"Allan Quatermain"
Sir Henry Rider Haggard's major character - and in large part his own alter ego - was the African big game hunter, explorer, and common man's philosopher Allan Quartermain. Although like Conan Doyle Haggard wasn't entirely consistent when it came to details - though the errors in the canon are insignificant compared with those in the Holmes and Watson stories - the life story of Quartermain can be readily reconstructed. What is not in doubt is that while the reader is introduced to Quartermain late in life, in "King Solomon's Mines", and later stories generally take place earlier in his career, it is "Allan Quartermain" which brings the story to an end with the death of the adventurer.
Set some time after "King Solomon's Mines", "Allan Quartermain" commences with the title character in England. With companions Sir Henry Curtis, Bt and Captain Good, and Umslopogaas he has just buried his son, Henry, a trainee doctor, who succumbed to the disease he was treating in a hospital. Haggard himself lost his only son at the age of ten or so, and the pain remained with him throughout his life. This coloured much of his writing, including his portrayal of the deaths of the hero's son, and of other losses, as in "Montezuma's Daughter".
Always restless, and now keen to escape the Yorkshire house where he was haunted by the memories of his son, and other lost loves, Quartermain eagerly accepts the suggestion of Curtis and Good that the embark upon another African adventure. This time the participants anticipate that it may be their last, and bring them to their deaths. Curtis, with his brother George (rescued in "King Solomon's Mines") now blessed with a son and heir, and the succession to the family baronetcy settled, has little to keep him in England. Good, always a friend and a gentleman, is also keen to escape one of the romantic entanglements to which he is prone. Umslopogaas, remaining in England as Quartermain's servant, but really his friend and companion, is also anxious to retain to African, lest his "muscles turn to water", and he longs for another battle before he joins the shades.
Quartermain, never one to neglect the opportunity to collect native stories - like Haggard himself - announces that he does indeed have an objective for them. Legend has long told of a white race in the middle of Africa, and Quartermain wished to search for it. Of course, if it did not exist there would be plenty of big game, and unknown tribes and other distractions to amuse and inspire. After the usual preparations, and a voyage to Africa, the party set off, accompanied by a fairly modest caravan of bearers and "boys" (commanded, as usual, by Umslopogaas). Haggard himself was convinced of the existence of a lost white tribe, and this was to prove a mainspring in his creative imagination, with "King Solomon's Mines", "Elissa: Or, the Doom of Zimbabwe", "The Ivory Child", "Queen Sheba's Ring" and "She" - and of course "Allan Quartermain" itself - (and others) being derived from this belief. It is perhaps to be regretted that this notion finds little support in scholarly historical studies, although we can perhaps see in the fate of the sub-Egyptian kingdoms of north and central Africa an echo of what Haggard envisaged.
The Quartermain expedition followed the usual pattern, of departure from civilisation - in this case one of the African cities then in rapid growth - into the hinterland. Post-colonial Africa, and especially post-apartheid Africa, tends to obscure the extent to which the modern face of the continent is due to the influence, and the sacrifice, of generations of white settlers. The descendants of those men and women are now mostly dispossessed of their farms and livelihoods, and exiled from their countries of birth, or precariously hanging on - and facing the inevitable next stage of the ethnic cleansing which we have seen since about 1960. It is all too often forgotten that the cities and towns of Africa are largely the product of European trade and industry, and Africans themselves for long lived on the margins - not because they were excluded, but because they had little involvement in the European's money economy, and dwelt in their own kraals. Moreover, in much of Africa there were very few natives. It is easy to forget that in southern Africa the Dutch and later English settlers arrived before the Zulu and other Bantu races, and therefore have a stronger claim to the land than the latter. Unfortunately the prevailing ethos is Africa for the Africans - for which we must read "blacks" - and there is no place for the descendants of white settlers in the new model Africa. It is a pity that this new model also includes rampant corruption, civil wars, AIDS epidemics, and other horrors. It is scarcely to be wondered that a prominent American African human rights leader, after a visit to the dark continent, remarked - and brought considerable publicity for so doing - that he was grateful to the men who enslaved his ancestors and so led him to be born in the relatively benign social political and economic climate of the USA.
