The freeing of the slaves came in the second quarter of the nineteenth century. Think of it, not ninety years ago! And a short time before Matthew Lewis wrote—

“The higher classes are in the utmost alarm at rumours of Wilberforce's intention to set the negroes entirely free; the next step to which would be in all probability a general massacre of the whites, and a second edition of the horrors of St Domingo.”

It must have been with some misgivings then, that the great day dawned when the slaves were not exactly set free, but made apprentices for a short time to accustom them to this new-found freedom.

And the apprenticeship seems to have been a ghastly failure. It took away from the slave the protection of the well-meaning master who could not afford to spend lavishly upon property, to whose services in a very short time he would have no right, and it left him entirely at the mercy of the man who had no conscience, and who simply set out to get as much as he could out of the slave while he was in his power.

Even England was doubtful as to the effect of her step, and she sent out certain magistrates who were looked upon with suspicion by the planter, and only by definitely siding with the white man in all disputes were they agreeable to the ruling classes. A Dr Madden is one of these, and his description of life in Jamaica is graphic, though when I read how he had to part with his little boy, whose life he dared not risk in so perilous a climate, and then of the long voyage to the other end of the earth, I see how far those ninety years have taken us.

Lady Nugent, writing about a quarter of a century before, was great on the deadly climate of Jamaica. She goes to Moneymusk, which then belonged to a widow, with whom were staying two other ladies, also widows. “Alas,” writes Lady Nugent, “how often in this country do we see these unfortunate beings.” (Mrs Sympson of Moneymusk doesn't seem to have deserved this epithet. The estate was managed by her, and apparently well managed.) “Women rarely lose their health, but men as rarely kept theirs.” She doesn't put two and two together, though she is always referring to poor Jamaica as “this horrid country,” “this deceitful, dreadful climate.” Certainly the number of deaths among those around her, presumably her friends, was a little appalling. But considering that she herself called attention to the way the people ate—and drank—I don't know why she should have blamed the climate.

Things hadn't improved when Madden came on the scene nearly a generation later. The amount of drink a gentleman consumed at dinner was astonishing.

“Half a bottle of Madera or so,” he writes sarcastically, “can never do a man any harm in a hot climate, and sangaree and brandy and water are all necessary to keep up his strength, for people of all countries are the best judges of the mode of living in their own climate.”

This kindly magistrate took too much interest in the slave to have been quite acceptable to the planter of that day, who seems still to have regarded the negro as belonging to a lower order of creation and liked to feel that he—the negro—owed all benefits to the kindly indulgence of his master.

He attended on one occasion a Baptist chapel in Kingston where the minister was a negro of the name of Kellick—“A pious, well-behaved, honest man, who in point of intelligence and the application of scriptural knowledge to the ordinary duties of his calling and the business of life, might stand a comparison with many more highly favoured, by the advantages of their education and standing in society. I was first induced to attend this man's chapel from motives of curiosity, not unmixed I fear with feelings of contempt for its black parson; I confess after I had heard him for a short while expound the scriptures, and prescribe to his congregation (all of whom were negroes like himself) on their duties as Christian subjects and members of society, and then his earnest and humble petition to the Almighty for a blessing on his little flock, and the hymn which closed the service, in which the congregation joined in one loud but very far indeed from discordant strain, I felt, if the pomp and circumstance of religious worship were wanting here to enlist the senses on the side of devotion, there were motives in this place, and an influence in the ministry of this man (however he might have been called to it, or by what forms fitted for its duties) which were calculated to induce the white man who came to scoff to remain to pray.”

This of a man who but quite recently must have risen from slavery. He received from the contributions of his congregation about £100 a year, which it was understood was for the upkeep of the chapel as well. Madden thought it very little, but Madden is a nice man with large ideas, and I feel sure the Rev. Kellick was not only quite satisfied with what he received, but intensely proud of the position he held. As indeed he had every right to be. He had come a long, long way by a very thorny path.

Madden gives the usual account of the negroes. “Generally speaking, the negroes of the present day have all the vices of slaves. It cannot be denied that they are addicted to lying, prone to dissimulation, and inclined to dishonesty....” Now what else I wonder did they expect of a slave. But he goes on to say that in the late rebellion—of 1881-32—“In no instance did the negro swerve from his fidelity to his comrades; in not a single instance was the name of the real author of that rebellion disclosed. I venture to intimate that even the rebellious negro has a sentiment of honour in his breast when he encounters death rather than betray one of his accomplices. I hazard an opinion that humanity has its impulses in his heart, when he shelters his fugitive countryman, and shares his last morsel of bread with him rather than turn the outlaw from his door, and save himself from the fearful consequences of harbouring a runaway.”

