of the scribe nor the skill of the painter can hope to reproduce, and
this is one of them. It is awful in its grandeur, terrible in its
sublimity, like Milton's Satan. It fascinates, and yet repels; charms
the eye, while it chills the heart. One trembles with the sense of a
dire terrific power, which at any moment may leap into the clay, and
sweep the shattered island into destruction. But dreadful as it is by
day, a deeper dread attaches to it by night, when the glare of those
leaping fountains and rolling billows of molten lava is reflected
athwart the darkness of heaven. And as the night advances and the
darkness increases, a wonderful phantasmagoria of colour invests the
fiery lake--jet black merges suddenly into palest grey; the deepest
maroon changes, through cherry and scarlet, into the exquisitest hues of
pink and blue and violet; the richest brown pales, through orange and
yellow, into a delicate straw. Lady Brassey adds that there was yet
another shade, which can be described only by the term "molten lava
colour." The wreaths and wheeling clouds of smoke and vapour were by all
these borrowed lights and tints translated into beautiful gleaming
mist-like creations--belonging neither to earth nor air, but born of the
molten flame and seething fire--which seemed splendidly and
appropriately displayed against the amphitheatre of black peaks,
pinnacles, and crags rising in the background. Of these great pieces
would sometimes break off, and with a crash fall into the burning lake,
there to be remelted and in due time thrown up anew.[33]
The time spent at Honolulu by Lady Brassey was by no means wasted. She
kept both eyes and ears well open, and suffered nothing to escape her
which could throw any light on the manners and customs of the Hawaiian
population. Though not a deep, she was a close and an accurate
observer; and her book may advantageously be consulted by others than
the "general reader."
The Hawaiians, as a people with a good deal of leisure, upon whose
shoulders as yet civilization has laid none of its heavier burdens, are
naturally prone to amusement, and cultivate their numerous national
sports with a good deal of energy and skill. Foremost amongst these is
the well-known pastime of surf-swimming--a pastime the origin of which
it is not difficult to understand. It is one in which both men and women
join. Armed with a surf-board--a flat piece of wood, about four feet
long by two feet wide, pointed at each end--which they put edge-wise in
front of them, they swim out into the broad and beautiful bay, and dive
under the surf-crested billows of the Pacific. When at a certain
distance from the land, a distance regulated by the swimmer's measure of
strength and address, he chooses a large wave, and either astride, or
kneeling, or standing upon his board, allows himself to be swept in
shore upon its curling crest with headlong speed. The spectator might
almost fancy him to be mounted upon the sea-horse of ancient myths, and
holding its grey curling mane, as it snorts and champs and plunges
shoreward, wrapped in spray and foam. To this vigorous sport the
Hawaiians are exceedingly partial. They are almost to the manner born,
for from their earliest childhood they live an amphibious life, and
never seem happier than when they are diving, swimming, bathing, or
playing tricks in the bright emerald waters that wash the smiling shores
of their favoured isle, or in those of the pleasant river that flows by
the groves and gardens of Hilo.
On a sunny afternoon half the population of the latter town may be seen
"disporting themselves in, upon, and beneath the water." Climbing the
steep and rugged rocks that form the opposite bank, they take headers
and footers and siders from any elevation under five-and-twenty feet,
diving and swimming in every imaginable attitude, and with a kind of
easy and spontaneous grace that commands admiration. One of their great
feats is thus described: A couple of natives undertake to jump from a
precipice, one hundred feet high, into the river below, clearing in
their descent a rock, which at about a distance of twenty feet from the
summit, projects as far from the face of the cliff. The two men--lithe,
tall, and strong--are seen standing on the green height, their long hair
confined by a wreath of leaves and flowers, while a similar wreath is
twisted round the waist. With a keen, quick glance they measure the
distance, and fall back some yards, in order to run and acquire the
needful impetus. Suddenly one of them reappears, takes a flying leap
from the rock, executes a somersault in mid-air, and feet foremost
plunges into the pool beneath, to rise again almost immediately, and
climb the steep river-bank with an air of serene indifference. His
companion having performed the same exploit, the two clambered up to the
projection of which we have spoken, and again dropped into the river
waters; a less wonderful feat than their former, but still one requiring
both pluck and skill.
