Transcriber’s Notes
Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations
in hyphenation have been standardised but all other spelling and
punctuation remains unchanged.
Italics are represented thus _italic_, bold thus =bold= and underline
thus +under+.
[Illustration: _LITH. OF SARONY & Co. NEW YORK._
JAPANESE.]
+THE JAPAN EXPEDITION+
JAPAN
AND
AROUND THE WORLD
AN ACCOUNT OF
THREE VISITS TO THE JAPANESE EMPIRE
WITH SKETCHES OF
MADEIRA, ST. HELENA, CAPE OF GOOD HOPE, MAURITIUS,
CEYLON, SINGAPORE, CHINA, AND LOO-CHOO
BY J. W. SPALDING
OF THE U. S. STEAM-FRIGATE MISSISSIPPI, FLAG SHIP OF THE EXPEDITION
WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS IN TINT
[Illustration: publishers device]
REDFIELD
34 BEEKMAN STREET, NEW YORK
1855.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855,
BY J. S. REDFIELD,
in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States,
in and for the Southern District of New York.
SAVAGE & McCREA, STEREOTYPERS,
13 Chambers Street, N. Y.
PREFACE.
The kindness and courtesy of that fine officer and estimable gentleman,
Commander Sydney Smith Lee, in conferring upon the writer a position
on the ship under his command, gave him the opportunity of seeing the
“wonders of the world abroad,” in the Japan Expedition.
The following pages do not profess to be a history of Japan, of which
there are already a number extant, but only embody observations of
what came under notice, in a cruise of nearly two and a half years.
They do not pretend to invariable accuracy, the writer having kept no
journal, and having had to depend on scattered memoranda, jottings down
to friends, and to memory. He has endeavored to tell the tale of his
travels, as his eyes told it to him.
He has indulged in no adjectives about the ocean, because he believes
that there has been more deliberate nonsense written upon it, than upon
any other thing in all Nature.
RICHMOND, VA., 1855.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Leave the United States—“Old Ironsides” Mississippi—A
Man-of-War at Night—Gulf Stream—Music—First Foreign Land—The
Washerwomen—Funchal—Its Harbor—Cavalleros—The Wine—A
Consul—_Nossa Senhora do Monte_—The Coral—A Hospital—A
Prison—Dago Pauperism—Donna Clementina—Good-by, Madeira PAGE 8
CHAPTER II.
At Sea again—The Canaries—The “Trades,” Incipient and
Real—Man-of-War Existence—Drills—Running down the
“Trades”—Small-Pox—Christmas that was not Christmas—First
General Order issued—Under Steam again—Man Overboard—Crossing
the Line—Arrival at the Ocean-Prison—St. Helena—Hot
January—Reverberation—Slavers—James’ Town—A View from a
Summit—Tomb of the Great Emperor—Jonathan—To Longwood—The New
House—Plantation House—A Bust of Napoleon—Departure from St. Helena
27
CHAPTER III.
Cape of Good Hope—Shadows—Cape Town—Sights in the Street—Drive
to Constantia—The Wine—Kaffir War—Botanical—Leave Cape Town—The
Birkenhead—Cattle at Sea—Anti-Scorbutic—St. Valentine’s Day, and
the “Styx”—The Indian Ocean 45
CHAPTER IV.
Isle of France—John Bull under a Torrid Sun—Port Louis and
its Bazar—Different Races and Religions—In the Country at
Mauritius—John Chinaman—Pamplemouses—Paul and Virginia—A Botanical
Garden—Reality as well as Romance—Hurricanes—History of the
Island—The “22d”—Fruits—Leave Mauritius—Difference of Time 56
CHAPTER V.
“Light, Ho!”—Ceylon’s Spicy Breezes, and Sir John Mandeville—Point
de Galle—Ceylonese Troops—d’honies—The Natives—Walled
Town—Sandal Shoon and Mohammedan Temple and School—Greek Slaves
in Bronze—Hirsute and Citronella—Priessnitz’ Doings—Pigeon
Express—Ceylon Historically—A Siamese Captain—Departure from
Point de Galle—Bay of Bengal—Straits of Malacca—Pulo-Penang—The
Cleopatra—Letters—Anchor at Singapore—Malay Boats—The East
by Anticipation—Junks—Gong-Beating—The Esplanade—Malay
Houses—Sago—Hospitals—Joss-House—Prison—Rajah of Johore—Leave
Singapore—First of April—Intense Heat—Cathay—Macao-Hong
Kong—Salute of Welcome—Oriental Salute 64
CHAPTER VI.