It seems strange that ninety years ago it had to be explained to the civilised world that the negro was like other men, capable of great heights and abominable depths. That a little more than a hundred years ago, so great was the prejudice against colour that a man whose grandmother had been a negress was not allowed to be a constable, could not inherit property beyond the value of £1200 sterling, nor give evidence in criminal cases.

“It was the fashion,” writes Madden, “to regard him with jealousy and distrust, as a rebel in disguise, who was to be branded as such on all plausible occasions.”

But though the laws might prevent a coloured man from inheriting money, they did not prevent his making it, and when he himself became a slave owner a very curious state of affairs arose. The danger of slave risings was always present, and the coloured planters like the white had to have on their estates “deficiency men,” white men, one for every ten slaves. But so strong was the feeling on the question of colour that these men whom their necessities compelled to take service with the sons or grandsons of slaves, declined to sit at meat with them. The owner had to have a side table set for himself, while his white servants sat at the principal one.

And the coloured people came into existence so naturally.

At first, as we have seen, many of the planters for very good reasons never brought their wives to their estates. Then again, overseers, book-keepers, and other employees could not afford to marry; they came to the country, and there were many it was said at the beginning of the last century who might be in the country over a dozen years without ever speaking to a white woman. What more natural than that they should form alliances with the good-looking daughters of the slaves who were under them. Such connections were looked upon with approval by the owners and attorneys. A white man was always bothered to take a wife, at least so I gather from the perusal of old stories of Jamaica.

“Why massa no take him one wife like oder buckras? Dere is little Daphne would make him one good wife—dere is one Diana—dere is little Venus—dere is him Mary Magalene, an' dere is him Phoebe.”

Sometimes it was the other way round and he couldn't get a wife, for if there was a prejudice against a man the word went forth in the slave quarters, and not a girl would look at him.

Very naturally being Christians did not affect this relationship. No white man would really marry a dark girl were she beautiful as the rising dawn. A white lover meant advancement in a coloured girl's world, and she in her turn often gained great influence over the man who had chosen her. Indeed the majority of these women were faithful, tender and loving. They were not always the wisest of housekeepers, I am afraid—how should they be—and the Great House so managed was apt to be dirty, untidy, wasteful, slatternly. Its mistress had never seen anything better, had seldom had a chance to train.

The position grew to be accepted as the best for a coloured girl, infinitely preferable to that of matrimony with one of her own shade. There was no loss of caste, indeed the girl gained by being associated with the white man. It came to be that the man would give a bond to pay down a certain sum upon his marrying or leaving the island to the girl he had chosen for his temporary mate, and it not infrequently happened that this sum was so great that he was virtually unable ever to leave her. They say that many a coloured man made such a bargain for his daughter.

But this was in the days when life was easier for the slave, when a coloured man had some rights, even though no white man would sit at meat with him or marry his daughter.

It was sometimes very hard on the children of such alliances. Madden gives a vivid account of a visit he paid to an estate that had belonged to an uncle of his, and that had been mismanaged and gone to wrack and ruin.

“I arrived at the ruined works of Marly after a fatiguing ride of five hours in the wildest district of St Mary's Mountains,” he writes. “The dwelling-house was situated on a mountain eminence” (they always are) “about two hundred feet above the works, the remains of a little garden that had probably been planted by the old proprietor was still visible on the only level spot in front of the house, a few fruit trees only remained, but it seemed from the place that had been enclosed, and was marked by a long line of scattered stones, the soil that was now covered with weeds had been formerly laid out in flower plots. In going from the ruined works to the house, I missed my road amidst the rank verdure which nearly obliterated every trace of a path; so that I traversed a considerable part of the property without meeting a human being. The negro huts at some distance from the house were all uninhabited; the roofs of them had tumbled in, and had the appearance of being long unoccupied. The negro boy who accompanied me was very anxious for me to return to Claremont, and said it was no good to walk about such a place, buckras all dead, niggers all dead too, no one lived there but duppies and Obeah men. It was certainly as suitable a place for such folk as one could well imagine. I proceeded, however, to the house and went through the ceremony of knocking at the door, but received no answer; the door was ajar and 1 took the liberty of walking into the house of my old uncle.

