He had doubted at Honolulu if the navies of the world held such another ship as the Cormorant, and the answer came to his door.

  There was also the merchant service: the captains and officers of the mail-steamers, both of the San Francisco vessels and the local New Zealand boats. “ Captain Smith of the Taviuni,” as Mr. Osbourne reminds me, “once paid a visit to Vailima with some friends. On his road home he passed the Ala Loto Alofa, on which the chiefs were then working like good fellows. He asked — and was told — the reason of their task; and the bluff, hearty old seaman at once insisted in getting off his horse and felling one of the trees himself. ‘I must be in that, too,’ he said, with a genuine emotion; and spent half an hour swinging an axe.”

  Other and stranger visitors would turn up from the various islands which the family had visited. As Stevenson wrote to Mr. Barrie: “Another thing you must be prepared for — and that is the arrival of strange old shell-back guests out of every quarter of the island world, their mouths full of oaths for which they will punctiliously apologise; their clothes unmistakably purchased in a trade-room, each probably followed by a dusky bride. These you are to expect to see hailed with acclamation and dragged in as though they were dukes and duchesses. For though we may be out of touch with ‘God knows what,’ we are determined to keep in touch with appearances and the Marquesas.”

  The bust of old Robert Stevenson, looking down upon the hall, must have been reminded again and again of the breakfasts in Baxter’s Place, and his “broad- spoken, home-spun officers.”1

  The departure of one of these old traders was most characteristic, and would hardly, I think, occur in just the same way outside the South Seas. He had come from his island; he had made his way to Vailima and renewed his friendship; he had enjoyed himself and received such kindness and consideration as perhaps he did not often get. When he rose to take his leave, “Now don’t you move,” he said, “don’t one of you move. Just let me take a last look of you all sitting there on that verandah, and I shall have that always to think of, when 1 ‘m away.”

  It was Stevenson’s intimate knowledge of this class which made him particularly anxious to heal as far as possible the unnecessary division between them and the missionaries. On this point he particularly insisted in an address delivered in Sydney in 1893.2 That paper does not relate exclusively to Samoa; on the contrary, there is much of it which was applicable only elsewhere; but it is the general conclusion of Stevenson’s experiences of British Protestant missions in the Pacific, and one of the wisest and most valuable utterances upon the whole subject.3

  His personal relations with the Protestant missionaries in Samoa were most pleasant. He was a loyal and 1 Vide vol. i. p. 10. 2 Appendix B.

  3 Compare especially Letters, ii. 340. generous friend to every man and woman among them, told them quite plainly whenever he disagreed with them or disapproved of their line of conduct, and was a most stimulating and liberal influence on their work. It is almost invidious to single out names, but the Rev. W. E. Clarke and his wife were his closest and most thorough-going friends among the residents. Outside Samoa, the Rev. George Brown, the Rev. F. E. Lawes of Savage Island, and the Rev. F. Damon of Honolulu held high places in his affection and regard; but for Mr. Chalmers,1 “Tamate” of New Guinea, he felt a kind of hero-worship, a greater admiration probably than he felt for any man of modern times except Charles Gordon.

  His appreciation of the Mission he showed not only by giving his influence and his money, but also by offering his services to take a Bible-class of young half- caste lads on Sunday afternoons. Nothing was more irksome to him than a periodical engagement. The boys, it is gathered, were quite impenetrable, and the process was that of cutting blocks with a razor; but for several months Stevenson held firmly to his undertaking, and in the end it was dropped only from some urgent external cause, and never resumed.

  With the Catholics Stevenson was on equally pleasant but quite different terms. His interest in Molokai, even apart from Father Damien, always made his heart warm towards the priests and Catholic sisters; the accidental circumstance that all his best boys at Vailima 1 The Rev. Dr. James Chalmers was killed at the Aird River in New Guinea, in April, 1901, as he was endeavouring to make peace between the natives who were engaged in a tribal war. belonged to the Church of Rome strengthened the connection. For the Bishop he had a real appreciation: “a superior man, much above the average of priests”; “Monseigneur is not unimposing; with his white beard and his violet girdle he looks splendidly episcopal, and when our three waiting lads came one after another and kneeled before him in the big hall, and kissed his ring, it did me good for a piece of pageantry.”