Macao—The _Donna Maria_—Cathedrals and Forts—Camoens—An English
Missionary—Death of the Governor—Fast and Tanka Boats—Bocca
Tigris—Clipper-Ships and Junks—Chartering a Tender—First of
May—The Yang-tse-kiang—Agriculture and the Chinese—Shanghai and the
Bund—The Missionaries—Sing-Song—Gambling—Dead Beggars—Nautical
Dramatics—The Shanghae Races—Shifting the Flag—Supply Ashore—Wreck
of a Junk—Bring the Crew of the Junk Aboard—Left for Loo-Choo 87
CHAPTER VII.
Great Loo-Choo Island—General Orders—Outer Door
of the Hermetic Empire—Historic Outline of the
Loo-Choo Islands—Approach to them—Loo-Chooan
Simplicity—Dress—Bettelheim—Napa—Language—Foreign
Graves—Horse-Portage—The Prince Regent—To
Sheudi—Feast—International Sentiment—Sheudi-Cyclopean Masonry—“Old
Napa”—Bonin Group—Return to Napa—First Visit to Japan—“_The_
Fourth” on the Sea—A Meteor 100
CHAPTER VIII.
Cipango—Japan an “Unknown Land”—Works on Japan-Kœmpfer—Japanese
Mythology—Geography—History—Japanese “John Doe”—Napoleon No. III.
of the Mongols—Kublai-Khan—European Intercourse—English Views about
the Opening of Japan 132
CHAPTER IX.
Sounding-Spars—_Foogee Yama_—Entrance to the Bay
of Yedo—Precautionary Measures—Uraga—Troops—“Old
Hundred”—Sounding—Yezimon—Gorihama—_The_
Landing—Joust or Tourney—Audience—President’s
Letter—Anecdotal—Fortifications—Sounding—Japanese
Presents—Costume—Junks—Leave Japan—A Burial at Sea—A
Cyclone—Loo-Choo 143
CHAPTER X.
China—The Rebellion—Hong Hospitality—Blenheim
Reach—Torrid—Consular Courts—Canton—Feast of the
Lanterns—Howqua’s Garden—Sallie Baboos—Cum-sing-Moon—Death
of an Officer—Opium Hulks—The Traffic—Effects of Opium—Its
Sale—Smuggling—Emperor of Japan Dead—Loss of Boat’s Crew of
the Plymouth—The American Commissioner—Around the Walls of
Canton—Chance for a Wife—Temple of Honan—Hong Kong 176
CHAPTER XI.
Leave China for Second Visit to Japan—Formosa—Napa-Keang—A
Refugee not a Koszta—Proselyting—Dr. Bettelheim and a Loo-Chooan
Sangrado—Coal Dépôt—Sheudi—Cumshaws—Off for the Bay of
Yedo—Dangerous Navigation—Snow—Macedonian Ashore Foogee
Yama—Bay of Yedo—Where to Negotiate—22d of February—Japanese
Boats—Visiters—Japanese at Dinner—Swords—Aversion to the
Cross—The Landing—The Commissioners—The Audience—Answer
to the President’s Letter—A Japanese Repast—Their
Troops—“T’su-bi-ki”—Coal—A Christian Burial in
Japan—American Presents—An Ericsson Two Centuries Ago—A
Chaplain—Negotiations—Japanese Presents—Athletes—Entertainment of
Japanese Commissioners—Signing of the Treaty—Yezimon—Attempt to
reach Yedo—The “Happy Despatch”—Emperor in Disguise—Leave Bay of
Yedo for Simoda 204
CHAPTER XII.
