Madame Pfeiffer came to Urumiyeh, on the borders of the salt lake of
that name, which, in some of its physical features, closely resembles
the Dead Sea. Urumiyeh is a place of some celebrity, for it gave birth
to Zaravusthra (or Zoroaster), the preacher of a creed of considerable
moral purity, which still claims a large number of adherents in Asia.
Entering a more fertile country, she reached Tabriz in safety, and
rejoiced to find herself again within the influence of law and order.
Tabriz, the residence of a viceroy, is a handsomely built town, with
numerous silk and leather manufactories; it is reputed to be one of the
chief seats of Asiatic commerce. Its streets are clean and tolerably
broad; in each a little rivulet is carried underground, with openings at
regular intervals giving access to the water. Of the houses the
passer-by sees no more than is seen in any other Oriental town: lofty
windowless walls, with low entrances to the street, while the inner
front looks upon open courtyards, which bloom with trees and flowers,
and usually adjoin a pleasant garden.
On the 16th of August, Madame Pfeiffer quitted Tabriz, and in a vehicle
drawn by post-horses she set out, with one attendant, for Natchivan. At
Arax she crossed the Russian frontier. Reaching Natchivan after an
uneventful journey, she joined a caravan bound for Tiflis, the drivers
of which were Tartars. Of the latter she remarks that they do not live
so frugally as the Arabs. Every evening a savoury pilau was made for
their enjoyment, frequently with dried grapes or plums.
The caravan route lay through the large fertile valleys which lie at the
base of Ararat. Of that famous and majestic mountain, which lifts its
wan and aged brow some 16,000 feet above the sea-level, our traveller
obtained a noble view. Its summit is cloven into two peaks; and in the
hollow between, an ancient tradition affirms that Noah's ark rested on
the subsidence of the Great Flood.
In the neighbourhood of a town called Sidin, Madame Pfeiffer met with a
curious adventure. She was returning from a short walk, when catching
the sound of approaching post-horses, she paused for a moment to see the
travellers, who consisted of a Russian seated in an open car, with a
Cossack carrying a musket by his side. As soon as the vehicle had passed
she resumed her walk; when, to her astonishment, it stopped suddenly,
and almost at the same moment she felt a strong grasp on her arms. It
was the Cossack, who endeavoured to drag her to the car. She struggled
with him, and pointing to the caravan, said she belonged to it; but the
fellow put his hand on her mouth, and flung her into the car, where she
was firmly seized by the Russian. Then the Cossack sprang in, and away
they went at a smart gallop. The whole affair was the work of a few
seconds; so that Madame Pfeiffer could scarcely tell what had happened;
and as the man still held her tightly, and kept her mouth covered up,
she was unable to give an alarm. The brave woman, however, preserved her
composure, and speedily arrived at the conclusion that her gallant
captors had mistaken her for some dangerous spy. Uncovering her mouth,
they began to question her closely; and Madame Pfeiffer understood
Russian sufficiently to be able, in reply, to tell them her name, native
country, and her object in travelling. This, however, did not satisfy
them, and they asked for her passport, which she could not show them, as
it was in her portmanteau.
At length they reached the post-house. Madame Pfeiffer was shown into a
room, at the door of which the Cossack stationed himself with his
musket. She was detained all night; but the next morning, having fetched
her portmanteau, they examined her passport, and were then good enough
to dismiss her, without offering any apology, however, for their
shameful treatment of her. To such discourtesies travellers in Russian
territories are too often exposed. It is surprising that a powerful
government should stoop to so much craven fear and petty suspicion.
From Tiflis our traveller proceeded across Georgia to Redutkale, whence
she made her way to Kertch, on the shore of the Sea of Azov; and thence
to Sevastopol, destined a few years later to become the scene of a great
historic struggle. She afterwards reached Odessa, one of the great
European granaries, situated at the mouth of the Dniester on the Euxine.
From Odessa to Constantinople the sea-distance is four hundred and
twenty miles. She made but a brief sojourn in the Turkish capital.
