Born 1753.--Died 1824.
In commencing the life of this traveller I experience some apprehension
that the interest of the narrative may suffer in my hands; since his
exploits, as Sallust observes of those of the Athenians, appear to
acquire much of their importance from the peculiar eloquence with which
they are described. The style of Le Vaillant, though regarded by many
as declamatory and negligent, is in fact so graceful, natural, and full
of vivacity,--his sentiments are so warm,--his ideas, whether right or
wrong, so peculiarly his own, that, whether he desires to interest you
in the fate of his friends or of his cattle, of his collections or of
his cocks and hens, the result is invariably the same: he irresistibly
inspires you with feelings like his own, and for the moment compels
you, in spite of yourself, to adopt his views and opinions. I cannot,
however, flatter myself with the hope of equal success. Things really
trifling in themselves might, I am afraid, continue to appear so
when dressed in my plain style; and it therefore only remains for me
to select, to the best of my judgment, such actions and events as
really deserve to be remembered, and must always, with whatever degree
of simplicity they may be described, command a certain degree of
attention. The scene of this writer’s adventures had in many instances
all the charm of novelty when his travels first appeared. No European
had preceded him in his route. He could form no conjecture respecting
the nature of the objects with which the morrow was to bring him
acquainted, and at every step experienced the
Novos decerpere flores.
In all the pleasures to be derived from pursuing an untrodden path,
from penetrating into an unknown world; for such then was Africa,
and such, in a great measure, it still continues--from beholding new
species of birds and animals which his enthusiasm and perseverance
were about to make known to mankind;--in all these pleasures, I say,
he skilfully makes his readers his associates, and thus, apparently
without effort, accomplishes the intention of the most consummate
rhetorical art, the object of which is only to lead the imagination
captive by the allurements of pleasure, or to urge it along by the keen
sting of curiosity.
François le Vaillant was born in 1753, at Paramaribo, in Dutch Guiana,
where his father, a rich merchant, originally from Metz, filled the
office of consul. Even while a child the tastes and habits of his
parents inspired him with a partiality for a wandering life, and for
collections of objects of natural history, which quickly generated
another passion, the passion for hunting; and this amusement,
unphilosophical as it may seem, not only occupied his boyish days, in
which man is cruel from thoughtlessness, but his riper and declining
years, when suffering and calamity might have taught him to respect the
lives even of the inferior animals.
His father, actuated by the love of science, or by the vanity of
forming a collection, employed much of the leisure which he enjoyed in
travelling through the less frequented parts of the colony, accompanied
by his wife and son; and to this circumstance may be attributed Le
Vaillant’s twofold passion for travelling and for natural history.
The desire of possessing a cabinet of his own soon arose. Birds and
beasts being as yet beyond his reach, he commenced with caterpillars,
butterflies, and other insects; but his ambition increasing with his
acquisitions, he at length armed himself with the Indian sarbacan and
bow, and before he had reached his tenth year had slain innumerable
birds.
In 1763 he proceeded with his parents to Europe, where every object
which presented itself to his eye was new. They first landed in
Holland, where the phlegmatic Dutchmen, who, like the Chinese, pique
themselves upon being “slow and sure,” viewed with astonishment the
pert and forward urchin, who, at ten years of age, began to babble of
science, cabinets, and collections. From Holland, however, they soon
removed to the more congenial soil of France. Here precocity, which
too frequently generates hopes never destined to be fulfilled, has
always been viewed with more complacency than in any other country in
Europe; and accordingly our youthful traveller, whose vanity amply
made up for his want of knowledge, was flattered and encouraged to his
heart’s content. In this particular instance the flowers were succeeded
by fruit. Being capable of existing in solitude, which is difficult
in youth, but yet absolutely necessary to the acquisition of studious
habits, he yielded to his natural inclination for the chase, and spent
whole weeks in the forests of Lorrain and Germany, intently studying
the manners of animals and birds. His education, meanwhile, was not
in other respects neglected; but the books which occupied him most
agreeably were voyages and travels, as his mind seems already to have
turned towards that point from which he was to derive his fame.
In the course of the year 1777 some fortunate circumstance conducted
him to Paris, where the collections and cabinets of learned and
scientific men at first afforded him extraordinary delight; but
ended, he says, by inspiring him with contempt, the richness of the
treasures which they contained being equalled only by the confusion
and absurdity observable in their arrangement. He discovered likewise
in the current works on natural history, even in those of Buffon, so
much exaggeration, and so many errors, notwithstanding the masterly
eloquence with which those errors are clothed, that, convinced that no
degree of genius could preserve from delusion the man who describes
nature at second-hand, he at length determined to become a traveller
before he became a natural historian, that he might observe in their
native woods and deserts the animals which he wished to make known to
the world. With these views, without communicating his plans to any
person, he departed from Paris on the 17th of July, 1780, and proceeded
to Holland.
Having visited the principal cities of the republic, and admired at
Amsterdam the superb collection and aviary of M. Temminck and others,
he obtained permission to proceed to the Cape of Good Hope in one
of the ships of the Dutch East India Company, and set sail for that
country on the 3d of December, 1780, the day before England declared
war against the Dutch. Had this event taken place twenty-four hours
sooner, the company, he observes, would not have allowed them to
depart; in which case all his projects might have been frustrated.
During the voyage the ship was cannonaded during several hours by a
small English privateer, while the Dutch captain, rendered incapable
of reflection by terror, never returned a single shot; and although
exceedingly superior in men and metal to the enemy, would undoubtedly
have suffered himself to be taken prisoner, had not another Dutch
ship-of-war hove in sight, and put to flight the audacious Englishman.
This was the only incident worthy of mention which occurred to
dissipate the _ennui_ of their long voyage; and they arrived at Cape
Town three months and ten days after their departure from the Texel.
Le Vaillant, who had taken care to provide himself previous to his
departure from Amsterdam with numerous letters of recommendation,
was received with remarkable attention by several individuals of
distinction at the Cape. His design of exploring the remoter districts
of the colony and the adjacent countries fortunately excited no
jealousy or suspicion in their minds, and therefore, instead of
labouring, as petty colonial governments too frequently do, to obstruct
the interests of science, they evinced a disposition to favour the
views of the traveller, entertained him with profuse hospitality during
the many months which the preparations for his journey required him to
remain among them, and, which to him was still more important, exerted
their influence and authority to facilitate his movements towards the
countries of the interior. So agreeable a reception could not, of
course, fail to produce its effect upon the mind of the traveller.