“The room I entered was in keeping with the condition of the exterior, every plank in the naked room was crumbling to decay. I opened one of the side doors, and, to my great surprise, I perceived two women as white as any inhabitants of any southern climates, and tolerably well clad, standing at an opposite window, evidently alarmed at my intrusion. I soon explained to them the nature of my visit, and requested permission to rest for a short time after my fatiguing journey. In a few minutes two other young females and a very old mulatto woman of a bright complexion made their appearance from an adjoining room, and what was my surprise at learning that the two youngest were the natural daughters of Mr Gordon, the person who purchased the property out of Chancery, the two others, the daughters of my uncle, Mr Theodosius Lyons, and the old woman their mother! The eldest of her daughters was about forty years of age, the other probably a year or two younger; and the resemblance of one of them to some members of my family was so striking that the moment her name was mentioned I had no difficulty in recognising her origin. The poor women were delighted to see a person who called himself a relation of their father; but with the feeling there was evidently a good deal of suspicion mingled as to the motives of my visit, and of apprehensions that I had come there for the purpose of taking possession of the property; and all I could say to remove this impression was certainly thrown away, on the old woman at least.

“I do not wonder at it, for they had received nothing but bad treatment from those who ought to have been kind to them, as well as from strangers for nearly forty years since the death of their natural protector, who dying suddenly left them utterly unprovided for. They were left free, but that was all. One son, however, was not left free; and that young man was sold with the rest of the movable property of the estate when it was sold in Chancery. The aged and infirm negroes were then left on the estate; but a few years ago these poor creatures who had grown old on the property and had expended the strength of their young days on its cultivation, and who imagined that they would have been allowed to have laid their bones where their friends and relatives were buried, were carried away by the creditors and actually sold for three or four dollars a head.”

“Who,” Madden asks, “in the face of such circumstances as these will tell me that slavery in these colonies was productive of no oppression in recent times, or was the occasion of no injustices?” He dilates on the undoubted fact that many a West Indian proprietor could not be got to look upon Jamaica as his home. He wanted to get as much money as he could out of the estate, and then to retire to his native land. So all improvements were grudged, “The Great House fell into decay, the roads were left without any adequate repair, the plantation was cultivated for its present advantages and without regard for its prospective ones; and the system of labour exacted from the negroes was productive of circumstances, which the proprietor considered in combination with the other discomforts of his situation, were unsuitable to the condition of a woman of refinement accustomed to the enjoyments of English society.”

He speaks very highly of the coloured mistresses; although he deplores such connections, and says: “They cannot be defended, but I think the victims of the state of things which led to them are more deserving of pity than of reproach. I do not remember to have heard of the fidelity of anyone of these persons being called into question. In the periods of their prosperity they know their situation, and demean themselves accordingly. In their adversity, when death or pecuniary embarrassments deprive them of the protection they may have had for many years, their industry and frugality deserve the highest praise.”

The 1st of August 1834, the day when the slaves passed from slavery to a position of apprenticeship, was looked forward to in Jamaica with dread on the part of the whites, and, says Madden, with extravagant hopes by the blacks. But it passed. The servile race made one little step upward, and not a single riot occurred in the island, “not a single man, woman or child was butchered to make a negro holiday.” As a matter of fact, the negroes went to church.

“I visited three of the sectarian chapels on the 1st of August,” says Madden, “during the morning, mid-day, and evening services; and I was greatly gratified at the pains that were taken to make the negroes sensible of the nature of the change that had taken place in their condition, and the great benefits they had to show their gratitude for, under Him Who had brought them out of bondage, to their benefactors both at home and in England, who expected of them to be good Christians, good citizens, and good servants.”

He does indeed recall one little incident. A drunken sailor was tormented by some small black boys. They threw stones at him, and as he reeled after them they scampered away, shouting most lustily to each other.

“What for you run away? We all free now. Buckra can't catch we. Hurra for fuss of Augus! hi! hi! fuss of Augus! hurra for fuss of Augus!”

On that night, too, there was a grand ball given by the black and brown people, to which the General and his Staff were invited. “Miss Quashaba, belonging to Mr C., led off with Mr Cupid, belonging to Mr M., while Mrs Juno, belonging to Mr P., received the blacks and buckras.”

It took a long while to shake off the shackles.

Besides, we must never forget there was a kindly side to slavery. Many of the white people took a great interest in their slaves, and at the slave balls many a slave girl was decked out in her mistress's jewels. Indeed, there was much competition among the ladies as to whose waiting-maid should make the best show.

