[Illustration: CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL
OF
POPULAR
LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART.
Fourth Series
CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS.
NO. 733. SATURDAY, JANUARY 12, 1878. PRICE 1½_d._]
THE JUBILEE SINGERS.
One of the most interesting and vivid of our recollections is that
of witnessing some scenes in negro slavery in the United States, now
upwards of twenty years ago--very nearly the close of the iniquity;
but of that nobody was aware. There was a novelty in seeing fairly
dressed men and women brought out for sale by public auction, and
in observing how the persons who came to buy carefully examined the
men's hands and the flexibility of their fingers, looked into their
mouths to make sure of their teeth, and having effected a removal of
the coats and shirts, scanned the bare backs to discover whether they
had suffered by the lash. Just as in buying horses in a market, it
was quite a business affair; and what was a little surprising, the
unfortunate objects of this degrading exhibition took all in good part.
But what else could they do? In the grasp of power, they knew that
resistance was worse than useless. Close by were cow-hide whips handled
by heartless ruffians voraciously chewing tobacco, as if to keep up
the proper inspiration of brutality. Across the way was seen an ugly
brick building inscribed with the word JAIL, in tall black letters on
a white ground, to which establishment, in case of remonstrance, the
poor wretches would have been instantly marched for punishment. Doom
hopeless!
The equanimity, and indeed the good-humour, with which these blacks
seemed to endure their fate, indicated, we thought, good points
of character. Nowhere in travelling about did we observe anything
positively disagreeable, to remind us that the labourers in the fields
or the loiterers at doorways were slaves. Often, we heard singing
and jollity, as if light-heartedness was on the whole predominant.
Obviously, slave-owners were not all Legrees. On the contrary, in
many instances they shewed a kind indulgence to their ‘servants,’ as
they called them, and were pleased to see them singing, laughing, and
making merry in the intervals of rest from labour. Perhaps this is not
saying much, for the singing of slaves may be compared to the notes
of a bird in captivity, to be admired, but pitied. Anyway, there was
a disposition to seek solacement in the outpouring of song. If not
intellectually brilliant, the negro is naturally vivacious. Even when
he grows old, he is still something of a boy, with an inherent love of
frolic. He is clever in picking up tunes, and one of the complaints
which we heard against him in a free state was that if not looked
after by his master, he would continually go out to entertainments and
dance all night. A curious result of the taste for music has been the
creation of what are known as negro melodies; partly suggested by old
English airs, and by the psalm and hymn tunes that had been heard at
church or in the devotional exercises of missionaries. With a blended
simplicity and oddity, the negro airs which have gained currency are
wonderfully harmonious and touching. The time is well marked, shewing
correctness of ear, and accordingly the pieces, however eccentric
in language, are well adapted for singing in harmony by a number of
voices. From the performances of the ‘Christy Minstrels,’ as they
are usually designated--white men with blackened faces imitative of
negroes--people will have a pretty good idea of the melodies we speak
of; but we should say that the real thing is to be obtained only from a
band of genuine negroes, who for some years have been travelling about,
and who style themselves the Jubilee Singers. Of these we want to say
something.
As is well known, the abolition of slavery in the United States was
no deliberate act of national justice and humanity, but took place
in consequence of a proclamation issued by President Lincoln in the
exigency of the civil war in 1862. Without preparation for freedom,
over four millions of slaves were thrown on their own resources. They
could work, but comparatively few of them could read; for it had been
hitherto penal to teach them. Considering their state of ignorance, and
the good grounds they generally had for resenting past treatment, they
behaved with a singular degree of moderation. What, however, was to be
done with such a mass of illiterates, unaccustomed to self-reliance,
and who, even if desirous of being taught, had no means of being so?
Here comes in a bright feature of the Anglo-Saxon and Christian-minded
North. Within six months of the close of the war, societies of
benevolent individuals sprang up to extend the blessings of elementary
education to hordes of negroes; and in which movement ladies
appropriately took part. In the confusion and rankling animosities
that prevailed in the South, the efforts to uplift the negro by
means of schools were heroic, often dangerous, and always attended
with difficulty. There was likewise much good done by the American
Missionary Association. Schools, academies, and preaching stations
were at length established in quarters where they were most needed. To
complete the organisation of humanising influences, some thoughtful
individuals struck out the idea of establishing a University for the
higher education of the freed people, and training them to go forth as
ministers and teachers, as well as leaders in various departments of
civil life.
It was easier to conceive this brilliant idea than to bring it to
a practical issue. Where was the money to come from to build a
University, to equip it properly, and to pay for professors? There
would even be a difficulty in finding a site, for few land-owners in
a central situation would be willing to promote the elevation of the
coloured races. The history of the way in which these preliminary
difficulties were overcome is about as interesting a narrative as we
ever read. Immense spirit and ingenuity were developed in bringing the
scheme into shape. Without saying what it was for, a suitable site was
procured at the price of sixteen thousand dollars, near Nashville, the
capital of Tennessee. There were already a few frame-buildings on the
spot, which were employed to accommodate a school, as a beginning of
the proposed educational operations. The institution was called the
Fisk University, in honour of General Clinton B. Fisk, who had taken
a warm interest in the undertaking. The establishment was opened in
January 1866.