  Of the spiritual merits of their work he was of course in no position to judge; but he always had a special admiration for the way in which they identified themselves with the natives and encouraged all native habits and traditions at all compatible with Christianity. Above all things he welcomed the fact that the influence of the chiefs was increased instead of weakened by their efforts. He agreed with them that it was better to concentrate their forces on people of rank than to impose such a democracy as that of some of the Protestant societies, for he felt that the salvation of Samoa lay in the chiefs, and that it was unfortunate that all white influence except that of the Catholics was in the line of diminishing their authority.

  Thus the priests and the sisters from the Savalalo convent were always welcome guests, and not the less from the fact that French was the usual medium of intercourse.

  Besides open house at Vailima, there also were many special entertainments, both those given in the house, and those shared with others or given by them in return in Apia. In addition to ordinary lunches or dinners, it was Stevenson’s greatest delight to organise any festivity in which the natives could have a share, the entertainment of a man-of-war’s band, a feast on the completion of a Samoan house, or, above all, the great banquet given in native fashion to celebrate his own birthday. In Apia public balls were not infrequent; Stevenson became a willing pupil in the hands of his stepdaughter, and thenceforward took his part in the dances with delight.

  But the balls in themselves deserve a passing word, for nowhere, since the world began, can the juxtaposition of incongruous elements have reached so high a point. Almost every one in Apia, without regard for social station, was invited, and all were welcome. Diplomatists and naval officers, traders and bar-keepers, clerks and mechanics, all came; and the residents brought their wives and daughters, white, half-caste, or whole Polynesian. On one point only was etiquette inexorable — no Samoan man could hope for admission unless some elderly and august chief were introduced as a spectator. But invitations were issued to such native girls as could dance and were otherwise suitable, and the “ maid of a village” might frequently there be seen, dancing away in a native dress even more elaborate and scanty than those of her white sisters. And not only was social exclusiveness waived, but hostilities, public and private, were suspended at these remarkable entertainments. One night Stevenson found himself vts-d-vts with Chief-Justice Cedercrantz in a square dance, at a time when either was eagerly compassing the removal of the other from the island. “We dance here in Apia,” he wrote, “a most fearful and wonderful quadrille; I don’t know where the devil they fished it from, but it is rackety and prancing and embraceatory beyond words; perhaps it is best defined in Haggard’s expression of a gambado.”1 And of his rival: “We exchanged a glance and then a grin; the man took me in his confidence; and through the remainder of that prance, we pranced for each other.”

  Another time, during the fiercest moments of Anglo- German animosity, Mr. Osbourne, by the adroit use of a bow and arrow, secured the hand of the German Consul’s wife for a cotillon; and at a Fourth of July dance given by the American Vice-Consul, all that gentleman’s enemies might have been seen joining hands and dancing round him, while they sang, “ For he’s a jolly good fellow.” One ineffable family indeed carried out the rules of the game with so much rigour as to accept partners with whom they were not on speaking terms, and then to dance and speak not a word. But for the most part people entered readily into the spirit of the thing, and ill-will was left outside, while not only the lion and the lamb but the rival beasts of prey all frolicked happily together.