They received instruction, too, these slaves, and sometimes the instruction given was extraordinary enough. Madden tells how on one occasion a girl was brought before him to give evidence against a fellow apprentice. He asked if she knew the nature of an oath, and her mistress was a little hurt that a girl of seventeen, who had been in her charge for so long, should be asked such a question. Nevertheless, he persisted in asking the question, and the girl replied, to the no small discomfiture of her mistress and the surprise of the crowded Court—“Massa, if me swear false my belly would burst, my face would be scratched, and my fingers would drop off!” And Madden dismissed the case for want of better testimony, though really, I think, if the girl feared such unpleasant things would happen to her if she lied, he might have trusted her to tell the truth. But that, I am aware, is a very modern view.

Slavery was abolished for good and all in 1838. The intention, when Madden came to the island, was to abolish it in 1840, but the apprenticeship which was substituted seems to have been very unsatisfactory, and I have read books by Quaker and Baptist missionaries which are full of the suffering of the freed slaves under these conditions. Up till 1734 the owners had the right to punish their slaves by mutilation, which, of course, often meant death, but though it was abolished, there are many ways, as we have seen, of making the life of a slave unbearable. If the apprentice did not please his master he sent him to the nearest workhouse, and many are the ghastly tales of the tired men and women worked in the tread-mill. It takes a long, long while for mercy and pity and kindly friendliness to make its way.

Madden shows us too a side of slavery which I confess had not struck me.

“The law, as it now stands,” he writes, “does permit the father to hold his own son in bondage, and the son to demand the wages of slavery from his own mother, and to claim the services of his own sister as his bondswoman. These horrors are not merely possible contingencies that may be heard of occasionally; they are actual occurrences, two of which came before me within the last three months.

“A Jew of this town had a young mulatto man taken up for refusing to pay wages. It turned out that these wages were demanded from his own son, his child by one of his negro slaves.... I most reluctantly fixed for that obdurate father the wages of a son's slavery, but in amount the lowest sum I had ever ordered.”

And it was not always the whites who were the unkind and grasping masters. A free 'black' came before him on one occasion, claiming the services of a runaway slave and her four children.

She had been absent for many months, and in support of his claim the plaintiff adduced the fact that she was his sister, the daughter of his own mother, and that both mother and daughter had been bequeathed to him, and the mother had died in slavery. The astonished magistrate puts it on record that he could hardly believe his own ears. Only, unfortunately, there was no manner of doubt as to the legality of his claim.

But Madden was something of a Solomon. He told the woman she must prepare to go back, they were all slaves, or at least apprentices except the youngest, who was not six years of age, but he would defer giving his decision for a couple of days, so that as many of the coloured population of Kingston as possible might be afforded the opportunity of witnessing the event. The claimant in vain protested that he was quite willing to receive back his slaves without any such public ceremony, but the magistrate was adamant. He assured the claimant that no pains would be spared to give the decision in his favour all the solemnity which the utmost publicity could give it. There was such a buzz of approval in the Court that the master was in little doubt as to what would happen a couple of days later, so he said he thought of giving the woman her liberty, or at any rate allowing her to buy it at a very low rate, but the children he would have, and no price would induce him to relinquish his claim to them. The poor mother looked the picture of despair. He should have them, declared the just magistrate; it should be out of the power of any human being in Jamaica for the future to dispute his claim or to call in question the title by which he had held his own mother in slavery till the day of her death. The Court was with the magistrate and against the black slave-holder, for at last he said in a low tone he would give his sister her freedom, and Madden promptly drew up the manumission paper. But when the black man read it over he refused to sign. Madden made a dramatic scene of it. He knew he had the sympathy of the Court for the woman.

“I was in the act of tearing up the document when the audible groans of his own people induced him again to take the paper. I allowed myself to be persuaded to let him have it—the paper was in his hand—humanity did not guide it but shame did—he signed the paper, and never was there a manumission performed with so bad a grace.”

The man still claimed the children, but he had to deal with not only a very kindly man, but a very wise one, whose heart was full of pity for the poor mother, who evidently had no faith in the kindliness of her brother. The two little boys, mulattoes of seven and eight—the oldest the man had already—clung terrified to their mother, and the magistrate had them and the complainant placed before the bench “to prevent any sudden disappearance.” Then, with the wisdom of the serpent, he began to praise this man's generosity, “to extol his humanity and to put his heart on the best of terms with itself,” and finally he got the freedom of those two little children. Clever, kind, Dr Madden!

