South Africa a century ago; letters written from the Cape of Good Hope (1791-1801)

by Barnard, Anne Lindsay, Lady, 1750-1825

London: Smith, Elder & Co., 1910.

SOUTH AFRICA A CENTURY AGO







The Lady Anne Barnard

From a miniature by Cosway



SOUTH AFRICA A CENTURY AGO



LETTERS WRITTEN

FROM THE CAPE OF GOOD HOPE



(1797-1801)

BY

THE LADY ANNE BARNARD





EDITED WITH A MEMOIR AND BRIEF NOTES

BY

W. H. WILKINS, M.A., F.S.A.





WITH A PORTRAIT





FOURTH IMPRESSION





LONDON

SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 WATERLOO PLACE

1910





[All rights reserved]







TO



THE VISCOUNTESS MELVILLE



I DEDICATE THIS BOOK





PREFACE

T HE letters which form this book were written by Lady Anne Barnard from Cape Colony to the first Viscount Melville, then the Right Honourable Henry Dundas, Secretary of State for War, Treasurer of the Navy, and President of the Board of Control in Pitt's first Administration, during the earliest British occupation of South Africa, a century ago.

These letters remained among the archives at Melville Castle for a hundred years. They are now published by permission of the present Lord Melville, to whom the manuscripts belong. There is no need to dwell upon the peculiar fitness of their publication at the present time, when South African affairs loom large in men's minds. But the circumstances under which they were written lend to them an especial interest. They are not merely the letters of a clever woman to her intimate friend, but those of the wife of the first Secretary of Cape Colony to the Secretary of State at home. Lord Melville was the Minister chiefly responsible for the annexation of Cape Colony by the English. Almost alone among British statesmen, he early recognised the importance of our keeping the Cape, not only because of its value as a station on the road to India, but because of the internal resources of the Colony and its great possibilities of development. He called the Cape his 'favourite child,' he watched over it with unflagging zeal, and he resigned office rather than be a party to its cession to the Dutch, 1 He appointed Lord Macartney first Governor of Cape Colony, and Mr. Barnard, Lady Anne's husband, Secretary. The charm, talent, and rare social qualities of Lady Anne Barnard led Lord Melville to give this appointment to her husband. The Governor's wife (Lady Macartney) was not accompanying her husband; the wife of the Secretary would therefore be the first lady of the Colony, and have to perform many of the social duties which usually fall to the lot of the Governor's wife. Lady Anne was admirably fitted to fill such a position, and she enjoyed the friendship and confidence of the Secretary of State in no ordinary degree. Lord Melville charged her to conciliate the Dutch as much as possible, and to write to him freely about everything that occurred. These letters will show how well she fulfilled his wishes in both respects. They cover the period of the Administrations of the first two English Governors (Lord Macartney and Sir George Yonge), and, in addition to giving vivid descriptions of South Africa at that time, they are full of shrewd observations and wise suggestions as to the government of the Colony, especially with regard to the treatment of the natives and the conciliation of the Dutch. The student of history will note, too, that many of the same problems presented themselves for solution a century ago in South Africa as present themselves to-day; the same difficulties arose, and perhaps the same mistakes were committed on either side.

Lady Anne Barnard was also the authoress of that ever-popular ballad Auld Robin Gray, and one of the best-known figures in the literary and social world of her day. Her fascinating personality is all too little known. I have therefore prefaced her letters from South Africa with a brief memoir, and have incorporated in it certain other letters which she wrote from Ireland and elsewhere. They reveal, like everything else she wrote, the same sterling qualities – a keen perception, a liberal mind, a warm heart, and a magnetic gift of sympathy.

I take this opportunity of acknowledging my indebtedness to L ORD M ELVILLE not only for his permission to publish this correspondence, but for much valuable aid and kind encouragement. I have also to thank Mr. G. F YDELL R OWLEY and M RS . A THOLL F ORBES for leave to reproduce the miniature of Lady Anne Barnard by Cosway as a frontispiece.

W H. WILKINS.

MEMOIR

MEMOIR

L ADY A NNE L INDSAY (by marriage Barnard) was the eldest child of James, fifth Earl of Balcarres, by his wife Anne Dalrymple, daughter of Sir Robert Dalrymple, of Castletown. Both her parents were remarkable. Her father was a brave soldier and a learned and courteous gentleman. He had drawn his sword in the Stuart cause in the rising of 1715, but as the House of Hanover settled itself upon the throne he was too good a patriot not to sink faction for the good of his country, and he fought against its enemies under King George II. at the battle of Dettingen. He lived through troublous times. Born the year after the abdication of King James II., he survived for about twenty years the last effort of the Stuarts to regain their hereditary kingdom in 1745. Branch after branch had been shorn away from his family, until at the time of his marriage Lord Balcarres was the chief of his clan and the last of his race. He was sixty years of age when he married Miss Dalrymple, a lady nearly forty years his junior, beautiful, clever, and endowed with an almost masculine strength of mind, though somewhat lacking in the feminine virtues of softness and charity.

Lady Anne, the first issue of this union, was born December 12, 1750, at Balcarres. Prince Charles Edward and the rising of '45 were still fresh in men's minds; and when it was known that Lady Balcarres was like to be brought to bed, great things were expected of the probable heir of this ancient house. To quote Lady Anne's own words: 'There long existed a prophecy that the first child of the last descendant of the House of Balcarres was to restore the family of Stuart to those hereditary rights which the bigotry of James had deprived them of. The Jacobites seemed to have gained new life on the occasion; the wizards and witches of the period found it in their books; the devil had mentioned it to one or two of his particular friends; old ladies had read it from the grounds of their coffee – no wonder that the event was welcomed with the gasp of expiring hope. Songs were made by exulting Tories, masses were offered up by good Catholics, who longed to see the Pope's bull once more tossing his horns in the country.... In due course of time the partisans of the "Pretender," the soothsayers, wizards, witches, the bards, fortune-tellers, and old ladies, were all in a group dismayed, disconcerted, and enraged to learn that Lady Balcarres was brought to bed of a daughter after all, absolutely but a daughter.... That child was the Anne Lindsay who now addresses you.'

Lady Anne was not destined to be for long the sole representative of the younger generation of the House of Balcarres, for within the next twelve years the Countess presented her lord with ten other children. To again quote Lady Anne: 'Our excellent parents, having nothing else to do in the country, desisted not from their laudable aim of populating the castle of Balcarres, till their family consisted of eight boys and three girls. Such are the wonders (I speak to all old bachelors) produced by a life of temperance, with the blessing of God.'

Lady Anne was carefully, if somewhat strictly, brought up. Her mother was a martinet with her numerous brood, and ruled her children rather by fear than love, after the fashion of many parents in the eighteenth century. Lord Balcarres gave up the management of his family to his wife, except that when punishments were unduly severe and peccadilloes treated as crimes he would sometimes break in with a remonstrance: 'Odds fish, Madame! you will break the spirits of my young troops; I will not have it so.' Lady Balcarres used to say that Anne was the most difficult to punish of all her children, since her shortcomings were not sufficient to earn her a whipping. Margaret, who was Lady Anne's favourite sister, and two years younger, was of a much more high-spirited temperament and was generally in revolt and in disgrace. On one occasion Lady Margaret assembled the other children together, and proposed flight in consequence of the 'horrious' life they suffered at home. The proposal was carried with acclamation, and the six children set off forthwith, but their escape was retarded by little James, who was not yet breeched, and whom they had to carry in turns. They had not gone far when their flight was discovered by old Robin Gray, the shepherd, who went to Lady Balcarres with the news: 'All the young gentlemen and the young ladies and all the dogs are run away, my lady.' The truants were soon captured and brought back, and the punishment of each this time was a dose of tincture of rhubarb in varying degree.

Lady Anne was given a good education in keeping with her social position – in fact, rather in advance of it, as education for women was understood in that day – and as she grew up she showed signs that she had inherited a full share of the family talents. Her childhood was spent at Balcarres, but as she became older visits were frequently paid to Edinburgh, to the house of her grandmother, Lady Dalrymple, or to Sir Thomas Oughton's country house outside the city. Lady Dalrymple, a clever old lady, was intimate with many of the most eminent Scotsmen of her time. Among her friends was David Hume, the historian, whom she had known from a child. Lady Anne mentions him in a letter which she wrote to her sister Margaret about this time from her grandmother's house in Edinburgh. 'Dinners go on as usual,' she wrote, 'which being monopolised by the divines, wits and writers of the present day, are not unjustly called "the dinners of the eaterati" by Lord Kellie, who laughs at his own pun until his face is purple. Our friend David Hume, along with his friend Principal Robertson, continue to maintain their ground at these convivial meetings. To see the lion and the lamb lying down together, the deist and the doctor, is extraordinary; it makes one hope that some day Hume will say to him, "Thou almost persuadest me to be a Christian." He is a constant visitor of ours.'

When Lady Anne was in her twenty-first year her sister, Lady Margaret, was married to Mr. Alexander Fordyce, of Roehampton. Lady Margaret's charms and mental accomplishments were recorded by many of her admiring contemporaries. Her beauty inspired Sheridan with the well-known lines:

Mark'd you her eye of heavenly blue,

Mark'd you her cheek of rosy hue;

That eye in liquid circles roving,

That cheek abashed at man's approving.

The one love's arrows darting round,

The other blushing at the wound.