  There is one difficulty to which I have not yet alluded — the question of language. Stevenson had, as he wrote, on entering the Pacific, “journeyed out of that comfortable zone of kindred languages, where the curse of Babel is so easy to be remedied,” but the obstacle proved much less than he had anticipated. It is true that in Samoa few of the natives speak or really understand anything but their own tongue, but except for the fact that this has no analogies with any European speech, it is not very difficult to acquire for practical purposes. To it he soon addressed himself, and over 1 Vailima Letters, 13th September, 1892. the study of Samoan he spent a good deal of pains, even taking regular lessons from the Rev. S.J. Whitmee of the London Mission, the best Samoan scholar in the islands. His story of The Bottle Imp was translated by another member of the Mission for their magazine almost as soon as it was written, and has the unique distinction of having been published in Samoan before it appeared in English. Stevenson himself began as an exercise with his teacher to write in Samoan a story of Saxon times called Eatuina (Edwin), but only a few chapters were completed.

  In Samoan there is a special vocabulary for addressing or mentioning high chiefs, which is naturally used on all solemn occasions and in all important correspondence. Stevenson mastered this sufficiently to understand it when it was spoken well, and not only to be able to write it with facility, but even to satisfy his own fastidious requirements in composing letters. The everyday speech he used for all household purposes, and could understand it himself without difficulty. But when there came a voluble rustic from a remote district, some small chief perhaps, who sat and “barked,” as his unfortunate hearer said, in either dialect about matters beyond Tusitala’s ken, the result was confusion. In matters of importance, where it was of the highest urgency that Stevenson should not be misunderstood, a good and really trustworthy interpreter was hardly to be procured outside the Mission, and from anything approaching politics the missionaries for the most part wisely held aloof. But this difficulty was gradually solved by Mr. Osbourne, who learned both usages very thoroughly, and spoke them in the end with fluency and ease. There are few matters in which English readers have taken less interest than the political history of Samoa, even when it was written by Stevenson himself. Nevertheless, if I were to omit all reference to these affairs and the criticisms which Stevenson passed upon them, it would be supposed that I was letting judgment go against him by default. I propose therefore to give the briefest possible description of the government as it was from 1889 to 1894, relegating to the Appendix 1 a brief summary of the details, and the evidence for my assertions. Those who wish to find the matter treated most brilliantly, but at greater length, will find it in A Foot-note to History and Stevenson’s letters to the Times.

  Throughout his residence in Samoa, the government of the islands was controlled by a Treaty entered into at Berlin in 1889between America, England, and Germany. Under this the native king was recognised by these three Great Powers, by whom two new white officials were also appointed — a Chief-Justice, receiving £1200 a year out of the Samoan treasury, and a President of the Municipal Council, who was to be paid ^1000 a year by the Municipality and also act as adviser to the king. The Neutral Territory of the Municipality of Apia, in which most of the white population resided, was managed by a Council of six residents elected by the ratepayers, with the President as Chairman. A Land Commission of three representatives, one appointed by each of the three Powers, was to investigate all equitable claims of foreigners to the ownership of land in Samoa, and after the registration of such titles as were 1 Appendix D, vol. ii. p. 237. valid, none but a native might acquire the freehold of any part of Samoan territory.

  The American and German Consuls-General and the British Consul retained their jurisdiction, and preserved much of the prestige they had enjoyed in the days before the Berlin Treaty, when the Consular Board had been the chief controlling power in Samoa. The British Consul also, as a Deputy Commissioner for the Western Pacific, had very despotic powers over all British subjects under the Orders in Council issued under the Pacific Islanders’ Protection Act of 1875.

  The principal white officials in Samoa were thus: —

  The Chief-Justice.

  The President of the Municipal Council.

  The Three Consuls.

  The Three Land Commissioners.

  It is impossible to say whether the system thus founded could ever have worked satisfactorily among so many contending interests and at so great a distance from the paramount Governments, seated as these were at Berlin, London, and Washington, even if two competent Treaty officials possessed of experience and common sense had been promptly sent out to the scene of their duties. But there was undue delay, the wrong men were chosen, and the system was doomed.

