Travel Writing & Colonial Identity Construction
The Case of Barbados at the End of 19th Century
During Queen Victoria’s reign — in the second half of the 19th century — the British kingdom had established itself as the empire on which the sun never set. It evolved to become a formidable colonial power, and for Englishmen, “the world was open to them” [1]. However, this period was marked by a growing sense of anxiety towards the stability of colonial institutions. After the success of the Haitian Revolution in 1804, the British imperial administration sought to fortify power dynamics in order to calm preoccupations about uprisings — in both both the metropole and in the colonies. One way this was done was through the construction of cultural and social identities that symbolically positioned Britain and its monarchy — in relation to the colonies around the world — as the apex of power.
This can be identified particularly in travel writing, which forged representations of countries so that the imagined ties that constituted imperial relationships could be established.
This article aims to present how Barbados is an example of one of the most “successful” cases of British identity being infused into national representation. It will investigate how this was possible, and for what purpose it served to actively conceive of this small Caribbean island as “Little England”, or “Bimshire”.
To do this, the following aspects will be explored:
- How travel writing served as a particularly useful tool for this process.
- An illustration of the political context of Britain’s empire at the end of the 19th century, in order to understand the motives to create this specific symbolic relationship.
- A close reading of primary sources from this period will outline the specific way this was applied in Barbados.
“…To govern a social body, you must know it; in order to know it it is necessary to study it as a whole, and as constituent parts, to know the role each part plays in the overall picture; know its origins, its history, its population, its territory, its customs, its spirit, its strength and its riches.”
- Marbeu (1834) [2]
For readers in the metropole, travel writing was essential in creating a collective idea of the various worlds within the web of colonies that composed the global British empire.
This empire was interconnected through various flows of commodities, people, cultural products and knowledge [3]. Travel writing rose to widespread popularity particularly in the 19th century, as it facilitated a combination of positivistic “information gathering” — a major colonial classification project — with exoticized aesthetics and Romantic perspectives of exploration. During this period, this kind of writing was accepted as empirical representation. However, critical revisiting of these texts exposes the issue of ‘translatability’ between the “rational ‘seeing’ European and the ‘seen’ native” [4].
That is, the texts and images produced actually represent the expectations and desires of the author, more than the reality itself. This is particularly true for texts focused on the Caribbean islands. Considered as ‘contact zones’ [5], this region served as the crossroads between the New and Old Worlds and was a point of encounter for people from highly differing backgrounds. This region thus served as the space for negotiating national and racial identity construction on the basis of “Otherness” and “Sameness”.
The language utilised in travel writing reveals the construction of a symbolic order penned by Europeans; in their encounter with the unknown they used signifiers from their own culture in order to understand and “translate” the new landscape they found themselves in [4]. Sheller illustrates how cultural translation served 19th century social theory, as non-Western places were used as “counterfoils for Western modernity, ‘backwards’ places against which processes of modern urbanisation, industrialisation, democratisation, rationalisation, individualisation, and so on could be gauged”. The tropical geography and remoteness of Caribbean islands allowed for anachronistic ideas to be embedded in its representation. It was was often depicted as a “Garden of Eden”, a land of untouched natural beauty and thus isolated from history and seen as “outside” of civilised modernity. The Caribbean was thus constructed in the European and Northern American gaze as an object of exoticisation tailored for the consumption of curious readers [3].
For centuries the islands were sites of disputes for contesting colonial powers. They were fought over by British, Spanish, French and Dutch forces for years, and so served as a means for establishing imagined hierarchy; representing cultural and even moral superiority over each other. It was in the interest of imperial powers to thus also maintain links of “Sameness”, so that the perceived virtues of colonial islands could be attributed directly to the presiding dominance of the metropole.
The British took particular focus in emphasising the difference with the Spanish Catholic empire, who was seen as the “chief rival in the colonial enterprise”. Considering the horrors of the Spanish conquest in Latin America centuries before the arrival of English colonisers, the British believed themselves to be on higher ground, “evident” in the productivity and relative stability of their colonies. In this way, the land and people were seen in terms of utility and profit, in a way that legitimised and maintained the seemingly naturalised logic of not only European, but British superiority [2].