It quite melted away his affected misanthropy. He found himself in
good-humour with mankind, and, as if benevolence and philanthropy were
the peculiar attributes of the natives of Holland, observes, that this
species of politeness was what he had reckoned upon, for that he knew
he had to deal with Dutchmen!
His remarks upon Cape Town, now no longer in the possession of the
Dutch, are sufficiently curious, as they enable us to contrast its
appearance fifty years ago with that which it at present wears under
English government. Though a large proportion of the houses were
spacious and handsome, the streets, in spite of their great breadth,
appeared disagreeable even to a Frenchman, on account of the badness of
the pavement, and the stench which everywhere offended the nostrils,
arising from the heads, feet, and intestines of slaughtered animals
which the butchers of the company were in the habit of casting forth
in heaps before their doors, and which, with more than Ottomite
negligence, the authorities allowed to putrefy upon the spot. The
effluvia proceeding from these abominations Le Vaillant with reason
regarded as one of the active causes of those epidemics which usually
prevailed in the city during those seasons in which the violent
south-east wind had not blown. While this cleansing wind was performing
its operations, the streets were almost rendered impassable. The
hurricane, precipitating from the mountains dense masses of vapour,
raged for several days with indescribable impetuosity, overthrowing
every thing in its course, and filling all places, even to the closets,
trunks, and drawers, with dust. Trees and plants were frequently torn
up by the roots; and well-planted gardens were rendered in the course
of twenty-four hours as bare and naked as a desert.
Le Vaillant found the native colonists of the Cape handsome and well
formed, particularly the women; but, although they studied with
perseverance the important science of dress, they were still very far,
in his opinion, from the ease and elegance of the ladies of France;
a result which he in a great measure attributes to the practice of
employing slaves as wet-nurses, and of otherwise living with them in
habits of great familiarity. Slavery under any form is a thing to be
abhorred; but our traveller here seems to exaggerate its deformities.
Gracefulness, taste, decorum, which should, perhaps, be numbered among
the virtues in a well-regulated state, are things with which slavery
is by no means incompatible. The most polished nation of antiquity,
which every person but a Frenchman will allow to have at least equalled
the Parisians in refinement, constantly employed domestic slaves, and
lived with them on terms of considerable familiarity. But ignorance
and refinement are necessarily repugnant to each other; and in general
the Dutch inhabitants of the Cape were, according to Le Vaillant,
remarkable for their ignorance, which, without the aid of slavery,
would sufficiently account for the absence of graceful and elegant
manners.
Strangers, however, arriving at the Cape were almost invariably
received with great hospitality, more particularly the English, who
were admired for their generosity, as much as the French, for their
sordid avarice and egotism, were despised and hated. Le Vaillant, in
fact, observes that he has frequently heard colonists declare they
would prefer being conquered by the English to their owing their
safety to a nation whom they regarded with such aversion as the
French; and the French troops which shortly afterward arrived in the
colony, spreading around them vice and profligacy like a pestilence,
debauching the wives and daughters of those who hospitably received
them into their houses, and sowing dissension and eternal regrets in
the bosoms of a hundred families, fully justified this deep-rooted
hatred. The great number of persons in France who from selfish motives
remain unmarried, and speculate upon the gratification of their feeble
passions at the expense of the weak-minded and the miserable, must
always render the nation an object of aversion among a remote people
like the Dutch colonists of the Cape, whose ignorant simplicity
necessarily exposes them to the shame of suffering by such immorality.
But if the English were so much the objects of admiration to the
people, their numerous and powerful fleets, which have for centuries
exercised an undisputed omnipotence on the ocean, rendered them no less
terrible to the authorities, who, to secure the company’s vessels from
their dreaded cannon, commanded them to be removed from Table Bay to
that of Saldanha, where, it was hoped, their chances of escape would be
more numerous. On board of one of these our traveller embarked on the
10th of May, and next morning arrived safely in the Bay of Saldanha,
happy that the dreaded English flag had not encountered them on their
passage.
In the waters of this bay, which was then but seldom visited, great
numbers of whales were continually seen sporting about; and Le
Vaillant, whose hunting propensities were immediately awakened by the
sight of a wild animal, frequently amused himself with firing at this
new species of game. He could never perceive, however, that his balls
produced the least effect upon them. But in Mutton Island, situated
in the entrance of the bay, his fowlingpiece was more fortunate; for,
from the prodigious number of rabbits with which that isle abounded, he
found it easy on all occasions to kill as many as he pleased. In fact,
this little isle became the warren of the whole fleet.
Various species of game abounded in the neighbourhood, among which
the principal were the partridge and the hare, and that small kind of
gazelle denominated steen-bock by the colonists. The panther, too,
following in the track of his prey, was found in great numbers in
this district. A few days after his arrival Le Vaillant was invited
by the commandant to join him in a hunting-party. Their chase was
unsuccessful: they killed nothing. Towards the close of the day, as if
fate had decreed that his courage should at once be put to the proof,
Le Vaillant found himself separated from his companion; and continuing
as he proceeded to fire at intervals, in the hope of arousing the game,
he started a small gazelle, which his dog immediately pursued. The
gazelle was quickly out of sight, but the dog, which still seemed to be
upon his track, stopped on the skirts of a large thicket, and began to
bark. Le Vaillant, who had now no doubt that the game had taken refuge
there, hastened to the spot with all the eagerness of a sportsman.
His presence encouraged the dog, and he every moment expected to see
the gazelle appear; but at length, growing impatient, he entered
into the thicket, beating the bushes aside with his fowlingpiece.
It is difficult, however, to describe the terror and confusion he
experienced when, instead of a timid and feeble gazelle, he saw before
him a tremendous panther, whose glaring eyes were fixed upon him, while
its outstretched neck, gaping jaws, and low, hollow growl seemed to
announce its intention of springing. He regarded himself as lost. But
the calm courage of his dog saved his life. It kept the animal at bay,
hesitating between rage and fear, until the traveller had retreated out
of the thicket. He then made towards the house of the commandant with
all possible speed, frequently looking behind him as he ran.