Simoda or Lower Field—Surveying—Japanese
Spies—Temples—Sintooism—Another Pilgrim’s Progress—A Night’s
Lodging—Bargaining—Japanese Women—Indiscriminate Bathing—Turtle
Soup—An Adventure—Buddhist Temple—Midnight Visiters—In a
Cage—Japanese Epistolarians—A Great Secret—Defences—Foogee Yama
264
CHAPTER XIII.
Departure for Hakodadi—Ohosima—Printing at Sea—Straits
of Sangar—Arrive at Hakodadi—Magnificent Bay—The City—A
Stampede—Interview with the Authorities—Arranging the
Currency—Purchasing—A Large Temple—Bonzes—Worshipping—Order
of the Blind—A View from Hakodadi Yama—A Lion Playing
Painter—Ni! Ni!—A Fort—Burials from the Vandalia—Japanese
and Ethiopics—Arrival of Functionaries—Characteristic
Communications—Hakodadi Eggs—Leave Hakodadi—Fog 292
CHAPTER XIV.
Foogee—Return to Simoda—Additional Regulations—Veneration for
Iyeyas—The Dutch at Desima—Japanese Princes and Mercantile
Pursuits—Russia a Bugbear—The Currency Question—The Monetary
System of Japan—Buoys—Sample of Coal—Stones for the Washington
Monument—Taste for Music—Things by Lottery—Japanese Lacquer and
Porcelain—Tea—Japanese Game of Chess, or “Sho-ho-ye”—A Second
Robinson Crusoe—Leave Japan for China—Macedonian to Keelong
and Manilla—Island of Oo—A Strange sail acting strangely—In
Napa Roadstead—Man Deservedly killed—His Highness the
Prince-Regent—Russian Admiral Pontiatine—Sermons on Shipboard—The
Status of Loo-Choo—Compact with Loo-Choo—Boom-a-Laddying with a
Broad Pennant—Great Pomp in our Institutions—Farewell to Loo-Choo
312
CHAPTER XV.
Hong Kong Again—Letters—The Intestine Troubles—Triangulating
between Hong-Kong, Macao, and Whampoa—The Rebels—Chinese
Fighting—An Emperor’s Proclamation—Preparations for the
Departure of the American Opperbevelhebber—Daybook and Ledger
Epistolarians—A Title—Protection—A Jollyboat Steamer—Erudition
about Columbus, De Gama, and Others—A Letter from His Excellency
Perry—Syce Silver Service—More Mercantile Epistolarians and
Parvenuism—No Treaty of Commerce with Japan—Name Great among
the Heathen—Departure of Opperbevelhebber in the English
Mail-Steamer—Mississippi’s Third Visit to Japan—The Last of the
“Porpoise”—Arrive at Simoda again—Official Intercourse of Captain
Lee with the Authorities—Courtesies—Its-evoos and a Revolver—The
Ship Ho-o-maro—Cotton Cloths distributed—Chances of a Trade with
Japan—Final Departure from the Country—Supplemental—Exchange of
Ratifications of the Treaty—Simoda after an Earthquake—Loss of the
Russian Frigate Diana—The Inexorable Laws of Japan—English and
French at Nangasaki—The Cruise of the Mississippi around the World
345
APPENDIX 363
THE
JAPAN EXPEDITION.
CHAPTER I.
The cruel treatment which had long been practised by that singular
and secluded people, the Japanese, toward American whalers who were
thrown by the misfortune of shipwreck upon their coasts, the incentive
of mercantile cupidity, and the urgency of personal ambition, induced
the government of the United States, in 1852, to project an expedition
to Japan, to obtain some assurance from the government of the country
against a continuance or repetition of the inhospitality and cruelty
inflicted upon our unfortunate citizens, and, if possible, to open the
sources of trade. The East India squadron was accordingly augmented for
this purpose, and Commodore Matthew Calbraith Perry was invested with
the command, and charged with the performance of the duty.
After almost conjugating delay in all its moods and tenses, induced by
the failure of the boilers of the unfortunate “Princeton,” and other
causes, his flag-ship was ready for sea in November, 1852; and on
the 24th of this month and year, with a desire to visit the hermetic
empire, whetted by reading the Dutch historians, I found myself, as
commander’s clerk, on board of her. At mid-day we had dropped, not
below the “kirk or hill,” but below the hospital at Norfolk, and night
found us ploughing deeply the ocean in the direction of Madeira; and
before a very late hour the gleams from the Cape Henry lighthouse
disappeared altogether.
