glowing than those of her predecessors, from Wallis and Bougainville
down to "the Earl and the Doctor." They are full of warm, rich colour,
as might have been expected from one who is an artist as well as an
author, and set before us such a succession of vivid and enchanting
landscapes as hardly any other portion of this wide, wide world can
parallel; for with the bold majesty of Alpine peaks is combined the
luxuriant grace of tropical forests, and valleys as beautiful as that of
Tempe open out upon a boundless ocean as blue as the sky it glasses. Add
to this that the vegetation has a charm of its own--the feathery palm
and the bread-fruit tree lending to it a quite distinctive character.
Here is a vignette, which will give the reader some notion of this
enchanting Tahitian scenery:--"We rode along the green glades, through
the usual successions of glorious foliage; groves of magnificent
bread-fruit trees, indigenous to those isles; next a clump of noble
mango-trees, recently imported, but now quite at home; then a group of
tall palms, or a long avenue of gigantic bananas, their leaves sometimes
twelve feet long, meeting over our heads. Then came patches of sugar or
Indian corn, and next a plantation of vanilla, trained to climb over
closely-planted tall coffee, or else over vermilion bushes. Sometimes it
is planted without more ado at the root of pruned guava bushes. These
grow wild over the whole country, loaded with large, excellent fruit,
and, moreover, supply the whole fuel of the isles, and good food for
cattle.... Amidst all this wealth of food-producing vegetation, I
sometimes looked in vain for any trees that were merely ornamental; and
literally there were only the yellow hibiscus, which yields a useful
fibre, and the candle-nut, covered with clusters of white blossoms,
somewhat resembling white lilac, and bearing nuts with oily kernels,
whence the tree derives its name."[45]
Here is a larger picture, taken on one of the smaller islands of the
Society archipelago:--
"I fear no description can possibly convey to your mind a true picture
of the lovely woods through which we wander just where fancy leads us,
knowing that no hurtful creature of any sort lurks among the mossy rocks
or in the rich undergrowth of ferns. Here and there we come on patches
of soft green turf, delightfully suggestive of rest, beneath the broad
shadow of some great tree with buttressed roots; but more often the
broken rays of sunlight gleam in ten thousand reflected lights, dancing
and glancing as they shimmer on glossy leaves of every form and
shade--from the huge silky leaves of the wild plantain or the giant arum
to the waving palm-fronds, which are so rarely at rest, but flash and
gleam like polished swords as they bend and twist with every breath of
air.
"It has just occurred to me that probably you have no very distinct idea
of the shape of a cocoa-palm leaf, which does not bear the slightest
resemblance to the palmettes in the greenhouses. It consists of a strong
mid-rib about eight feet long, which, at the end next to the tree,
spreads out very much as your two clenched fists, placed side by side,
do from your wrists. The other end tapers to a point. For a space of
about two feet the stalk is bare; then along the remaining six feet a
regiment of short swords, graduated from two feet to eighteen inches in
length, are set close together on each side of the mid-rib. Of course,
the faintest stir of the leaf causes these multitudinous swordlets to
flash in the sunlight. Hence the continual effect of glittering light.
"A little lower than these tall queens of the coral-isles rise
fairy-like canopies of graceful tree-ferns, often festooned with most
delicate lianas; and there are places where not these only, but the
larger trees, are literally matted together by the dense growth of the
beautiful large-leaved white convolvulus, or the smaller lilac ipomaae,
which twines round the tall stems of the palms, and overspreads the
light fronds like some green waterfall. Many of the larger trees are
clothed with parasitic ferns; huge bird's-nest ferns grow in the forks
of the branches, as do various orchids, the dainty children of the mist,
so that the stems are well-nigh as green as everything else in that
wilderness of lovely forms. It is a very inanimate paradise, however. I
rarely see any birds or butterflies, only a few lizards and an
occasional dragon-fly; and the voice of singing-birds, such as gladden
our hearts in humble English woods, is here mute; so we have at least
this compensation for the lack of all the wild luxuriance which here is
so fascinating."