Another kind of terror shortly after seized upon him at sea. He was
sitting at supper with the captain and the other officers, when
a sudden strange motion was observed in the ship. Every person
immediately ran on deck. The whole crew were alarmed. Some imagined
they had run upon their anchors, and were beating against the rocks;
others accounted for the shock in a different manner; but, perceiving
from the position of the other ships that they were still exactly where
they had been before, no one could conjecture the cause of what had
happened, and their alarm was redoubled. Presently, however, upon more
careful observation, a whale was discovered entangled by the tail,
between the ship’s cables, and making furious efforts to disengage
itself. This was the cause of the singular motion they had felt. All
hands now rushed with harpoons into the boat; but the obscurity of the
night retarding their movements, the whale, just as they were ready to
attack it, succeeded in disentangling its tail, and escaped.
In the entrance to Saldanha Bay there is a second small island, to
which the colonists have given the name of the Marmotte. Upon this
sequestered spot the captain of a Danish vessel, as our traveller
had learned from tradition, having been long detained in the bay
by contrary winds, had died there, and been buried by his crew. Le
Vaillant now conceived the desire of visiting his grave. In sailing
by this lonely rock, in the passage to and from Mutton Island, he
had invariably been struck by a dull but startling sound, proceeding
from the isle. He mentioned the circumstance to the captain. The
good-natured navigator, anxious to oblige his guest, and perhaps
himself desirous of beholding the Dane’s grave, replied, that if his
wishes pointed that way they should immediately be gratified.
Next morning, accordingly, they proceeded towards the island. In
proportion as they advanced, the noise, increasing in loudness, more
and more excited their curiosity; and the sound of the waves, which
broke with great violence against the rocks, contributed not a little
to swell the deep murmur, the cause of which no one could conjecture.
They landed at length amid spray and foam, and, clambering up the
cliffs, succeeded with much difficulty in reaching the summit. Here
they beheld a sight such, in the opinion of our traveller, as no mortal
ever beheld before. There arose in a moment from the surface of the
earth an impenetrable cloud, which formed, at the height of forty
feet above their heads, a prodigious canopy, or rather sky, of birds
of every kind and colour. “Cormorants, sea-swallows, pelicans,--in
one word,” says he, “all the winged creatures of Southern Africa were
collected, I verily believe, in that spot. The screams of so enormous
a multitude of birds mingling together formed an infernal species of
music, which seemed to rend the ear with its piercing notes.
“The alarm,” he adds, “was so much the greater, among these innumerable
legions of birds, in that it was the females with whom we had
principally to deal, it being the season of nesting. They had therefore
their nests, their eggs, their young ones to defend, and were as fierce
as so many harpies. They deafened us with their cries. They stooped
upon the wing, and in darting past us, brushed our faces. It was in
vain that we fired our pieces; nothing could frighten away this living
cloud. We could scarcely take a single step without crushing some eggs
or young birds: the earth was covered by them.”
They found the caverns and hollows of the rocks inhabited by seals
and sea-lions, of the latter of which they killed one specimen of
enormous size. The various creeks of the island afforded a retreat to
the manchot, a species of penguin, two feet in height, the wings of
which, being entirely devoid of feathers, are only used in swimming. On
land they hang down by the side of the body in a negligent manner, and
communicate to the appearance and air of the bird something peculiarly
sinister and funereal. These dismal-looking birds crowded every part
of the island, but were nowhere so numerous as about the Dane’s tomb,
around which they clustered as if to defend it from violation, and with
their startling, melancholy cry, which mingled with the roar of the
seal and the sea-lion, gave an air of sadness to the scene which deeply
affected the soul. In itself the tomb was rude and simple,--a single
block of stone, without name or inscription.
During the whole of his stay on this part of the coast Le Vaillant
was actively employed in adding to his collection, which, with his
money, clothes, and papers, continued on board the Middleburg, the
principal ship on the station. He had now been three months in this
neighbourhood, which he had traversed in every direction. He still
continued, however, to roam about with his dog and gun in search of
birds and animals; but one day, on approaching the shore, the roaring
of cannon struck his ear. He at first supposed it might be some _fête_
given on board the ships, and hastened his march as much as possible,
in the hope of sharing in the rejoicings. Upon his reaching the downs
overlooking the bay, a very different spectacle presented itself. The
Middleburg had just been blown up, and its burning fragments still
filled the air, or lay widely scattered upon the sea! Here, then, was
the end of all his hopes; for not only the results of his labours, but
his fortune, the basis upon which all his projects were founded, was
now destroyed.
The cause of this calamity was soon discovered. The English fleet,
having obtained intelligence of the retreat of the Dutch, had burst
upon them so suddenly, that the terrified commanders had all, with the
exception of Vangenep, the commander of the Middleburg, been taken
unawares, and prevented from executing the orders they had received,
rather to run aground, sink, or blow up their ships, than suffer
them to fall into the hands of the enemy. Instead of this, they all
abandoned their vessels at the first appearance of the English, the
sailors, notwithstanding their apprehensions of the enemy, carrying
away with them every thing they could bring on shore, though the desire
to escape beyond reach of the English cannon quickly compelled them
to cast their burdens on the ground. Everywhere the roads and paths
were crowded with fugitives, and covered with the plunder which they
had abandoned on the way. Among the rest, an English prisoner was
flying from the shore. Le Vaillant met him, and having, as well as he
could, questioned him in English respecting the horrible catastrophe,
was expecting an answer, when a cannon-ball carried off his head, and
the answer with it. A large dog, which was running about wild and
trembling, apparently in search of his master, was next moment killed
by another ball; and Le Vaillant, apprehensive that the third might
reach himself, immediately fled over the downs, and ensconced himself
behind an eminence.
His position at this moment, it must be confessed, was sufficiently
calamitous. To repair to the Cape, there to petition among a crowd of
adventurers and unfortunates for pecuniary aid, was a step he could
ill brook; yet, unless he submitted to this humiliation, what must
be his fate? His family, his friends, his adopted country were two
thousand leagues distant. His whole resources now consisted in his
fowlingpiece, the clothes he then wore, and ten ducats. His misfortunes
presented themselves to his mind in all their horrors, and he burst
into tears,--a trait of weakness for which he might have pleaded the
example of Homer’s and Virgil’s poetical heroes. An honest colonist,
however, to whose house he repaired in this extremity, received him
with a frank hospitality, which in some degree dissipated his chagrin;
and he next day returned, though not without melancholy, to the first
elements of his collection.