The ship was the old steam-frigate “Mississippi,” which, as her name
is a synonyme for the “father of waters,” may be termed the father of
our war-steamers, having been the consort of the pioneer ship, the
Missouri, destroyed by fire on her first cruise, under the rock of
Gibraltar. She had been engaged unremittingly since she first slid from
her ways. The power of her engines had pulled from a reef in the Gulf a
large ship, and saved to the country the fine frigate Cumberland. The
shot and shell from one of her sixty-eights, in the naval battery at
Vera Cruz, had contributed to the downfall of the castle of San Juan.
She had lain at her anchor near the site of once classic Athens, and
in full view of what now remains of the once great city of Hannibal.
She had once sought shelter from a Levanter near Brundusium that was,
with its Appian way. Her paddle-wheels churning up the water of the
Black sea, announced the first appearance of an American man-of-war in
that stormy water; and on her decks, surrounded by his late fellows in
exile, Kossuth, fresh from the damp of his Kutahia prison, addressed
the seething populace around in the harbor of Marseilles, with a fervor
and eloquence which almost extenuated so indefensible a violation of
the national hospitality which our nation was then extending him; and
now the old Mississippi was leaving her own country, bound to the other
side of the great globe, bearing the hopes of many, and embarked in a
mission which might be successful—which might, perhaps, come to naught.
I said she ploughed deeply on getting beyond the Capes, because, with
the considerate intelligence and humanity which preside over our naval
affairs, sending boxes of guns to sea with national names, bringing
about such sad losses as those of the Albany and the Porpoise, the
Mississippi, designed by her constructor to draw eighteen feet of
water, and to carry four hundred and fifty tons of coal, has her
bunkers enlarged to the capacity of six hundred tons, additional lines
of copper put upon her, and goes out drawing twenty-one feet, her
guards but a short distance from the water. In this state we left the
United States; her decks not yet cleared of the stores hastily put
aboard for the different messes; the lengthened visages of sad people
all around, thinking whether they had omitted anything in their notes
of last adieu sent back by the Pilot; the mustering and stationing of
a new crew at their division and fire quarters; the making everything
ready for sea, all presented such a novel scene to one who was on a
man-of-war underway for the first time, that he was too much engrossed
in observing, to tell his “native land good-night,” turning to do
which, he found that it had “faded,” not over the “waters blue,” but
behind an expanse of dull slate-colored ocean, which the heavy striking
of our deeply-immersed paddles was slowly and drowsily disturbing.
There was none of the graceful undulatory motion, and bellying out of
the great white canvass of the sailing-ship, which writers of much
imagination and nautical turn of mind, delight so much to sing about.
It was only the sturdy prose of a warlike old steamer belching from the
jaws of her great funnel columns of thick black smoke, which separated
at her mainmast, or rolled away in dense masses astern, perversely
holding on her way to the port of her destination. The “loguey” motion
of the ship, while it kept her decks wet from the swashing of a cross
sea over her head rail, at least had the advantage to a landsman of
enabling him to get on his “sea-legs” all the sooner.
The scene at night on a man-of-war, is one full of interest to him who
sees it for the first time. The decks, busily thronged during the day
by the men in the performance of their duties, at an early hour of
the night, with the exception of the watch, are apparently deserted;
a number equal to the population of a small village, crowded close
together, swing in their pendent beds in oblivious sleep, which the
exertions of the day makes more profound, leaving nothing to disturb
the quiet of the vessel, save the half-hour striking of the ship’s
bell, and the quick responses of the different look-outs assuming their
watchfulness, or the drumming of the wheels as they send the yesty
water along the side.