I was amused, but also saddened, to read the account of a visit to British Somaliland in the later 1950s by the late Duchess of Gloucester. She told of a conversation with an elderly chief. The man told the duchess that he was sad to see the end of colonial government in his country - independence, and amalgamation with Italian Somaliland was imminent. He feared this the younger generation, his son and the latters colleagues, were not well placed to run the country, and hoped that the British might stay. Unfortunately they did not, and today Somalia is widely regarded as a failed state - though ironically, but perhaps unsurprisingly the former British Somaliland is a de facto independent state, and much more effectively governed than the rest of the country. Much has been said of the evils of colonial rule, and it is probably too early to make an objective assessment, but I believe we have been too ready to dismiss the colonial era. In the name Africa - and other parts of the world - were well run by men of dedication and probity, and their subjects benefitted from their firm but benign rule. Such sentiments doubtless mean that I am to be classified as a racist; if so, yet I can offer no apology for telling the truth as I see it.
Haggard himself had no trouble with the notion of white government in Africa. But for the most part white and black co-existed (one might say happily, though that would perhaps be carrying the argument too far), with African chiefs governing their own peoples in geographically separate territories. His sympathy lay with the Africans, as can be seen in the often hauntingly beautiful and achingly sensitive portrayal of the death of the Zulu kingdom in the trilogy "Marie, "Child of Storm" and "Finished" ("Montezuma's Daughter" maintains a similar attitude to the pre-European Americas). He valued the Africans for their relative simplicity of life and manners, and for their open nature (see "Black Heart and White Heart", for a very unflattering portrait of a villainous white man and a noble black man) - but he was not blind to their less desirable attributes, much of which could be laid at the door of their superstitutions. Haggard was a Christian gentleman, and made a point of emphasing that this was the driving force in Quartermain's character, but he also recognised that there was much to value in the religious beliefs, if not the practises, of the heathens. More on his attitude to religion can be found in his very moving "The Wizard". It is worth recalling that the twentieth century saw more martyrs than any previous century, and the twenty-first century will probably see many more, though probably not on so vast a scale. Just as the Rev'd Thomas Owen gave his life in Africa to bring a light to the darkness of its people, so too all Christian men and women (whether practising Christians, or even baptised or not makes little difference, for all are seen by the enemies of God as Christians) who die at the hands of Islamic terrorists are martyrs.
The journey north is interrupted by a lengthy stay at a mission station run by a Scottish family. The travellers inadvertantly draw the attention of hostile Masai natives to the mission, and the missionary's young daughter is kidnapped. She will be killed if they don't surrender. Quartermain offers himself in exchange, which the father declines. Quartermain, with the modesty for which he is noted, observed that he was better suited to the fate the blacks doubtless had in store, being male, and already in his old age. Furthermore, his death would not bring about that of any close relatives, from grief. Haggard, in keeping with contemporary nicety, does not elaborate on the nature of the fate awaiting the girl. The sqeamish might object, but in "Marie" we see the same terrible dilemma aluded to, when the youthful Quartermain prepares to shoot Marie, then little more than a child, rather than let her fall alive into the hands of the Zulu. The reality is that rape, and probably torture, awaited the child, had she not been rescued, or shot herself, as she was prepared to do. The most terrible aspect is that even today children, both black and white, are believed to be raped, mutilated and murdered in parts of Africa, mostly for the purposes of making traditional medicine. Apparently the organs - eyes and genitals are popular - make more efficacious medicine if extracted from still-living victims. The screams of the "donor" help ensure their potency, and pre-pubescent children are very popular, with a premium for white children. As sexual intercourse with virgins is regarded as a cure for AIDS these children, boys and girls, are often raped before the process of extracting the medicine commences. Just as the truth about most if not all African governments can scarcely be uttered for fear of being met with cries of "racism", so any account of such fiendish practices is liable to be met with incredulity or hostility - but African police forces are aware of the problem, even if they are unsure of its extent. Had Haggard been writing today doubtless he might have described the details of the likely fate of the child (accounts of which can be found in the diaries of missionaries, soldiers and others in Africa, though rarely in the standard published histories). Life, for some at least, could be "nasty, brutish and short", but love, loyalty and friendship outlived all.
