The West Indies and the Spanish Main

by Anthony Trollope

Our great Thunderer the other day spoke of the governance of a sugar island as a duty below a man's notice; as being almost worthy of contempt. We cannot all be gods and forge thunderbolts. But we all wish to consume sugar; and if we can do in one of our colonies without slaves what Cuba is doing with slaves, the work I think will not be contemptible, nor the land contemptible in which it is done. I do look to see our free Cuba in Guiana, and even have my hopes as to that million of hogsheads.

I have said, in speaking of Jamaica, that I thought the negro had hardly yet shown himself capable of understanding the teaching of the Christian religion. As regards Guiana, what I heard on this matter I heard chiefly from clergymen of the Church of England; and though they would of course not agree with me—for it is not natural that a man should doubt the efficacy of his own teaching—nevertheless, what I gathered from them strengthens my former opinions.

I do think that the Guiana negro is in this respect somewhat superior to his brother in Jamaica. He is more intelligent, and comes nearer to our idea of a thoughtful being. But still even here it seems to me that he never connects his religion with his life; never reflects that his religion should bear upon his conduct.

Here, as in the islands, the negroes much prefer to belong to a Baptist congregation, or to a so-called Wesleyan body. That excitement is there allowed to them which is denied in our Church. They sing and halloa and scream, and have revivals. They talk of their "dear brothers" and "dear sisters," and in their ecstatic howlings get some fun for their money. I doubt also whether those disagreeable questions as to conduct are put by the Baptists which they usually have to undergo from our clergymen. "So-called Wesleyans," I say, because the practice of their worship here is widely removed from the sober gravity of the Wesleyan churches in England.

I have said that the form of government in Guiana was a mild despotism, tempered by sugar. The Governor, it must be understood, has not absolute authority. There is a combined house, with a power of voting, by whom he is controlled—at any rate in financial matters. But of those votes he commands many as Governor, and as long as he will supply Coolies quick enough—and Coolies mean sugar—he may command them all.

"We are not particular to a shade," the planters wisely say to him, "in what way we are governed. If you have any fads of your own about this or about that, by all means indulge them. Even if you want a little more money, in God's name take it. But the business of a man's life is sugar: there's the land; the capital shall be forthcoming, whether begged, borrowed, or stolen;—do you supply the labour. Give us Coolies enough, and we will stick at nothing. We are an ambitious colony. There looms before us a great future—a million hogsheads of sugar!"

The form of government here is somewhat singular. There are two Houses—Lords and Commons—but not acting separately as ours do. The upper House is the Court of Policy. This consists of five official members, whose votes may therefore be presumed to be at the service of the Governor, and of five elected members. The Governor himself, sitting in this court, has the casting vote. But he also has something to say to the election of the other five. They are chosen by a body of men called Kiezers—probably Dutch for choosers. There is a college of Kiezers, elected for life by the tax-payers, whose main privilege appears to be that of electing these members of the Court of Policy. But on every occasion they send up two names, and the Governor selects one; so that he can always keep out any one man who may be peculiarly disagreeable to him. This Court of Policy acts, I think, when acting by itself, more as a privy council to the Governor than as a legislative body.

Then there are six Financial Representatives; two from Berbice, one from town and one from country; two from Demerara, one from town and one from country; and two from Essequibo, both from the country, there being no town. These are elected by the tax-payers. They are assembled for purposes of taxation only, as far as I understood; and even as regards this they are joined with the Court of Policy, and thus form what is called the Combined Court. The Crown, therefore, has very little to tie its hands; and I think that I am justified in describing the government as a mild despotism, tempered by sugar.

So much for British Guiana. I cannot end this crude epitome of crude views respecting the colony without saying that I never met a pleasanter set of people than I found there, or ever passed my hours much more joyously.