CHAPTER VI.
THE LEGISLATURE AND EXECUTIVE.
IT has come to be understood that the appropriate mode of governing a Colony is to have a King, Lords and Commons as we do at home. And if a Colony be a Colony in the fashion described by me when endeavouring to define the nature of a Colony proper, there cannot be a doubt that this is the best mode. Where Englishmen,—or white men whether they be of English or other descent,—have gone to labour and have thus raised a community in a distant land under the British flag, the old constitutional mode of arranging things seems always to act well, though it may sometimes be rough at first, and sometimes at starting may be subject to difficulties. It has been set on foot by us, or by our Colonists, with a population perhaps not sufficient to give two members to an English borough,—and has then started with a full-fledged appanage of Governor, aide-de-camps, private secretaries, Legislative Council, Legislative Assembly, Prime Minister and Cabinet,—with a surrounding which one would have thought must have swamped so small a boat;—but the boat has become almost at once a ship and has ridden safely upon the waves. The little State has borrowed money like a proud Empire and has at once had its stocks quoted in the share lists. There have been causes for doubt, but I do not remember an instance of failure. This has been so universally the result that the British Government at home have become averse to Crown Colonies, and has of late invited her children to go out alone into the world, to enjoy their own earnings, and pay their own bills, and do as may seem good to them each in his own sight. I find that there are many in the Cape Colony who say that she undertook to govern herself in the proper parliamentary way not because she especially desired the independence to be thus obtained, but because the Colonial Office at home was anxious on the subject and put pressure on the Colony.
At any rate in 1872 the Cape began to rule itself. The process of ruling themselves rarely begins with Colonies all at once. The acme of independence is reached when a Colony levies and spends its own taxes and when the country is ruled by Ministers who are appointed because they have a parliamentary majority at their back and who go out of office when they are no longer so supported. There are various preliminary steps before this state of perfection be reached and in no Colony, I think, have these various steps been more elaborated than at the Cape. In 1825 the Governor ruled almost as a despot. He was of course subject to the Secretary of State at home,—by whom he might be dismissed or, if competent, would be promoted; but he was expected to be autocratic and imperious. I may say that he rarely fell short of the expectation. Lord Charles Somerset, who was the last of those Governors at the Cape, did and said things which are charming in the simplicity of their tyranny. In 1825 an Executive Council was appointed. These were, of course, nominees of the Government; but they divided the responsibility with the Governor, and were a check upon the exercise of his individual powers. The next step, in 1834, was to a Legislative Council. These were to be the lawmakers, but all of them were elected by the Governor. Six of the Council were the Governor’s executive ministers, and the other six,—for the Council consisted of twelve,—were unofficial nominees.
But the existence of such a Council—a little Parliament elected by the Crown—created a desire for a popular Parliament and the people of the Colony petitioned for a representative House of Assembly. Then there was much hesitation, one Secretary of State after another and one Governor after another, struggling to produce a measure which should be both popular and satisfactory. For the element of colour,—the question as to white men and black men, which has been inoperative in Canada, in the Australias, and even in New Zealand,—was as early as in those days felt to create a peculiar difficulty in South Africa. But at length the question was decided in favour of the black man and a low franchise. Sir Harry Smith the then Governor expressed an opinion that “by showing to all classes that no man’s station was in this free country,”—meaning South Africa,—“determined by the accident of his colour, all ranks of men might be stimulated to improve and maintain their relative position.” The principle enunciated is broad and seems, at the first hearing of it, to be excellent; but it would appear on examination to be almost as correct to declare to candidates for the household cavalry that the accident of height should have nothing to do with their chances. It may be open to argument whether the Queen would not be as well defended by men five feet high as by those who are six,—but the six-feet men are wanted. There may be those who think that a Kafir Parliament would be a blessing;—but the white men in the Colony are determined not to be ruled by black men.[7] It was intended, no doubt, simply to admit a few superior Kafirs to the franchise,—a select body whose appearance at the hustings would do good to the philanthropic heart; but it has led to the question whether there may not be more Kafirs than European voters. When it leads to the question whether there shall be Kafir members of Parliament, then there will be a revolution in the Colony. One or two the House might stand, as the House in New Zealand endures four or five Maoris who sit there to comfort the philanthropic heart; but should the number increase materially then there would be revolution in the Cape Colony. In New Zealand the number is prescribed and, as the Maoris are coming to an end, will never be increased. In the Cape Colony every electoral district might return a Kafir; but I think those who know the Colony will agree with me when I say that the European would not consent to be so represented.
After much discussion, both at the Cape and in England, two Houses of Parliament both elective were established and met together for the first time in July 1854. The franchise was then established on the basis which still prevails. To vote either for a member of the Legislative Council, or of the House of Assembly, a man must occupy land or a building alleged to be worth £25; or he must earn £50 per annum; or he must earn £25 per annum,—about 10s. a week,—and his diet. The English reader must understand that wages are very much higher in the Colony than in England, and that the labouring Kafir who works for wages frequently earns as much as the required sum. And the pastoral Kafir who pays rent for his land, does very often occupy a tract worth more than £25. There are already districts in which the Kafirs who might be registered as voters exceed in number the European voters. And the number of such Kafirs is increasing from day to day.