In contrast to this black man he tells the story of a Mr Anderson, from whom he desired to buy the freedom of a slave, an Arabic scholar, a man who had come from the hinterland of the Guinea Coast, from Timbuctoo, was well born, and had had such an education as that town afforded. Madden hoped to raise the money by public subscription, for he could not afford it himself, for this was a very exceptional man, worth over £300.

“Say no more,” said his master at once. The man had been a good servant to him—a faithful and a good negro—and he would take no money for him—he would give him his liberty!

“I pressed him to name any reasonable sum for his release but he positively refused to receive one farthing in the way of indemnity for the loss of that man's services!”

It is refreshing to read such a story.

How much slavery was liked we may judge from the fact that even now with freedom within a few years of them—six at the very most—many a slave was anxious to purchase his freedom from the apprenticeship system. He had to apply to the special justice, and he called upon the master to appoint a local magistrate, and the two magistrates meeting, named a third, who must also be a local magistrate, two for the master and one for the slave; and then according to the age, sex, health, and occupation of the slave in question they decided his value. The amount to be adjudicated was left entirely to the discretion of the magistrates without reference to any scale of valuation, and in some instances the valuation rose to £170 “a sum which no negro certainly has sold for for many a long year in Jamaica,” says Madden.

As a rule, according to Madden, the value of a slave did not run so high. He says, in all eighty apprentices obtained their freedom before him either by valuation or by mutual agreement, and the average valuation was £25. It does not seem much for the services of a man, even if it were only for four years. In one instance, a tradesman was valued at £80, but as a rule the price ranged between £16 and £35. Madden says he attended a great many slave sales, and has never seen a negro sell for more than £30.

When slaves were condemned to death for any offences, it was extraordinary the value their masters put upon them. At first £40 was considered ample indemnity, but it rose, till at last £180 sterling was asked from the public funds for indemnity for a slave condemned to death.

“This indemnity,” says Madden, “ought to be abolished, it is a bonus on negro executions,” And he cites a case in which an owner received £605 for his executed slaves, “however little he might have desired to have profited by such means, while for as many living negroes when the compensation is paid, he will receive from the British Government probably about £240.”

Peace did not come with the apprenticeship. The planters seem to have resented it immensely, and feeling ran high. Their first act was to take from the negroes all those allowances and customary gratuities which were not literally specified in the new law. They were free—well, they should see what freedom was like.

Then after the 1st of August, according to Madden, there were various outrages committed not by the negroes but by the whites upon the blacks, and it was exceedingly hard to get a conviction.

“A planter,” he writes, “has been indicted for shooting at an old woman, and after wounding her severely, discharging the second barrel at her, but fortunately without effect. The grand jury ignored the bill.

“Another gentleman was indicted for an outrage on a sick negro woman. The grand jury ignored the bill.

“Another planter was indicted for the murder of his negro by shooting him, and was sentenced to nine months' imprisonment.

“Another gentleman, an overseer, was committed to jail a few weeks ago for the murder of a boy, by shooting at a number of negroes assembled in a hut in the act of singing hymns. He has not yet been tried, but from the exertions making for him I have no expectation he will be convicted.

“Another gentleman was tried... for causing one of his negroes to be severely torn by dogs, for going without permission to bury his wife, who had been dead three days, and who had been refused sufficient time to prepare her coffin.

“The strenuous exertions of the Chief Justice obtained a conviction. He was fined £100.

“But in the majority of cases convictions are not to be expected.”

How strangely it reads in these days.

Before he closes his book he goes on to analyse the price of slaves, and arrives at the conclusion that the average price of all the slaves that have been imported into the West Indies may be estimated at about £40 sterling.

All the sorrow, all the woe, all the long drawn-out suffering, and yet each individual for his life might be counted as worth £40 sterling!

I have found no chronicler who describes the actual freeing in the same graphic way as Madden told us of the apprenticeship. I think we may be sorry for both sides.

We must pity the helpless black man who had been accustomed to guidance all his days, adrift in a land where he owned nothing, and had not the faintest idea either of the value of his services or the cost of his own upkeep. We may pity the planters who had to work their estates with labour in such an uncomfortable state of unrest.

For five and twenty years a sort of ominous peace reigned. Neither the planters nor their whilom slaves were content. There seems to have been a sort of feeling among the whites which is best represented as—“Well, you've got your freedom! Now are you as well off as when as slaves we took care of you!” And very often I am afraid they took care their black helots should not be as well off.

