acknowledge that it is owing to the help I received
chiefly from British, and also from Portuguese and
German officials, traders, and travellers that I managed
to complete my trip.
There now remain but a few words for me to add, and
although it grieves me to say them, I feel bound to do so
in order to vindicate my character. When I returned to
Europe after my long journey I was treated with marked
coldness by my countrymen: the official world had no
abuse strong enough for me. I had committed the great
crime of openly expressing my admiration for the British
Administration in South Africa, Rhodesia, Nyasaland, and
Uganda, and when I tried to prove that I had merely
been fair and impartial in my reports, I was told by a
high official that I had no right to be fair and impartial
with regard to Anglo-African questions. I need not
comment upon this startling theory, neither can I help
comparing the reception given to me in France—my
own country—with the one I received in England. The
kindness that was shown me in this country went deep to
my heart, and increased tenfold the true love I had always
felt for the British nation, whose dominions have been to
me a kind of second fatherland; the only nation where
individual liberty, broad-minded ideas, and true civilization
really exist; a nation that throws its doors wide open to
all, irrespective of nationality or creed—in a word, the
greatest nation in the world. And I hope to see the
day when the union of England and France will be
an accomplished fact. Allied together we would defy
the world, and become for ever the arbiters of all nations.
C H A P T E R I.
• THE START
the 24th of April, 1891, I sailed from Dartmouth
on board the Grantully Castle, and arrived at Cape
Town in the middle of May. My first impression was most
disappointing. I expected to find a place resembling
Bombay or Calcutta; like them, with plenty of natives
in picturesque costumes, etc., etc. On landing I got into
a hansom cab, and on my way to the hotel the only
native gentlemen I came across who could boast of the
smallest tinge of the picturesque were, those who composed
a detachment of the Salvation Army in full dress.
I presented my letters of introduction, among them one
to the Governor, Sir Henry Loch, who received me with
the greatest possible kindness and courtesy in every way.
He introduced me to Mr. Cecil Rhodes, then Prime
Minister, who gave me most valuable introductions to
the officials of the Chartered Company. After a few
days I came to the conclusion that natives did not exist
at Cape Town. Black gentlemen, it is true, were to be
met with in the grog shops, the headquarters of the
Salvation Army, and the gaols; but from an anthropological
point of view they were but of slight interest,
and served only to show the result of the devolution
of a fine savage into a degraded, European-dressing,
hard-drinking, work-hating, Dutch-speaking, black-looking
villain: for such is the free-born, dark-skinned citizen
oa er of the Cape Colony, the proud and respected
owner of a vote.