In a few days we crossed that great liquid fortification of our
coast—the Gulf-stream—when the temperature became greatly moderated,
our stoves were taken down, the cloudy skies that we had had
disappeared, and we hailed the sun. The water had changed from 41° to
71°, the sun came up magnificently from the ocean, and the air felt
like a balmy spring morning; away off in the southeast floated piles
of clouds like inverted illuminated pearl-shells, and for the first
time since leaving Norfolk, we were enabled to look upon the _deep_
blue sea, and the blue deep sea. Then, too, our fine band, composed of
twenty-three brass and reed instruments, discoursed its most pleasant
strains for the first time since we had been out, under the leadership
of a talented old Italian musician—the only man I ever saw who, with a
nice “ear for music,” kept both of his auriculars continually stopped
with wool.
The cry of “Land, ho!” on the evening of the 11th of December,
announced our vicinity to Madeira, after a rough and lonely passage
from the United States of eighteen days. The weather proving rough,
we wore ship and stood off during the night, and early in the morning
again stood for the island, and it was not long before we were running
under the lee of its northern side. Madeira at a distance, wrapped
in its hazy robe of blue, presents the appearance of a huge monster
reposing on the water, but running in under the land, the aspect is
far more attractive. Being the first foreign land on which my eyes had
ever rested, I gazed with increasing pleasure on the parti-colored
soil, on the graceful and silvery cascades precipitating themselves
down its steep shores, presenting the appearance of tapering spires
of churches, while nestling here and there on the cliffs, amid thick
verdure, were the happy-looking quintas and farmhouses. Toward evening,
leaving the singular formed rocks “Las Desertas” on our left, we
rounded the northeasternmost point of the island, and Funchal, in
its terraced beauty, came in full view. We fired a gun and hoisted a
jack for a pilot, but we were permitted to approach without the aid
of that functionary. It being Sunday, perhaps they did not officiate
on that day. Just before sundown we came to in the harbor, near the
Pontinha, and immediately on anchoring were boarded by the Portuguese
health-officer, who, finding we had no contagious disease aboard,
granted us _pratique_. The second promptest visiters to welcome us
were the washerwomen, who are all eager for the possession of the
soiled linen, at the same time evincing a wonder of recognition and
recollection perfectly satisfactory to themselves, but not at all
convincing to anybody else. One old shrivelled dame of a laundress
insisted that I had visited the island before, and pretended to adhere
to the opinion with the tenacity of Dolly, in Oliver Twist, when she
called upon the good bystanders to make her brother go home. This
was old Madam Yesus, and, as my poor battered garments subsequently
proved, she washed “not wisely, but too well.” They were eminently
communicative on general topics, told us how “mucher pauvre” they
were, gave us the first news of the approaching famine, and to men who
had been tumbling about the ocean for over half a month, the unsavory
intelligence that wine, which but a short time before could be bought
for forty cents per bottle, could now only be obtained for a dollar.
Funchal, from the water, presents a very attractive appearance to the
traveller who sees it for the first time. I don’t know when I have
been more impressed with the beauty of any scene, than when from the
deck of our ship, with a delicious atmosphere that obliterated all
recollection of the month being December, a setting sun more keenly
defining and causing to loom up each object, I looked upon its bright
houses, made more so by the deep red of their tiles, as they rose in a
terraced crescent, one above another, the convent of Santa Clara, the
deep-hued verdure that filled up the interstices of the picture, the
Loo Rock fort, and the cathedral in the foreground, with just enough
of time-stain on its towers to make more venerable its front, and
the tortuous paved road, running up the hills like an immense, stony
serpent, terminating at the church of our “Lady of the Mount,” elevated
nineteen hundred feet above the sea; and the vineyards in the distance.
Being an open roadstead, with the wind from a certain direction a
very heavy sea tumbles into the harbor, and there is at all times a
considerable surf breaking on the beach. On going ashore you have
to employ Portuguese surf-boats, which are much better constructed
for purposes of landing than our own. On either side, not far from
the keel, they have projecting pieces resembling the side-fins of a
dolphin, which gives them much steadiness in a sea-way, while head
and stern they have perpendicular handles as it were. As they near
the beach, one of the boatmen jumps over into the water, and, seizing
the piece at the prow, keeps the boat head on, when the succeeding
swell sets her high, if not dry, upon the sand, and you are ashore.