His misfortunes were soon known at the Cape, and in a few days after
this occurrence he was again placed, by the friendship of M. Boers,
the fiscal, in a condition to act as if nothing had happened. He
therefore directed his attention to the preparations required by his
projected journey into the interior; and these, from the style in
which he designed to travel, were numerous and considerable. He caused
to be constructed two large four-wheeled wagons, covered above with
double canvass, in one of which were placed five large packing-cases,
which exactly filled the bottom of the vehicle, and could be opened
without being removed. Over these was spread a mattress, on which he
might occasionally sleep; and on this mattress, which during the day
was rolled up in the back of the wagon, he placed the cabinet fitted
up with drawers, in which he intended to preserve his insects. The
other cases were filled with powder, lead for casting balls, tobacco,
hardware, brandy, and toys. He had sixteen fowlingpieces, one of which,
calculated for shooting elephants, rhinoceroses, and hippopotami,
carried a quarter of a pound ball. Besides these he had several pairs
of double-barrelled pistols, a scimitar, and a dagger.
The second wagon carried his kitchen utensils, which, as he was
rather addicted to luxurious eating, were numerous for a traveller: a
gridiron, a frying-pan, two kettles, a caldron, tea-kettles, tea-pots,
coffee-pots, basins, plates, dishes, &c. of porcelain. To supply these
he laid in a large store of white sugar, coffee, tea, chocolate, and
sugar-candy. His brandy and tobacco, to the use of which he was not
at all addicted, were designed to purchase friends among the natives,
and to keep his Hottentot attendants in good-humour. In addition
to his wagons he had a great and a small tent, and numerous other
conveniences, which he describes with great complacency. His train
consisted of five Hottentots, nine dogs, and thirty oxen; but both his
servants and his cattle were afterward considerably increased.
Le Vaillant judged rightly, that on proceeding on such an expedition
it would be imprudent to have any associate of equal rank. Few men are
calculated by nature to become travellers, though every person whose
constitution will endure fatigue may perform a journey; but there are
still fewer who are gifted with those happy qualities which render
men desirable companions in an undertaking whence fame is expected to
be derived. Some, from feebleness of purpose, desert you almost at
the outset, and, to conceal their own pusillanimity, represent you
in their coteries as feeble, or selfish, or impracticable; others,
more mischievous still, proceed so far that they cannot return, but,
clinging to your skirts, contrive on every trying occasion to impede
your movements, or cast a damp upon your energies; while a third class,
too brave to feel alarm, too consistent to shrink from an enterprise
begun, too honest to misrepresent you, will yet thwart your designs
through obstinacy, or through the pardonable but fatal desire to follow
a plan of their own. For these reasons our traveller, though solicited
by many who would have gladly borne him company, steadily refused to
admit of an associate, and determined to proceed on his journey alone.
His preparations being at length completed, he took leave of his
friends, and departed from Cape Town on the 18th of December, 1781.
Whatever be the natural condition of man, his mind never so powerfully
experiences the emotions of delight as when, escaping voluntarily from
the restraints of society and civilization, he finds himself his own
master, and trusting to his own prowess for protection, on the virgin
bosom of the earth; for of all the enjoyments which Heaven bestows upon
mankind perfect liberty is the sweetest. Something of this Le Vaillant
now tasted; for, although still within the pale of the laws and the
purlieus of government, he saw himself on the way to the freedom of
the woods, and partook by anticipation of those pleasures which to the
savage are, perhaps, an ample equivalent for the gratification which
letters and refinement afford.
The direction of his course lay along the eastern coast, towards the
country of the Kaffers. At intervals the houses of colonists, with
their orchards and plantations, appeared; but they became thinner
as he advanced, while the woods and general scenery increased in
magnificence; and the troops of wild animals, such as the zebra and
the antelope, which stretched themselves out like armies on the plain,
became strikingly more numerous and of more frequent occurrence. “We
likewise,” says the traveller, “saw several ostriches; and the variety
and the movements of these vast hordes were particularly amusing. My
dogs fiercely pursued all these different species of animals, which,
mingling together in their flight, often formed but one enormous
column. This confusion, however, like that of theatrical machines,
lasted but for a moment. I recalled my dogs, and in an instant each
animal had regained his own herd, which constantly kept at a certain
distance from all the others.” Among these animals were the blue
antelope, the rarest and most beautiful of all the known species of
gazelle.
The habits of a small kind of tortoise, which afforded them the
materials of various feasts during this part of the journey, are very
remarkable. When the great heats of summer arrive, and dry up the ponds
in which they pass the winter, they descend into the earth in search of
humidity, deeper and deeper in proportion as the sun penetrates farther
and farther into the soil. In this position they remain plunged in a
kind of lethargy until the return of the rainy season; but those who
require them for food may always, by digging, discover an ample supply.
Their eggs, which they lay on the brink of the small lakes and ponds
which they inhabit, and abandon to be hatched by the sun, are about the
size of those of the pigeon, and extremely good eating.
Le Vaillant was careful as he went along to augment his followers, both
rational and irrational. He hired several new Hottentots, and purchased
a number of oxen, with a milch-cow, and some she-goats, whose milk he
foresaw might be an important possession in various circumstances. He
likewise purchased a cock to awake him in the morning, and a monkey,
which, besides serving as an almost unerring taster, his instinct
enabling him immediately to distinguish such fruits and herbs as were
innoxious and wholesome from such as were hurtful, was a still better
watchman even than the dog, as the slightest noise, the most distant
sign of danger, instantly awakened his terrors, and, by the cries and
gestures of fear which it extorted from him, put his master upon his
guard.