  The Chief-Justiceship was, failing the unanimous choice of the three Powers, given by the King of Sweden to a Swedish Assistant-Judge, Mr. Conrad Ceder- crantz, while Baron Senfft von Pilsach, a German Regierungs-Assessor, was appointed by the Powers to be President of the Municipal Council. For more than two years the pair drew their salaries and discharged what they conceived to be their duties in a fashion which is perfectly incredible until it is studied by the “cold light of consular reports.” Stevenson was finally kindled to indignation by the outrage of the dynamite — a proposal to blow up some Samoan chiefs imprisoned for a political offence of no great gravity, if any attempt were made by their people to rescue them from jail. He wrote to the Times a series of letters which at first were generally disbelieved, but were afterwards confirmed in every important detail that was made known. It was a real bitterness to him to see fading away before his eyes perhaps the last opportunity for the restoration of order and prosperity to Samoa, as the natives watched the gambadoes of this extraordinary couple and the second-rate diplomacy or tardy and futile action of the three Great Powers.

  The fight was keen, for the two Treaty officials did their best, as Stevenson believed, to have him deported; but the end was certain, whether it was due to the diplomatists or the Times, and the pair departed for other scenes of activity. But the evil had been done, and such opportunity as their successors had was frustrated by the arbitrary and vacillating interference of the consuls. On this subject Stevenson wrote three more letters dealing with the outrages which went on under the very noses of the consuls and the guns of the warships, with the weakness and the favouritism of the Government and the farce of disarming. But everything showed that the failure of the Berlin Treaty was complete, and that the only chance for Samoa was to abolish the triple control.

  Stevenson took the chair at one public meeting in Apia, and apart from this his local interference in politics was limited to a few formal visits to native chiefs.1 Once, however, by an accident it nearly took the most startling form of intervention possible. The king was all but shot dead in the large hall at Vailima by Mrs. Stevenson in her husband’s presence. Suddenly one day in 1894 Malietoa came up without warning to pay a secret visit of reconciliation to Tusitala, attended only by a black-boy interpreter. In the course of the visit he happened to mention his wish for a revolver; Stevenson immediately went to the big safe in the corner of the room and produced one which he emptied of the cartridges and handed to his wife. Mrs. Stevenson found that there was something wrong with the trigger and tried it several times. Four times it clicked, the king leaned over in front to examine it, and then some unaccountable impulse made her inspect the pistol again. In the next chamber lay a cartridge which would inevitably have sent its charge into the king’s brain. The smile and wave of the hand with which Malietoa greeted and dismissed the discovery were worthy of a stronger monarch and of a far greater kingdom. Had the bullet gone to its mark, it is idle to speculate on what would have happened, but it is clear at any rate that Stevenson could no longer have found a home in Samoa.

  On most occasions he confined himself to giving his advice when it was asked, or when he saw any reasonable chance of its being accepted. I need hardly say that he never contributed one farthing or one farthing’s 1 Appendix D, vol. ii. p. 242. worth towards any arming or provisioning of the natives, nor did he ever take any step or give any counsel or hint whatsoever that could possibly have increased the danger of war or diminished the hopes of a peaceful settlement.

  If he had been asked what concern he had in the affairs of Samoa, or why he did not leave them in the hands of the consuls whose business they were, he would probably have answered that it was his business to vindicate the truth and to check misgovernment and oppression wherever he found them; that he had good reason to distrust the consuls; that Samoa was a remote spot where public opinion was helpless; and that the trustworthy means of publishing the real state of its affairs to the civilised world were few. And in support of this he would have instanced the case of the dynamite, the very name of which has been suppressed in all the blue-books and white-books of the three Powers; and the fact that the only newspaper in the island had been secretly purchased with the public money, printing-press, type and all, for the benefit of his opponents. Finally, that which he would never have pleaded for his own advantage may be urged for him in a disinterested sense: he had adopted Samoa as his country, and her enemies were his enemies, and he made her cause his own. It is difficult for people reading their newspapers at home to realise the entire difference of circumstances and conduct, and I freely confess that until I arrived in Samoa and saw the conditions for myself, I favoured the easier course of laisse^ faire.