Among the games mentioned by Lady Brassey are spear-throwing,
transfixing an object with a dart, _kona_, an elaborate kind of
draughts, and _talu_, which consists in hiding a small stone under one
of five pieces of cloth placed in front of the players. One hides the
stone, and his companions have to guess where it is hidden; and it
generally happens that, however skilfully the hider may glide his arm
under the cloth and shift from one piece to another, a clever player
detects where he lets go the stone by the movement of the muscles of the
upper part of his arm. Another game, _tarua_, resembles the Canadian
sport of "tobogonning," only it is carried on upon the grass instead of
upon the frozen surface of the snow. The performers stand erect on a
narrow plank, turned up in front, which they guide with a kind of
paddle. Starting from the summit of a hill or a mountain, they sweep
down the grassy slopes at a furious pace, preserving their balance with
admirable dexterity. For the game of _pahe_, which is also very popular,
a specially prepared smooth floor is necessary, and along this the
javelins of the players glide like snakes. On the same kind of floor
they play _maita_, or _uru maita_. Two sticks are fixed in the ground,
only a few inches apart, and from a distance of thirty or forty yards
the player seeks to throw a stone--the _uru_--between them; the _uru_
being circular in shape, three or four inches in diameter, and an inch
in thickness, except at the middle, where it is thicker.[34]
We pass on to Japan, and accompany Lady Brassey to a Japanese dinner in
a Japanese tea-house. The dinner took place in an apartment which, as an
exact type of a room in any Japanese house, may fitly be described. The
roof and the screens, which form the sides, are all made of a handsome
dark-polished wood resembling walnut. The exterior walls under the
verandah, as well as the partitions between the other rooms, are simply
screens of wooden lattice-work, covered with white paper, and sliding in
grooves; so that a person walks in or out at any part of the wall he
thinks proper to select or finds convenient. This arrangement
necessarily dispenses with doors and windows. If you wish to look out,
you open a little bit of your wall, or a larger bit if you step out.
Instead of carpets, the floor is strewn with several thicknesses of very
fine mats, each about six feet long by three feet broad, "deliciously
soft to walk upon." All Japanese mats are of the same size, and they
constitute the standard by which everything connected with
house-building or house-furnishing is measured. Once you have prepared
your foundations and woodwork of the dimensions of so many mats, you may
go to a shop and buy a ready-made house, which you can then set up and
furnish in the light Japanese fashion in a couple of days; but then such
a house is fitted only for a Japanese climate.
In the room into which Lady Brassey was introduced was raised, on one
side, a slight dais, about four inches from the floor, as a seat of
honour. A stool, a little bronze ornament, and a China vase, in which a
branch of cherry-blossom and a few flag-leaves were gracefully arranged,
occupied it. On the wall behind hung pictures, which are changed every
month, according to the season of the year. Four comely Japanese girls
brought thick cotton quilts for the visitors to sit upon, and braziers
full of burning charcoal that they might warm themselves. In the centre
they placed another brazier, protected by a square wooden grating, with
a large silk eider-down quilt laid over it, to keep in the heat. "This
is the way in which all the rooms, even bedrooms, are warmed in Japan,
and the result is that fires are of very frequent occurrence. The
brazier is kicked over by some restless or careless person, and in a
moment the whole place is in a blaze."
In due time brazier and quilt are removed, and dinner makes its
appearance. Before each guest is placed a small lacquer table, about six
inches high, with a pair of chopsticks, a basin of soup, a bowl of rice,
a saki cup, and a basin of hot water; while in the middle sat the four
Japanese Hebes, with fires to keep the saki hot, and light the long
pipes they carried, from which they wished their visitors to take a
whiff after each dish. Saki is a kind of spirit, distilled from rice,
always drunk hot out of small cups. It is not unpleasant in this state,
but when cold few European palates can relish it.
The Japanese cookery was very good, though some of the dishes were
compounded of ingredients not generally mixed together by the cooks of
the West. Here is the bill of fare:--
Soup.
Shrimps and Seaweeds.
Prawns, Egg Omelette, and Preserved Grapes.
Fried Fish, Spinach, Young Rushes, and Young Ginger.
Raw Fish, Mustard and Cress, Horseradish, and Soy.
Thick Soup--of Eggs, Fish, Mushrooms, and Spinach; Grilled
Fish.
Fried Chicken and Bamboo Shoots.
Turnip Tops and Root Pickled.
