Goa and the Blue Mountains; or, Six months of sick leave

by Sir Richard Francis Burton

But we are not willing to stop here, we argue that such salubrious and fertile tracts of country would form excellent permanent settlements for half-pay officers, pensioners, worn-out soldiers, and others, who prefer spending the remainder of their days in the land of their adoption. Here, then, we have the proposed beginning of a colony.

To the probability of extensive success, or public utility in such a scheme, there are two important objections.

In the first place, supposing the offspring of the colonists to be of pure European blood, we must expect them to degenerate after the second generation. All who have sojourned long in the southern parts of Europe, such as Italy or Spain, must have remarked the deleterious effects of a hot and dry climate upon a race that thrives only in a cold and damp one. An English child brought up in Italy is, generally speaking, more sickly, more liable to nervous and hepatic complaints, and, consequently, more weakened in mind as well as body, than even the natives of the country. If this remark hold true in the South of Europe, it is not likely to prove false in tropical latitudes.

But, secondly, if acting upon Albuquerque’s fatal theory, we encourage intermarriage with the natives of the country, such colony would be worse than useless to us. We cannot but think that the Hindoos are the lowest branch of the Caucasian or Iranian family; and, moreover, that, contrary to what might be expected, any intermixture of blood with the higher classes of that same race produces a still inferior development. Some have accounted for the mental inferiority of the mixed breed by a supposed softness or malformation of the brain, others argue that the premature depravity and excess to which they are prone, enervate their bodies, and, consequently, affect their minds. Whatever may be the cause of the phenomenon its existence is, we humbly opine, undeniable. Neither British nor Portuguese India ever produced a half-caste at all deserving of being ranked in the typical order of man.

Our empire in the East has justly been described as one of opinion, that is to say, it is founded upon the good opinion entertained of us by the natives, and their bad opinion of themselves. In the old times of the Honourable East India Company, when no Englishman or Englishwoman was permitted to reside in India, without formal permission, the people respected us more than they do now. Admitting this assertion, it is not difficult to account for the reason why, of late years, a well-appointed British force has more than once found it difficult to defeat a rudely-drilled Indian army. We are the same men we were in the days of Clive and Cornwallis; the people of India are not; formerly they fought expecting to be defeated, now they enter the field flushed with hopes of success. We cannot but suspect that the lower estimate they have formed of their antagonists has more to do with their increased formidableness, than any other of the minor causes to which it is usually attributed. But if not contented with exposing individuals to their contempt, we offer them whole colonies, we may expect to incur even greater disasters. Every one knows that if the people of India could be unanimous for a day they might sweep us from their country as dust before a whirlwind. There is little danger of their combining so long as they dread us. Such fear leads to distrust; every man knows himself, and, consequently, suspects his neighbour, to be false. Like the Italians in their late war of independence the cry of tradimento (treachery) is sufficient to paralyse every arm, however critical be the hour in which it is raised. So it is in India. But their distrust of each other, as well as their respect for us, is founded entirely upon their fear of our bayonets.

In whatever way, then, we propose to populate our settlement, we place ourselves in a position of equal difficulty and danger. Such colonies would, like Goa, be born with the germs of sure and speedy decline, and well for our Indian empire in general, if the contagious effects of their decay did not extend far and wide through the land.

The conversion of the natives of India to Christianity has of late years become a species of excitement in our native country, and, consequently, many incorrect, prejudiced and garbled statements of the progress and success of the good work have gone forth to the world. Not a few old Indians returned home, have been very much surprised by hearing authentic accounts and long details of effectual missionary labour which they certainly never witnessed. Our candour may not be appreciated—it is so difficult for the enthusiastic to avoid running down an opinion contrary to their own—we cannot, however, but confess that some years spent in Western India have convinced us that the results hitherto obtained are utterly disproportionate to the means employed for converting the people. Moreover, study of the native character forces us to doubt whether anything like success upon a grand scale can ever reasonably be anticipated. We have often heard it remarked by those most conversant with the deep-rooted prejudices and the fanatic credulity of the Hindoos that with half the money and trouble we have lavished upon them they could have made double the number of converts to their heathenism in Europe.

The splendid success of the Portuguese in converting the Hindoos, was owing to two main causes, the first, their persecution,[55] which compelled many natives to assume European names, adopt the dress, manners, and customs of the West, and gradually to lapse, if we may use the expression, into Christianity. After once entering a church, the proselytes were under the strict surveillance of the Inquisition, who never allowed a “new Christian” to apostatize without making a signal example of him. In the second place, the Portuguese sent out in all directions crowds of missionaries, who, as Tavernier informs us, assumed the native dress, and taught under the disguise of Jogees and other Hindoo religious characters, a strange, and yet artful mixture of the two faiths. That these individuals sacrificed the most vital points of their religion to forward the end they proposed to themselves, we have ample proof; at the same time that they were eminently successful, is equally well known. The virulent animosity that existed between the Jesuits and Jansenists disclosed to astonished Europe the system of adaptation adopted by the former, and Benedict XIV., by a violent bull, put an end at once to their unjustifiable means, and their consequent successfulness of conversion.[56]

We by no means mean to insinuate that our holy faith is unfavourable to the development or progression of the human species. Still it cannot be concealed that, generally speaking, throughout the East the Christian is inferior, as regards strength, courage, and principle to the average of the tribes which populate that part of the world. His deficiency of personal vigour may be accounted for by the use of impure meats, and the spirituous liquors in which he indulges. The want of ceremonial ablutions, also, undoubtedly tends to deteriorate the race. It may be observed, that from Zoroaster and Moses downwards, no founder of an Eastern faith has ever omitted to represent his dietetic or ablusive directions as inspired decrees, descending from Heaven. Care applied to public health, ensures the prosperity of a people, especially amongst semi-barbarous races, where health engenders bodily vigour, strength begets courage, and bravery a rude principle of honour.