Your way thither may only be delayed a short time, by the officer
contrabandista, who, pulling alongside, touches his hat, and proceeds,
by an inspection of your boat, to see whether his aquatic countrymen
are not attempting to smuggle ashore such things as soap and tobacco,
which his most gracious sovereign of Portugal has been pleased to
reserve as a government monopoly. When the weather is rather rough, the
customary place of landing is the Pontinha, a steep rock terminating
an arched causeway, or kind of breakwater, from which the coal is
usually embarked for the steamers stopping at the island. The scene
presented, or the horrible clamor that salutes your ears, is not
particularly calculated to prolong the pleasant illusion which the
more distant sight of the place gave you. You no sooner put your
foot on the stone stairs than your winding way of ascent is beset by
innumerable lazzaroni most offensive in habit and appearance, whose
rabid importunities for alms will not permit you to say them nay. Once
through this crowd of “dago” pauperism—the most squalid and effete
of all pauperism, your movements on the causeway are impeded by the
boisterous calls of the Borro Querros, with their horses already
saddled and bridled for “gentlemin” to ride. The bellowing guttural of
one fellow provokes your attention to his steed, in whose praises he is
loud, having gotten which, he digs him in flank, and dashes off over
the stony pavement, to show you his paces. Your charger selected (I had
a weakness in the matter of a fine bay myself,) the din ceases. Our
party, consisting of five or six well mounted, determined on a gallop
to the “Petite Coral,” calling on the polite and hospitable consul on
our way thither. One peculiarity strikes you on starting, that is, that
your dago friend, of whom you obtained your charger, acts as a kind
of equerry during your ride, and the better to enable him to accompany
you, when you are inclined to give your horse the rein, he seizes that
animal by the tail with one hand, keeping off the flies with a wisp in
the other, or uses it as an accelerator on his haunches, holding on
meanwhile with a grip which the Kirk Alloway witches would have envied
when they brought about that _finale_ to “poor Maggy.”
The streets through which we rode were quite narrow, and enclosed by
balconied houses of two stories, or stuccoed garden walls, over which
the graceful banana leaf bent, or a cornice of beautiful running
flowers was to be seen. From the nearly closed casement pretty dark
eyes peeped down upon you, pretty I fear, because scarcely any other
features were visible. The native women we met in the street walked
closely veiled, which none who met them desired to have done away
with, if a truant zephyr once gave a sight of their swarthy faces.
Your attention is attracted by the rather picturesque costume of the
natives, which consists of a loose shirt drawn at the waist, knee
breeches made full, _white_ boots which are regularly chalked, and
on the summit of their cranium they wear a cap of cloth bearing an
identical resemblance to an apothecary’s glass funnel inverted. The
manner in which the peasants retain these head coverings in their
place, has been as perplexing to strangers, as how the apple got
inside the dumpling was to England’s sovereign, but considering the
population, it would not be uncharitable to conclude that the tension
is induced by the vacuum in the noddles they surmount, on the principle
of the “sucker” with which philosophic juveniles raise a brick. The
continued “Boo-ah” resounding in the streets, as the driver of the
sleds with casks upon them spurs up the two poor little oxen, whom a
small boy leads with a string from the horn, soon convinces you that
you are in the land of the elevating “Tinta,” and generous “Serchal.”
Should the sled drag heavily over the stones, the small boy throws
down in front of it a wetted cloth, passing over which, the runner is
lubricated.
On reaching the residence of the American consul, we dismounted and
partook of a lunch, which his hospitality invariably provides for his
visiting countrymen. It is unnecessary to tell with what gusto, men who
eighteen days before were gathered around a stove in their own land,
were now in the genial air of Madeira, windows open, and perfume coming
in all around from beautiful plants, partook of the rich treat of
guavas, the small banana, and the Mandarin orange just plucked from the
tree that thrust itself in the casement. The snack over, we ascended to
the consul’s observatory; a fine glass, mounted on a tripod, swept the
offing and anchorage, giving every object much nearness. Our old ship
lying stately at her anchors, was just saluting with twenty-one guns
the Portuguese flag floating at her fore, which was promptly returned
by the fort on Loo Rock. Around and below us were patches of green-vine
and trellis, amid an expanse of red tile roofs, on many of which were
placed wine-casks that they might sweeten in the sun. We then descended
to the wine-houses, where butt after butt of large dimensions, reached
by foot ladders, of Tinta and Serchal, and “Navy,” told how the
delightful grape of the island had swelled into fullness, and then been
crushed into wine. Ah! Clarence, thou shouldst have lived till now.