From Miss Cumming's animated pages we might continue to borrow with
advantage to our readers. But we must rest satisfied with one more
picture, and this shall be a view of the Tahitian market-place at
Papeete:--
"Passing by roads which are called streets, but are rather shady bowers
of yellow hibiscus and bread-fruit trees, I entered the covered
market-place, where was assembled as gay a throng as you could wish to
see, many of them dressed in flowing robes of the very brightest
colours; for the people here assembled are chiefly _le peuple_, whose
days of ceremonial mourning for their good old queen are drawing to a
close; so the long tresses of glossy black hair, hitherto so carefully
hidden within their jaunty little sailor-hats, are now again suffered
to hang at full length in two silky plaits, and hair and hats are
wreathed with bright fragrant flowers of double Cape jessamine, orange
blossom, scarlet hibiscus, or oleander. Many wear a delicate white
jessamine star in the ear in place of an ear-ring. The people here are
not so winsome as those in remoter districts. Too much contact with
shipping and grog-shops has, of course, gone far to deteriorate them,
and take off the freshness of life; but a South Sea crowd is always made
up of groups pleasant to the eye; and a party of girls dressed in long
graceful sacques of pale sea-green, or delicate pink, pure white, or
bright crimson, chatting and laughing as they roll up minute fragments
of tobacco in strips of pandameo or banana to supply the inevitable
cigarette, is always attractive.
"The men all wear _pavus_ of Manchester cotton stuff, prepared expressly
for these isles, and of the most wonderful patterns. Those most in
favour are bright crimson, with a large white pattern, perhaps groups of
red crowns on circles of white, arranged on a scarlet ground, or else
rows of white crowns alternating with groups of stars. A dark blue
ground with circles and crosses in bright yellow, or scarlet with yellow
anchors and circles, also find great favour; and though they certainly
sound 'loud' when thus described, they are singularly effective. It is
wonderful what a variety of patterns can be produced, not one of which
has ever been seen in England. With these, the men wear white shirts
and sailors' hats, with bright-coloured silk handkerchiefs tied over
them and knotted on the ear; or else a gay garland....
"Every one brings to the morning market whatever he happens to have for
sale. Some days he has a large stock-in-trade, sometimes next to
nothing. But, be it little or be it much, he divides it into two lots,
and slings his parcels or baskets from a light bamboo pole which rests
across his shoulder, and, light as it is, often weighs more than the
trifles suspended from it; perhaps a few shrimps in a green leaf are
slung from one end, and a lobster from the other, or, it may be, a tiny
basket of new-laid eggs balanced by half a dozen silvery fishes.
"But often the burden is so heavy that the pole bends with the
weight--of perhaps two huge bunches of mountain bananas, and you think
how that poor fellow's shoulder must have ached as he carried his spoil
down the steep mountain path from the cleft in the rugged rock where the
_faces_ had contrived to take root. These resemble bunches of gigantic
golden plums. As a bit of colour they are glorious, but as a vegetable I
cannot learn to like them, which is perhaps as well, as the native
proverb says that the foreigner who does appreciate _faces_ can never
stay away from Tahiti.
"As you enter the cool, shady market, you see hundreds of those golden
clusters hanging from ropes stretched across the building, and great
bunches of mangoes and oranges. These last lie heaped in baskets among
cool green leaves. Sometimes a whole laden bough has been recklessly cut
off. Pine-apples, bread-fruit, cocoa-nut, all are there, and baskets of
scarlet tomatoes, suggestive of cool salads."[46]
* * * * *
We must pass over with a word of allusion Mrs. Macquoid's entertaining
records of her tours in Normandy and Brittany, and the Ardennes, where
she found the scenery which gives so much picturesqueness of character
to some of her best fictions. Nor can we undertake to dwell on Mrs.
Mulhall's "Between the Amazon and the Andes," though it deals with a
region not by any means familiarly known even to geographers, and is
undoubtedly a valuable addition to the literature of South American
travel. Mrs. Minto Elliot has written two pleasant volumes descriptive
of the experiences of "An Idle Woman in Sicily," but they contain
nothing very new or striking. Of higher value is Lady Duffus Hardy's
"Tour in America," and still higher value Lady Anne Blunt's "Pilgrimage
to Nijd." Mrs. T. F. Hughes embodies much curious and suggestive
information in her account of a "Residence in China." Miss Gertrude
Forde's "Lady's Tour in Corsica" is an interesting supplement to
previous works on that romantic island.