Taking the steamer to Smyrna, she passed through the star-like clusters
of the isles of Greece--those isles "where burning Sappho loved and
sung;" and from Smyrna she hastened to Athens. There she trod, indeed,
upon "hallowed ground." Every shattered temple, every ruined monument,
every fragment of arch or column, recalled to her some brave deed of
old; or some illustrious name of philosopher, statesman, poet, patriot,
enshrined for ever in the world's fond remembrance. Madame Pfeiffer was
not a scholar, but she had read enough to feel her sympathies awakened
as she gazed from the lofty summit of the Acropolis on the plains of
Attica and the waters of the AEgean, on Salamis and Marathon. She was not
an artist, but she had a feeling for the beautiful; and she examined
with intense delight the Parthenon, the Temple of Theseus, the Olympian,
the Tower of the Winds, and the graceful choragic monument of
Lysicrates. These, however, have been more fitly described by writers
capable of doing them justice, and Madame Pfeiffer's brief and
commonplace allusions may well be overlooked.
From Athens to Corinth, and from Corinth to Corfu, and thence to
Trieste. Our traveller's bold enterprise was completed on the 30th of
October, and she could honourably boast of having been the first woman
to accomplish the circuit of the globe. She had been absent from Vienna
just two years and six months, and had travelled 2,800 miles by land,
and 35,000 miles by sea. Such an achievement necessarily crowned her
with glory; and when she published her plain and unaffected narrative of
"A Woman's Journey Round the World," it met at once with a most
favourable reception.
At first, on her return home, she spoke of her travelling days as over,
and represented herself, at the age of fifty-one, as desirous only of
peace and repose. But her love of action, her craving after new scenes,
her thirst for knowledge could not long be repressed; and as she felt
herself still strong and healthy, with energies as potent as ever, she
resolved on a second circuit of the globe. Her funds having been
augmented by a grant of 1,500 florins from the Austrian Government, she
quitted Vienna on the 18th of March, 1851, proceeded to London, and
thence to Cape Town, where she arrived on the 11th of August. Her
original intention was to penetrate the African interior as far as Lake
Ngami; but eventually she resolved on exploring the Eastern Archipelago.
At Sarawak, the British settlement in Borneo, she received a warm
welcome from Rajah Sir James Brooke, a man of heroic temper and unusual
capacities for command and organization. As soon as she could complete
the necessary preparations, she boldly plunged into the very heart of
the island--a region almost unknown to Europeans. This was the most
daring enterprise of her life, and of itself stamps her as no ordinary
woman--as, in truth, a woman of scarcely less heroic temper than the
boldest adventurers of the other sex. To endure the pains and perils of
such a journey she must have had, not only a remarkable physical energy,
but a scarcely less remarkable energy of mind. Night after night she
passed in the depths of the vast Bornean forest, a little rice her only
food--journeying all day through thickets, which lacerated her feet;
swimming brooks and rivers too deep to be forded; recoiling before no
form of danger, however unexpected; and astonishing the very savages by
her daring and endurance. She equipped herself in a costume of her own
devising, well adapted for the work she had to do; and protected her
head with a large banana leaf from the burning rays of a tropical sun.
No conjuncture, however critical, found her without resources; and we
hesitate not to say that in the whole history of discovery and
geographical enterprise there is no more wonderful or exciting chapter
than that which records Madame Ida Pfeiffer's travels in the interior of
Borneo.
We owe to her enterprise an interesting account of the character and
usages of the Dyaks. Their ferocity of disposition is proverbial in the
East. It is said that when a Dyak has promised a head--a human head--to
the woman he loves, he will obtain it at any cost. Whether he strikes
down friend or foe he cares not, so long as he secures the ghastly
gift; and his eye being as sure as that of the tiger, his arrow never
misses its aim. When we remember that these savages are cannibals, that
they had never before seen among them an European woman, and that Ida
Pfeiffer went without guard or guide, we begin to realize the full
extent of her daring. But boldness is always the best policy: this
plain-featured, middle-aged woman commanded the respect and admiration
of her hosts, and went from encampment to encampment in entire security.