By-and-by the school, or we might say schools, throve. Thousands of
negroes were taught by a band of eager teachers, some of whom only a
short time before did not know one letter from another. There was an
honest enthusiasm in the whole affair that brought with it the blessing
of success. Again we are called on to note what good is often done by
the quiet unprompted and unselfish energy of a single individual. About
the time when the Fisk University was organised, there cast up a young
man named White, who, looking about for a means of livelihood, took up
the profession of teacher. He was the son of a village blacksmith in
the state of New York, had fought in several battles during the war,
and made himself useful in connection with the Freedman's Bureau at
Nashville. He had a special taste for vocal music, with which he amused
his leisure hours, and this accomplishment along with good business
habits, made him very acceptable as a coadjutor in the University.
White started a singing class among the negroes, male and female, who
came to get lessons in reading; and, pleased with their aptitude, he
fell upon the bold plan of drilling them as a choir of singers, who
should travel through the Northern cities in the hope of gathering
money to help the University funds. Getting his band into trim, he set
out with them on a musical excursion in October 1871, carrying with
them the good wishes of all, from the Principal of the institution
downwards.
In our own country, the getting up of a university, or even the
enlargement of one, is ordinarily a serious affair. Unless some wealthy
person has bequeathed money for the purpose, government is worried
for grants, and the public are worried for subscriptions. Keeping
proceedings of this kind in view, one can hardly fail to be amused
with the novel and heroic notion entertained by a dozen simple-minded
negroes in trying to collect fifty to a hundred thousand pounds
for a University by mere dint of singing a few simple hymns, which
illustrious dons of the musical profession would only laugh at. Yet,
this is what was attempted. Led by White as general manager, and by
Miss Wells, who took the oversight of the girls of the party, the
negroes went on their way, poorly clothed, and with barely means to
pay for a night's lodging. We observe by the history given of them,
that they trusted a good deal to kind treatment from Congregational
and other churches. They got the gratuitous use of chapels for their
concerts, or what were termed ‘praise services,’ and when they became
known, engagements freely poured in upon them. The sweetness of the
voices, the accuracy of the execution, the precision of the time,
and the wild simplicity of the words, astonished the audiences who
listened to them; the wonder being of course augmented by the fact of
their colour and the knowledge that only a few years ago these singers
had been slaves. Although generally well received, they had at first
numerous difficulties to encounter. The expense of travelling from town
to town was considerable. To give a distinctive character to their
enterprise, they assumed the name of Jubilee Singers, significant of
their emancipation in 1862, as the year of negro jubilee!
Their first eminent successes were at New York, Boston, and in
Connecticut. The good-will of the people took the shape not only
of money contributions, but of articles to furnish their proposed
University. A firm at Boston made them a present of a thousand dollar
organ. The singing campaign of three months over the principal parts
of the Northern states yielded, after paying all expenses, the sum of
twenty thousand dollars. The company were received at the University
with joy and thanksgiving--a prodigious triumph for White, the planner
and conductor of the expedition.
Encouraged by this success, a second campaign followed, and the result
was another sum of twenty thousand dollars, making forty thousand
that had now been secured. In this expedition, the party encountered
various caste prejudices. Halls were refused to them; at some
railway stations they were treated with indignity, and hotel-keepers
declined to give them accommodation. At one hotel where the keeper
received them, all the waiters deserted their posts, and the Jubilee
Singers waited on themselves and blackened their own boots. These
misadventures were taken with good-humour. Having so far done well
within American territory, the party resolved to try their fortune
in Great Britain, for which purpose they were favoured with letters
of introduction likely to advance their enterprise. Curiously enough,
cabin accommodation was refused to the party by one after another of
the leading ocean steamship lines. At last they were received on board
one of the Cunard steamers, and safely and agreeably landed in England.
The letters of introduction worked marvels. We are to contemplate the
Jubilee Singers one May afternoon in 1873, at Willis's Rooms, giving
a private concert to a select body of individuals, by invitation of
the Earl of Shaftesbury and a Committee of the Freedman's Aid Society.
There was a distinguished assemblage; the singers did their best, and
all were delighted. The Duke and Duchess of Argyll were foremost in
expressing a desire to promote the object of the party, and arranged
for a visit of the singers to Argyll Lodge the next day. This visit to
Argyll Lodge was a notable event. The Queen, who is always foremost
in works of intelligent benevolence, graciously attended for a short
time, and listened with manifest pleasure to the hymns which the
singers had learned in bondage. Her Majesty in departing, communicated
through the Duke her thanks for the gratification she had received.
These preliminary efforts insured to the Jubilee Singers a wide round
of popularity. Hospitable invitations poured in upon them from persons
of literary and political distinction. Among the most pleasurable
of these invitations was one to breakfast from Mr Gladstone, then
prime-minister, by whom they were cordially received. After breakfast,
the singers entertained the company with their wonderful music. The
intense feeling with which they sang _John Brown_, with the refrain--
John Brown died that the slave might be free,
electrified the audience; and ‘never,’ said a spectator, ‘shall I
forget Mr Gladstone's rapt enthusiastic attention. His form was bent
forward, his eyes were riveted; all the intellect and soul of his great
nature seemed expressed in his countenance; and when they had finished,
he kept saying: “Isn't it wonderful? I never heard anything like it!”’