Thus accompanied, he continued his journey towards the east, until his
progress was stopped by the Dove’s River, upon the banks of which he
determined to encamp until the decrease of its waters should render
it fordable. His mode of life, which the hospitable invitations of
the neighbouring colonists, to whom the sight of a stranger was like a
spring in the desert, were not suffered to interrupt, was exceedingly
agreeable. “I regulated,” says he, “the employment of my time, which
was usually spent in the following manner:--At night, when not
travelling, I slept in my wagon or in my tent; awakened by the break
of day by my cock, my first business was to prepare my coffee, while
the Hottentots, on their part, were busied about the cattle. As soon
as the sun appeared I took my fowlingpiece, and, setting out with my
monkey, beat about the neighbourhood until ten o’clock. On returning to
my tent, I always found it well swept and clean. The superintendence
of this part of my economy had been confided to the care of an old
African whose name was Swanspoel, who, not being able to follow us
in our rambles, was intrusted with the government of the camp, and
invariably maintained it in good order. The furniture of my tent was
not very abundant; a camp-stool or two, a table appropriated to the
dissection of my animals, and a few instruments required in their
preparation constituted the whole of its ornaments. From ten o’clock
until twelve I was employed in my tents, classing in my drawers the
insects I had found. I then dined. Placing upon my knees a small board
covered with a napkin, a single dish of roasted or broiled meat was
served up. After this frugal meal I returned to my work, if I had left
any thing unfinished, and then amused myself with hunting until sunset.
I then retired to my tent, lighted a candle, and spent an hour or two
in describing my discoveries or the events of the day in my journal.
Meanwhile, the Hottentots were employed in collecting the cattle, and
penning them around the tents and wagons. The she-goats, as soon as
they had been milked, lay down here and there among the dogs. Business
being over, and the customary great fire kindled, we gathered together
in a circle. I then took my tea; my people joyously smoked their
pipes, and for my amusement related stories, the humorous absurdity
of which almost made me crack my sides with laughter. I delighted to
encourage them, and they were by no means timid with me, as I was
careful to treat them with frankness, cordiality, and attention. On
many occasions, in fact, when the beauty of the evening succeeding the
fatigues of the day had put me in good-humour with myself and with
every thing about me, I involuntarily yielded to the spell, and gently
cherished the illusion. At such moments every one disputed with his
neighbour for the honour of amusing me by his superior wit; and by the
profound silence which reigned among us, the able story-teller might
discover how highly we appreciated his art. I know not what powerful
attraction continually leads my memory back to those peaceful days!
I still imagine myself in the midst of my camp, surrounded by my
people and my animals; an agreeable site, a mountain, a tree,--nay,
even a plant, a flower, or a fragment of rock scattered here and
there,--nothing escapes from my memory; and this spectacle, which daily
grows more and more affecting, amuses me, follows me into all places,
and has often made me forget what I have suffered from men who call
themselves civilized.”
Provisions were plentiful; partridges as large as pheasants, and
two kinds of antelopes, whose flesh was tender and nourishing. The
colonists of the vicinity, rendered generous by abundance, gratuitously
furnished him with an ample provision of milk, fruit, and vegetables,
which the traveller shared with his monkey and his Hottentots. From
this position, however, he was at length, by the shrinking of the
river, enabled to remove; and, continuing to pursue his route in the
same direction as before, he crossed several diminutive streams, and
arrived on the banks of the river Gaurits, where, the stream not being
fordable, he encamped for three days among groves of mimosa-trees.
Perceiving no sign of abatement in the waters, he then constructed a
raft, upon which his wagons and baggage were ferried over, while the
oxen and other animals swam across.
His road during this part of the journey lay at no great distance from
the sea, which therefore communicated a refreshing coolness to the
breezes, presented him at intervals with magnificent prospects, and
at the same time administered pabulum to his passion for shooting,
its solitary margin affording a retreat to thousands of flamingoes
and pelicans. His animals, meanwhile, fared luxuriously. The soil
throughout these districts was remarkable for its fertility; but a
small canton, a little to the east of Mossel Bay, called the country of
the Auteniquas, surpassed in beauty and magnificence all the landscapes
of southern Africa. Having with considerable toil ascended to the
summit of a mountain, “we were well repaid,” says Le Vaillant, “for
the fatigue which we had undergone. Our admiration was excited by the
loveliest country in the world. In the distance appeared the chain of
mountains covered with forests, which bounded the prospect on the west;
beneath our feet the eye wandered over an immense valley, the aspect
of which was diversified by hillocks, infinitely varied in form, and
descending in wavy swells towards the sea. Richly enamelled meadows
and splendid pasture-grounds still further increased the beauty of
this magnificent landscape. I was literally in ecstasy. This country
bears the name of Auteniquas, which, in the Hottentot idiom, signifies
‘the man laden with honey;’ and, in fact, we could not proceed a
single step without beholding a thousand swarms of bees. The flowers
grew in myriads, and the mingled perfume which exhaled from them, and
deliciously intoxicated the senses, their colours, their variety, the
cool pure air which we breathed, every thing united to arrest our
footsteps. Nature has bestowed the charms of fairy-land upon this spot.
Almost every flower was filled with exquisite juices, and furnished the
bees with abundant materials for the fabrication of their honey, which
they deposited in every hollow rock and tree.”
This description, which no doubt falls far short of the reality--for
what language can equal the beauties of nature?--reminds me strongly
of Spenser’s noble picture of the Gardens of Adonis. Poetry itself,
however, with all its metaphors and picturesque expressions, is faint
and dim compared with the splendour of a summer landscape, where earth,
air, and sea unite their rich hues and sublime aspect to entrance and
dazzle the eye. But our old bard, whom no man ever excelled in minute
painting of inanimate nature, contrives, by careful and repeated
touches, to unfold before the imagination an exquisite view. “There,”
says he, speaking of the gardens of the Assyrian youth,
“There is continual spring, and harvest there
Continual, both meeting at one time:
For both the boughs do laughing blossoms bear
And with fresh flowers deck the wanton prime,
And eke at once the heavy trees they climb,
Which seem to labour under their fruit’s load:
The while the joyous birds make their pastime,
Among the shady leaves, their sweet abode,
And their true loves without suspicion tell abroad.
* * * * *
And all about grew every sort of flower,
To which sad lovers were transformed of yore,” &c.