Rice _ad libitum_ in a large bowl.
Hot Saki, Pipes, and Tea.
The last dish presented was an enormous lacquer box of rice, from which
all the bowls were filled--the rice being thence carried to the mouth of
each guest by means of chopsticks, in the use of which it is only
practice that makes perfect.
Between each course a long interval occurred, which was filled up with
songs, music, and dancing, performed by professional singing and dancing
girls. The music was somewhat harsh and monotonous; but a word of praise
may be given to the songs and to the dancing, or rather posturing, for
there was little of that agility of foot practised by European dancers.
"The girls, who were pretty, wore peculiar dresses to indicate their
calling, and seemed of an entirely different stamp from the quiet,
simply-dressed waitresses whom we found so attentive to our wants; still
they all looked cheery, light-hearted, simple creatures, and appeared to
enjoy immensely the little childish games they played amongst
themselves between whiles."[35]
This "Voyage Round the World," from which we must now turn aside, does
not sum up Lady Brassey's achievements as a traveller. She accompanied
her husband, in 1874, on a cruise to the Arctic Circle, but has
published no record of this enterprise. On their return, the
indefatigable couple started on a voyage to the East, visiting
Constantinople, the city of gilded palaces and mosques, of harems and
romance; and skimming the sunny waters of the Bosphorus and the Golden
Horn. In 1878 they made a second excursion to the Mediterranean,
revisiting Constantinople, and seeing it in storm and shadow as they had
previously seen it in sunshine; and exploring Cyprus, which then had
been but recently brought under British dominion. Lady Brassey's
narrative of her Mediterranean cruises and Oriental experiences has the
distinctive merits of her former work--the same unpretending simplicity
and clearness of style, the same quick appreciation of things that float
upon the surface; but it necessarily lacks its interest and special
value. It goes over familiar--nay, over hackneyed--ground, and thus
inevitably comes into comparison with the works of preceding travellers,
such as Miss Martineau and the author of "Eoethen," to whose high
standard Lady Brassey would be the first to acknowledge that she has no
pretensions to attain.
There is a certain amount of freshness in the following brief sketch of
Athens[36]:--
"We drove first to the Temple of Theseus, the most perfectly preserved
temple of the ancient world. The situation has sheltered it from shot
and shell; but, without doubt, it owes its escape from destruction in
part to the circumstance that in the Middle Ages it was consecrated as a
church. It is a beautiful building, with its double row of columns,
bas-reliefs, and roof all perfect, and now contains an interesting
collection of antiquities, gathered from its immediate neighbourhood.
Thence we drove up the hill to the Acropolis, passing on our way the
modern observatory on the Hill of the Nymphs. The Hill of Pnyx rose on
our right, and the Areopagus, where St. Paul preached, on our left. We
entered the gates, and, passing among ruins of all kinds--statues,
bas-reliefs, columns, capitals, and friezes--soon approached the
propylaea. Then we went to the little Temple of Victory, closed with iron
gates, and full of most exquisite bits of statues and bas-reliefs,
specially two dancing girls, graceful in attitude and full of life and
action. After these preliminary peeps at loveliness and art, we went up
the long flight of steps, past the Pinartheca, and soon stood on the top
of the Hill of the Acropolis, and in full view of all its glories.
"On one side was the splendid Parthenon, on the other the Erechtheum,
with the Porch of Caryatides, called Beautiful, and right well it
deserves its name. Six noble columns are still standing. We strolled
about for a long time, took some photographs, admired the lovely
panoramic view from the top--over the town of Athens to Eleusis,
Salamis, and Corinth on one side, and from Mount Pentelicus and Mount
Hymettus to the Elysian Fields, till our eyes wandered round by the
ancient harbours of Phalisum and Piraeus; back again by the Street of
Tombs to Athens, looking more dusty and more grey than ever as we gazed
down on its grey-tiled roofs. Even the gardens and palm-trees hardly
relieved it. It was nearly three o'clock before we could tear ourselves
away."