After spending three months in London, the Jubilee Singers proceeded
to give a round of concerts in the principal towns of England and
Scotland; being everywhere well received by large and appreciative
audiences. Financially, the excursion was eminently successful.
Nearly ten thousand pounds had been raised for the Fisk University,
besides special gifts for the purchase of philosophical apparatus, and
donations of books for the library. The money collected first and last
by the singers now amounted to about twenty thousand pounds, which
went a considerable way towards the building of the University, which
assumed shape and was opened in 1875. To reinforce the funds, another
visit to Great Britain was determined on. We cannot go into an account
of this second visit; it is enough to say that the singers again made
their appearance in all the principal towns of England and Scotland,
and were able to take back the sum of ten thousand pounds; making in
all as a result of their labours the sum of thirty thousand. Since
this time, the party have made various excursions, always increasing
the funds for the erection of college buildings; but of the exact
particulars we have no account. One of the objects in view is to erect
a building called the Livingstone Missionary Hall, designed, as we
understand, for the special preparation of missionaries for Africa. The
latest statement we see on the subject is that the Jubilee Singers have
gone on a visit to Germany, to secure funds to complete this building
and further equip the University for missionary work.
The vicissitudes of travelling at home and abroad during several years
led to changes in the company of singers. When members were obliged to
retire, others equally qualified took their place. At different times
twenty-four persons in all have belonged to the company. All of them
have been slaves or of slave parentage. Excepting a few mulattoes,
all have been of a pure negro type; and their respective histories
offer some interesting facts concerning the condition of people of
colour in the slave states up till the period of general emancipation.
It is gratifying to know that the extraordinary change of life from
privation and contumely to comfort and public respect has not uplifted
the feelings, or materially altered the habits of the members of
the corps. In their moral and religious obligations they have ever
been irreproachable. We are told that none of them uses tobacco; and
their English friends, whose hospitalities have been so abundant, are
equally surprised, if not gratified, to find that they are inveterate
abstainers from alcoholic liquors. Considering the temptations and
buffetings of their early life, there is not a little to admire in the
conduct as well as in the accomplishments of the several individuals
composing the party. The energetic yet modest way they have acquitted
themselves in the routine of the very peculiar duties imposed on them,
is probably not often met with in parties of higher pretensions.
We have now in brief told the story of the Jubilee Singers, and
it is more than ordinarily remarkable. A handful of freed negro
slaves undertaking by voluntary efforts to collect funds wherewith
to establish and support a University, having for its object the
higher education of the coloured population in the United States.
The enterprise has had no parallel. These negroes do not beg, nor do
they trouble people for subscriptions. They only try to raise funds
by the exercise of their talents in an honest line of industry, by
communicating pleasure to countless audiences. Amidst the frauds
and commercial rascalities of pompous pretenders that are becoming
a scandal to the age, the unselfish and noble endeavours of these
humble melodists stand out in marked contrast, as something to applaud
and to redeem human nature. The marvel of the enterprise has been
its universal success. High and low are equally pleased. Professing
no particular knowledge in music, but yielding to none in an ardent
admiration of the simpler class of national ballads and songs, we have
listened to the melodies of the Jubilee Singers with heartfelt delight.
Whether with or without instrumental accompaniment, the melodies might
be described as supplying a new relish. It has been remarked that the
greater number of the pieces are in the same scale as that in which
Scottish music is written, with the fourth and seventh tones omitted.
This would only indicate the untutored nature of their origin, and
the wonder is greater at the effects produced. Nothing is left for
us to add but an advice to our readers. It is, to take the earliest
opportunity to go and hear the JUBILEE SINGERS.
W. C.
HELENA, LADY HARROGATE.
CHAPTER II.--AT CARBERY CHASE.
The horseman, at whose approach the interesting inmate of _The
Traveller's Rest_ had so abruptly withdrawn from the place of
observation whence he was contemplating the Elizabethan front of
Carbery Court, had scarcely recognised in the lounger smoking his pipe
beneath the elm, the bronzed seafaring fellow whom he had frequently
of late encountered. But as the man moved off with hasty step and an
evident dislike to observation, the rider's eyes for a moment followed
him.
‘A queer customer that,’ he said carelessly to himself. ‘What is he, I
wonder? If I saw that ugly face of his near Ashdown Park or Newmarket
Heath, I'd lay a trifle that he was a racing tout; in London I would
class him as a dog-dealer or dog-stealer, or possibly a sham smuggler,
one of those gruff longshore-men who waylay you with their contraband
cabbage-leaf _Trabucos_; but being here, I think he has more the look
of a real one.’
Having said which, he rode on, in the quiet enjoyment of a cigar,
towards the material of which it is unlikely that the leaf of any
British vegetable had contributed; while no sound but the jingling of
the bridle-rein and the tramp of the horse's feet broke the silence.
Overhead there soared aloft a living canopy of verdure, formed by
the mighty trees, that seemed to throw, as it were, a succession of
triumphal arches over the smooth carriage-road, flecked with broad bars
of light and shadow. There were vistas here and there, opening out
from between the massive trees, on which an artist's eye might have
feasted, dells clothed with beech and birch trees, fairy glens through
which trickled some brooklet fresh from its cradle among the ridges of
Dartmoor, pools on which the water-lily floated, and around which the
deer bent down their antlered heads to drink. But Jasper Denzil had
little or no appreciation of the charms of a landscape, and as he rode
on, the only comment which escaped him was evoked by the sight of the
superb old house, its many windows glistening golden in the sloping
sun, as though to challenge admiration.