The West Indian colonies were seen in the minds of the British public as prized possessions: “precious jewels, which hundreds of thousands of English lives had been sacrificed to tear from France and Spain” [1]. Barbados especially held a special place amongst these treasures, as it was never fought over. Rather, it was handed over by the Spanish to the British in 1627 whilst totally unoccupied and so was seen as the most “pure” of all the colonies. As put in the words of famed Victorian era writer James Anthony Froude: “Two hundred and fifty years of occupation have imprinted strongly an English character….However it may be in the other islands, England in Barbadoes is still a solid fact”.
This study will focus mainly on Froude’s text The English in the West Indies, published in 1888. It not only provides extensive insight into the political concerns of the Empire as the turn of the century approached; his accounts of many different Caribbean islands also portray the way in which they were differentiated between each other. This text is well-suited as an example of Imperial attitudes considering that, according to Brady, Froude’s “opinions on politics and society, and on the world in general, now appear so drearily representative of the comfortable middle-class values of his day” [6]. More minor but complimentary primary sources will also be considered.
“If the West Indies are going to ruin, Barbadoes, at any rate, is being ruined with a smiling face.”
- James Anthony Froude (1888)
In order to understand the projected view, expectations and motives of such a visitor, the conditions of his origins must first be taken into consideration. In this period the British metropole was in the midst of rigorous debates surrounding the question of political autonomy of their colonies. In the 19th century, the Empire encountered various conflicts that challenged the authority and legitimacy of colonial rule. One of the first topics touched upon in Froude’s book is that of “union or separation” and “self-government”, which reveals the main political concerns of this period. He introduces his book by acknowledging that the recent celebration of the Jubilee of the Queen was celebrated with “a special and peculiar meaning”. That is, to discuss the terms on which the colonies are united under the Imperial sovereign.
He acknowledges that the problem of the complexity of such a vast Imperial network, is that each colony must be dealt with in accordance to its particular “character” [1]. Hence the question of permitting self-governance could not be discussed broadly, but rather with focus on the particular contexts. For instance, for Canada, New Zealand, Australia and the Cape it was considered a “settled question”, as they could be “trusted” with constitutional liberties and “did not require to be constrained”, but that this was not the case for Ireland and India. Froude adopts an explicit support for the maintenance of Imperial unity, stating that “local spheres of self-management can revolve round a common centre while there is centripetal power sufficient to hold them”.
To Froude, this debate was the “only public cause on which just now it was possible to feel concern”. Regarding his particular focus on the West Indies, he says that although he supports the principle of self-governance, these colonies were suffering — he goes on to justify why he needs to “attend more particularly to the West Indies”. He presents the practical debates regarding the declining economic profitability of these colonies. By extension, it was debated whether or not England should take responsibility for continuing such a “burden”, especially whilst “the whole world had become (their) market”. However, we see that one of the main distinguishing concerns regarding colonial rule in the Caribbean was connected to notions of race.
The disproportion between the white minority and black majority populations in these colonial societies was evidently a preoccupation in these political debates. It was observed that the white population “was diminishing and dissatisfied” and that since the black and white races were not inclined to “blend into one, there might be, and even inevitably would be, collisions between them which we could not tolerate”. It is clear that the dramatic and violent racial clashes that resulted from the uprising of the Haitian Revolution was a worrying possibility that loomed over the debates of balancing colonial authority.
Indeed, Froude acknowledges that the liberty granted to Haiti was followed by the massacre of the French settlers “who had done no worse than we had done to deserve the ill will of their slaves”. He draws a comparison to Jamaica, where recent constitutional adjustments regarding the parliamentary participation of “the blacks” was seen to have revived for them the hope that “the day was not far off when Jamaica would be as Hayti and they would have the island to themselves”.
With all this being considered, what then is revealed of Froude’s visit to Barbados in particular?
He poses the idea that there is a broad distinction between ‘colonies’ and ‘conquered countries’: Where on one hand, “colonists are part of ourselves”, and on the other “foreigners attached by force to our dominion” and “will not always consent to rule themselves in accordance to our views or interests”. He explains that the West Indian colonies are a mix of these categories, as it remains an “unsettled question” as to whether or not the recently freed “coloured population (could) be admitted to share in the administration”. What Barbados hence represented, was the idea of being the ‘good’ colony, with which the continued administration according to the British “views and interests” could be trusted.