This is very natural and simple, though it is hardly what we should
expect from a cultivated woman after visiting the memorials of Greek art
and history, and the great and beautiful city of the "violet moon." A
greater enthusiasm, a more living sympathy, might surely have been
provoked by the sight of the blue sea where Themistocles repulsed the
navies of Persia, and the glorious hill on whose crest St. Paul spake to
the wondering Athenians, and the monuments of the genius of Praxiteles
and Phidias. Lady Brassey, however, is not at her best when treating of
the places and things which antiquity has hallowed: it is the aspects of
the life of to-day and the picturesque scenes of savage lands that
arrest her attention most firmly, and are reproduced by her most
vividly. She is more at home in the Hawaiian market than among the
ruined temples of Athens.
The reader may not be displeased to take a glance at Nikosia, the chief
town of Cyprus--of that famous island which calls up such stirring
memories of the old chivalrous days when Richard I. and his Crusaders
landed here, and the lion-hearted king became enamoured of Berengaria,
the daughter of the Cypriot prince.
"The town is disappointing inside," she says, "although there are some
fine buildings still left. The old cathedral of St. Sophia, now used as
a mosque, is superb in the richness of its design and tracery, and the
purity of its Gothic architecture. Opposite the cathedral is the Church
of St. Nicholas, now used as a granary. The three Gothic portals are
among the finest I have ever seen. Every house in Nikosia possesses a
luxuriant garden, and the bazaars are festooned with vines; but the
whole place wears, notwithstanding, an air of desolation, ruin, and
dirt. Government House is one of the last of the old Turkish residences.
"From the Turkish prison we passed through a narrow dirty street, with
ruined houses and wasted gardens on either side, out into the open
country again, when a sharp canter over the plain and through a small
village brought us to the place where the new Government House is in
course of erection. This spot is called Snake Hill, from two snakes
having once been discovered and killed here, a fact which shows how idle
are the rumours of the prevalence of poisonous reptiles in the island.
It is a rare thing to meet with them, and I have seen one or two
collectors who had abandoned in despair the idea of doing so. The site
selected for Government House is a commanding one, looking over river,
plain, town, mountain, and what were once forests....
"Leaving the walls of the city behind, we crossed a sandy, stony plain.
For about two hours we saw no signs of fertility; but we then began to
pass through vineyards, cotton-fields, and pomegranates, olive and
orange tree plantations, till we reached the house of a rich Armenian,
whose brother is one of the interpreters at the camp. His wife and
daughters came out to receive us, and conducted us along a passage full
of girls picking cotton, and through two floors stored with sesame,
grain of various kinds, cotton, melons, gourds, &c., to a suite of
spacious rooms on the upper floor, opening into one another, with
windows looking over a valley. Oh! the delight of reposing on a Turkish
divan, in a cut stone-built house, after that long ride in the burning
heat! Truly, the sun of Cyprus is as a raging lion, even in this month
of November. What, then, must it be in the height of summer! The
officers all agree in saying that they have never felt anything like it,
even in the hottest parts of India or the tropics....
"After that we mounted fresh mules, and rode up the valley, by the
running water, to the point where it gushes from the hill, or rather
mountain, side--a clear stream of considerable power. It rises suddenly
from the limestone rock at the foot of Pentadactylon, nearly 3,000 feet
high, in the northern range of mountains. No one knows whence it
springs; but from the earliest times it has been celebrated, and some
writers have asserted that it comes all the way, under the sea, from the
mountains of Keramania, in Asia Minor. The effect produced is magical,
trees and crops of all kinds flourishing luxuriantly under its
fertilizing influence. The village of Kythraea itself nestles in
fruit-trees and flowering shrubs, and every wall is covered with
maiden-hair fern, the fronds of which are frequently four and five feet
long. The current of the stream is used to turn many mills, some of the
most primitive character, but all doing their work well, though the
strong water-power is capable of much fuller development....
"It was nearly dark when we started to return; and it was with many a
stumble, but never a tumble, that we galloped across the stony plain,
and reached the camp about seven p.m. Here we found a silk merchant from
Nikosia waiting to see us, with a collection of the soft silks of the
country, celebrated since the days of Boccaccio. They look rather like
poplin, but are really made entirely of silk, three-quarters of a yard
in width, and costing about three shillings a yard, the piece being
actually reckoned in piastres for price and pies for measurement. The
prettiest, I think, are those which are undyed and retain the natural
colour of the cocoon, from creamy-white to the darkest gold. Some prefer
a sort of slaty grey, of which a great quantity is made, but I think it
is very ugly."