‘Tiresome old jail!’ he said, tossing away the stump of his cigar. ‘A
nice place to be mewed up in, with the London season at high-pressure,
is this! If it were mine to do as I liked with’---- But the only son
and heir of Sir Sykes Denzil did not definitely state the course that
he should pursue were he undisputed proprietor of Carbery Chase.
Jasper, whose actual age may have been six or at the most seven and
twenty, was one of those men of whom it is puzzling to say whether
they look, for their years, very youthful or surprisingly old. He was
below the middle height, and his smooth pale face seemed at first
sight almost boyish; but the cold glance of the small blue eyes, the
firmness of the compressed lips, and the tell-tale lines that were
faintly visible at the angles of both eyes and mouth, were not such as
we associate with ingenuous youth.
Captain Denzil (Jasper had at an early age attained, thanks to the
golden ladder by which the offspring of wealthy men were wont to climb,
his captaincy in the light cavalry regiment to which he had till
recently belonged) had proved himself an expensive son to Sir Sykes.
His fair moustache, pallid face, and drawling accent were well known on
race-courses, and quite familiar in those darkened rooms at fashionable
clubs where the fickle goddess Chance is worshipped by card-players
around their lamp-lit green tables, while it is honest daylight in the
workaday world beyond.
He rode into the yard and dismounted; but instead of immediately
entering the house, lingered to exchange a thoughtful word or two as
to the signs of an incipient spavin in the off fore-leg of the fiery
chestnut which he had been riding.
‘Knew he wasn't sound of course, when I bought him,’ remarked the
captain, with calm philosophy. ‘A friend's horse never is, especially
when the friend is such an impulsive open-hearted fellow as Charley
Granger. But he was cheap, and he has a turn of speed, and I've entered
him for the Pebworth Steeplechase, and don't want to pay forfeit. So
see to the bandages, Phillips, will you; and don't have him out, except
for gentle exercise on the soft, this fortnight. We mustn't neglect
that leg.’
Jasper was not one of those who care for a horse, as some of us do, for
the horse's own sake, and out of genuine love for the noblest of the
dumb servants that do the bidding of mankind. But he did regard the
genus _equus_ as a very valuable instrument for gambling purposes, and
as such to be tended with jealous care and helped, when convenient, to
victory on the turf.
With a slow step and a careless indolent manner, Jasper Denzil crossed
the paved yard, and entered by a side-door the mansion that must
one day in the course of nature be his, but of which as a place of
residence we have already heard him express an opinion the reverse
of flattering. There was very little at Carbery Chase to amuse the
captain, cut off from his usual sources of excitement and a temporary
exile from London and its pleasures. It was sorry work this pottering
business of picking up a few ten-pound bets on country courses, or
winning paltry stakes by the aid of wretched platers. It was better
than nothing no doubt; precisely as at Monaco we see the ruined
millionaire, Spanish or Russian, eagerly playing for silver when his
last rouleaux of louis-d'or have taken wing; but he felt that it was
a sore degradation for one whose dash and coolness had won dubious
compliments from very great personages.
Traversing a passage, Jasper presently crossed the great hall--full
of costly marbles brought from Italy, in days when there were no
manufacturers of the spurious antique--and opened the door of what was
known as the morning-room, cheerful and bright as a morning-room should
be, and overlooking the rose-garden, then glorious in its glow and
blush of tender colour.
Two ladies were the occupants of the room, both young and both pretty,
though each of them had that likeness to Jasper (her only brother)
which we so constantly trace in members of the same family. Lucy it
is true was dark-haired and dark-eyed; while Blanche, the younger and
taller of the two, was delicately--perhaps too delicately--fair of
complexion, and had hair of the palest gold. Sir Sykes had been for
several years a widower; and all the Denzil family, with the exception
of the baronet himself, were now present in that room, through the
French windows of which came stealing in the fresh scent of roses.
‘I saw you, Jasper, from the pheasantry, as you came up the park; but
you did not see me,’ said Miss Denzil, smiling. ‘You did not stay,
then, to see the finish of the Pebworth cricket-match?’
‘I--no!’ answered Jasper with a yawn. ‘Cricket is amusing, I daresay,
to those who knock the ball about, or to those who run to pick it up
again, as the French countess said of our noble national game; but it
is slow--fearfully slow.’ And the captain yawned again.
‘Most things are, I am afraid, at Carbery,’ said Blanche gently.--‘We
have tried to amuse him--have we not, Lucy?--by dragging him with
us to such primitive merry-makings as lay within driving distance,
archery-meetings, flower-shows’----
‘Yes, and all manner of Arcadian entertainments of the same species,’
interrupted Jasper, drumming with his ringed fingers on the glass of
the open window near which he was standing. ‘I believe I had a narrow
escape from what they called a sillabub party at that old woman's (Lady
Di Horner's) house at Ottery St Luke's, with a cow on the lawn and the
rest of it. The natives, I suppose, like that kind of thing; I don't.’