The dwellings which the few colonists, who had been led by poverty so
far from the Cape, erected in the midst of this smiling scene, offered
a striking contrast with it. Huts covered with earth, like the dens
of wild animals, in which the inhabitants passed the night stretched
upon a buffalo’s hide, afforded shelter to men who lived in plenty,
and were thus badly lodged from mere idleness. It is now inhabited by
Englishmen, and the contrast, it may well be imagined, no longer exists.
Le Vaillant, who apprehended that the country of the Auteniquas
might prove a kind of Capua to his followers, made no stay in it,
but pushed forward with all speed, and encamped on the skirts of an
immense forest. This wood abounded with touracos, a species of bird
of which he had hitherto been able to procure no specimen. His first
business therefore was, if possible, to possess himself of this bird.
His scientific ardour was kindled. He scoured the woods. The touraco
presented itself before him, but its habits unfortunately inclining it
always to perch upon the tops of the loftiest trees, he could never
succeed in bringing it down. One afternoon, however, his eagerness
increasing with his disappointments, he determined not to desist from
the pursuit of his prey, and the bird, which appeared to delight in
mocking him, confined itself to short flights, flitting from tree to
tree, until it had drawn him to a considerable distance from his camp.
Growing impatient, at length the traveller, though still believing
the bird beyond the reach of his fowlingpiece, fired, and had the
unexpected satisfaction of seeing it drop from the tree. His joy now
knew no bounds. He rushed on to snatch up his prey,
Thorough bush, thorough briar,
until his hands and legs were dripping with blood; but when he came
up to the spot where the touraco should have been, he could discover
nothing. He searched the surrounding thickets again and again; he
proceeded farther, he returned, he examined the same spots twenty
times, he peeped into every bush, into every hole; his labour was
in vain. No touraco. “I was,” says he, “in despair, and the thick
brushwood and thorny shrubs, which had now covered even my very face
with blood, had irritated me in an indescribable manner. Nothing less
than the appearance of a lion or a tiger could at that moment have
calmed my rage. That a wretched bird, which, after so many wishes
and so much toil, I had at length succeeded in bringing down, should
after all escape from me in so unaccountable a manner! I struck my
fowlingpiece against the earth, and stamped with passion. All at once
the ground gave way under my feet; I disappeared, and sunk, with my
arms in my hand, into a pit twelve feet deep. Astonishment, and the
pain caused by the fall, now succeeded my rage. I saw myself in one
of those covered pitfalls which the Hottentots construct for the
taking of wild beasts, particularly the elephant. When I had recovered
from my surprise I began to reflect upon the means of escaping, and
congratulated myself that I had not fallen upon the sharp stake fixed
up at the bottom of the pit to impale the wild animals, and that I
found no company in the snare. But as it was every moment possible that
some might arrive, particularly during the night, should I be compelled
to remain there so long, my terrors quickly increased as darkness
approached, and retarded the execution of the only plan I could imagine
for extricating myself without assistance; this was to cut out a kind
of steps with my sabre in the sides of the pit, but this operation
would be a tedious one. In this dilemma the idea of the only rational
plan suggested itself; which was, to pick up and load my fusil. I did
so, and fired shot after shot. It was possible I might be heard by
my attendants. I therefore listened from time to time with the most
painful anxiety and a palpitating heart, in order to discover whether
my signal had been heard. At last two shots re-echoed through the wood,
and overwhelmed me with joy. I now continued firing at intervals, in
order to guide my deliverers to the spot, and in a short time they
arrived, armed to the teeth, and full of uneasiness and alarm.”
He was immediately delivered from the elephant-trap; but having
incurred so much risk in searching for the touraco, he made it a point
of honour not to be balked, and recommencing his scrutiny, with the
dogs which had arrived with his servants, found it jammed close under
a small bush. He immediately seized upon his prey, and the pleasure of
possessing this new and rare bird very quickly obliterated from his
memory the trouble and danger which it had cost him.
In this encampment they remained until the setting in of the rains,
when storms, accompanied by tremendous thunder, succeeded each other
with singular rapidity. The thunderbolt several times fell near them
in the forest. The whole country round was flooded, but they still
clung to their encampment, until the whole was at length overflowed
during the night. They then removed; but could proceed but a very short
distance, for every paltry stream was now swelled to a furious torrent,
which rushed down with impetuosity from the hills, rolling along with
it mud, trees, and fragments of rock, and threatening whoever should
attempt to traverse them with destruction. Meanwhile his cattle,
pressed by hunger, had escaped from the camp; his dogs, which no degree
of want could estrange, were reduced to skeletons, and fought with each
other for the most revolting food; his Hottentots, less affectionate
than the dogs, began to murmur, but could discover no just cause of
complaint, and were but little disposed to aid themselves. A drowned
buffalo, however, which was accidentally found in one of the torrents,
came opportunely to appease their hunger; they dragged it on
shore with shouts of joy, and having cut it in pieces, and given the
dogs their share, they feasted upon the remainder and were happy.
At length the month of March arrived, and the rains abated. The
torrents, ceasing to receive their aliments from the clouds--for,
like the Nile, they are strictly διϊὲες--shrunk to their ordinary
insignificance, the camp was immediately put in motion, and pushing
onwards for a few leagues, they discovered a more convenient site on
the acclivity of a hill, where they remained some time to recruit
themselves and their cattle. Le Vaillant travelled for pleasure,
and was gifted with the happy faculty of discovering at a glance
its springs and sources. Near the site of his camp there was a
small eminence, the summit of which was crowned with a diminutive
grove, where the trees had so grown into each other that the whole
seemed one solid mass of foliage. He immediately conceived the idea
of transforming this thicket into a palace; and causing a covered
entrance to be cut into the centre, he there hewed out two large square
apartments, one of which was immediately converted into a study, and
the other into a kitchen. If we keep out of sight the kitchen, and the
share which art had in its formation, Spenser has admirably described
this arbour, as well as the hill on which it stood:
Right in the middest of that paradise
There stood a stately mount, on whose round top
A gloomy grove of myrtle-trees did rise,
Whose shady boughs sharp steel did never lop,
Nor wicked beasts their tender buds did crop.
But like a girlond compassed the height,
And from their fruitful sides sweet gum did drop,
That all the ground, with precious dew bedight,
Threw forth most dainty odours and most sweet delight.