After visiting the island of Celebes she repaired to Sumatra, which is
inhabited by a race of men even more sanguinary than the Dyaks, namely,
the Battahs, who slake their thirst in human blood, and make of
anthropophagism a "fine art!" It is said that some of the tribes
purchase slaves on purpose to devour them, while, as a matter of course,
prisoners taken in battle and shipwrecked seamen fall victims to their
cannibal appetites. Many voyagers agree in asserting that they also deal
in the same hideous fashion with their old men, who, when they cease to
be of any service to the tribe, are deemed unworthy of longer life; the
sons themselves become the executioners of their fathers, coolly
fastening them to a tree and hacking them to pieces, without showing the
slightest emotion at the spectacle of their agony.
In the course of her explorations in Sumatra, she found herself, on one
occasion, surrounded by a tribe of savages, who would undoubtedly have
treated her as an enemy, if she had not behaved with remarkable
presence of mind. The natives who accompanied her took to flight, and
left her to face the danger alone. "These savages," she says, "were six
feet in stature, and the natural ugliness of their features was
increased by the rage that contorted them. Their large mouths, with
projecting teeth, resembled the jaw of a wild beast. They deafened me
with their yells.... I did not lose my head, but pretending to feel
perfectly assured, I seated myself on a stone close at hand.... The
gestures of the savages left no doubt of their intentions; with their
knives they simulated the action of cutting my throat, with their teeth
they seemed to rend my arms, and they moved up and down their jawbones
as if my flesh were already in their mouths.... Rising, I went straight
to the nearest man, and striking him familiarly on the shoulder, I said,
with a smile, half in Malay and half in Battah, 'Come, come, you will
never have the heart to kill and eat a woman, and an old woman like me,
whose skin is harder than leather!'" A roar of laughter greeted this
courageous speech, and the speaker was immediately received into the
friendship of her savage auditors, who overwhelmed her with marks of
goodwill and admiration.
Having "looked in" at Banda and Amboyna, Madame Pfeiffer quitted the
Moluccas, and having obtained a gratuitous passage across the Pacific,
sailed for California. On the 29th of September, 1853, she arrived at
San Francisco. At the end of the year she sailed for Callao, the port of
Lima, with the design of crossing the Andes, and pushing eastward,
through the interior of South America, to the Brazilian coast. A
revolution in Peru compelled her, however, to change her course, and she
made her way to Ecuador, which served as a starting-point for her ascent
of the Cordilleras. After witnessing an eruption of the volcano of
Cotopaxi, she retraced her steps to the West. In the neighbourhood of
Guayaquil she had two very narrow escapes--one by a fall from her mule,
and another by accidentally falling into the river Guaya, which swarms
with alligators. In no part of the world did she meet with so little
sympathy or so much discourtesy as in Spanish America, and she was
heartily glad to set sail for Panama.
Crossing the Isthmus towards the close of May, 1854, she sailed for New
Orleans. Thence she ascended the majestic but muddy Mississippi to
Napoleon, and the Arkansas to Fort Smith. A severe attack of fever
detained her for several days. On recovering her strength she travelled
to St. Louis, the Falls of St. Anthony, Chicago--which was then
beginning to justify its claim to the title of "Queen of the West"--and
the vast inland seas of Lakes Superior, Michigan, Erie, and Ontario.
After a rapid visit to Canada, she recrossed the frontier of the United
States; and from Boston proceeded to New York and other great cities,
and then undertook the voyage to England, where she arrived on the 21st
of November, 1854. The narrative of her adventures was published in
1856, under the title of "My Second Journey Round the World."
[Illustration: CAPE OF GOOD HOPE.]
It might have been supposed that, at the age of fifty-nine, this female
Odysseus would have rested content with her world-wanderings, and spent
the few remaining years of life in peace; but her restless spirit could
not endure inaction. There is something in the nature of travel to
stimulate rather than satisfy the appetite, and it does not seem that
any who have once entered on the vocation are able or willing to
withdraw themselves from it. The charm of perpetual motion is upon them,
as upon that unfortunate Jew, who, bending beneath the weight of
eighteen hundred years, is still supposed to be roaming over the face of
the earth.