It was soon after her sister's marriage, in 1771, that Lady Anne wrote the ballad which will ever remain her title to fame. Bereft of the companionship of her sister, she was driven back on her own resources, and her literary talents began to make themselves manifest. 'Residing,' she says, 'in the solitude of the country, without other sources of entertainment but what I could draw from myself, I used to mount up to my little closet in the high winding staircase, which commanded the sea, the lake, the rocks, the birds, the beach, and with my pen in my hand and a few envelopes of old letters, which too often vanished afterwards, scribbled away poetically and in prose.' It was on one of these occasions that 'Auld Robin Gray' was written. 2 For some unaccountable reason she never publicly acknowledged the authorship until 1823, two years before her death; indeed, it seems that she denied having written it, for once when on a visit at Dalkeith, Lady Jane Scott, sister of the Duke of Buccleuch, said: 'You sing that song in a way that makes me sure it is your own writing.' Lady Anne, according to her own statement, blushed scarlet, and denied it. 'Do not do so,' said Lady Jane; 'I will betray you unless you give me a copy of it.' Lady Anne says: 'To convince her I was not the author, I gave her a copy, entreating her not to let anybody have it.' But Lady Jane copied it for her friends, and soon the song got out into the world, and became widely popular, though its authorship remained a disputed point.

A few years after Lord Balcarres died Lady Anne left Balcarres and went to live in Edinburgh with her mother, the Dowager-Countess, who had taken a house there. In Edinburgh she mixed freely in the literary society for which the northern capital was famous. When Johnson came to Edinburgh in 1773 he was introduced to Lady Anne, who had gathered round her a numerous company of friends, including Hume, McKenzie, and Monboddo. It was probably about this time that she made the acquaintance of Henry Dundas, then a rising young Scottish politician, who had been appointed, at the age of twenty-four, Solicitor General for Scotland, and for whom his Edinburgh friends already predicted a brilliant career. Lady Anne had a great respect and affection for her mother, but she was not particularly happy with her, and after the death of Mr. Fordyce she went to London to reside with her widowed sister. Lady Margaret Fordyce, who had taken one of the smaller houses in Berkeley Square. There the two sisters lived together for many years. The beauty of Lady Margaret, and the charm and lively conversation of Lady Anne, 'one of the most fascinating women of her time,' as a contemporary describes her, made them very popular, and their house became a social centre, and a favourite resort of some of the most famous literary and political men of the day. Pitt, Burke, Sheridan, Windham, and Dundas are a few of those who were wont to avail themselves of the sisters' simple yet charming hospitality; the Prince of Wales was also one of their frequent guests, and his friendship with Lady Anne lasted all his life. They also enjoyed a considerable share of Court favour from King George and Queen Charlotte. 'The Lindsay sisters,' as they were called, occupied a unique position in the London society of their day.

With such opportunities Lady Anne, it may readily be believed, had many offers, some of them exceptionally good, but she refused them all. The reason that she remained unwed all these years is ascribed by her nephew, Colonel Lindsay, to indecision (in other matters it seems to have formed no part of her character) and to a reluctance to leave her sister. But the 'Melville Letters,' hitherto unpublished, afford, I think, a clue to the mystery. Lady Anne's heart was really given to Henry Dundas, with whom, to the day of his death, she remained on terms of intimate friendship. Dundas was now one of the first statesmen of the day, the most powerful man in Scotland, the intimate friend and trusted lieutenant of Pitt, a great Parliamentary debater, and a successful Minister. His career excited the admiration of his friends, and of none more than Lady Anne. But though Dundas attained public greatness, he was unfortunate in his private relations. His beautiful first wife, daughter and heiress of David Rennie, of Melville Castle, deserted him for another man; a divorce followed, and it was some years before Dundas took to himself another wife. In private life he was of a free and genial disposition, fond of ladies' society, and during those years when his public career was at its zenith, but his domestic happiness broken up, he was a frequent and welcome guest at the sisters' house in Berkeley Square. He sought eagerly the society of Lady Anne, taking her into his confidence, and talking to her unreservedly about political and private matters. Whether he ever contemplated marriage with her, or led her to believe that he did, it is impossible to say; but it is certain that Lady Anne became very much attached to him. The news that he was going to marry Lady Jane Hope, the daughter of the second Earl of Hopetoun, must have come to her as a blow.

Whatever Lady Anne suffered, she kept her feelings to herself. She showed no disposition to wear the willow, and in 1793 astonished her friends by marrying Mr. Andrew Barnard, son of the Bishop of Limerick. The marriage, from a worldly point of view, could hardly be considered other than imprudent. Lady Anne was forty-three years of age, her husband was fifteen years her junior; he had been in the Army; he was good-looking, well-mannered, of moderate ability and amiable disposition. It is only fair to say that, despite the disparity of age, he made Lady Anne a very good husband, and she grew to be much attached to him. The problem of ways and means early presented itself. Barnard had a small patrimony and many debts; Lady Anne had little or nothing. But she was always of a sanguine disposition, and she looked forward to obtaining for her husband a Government appointment of some kind through the influence of her highly placed friends. Her most intimate friend was Dundas, now Secretary for War, Treasurer of the Navy, and President of the Board of Control in Pitt's First Administration, and to him she applied. A few months after her marriage she went to Ireland with her husband to make the acquaintance of his relatives, and from there we find her writing to Dundas:

'I have not forgotten, my dear friend, what you hinted to me in confidence respecting the possibility of Mr. Barnard deriving a benefit from a situation ostensibly given to another, and to be sure this would be a very eligible favour for our interests, and one I should most gratefully thank you for. But until this occurs, will you contrive to place him in any office, with no matter how little salary, where he might have something to do and prove himself useful? He was pleased with your manner to him, and said he had never talked to a great man who had so much the power of making a man, who was asking a favour, feel at ease with him as yourself. If you could place him on your own Board, or anywhere where he might gain your friendship by deserving it, and by being connected with yourself, he would be glad. But I put the matter into your hands and leave it. You will find a mode of serving us; the sooner you can do so in any shape the better. I prefer owing to you than to any other person, because I can never cease to have for you sentiments which make the feeling of gratitude sit easy in my heart.' 3

But good appointments, real or sinecure, even in those days, were not to be had for the asking, and though Dundas renewed his promise, no suitable vacancy occurred. In 1794, in consequence of a rumour that her powerful friend was about to retire from the Government, Lady Anne again wrote from Ireland to renew her request:

'On an occasion so important as this, I think it right for me to remind you of myself, depending on your kindness, so many proofs of which I have experienced on former occasions, and almost certain that distance would not make you forget the hearty assurance you gave me of assisting my husband. I have never teased you about it, because I committed my interests wholly into your hands, while I formed all my counsels here on the confidence I have in you, in consequence of what passed between you and me the last time I saw you, which I naturally repeated to Mr. Barnard. I prevailed on him to give up the Army, though considerable advantages were offered him by the Lord Lieutenant, as he has been seventeen years in the Army, and has served many years abroad. I have also prevailed on him and his family to consent to our letting St. Wolstan's for a term of years, almost the prettiest place in Ireland, but one which our income did not render it eligible to keep, and to have a house in London also. To indulge me these things have been done. Am I not therefore doubly bound, my dear friend, to use every exertion which zeal, duty, and gratitude can give, with a friend who has long been mine, who knows our situation, and who, I trust, will not on this occasion desert me, to replace to my husband the pleasures of which I have deprived him, to secure my own comfort amongst my own friends? I throw myself on you with earnestness and hope; you owe me some happiness, in truth you do. Pay me by making me the means of serving a man who has rebuilt in a considerable degree what tumbled to its foundation, who makes my happiness his study, and whose prospects in this country (Ireland) have been given up for me.' 4

Still nothing was forthcoming, though Dundas remained in office. In truth, Barnard, who had few qualifications, was not an easy man to fit with a suitable appointment. After waiting another year, Lady Anne came over to England to see what pleading in person would do. She saw the powerful Minister; Dundas had not forgotten, and renewed his promises. Lady Anne followed up the interview by writing him a still more strongly worded letter:

'Do not let me, my dear friend, return to Ireland dispirited, and have to tell the Bishop and Mrs. Barnard that the flattering hopes I gave them for their son, from the kind promises you made me previous to our marriage three years ago, have not been realised. I have explained myself fully to you, and refer to our conversation once again to implore you to ask your own heart whether you ought not to feel yourself doubly bound to make my situation comfortable, more than you are bound to any other woman in this world. To a man like you, generous as well as just, how many motives are there not in the strong, though defeated, regards which have subsisted between us, for you to take my husband by the hand, and make me, through him, as happy as you can? To pay me all you have owed, and still owe me, you never can. But what you can you should do, and you have got before you the pleasure of obliging me. I have paid you tears of gratitude for the hearty manner in which you pledged yourself to serve us, and while I have any memory I must depend on your doing so, but hope deferred maketh the heart sick.' 5

This last appeal had its effect. On the conquest of the Cape of Good Hope, the Home Government determined to send out Lord Macartney as Governor, and Dundas offered the appointment of Secretary of the Colony to Mr. Barnard, with a salary of 3,500l. a year. Barnard was delighted with the appointment, as he ought to have been, but Lady Anne demurred somewhat. The idea of banishment to an unknown land, as the Cape then was, rather frightened her; she would have preferred, she told Dundas, a situation with less emolument nearer home, and she was not quite sure whether the post of Secretary was not one beneath Mr. Barnard's acceptance; or, rather, whether the position of Secretary's wife was one suitable for her rank. All these doubts and fears she communicated by letter. Dundas answered her shortly, saying that it was the 'prettiest appointment in the world for any young fellow,' and telling her that she must take that or nothing. He had some reason to be hurt, for he had given this appointment to Barnard, a young and untried man, solely because of his goodwill for his wife. He had thoughtfully chosen it also because (as Lady Macartney was not going out to the Cape) Lady Anne would be able to play the part of first lady in the Colony and represent the Government, which he knew she would like. Lady Anne, fearing that she had offended her powerful friend, apologised with tears, and a reconciliation was effected between them. In March 1797 she and her husband left England with Lord Macartney for the Cape, where they arrived, on board the 'Trusty,' on May 4, 1797, and took over the Government of the Colony.

The record of Lady Anne's life in South Africa is told in full in the letters which are published in this book, so we will not allude to it at length here. Her letters were all written to Dundas, and the fact that he tied them together and kept them carefully preserved among his most cherished papers at Melville Castle shows that the great Minister, through all his vicissitudes, kept a soft corner in his heart for Lady Anne.