And in the thickest covert of that shade
There was a pleasant arbour, not by art,
But of the trees’ own inclination, made,
Which knitting their rank branches, part to part,
With wanton ivy-twine entrailed athwart,
And eglantine and caprifole among,
Fashioned above within their inmost part,
That neither Phœbus’ beams could through them throng,
Nor Æolus’ sharp blast could work them any wrong.
But, whatever charms his arbours might possess for him, his plans
rendered it necessary soon to leave them. He therefore, after spending
a pleasant week with M. Mulder, the last of the colonists in his route,
pushed on towards the Black River, which he crossed on rafts, and at
length found himself beyond the Dutch settlements. Here an accident
occurred which might at once have terminated his journey. In toiling
up a rough, precipitous mountain, where it was found necessary to yoke
twenty oxen to a wagon, the traces of the principal vehicle snapped
asunder, immediately in front of the great shaft-oxen, which being
unable to resist the enormous weight to which they were attached,
reeled back, and the wagon at once rolled down along the edge of an
abyss; while Le Vaillant and his whole party stood still, watching,
with uplifted hands and looks of dismay, each shock and slide of
the cumbrous machine, which, after twenty hair-breadth escapes, ran
against a large rock on the edge of the torrent, and stopped, without
receiving any material injury. Loss of time, therefore, was the only
injury he sustained. By patience and industry they succeeded in passing
the mountain, which being effected, they descended into a magnificent
country, watered by numerous rivers, covered with woods, abounding in
game, and affording numerous specimens of birds and quadrupeds unknown
to natural history.
In the midst of this new scene he was overtaken by disease. Though of
a disposition naturally intrepid, the idea that he might be destined
to perish in the wilderness, surrounded by savages, two thousand
leagues from home, disturbed his imagination. Charles the Twelfth of
Sweden, attacked by a fever when flying through the Ukraine after the
battle of Pultowa, experienced a diminution of courage, and, unless my
memory deceive me, was seen to shed tears; and Cæsar, when the fit, as
Shakspeare has it, was on him, cried, “Give me some drink, Titinius,
like a sick girl.” Le Vaillant, therefore, had good authority for
his melancholy. His temperament, moreover, in proportion as it was
more susceptible of exhilarating impressions in health, was proner in
sickness to yield to despondency. He was, besides, entirely ignorant
of medicine; knew nothing of the nature of the disease by which he
was attacked; and was surrounded by persons still more ignorant than
himself. All he could do, therefore, was to remain quiet, and allow
nature to work. For twelve days he lingered on the confines of life
and death, kept in a perpetual bath of perspiration by the heat of the
atmosphere; and this heat was his Pæon and Æsculapius, for by its sole
aid the fever, which had so fiercely menaced him, was entirely subdued.
However, it is extremely probable that he owed the disease as well as
the remedy to the climate. To enhance his misfortunes, his Hottentots
were at the same time attacked by dysentery; but, by strictly attending
to regimen, a difficult task to a gross and sensual people, they all,
without exception, recovered.
This danger being removed, they proceeded on their journey, the
interest of which was every day increased by the greater solitude
of the scene, and the more frequent occurrence of wild animals, or
their traces. I would willingly describe at length the pleasures and
the adventures of this romantic excursion; but my plan forbids me to
indulge in voluminous details, and I want the art to present by a few
masterly strokes the whole of a complicated and animated scene to the
mind. However, I must attempt what I can. After wandering a full month
in a vast plain, intersected by forests, and, in a manner, walled
round by precipices, they were driven back upon their own footsteps,
fatigued and mortified, and unable to conjecture in what direction it
would be possible to advance. While they were in this humour, they
discovered in their route the footmarks of a herd of elephants. To
Le Vaillant, who had never yet enjoyed the satisfaction of hunting
this enormous animal, though it might, perhaps, be said to have
constituted one of his principal reasons for travelling in Africa, the
sight was sufficient to restore his equanimity. The order for halting
was immediately given, and having, as soon as the tents were pitched,
selected five of his best marksmen, our traveller set out in pursuit of
the game.
The traces were so fresh and striking, that they had no difficulty in
following them. They therefore pushed on vigorously, expecting every
moment to come in sight of the herd. But still they saw nothing; and
night coming on, they bivouacked in the woods, and having supped gayly,
lay down to sleep, though not without considerable agitation and alarm.
At every puff of wind rustling through the leaves, at every hum of a
beetle, the whole party was roused, and put upon its guard. It was
feared that the monsters of which they were in search might rush upon
them unawares, and trample them to atoms. However, the night passed
away, as did likewise the day and night ensuing, without their being
disturbed by any thing more formidable than a stray buffalo, which
approaching the fire, and discovering that it was in the vicinity of
man, rushed back with all speed into the woods.
On the third day, after a painful march among briers and underwood,
they arrived in a rather open part of the forest, when one of the
Hottentots, who had climbed up into a tree to reconnoitre, perceived
the herd in the distance, and putting his finger on his lips to enjoin
silence, informed them by opening and closing his hand of the number
of the elephants. He then came down; a council was held; and it was
determined they should approach them on the lee-side that they might
not be discovered. The Hottentot now conducted Le Vaillant through
the bushes to a small knoll, and desiring him to cast his eyes in a
certain direction, pointed out an enormous elephant not many paces
distant. At first, however, Le Vaillant could see nothing; or, rather,
he mistook what he saw of the animal for a portion of the rock by
which it stood. But when at length a slight motion had corrected his
mistake, he distinguished the head and enormous tusks of the beast
turned towards him. He instantly levelled his musket, and, aiming at
the brain, fired, and the elephant dropped down dead. The report of the
gun put the whole herd, consisting of about thirty, to instant flight;
and our traveller beheld with amazement their huge ears flapping the
air with a violence in proportion to the rapidity of their motion.
The whole party now experienced that joyous alacrity which man always
feels when engaged in the work of destruction. They fired upon the
enemy, for as such the beasts were now to be regarded, and the sight
of the excrements mingled with blood, which escaped from the wounded
animal, and informed them that their bullets had taken effect,
delighted them exceedingly. Their pursuit now became more eager. The
elephant, writhing with pain, at one moment crouched to the earth, at
another rose, but only to fall again. The hunters, however, who hung
close upon his haunches, constantly by fresh volleys compelled him to
rise. In this condition he rushed through the woods, snapping off, or
uprooting trees in his passage. At length, becoming furious with pain,
he turned round upon his pursuers, who immediately fled in their turn.