"What We Saw in Australia" is the journal of two sisters, Florence and
Rosamond Hill, who, without servants or escort, accomplished the voyage
to the great island-continent; visited Adelaide, Melbourne, and Sydney,
with all the remarkable places in the vicinity of each; made a trip to
Tasmania, and returned home by way of Bombay, Egypt, and Italy. "We
encountered," they say, "no gales of any severity, have to record no
alarming adventures, and returned to England after sixteen months'
absence, convinced by experience that to persons of average health and
strength the difficulties of such a journey exist only in the
imagination. It may, we feel sure, be accomplished with ease and comfort
by ladies unprovided with servants or escort." The sisters were
insatiable in the pursuit of information, and their book affords a
tolerably comprehensive view of the economic and social conditions of
the Australian colonies. Thus, we are told that "the number of
post-offices throughout South Australia is 348, employing 336 officials,
besides fifty-six others, who are also engaged in telegraph work. Mails
are despatched by every steamer to Melbourne, and three times weekly
overland, the latter journey occupying ninety-six hours. Mail-omnibuses
convey the country letters where the roads are good, which is the case
for many miles out of town in numerous directions. For more distant
places coaches are used, much resembling a box hung high upon four
wheels; all the parts are very strong, and leathern curtains over the
windows largely take the place of glass, the presence of which is
undesirable in a break-down or roll over. The interior is provided with
straps to be clung to by the unhappy passengers as the vehicle pursues
its bumping way." Orphan schools, institutes, reformatories, cabs,
museums, hospitals, prisons--all attracted the attention of the two
travellers, who are much to be commended for their scrupulous attention
to accuracy. But they did not neglect the various aspects of Australian
scenery, so far as they came within their purview. They did not
penetrate into the interior, and their range was not very wide or novel,
but what they saw they describe with characteristic and pains-taking
fidelity. Here is their description of Govat's Leap, a remarkable
valley, one of the lions of New South Wales, about five miles from Mount
Victoria:--
"We followed for a considerable distance the high road to Bathurst cut
through the bush. The mass of gum-trees on either side looked beautiful
in their fresh summer foliage. The young shoots are crimson, and when
seen against the blue sky, the sunshine gleaming through them, the tree
seems covered with gorgeous blossom. Leaving the road, we turned into
the scrub, and drove over a sandy soil among small gum-trees and smaller
scrub. When at length we quitted the carriage and had followed our guide
for a short distance, we suddenly came upon what appeared to be an
enormous rift in the ground, which yawned beneath our feet. Far below
was an undulating mass of foliage--the tops of a forest of gum-trees,
which covered the whole bed of the valley. Vast was the height from
which we looked down, so that the trees had the appearance of perfect
stillness, forming in the glorious sunshine a lovely crimson-tinted
carpet, the shadows cast upon them by the clouds giving continual
variety to the colouring. At the upper end of the valley, towards the
west, the cliffs on either side were somewhat depressed. Here a
streamlet fell over the rocks, a sheer descent of 1,200 feet, but so
gentle its fall appeared, as we watched it obliquely across the valley,
that the water looked like marabout feathers softly floating downwards.
Towards the bottom it vanished from our sight among large stones, and if
in that dry season the stream made further progress, its course was
hidden by the forest at its feet. Turning towards the south, the brown,
grey, and yellow rocks rose perpendicularly, the sunshine softening them
into a delicious harmony of colour; and so great was the width of the
valley, that a waterfall on the opposite cliff looked, from where we
stood, like a silver thread against its side. Beyond, the valley bore
away in a southerly direction until it was closed in by ranges of
overlapping hills of lovely blue--indigo or cobalt--as the blaze of the
sun or the shadow of the clouds fell upon them. But for the faint murmur
caused either by the falling of the water or the wind among the trees,
the place was silent, and it was almost devoid of animal life. A bird or
two overhead, and the noiseless lizards who ran over our dresses as we
attempted to sketch the scene, represented the whole animal life within
sight or hearing."[47]
Lady Barker is a practised writer, and a good deal of literary skill is
shown in her books of travel, "Station Life in New Zealand" and "A
Year's Housekeeping in South Africa." Pleasanter reading one could
hardly wish for; the sketches are vivid, and the observations judicious;
the style is fluent, and flavoured by a genial and unobtrusive humour.
Lady Barker looks at things, of course, with a woman's eye, and this
womanliness is one of the charms of her books. She sees so much that no
man would ever have seen, and sees it all in a light so different from
that in which men would have seen it. To our knowledge of South Africa,
Lady Barker has unquestionably made a very real and interesting
contribution. She and her husband, who had been appointed to an official
position of importance in Natal, arrived at Cape Town in October, 1875,
and, after a brief rest, steamed along the coast to the little port of
East London. Thence they proceeded to Port Durban, where they
disembarked, and, in waggons drawn by mules, jolted over the fifty-two
miles that lie between Port Durban and their place of destination,
Maritzburg. During her residence there she made good use of her time and
opportunities, studying the native ways and usages, sketching Zulus and
Kaffirs, interviewing witches and witch-finders, exploring the scenery
of the interior, and accomplishing an expedition into the Bush, the
result being a book of some 320 pages, in which not one is dull or
unreadable. Of her lightness and firmness of touch we can give but one
specimen, a sketch of a Kaffir bride:--
"She was exceedingly smart, and had one of the prettiest faces
imaginable. The regular features, oval face, dazzling teeth, and
charming expression, were not a bit disfigured by her jet-black skin.