There was a half-peevish lassitude in his tone, in his attitude, as he
spoke, which added emphasis to words that were, if ungracious, perhaps
not unkindly meant. But his sisters were not in the least offended that
their brother should shew so unaffectedly how little pleasure he took
in their society, and how complete was his distaste for their simple
pleasures and homely occupations. A grown-up brother is, in the eyes
of good girls, a hero by right of birth, and with Lucy and Blanche the
captain was a privileged person, not to be judged by the standards of
ordinary ethics.
‘If the governor,’ said Jasper, after a pause, ‘would ask people down
here--I mean of course after town is empty--a houseful of people of
the right sort, why then, one might get through the autumn and winter
without being moped to death.’
Lucy shook her head. ‘There is no chance, brother,’ she said, ‘that
papa should fill his house with what you would consider people of the
right sort. The Vanes will come of course, and the Henshaws, and’----
‘Never mind the rest of the names,’ broke in the captain with a lazy
brusqueness; ‘heavy county members, who know more of the points of
a bullock than they do of those of a horse; and their fat wives and
starched daughters. What have I done, to be buried alive in this way!’
Women have this merit, that they seldom retort, as they might sometimes
do with crushing effect, upon a man who bewails his hard lot, be
his self-pity ever so unreasonable. Lucy and Blanche Denzil knew,
or guessed, with tolerable accuracy that it was due to Jasper's own
extravagance that he no longer wore the gay trappings of a captain
of Lancers, and that the soles of his varnished boots were no longer
familiar with the Pall-Mall pavement.
‘I'll go in and see my father; he's in the library, I suppose?’ said
Jasper, and without waiting for an answer, he sauntered off.
Sir Sykes Denzil was a man of methodical habits, and his son's
conjecture that he would be found at that hour in the library was
quite warranted, not only by fact, but by his daily practice. On
his way thither the young man passed by the suite of drawing-rooms,
only the smallest of which was ever used, save on the occasions, not
too frequent, when some great dinner-party or possibly a dance at
Carbery Chase set all the neighbouring lanes and roads aglow with
carriage-lamps. With all its splendour, the Court was what might be
described as a dull house; the master of which had never made the most,
even for selfish purposes, of his large share in the good things of
this world.
The library, Sir Sykes's favourite room, was a stately apartment, with
gilt cornices and a richly painted ceiling. It overlooked the stone
terrace whereon, amidst statues and marble vases overbrimming with
scarlet geraniums, the peacocks strutted. The great central window was
of ancient stained glass, and from its quaint panes in their leaden
setting flashed forth the lost colours of the blue and crimson, deemed
inimitable for centuries past, but which probably owed their peculiar
beauty to the corroding touch of time. This window, of which honourable
mention was made in the county guide-book aforesaid, glimmered with
heraldic blazonry, wherein the couchant greyhounds of the present
owners of Carbery found no place.
The baronet, who was seated at his writing-table, strewn with papers,
looked up as he heard the opening of the door, and greeted his son
with rather a conventional smile of recognition. ‘So you are back with
us earlier than usual, Jasper,’ he said, in a tone that was polite,
but scarcely cordial. The young man's voice, as usual with him when
he addressed his father, had lost much of the languid insolence which
habit had rendered natural to him.
‘Yes, sir; I don't care much for cricket, so I did not stay to see the
end of it. So far as I could hear, the Zingari were beating the County
hollow. But as I said before, that style of thing is not much in my
line.’
‘Better for you, my boy, if it had been,’ returned the baronet dryly.
‘A young fellow cannot break his health or ruin his fortunes at
cricket, as more fashionable pastimes may help him to do.’
The captain winced and reddened. ‘I didn't expect a lecture, father,’
he said peevishly. ‘Indeed I'm not likely to forget the crasher I came
down with, that my misfortunes should be thrown in my teeth every day I
live.’
‘We will let the subject drop,’ said the baronet after a momentary
pause. ‘Who were at Pebworth to-day? No lack of company, I suppose? Our
friends hereabouts are not all as complete cosmopolitans as you are,
Jasper; and some of the ladies at anyrate may have gone there in hopes
of seeing Devon win the game.’
Jasper half sullenly made answer that he could scarcely say who were
there. ‘Fulfords and Courtenays and the Carews, and the people from
Prideaux Park, yes; and the De Vere girls, and Harrogate their brother.
The old Earl wasn't there, and the ladies went on horseback.’
‘Lady Gladys looks well on horseback,’ observed Sir Sykes with a
sidelong glance at his son.
‘Yes; and rides nicely,’ answered Jasper with an air of the most utter
indifference; and then the eyes of the father and the son met, not
frankly, but as the eyes of two wary fencing-masters might do at the
instant of crossing swords. Sir Sykes and Jasper were not, so far as
outward seeming went, in the least alike. The common attribute of
worldliness they did indeed share, but neither in looks nor in manner
did they resemble each other. The baronet was a tall and handsome
man, whose dark hair was now dashed with gray, and his high forehead
deeply lined, but who still presented to the eyes of the world a showy
exterior and a bearing that was at once dignified and urbane. That he
was not in perfect health could only be conjectured from the slowness
of his step, and those faintly marked furrows near the corners of the
shapely mouth, in which a shrewd physician might have read of mischief
silently at work; but to unprofessional scrutiny he appeared simply as
a gentleman of a goodly presence.