In this easy, gossiping manner Lady Brassey ambles on, not telling one
anything that is particularly new, but recording what really met her eye
in the most unpretending fashion. As a writer she scarcely calls for
criticism: she writes with fluency and accuracy, but never warms up into
eloquence, and her reflections are not less commonplace than her style.
As a traveller she deserves the distinction and popularity she has
attained. It would seem that in her various cruises she has accomplished
some 12,000 miles--in itself no inconsiderable feat for an English lady;
but the feat becomes all the more noteworthy when we find that, instead
of being, as we would naturally suppose, "at home on the sea," and
wholly untouched by the suffering it inflicts on so many, she has always
been a victim. Entering the harbour of Valetta on her homeward voyage,
she writes:--"I think that at last the battle of eighteen years is
accomplished, and that the bad weather we have so continually
experienced since we left Constantinople, comprising five gales in
eleven days, has ended by making me a good sailor. For the last two days
I have really known what it is to feel absolutely well at sea, even when
it is very rough, and have been able to eat my meals in comfort, and
even to read and write, without feeling that my head belonged to
somebody else."[37]
FOOTNOTES:
[28] Lady Brassey: "A Voyage in the _Sunbeam_," pp. 46, 47.
[29] Lady Brassey: "A Voyage in the _Sunbeam_," p. 90.
[30] Lady Brassey: "A Voyage in the _Sunbeam_," pp. 110, 122.
[31] Lady Brassey: "A Voyage in the _Sunbeam_," pp. 129, 130.
[32] Lady Brassey: "A Voyage in the _Sunbeam_," pp. 227, 228.
[33] Lady Brassey: "Voyage of the _Sunbeam_," pp. 256-262.
[34] Lady Brassey: "A Voyage in the _Sunbeam_," pp. 268-272.
[35] Lady Brassey: "A Voyage in the _Sunbeam_," pp. 309-312. With this
Japanese bill of fare we may contrast a Chinese bill of fare which Lady
Brassey preserves:--
_Four courses of small bowls_, one to each guest, viz.--Bird's-nest
Soup, Pigeon's Eggs, Ice Fungus (said to grow on ice), Shark's Fins
(chopped).
_Eight large bowls_, viz.--Stewed Shark's Fins, Fine Shell Fish,
Mandarin Bird's Nest, Canton Fish Maw, Fish Brain, Meat Balls with Rock
Fungus, Pigeons stewed with Wai Shau (a strengthening herb), Stewed
Mushroom.
_Four dishes_, viz.--Sliced Ham, Roast Mutton, Fowls, Roast Sucking Pig.
_One large dish_, viz.--Boiled Rock Fish.
_Eight small bowls_, viz.--Stewed Pig's Palate, Minced Quails, Stewed
Fungus, Sinews of the Whale Fish, Rolled Roast Fowl, Sliced Seals,
Stewed Duck's Paws, Peas Stewed.
[36] Lady Brassey: "Sunshine and Storm in the East," pp. 41-44.
[37] Lady Brassey: "Sunshine and Storm in the East," p. 431.
LADY MORGAN AND OTHERS.
Among literary travellers a place must be assigned to Lady Morgan (born
1777), the novelist, who in her books of travel exhibits most of the
qualities which lend a characteristic zest to her fictions. She and her
husband, Sir Charles Morgan, visited France in 1815, and compounded a
book upon it, which, as France had been for so many years shut against
English tourists, produced a considerable sensation, and was eagerly
read. Its sketches are very bright and amusing, and its _naive_ egotism
was pardonable, considering the flatteries which Parisian society had
heaped upon its author. Its liberal opinions, which the Conservatives of
to-day would pronounce milk-and-water, fluttered the dove-cotes of
Toryism under the _regime_ of Lord Liverpool, and provoked Wilson
Croker, the "Rigby" of Lord Beaconsfield's "Coningsby," to fall upon it
tooth and nail. Lady Morgan revenged herself by putting her scurrilous
_attache_ into her next novel, "Florence Macarthy," where he figures as
_Crawley_. In 1819 the book-making couple repaired to Italy, and, of
course, a sojourn in Italy meant a book upon Italy, which Lord Byron
declared to be very faithful. It is said to have produced a greater
impression than even the book upon France; and as a tolerably accurate
representation of the moral and political condition of Italy at the
period of the Bourbon restoration, it has still some value.