On the cession of the Cape to the Dutch by the Peace of Amiens, Lady Anne came back to England in 1802; her husband followed her a few months later. Lady Anne tried hard to obtain for Barnard another Government appointment, but without success. The Pitt Ministry was come to an end; her powerful friend, Dundas (now Lord Melville), had resigned office rather than be a party to the ignoble Peace, and Addington turned a deaf ear to her representations. Baffled in her endeavours, she went to Ireland, where a new vexation awaited her in the fact that her father-in-law, the Bishop of Limerick, who was now a widower, at the age of seventy-six, declared his intention of marrying a young girl. The scandal and annoyance this occasioned to his relatives may be imagined. After trying in vain to put matters right. Lady Anne went on to visit her brother-in-law and sister, Lord and Lady Hardwicke, at Dublin Castle.

Lord Hardwicke was then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and the time was critical. The Irish Catholics were indignant, and rightly, at the disappointment of their hopes of emancipation, which Pitt had promised to give them, but the King refused. The discontent which had brought about the Irish Rebellion of 1798 under Lord Edward FitzGerald was still rife, and the return to Ireland of exiles from France after the Peace of Amiens had enabled Napoleon to establish negotiations with the Irish malcontents. Fortunately, Napoleon and the French were now unpopular with the Irish Catholics on account of Napoleon's treatment of the Pope, and the great body of them held aloof. A rising took place, but instead of being national it was confined to a small number of Protestant republicans, and hardly exceeded the proportions of a town riot. Emmett, the leader, was taken and executed. Lady Anne was staying at the Castle through this troublous time, and she wrote a letter to Lord Melville, from which we take the following extract:

'As I think that, retired as you are amongst your own mountains, surrounded by your own friends, your own faithful Highlanders, eating your own mutton and drinking your own ale, you will not be sorry to know what is going on in this agitated country, separated from our native land by so little, I take up my pen to give you, my dear friend, a little of such Irish news as is on the cards at present. Alas! that I must write to you so much of trials, rebels, and matters of the baneful, alarming, and horrid kind, of which Ireland is full at present. I want to tell you, though, before I begin on these sad things, that Lord Hardwicke reviewed the different corps a few days ago, about five thousand, in the Phœnix Park. They made a very respectable appearance; the commanding officers all dined here afterwards in St. Patrick's Hall, which, together with the good dinner and sumptuous service of plate, made also a very good appearance of a different sort.

'You will, I know, expect to hear something of the trials and executions of the poor, faulty, and deluded men, whose guilt cannot admit of doubt, which have been taking place. Several have been hanged in the eyes of a great concourse of people, who have shown no disposition to question or to rescue. There are, however, in spite of oneself, many circumstances which daily take place, while such solemn scenes are going forward, to freeze the blood and sometimes to awaken pity for youth and talents so perverted. I refer especially to Emmett, the misguided leader of this unhappy matter. Emmett was the son of a physician, only twenty-three, as I believe, and of great, though perverted, talents. I must tell you of the reply of the young woman who was taken at the same time, and who wore green ribbons in her hat, the rebel colour. "Why," said the officer, "is it that so pretty a young woman as you wear this object of sedition?" She coldly answered, "You can't help the colour, do what you will; it grows every day." There is a very singular story in circulation here, which I fancy is not without foundation, that the daughter of Curran, the famous counsellor, was in correspondence with Emmett, and it is said that her love letters found on him, mixed with politics, were fatal to him. No one believes that Curran, her father, knew of this correspondence; he some time ago changed his doctrines, and declared himself loyal for the future. "It was more to his interest," he said, "as he had a rising family." He was to have been counsel for Emmett, but on this discovery declined it, and still refuses to see his daughter. The young man was said to have behaved extraordinarily well.

'I think you will like to know the result of Emmett's trial and the manner in which he quitted his busy and turbulent career. The Court was crowded at a very early hour. The trial began at nine o'clock and lasted till eight in the evening. Many men went there with a considerable mixture of compassion for his youth and perverted talents, but these sentiments did not remain; the proofs of his guilt were so clear that at his own desire his counsel did not make any defence. Some extracts only of the letters I mentioned were read, and the name was withheld. It is said that these letters were the principal evidence to condemn him. The name was withheld, I clearly saw, in delicacy to the young woman's father, Mr. Curran, who has lately become the friend of the Government, and has the ability to do much harm. The behaviour of Emmett during the trial was cool, firm, and manly. After he was found guilty he spoke at considerable length, it was thought in a daring and improper manner, avowing his principles and glorying in them. I do not, however, think his speech reads ill; to be sure, it is daring and impetuous, but I think it is sincere, and the speech of a republican and an enthusiast, who from infancy imbibed a set of false doctrines which an ardent and ambitious mind formed, and a low placed attachment riveted.

'When Lord Norbury told Emmett that he had been found guilty of high treason, and asked him why the sentence of the law should not be passed on him, he replied:

'"My Lord, with respect to the trial and the verdict pronounced, nothing; but with respect to some of the charges this night settled, I have much to say. I have been charged with being an emissary of France. Hear the declaration of a dying man. I say it is false – I never was an emissary of France. I acknowledge that the Provisional Government treated with France, and at this moment an ambassador from this country is in Paris to obtain a treaty signed, before an expedition should sail to get for this country such a constitution as Franklin has obtained for America. I have no faith in treaties. My object was to obtain for the people their rights, to restore what had been wrested from them, to act with the people against the Government to obtain it, but not, as it was construed to-night, by foreign aid. So contrary was my plan that I accelerated the attack of the 23rd, lest the French should arrive. Hear the declaration of a dying man. My views were not formed upon ambitious motives. I had no desire for emolument or aggrandisement. I sacrificed ideals dear to my heart to obtain for the people their rights; I now lose my life for it. Read our proclamation. My wish was to effect this without bloodshed. I declare as a dying man I did not wish to spill blood."

'Here Lord Norbury interrupted him, but Emmett went on: "My Lord, it is true that you are the judge and I am the culprit. My Lord, you are but a man, so am I. I claim nothing as a culprit from a judge. I only desire that my dying request may be granted, and that this may pass with my life, that when I meet the cold grave no epitaph may be written on my tomb. Future times will record the work that I began."

'Here the Judge said this must end, and Emmett concluded: "My Lord, I state the solemn truth, as I shall shortly appear before my God. I was not the author of this movement, but joined it because the sentiments it professed agreed with my own. From the age of ten these sentiments were mine and will go to the grave with me – to join the people against the Government for the redress of their grievances, and were it to be done again to-morrow I would act as I have done. But hear my last declaration. I hate French principles and I hate the French; I see they have paid no respect to treaties. Were I in Switzerland I would join the people against the French; I would do the same here, and would be one of the foremost to fight against them. These are my sentiments; for these I die. My ministry has come to a close."

'After sentence was passed Emmett was by mistake taken to Newgate and lodged in a miserable cell, which being discovered by Mr. Wickham, he sent a strong party of dragoons, and removed him to his former prison, where he was comfortably accommodated until the next day, when he was to be executed. Emmett expressed himself sensible of this mark of attention to the Officer of the Guard, who repeated this, and a good deal more, to me. The doomed man also, in a conversation with the Attorney-General, O'Grady, entered more at large into his views and plans than he had done the day before. He reiterated his abhorrence of the French, their principles, and their government, and said he had been eager to make his push before the invasion they meditated would make it theirs. He disclaimed private views of ambition or interest, and showed a man burning with a fire which flashed only to mislead, being self-misled. I do not believe that Miss Curran requested to see him; if she did she would not have been permitted. The conduct of Redman, who shot himself, had rendered it necessary that Emmett should be searched in court to prevent his concealing the means of self-destruction, and he was handcuffed. Many letters were found on him which were not exposed, and a lock of hair and a small bunch of valerian. He said to the jailer, "For Heaven's sake, do not take those from me; let me have them to the last." They were returned to him.

'The next day at one o'clock he was taken to the place of execution, in a hackney coach at his own request. He conversed with ease and calmness with two Protestant clergymen who accompanied him, he being a Protestant, and, when he arrived at the gallows, seemed much disappointed at not being permitted to harangue the populace, giving reason to suppose that his intentions might fairly be trusted. But the experiment was one of too much danger; he was not allowed to speak, and finding he could not prevail, he calmly and at once advanced to the halter. He had before he left prison requested to have the Sacrament, and declared himself to live and to die a Christian, sincerely sorry for whatever he had done that was wrong, but dying in the firm persuasion that he had in the present instance acted up to what was his duty, according to every principle which from early infancy had been instilled into him.

'This request of partaking of the Sacrament (which was granted), but at the same time acknowledging no repentance for his conduct, produced a very warm dispute at his Excellency's table, where opinions were so equally divided that a Bishop being on the side against the administration of the Sacrament could scarce turn the scale. I will not venture upon a subject so far above me; but one thing I may venture to say, both with respect to Emmett and the two clergymen who administered, that I believe our great Creator, who looks into our hearts, will judge our motives rather than our actions. Our actions vary, as countries, habits, tenets of faith, and moral laws settle, but the motives of hearts are apart from religions and customs, and where they are sound and pure in their own tribunal – conscience – I do not believe that the great Judge of all will punish a person whose judgment only is wrong. Therefore, may we not forgive the clergymen, and perhaps, when we do, find an extenuation for Emmett? ' 6

The English again conquered the Cape in 1806. Lord Caledon went out as Governor, and Barnard was again appointed to his old post of Secretary to the Colony, it being thought that his knowledge of Cape affairs would prove useful. Lady Anne was very much against her husband accepting the appointment, but as nothing else offered he had perforce to go, and she arranged to follow him later. Her plans, however, were changed by the news of his death, which occurred soon after his arrival at the Cape, in 1807.