A melancholy man, albeit a proud and a courteous one, Sir Sykes was
known to be. And singularly enough, the baronet's sadness was supposed
to date from the day when he had lost, long years ago, the eldest of
his three daughters, a little girl to whom he was rumoured to have
been unusually attached. This was the odder, because Sir Sykes was
not the sort of man who is generally credited with very deep feelings
or a peculiar strength of family affection. He had borne his wife's
decease with polished equanimity; but those who had known him in his
early poverty and in his subsequent prosperity averred that the lord of
Carbery had never been the same man since the death of this child.
‘I wish,’ said Sir Sykes, speaking slowly, and poising a gold-hafted
paper-knife between his soft white fingers--‘I wish I could see you
married and settled.’
‘The settling, if, as I suppose, it means the making of a suitable
settlement, makes the main impediment to marrying, with some of us at
least,’ rejoined Jasper with mock gravity; but before his father could
reply, a servant entered bringing a letter. Sir Sykes mechanically took
up the letter from the silver tray and as mechanically opened it. But
his eyes had hardly glanced at the first half-page before a great and
sudden change came over his calm face; he grew white, almost livid, to
his very lips, and let his hand which held the open letter drop heavily
upon the table.
‘Are you ill, sir?’ said Jasper quickly and with a sort of anxiety
unusual with him. It was impossible to avoid taking notice of the
baronet's very evident emotion; impossible too not to connect the cause
of it with the letter which Sir Sykes held in his hand. But the master
of Carbery Chase rallied himself, and though his face was even ghastly
in its pallor and his breath came painfully, he managed to smile as he
rejoined: ‘Not ill. It is a mere pain, a spasm at most, which comes at
times, but goes as quickly, or nearly so, as it comes. It is a trifle,
not worth the talking about. It is getting late, and I have a note or
two to write and some papers to look over before the dressing-bell
rings. We shall meet at dinner presently.’
Jasper rose to go. ‘I hardly like’---- he began.
‘I am better; I am well; it is nothing,’ interrupted Sir Sykes
irritably; and then blandly added: ‘I thank you, my dear boy, for your
solicitude, but I am best alone.’
Jasper had not proceeded two paces along the carpeted corridor before
he heard the key of the library door turned from within.
‘I'd give a cool hundred,’ said this exemplary youth, ‘to look over
my father's shoulder as he reads that letter. To have a hold on the
governor would’---- He left the rest of the sentence unspoken, and
passed on, leaving Sir Sykes in the locked-up library to the company of
his own solitary thoughts.
TIGER-SHOOTING.
Tiger-shooting in India differs a trifle from the tame pursuit of
game in England--a very different thing indeed from the miserable
amusement of the _battue_, in which hundreds of defenceless creatures
are shot down without any chance of danger to the shooter. To go out
tiger-shooting is to run the risk of encountering a deadly enemy, which
on grounds of public policy it is of importance to destroy. So much as
a preliminary observation.
The danger connected with tiger-shooting varies very much in proportion
to the conditions under which it is prosecuted. Thus a man on foot
following the fresh tracks of a tiger up to his lair, and shooting
him as he lies, or following him up on foot when wounded, incurs the
maximum risk. In all cases, after being wounded, ungovernable fury and
a fierce longing for revenge take the place of that instinctive fear
or shyness of man which tigers share with all other wild animals. This
instinctive dread of man is so well known to the tribes who inhabit the
forests of India, that even solitary individuals will hail the prospect
of suddenly encountering a tiger, provided, of course, that he is not a
man-eater. They know their safety at such a moment lies in preserving a
composed attitude and demeanour. The tiger will often yield the right
of way; but if the human subject finds it necessary to set that example
in the way of politeness, he knows it to be absolutely essential to the
preservation of his life that he should do so with every appearance
of self-possession, and without any signs of fear or precipitancy.
A passage in _King Richard III._ accurately reflects the line of
conduct which should be observed, holding good as it does equally with
reference to the tiger:
To fly the boar, before the boar pursues,
Were to incense the boar to follow us,
And make pursuit where he did mean no chase.
In proportion to the successful days, the number of blank days in
tiger-shooting is extraordinarily large, as the experience of most
shikarees will confirm. This is owing to ‘hanks’ or beats being so
often badly planned or mismanaged; through which tigers escape which
might otherwise have easily been brought to book. The dry and denuded
state of an Indian jungle during the hot weather makes that the most
fitting season for tiger-shooting. Indeed it is the only season in
which the sport can be undertaken with a reasonable prospect of
success. The available covers for a tiger are then much reduced in
number and extent; and in the inverse ratio are the chances increased
of the animal's not betaking himself to some distant locality before
the plan of action which is intended to effect his destruction has
had time to develop itself. In other words, any faint and accidental
signs of a disturbance in a tiger's vicinity will rouse him from his
lair, and drive him to green patch or snug retreat miles away, if the
weather be cool and cover abundant; whereas with very hot weather and
extensive denudation of shade, he will prefer remaining where he is
until the sounds assume too decided a character to be mistaken; when
the probabilities are that the sportsman will be perfectly ready on his
making a move.