Not that the coloured people did not advance. They did. But their advancement was a threat. In the streets of untidy Kingston the coloured and black people met and grumbled and discussed local politics at all the street corners, the very conventicles where they went to pray were hotbeds of discontent. It is no good saying they were ungrateful. They were not. They had rights, but it always takes a long time to make those who will suffer in the conferring of a great benefit understand that in spite of their discomfort that benefit the good of the greater number, must be conferred. I can quite understand the black people vaguely wanting the rights they did not understand, to land, to better pay, to education, and the white people saying—“What are we to do for service? These people are clods. They cannot appreciate such privileges. Why make a fuss about them?”

A planter would say—“That man!” in tones of scorn, “why, I remember him a little yellow piccaninny, the son of my black mammy, and there he is in a high collar and tall hat in the Assembly, laying down the law to his betters. Damned impudence! In my father's time his back would soon have made acquaintance with the 'cat,' That would straighten him out!” And both coloured and white would be bitterer for the recollection.

I think there was a certain fear among the whites of the growing power among the blacks. A desire to keep the subject race in its place.

Naturally, most naturally. I am sure had I lived in those times I should have sided with them, for a black man, ignorant and aggrieved, and armed with a hoe or a machete can be a very unpleasant opponent.

The brooding discontent grew and grew, fomented, said the white people by men of the half-blood like George William Gordon, men of some standing and education, and at last on the 11th October 1865, at Morant Bay in the east of the island, the place where the people from Nevis had settled in the seventeenth century, the smouldering discontent burst into flame. The blacks rose, overwhelmed the volunteers by sheer numbers and slew not only all the white magistrates assembled in the Courthouse, but among them a black man who was much respected among the white people and had risen to be a magistrate.

The tale of rebellion seems always the same. The assailed have feared and feared, and yet when the moment comes, are taken by surprise. It was so now. Twenty-two civilians were killed, thirty-four wounded and nearly all the public buildings in Morant Bay were burnt down. Edward John Eyre was Governor of Jamaica at the time.

In Australia Eyre had been a great man. Wonderfully he had explored desolate lands; he was Protector to the Aborigines, and counted a man who was just to colour. But Jamaica broke him.

The whites fled before the blacks in the first rush, as it has ever been. There were women and children crouching in the wet jungle at night, fearing for their lives, and because of those who feared, and those who were dead, the whites gathered themselves together, proclaimed martial law, and took ample—nay, bloody—vengeance. But martial law was not proclaimed in Kingston, and because it was not proclaimed there, Gordon, who had been born a slave, the son of his master, and had risen to a place in the Assembly, was taken out of Kingston, and after a hasty trial hanged by martial law as instigator of the rebellion on, it is said, very scanty evidence. Under that same law 439 coloured men suffered death—354 by sentence of the court-martial, and the others shot by those employed in putting down the rebellion, soldiers, sailors, and our old friends the Maroons. And after martial law ceased, 147 more were put to death, while everywhere negro houses went up in flames.

In truth they put down that rebellion with a heavy hand, for the white man feared the black, who outnumbered him fifty to one.

There was a storm over it in England. But it was all very well for the people there, safe in their easy-chairs, to judge those who had quenched the negro rebellion. Everyone of them would probably have been on the side of Eyre had they been in Jamaica in the month of October 1865. Many, doubtless, mourned Gordon, the champion of the black man, put to death on such insufficient evidence. His looks may belie him, but he does not look a philanthropist. All the white people on the island crowded to bid Eyre farewell when he and his family left Kingston, for they regarded the prompt measures he had taken as having saved the country from all the horrors of a black insurrection. And in speaking of “black” here I mean simply mob rule, the condition of affairs that must needs prevail when the ignorant get the upper hand. Pity is forgotten, riot and flame and bloodshed prevail. And from this Eyre undoubtedly saved Jamaica.

Punch took his side and had a cartoon in which the shade of Palmerston reproaches Disraeli, and says that he would never have abandoned Eyre.

“Ye savages thirsting for bloodshed and plunder,

Ye miscreants burning for rapine and prey;

By the fear of the lash and the gallows kept under

Henceforth, who shall venture to stand in your way?

Run riot, ravage, kill without pity,

Let any man how he molest you beware;

Beholding how hard the Jamaica Committee

To ruin are trying to hunt gallant Eyre,”

wrote Punch, and it represents the feeling of a large section of the community, a section to which I know I should have belonged. Punch does not enter into the question as to why there should be “savages thirsting for bloodshed and plunder,” and “miscreants burning for rapine and prey.” Those were not the question of the moment. They are questions for all time.

We think now, we are all agreed, black and white, that there must be no bloodshed and plunder, and there must be no section of the community to whom such a state of things shall seem desirable.