In her widowhood Lady Anne returned to Lady Margaret's house in Berkeley Square, where the sisters resided together, and she took up the thread of her life very much where it had been broken by her marriage. Among her best friends at this time were Sir Walter Scott and the Prince Regent. Some little time after Barnard's death Lady Anne sent a portrait of her husband to the Prince Regent with the following note:

'I know your goodness of heart, Sir, and I know that you will pardon this letter. It is not more to my prince that I write than to that kind friend and patron who would have stopped the fatal journey of my dear husband by an exchange of situation, had not untoward combinations defeated every hope and forced his departure. You will perceive, Sir, that it is Anne Barnard who now addresses your Royal Highness, to entreat your acceptance of what accompanies this. My dear husband requested in his will that I would send testimonies of his regard to those friends I knew he honoured and esteemed. To fulfil this desire, I have had an engraving done from this picture, of which the first proof is now sent to your Royal Highness. You will not be displeased at my venturing to place you, Sir, at the head of this (to me) sacred list – so much worth, and so many estimable qualities as he had, rendered him a person whose attachment could not disgrace even your Royal Highness. When you look at the print, Sir, as I hope you will do with regard for his sake, bestow a thought of pity and kindness on her who ever has been and must remain

'Your Royal Highness's

'Most faithful and affectionate servant,

'A NNE B ARNARD .

'P.S. – May I venture to say that I would rather your Royal Highness did not reply to my letter? Your heart will lead you to it, but it will be better for me not to receive any reply on this subject.'

The Prince Regent's reply shows that he possessed a warmth of heart with which many of his contemporaries did not credit him:

'My dear and old Friend, – You are right in thinking that perhaps it would be better, both for you and me, that no letter should pass between us in consequence of this recent mark of your kindest recollection and affection. But there are certain feelings which one is only individually responsible for, and that which perhaps in one instance is better for one person not to do, it is impossible for another to resist. It is not from any selfish conceit or presumption that I presume to differ from your much better reasoned and conceived opinion, but from the ingenuous and paramount impulse and feelings of a heart that you have long, long, long indeed known, which from the earliest hour of its existence has glowed with the warmest and most transcendent feelings of the most affectionate friendship for those who love and know how to appreciate it – and to whom can this be better applied, dearest Lady Anne, than to yourself? To tell you how much and how highly I value your present, and what (if it be possible) is much more, the affectionate remembrance you have shown me in this instance, and the manner in which you have done it, is that which I not only can never express, but can never forget. That every blessing and happiness may for ever attend you is the earnest prayer of

'Your ever and most affectionate friend,

'G EORGE P.

'P.S. – My heart is so full that I hope you will forgive this hasty scrawl, for I write the very instant I have received your letter. Pray tell me that you forgive me.'

Lady Margaret Fordyce married again in 1812 Sir James Burgess, and died two years later. Lady Anne continued to reside in Berkeley Square by herself, enjoying the esteem and society of her many friends. George IV. sent for her to come and see him when he was very ill. He spoke most affectionately to her, and said, 'Sister Anne' (the name he usually gave her), 'I wish to see you to tell you that I love you, and wish you to accept of this golden chain for my sake. I may, perhaps, never see you again.'

Lady Anne was always the life and soul of any party at which she was present. She was a great story-teller; the following is a characteristic illustration. She was entertaining a large party of distinguished guests at dinner when a hitch occurred in the kitchen. Her old servant came up behind her, and said, 'My Lady, you must tell another story – the second course won't be ready for five minutes.'

A few years before her death. Sir Walter Scott's novel 'The Pirate' appeared, in which book Sir Walter Scott, who at that time refused to identify himself with the author of 'Waverley,' mentioned Lady Anne by name as the author of 'Auld Robin Gray.' He compared the condition of Minnie to that of Jeanie Gray – to quote his own words, 'The village heroine in Lady Anne Barnard's beautiful ballad.' 7 This public ascription led Lady Anne to think that the time had at last arrived to put an end to the disputes concerning the authorship of her ballad.

She wrote a letter to Sir Walter Scott, dated July 8, 1823, asking him to convey to the author of 'Waverley,' 'with whom,' she slyly added, 'I am informed you are personally acquainted, how grateful I feel the kindness with which he has, in the second volume of "The Pirate," chapter xiii., so distinguishedly noticed, and by his powerful authority assigned the long contested ballad of "Auld Robin Gray" to its proper author.' She then went on to say:

'In truth, the position I was placed in about that song had at last become irksome to me; how can I then so fully mark my thankfulness to him who has relieved me from my dilemma, as by transmitting to him, fairly and frankly, the origin, birth, life, death and confession, will and testament, of "Auld Robin Gray," with the assurance that the author of "Waverley" is the first person out of my own family who has ever had an explanation from me on the subject?

'"Robin Gray," so called from its being the name of the old herdsman at Balcarres, was born soon after the close of the year 1771. My sister Margaret had married and accompanied her husband to London; I was melancholy, and endeavoured to amuse myself by attempting a few poetical trifles. There was an ancient Scotch melody of which I was passionately fond; Sophy Johnstone, who lived before your day, used to sing it to us at Balcarres. I longed to sing old Sophy's air to different words, and to give to its plaintive tones some little history of virtuous distress in humble life, such as might suit it. While attempting to effect this in my closet, I called to my little sister, now Lady Hardwicke, who was the only person near me: "I have been writing a ballad, my dear. I am oppressing my heroine with many misfortunes: I have already sent her Jamie to sea, and broken her father's arm, and made her mother fall sick, and given her Auld Robin Gray for a lover, but I wish to load her with a fifth sorrow in the four lines, poor thing! Help me to one, I pray." "Steal the cow, sister Anne," said the little Elizabeth. The cow was immediately lifted by me, and the song completed. At our fireside, amongst our neighbours, "Auld Robin Gray" was always called for. I was pleased with the approbation it met with, but such was my dread of being suspected of writing anything, perceiving the shyness it created in those who could write nothing, that I carefully kept my own secret.' 8

The last years of Lady Anne's life were spent in preparing and collecting materials for a book on the Lindsays. She died on May 6, 1825, in her seventy-fourth year. Her nephew, Colonel Lindsay, has paid the following tribute to her memory, which sums up the salient points in her remarkable and charming personality:

'The peculiar trait of Lady Anne's character was benevolence, a readiness to share with others her purse, her tears, or her joys – an absence of all selfishness. This, with her talents, created a power of pleasing which I have never seen equalled. She had in society a power of placing herself in sympathy with those whom she addressed, of drawing forth their feelings, their talents, their requirements, pleasing them with themselves, and consequently with their companions for the time being. I have often seen her change a dull party into an agreeable one; she could make the dullest speak, the shyest feel happy, and the witty flash fire without any apparent exertion. It were impossible to name the numbers who claimed her intimacy, even from the prince on the throne to the peasant at Balcarres.'

APPENDIX TO MEMOIR



THE ORIGINAL TEXT OF 'AULD ROBIN GRAY'



B Y L ADY A NNE L INDSAY , by marriage B ARNARD

W HEN the sheep are in the fauld, when the kye's come hame,

And a' the weary warld to rest are gane,

The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e,

Unkent by my gudeman, wha sleeps sound by me.



Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and sought me for his bride,

But saving ae crown-piece he had naething beside;

To make the crown a pound my Jamie gaed to sea,

And the crown and the pound – they were baith for me.



He hadna been gane a twelvemonth and a day,

When my father brake his arm and the cow was stown away;

My mither she fell sick – my Jamie was at sea,

And Auld Robin Gray came a courting me.



My father couldna wark – my mither couldna spin –

I toiled day and night, but their bread I couldna win, –

Auld Rob maintained them baith, and, wi' tears in his e'e,

Said, 'Jeanie, O for their sakes will ye no marry me?'



My heart it said na, and I looked for Jamie back,

But hard blew the winds, and his ship was a wrack;

His ship was a wrack – why didna Jamie dee.

Or why am I spared to cry wae is me?



My father urged me sair – my mither didna speak,

But she looked in my face till my heart was like to break;

They gied him my hand – my heart was in the sea –

And so Robin Gray he was gudeman to me.



I hadna been his wife a week but only four,

When, mournfu' as I sat on the stane at my door,

I saw my Jamie's ghaist, for I couldna think it he

Till he said 'I'm come hame, love, to marry thee!'



Oh sair, sair did we greet, and mickle say of a',

I gied him ae kiss, and bade him gang awa', –

I wish that I were dead, but I'm na like to dee,

For though my heart is broken, I'm but young, wae is me!



I gang like a ghaist, and I carena much to spin,

I darena think o' Jamie, for that wad be a sin,

But I'll do my best a gude wife to be,

For, O, Robin Gray, he is kind to me.

LADY ANNE BARNARD'S LETTERS

I

A S the following letters practically cover the period of the first British occupation of South Africa, a brief survey of the history of Cape Colony before it came into English hands may not be out of place.

The Cape of Good Hope was discovered by Bartholomew Dias, the Portuguese explorer, in 1486, when he was in search of an ocean road to India. His vessel was caught in a heavy gale, wherefore he entitled the new land 'Cabo Tormentoso,' or the Cape of Storms. The King of Portugal, appreciating the importance of the discovery, gave it the more auspicious name of the Cape of Good Hope, as its existence afforded a good hope of a new and easier way of reaching India, the goal of maritime expeditions of that age. The hope was realised ten years later, when Vasco da Gama doubled the Cape and carried the Portuguese flag into Indian seas. The Portuguese, more attracted by India, never valued the Cape at its proper worth; they often touched there, but they made no permanent settlement.