In order to create this representation, Froude makes use of what Ferguson calls “anti-conquest”. That is, the “European tactic of claiming innocence while consolidating hegemonic control”. This is a kind of “false naivete” adopted by a protagonist who is typically a “European male subject whose imperial eyes ‘passively look out and possess’” [4]. Indeed, in chapter four Froude arrives to the island saying: “On no one of our foreign possessions is the print of England’s foot more strongly impressed than on Barbadoes” . With that in mind, Froude’s description of Barbadian society evidently implies an innocent de facto unity with England — not on the basis of force or political constitutions — but rather, unity according to “the same language, the same habits, the same traditions”.
“ As islanders set apart from the continent, between or among continents and surrounded by ocean or sea, we seem to be always on the threshold of identities. The virtual spaces of islands are susceptible to translatability and articulate perspectives on the shifting relationship between self and other, centre and periphery. Islands… serve as sites of mediation between cultures. Within a global culture marked by inequalities and differences, islands induce a contrapuntal approach for literary and cultural criticism.”
- Stephanos & Bassnett (2008)
In seeking to understand the grounds on which the British anchored their hierarchical relationship to Barbados, the analysis will focus on the elements of language, society and race represented in the rhetoric of imperial visitors.
Upon arriving in Barbados, one of the first observations Froude makes in the port is that of the “chattering crews of negroes.” He states that, their language was without “the smallest transatlantic intonation”, and thus classified as “pure” English. What is the relevance of pointing out such a detail?
When examining other, more minor excerpts of travel writing, it is indeed a recurring observation that seems to make the Barbadian population exceptional. Lafcadio Hearn was a travel writer who made a similar comment (1890):
“One is almost startled on hearing Barbadian negroes speaking English with a strong Old Country accent. Without seeing the speaker, you scarcely believe such English uttered by black lips; and the commonest negro labourer about the port pronounces as well as a Londoner. The purity of the Barbadian English is partly, no doubt, to the fact that, unlike most of the other islands, Barbadoes has always remained in possession of Great Britain.” [7]
Language has been recognised as an essential tool since the earliest projects of Imperial rule, as pointed out by Antonio de Nebrija to Queen Isabella de Castile in 1492 stating, “Language has always been the consort of empire, and forever shall remain its mate.” That is, the ‘language of empire’ served as a powerful way with which to constitute a categorical “Other”, by invalidating the capacity and the agency of inferior subjects’ tongues. Hence, Imperial expansion could be determined by marking the spread of the official national language of “Self” [2]. It can be seen here that Barbadians are seen in the ambiguous in-between space of being an exceptionally “English” kind of “Other”, by virtue of their “Imperial” dialect.
Such an ambiguous positioning can be identified in further observations made about society in the island. This is important to note because it reveals the constructed categories which were used to gauge “exoticness”. In the case of Barbados, Froude notes that society — referring its national constitution, parish system, churches, schools and respective authorities — were all organised “from the first on English traditional lines…on the old model; which the unprogressive inhabitants have been wise enough to leave alone”.
As Hearn wrote on his arrival into the port of Bridgetown, it would disappoint a “stranger who expects to find any exotic features of architecture or custom — disappoints more, perhaps, than any other tropical port in this respect”. He continues to explain why it fails to constitute a more exciting tropical spectacle:
“Its principal street gives you the impression of walking through an English town, - not an old-time town, but a new one, plain almost to commonplaceness...Even the palms are powerless to lend the place a really tropical look... the manners, costumes, the style of living, the system of business are thoroughly English; the population lacks visible originality; and its extraordinary activity, so oddly at variance with the quiet indolence of other West Indian peoples, seems almost unnatural.” [7]
This “sameness” is also noted upon by an anonymous writer (1899) for the Pall Mall Gazette magazine based in London. He writes about his visit to the island while recovering from an illness:
“‘White Creoles’ still speak of Englishmen as distinct from the white people who have hereditary connection with the West Indies, but white society in Barbados is really much the same as that of Scarborough or Brighton…The chat with the jolly, friendly planter… almost made one believe that a Devonshire farm lay outside the sitting-room windows; then stewed guavas and fresh-cut green cocoanuts were brought in… and the mirage of England faded.” [8]
It is strange to note that, even though the white creole class see themselves as distinct from Englishmen, it is still insisted upon that they are one and the same. Furthermore, the elements referred to in gauging the “exoticness” or “plainness” of the society seem arbitrary. The “extraordinary activity” is seen as “thoroughly” English, whilst objects such as palm trees, guavas and coconuts are signifiers of un-Englishness. Additionally, on one hand, it was considered virtuous for Barbadian society to maintain the old English institutions, whereas on the other,“the manners” and “style of living” of the population being was deemed unoriginal and disappointing.