Her hair was drawn straight up from her head like a tiara, stained red,
and ornamented with a profusion of bone skewers, a tuft of feathers
being stuck coquettishly over one ear, and a band of bead embroidery,
studded with brass-headed nails, worn like a fillet where the hair grew
low on the forehead. She had a kilt, or series of aprons rather, of lynx
skins, a sort of bodice of calf-skin, and over her shoulders, arranged
with ineffable grace, a gay table-cover. Then there were strings of
beads on her pretty, shapely throat and arms, and a bright scarlet
ribbon tied tightly round each ankle. All the rest of the party seemed
immensely proud of this young person, and were very anxious to put her
forward in every way. Indeed, all the other women, mostly hard-working,
hard-featured matrons, prematurely aged, took no more part in the visit
than the chorus of a Greek play, always excepting the old luduna, or
headman of the village, who came as escort, and in charge of the whole
party. This was a most garrulous and amusing individual, full of
reminiscences and anecdotes of his fighting days. He was rather more
frank than most warriors, who 'shoulder their crutch, and show how
fields are won;' for the usual end of his battle stories was the naive
confession, 'and then I thought I should be killed, and so I ran away.'
He and I used up a great many interpreters in the course of the visit;
for he wearied every one out, and nothing made him so angry as any
attempt to condense his conversation in translating it to me. But he was
great fun; polite as became an old soldier, full of compliments and
assurances that 'now the happiest day of his life having come, he
desired to live no longer, but was ready for death.' The visit took
place on the shady side of the verandah, and thither I brought a large
musical box and set it down on the ground to play. Never was there such
a success. In a moment they were all down on their knees before it
listening with rapt delight, the old man telling them the music was
caused by very little people inside the box, who were obliged to do
exactly as I bade them. They were in a perfect ecstasy of delight for
ever so long, retreating rapidly, however, to a distance whenever I
wound it up. The old luduna took snuff copiously all the time, and made
me affectionate speeches, which resulted in the gift of an old great
coat, which he assured me he never would live to wear out, because he
was quite in a hurry to die and go to the white man's land now that he
had seen me."[48]
* * * * *
Of all the European countries, Hungary, we think, is the one least
represented in our English literature of travel, though to Englishmen it
might seem to have peculiar attractions, in virtue of its romantic
scenery, its historical associations, and the brave, independent, and
vigorous character of its inhabitants. "Its history is that of Greece,"
says a German writer; "the same heroism lives within its borders, the
names of its heroes alone have changed." We turn, therefore, with
interest, while writing these last pages, to "Magyarland," a lady's
"Narrative of Travels through the Highlands and Lowlands of Hungary."
She entered Hungary on the side of its majestic Aljoela, or plains, which
extend over an area of 5,400 square miles, and in some places are
inhospitable sandy wastes; in some, highly cultivated; in others, green
and flowery pastures, where large herds of horses and cattle roam
unfettered. These plains are inhabited by various races--the Magyars,
who are the dominant people; the Wallachs, who dwell in the easternmost
districts; the Germans, Saxons, and Shecklers. South-west of the
Carpathians live the Slovaks; in Croatia and Servia the Croat Serbs; and
in the provinces south-east of the Carpathians are the Rusniaks or
Ruthenians. About these races, and their manners and customs--about
Buda-Pesth and Semlin, and the ice-caves of the snowy Tabree, and the
wines of Tokay, and the scenery of Romania, our authoress has much to
say with equal liveliness and grace.
FOOTNOTES:
[41] Bird: "A Lady's Life in the Rocky Mountains," pp. 89, 90.
[42] Isabella Bird: "A Lady's Life in the Rocky Mountains," pp. 108,
109.
[43] I. L. Bird: "A Lady's Life in the Rocky Mountains," pp. 194-196.
[44] Lady Florence Dixie: "Across Patagonia," pp. 26-28.
[45] C. F. Gordon Cumming: "A Lady's Cruise in a French Man-of-war," ii.
38, 39.
[46] C. F. Gordon Cumming: "A Lady's Cruise in a French Man-of-War," ii.
177-181.
[47] F. and R. Hill: "What We Saw in Australia," pp. 321, 322.
[48] Lady Barker: "A Year's Housekeeping in South Africa," pp. 312-314.