The ocean highway now being discovered, the English, Dutch, and French began to follow the Portuguese to India viá the Cape of Good Hope. The English flag was first seen in Table Bay in 1591. On the decline of the Portuguese power the Dutch established themselves in the East, and they early saw the importance of the Cape as a port of call and refreshment, it being regarded as two-thirds of the distance from Amsterdam to Batavia. They did not colonise it until 1652, when the Dutch East India Company ordered Jacob van Riebeck, with a small party of soldiers and colonists, to form a settlement there, something in the nature of a military outpost. These colonists gradually drove the Hottentots back and took their territory. The early settlers, though under Dutch rule, were not wholly Dutch, but were made up also of Flemings, Germans, Poles, and Portuguese, mostly of a low class. A few of the best, and those mainly Dutch, formed a Council to assist the chief officer in the management of the colony. In 1686 the little community received an important addition in a number of French refugees who had left their country on the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. This Huguenot immigration may still be traced in South Africa in many ways – Joubert and Du Plessis, for instance, are old Huguenot names. The colony now grew, gradually extending its borders and increasing its population. Cattle-breeding was found to pay, and became an important industry. The children and grandchildren of the Dutch, Germans, French, and other nationalities became trek boeren – that is, wandering farmers – and with their nomadic life they adopted unsettled and lawless habits.

For the next hundred years, throughout the eighteenth century, South Africa was under the rule, or rather the misrule, of the Dutch East India Company. They seized the territory of the Hottentots, broke their so-called contracts with them, and reduced those whom they did not kill to the position of serfs. They introduced a number of Malays and negroes into the colony as slaves – a measure absolutely indefensible, as there was no need of negro labour; they established a narrow and tyrannical policy, needlessly harassing the settlers with petty restrictions and extortionate taxes. They specified to the farmers the nature of the crops they were to grow, and exacted from them a large portion of their produce. This naturally led to false statements, bribery, cheating, and all kinds of corruption. Again and again were complaints made by the settlers to the Government in Holland against the Dutch East India Company, but without result. The Boers, or wandering farmers, were especially insubordinate, and not without reason; indeed, much of their dislike to orderly government may be traced back to this misgovernment. They made several attempts to throw off the rule of the Dutch East India Company, until at last, in 1795, their discontent culminated in active rebellion, and they endeavoured to form a republic of their own in the district of Graff-Reinet. At this time European politics had extended even to the Cape, and the French Revolution made its influence felt here, and found many sympathisers among the Dutch. In Holland there were two parties – the 'Patriot' party, which sympathised with the French and held republican principles; and the Orange party, which favoured the Stadtholders, the Prince of Orange, and the alliance with England. When war broke out the 'Patriot' party sided with France and the Orange party with the English. The French successes of 1794-5 had the result of upsetting the Prince of Orange's Government, and he escaped to England in a fishing-boat, and Holland, or that part of it in alliance with France, became known as the Batavian Republic.

Fearing that the Cape might fall into the hands of the French, and recognising its importance as a station on the way to India, the British Government resolved to take possession of it without delay. An expedition was despatched under Admiral Elphinstone and General Craig, who commanded the sea and land forces respectively, and arrived in Simon's Bay in June 1795. General Craig brought with him a letter from the Prince of Orange to the officers in charge at the Cape, desiring them to receive the English forces as in alliance with Holland. But the Cape officers, like the Dutch in Holland, were divided in their allegiance between the Patriot and the Orange factions, and they refused to recognise the mandate of a refugee prince, especially without instructions from their real masters, the Dutch East India Company. The English troops then landed under General Craig, and were reinforced shortly by 3,000 soldiers under General Sir Alured Clarke. After a short engagement the Dutch asked for an armistice, and the next day capitulated to the English, who took possession of the castle and the garrison of the Cape of Good Hope, and hoisted the British flag. Thus ended the rule of the Dutch East India Company in South Africa.

After the capitulation, the civil government and military command of the Cape were placed in the hands of General Craig, who became the temporary head of the English Government there. His brief rule was judicious and conciliatory; he interfered as little as possible with the existing state of things, and was respected by the Dutch. Soon after the news of the conquest of the Cape reached England the Government resolved to appoint Lord Macartney as Governor, and to vest in him all the power held by the Governor and Council of the Dutch East India Company. They also determined to greatly increase the garrison at Cape Town, and to make the officer in command the Lieutenant Governor. General Francis Dundas, nephew of the Secretary of State, was given this post, and Mr. Barnard was appointed Secretary to the Colony. In all these appointments the influence of Lord Melville may be clearly traced. The King rewarded General Craig with a K.C.B. for his services, and the decoration was taken out by the new Governor, Lord Macartney, who, with the Secretary of the Colony and Lady Anne Barnard, arrived at Cape Town in May 1797, and took over the duties of government. At this point Lady Anne's letters begin.

II

The Castle, Cape Town:

July 10th, 1797.

F ROM the Castle of Good Hope, situated within the garrison, over which towers the Table Mountain at a considerable real distance (the close apparent vicinity being from the effect of its height), and from the window of my bed-chamber, which overlooks a colonnade built around a spacious pond of water supplied from the head and tail of a spouting dolphin, I begin this letter to my dearest Friend, 9 firmly assured that he will be as much interested in its contents from private affection to the writer, as from curiosity to know every point, however minute, which regards a public concern. I am perfectly convinced that you must also receive along with this such numberless letters from others much better qualified to give you an account of everything worth your knowing, that it would seem almost conceited folly in me to describe things as they appear around me, or still more to give my miserable female notions on anything of importance, were it not that I know your friendship will contrive a general apology for everything silly or erroneous, and though all seems yellow to the jaundiced eye, all will seem rose colour and interesting to that partial pair of black sparklers with which you read the epistles of your female friend. You gave me leave to write freely whenever I would, and I promise that you shall find everything you wish to know – and some things you may not – from the honestest pen in the world (for I must not confine myself now to Europe). I never exaggerate – never; sometimes I may extenuate, but I set down naught in malice.

But to land us here properly, let me first return to the ship and bring up matter with a little regularity.

Our voyage on the whole was a prosperous one. We sailed from Plymouth the 23rd of February, and landed at the Cape the 5th of May. We had but few calms, and no storm such as to endanger the ship, though ten days of weather was so very rough as to give sufficient apology to a coward for being afraid, particularly from the rolling of the ship. We had, as you know, 272 great guns for Bengal aboard her, which often brought our upper guns under water, and rendered the beauties in their various cabins black and blue from the rolling and pitching the guns produced. We met with but few occurrences of consequence. The heat between the Tropics was excessive, but not beyond or equal to what I expected, as the thermometer was never above 84 degrees. We passed the Line exactly at twelve o'clock, the Sun in his Meridian, and on his way from his country seat of Capricorn to that of Cancer. I made a few little drawings of sharks, dolphins, flying fish, hardly worth your looking at, which I shall send to Margaret, 10 the only merit of which consists in their being literally just. All on board were well, partly owing to the dry weather, partly to the attentions of the Captain, who you very justly told me was one of the civilest and most liberal of men. Our mess mates numbered about twenty-four, and we all got on like lambs, except two, of whom I would say nothing, were it not that you must hear of them from others. I mean Captain Campbell and his Dutch wife. We were obliged to drop common conversation with them beyond the necessities of society. He contradicted all around him in a manner most unusual in civilised company, and as for Mrs. Campbell, after every fair attention on the part of the ladies on board, who were five beside herself, she seemed resolved to keep herself apart from all Englishwomen, apparently reserving herself to be head of the Dutch party instead of the English, and finding much fault with Government for sending to the Cape, as she says, a 'parcel of people who cannot please the Dutch, or be likely to adopt their manners.' I hope that her manners are not a specimen, and that her calculations will not prove good, as the Dutch are said to be eager to be well with the English. In any case Mr. Barnard and I mean to do all in our power to carry out your wishes, to conciliate them as much as we possibly can, and to meet their habits and the custom of the place half-way.

But to return to our voyage. The heat decreased as we passed the Tropic of Cancer, and, after having quitted our blankets and cloth habits, we all took to them again. Our course was pretty direct by the chart from the time we passed the Madeiras (where you made us go into a fine scollop to avoid certain French cruisers which we have since heard you had intelligence of) till we got into the latitude of the Cape, where contrary winds vexed us much, and blew us very nearly into the latitude where the 'Guardian' was lost by mountains of ice. However, five or six days produced a favourable change, and the joyful news of land being seen was announced, though in truth it was so enveloped in fog that we did not enjoy its appearance till we were exactly placed in the bay opposite to Cape Town. Then, as if by one consent, the Lion's rump whisked off the vapours with its tail; the Lion's head untied, and dropped the necklace of clouds which surrounded its erect throat, and Table Mountain, over which a white damask table-cloth had been spread half-way down, showed its broad face and smiled. At the same time guns from the garrison and from all the batteries welcomed His Majesty's Government, and the distant hills, who could not step forward to declare their allegiance, by the awful thunders of their acquiescing echoes, informed us that they were not ignorant of the arrival of the Governor, 11 who was at that moment putting his foot on land. Nothing could be finer than the coup d'œil from the Bay; yet nothing can have so little affinity with each other as the bold perpendicular mountains, bare and rocky, and the low white card houses, which from the distance seem even smaller than they are, and scarce large enough to hold an ant. But this is only appearance, in reality they are excellent. 12

The Thornborns, having heard of our arrival, sent us an invitation to come to their house, which was a blessing of no moderate sort, every place being crowded. Lord Macartney preferred going to one of the lodging-houses (indeed all the private houses, half a dozen excepted, are such) to incommoding Sir James Craig 13 by going to his abode. We walked from the Key to Mr. Thornborn's house, for though his carriage was sent to meet us, we preferred the feeling of hard land under our feet to all artificial conveyances. The first thing that struck me, strongly and disagreeably, was a very offensive smell in the air, and I afterwards found it in some of the houses: I was told it proceeded from the oil with which the slaves grease their hair. Waggons of wood next appeared, driven by one man, eight and ten horses moving with perfect docility to the crack of his whip. Next we saw more melancholy evidences of the far distant classes amongst human creatures – slaves returning from a seven or eight miles' distance, each man loaded with two bundles of sticks slung across his bare shoulders. It made one sigh at first in looking at the weight of the bundles; the only comfort was that one of them only was for the master, the other was for the private benefit of the slave. We walked up the town, which I found much superior in appearance and area, and in the size and accommodation of the houses, to what I had expected. We were kindly welcomed by the Thornborns, who let us make their house our home during ten days and, much unlike the Dutch system, would accept of no repayment. But she is an Englishwoman, he is a Dane, and both are the intimate friends of our sweet Doctor Gillan, 14 who I hope is at this moment as well as we wish him.