It can be discerned from the contrasting tones of the authors that Barbados was both praised and criticised for its ambiguous position of being such an “English” Other.
Upon focusing on the Imperial visitors’ observations on race in the island, it is clear that here lies some of the most dissonant colonial perspectives.
Froude remarks on the history of English slavery in Caribbean colonies, explaining that “on the least symptom of insubordination they were killed without mercy; sometimes they were burnt alive, or hung up in iron cages to die”. Yet, despite the utter horrors of such a reality, Froude goes on to observe about the crowds in town, “Nine-tenths of them were pure black; you rarely saw a white face, but still less would you see a discontented one, imperturbable good humour and self-satisfaction being written on the features of every one”. In numerous instances in his accounts Froude insists on the contentedness and good humour of the black population: “My poor downtrodden black brothers and sisters…looked to me a very fortunate class of fellow-creatures.”
This strikingly reveals the way in which the observations of the “seeing” European can certainly misinterpret his surroundings in order to fulfill the desires and calm the worries of not only himself, but his fellow readers. The use of “false naïveté” is clearly being exercised here in order to “claim innocence while maintaining hegemonic power”. Such attitudes are adopted in order to pose Froude’s political arguments for continued Imperial unity. He claims that “the English has proved in India that they can play a great and useful part as rulers over recognised inferiors”.
Interestingly, despite the multiple ways in which “Sameness” is constructed, it is still illustrated that “At home (England) there is general knowledge that things are not going well out there. But, true to our own ways of thinking, we regard it as their affairs and not ours”. It his hence evidence that Otherness is maintained when it comes to questions of “responsibility” (power). Froude consistently frames the notion of self-governance of “coloured people” as something destined to fail. Therefore, he asserts that English rule is not merely a claim to power, but rather, a moral imperative of responsibility: “The West Indian negro is conscious of his own defects, and responds more willingly than most to a guiding hand”. The moral dissonance is especially striking when he goes so far as to claim that “slavery itself was the first step to emancipation”, freeing them from their previous “dark connection with Satan’s invisible world”.
We see that, considering the structural instability of “the silent revolution” in the Empire, Froude turns to emotive arguments to justify ongoing rule of “freed blacks” in colonies like Barbados. He praises the English in saying, “our own Anglo-Norman race has become capable of self-government only after a thousand years of civil and spiritual authority”. Herein lies the mechanisms of “innocent hegemonic control”, as he contrastingly portrays “the future of the blacks, and our own influence over them for good, depend on their being protected from themselves”.
Therefore, it can be argued that for the middle class readers (and voters) in the metropole, this emotive appeal washes clean their consciousness of the not-so distant institution of slavery. Additionally, it implicates an innate superiority to their race, in which it seems obligatory for them (as good Christians and citizens) to maintain a ‘guiding and benevolent’ authority over the population. Barbados played a particular role in being a successful example of infusing British identity.
The “Sameness” of the island constituted a relationship of affection and kinship, whereas its simultaneous, inferior “Otherness” constituted the ground for continued domination.
In summary, it has been explored how travel writing was essential for the identity construction of colonies, and their imaginary connections to the metropole. This was particularly crucial at the end of the 19th century, considering the debates regarding the independence of the colonies. Travel writing is a particularly useful tool for understanding the perspectives that reflected more about the author and audience, than about the subject of writing itself.
In the case of Barbados, we see strong notions of “Sameness” with Britain when focusing on the observations on language and society. However, the constructed inferior “Otherness” is strongly maintained regarding the black majority population. The tensions between these contradictory identity constructions can be identified as the premise to argue for continued Imperial rule and political authority in the colonies. It substantialised imaginary connections of both kinship and moral authority that served as an “innocent” way to continue the hegemonic projects of Empire. Continuing to scrutinise such colonial primary sources is essential in truly understanding the origins of present national identities and hierarchical relationships.