But even yet parliamentary government had not been attained in the Cape. Under the Constitution, as established in 1854, the power of voting supplies had been given, but the manner in which the supplies should be used was still within the Governor’s bosom. His ministers were selected by him as he pleased, and could not be turned out by any parliamentary vote. That is the system which is now in existence in the United States,—where the President may maintain his ministers in opposition to the united will of the nation. At the Cape, after 1854, the Governor’s ministers could sit and speak either in one House or in the other,—but were not members of Parliament and could not vote. Nor, which was more important, could they be turned out!
The next and last step was not taken till 1872, and was perhaps somewhat pressed on the Colony by the Home Government, who wished to assimilate the form of parliamentary constitution in all the Colonies which were capable of enjoying it. The measure however was carried at the Cape by majorities in both Houses,—by a majority of 34 to 27 votes in the House of Assembly,—which on such a subject was a slender majority as showing the wish of the Colony, and by 11 votes against 10 in the Legislative Council. I think I am right in saying that two out of these eleven were given by gentlemen who thought it right to support the Government though in opposition to their own opinions. There were many who considered that in such a condition of things the measure should have been referred back to the people by a general dissolution. But so did not think the late Governor, Sir Henry Barkly, or the Secretary of State at home. The question was settled in favour of our old well-beloved form of constitutional government; and the Cape Colony became like to the Canadas and the Australias. The Governor has really little or nothing to say to the actual government of the country,—as the Sovereign has not with us. The Ministers are responsible, and must be placed in power or turned out of power as majorities may direct. And the majorities will of course be created by the will of the people, or, as it would be more fair to say, by the will of the voters.
But there are two points in which, with all these Colonies, the resemblance to England ceases. I have said that there were in the Cape Colony, Kings, Lords and Commons. With us, at home, the Lords are hereditary. An hereditary Upper House in a Colony would be impossible, and if possible would be absurd. There are two modes of selecting such a body,—one that of election by the people as is the case in Victoria, and the other that of nomination by the Crown, as is the practice in New South Wales. At the Cape the more democratic method has been adopted. It may be a question whether in regard to the special population of the Country, the other plan would not have been preferable. The second difference is common to all our Colonies, and has reference to the power which is always named first and which, for simplicity, I have described as the King. With us the Crown has a veto on all parliamentary enactments, but is never called upon to exercise it. The Crown with us acts by its Ministers who either throw out a measure they disapprove by the use of the majority at their back, or go out themselves. But in the Colonies the veto of the third party to legislation is not unfrequently exercised by the Secretary of State at home, and here there is a safeguard against intemperate legislation.
Such is the form of government at the Cape of Good Hope. Of all forms known to us it is perhaps the most liberal, as the franchise is low enough to enable the ordinary labourer to vote for members of both Houses. For in truth every working man in the Colony may without difficulty earn 10s. a week and his diet; and no small holder of land will occupy a plot worth less than £25. Had the matter in question been the best form for the maintenance of liberty and assurance of liberty among white people, I, at least, should have nothing to say against it; but, seeing that the real people of the country is and will remain a coloured population, I cannot but think that there is room for doubt. I will not,—as I said before, venture to enquire into the far distant future of the black races of South Africa. There are many who think that the black man should not only be free but should be, and by his nature is, the equal of the white man. As I am glad to see all political inequalities gradually lessened among men of European descent, so should I be glad to think that the same process should take place among all men. But not only has not that time come yet, but I cannot think that it has so nearly come as to justify us in legislating upon the supposition that it is approaching. I find that the very men who are the friends of the negro hold the theory but never entertain the practice of equality with the negro. The stanchest disciple of Wilberforce and Buxton does not take the negro into partnership, or even make him a private secretary. The conviction that the white man must remain in the ascendant is as clear in his mind as in that of his opponent; and though he will give the black man a vote in hope of this happy future, he is aware that when black men find their way into any Parliament or Congress that Parliament or Congress is to a degree injured in public estimation. A power of voting in the hands of negroes has brought the time-honoured constitution of Jamaica to an end. The same power in the Southern States of the American Union is creating a political confusion of which none of us can foretell the end, but as to which we are all convinced that in one way or another a minority of white men will get the better of a majority of coloured men. In British South Africa the majority of coloured men is so great that the country has to be compared to India or Ceylon rather than to the Southern American States. When once the Kafir shall have learned what voting means there will be no withstanding him, should the system of voting which now prevails in the Cape Colony be extended over a South African Confederation. The Kafir is not a bad fellow. Of the black African races the South Eastern people whom we call Kafirs and Zulus are probably the best. They are not constitutionally cruel, they learn to work readily, and they save property. But they are as yet altogether deficient in that intelligence which is needed for the recognition of any political good. There can be no doubt that the condition of the race has been infinitely improved by the coming of the white man; but, were it to be put to the vote to-morrow among the Kafirs whether the white man should be driven into the sea, or retained in the country, the entire race would certainly vote for the white man’s extermination. This may be natural; but it is not a decision which the white man desires or by which he intends to abide.