On the 21st of May, 1856, she once more took up her pilgrim's staff. Her
first visits were made to the great cities of Western Europe--Berlin,
Amsterdam, Leyden, Rotterdam, Paris, and London. In each the scientific
world received her with open arms. At Paris she was specially honoured
by the _Societe de Geographie_. At a public reception she was addressed
by the president, de Jomard, who, after briefly enumerating her titles
to distinction, said:--"Madame, in your favour we design to commit an
irregularity of which our Society is proud: we name you an honorary
member by the side of your country-men, Humboldt and Karl Ritter;" and
recalling a famous saying, he added, "Nothing is wanting to your glory,
madame, but you are wanting to ours."
She now undertook--what to her was merely a brief holiday-trip--the
voyage to the Cape of Good Hope. There she hesitated for a while in
what direction she should turn her adventurous steps before she pushed
forward to the goal on which she had fixed her aims--Madagascar. At
length she decided on a visit to the Mauritius.
In the scenery of this rich and beautiful island she saw much to admire.
Its volcanic mountains are characterized by the boldest and most
picturesque outlines. Its vegetation witnesses everywhere to Nature's
lavish use of her materials. Each deep gorge or mountain-valley blooms
with foliage; the slopes are hung with stately trees, graceful shrubs,
and masses of creeping and climbing plants; from crag to crag falls the
silver of miniature cascades. Madame Pfeiffer did not fail to visit the
sugar-cane plantations, which cover the broad and fertile plains of
Pamplimousse. She learned that the sugar-cane is not raised from seed,
but that pieces of cane are planted. The first cane requires eighteen
months to ripen; but as, meanwhile, the chief stem throws out shoots,
each of the succeeding harvests can be gathered in at intervals of
twelve months: hence four crops can be obtained in four years and a
half. After the fourth harvest, the field must be cleared completely of
the cane. If the land be virgin soil, on which no former crop has been
raised, fresh slips of cane may be planted immediately, and thus eight
crops secured in nine years. But if such be not the case, "umbregades"
must be planted; that is, a leafy plant, growing to the height of eight
or nine feet, the leaves of which continually falling, decay, and
fertilize the soil. After two years the plants are rooted out, and the
ground is once more occupied by a sugar plantation.
When the canes are ripe, and the harvest begins, as many canes are cut
down every day as can be pressed and boiled at once. The cane is
introduced between two rollers, set in motion by steam power, and
pressed until it is quite flat and dry; in this state it is used for
fuel. The juice is strained successively into six pans, of which the
first is exposed to the greatest heat, the force of the fire being
diminished gradually under each of the others. In the last pan the sugar
is found half crystallized. It is then deposited on great wooden tables
to cool, and granulate into complete crystals of about the size of a
pin's head. Lastly it is poured into wooden colanders, to filter it
thoroughly from the molasses still remaining. The whole process occupies
eight or ten days. Such, in brief, is Madame Pfeiffer's explanation.
Our adventurous lady--now in her sixtieth year--made an excursion, of
course, to Mont Orgueil, which commands a very fine view of the island
scenery. On one side the high ridge of the Mont Brabant, which is linked
to the mainland only by a narrow neck of earth, stretches far out into
the shining sea; near at hand rises the Pitou de la Riviere Noire, the
loftiest summit in the island--2,564 feet. In another direction are
visible the green heights of the Tamarin and the Rempart; in a fourth
may be seen the three-headed mountain called the Trois Mammelles.
Contiguous to these opens a deep caldron, two of the sides of which
have broken down in ruin, while the others remain erect and precipitous.
Besides these, the view includes the Caps de Garde du Port Louis de
Mocca, Le Pouce, with its narrow peak projecting over the plateau like a
thumb, and the precipitous Peter Botte.
Madame Pfeiffer also paid a visit to the Trou de Cerf, or "Stag's Hole,"
a crater of perfectly regular formation, brimful of bloom and foliage.
As its locality is indicated by no sign or landmark, the traveller is
seized with astonishment on suddenly finding it lying open beneath his
feet. The prospect from this point embraces three-fourths of the island;
majestic mountains clothed in virgin forests almost to their very
crests; wide-spreading plains, green with the sugar-cane plantations;
rich verdure-clad valleys where the shadows drowsily linger; and beyond,
and all around, the dark blue shining sea with a fringe of pearly foam
indicating the broken outline of the coast.