Long looked-for as Lord Macartney had been, his arrival seemed to give new life to languid spirits. Even the Dutch, who had vainly flattered themselves till a Governor came that a Governor never would come, and that the Cape would somehow or another fall back into the old hands 15 or be ceded to the French, seemed to have got a cold bath first, but revived health and alacrity of mind through certainty of the worst, and the necessity of beginning business again on an assured footing. This has not been the case during the procrastinated decisions of Sir James Craig, who has made it his policy to delay all unpleasant rules until the commencement of the new Governor's administration. I fancy that on the capture of the Cape, being too eager to obtain it, he made the terms of capitulation unnecessarily beneficial to the Dutch. He wished to be the friend and protector of the Cape people, and so unwittingly made himself the protector of Dutch impositions put upon the troops – a dear price for popularity. He considered these indulgences were merely temporary ones, as a Governor would soon arrive. Meantime, through his eagerness to conciliate and to keep well with the Dutch inhabitants of the Colony, we found that every article of life had been permitted to rise to an immoderate price, unchecked by any scheme of abatement by competition, or by prevailing on the farmers to bring down their stock, and that there was an actual scarcity of grain in the place. The number of mouths to be fed was now three times as many, while that granary which the Dutch policy had always kept filled with one or two years' grain beforehand, and which would now have stood us in good stead, had loaded a few ships, to be a breakfast for London and to prove the abundance of the Colony. Bread of course was raised, but not very essentially, as grain is ground all through, and brown bread of a coarser quality than what you have usually seen (of which I send you a bit), but I think good, is universally used, much to the annoyance of the Dutch, who reckon themselves undone if they are without the finest. They, however, sustain but little of this inconvenience, as they are too provident not to have a private stock of everything, which is kept up till an opportunity be found of selling to advantage; nor is there one house in Cape Town where any article may not be bought in a clandestine manner if a tempting price is paid. But the master pretends to know nothing of the matter, as there is a great degree of false pride amongst them, no one choosing to confess he does the things which all do, and all know are done.

Immediately on our arrival, Mr. Thornborn's house was filled with scarlet and blue coats, who came to visit us and to rejoice on our arrival. I should have felt sorry, when I listened to the dislike every individual expressed of the Cape without reserve, had I not hoped that many favourable changes would soon take place from Lord Macartney's wisdom, and from the acquisition society was gaining by a few good-humoured people being thrown into the leaven tub, which at that moment appeared to have too much acid in it. I plainly saw from General Craig's manner that he was disappointed at not remaining here himself, but, since he was not to do so, it was very agreeable to him to go to India. He appeared, however, to be much less sanguine in his expectations of the benefits arising to England from the Cape, or from the possibility of its being rendered flourishing, convenient, or any real acquisition to us, than I had imagined he would have been. He boldly said that the expectations formed from it, and of it, were too high. One could only pause and listen to this with a portion of regret, mixed with another little portion of distrust of a judgment which, though a very tolerable one in many respects, is not so extensive in its views or powers as some others I wot of. Admiral Pringle, 16 however, backed this gloomy view with six-and-thirty-pounder corroborations. He said that the Cape was the worst nautical situation it was possible for the devil himself to contrive, with fewer possibilities of harbourings or landing-places than could be conceived – no rivers, no water, torrents in plenty from the mountain tops, but nothing in the bosom of the earth. He imagined also that the Dutch policy was a sound one when they checked all population or improvement, for as the Colony improved and peopled he thought it would to us only prove a second America, and would be more likely in time to rob us of India than to secure it for us. He held all establishment of manufactures to be dangerous and foolish, and said that no pains should be taken with the interior of the country, but merely with the skirting of it, which could produce comforts to our people after their long voyages to and fro. All this the Admiral laid down much more clearly, God knows, than I repeat it; and he wound up by swearing that the Cape was the 'cussedest place' ever discovered, with nothing good in it, and that even the hens did not lay fresh eggs, so vile was every animal that inhabited the place.

There appeared to be no small mixture of prejudice, along with some reasonable causes of dislike, in all these explosions. I could only cry pause here also, and wait to hear the other side of the question; but this I was not likely to have from the military, who all to a man have disliked their quarters – nor is that much to be wondered at, as everything since the first capture of the Cape has been so extravagantly dear that the poor subalterns are both starved and undone. The private soldiers live well, and cheap, as beef, mutton, and bread are still reasonable, the first being only 2½d. per pound, raised to 4d. per pound now; and I suppose bread is not more, or so much, as in London, as our house bills for it amount to nearly the same sum as it cost us there. At first there was much drinking amongst the private soldiers, from the cheapness of the Cape wine, which could then be procured for about 3d. a bottle; but now I have heard there are wine taxes laid on it, or some way is contrived to render its attainment less easy and counteract its pernicious effects in the garrison, it being now 6d. a bottle, or more. Every other article of life (the three excepted – wine, bread, and butcher's meat) is extraordinarily dear. An officer, who comforts himself on going to this distant destination by the thought of living within his pay, is therefore disappointed in the extreme to find that he is obliged to spend more here than if he were in London. This is by no means owing to his purchasing English articles, as the products of the country are equally expensive – garden-stuff, fruit, eggs, butter, washing, labour, all are above all reason: an egg is 3d., a pound of potatoes 6d., a dish of cauliflower 1s. 6d., milk above 1s. per quart, the washing of a shirt 6d., oranges about the same price as in London, almonds, raisins, walnuts nearly the same, and every assistance of labour three times as much. All this, together with the high price of horses (an ordinary one being 30l. or 40l.), with fodder enormous and not to be obtained, besides the want of amusement of every kind, has made the military sick of this place, vexed as they have been with scarcity and poverty, and hipped with ennui. Perhaps their distance from the fountain of promotion may add to this, and the very little notice taken of the subaltern officers (which has come to a point Mr. Barnard and I think very cruel, and wish to mend as far as we can) has rendered them still more dispirited; no man here beneath a colonel, or major at least, being invited to anything.

I soon had an opportunity of judging of this. Sir James Craig gave a ball to the new Governor in honour of his arrival, to which we, of course, went. I must say it was a very pretty sight: the Government House in the gardens was beautifully lighted with every lamp in the Colony which could be brought together, and the walks, shadowed with oak trees, were bright as day, and had very pretty devices at the end of most of them. The ball-room was very long but somewhat narrow; perhaps it seemed narrow because it was lined with rows of Dutch ladies, all tolerably well-dressed, much white muslin about, and a good deal of colour. I had been told that the Dutch ladies were handsome as to their faces, but I saw no real beauty, though they were fresh and wholesome-looking; while as for manner, they had none, and graces and charms were sadly lacking, though they had a sort of vulgar smartness, which I suppose passed for wit. They danced without halting at all, a sort of pit-a-pat little step, which they have probably learned from some Beauty on her way to Bengal. They remind me very much of the women one might find at an assize ball in a country town. What they want most is shoulders and manners. I know now what is meant by a 'Dutch doll'; their make is exactly like them. But the most exceptional things about them are their teeth and the size of their feet. A tradesman in London, hearing their feet were so large, sent a box of shoes on speculation, which almost put the Colony in a blaze, so angry were the Beauties. But day by day a pair was sent for by a slave in the dark, until at last all the shoes vanished. But I think that these people will improve on acquaintance, and have only to be more understood; for my part, I am resolved to be pleased with everything. I was, at the ball, all smiles, as honesty here would be by no means the best policy. There were not many Dutchmen there; the Fiscal, 17 or head officer of Justice, the President of the Court, and one or two other men in public positions, appeared for a short time and then vanished, as if they were almost afraid of being seen there by each other. They cannot divest themselves of the opinion that the English will be obliged to cede the Cape to the Dutch, or to France, on a peace, and therefore do not want to get known as partisans of the English Government. As for the young Dutchmen, I saw hardly any; the young ones prefer smoking their pipes on the stoep, or perhaps they are altogether Jacobin. At any rate they were not there, and this brings me back to the point where I started.

I was surprised to see so small a portion of the military; no ensigns, lieutenants, or their wives. I asked about this, and found out that it is the ton of the general officers to discountenance the subordinate ranks from mixing in society. I think this is very bad for the young military, and I have heard that – for want of a better society, we shall suppose it – the garrison were much given to drinking and gaming. Every day this prevails less and less. General Dundas 18 does not encourage either – indeed, in my opinion, considerably the contrary. At review-dinners, and on such public festivities, he pushes about the bottle in a manly way; but except on these occasions never, and gaming he never gives in to. You would be pleased to see how wisely, temperately, and agreeably he conducts himself in his situation, how well he and Lord Macartney are together, and on what comfortable terms he is with all around him. I dwell the more on this, as there was a time when I remember hearing him called hot and haughty; if such things have been, or are, in his temper, they are at present checked and laid aside; he is a most pleasant member of society, and well liked by man and woman. I see also great satisfaction in every one with the manners of our Lord, who was expected to be cold and dignified, and fond of his own opinion, and stiff in maintaining it. Such was the public notion of him: he certainly has wished to impress it differently, and has succeeded. He promotes society, and is markedly attentive to the individuals who compose it, respects those inferior to himself in their departments, lays down rules with wise firmness but no mixture of pride, and is (I may say), as far as things have come, beloved. I shall only quote you the words of one smallish man, as it contains more than his own feelings. 'I am so glad,' said he, 'to find myself a gentleman now. I had begun to fancy myself a blackguard, but I look up to myself now from the manner Lord Macartney treats me.'