Further Observations…
This article was adapted from an academic essay that was assigned with a word limit, which restricted the range of primary sources consulted. It is worth including a brief look at other primary source material which indicates a pattern of similar “good colony” rhetoric being deployed in major moments of 20th century political turmoil.
“Gawd’s Cuntree” : Poem by Kathleen Catford commemorating the 1935 Jubilee of King George V
Unlike the previous travel writing texts, this text was written for residents of Barbados, as what could arguably be considered colonial propaganda. Specifically, the use of Bajan dialect throughout the entirety of the poem indicates its target audience as the common local men and women.
Aside from marking the king’s silver Jubilee, 1935 is a remarkable year because at this point the entire British Caribbean was being swept by disruptive political upheavals by the poor working class. Colonies such as British Honduras, Trinidad, St. Kitts, Jamaica, British Guyana, St. Vincent and St. Lucia had all experienced organised strikes, marches and protests throughout 1934. This was largely triggered by acute economic grievances resulting from the Great Depression but which, of course, was directly related to the steep structural disadvantages suffered by Black citizens — the predominant demographic descended from the previously enslaved class.
It can hence be reasoned that this is a politically motivated poem which served as to quell possible unrest, and reinforce the depiction of the “wholesome and innocent” connection between Barbados (Little England) and Great Britain. It opens with an emphasis on the distance between days of slavery and the present:
In standard English translation: “I’m sitting down to recollect the days that have passed and gone, and all that my great grandmother says she saw before I was born, I’m studying about the times gone by when all of us were slaves, then good Victoria made us free like the blackbirds and the waves.”
The first half narrates the relatively unremarkable acquirement of the island by the British. When it arrives to the point in history in which the enslaved were introduced, it follows the logic of: “Those Englishmen found that the sun was really hot, they cooled out in the shade of a palm tree and asked, ‘what do we do?’ In England all our skin is white, our cheeks nice and pink, but look at how we’re blistering and getting black as ink’, some person says ‘the very thing, we’ll send across the sea and get some Africans to come and work the land for us’ , and Massah, we were packed so tight you could barely pout your lip! And enough time has gone since then, till now the Jubilee…”
The total omission of the traumatic experience of enslavement endured by many generations of African descendants is so blaring that it could only be intentional. There is very little to be found (online) about the author Kathleen Catford, besides for this brief description from abebooks.com which indicates, unsurprisingly, that she came from the white upper class of Barbados. So even if this omission was not explicit political intent, it nevertheless reflects the willful ignorance of the white classes and failure to recognise and validate the reality of slavery.
This text not only exemplifies how the anti-conquest approach of the British Empire was not only applied to citizens of the metropole to justify their dominating rule, it was also forced onto the colonised population as rationalisation of their being systematically dominated. This poem attempts to portray not only an innocent rationalisation of enslavement, it goes as far as to praise the ‘benevolent’ British for freedom, and invoke subsequent gratitude and servitude in its conclusion: “I don’t mind what outlorded men tells you about the whites… I tell you, though my skin is black, my heart is red, white and blue. And if those troublesome men start to make war in the sky, we Bajans will all back the King, for our fish can even fly!”
…To what extent such propaganda was immediately effective can be debated, since two years later Barbados saw its own waves of riots and political upheaval by organised labourers. But of course, still an extension of Great Britain, many Bajans were indeed sent to fight under the Union Jack in WWII. If anything, the poem lends itself to the understanding that the indoctrination of British innocence and moral superiority was also applied to the exploited masses of Black Bajans — which one could suggest still forms part of the framework of white supremacy as it stands today.
NY Times 1971 Column by Lee Edson: “Barbados Keeps Its Distance to Resist Change”
An in-depth analysis of this text from The New York Times archives can be saved for a later time— but it must be included here in order to highlight the continuation of the use of the “good colony” rhetoric even in response to modern, post-independence political agitation. Although written for the United States media, and almost a century after Froude published his travel writings, an undeniable echoing of colonial discourse can be identified in passages such as the following:
“The island’s heliocentric isolation resulting in smug insularity, according to some critics — and its 300‐year colonial dependence on Great Britain have contributed strongly to the island’s peculiarly individual character. Barbados is more implacably English than Jamaica; indeed it has been described as the Black Britain of the Caribbean — not contemporary Britain, declining in imperialism and regard for royalty, but turn‐of‐the‐century England, where elitism, colonialism, and snobbishness were rampant. The Anglophile atmosphere is still there underneath the sun, from the statue of Lord Nelson in the main square (named Trafalgar Square of course) of Bridgetown, to the market place character of the city with its bustle and ubiquitous Barclays Bank. No wonder the oldest joke on the island, probably apocryphal, refers to the cable gram sent by the Barbados Government to the “mother country” shortly after Britain declared war on Germany. “Go to it, England,” the cable read, “Barbados is behind you.”