After successfully destroying the Masai company set to kill them, though at some cost to themselves, the expedition recommensed its northward trek, on the evidence of the missionary, who was able to tell Quartermain of a wanderer from the very land he was seeking. They make use of the river which had brought them this far, but it almost caused their deaths, as they were swept into an underground river. The trip through the underground river - with its mysterious flame - is reminiscent of scenes in other works, such as "She". It really only serves the purpose of showing that return was well-neigh impossible - and disposing of their last surviving porter. There is an incident with some giant crabs which reminds one of scenes in H G Wells' "The Time Machine". The journey is, in some respects, an easy one, and a swift. Ultimately they emerge upon a large lake - really an inland sea - which marks the southern boundary of the very land they are seeking.
The arrival of the adventurers at Milosis (for this is the name of the city and country which it rules) is slightly laboured. Incredibly enough Good has brought his full-dress uniform with him, which he dons to the delight of the people of Milosis. To show their strength they shoot some suspiciously tame hippopotomus, which later almost causes their deaths at the hands of the offended priests of the country. This incident is contrived - though this had important consequences, so perhaps was necessary.
Milosis, or the "Frowning City", is not well described - it differs little from the capital of the Khans of Kaloon (see "Ayesha, the Return of She"). Even the great staircase, which Haggard describes in detail, and which has a major role to play in the story, has little to distinguish it from the bridge leading to the castle of the Assassins in "The Brethren: A Romance of the Crusades". The priests and nobles of the city are little different from those in his other stories. It is the human characters of the rival queens, the little French cook (who joined the expedition at the mission station), the Scottish missionary, and above all of Quartermain and Umslopogaas, which makes this story one of Haggard's most moving and powerful.
As is only to be expected the arrival of white strangers causes something of a sensation among a people who themselves are white (or olive-skinned) but who are surrounded by black tribes - at least beyond the almost impenetrable mountains which surround the country the people are black. Haggard is vindicated - not that is friends ever doubted him - but their arrival causes problems for the twin queens who rule the kingdom, and excites the emnity of the high priest. As is perhaps to be expected both queens fall in love with Curtis, who however favours the fair queen. Her dark haired sister is also dark-natured, and exacts a terrible vengeance, levying war upon her own sister.
After the defeat of the dark queen's army and the discovery to Curtis, Good and Quartermain by Alfonse (the cook, who was a prisoner of the rebels) of the plot to murder the queen, Quartermain and Umslopogaas start on one of the long, urgent rides in which Haggard delights - and which he describes so powerfully. The lesser horse (still no mean stead, a general's horse) dies, but the noble horse "Daylight" shows remarkable powers of endurance. Yet it is the endurance of Umslopogaas and the tenacity of Quartermain - who reach the palace in time to warn the queen - which dominate this episode. The dog-like endurance of the negro would perhaps strike the "politically correct" as racist, yet Haggard clearly intended no such thing. Umslopogaas demonstrates incredible powers of strength, but more than that his loyalty to his master and friend, and to the queen of his fellow-travellers, drives him to joyfully hazard his life. For him, as for Quartermain, to fail to do his duty was to be less than a dog. If doing one's duty meant dying then so be it; one could hope for no better death. Unknown to the others, Quartermain does in fact sacrifice himself just as surely as Umslopogaas later, as the ride will drive into his vitals a spearpoint which he received in protecting Good during the battle. For a man with a self-confessed hatred of battle, Quartermain managed to find himself in an extraordinary number of fights - and the battle of Milosis is the greatest of them all.