Lord Macartney, immediately on his arrival, declared his intention of living in the Government House in the garden, which he apprehended would not be too cold in winter, and which is certainly cooler than any other here in summer. General Dundas was the next to make his election; he preferred remaining in the second-sized house within the Castle – being fixed there with a proper bachelor establishment – to occupying the great Government House, which required more furniture and servants, and was fitter for a family. This he gave up to us, partly from good-humour and partly from the above reasons. It is a palace, containing such a suite of apartments as makes me fancy myself a princess when in it – but not an Indian or Hottentot princess, as I have fitted all up in the style of a comfortable, plain, English house. Scotch carpets, English linen, and rush-bottom chairs, with plenty of lolling sofas, which I have had made by regimental carpenters and stuffed by regimental tailors. In a week or two I shall invite all who wish to be merry without cards or dice, but who can talk, or hop to half a dozen black fiddlers, to come and see me on my public day, which shall be once a fortnight, when the Dutch ladies (all of whom love dancing, and flirting still more) shall be kindly welcomed, and the poor ensigns and cornets shall have an opportunity of stretching their legs as well as the generals. I shall not be stinted for room, as I have a hall of sixty feet, a drawing-room of forty, a dining-room of twenty, a tea-room of thirty, and three supper-rooms – in one of which only I shall have supper, and that cold and desultory, with side-boards and no chairs, as I wish to make my guests happy without being ruined by their drinking half a hogshead of claret every party. Ducks and chickens, etc., they shall have, but as turkeys are one pound apiece, I shall not fly at any of their excellencies.

At Rondebosch is the pleasantest country house belonging to Government, four miles' distance from the Cape; it has been occupied by General Campbell – Lord Macartney begged him and his wife to remain in it, which they have done. I like our house in the garrison better, however, than any we could have had elsewhere, as it is close by the office, where Mr. Barnard is from ten in the morning to three or four, and sometimes part of the evening. I ought perhaps to leave it to Lord Macartney to say how he is pleased with the Secretary; but to You I cannot resist expressing the great satisfaction I feel in seeing Mr. Barnard get through the business of his situation in a manner which I perceive is completely satisfactory to Lord Macartney, and so conciliatory to every one around him. I always knew that his abilities would be found equal to any demand that could be made on them, but I feel this conjecture established into a very pleasant certainty by having, on more occasions than one, seen Lord Macartney throwing on him very consequential decisions which have been invariably approved of, and even adopting from time to time alterations which Mr. Barnard has ventured to make in papers after Lord Macartney has approved of them. Lord Macartney, on the other hand, seems positively fond of, and most companionable with, Mr. Barnard, who appears, and is, as happy in his department as a man can be who thirsted after employment, had it bestowed on him by a friend he is glad to be obliged to, and feels himself equal to it.

With such reasons for being happy, if I tell you that I am happy, and I like the Cape, and see much of the disgust with which it is talked of by others as arising out of their own acrid humours, but half supported by the fact, you will not be surprised. You must, however, read my account of its merits, when I begin to expatiate on them, with some grains of allowance as well as those opinions against on the other side, as I know that I have a natural disposition to pick out flowers amongst weeds if I can, and to make the best of all 'existing circumstances.' But, independent of this being the turn of my mind, let us look at the facts. Here is a divine climate (at least I have found it so as yet), no fog, no damp, no variations to check the perspirations and fall on the lungs, but a clear, pure, yet not sharp air, full of health and exhilaration to the spirits. Here is scarcity, but here will be plenty, I am convinced, when the harvest comes round, which quickly follows the sowing here – at least a third quicker than in England. The farmers saw no certain market before for their grain, nor would they venture to sow what was in their granaries, for fear of its being reaped by they knew not whom. Now that there is a fixed government and a certain allowance for all, they can send down to the shore. Less will probably be raised this year than will be necessary to make things very cheap, but industry will be doubled next year, more slaves will be got, more cattle taken into the yoke, and plenty, I think, will ensue. The town is clean, one or two dirty circumstances attending the killing of animals excepted; the features upon Nature's face magnificently strong. I love these bold strokes with which the Almighty has separated the dry land from sea in His chaos. The bay opens beautifully at the foot of the mountains, while the Hottentot hills at twenty miles' distance rise in forms so stupendously eccentric that I look at them with admiration every time I see them. It is in the power of activity and taste to make this, by planting, the finest scene in the world. I have but little of either, but little as I have, if I was only sure of living a couple of hundred years, to see the effects of my labours, I would begin to plant to-morrow with alacrity those grounds round the town which, from their want of water, cannot be applied to any purpose save that of rearing wood, which I think they could do in plenty for the use of the town: the silver tree and Scotch fir particularly growing to perfection, 'and join the gentle to the rude.' The marriage of Miss Silver-tree with Donald Fir-tops is exactly what I quote, the lady being covered with leaves of grey satin, and the fir, stout, of a fresh bold green, and hardy as its countrymen. I hear you say, and you speak it like a great man, like a good man, like a man of a mind far more extensive than any country is, 'But why must you live to two hundred years to plant? Can't you plant though you should live only twenty years? – some one in future will have the benefit of it and thank you.' I can, to be sure – and I will, that is more. I will do as much as my private purse can fairly do for public spirit, but a great deal I can't, unless I can persuade others to do so too, as the ground so planted must be enclosed, else the little tender sticks would be torn up by the slaves for firewood in a twelvemonth's time.

There is a plan (I am not sure by whom suggested) of making a sort of navigable canal or connection by water, and by the Burgh river between the sea at False Bay (or Simon's Bay as they call it here), to fall into the salt river at the foot of the Table Mountain. If this could be done it would be a great thing for this place. The expense was talked of as great, but, Lord bless me! if we keep the Cape, John Bull would fill the subscription of 200,000l. in the course of a morning on 'Change.

But I must have done, or you'll think I'll never stop. Adieu, my dearest friend. My love to dear Lady Jane. Tell her to think of me sometimes in this land of ostriches, Kaffirs, and Hottentots. God bless you all.

III

The Castle, Cape of Good Hope:

August 10th, 1797.

I MUST begin my letter, my dear Friend, by telling you of the steps which have been taken to bring the people of the Cape into harmony with our English Government. There was a Proclamation to the effect that during a certain time, which was an ample one, they might come from all quarters and take the oath of allegiance to His Majesty. The gates of the Castle were thrown open every morning, and I was surprised to see so many come after what I had heard. Firstly came a number of well-fed, rosy cheeked men, with powdered hair, and dressed in black. They walked in in pairs with their hats off, a regulation on entering the Castle on public occasions which, in former days, Dutch pride imposed. They were followed by the Boers from the country – farmers and settlers who had come some very great distance. I think that many of them seemed very sulky and ill-affected; their manner seemed to say: 'There is no help for it. We must swear, for they are the strongest.' They are very fine men, their height is enormous; most of them are six feet high and upwards, and I do not know how many feet across; I hear that five or six hundred miles distant they even reach seven feet. They all came to the Cape in waggons, bringing a load of something to market at the same time. They were dressed in blue cloth jackets and trousers and very high flat hats. In fact, they struck me as overdressed, but the Hottentot servant who crept behind each, carrying his master's umbrella, on the other hand, was underdressed. He seemed to have little else to carry except a piece of leather round his waist and a sheepskin round his shoulders; one or two had a scarlet handkerchief tied round the head, sometimes an old hat ornamented with ostrich feathers, but very often they were bareheaded. I was told the Hottentots were uncommonly ugly and disgusting, but I do not think them so bad. Their features are small and their cheek-bones immense, but they have a kind expression of countenance; they are not so ugly as the slaves of Mozambique. I must try to sketch a face of every caste or nation here; the collection cannot be short of twenty.

I must now tell you a little about a Cape expedition of mine. Having been told that no woman had ever been on the top of the Table Mountain (this was not literally true, one or two having been there), and being unable to get any account of it from the inhabitants of this town, all of whom wished it to be considered as next to an impossible matter to get to the top of it, as an excuse for their own want of curiosity, and having found the officers all willing to believe the Dutch for ditto reason, laziness to wit, there was some ambition as a motive for climbing, as well as curiosity. And as Mr. Barrow 19 is just one of the pleasantest, best-informed, and most eager-minded young men in the world about everything curious or worth attention, I paid him my addresses and persuaded him to mount the mountain along with me. We were joined in the plan by two of my ship-mates, officers, and my maid chose to be of the party. I had a couple of servants, and a couple of boxes with cold meat and wine. Mr. Barrow and I slung round our shoulders tin cases for plants, of which we were told we should get great variety on the top of the mountain. It is 3,500 feet in height, and reckoned about three miles to the top of it from the beginning of the great ascent, the road being (or rather the conjectured path, for there is no road) necessarily squinted in the zigzag way which much increases the measurement of the walk. At eight o'clock in the morning Mr. Barrow and I, with our followers, set off. We reached the foot of the mountain on horseback, and dismounted when we could ride no more – indeed, nothing but a human creature or an antelope could ascend such a path.

We first had to scramble up the side of a pretty perpendicular cascade of a hundred feet or two, the falls of which must be very fine after rains, and the sides of which were shaded with myrtles, sugar trees, and geraniums. We continued our progress through a low foliage of all sorts of pretty heaths and evergreens, the sun at last beginning to beat with much force down on our heads, but the heat was not, though great, oppressive. Wherever we saw questionable stone or ore, Mr. Barrow attacked it with a hammer, which I had luckily brought for the purpose, but he found the mountain through all its strata, of which there are innumerable, composed of iron stone, and that at least to the quantity of fifty per cent. It made me smile to see the signs of human footsteps, in the quantity of old soles and heels of shoes which I came across every here and there. I suppose these relics have lain time im memorial, as leather, I believe, never decays, at least not for a great while. They proved that the Dutchmen told fibs when they said that few people had tried to get up this mountain. The sun and fatigue obliged me frequently to sit down; and as I had an umbrella with me, a few minutes always recruited me. At last, about twelve o'clock, the sun began to be so very hot that I rejoiced at the turn of the mountain, which I saw would soon bring us into the shadow, before we reached the great gully by which we were to get out on the top. Redoubling my activity, at last we made the turn, but it was wonderful the sudden chill which instantaneously came over us; we looked at our thermometers, and in a second they had fallen under the shadow fifteen degrees, being now 55, and before, on the brow of the hill, they were 70. We had now come to a fine spring of water, which fell from the top of the rock, or near it, over our heads; we drank some of it with port-wine, but it was too cold to have been safe, if we had not more way to climb. I saved a bottle of it for you, cher ami. Opposite there was a cave cut in the rock, which is occasionally inhabited by runaway negroes, of which there were traces.