The great point to remember in arranging to hunt a tiger is that one
of his most prominent characteristics is cunning--and that this _must
be met by cunning_. This is not sufficiently studied, especially by
beginners. Eager and enthusiastic for the fray, and for the thrill
of satisfaction which the all-important moment of the actual kill
inspires, the inexperienced sportsman is too apt to overlook those
precautions and preparations which are essential aids to success; or
he relies upon others for doing in the above respects what he should
attend to himself. The first thing to be done on arriving at the ground
where a tiger has safely been marked down by the early despatched
scouts is to acquaint one's self thoroughly with its topography. The
nature of the ground varies very much; consisting sometimes of a pile
of rocks rising from a plain, of a confused mass of hills, or of a
large single hill, a river or small water-course stocked with green
bushes, and with level jungle or perhaps open ground bordering on both
sides; and so on. On being roused from his lair in say a water-course
by the beaters, a tiger is very likely to cross over into the jungle,
especially if another ravine is not far off to which he can retire. He
does so with the express object of getting rid of his disturbers as
soon as possible; or let us say that instinct tells him that an entire
change of locality is most conducive to his safety. On the other hand,
if there be no adjoining cover, a tiger will keep to the same channel
and steal along its course. The difference between the two cases
represents the comparative prospect of a tiger being bagged. When a
tiger is compelled to steal along the channel from which he has been
roused, the prospect becomes nearly a certainty, assuming the ‘hank’ to
be conducted in a correct manner.
A very slight noise, such as slight coughing, will sometimes start
a tiger; while he will at other times refuse to move, although even
shots should be fired into the bush or among the rocks where he may
be lying concealed. As Colonel Rice, late of the Bombay army, very
justly remarks in his book entitled _Tiger-shooting in India_--and the
writer's own experience is entirely corroborative of that statement--no
two tigers can be depended on for behaving exactly alike under the
same circumstances. An old tiger, and especially one which has been
hunted before, is extremely wary, and very difficult to circumvent
with even good management; while a young one readily falls a victim,
like any other greenhorn. A tigress with young cubs is always very
savage, and will sometimes charge anybody approaching her den or other
resting-place before her own presence is at all suspected. Three men
in the service of the writer were once obliged to take refuge on a
rock only some six or seven feet high, where an angry tigress bayed
them, and repeatedly threatened to charge home for at least two hours.
One of the men was armed with a sword, and the other two had nothing
but sticks in their hands. The tigress crouched at the very foot of
the rock, which was small but flat-topped, over and over again. She
there alternately blinked and glared at the unfortunate men, who only
succeeded in keeping her off from actually springing on them by dint
of vigorous and incessant shouting, and constantly changing front,
according as the tigress herself kept moving from one side of the rock
to another, and occasionally retiring a few paces, and then stealing
forward and crouching again. The state of their throats and the
terribly husky whisper to which their voices were in the end reduced,
may easily be imagined. However, down to their humblest followers,
hunters as a rule are a merry set, and directly actual danger has
passed away the danger is forgotten.
In large covers there are often outlets and lines of exit, in addition
to those guarded by a party of say four or five sportsmen, who post
themselves at the most important points. These all require to be
blocked up, so that a tiger, should he attempt to escape by any of
them, may be readily turned on to a path which will draw him under
fire. One of the covers in which the writer was fortunate enough to
bag several tigers in different years, consisted of a river of about a
hundred and fifty yards width, with ravines branching out at different
points, and low hills bordering the banks. It was impracticable
with fewer than a hundred men, and was best driven by elephants, in
consequence of the thick and tangled state of the bushes. It was a
piece of ground of the kind described above, offering numerous outlets,
as the cover extended right under one of the banks, and ran for some
distance along the length of the river; while the bank itself was
of no great height, and might be ascended in a moment at any point.
The method of blocking up the outlets which the sportsmen themselves
cannot watch, is to place over them, on trees, the sharpest and most
intelligent of the men that can be selected from among the beaters.
They should be instructed to strike the tree with a stone taken up in
the hand for that purpose, or to employ any other simple process of
producing a noise, so that the tiger may be headed back the moment he
is seen to be advancing, and his intention is unmistakable. A blank
shot will be necessary to turn a _rapidly_ advancing tiger; and a
matchlock or spare gun in the hands of a competent person should in
such cases be kept in reserve. Many of the rivers in India during the
hunting season are perfectly dry beds, except as to a mere rill or
narrow stream. The actual water's edge is, however, almost sure to be
the tiger's position, if fringed by bushes sufficiently large to afford
him shelter; for he delights in lapping the water frequently, and in
laving his limbs during the hottest hours of the day.
With respect to the height a tiger will clear at a bound or series of
bounds, some uncertainty seems to prevail. In Captain Shakspeare's
_Wild Sports of India_, the author, when twelve feet up a tree,
scarcely thought himself beyond the reach of the man-eater he was
expecting, as he believed a tiger capable of springing over that
height. In the book of Colonel Gordon Gumming (a brother of the African
hunter), a sad case is recorded of his gun-bearer being pulled out of
a tree and killed by a wounded tiger through incautiously standing
only some eight feet above the ground. But points of this nature are
altogether of a secondary character, the slightest vantage-ground being
sufficient if the requisites are preserved of a cool head and steady
hand to guide the management of an efficient weapon.