The article presents many problematics that reflect the mainstream media’s attitudes and perception of the Civil Rights/Black Power movement, which was making history at the time. For instance, while our first Prime Minister is described as “ a former bled, R.A.F. hero, Errol Barrow, a man who is as outspoken against black power as he is in favor of modernizing the island and bringing its sugar economy into the 20th century” — it also implies here that “black power”, as the author understood it, is incompatible with what he considers “modernisation”. The article goes on to describe what pro-Black activism was occurring in Barbados at the time as “Some Rumbles”. It assures readers that “The average tourist and the sophisticated traveler find no undercurrent of hostility to whites” — equating the Civil Rights sentiments with anti-whiteness (and further, terming tourist/sophisticated traveler as interchangeable with white).
The column dedicates a section headed “Courteous and Helpful” to describe the some “reassuring” amicable experience white visitors had with black locals. Lee Edson goes as far as to offer his own, very Yankee take on what Black empowerment looks like: “They have set aside enough wealth of their own to build some of the plush hotels that are dear to American, Canadian and British hearts and pockets, and they are smart enough to watch, calculate and husband the growth of this new tourist industry. One day they may tax it heavily, not enough to drive the white foreigners away, but enough to increase the prosperity of the island. That of course is the real crux of black power.”
I think it’s safe to say that the fact that this column is found under the broader headline “Caribbean ‘Black Power’ — Will Their Plans Affect Yours?” — which itself is found under the ‘Travel and Resorts’ section of the newspaper — speaks for itself in reaffirming the tradition of Northern foreign media constructing and framing Bajan identity in accordance with its own political and economic interests and desires.
Concluding Questions…
I would like to close off this article with acknowledging that national identity formation is absolutely more complex, nuanced and profound than any piece of media could capture with words and images. However, I think there is something to be said for recognising the evolution of national tropes, stereotypes and “characteristics” which can be repeated and reinforced so many times that they become taken for granted. I hope this article may serve to expose that, in the case of formerly colonised countries, national identity was first imposed by colonising forces for debilitating, motivated reasons. And although it may be that centuries of development according to the narrative of “Little England” does indeed reflect truths about our current identity, these are not immutable truths. I believe that — considering the overlapping phenomenon of a global pandemic disrupting tourism as we know it, along with the revitalisation of the Black Lives Matter movement instigating a critical assessment of race relations and Imperial legacies — it is a potent moment for Barbados to be asking, who does this identity really serve? Could we strive for something better? What would that look like? The political unrest of today is of global proportions, history is being thoroughly challenged, new narratives are taking root and a new sense of self, on many levels, is waiting to be born.
Sources
[1] Froude, James Anthony. The English in the West Indies: Or, the Bow of Ulysses. Cambridge Library Collection . Latin American Studies, 2010.
[2] Clarke, Stephen. Travel Writing and Empire: Postcolonial Theory in Transit. London: Zed Books, 1999.
[3] Sheller, Mimi. Consuming the Caribbean : From Arawaks to Zombies. International Library of Sociology 810662647. London [etc.]: Routledge, 2003.
[4] Stephanides, Stephanos, and Susan Bassnett. “Islands, Literature, and Cultural Translatability.” Transtext(e)s Transcultures 跨文本跨文化, no. Hors Série, 2008. pp. 5–21.
[5] Ferguson, Moira, and Mary Louise Pratt. “Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturation.” Eighteenth-Century Studies 26, no. 3, 1993.
[6] Brady, Ciaran. James Anthony Froude: An Intellectual Biography of a Victorian Prophet. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014.
[7] Hearn, Lafcadio. “XXII: Two Years in the French West Indies. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1890.
[8] Anonymous. “Barbados: By One Who Has Wintered There”. The Pall Mall Gazette (London, England), Wednesday, August 30, 1899; Issue 10740. British Library Newspapers, Part I: 1800–1900.