* * * * *
It was on the 25th of April, 1857, that Madame Pfeiffer sailed for
Madagascar, and on the last day of the month she reached the port of
Tamatave. Of late years Tamatave has grown into a place of much
commercial importance, but in Madame Pfeiffer's time it was but a poor,
though a very large village, with between 4,000 and 5,000 inhabitants.
Obtaining permission to pass into the interior of the island, she
penetrated as far as Antananarivo, or "City of a Thousand Towers," the
capital. As she approached it, she could see it picturesquely planted
on a high hill that rose almost suddenly out of the broad and fertile
inland plain; and after a pleasant journey through rich and beautiful
scenery, she came upon the suburbs, which enclose it on all sides.
At first the suburbs were simply villages; but they have gradually
expanded until they have touched one another, and formed a united
aggregate. Most of the houses are built of earth or clay; but those
belonging to the city itself must, by royal decree, be constructed of
planks, or at least of bamboo. They are all of a larger size than the
dwellings of the villagers; are much cleaner, and kept in better
condition. The roofs are very high and steep, with long poles reared at
each end by way of ornament. Many of the houses, and sometimes groups of
three or four houses, are encircled by low ramparts of earth, which,
apparently, serve no other purpose than to separate the courtyards from
the neighbouring tenements. The streets and squares are all very
irregularly built; the houses are not placed in rows, but in
clusters--some at the foot of the hill, others on its slopes. The summit
is occupied by the royal palace.
When Madame Pfeiffer visited Madagascar, its sovereign was Queen
Ranavala, a woman notorious for her blood-thirstiness, her antipathy to
Europeans, and her persecution of the Christian converts. That from this
feminine tyrant she obtained so many concessions--such as permission to
travel about the island, and even admission to the royal presence, would
seem to argue the possession of some faculty of fascination. Her
reception by the Queen was not without interest.
Towards four o'clock in the afternoon Madame Pfeiffer was conveyed to
the palace, over the door of which a great gilded eagle expands its
wings. According to rule, in stepping across the threshold the visitor
put her right foot foremost; and this formula she also observed on
entering, through a second gateway, the spacious courtyard in front of
the palace. Here the Queen was visible, having her seat in a balcony on
the first story, and Madame Pfeiffer and her attendants stood in a row
in the courtyard opposite to her. Under the balcony some soldiers were
going through various evolutions, which terminated, comically enough, in
a sudden lifting up of the right foot as if it had been stung by a wasp.
The Queen was attired in a wide silk _simboo_, and wore on her head a
large golden crown. She sat in the shade, but, nevertheless, an ample
umbrella of crimson silk--throughout the East a sign of royal
dignity--was held over her head. She was of rather dark complexion,
strongly and even sturdily built, and, though seventy-five years of age,
remarkably hale and active. On her right stood her son, Prince Rakoto;
on her left, her adopted son, Prince Ramboasalama. Behind her were
gathered nephews, nieces, and other relatives, and the dignitaries and
grandees of the kingdom.
The minister who introduced Madame Pfeiffer and her companion--M.
Lambret, a French adventurer, who at one time played a prominent part
in the affairs of Madagascar--addressed a short speech to the Queen;
after which the visitors had to bow thrice, and to repeat the words
"Esaratsara tombokoe" (We salute you cordially), the Queen replying,
"Esaratsara" (We salute you). They then turned to the left to salute
King Radama's tomb, which was close at hand, with three similar bows,
afterwards taking up their former position in front of the balcony, and
making three additional obeisances. M. Lambret next held up a gold piece
of eighty francs value, and placed it in the hands of the minister who
had introduced them. This gift, which is presented by every stranger, is
called "Monosina." The Queen then asked M. Lambret if he wished to put
any question to her, or if he needed anything, and also addressed a few
words to Madame Pfeiffer. The obeisances and greetings were then
resumed, due reverence was paid to King Radama's monument, and the
visitors, as they retired, were again cautioned not to put the left foot
first over the threshold.
Soon afterwards, Queen Ranavala gave a banquet in honour of her visitor,
and invited--or, perhaps, we should say commanded--her to give a musical
performance before all her court.