To the generality of tastes, the most satisfactory method of hunting
tigers is with and upon a well-trained elephant. But when the
arrangements are on a very extensive scale, they fail of anything like
due effect. On special occasions, elephants have been employed in the
hunting-field by the score, and also by the hundred, as in the case of
the Prince of Wales's excursions in Nepaul. A cordon of eight hundred
elephants was then employed to inclose a jungle and to drive the game
on to a central point; but the bag, though good, was disproportionately
small, looking to the means and labour employed. Better results might
have been obtained if the ground had been traversed in sections with
only a few elephants, though this would have required more time, which
probably could not be spared. The great object to be kept in view in
approaching a tiger for the purpose of obtaining a fair shot, is to do
as little as possible towards startling the beast until within a few
yards, even though obstructions such as bushes or rocks intervene; for
when once a ‘scare’ is excited, a tiger will break through an inclosing
line of elephants and probably escape altogether; whereas by being
quietly followed up with scouts previously sent forward to note and
telegraph his progress, the chances are all in favour of the sportsman.
In hilly tracts where the hills run in long ridges and are flanked
or intersected by ravines, as in Rajpootana, tiger-shooting may at
all times be conducted on foot with comparative safety. This was
successfully done by Colonel (then Lieutenant) Rice from twenty to
twenty-five years back. He never once employed an elephant, and treats
the notion of doing so with a certain amount of disdain. Confessing
to a desire to employ his rifle on the tigers in the island of
Singapore, which is (or certainly was) very much infested by them,
he remarks: ‘There the old notion prevails that without elephants
tigers are best let alone.’ Evidently the Colonel does not consider
the elephant a necessary adjunct to the sport, nor did he really find
it so. There can, however, be no question that in large swamps and
grass tracts, and in fact under all circumstances, an elephant is a
most powerful auxiliary, whose importance cannot be over-rated. If
trees and such positions are taken to meet the tiger when he first
breaks, the advantage of afterwards following him up on an elephant if
only wounded, is too obvious to need any comment. But it is of course
absolutely necessary that the elephant should be one which can be
depended on for making a firm stand before a tiger. The more steady the
elephant, the better the aim that can be taken; but the uninitiated
should know that there is always some slight oscillatory movement in
an elephant, so that a small though perhaps an infinitesimal measure
of calculation has to be applied in shooting from its back. From a
neglect of this necessity, tigers are sometimes missed at absurdly
close quarters, though there may be no actual change in the elephant's
position to account for the circumstance, and to justify the miss. On
the other hand, as sometimes happens, an elephant may very seriously
incommode or perhaps precipitate his rider to the ground, by actually
charging a tiger and dropping down on his knees, in order the better
to crush the foe. At the same time, an elephant that bolts jeopardises
his rider's life in a worse degree, by the reckless manner in which he
pursues his flight. Should the jungle consist of trees, there is almost
a certainty of the howdah being dashed up against them, or of its being
swept off by some projecting bough, which affords a clear passage to
the body of the elephant, but not to the howdah and those seated in it.
The latter, therefore, run a serious risk of being badly injured or of
losing their lives.
One important essential for the obtaining of sport is a liberal
expenditure of money. It both sweetens labour and smooths the path
to danger. To keep an elephant in prime hearty condition costs about
fifteen pounds a month, and good elephants may occasionally be borrowed
from native chiefs through the instrumentality of political officers;
but unless one has influence enough to insure his being thus favoured,
he should make up his mind to hunt on foot. Many men have done, and
still do so with the most satisfactory results; while with respect
to elephants, some special elements of risk exist, which prove fatal
entirely from a want of common forethought. Thus, an unfortunate
officer of one of Her Majesty's regiments serving in India ventured
into a jungle after a tiger, seated merely on the pad on which a howdah
is made to rest; he was thrown off, and fell into the jaws of the
enraged beast. A person seated in this manner is at any moment liable
to be thrown by a sudden swerve, and such an occurrence is extremely
likely when a tiger charges, or suddenly appears before an elephant.
The writer remembers an instance within his own experience of being
mounted on an elephant off whose back at least a hundred tigers had
at various times been killed, and which was therefore generally very
staunch, and of there being a second and third elephant on each side
of the first; yet on a panther very little bigger than a large cat
charging from a bush, the three elephants together turned in an instant
and ignominiously retreated for about a dozen yards. The shock of the
movement was so great that he was forced back on the seat from which he
had just risen the moment before, and must have infallibly been hurled
to the ground had he been seated on a pad only. It should therefore be
adopted as a rule never to be deviated from, that a tiger should not
be approached on an elephant otherwise than in a properly constructed
howdah.
But as a contrast to the behaviour of the panther above referred to, a
large tiger will sometimes altogether refuse to face an elephant, and
will retreat from point to point of a cover until he at last becomes an
easy victim; which shews in what extremely opposite lights the subject
requires to be looked at.
The duty of arranging a proper plan of attack upon a tiger in any
known position is sometimes delegated by the English sportsman to
his head native shikaree, who is qualified for that task both by a
certain aptitude and a considerable amount of experience; but the
best of such men are apt sometimes to fail, and close supervision of
them is consequently always necessary. Besides, they are generally
trained by those who have them in their service; and a long course of
association and reciprocal action between master and servant is needed
to produce an efficient henchman. It is therefore advisable for men
who are about to begin tiger-shooting to take their initiatory lessons
in jungle-craft under the guidance of some brother-sportsman, who can
be looked on as a sort of distinguished professor who has already
graduated with honours in his studies.
THE BELL-RINGER.
IN FOUR CHAPTERS.