I will quote here a few words from an official but printed report, sent by Mr. Bowker, the late Commandant of the Frontier Mounted Police, to the Chairman of the Frontier Defence Committee in 1876, merely adding, that perhaps no one in the Cape Colony better understands the feeling between the Kafirs and their white neighbours than the gentleman whose words I use. “It must not be forgotten that while collectively the Border farmers look upon the natives as their bitterest foes, individually they have greater confidence in their Kafir servants than in any European immigrant whose services can be obtained in the Colony. It is much the same with the native servants. As a nation they hate the white man, and look forward to the day when he will be expelled the country; while individually they are as much or more attached to their masters than would be the case with European servants.” This represents exactly the condition of feeling in South Africa:—and, if so, it certainly is not to such feeling that we can safely entrust an equality of franchise with ourselves, seeing that they outnumber us almost by five to one. It is said that they cannot combine. If they could the question would be settled against us,—without any voting. But nothing will teach men to combine so readily as a privilege of voting. The franchise is intended to teach men to combine for a certain object, and when freely given has always succeeded in its intention.
As far as it has yet gone Parliamentary Government has worked well in the Cape Colony. There had been so long a period of training that a sufficient number of gentlemen were able to undertake the matter at once. I attended one hot debate and heard the leaders of the Opposition attack the Prime Minister and his colleague in the proper parliamentary manner. The question was one of defence against the border Kafirs;—and the Premier who had brought in a measure which the Opposition, as it appeared, was desirous of slaughtering peacemeal, was suspected of an intention to let the measure drop. And yet he was asking for an increased vote for defence, which,—so said the opposition,—ought not to be granted till he had declared his entire purpose in that respect. The object of the opposition of course was to say all the severe words which parliamentary manners allowed, and it succeeded as well as do our practised swordsmen at home. It was made to appear that the Prime Minister was a very wicked man indeed, whose only object it was to rob the Colony of its money. Of Mr. Paterson, who was the keenest of the swordsmen, I must say that he was very eloquent. Of Mr. Southey and Mr. Sprigg that they were very efficacious. It was of course the object of the Ministers to get the vote passed with as little trouble as possible, knowing that they had a majority at their back. Mr. Molteno the Premier declared that he really did not know what gentlemen on the other side wanted. If they could throw out the vote let them do it,—but what was the use of their reiterating words if they had no such power. That seemed to be the gist of the Premier’s arguments,—and it is the natural argument for a Prime Minister who has never yet been turned out. Of course he got his vote,—as to which I presume that no one had the least doubt.
Mr. Molteno, who has been in parliamentary life for many years, having held a seat since the creation of the first House of Assembly in 1854, has been a very useful public servant and thoroughly understands the nature of the work required of him; but I fancy that in a parliamentary constitutional government things cannot go quite straight till there has been at least one change,—till a Minister has been made to feel that any deviation from responsibility may bring upon him at a moment’s notice a hostile majority. We at home talk about a strong Government; but a very strong Government is likely to be a fainéant Government, and is rarely a faithful Government. A Minister should have before him a lively dread. Mr. Molteno seemed to be too confident,—and to be almost fretful because gentlemen made him sit there in the House when he would have preferred being in his office or at home. I am far from saying that the Cape can have a better Minister;—but if he could go out for a short while and then come back it would probably be for his comfort.
I cannot finish these remarks without saying that the most sensible speech I heard in the House was from Mr. Saul Solomon. Mr. Solomon has never been in the Government and rarely in opposition, but he has been perhaps of as much use to the Colony as any living man. He is one who certainly should be mentioned as a very remarkable personage, having risen to high honours in an occupation perhaps of all the most esteemed among men, but for which he must have seemed by nature to be peculiarly ill adapted. He is a man of very small stature,—so small that on first seeing him the stranger is certainly impressed with the idea that no man so small has ever been seen by him before. His forehead however is fine, and his face full of intelligence. With all this against him Mr. Solomon has gone into public life, and as a member of Parliament in the Cape Colony has gained a respect above that of Ministers in office. It is not too much to say that he is regarded on both sides as a safe adviser; and I believe that it would be hardly possible to pass any measure of importance through the Cape Legislature to which he offered a strenuous opposition. He reminded me of two other men whom it has been my privilege to know and who have been determined to seize and wear parliamentary honours in the teeth of misfortunes which would have closed at any rate that profession against men endowed with less than Herculean determination. I mean Mr. Fawcett who in our own House at home has completely vanquished the terrible misfortune of blindness, and my old friend John Robertson of Sydney,—Sir John I believe he is now,—who for many years presided over the Ministry in New South Wales, leading the debates in a parliamentary chamber, without a palate to his mouth. I regard these three men as great examples of what may be done by perseverance to overcome the evils which nature or misfortune have afflicted.
The people of Capetown think of the two chambers in which the two Houses sit with something of shame, declaring that they are not at all what they ought to be,—that they are used as makeshifts, and that there has never yet been time, or perhaps money at hand, for constructing proper Houses of Parliament. Had I not heard this I should have thought that each of them was sufficiently commodious and useful, if not quite sufficiently handsome or magnificent.