At the palace the queen is defenceless - her guards have been suborned or led astray, except for one loyal officer who has managed to escape. The servants have fled, believing the army has been defeated and that the rebels are at the gates. Quartermain, Umslopogaas, and the young women attendants upon the queen, are alone left to guard the queen. Here we have the picture of true romance; a handful of men - for the injured officer and Umslopogaas alone can fight - standing against enormous odds, and facing certain death. They can but hope to win enough time for help to arrive, before they fall before the foe. The women cannot fight - the queen would willingl do so, but it would be impossible for her to do so and live, and her safety far outwayed the importance of anyone else present. The maids were little more than children, but they did invaluable work in building up a temporary rampart for the defenders.
The defence of the great stair at Milosis is probably the highpoint of the story, and one of Haggard's masterpieces of tragic drama - akin to the death of Nada in "Nada the Lily" - and a true piece of epic narration. Umslopogaas knows he is doomed, but the hero could scarcely hope for a better end, defending his queen against a large band of assassins. If Caesar had his Umslopogaas the history of the western world might well have been very different. Quartermain, consistent with his self-declared "cowardice", had pretended to take a relatively inactive role during the battle, though actually his role was pivotal, and he received a mortal wound in saving Good. He is now seriously injured and exhausted after their ride, and is unable to give Umslopogaas more than moral support. Of course this is probably the author's device to allow Quartermain to narrate - in his own words - the final minutes of Umslopogaas' life; something he couldn't have done had he shared Umslopogaas's fate. His fate is not reserved for Hunter Quartermain. Mortally wounded, but victorious, Umslopogaas staggers from the field of battle, and dies in destroying in one preternaturally powerful blow the ancient meteoric stone of Milosis, and the Chieftainess, his famed battleaxe. The destruction of the stone fulfils a prophecy, that a dynasty of foreign blood will rule Milosis, for Curtis is now married to the queen.
Quartermain himself dies after a long lingering decline, as described in a postscript by Curtis. He dies in his bed, like the English gentleman that he is, and as a result of battle, as is befitting a hero. Haggard doubtless anticipated Quartermain entering Valhalla to be met by Umslopogaas and his battleaxe.
One cannot but help thinking that Haggard himself envied his own alter ego, and perhaps would have wished to discover a Milosis of his own. While doubtless he enjoyed the advantages of modern technology, the haste of modern life was not to his taste. It is easy to praise any century but this and any country but our own (to paraphrase what Gilbert wrote in Sullivan's "The Mikado"); but Haggard had an abiding respect for history, which he seems to have felt was gradually being lost in the supposedly civilised west. Exploring darkest Africa, discovering lost civilisations, marrying a beautiful young queen, foiling the plots of a wily archpriest, and leading large armies in battle, appealed to Haggard, who doubtless felt stifled by modern life. It is entirely consistent with Haggard's worldview that he has Curtis, now married to the queen, planning to ensure that Milosis remained isolated from outside influences. Rightly Haggard recognises what the Marquess of Normanby saw when he instructed Captain Hobson in 1839 to treat with the natives of New Zealand: that contact would mean a "process of war and spoliation, under which uncivilized tribes have almost invariably disappeared as often as they have been brought into the immediate vicinity of emigrants from the nations of Christendom[1]. In Africa only Christian Ethiopia survived the nineteenth century expansion of colonial powers in Africa, though it too suffered the destruction of much of its civilisation, in the twentieth century, after the deposition and murder of Emperor Haile Salessie I.
"Allan Quartermain" is not one of Haggard's strongest stories, for it contains too many divergent elements for that. But nevertheless it contains much of beauty and power, and at its best it reaches the highest levels of narrative storytelling. Though it does tell of the deaths of two of his most famous characters, it is an excellent introduction to his writing, containing as it does elements of African tribalism, battles, subterranean caverns, lost race mythology, and so on. It may lack the supernatural elements found in many of his other books, but the characterisation - often a weak aspect, as Haggard himself acknowledged - is among his strongest.
[1] Marquess of Normanby to Captain William Hobson, 14 August 1839; Great Britain: Parliamentary Papers 1844, 16/37.