We mounted and started for le Petite Coral, by the way of the church
_Nossa Senhora do Monte_. The angle of ascent of the road is over
twenty degrees, but the style of going up is usually to give your
horse his head and his rider’s heel, and if like Putnam’s he dashes
up, racketing it over the stones, and sending back fire from his
heels, why it’s the way. Being bantered for a dash up by one of my
messmates, and my friend the Borro Querro in the rear not being a party
thereto, I regret to remark, that the last I saw of that respected
individual after the start, he was engaged in performing some very
sudden gyrations proximate to the roadside hedge. However, a glass
of the country wine, on his joining me at the blowing place, about
half-way up, enabled me to make my entire peace with him for the
suddenness of my leaving. The way up was lined with vines and dogs,
peasant girls and chapels, mendicants and donkeys, which would knock
Mr. Laurence Sterne’s sentimental blubber all in the head. The clatter
of the approaching hoofs caused the dark browed senoritas to “come
unto the window,” but the horses appeared to hurry on the faster for
their presence. The descent of this mountain is generally made at
a rapid pace, on a rude sled, two boys riding behind and giving it
proper direction. The mode of movement about the streets, is, if a
foreigner and invalid, in a hammock suspended from a pole, and borne
on the shoulders of two men, steadying themselves as they walk with
quarter-staffs; if a native gentleman in a canopied sled drawn by
unsightly oxen, which _quick_ mode of movement will convey a very good
idea of the enterprise of the people who employ it.
But we were on the way to the Church of the Lady of the Mount. It was
not very long before we dismounted at the foot of the long flight of
discolored stone steps that led to its front. On reaching the terrace
we looked down on the view below us. The town had dwindled into a
white-washed amphitheatre; the ships were not quite as much changed
as the objects to the sight of Edgar from the cliffs of Dover, but
appeared greatly reduced in proportion. I could scarcely believe that
the Mississippi, riding at her anchors in the bay, was the floating
home of over three hundred human beings!
On entering the church, we were met at the door by a pussy snuff-taking
priest, whose besmeared outer garment looked as if it would have
been all the better for the application of a cake of brown soap in
connection with some of the clear water which coursed down the mountain
past his sanctuary. The interior of the edifice displayed the most
garish taste, and with its sickening amount of gilding, was embellished
in the most tawdry manner. There was the customary proportion of
relics, and the paintings around looked very old. Our stay was short,
and after leaving a small sum for our footing, as Jack would say, we
returned to our steeds, leaving the wax figure of the lady patroness
of the island in a glass case in the rear, looking as demure and as
indifferent to our presence as when we entered. The whilom legends of
the devout tell of her, at a time when breadstuffs were scarce, having
left her crystal enclosure and gone to hurry on cargoes of grain to
Funchal, which, like Buckingham, were “on the sea.”
The descent to the Coral—a deep mountain gorge of singular and
circular formation—is by a narrow shelf of a road cut in the face of a
precipitous hill, and running in inclined planes. One does not entirely
fancy the task of going down; but then the horses are rough-shod,
with reference to such places, are remarkably sure footed, and move
instinctively with much caution. On getting to the bottom, the road by
which we had just come looked like a mere thread-line on the face of
the cliff that hung over us. Its depth is some sixteen hundred feet,
and you look up to the azure above you as from an immense pit. We
stopped at a small mill situated at the lowest point of the Coral, to
give our horses a little time to blow, and our borro querros a little
country wine, which was likewise patronized by ourselves. I noticed
around clumps of pines planted for fuel, and a number of exquisite
flowers growing spontaneously. We ascended from the Coral by a road
equally as narrow and precipitous as the one by which we had gone
down, only proving less clear; a large rock which had caved from the
bank nearly barricaded the path, and on reaching it my horse, whose
reputation I subsequently ascertained to be one for shying, came quite
near treating himself and rider to a Tarpean fate. On reaching the top,
we were refreshed by a breeze redolent with perfume, and turned into
a road enclosed on either side by hedges of bona fide geranium. It is
feeding on this sweet plant that imparts to the meat of the native
cattle, when eaten, a peculiar flavor; and the honey of the bee who
gathers his sweets from it, is strongly impregnated with its pleasant
odor. No wonder that the attenuated invalid should resort to thee,
beautiful Madeira, to revive his drooping spirits. We returned to the
city in the evening, by a road running past pleasant gardens, and by a
bridge that spans the canal which receives the quickly-swollen mountain
streams, and put ourselves in charge of mine host of Guilletti’s.