Le Vaillant, more eager than the rest, had unhappily advanced before
them, and was now but twenty-five paces from the animal. His gun of
thirty pounds’ weight impeded his movements. The enemy gained upon
him every moment. His followers gave him up for lost; but just as the
elephant had overtaken him, he dropped down, and crept under the trunk
of a fallen tree, over which the furious beast, whose great height
prevents it, at least in such situations, from seeing under its feet,
bounded in an instant. Being terrified, however, by the noise of the
Hottentots, it had not advanced many paces before it stopped, and with
a wild but searching eye, began to reconnoitre the spot. Our traveller
had his long gun in his hand, and might, had he chosen, have fired
upon his enemy; but he knew that instant destruction must ensue should
he miss his aim, and he therefore preferred trusting to the chances
of concealment. Presently the elephant faced about, and drew near the
tree; but he again leaped over it without perceiving Le Vaillant, who,
as soon as he retreated to a sufficient distance, sprang from his
hiding-place, and shot him in the flank. Notwithstanding all this, he
succeeded in effecting his escape, though his bloody traces too clearly
showed the terrible condition to which their balls had reduced him. In
this critical conjuncture, Klaas, his principal Hottentot, exhibited
proofs of courage and affection which infinitely endeared him to his
master, who thenceforward regarded him more in the light of a brother
than a servant.
To those who have all their lives been accustomed to live upon the
flesh of the ox and the sheep, elephant cutlets may appear revolting;
but in the deserts of Africa, where imperious hunger silences the
objections of prejudice, and teaches man to regard the whole animal
creation as his farmyard, the palate quickly accommodates itself to
the viands within its reach, and even learns to discover delicacy in
things which, in a fashionable dining-room, it might have loathed.
However this may be, Le Vaillant and his Hottentots, whose appetites
were grievously sharpened by fatigue, immediately employed themselves
in cutting up and cooking their game. For the former, as the most
dainty personage of the party, a few slices off the trunk were broiled,
and he found them so exquisite that, being as I have already said,
to a certain degree, an epicure, they gave him a taste for elephant
hunting, which he afterward seized every occasion of indulging. But he
was informed by Klaas that by far the greatest delicacy, which would
cause him to forget the flavour of the trunk, was yet to come. This
consisted of the elephant’s foot, which his people undertook to dress
for his breakfast.
The reader who has perused Captain Cook’s “Voyages in the South Seas,”
or Ledyard, or the “Histoire Naturelle de l’Homme” of Lesson, will
remember the description given by those navigators of the curious
subterranean ovens employed by the native islanders in cooking. A large
opening is made in the earth, which is filled with red-hot stones or
charcoal, and upon these a great fire is kept up for several hours.
The hole is then cleared, and the thing which is to be baked inserted
in the centre. Then the top is again closed, and a blazing fire once
more kindled; which, having burned during a great part of the night,
is at length extinguished, when the oven is opened, and the meat taken
out, more exquisitely cooked than any man accustomed to the ordinary
culinary processes can conceive.
Such was the process by which the elephant’s feet were baked for Le
Vaillant. When they presented him one for breakfast, “The cooking,”
says he, “had enlarged it prodigiously; I could scarcely recognise
the form. But it looked so nice, and exhaled so delicious an odour,
that I was impatient to taste it. It was a breakfast for a king. I
had heard much of the excellence of bears’ feet, but could not have
conceived that an animal so awkward, so material as the elephant, could
have afforded so tender, so delicate a meat. Never have our modern
Luculluses, thought I, seen any thing comparable upon their tables; it
is in vain that they confound and reverse the seasons by the force of
gold, and lay all the countries in the world under contribution: there
are bounds to their craving sensuality; they have never been able
to reach this point.” I do not see, however, what should prevent our
rearing elephants, as we rear sheep and oxen, for the slaughter; in
which case many persons, not ambitious of rivalling Lucullus in luxury,
might enjoy the sight of this _ne plus ultra_ of cooking upon their
tables.
In proceeding eastward from this spot they encountered a horde of
wandering Hottentots, with whose women our traveller’s followers, now
considerably increased in number, contracted connexions with that
easy effrontery which, at first consideration, would appear to be an
attribute peculiar to civilized man. Le Vaillant is the apologist
of the Hottentots; they were the instruments of his pleasure. His
imagination associated them with romantic wanderings, with adventures,
with dangers, with escapes; and when, after his return to France, he
wished to remember and paint them in their true colours, the idea
that they had been his companions, that they had suffered privations,
and tasted of many enjoyments together, rushed into his mind, and
blinded his judgment by interesting his heart. This natural result
is not dishonourable to his feelings; but it can have no influence
with me. I have received from them neither good nor harm. I must,
therefore, confess that in my estimation they rank very low, even in
the scale of savage excellence. Timid even to cowardliness, they are
not urged by their temperament towards violence and bloodshed: but
this induces cringing and dastardly habits, and causes them to desert
their dearest friends when in danger. Gratitude is a plant which
flourishes only in noble breasts. Among the Hottentots it is feeble
and shortlived, unless nourished by a constant stream of benefits.
That they have little religion, or superstition, though no proof of
immorality, is an incontrovertible evidence of want of capacity and
genius; for intellect, wherever it exists, is skilful in the discovery
of intellect, and few, even among savage nations, are cursed with
perceptions so obtuse that they cannot, if I may venture so to express
myself, discover the footsteps of the sovereign intellect among the
phenomena of the visible world. How far the profound indifference in
which they are said to grovel on this point may exist, however, I will
not presume to determine. It is possible that travellers may sometimes
make these and similar savages the interpreters of their own thoughts.
On approaching the country of the Kaffers, a brave and warlike people,
exceedingly hostile to the Hottentots, whom they regarded as the slaves
and spies of the colonists, the most terrible apprehensions were
awakened in his camp. Night and day they were on the alert. Every sound
which startled the darkness was transformed, by their terror, into the
footsteps of a Kaffer; and if they did not at once burst into open
mutiny against their chief, it was rather the fear of the dangers to
which the loss of him might expose them, than any ideas of discipline
or fidelity, that restrained them.