.

[57] Whalley's Statement; Burton, iv, 155.

[58] Adapted from the 'Declaration' of Oct. 1655, and Speech. Carlyle, iv. 107, Vol. 162.—No. 324

[59] Carlyle, iv. 108, 111.

[60] Pell Corresp., Landsdowne MSS. Brit. Mus. 752, fo 275, 289. Hist Rec. Comn. 6th Report, 438.

[61] 1 Dec. 1654. Pell Corr., Lans. MSS. Brit. Mus., 752 fo. 215, 220.

[62] 27 Feb. 1657. Burton, i. 383. Carlyle, iv. 177.



Art. VI.—1. Oceana, or England and her Colonies. By James Anthony Froude. London, 1886.

2. Through the British Empire. By Baron von Huebner. 2 vols. London, 1886.

3. The Western Pacific and New Guinea. By Hugh Hastings Romilly, Deputy Commissioner of the Western Pacific. London, 1886.

In days when proposals for the dismemberment of the Empire can be put forward by great leaders of public opinion without exciting either indignation or surprise, it may be worth the while of Englishmen to spend a few hours in making themselves acquainted with the volumes which we have cited at the head of this article. Most men are so absorbed in what is going on immediately under their eyes, that they seldom bestow a thought upon the remoter portions of the vast territory which acknowledge allegiance to the Queen. They have but the most vague ideas, or none at all, concerning the thoughts, wishes, and purposes, of the large and growing communities which sprung from these islands, and which have hitherto been proud of their English origin. It is true that this pride has not been increasing of late years. The neglect or contempt with which the Colonies have been treated by successive Liberal Administrations did much to estrange the people, especially of Canada and Australasia, and the whole foreign policy of England under Mr. Gladstone's rule served to strengthen the general impression that our decadence had not only set in, but was advancing with a rapidity which was palpable to all the world except to those who were chiefly concerned in arresting it. Mr. Froude tells us that one of the shrewdest and most eminent of all the colonists whom he met expressed his amazement at the popularity in this country of Mr. Gladstone,—an amazement which, Mr. Froude adds, is felt 'wherever the English language is spoken' outside England itself. We can fully confirm this statement. The hold which Mr. Gladstone retains upon the country, after the long series of unparallelled mistakes which a faithful view of his career must forever associate with his name—the mistakes abroad, the mistakes at home, the crowning and almost incredible mistakes in Ireland; that he should still keep his hold of power and popularity after all this, absolutely passes the understanding of our fellow-subjects abroad, no matter what politics they profess. To them, we appear to be a people controlled by some Circean spell, having cast common-sense and prudence to the winds, and decided to be ruled henceforth by the man who can tickle our ears with the longest speeches and the smoothest words. Byron was accustomed to say that he looked upon the opinion of America as the verdict of posterity. It is certain that our own kinsfolk beyond the seas are sometimes in a far better position to realize the consequences of what we are doing here than those who are actually playing the game. We are too much wrapped up in self-complacency to allow their opinions to have any weight with us, but they have the satisfaction, such as it is, of seeing all their prognostications verified one after the other, and of knowing that a rude and stern awakening from our dreams is hanging over us.

Of the three books to which we invite attention, Mr. Froude's is least like the average book of travel, and undoubtedly is the most suggestive of thought. Whether we agree with Mr. Froude or whether we do not, it is always a pleasure to read him. The 'shoddy' work which extends to everything in the present day, and which is eating into the very heart of our new literature, has not corrupted the older handicraftsmen among us. Not one record of travel in a hundred deserves to be mentioned in the same breath with 'Oceana;' there are not very many books of the kind in the language which excel it in variety, in vigour of style, in picturesqueness of description, or in vivid glimpses of insight into personal character. Baron Huebner is a more genial, discursive, and garrulous traveller. He tells us everything that comes into his mind, and has a note about everything he saw. We must add that these notes are, generally speaking, of great interest, and often very amusing. He undertook a journey over the greater part of the British Dominions, at a somewhat advanced period of life, for his readers ought to be reminded that he is the last survivor of the Congress of Paris, and that few men have had more valuable experience in the diplomatic service. Before he started, the Baron heard that his project was freely discussed at the Traveller's Club. Some said, 'what a plucky old fellow he is!' His comment upon this shows that he knows something of men as well as of places: 'If any harm befals me, they will say, "what an old fool he was!"' Happily, there was no occasion for pronouncing this judgment upon him. He followed out his prescribed route with wonderful success, and he has presented a graceful and highly interesting narrative of his adventures. His observations may, in many respects, be usefully compared with those of Mr. Froude, though it will not do to carry this comparison much further. We must, however, do the Baron the justice to acknowledge, that he always manifests an earnest desire to be fair and just. As for the third book on our list, it has the advantage of being short and to the point, and the additional advantage of being founded upon a personal residence in one of the islands of the Western Pacific. Travels based upon something more substantial than a mere flying visit are not too common, and we are grateful to Mr. Romilly for making a very entertaining addition to the number. We should be equally glad to receive the account of North New Guinea which a Russian gentleman, Mr. Miklaho Maclay, is so well able to furnish. It so chanced that he was landed one night on the north coast of New Guinea, and in the morning the natives found him sitting upon his portmanteau, like a man waiting for a train. They took him for a being of supernatural origin, but by way of making sure, they fired arrows at the stranger, tied him to a tree, and forced spears down his throat. As he survived these injuries, though by a narrow chance, the first impression of the natives was confirmed, and Mr. Maclay was afterwards treated in a manner which seems to have left him little ground for complaint. Thus far Mr. Maclay, as Mr. Romilly informs us, has declined to commit any account of his experience to paper; but a resolution of this kind is seldom unalterable when a man has anything new to tell the world.