The next day I landed near the governmental house, where was staying
as a guest the invalided empress mother of Brazil, who had, with a
broken constitution, gone to Madeira, since to die. I visited the
charitable hospital of the place, which fronts on the grand plaza. No
sight can be more loathsome than the one to be seen in the wards of a
Portuguese hospital, unless it be that of the dead mendicants that you
pass in the streets of some of the cities of China. The most terrible
ailments that flesh is heir to, and the greatest suffering that “age,
ache, and penury, can lay on nature,” were present all around. And then
there were others in whom the flame of life, after flickering lowly,
had just gone out. I was very willing to get away from the apartment,
and after descending to a dimly-lighted chapel below, where a solitary
priest was engaged in prayer for the repose of the dead and dying
above, and glancing at its characteristic decorations, I left the
building. The edifice itself is quite an extended one, though it has no
architectural beauty to attract attention. Over its main entrance, cut
elaborately in a massive block of stone, are the royal arms of Portugal.
My next place of visit was to the local prison, through which I was
accompanied by a sergeant. The inmates, who were composed of both
sexes, confined for offences of smuggling a bar of soap, up to those
of a graver character, are allowed to indulge in any handiwork for
which they are competent, and the product of their hands, tied on
the ends of poles, is thrust through their prison-windows into the
street, of which they solicit the purchase by the passer-by. But not
even in the prisons are you exempt from the “_por sua suade_”—the
interminable solicitation for alms; and the distance which the prisoner
may be from you is no barrier, as he is provided with a small car
which, with a pole, he can push to his outer grating, and as quickly
withdraw. I can mention a circumstance to show with what little sense
of degradation or hesitancy this thing of alms-asking is indulged in by
a dago population. I was sitting in front of the consul’s, conversing
with some friends, when quite a genteel and tidily-dressed person,
rejoicing in a much better pair of patent-leathers than I could muster,
approached us and solicited alms, and was quite pertinacious in his
request. I had heard of the Spanish beggars on horseback, who solicited
aid of pedestrians on the ground that they had more need of assistance
than other people because they had to support their beast as well as
themselves, but I had never met with anything quite as deliberate until
I encountered my patent-leather-shoe friend at Madeira.
And now we have been at Funchal two days, and the third, on which we
are to take our departure for St. Helena, has arrived. In taking leave
of the pleasant isle of vine and bower, the writer regrets that he can
not, for the benefit of those of a more sentimental mood than himself,
follow the example of others, and say something about the Santa Clara
convent, that stands embosomed by deep foliage on the hill, and tell
in touching tones about the fair and unhappy Donna Clementina, who,
besides being admired because Heaven had vouchsafed to her a visage
blonde, when those around were brunette, was also loved for other
qualities, for which _vide_ her devotees—how she “would be a nun,” and
how she “wouldn’t be a nun;” and how some “young Lochinvar,” who they
say came “out of the west,” once wished to do something both romantic
and desperate, and rescue the fair lady from the holy precincts where,
it was represented, she was most unwillingly detained; but, with Mr.
Aminadab Sleek, in the play, “we are really afraid we can’t.”
Good-by, Madeira, whose tropical beauty was so fresh to me, and the
picture of whose loveliness will be ever in mind.
“Long, long be my heart with such memories filled.”