Once more we set off, and in three hours from the bottom of the mountain reached the very tip-top of this great rock, looking down on the town (almost out of sight below) with much conscious superiority, and smiling at the formal meanness of its appearance, which would have led us to suppose it built by children out of half a dozen packs of cards. I was glad on this pinnacle to have a bird's-eye view of the country, the bays, and the distant and near mountains. The coup d'œil brought to my awed remembrance the Saviour of the World presented from the top of 'an exceeding high mountain 'with all the kingdoms of the earth by the devil. Nothing short of such a view was this. But it was not the garden of the world that appeared all around; on the contrary, there was no denying the circle bounded only by the heavens and sea to be a wide desert, bare, uncultivated, uninhabited, but noble in its bareness, and (as we had reason to know) possessing a soil capable of cultivation, a soil, which submits easily to the spade, and gratefully repays attention. On the top of the mountain there was nothing of that luxuriancy of verdure and foliage, flower or herbage, described by travellers; there were roots and some flowers, and a beautiful heath on the edge of the rocks, but the soil was cold, swampy, and mossy, covered in general with half an inch of water, rushes growing in it, and sprinkled all over with little white pebbles, some dozens of which I gathered to make Table Mountain earrings for my fair European friends. We now produced our cold meat, our port, Madeira, and Cape wine, and we made a splendid and happy dinner after our fatigues. When it was over I proposed a song to be sung in full chorus, not doubting that all the hills around would join us – 'God save the King.' 20 'God save great George our King,' roared I and my troop. 'God save – God save – God save – God save – God save – God save – God save – God save – great George our King – great George our King – great George – great George – great George – 'repeated the loyal mountains. 'The impression is very fine,' said Mr. Barrow, with his eyes glistening. I could not say 'Yes,' because I felt more than I chose to trust my voice with, just then, but I wished 'great George our King' to have stood beside me at the moment, and to have thrown his eye over his new colony, which we were thus (his humble viceroys) taking possession of in his name.

My servants shot a few pretty birds, which you shall see by-and-by, and we found it time to return home, which we could not reach, we saw, before six o'clock at night. Nothing was more singular than to look down far, far below, on the flag raised on the top of the Lion's head, a rock perpendicular, of some hundred feet, on the top of a great North Berwick law. It is round this rock that there is a constant necklace of clouds playing; but on this day all was clear. The person who keeps guard on this rock is drawn up by ropes fixed in a particular manner.

If it was difficult to ascend the hill, it was much more so to descend. The ladies were dressed for the occasion, else – I need not say more after the word 'else.' The only way to get down was to sit down and slip from rock to rock the best way one could. My shoes I had tied on with some yards of tape, which had been a good scheme. At last we reached home, not more tired than I expected we should have been, and more than ever convinced that there are few things impossible where there is, in man or woman, a decided and spirited wish of attainment. Doctor Pattison (a very amiable, sensible, and humane man sent out by the Admiralty as physician to the Navy Hospital) told me there was no sum he could not have won at the Cape against my ever reaching the top of Table Mountain. He said he would not take them in, for he knew I would do it if it was possible for anybody to do it, as I had said I would. I had found, however, no further gratification from having been there than the pleasure of being able to say, 'I have seen it,' for my fancy could have painted the same very prettily, without going up.

Since that time I have ridden round the Bay; the road is finer than any scene I ever saw in my life, or could have seen – that is to say, fine from mountains and sea. I must make some sketches of this road, but my time has been as yet wholly occupied with domestic cares. I am a Martha, with the full intention of being twenty better things by-and-by; meantime, as we have a great many people who eat and drink with us in a family way, and as it is extremely difficult to get many things, or servants to do them properly, I am obliged to be more of a useful than an accomplished female; but if I can in any way make things comfortable to my kind husband and his friends I am well employed. I see a great deal of your friends the Campbells – I mean the General and his wife. She is a good humoured, pleasant, good-looking creature with a very good heart, and is much calculated to render society pleasant and easy. The General you know to be a respectable and gentleman-like man. Of the other Campbells I cannot say so much. In my former letter I mentioned how much they had endeavoured to make themselves disagreeable in their various ways on board ship; I had really been afraid from what General Hartley said (and from her own manners) that she would endeavour to set up a Dutch party against the Englishwomen going out; but I am glad to find that nothing is in her power. She is very much disliked here, even by her countrywomen, and he equally so, nor would she be at all in the foreground of society was she not tempted (which I will suppose is by a love of receiving notice) to go rather too great lengths with most of the gentlemen to obtain it. Her character has not yet had time to be very naughty, but with three or four flirtations going on at present it is rather equivocal. Amongst the Dutch women this is nothing – each one has her lover, and, if more, it only the more proves her charms. I have blushed to hear one of her sisters make her child count up 'Mama's sweethearts' on its little fingers, when some of the sweethearts present knew it to be no joke, as some others in England could have corroborated. Captain Campbell was very haughty at first to everybody, but I believe he has been taken down some pegs by Admiral Pringle. We had them to dine here lately – we wish to have no quarrels and no miffs. They had wished to miff with us, but we are so civil, without familiarity, that they cannot make it out, so now they eat our mutton, and gulp.

Amongst a few gentlemen who augur more good from the Cape than others is Mr. Thornborn – he thinks highly of its powers and fertility. Mr. Barrow also is of this party; both of these, however, think that this is not the best situation for the Capital, but that Simon's Bay would have been better, had it water, and water I dare say might be found if dug for skilfully. I wish the King would send out his friend Lady Millbank with her hazel wand – she would poke up and down till she found plenty, and we should have a second 'Judith's well,' as at the Duke of Manchester's. It is thought that hemp might be raised here with benefit to our mother country and with success. There is no barley here – that is a grain which should also be brought. Beef is certainly inferior to what it is in England, and so is mutton, which is not thought of on t'other side of the water. The fat of the first is too yellow, and of the last too white, but neither is at present well fed. The sheep's tails are very useful for anything lard would be used for, as they are much purer than lard, and far better than the butter here. At first one has a prejudice against them, but now I have them used and say nothing. Poultry is about as good as in England, but milk and butter inferior, and the Cape cows good for nothing; the half-breed along with the English ones are better, and sell very high. I had an English cow, but she is no more – she died of rheumatism and a liver complaint. I had no good fare for her, poor cow, and a long walk every day to pick up her grass did not agree with her.

I hope soon to have poultry and vegetables of our own, as there is a little Government cottage at the bottom of the mountain, called 'Paradise,' which Lord Macartney has given us to be rural in. It has not enough of ground uncleared to have a cow, but it will at least raise us chickens and potatoes. There is no road to it – or rather a road practicable only on horseback – but as it is only a place to hide our heads in the shade when the sun gets sultry, we don't much care about that. The roof is thatched and old, admitting the rain, which rots the timbers; but a new roof of reeds, which the place will furnish, will not cost much. There is a little hasty stream of water, a clump of firs, a good many old orchard trees, a few orange trees, a perpendicular rock behind, and a far extended view of mountains and sea before, the intermediate space being uncultivated heath or short stubbed wood, good for little but the oven. Of a Saturday John and Joan and Jane the cousin will 'noddy' it down, leaving the carriage at the bottom of the hill to walk up it, and will there hide themselves till Monday, visited only by a few monkeys from the mountains, perhaps a wolf, possibly some runaway negroes, but all these (the monkeys excepted, who are frequent in their visits) are rather bugbears than realities. A few scarlet coated aides-de-camp, Messieurs Collier and Crawfurd, part of the number, are more likely to break up our retirement, and possibly my Lord himself in his morning's ride; but he shakes his head when I talk of a bed. Alas! it was at Paradise that I may almost say I last saw poor Anguish. 21 He was a good-humoured, easy-tempered young man, whom we were all disposed to love, and who promised fair to contribute to the pleasures of our society. I asked him to go with me to look at this cottage at the time that we saw it was attainable. I never saw him in better spirits. He and I used often to laugh with each other at the 'Malcontents,' as we called them – the English who grumbled about the Cape – he finding novelties and amusements everywhere, as I did, and as Barrow did. 'I think,' said he, 'if the Comptroller of the Customs was to be master of this little place, which some folks would call miserable, he would be contented to give up London and remain here quietly and lazily all his days.' He then went on to say how much more comfortable he now was than he ever had been, that his income was fixed equal to his best hopes through your and Lord Macartney's kindness, and that from its date he even now possessed a little matter to make him clear with the world. In short, I thought him rather a happy man. He was not, however, altogether in good health, as I afterwards heard, and had been taking some medical prescriptions. I thought by a transient glance I had of him one day soon after that his countenance seemed heated and confused, but I never saw him again. He left universal regret behind him, and the full conviction that mental malady had been produced by bodily malady only; for he had done nothing to reproach himself with. I never cease thinking of him when I drive past his grave, which must be passed on going to the Review ground.

Talking of Reviews – the troops here, I fancy, are esteemed to be in fine order. To me they appear well-dressed, well-matched men, and better-looking than any of the lately raised regiments I saw in England. I hear of no disturbances, and sleep secure every night in the garrison with 700 men. Desertion is over, and many of those that had deserted are returned since the proclamation; amongst others, a man who has been absent above a year, and who bears an unlettered testimony to a matter which has been doubted – the existence of the unicorn 22 in the interior parts of Africa. Some years ago, some of the natives had expressed their surprise at seeing it in the King's arms, and when they were asked if they would procure such an animal for a sum of money they had shuddered, saying, 'Ay, to be sure,' but he was 'their god.' This soldier's evidence corroborates this; he describes the 