Mr. Froude, as we have already intimated, intersperses the records of travel with weighty reflections, or with valuable information, no part of which can be prudently ignored by the reader. We do not know, for instance, where in a short compass the arguments for and against Colonial Federation have been so clearly set forth. As a rule, the colonists everywhere view with great aversion the idea of placing themselves under the direct authority of Downing Street, and no one will be surprised at this who recollects the treatment they have almost invariably received from that quarter. On the other hand, they are by no means impatient or eager to proclaim their independence. 'British they are,' says Mr. Froude, 'and British they wish to remain.' It will not be their fault, but ours, if total separation ever becomes a popular cry in Australasia or in Canada. There have been projects of a purely local colonial confederation, but they are not regarded with much favour by the leading public men. Mr. Dalley of Sydney, expressed strongly his disapproval of the scheme, and he also objected to the plan of having the colonies represented in the Imperial Parliament by Colonial Agents-general. The one thing which seems at present to be universally desired is a better organization of the Navy. 'Let there be one Navy,' Mr. Dalley said, 'under the rule of a single Admiralty—a Navy in which the colonies should be as much interested as the mother country, which should be theirs as well as ours, and on which they might all rely in time of danger.' In these respects, the ideas of modern colonists differ widely from those held in the last century. The great grievance of the American colonists was that they were not represented in the British Parliament. Had that demand been conceded, Mr. Froude is of opinion that 'Franklin and Washington would have been satisfied.' We do not quite agree with him, for the party of Independence, though small at first, was never likely to remain long contented with any compromise. Originally, indeed, as we all remember, the leaders of the Revolution disclaimed any intention of bringing about a separation. Franklin to the last protested his desire to keep the colonies united to the mother country; but Franklin was not the most sincere or straightforward of men. Undoubtedly, however, the American colonists did not begin the Revolution with the least desire to create a separate nationality, any more than in the great civil war of 1861-65 there was at first, or for a long time, any intention of effecting the abolition of slavery. Both ideas were acquired by the people by slow degrees. Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Virginia, and other States gave emphatic instructions to their delegates in 1774 to 'restore union and harmony between Great Britain and her Colonies,' and the party of independence was thoroughly unpopular down even to the close of the struggle. One of its leading spirits gave emphatic testimony on this point. 'For my own part,' wrote John Adams, 'there was not a moment in the Revolution when I would not have given everything I possessed for a restoration to the state of things before the contest began, provided we could have a sufficient security for its continuance.' This feeling had no small share in misleading George III. on the American question, and in deepening his determination not to let the colonies go—a fact which was brought out for the first time, we believe, by one of the ablest and most judicious of modern historians—Mr. Lecky. He also was the first to show, in a very striking manner, that the American Revolution was practically the work of a small minority, who, as he remarks—and the remark has no slight application to the other revolution now going on in our midst—'succeeded in committing an undecided and fluctuating majority to courses for which they had little love, and leading them step by step to a position from which it was impossible to recede.'[63] Nearly one-half of the Revolutionary army consisted of Irish, who have ever since played so important a part in the politics of the United States.

In the present day, our colonists do not seek for separation, neither—if Mr. Froude is right—do they ask for representation at Westminster. They 'are passionately attached to their Sovereign,' and they desire that their Governors 'should be worthy always of the great person whom they represent.' They wish to have their trade encouraged, as it might so easily have been a few years ago, if we had possessed foresight enough to adopt a system of differential duties; they wish to have good immigrants, and they see the growing necessity for a strong navy. The information on these subjects which Baron Huebner acquired should be considered in connection with Mr. Froude's statements. It will be found that the two writers substantially agree. Baron Huebner found that the Australian colonists fully comprehend the disadvantage which complete independence would be to them. They are practically independent now, but they are spared the political and social turmoil in which the periodical election of a President would necessarily involve them. 'The Queen,' said one of the Baron's friends, 'sends every five years a Governor, who is not an autocrat like the President of the United States, but the representative of constitutional royalty. In America every four years, business is arrested, public order is disturbed, and passions are let loose to the point sometimes of threatening even public life itself. And why? In order that the nation may elect an absolute master, irremovable by law during his period of office. Here every one understands this, and every one knows how to leave well alone.' We do not quite see how the President of the United States can be described as an 'autocrat' or as an 'absolute master,' but the Australians are right in their conclusion, that the American system would be a sorry substitute for the arrangement which gives them a Governor without inconvenience to themselves, and without any risk of infringement upon their liberties.

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.