THE MODERN
odyssey;I&or
^^ULYSSES^
UR%T(^DATE
Ex Libris
C. K. OGDEN
THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES
uauJ
THE MODERN ODYSSEY
ULYSSES UP TO DATE
The Modern Odyssey
OR
ULYSSES UP TO DATE
IVITH THIRTY-ONE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLLOTYPE
CASSELL & COMPANY Limited
LONDON PARIS &^ MELBOURNL
iSqi
[all rights RESERVED!
^7^
IS DEDICATED,
IN GRATEFUL REME.MBRANXE OE MANY PLEASANT DAYS
IN NEW SOUTH WALES,
Co
LADY CARRINGTON.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
Holyhead to Duklin i
CHAPTER n.
Random Notes from the Atlantic 6
CHAPTER HI.
A City of Perpetual Motion 19
CHAPTER IV.
Through Nine States to Chicago 44
CHAPTER V.
The Niagara Show ... 62
CHAPTER VI.
A Voyage on Inland Waters 67
CHAPTER VII.
The Canadian Pacific 83
CHAPTER VIII.
California, a Lost Jewel 98
viii Contents.
CHAPTER IX.
PAGE
Observations under the Hawaiian Flag 114
CHAPTER X.
A Voyage on the South Pacific 123
CPIAPTER XL
On the Shore of the Southern Ocean 152
CHAPTER Xn.
An Australian Vanity Fair 172
CHAPTER Xni.
Australian Democracy at Work and at Play 195
CHAPTER XIV.
The Barrier Reef and Malay Archipelago 206
CHAPTER XV.
A Glimpse of Cathay and Zipangu 222
CHAPTER XVI.
A P. and O. Log from Yokohama to Calcutta 248
CHAPTER XVII.
The City of Palaces 266
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Pilgrims' City 282
CHAPTER XIX.
The City of the Siege 295
Contents. ix
CHAPTER XX.
PACE
The City of the Moguls 308
CHAPTER XXI.
The City of Akbar 319
CHAPTER XXH.
Cloudcuckootown 332
CHAPTER XXni.
From Delhi to Bombay 339
CHAPTER XXIV.
The Arabian Gulf and the Red Sea 353
CHAPTER XXV.
The Land of the Delta ... ... 360
CHAPTER XXVI.
A'lHENS AND THE LEVANT 37S
CHAPTER XXVII.
On the Shoues of the Bosi'horus ... ... ... ... 411
CHAPTER XXVIII.
The Crimea 432
CH.\PTKR XXIX.
AcRcss Europe ... 446
LIST OF PLATES.
opposite page
Menai Straits •. 3
White Star Liner, "Teutonic" 6
Capitol at Washington 51
Ice Shove at Montreal 87
Seal Rocks at the Golden Gate 113
Waikiki 119
On the Avon, Christchurch, N.Z 143
Orient Liner, "Orient" 151
Cattle Mob in Australian Bush 171
River Scene, New South Wales 191
Leura Falls, Katoomha 193
Sydney Heads... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 207
Junks in Lye-ye-moon Pass, Hong Kong 223
Flower Pagoda, Canton 227
Castle of Osaka 235
Moat at Tokio 239
Fujiyama 248
Benares 2S7
Kaiserhagh 298
Great Imambara ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 300
A Reach of the Juelum 30S
T.\j Mahal .. 330
Amber ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 346
Public Buildings of Bombay ... .. .. ... ... 351
Citadel of Cairo ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 368
Pyramids of Giii/.lh t,-]},
ACROPlM.IS ... ... ... ... ... ... 388
Parthe.non 394
Mosque of Aii.med 414
Dolmabatchke 428
Therai'ia 430
PREFATORY NOTE.
The thanks of the Author are due to the Editors of the
Sf. James's Gazette and the Illustrated Sporting ajid Dramatic
JVeivs for their courtesy in allowing certain articles which had
appeared in those journals to be incorporated in these pages.
The following firms of photographers have kindly given
permission for their pictures to be reproduced : —
Messrs. Frith and Co., Reigate ;
Messrs. Valentine and Co., Dundee ;
Messrs. Kerry and Jones, Sydney, N.S.W. ;
P)ARTON Brothers, Dunedin, N.Z. ;
Lala Dken Daval, Indore, C.I.
The photographs were reproduced by the Collotype process,
under the direction of Mr. Berghoff and Mr. Dineex, of the
Automatic Engraving Company, Willesdcn Creen.
W. Arthur Roord, Esq., and A. R. Deane, Est}., of the
Association of Sun Artists, were good enough to give their
valuable advice and assistance in illustrating the work.
The Modern Odyssey.
CHAPTER I
HOLYHEAD TO DUBLIN.
A HEAVY burden of responsibility rests upon the shoulders
of the adventurer who, regardless of the trouble and
anxiety which his conduct may entail upon future gene-
rations, sails to unknown seas and lightly discovers a
new country. All that watchful care for the interests of
posterity, which should never be absent from the thoughts
of the prudent, is banished from his mind. A thrill of
selfish joy electrifies his frame as the stem of his boat
grates upon the strand. He eagerly leaps down, makes
an intaglio of ten toes on a virgin shore, and gives the
name of his sweetheart to the most prominent feature of
the scene. He hastily takes for granted that he has con-
ferred a benefit upon mankind, and returns to his native
land full of pride, and bequeaths to the world a legacy
that cannot be repudiated.
History has not handed down to us the name of the
discoverer of Ireland. Even tradition is silent. It may
be that, unlike most explorers, he was a person of pro-
phetic instinct ; and if so, then perhaps, when the first
glow of enthusiasm had cooled down, he began to be
appalled by the consequences which he foresaw would
result from his rash act ; and shrinking from the censure
B
2 The Modern Odyssey.
which unborn generations would pass upon him, pre-
served his incognito and withdrew from pubUc notice.
Nobody, except perhaps an Irishman, can deny that
Ireland was discovered at some period of history; and
as the name of no man is mentioned in connection witli
that unfortunate event, it is probable that the island was
discovered by a woman. A want of timely reticence is
not unknown amongst the sex. The hen cackles when
she has laid the o.^'g that will promptly be boiled. In like
manner the lady who discovered Ireland did not refrain
from proclaiming what she had done, and it is no doubt
owing to the chivalry of her male contemporaries that
her name is not mentioned in the chronicles.
People soon found out that a difficult problem had
been proposed for solution. Many worthy persons at-
tempted to solve it, just as many worthy persons have
attempted to square the circle. The earliest attempt on
record is that of St. Patrick. He began with a disastrous
blunder; to which, indeed, all the subsequent troubles of
the country may be traced. He expelled the reptiles
instead of expelling the natives. In a few centuries,
during which nine-tenths of the Irish kings and chieftains
died vicjlent deaths, Strongbow appeared upon the scene.
He proposed to settle the question with the help of a few
thousand Welshmen. The quaint genius of the Welsh
nation had even then been noticed by the observant. It
had chosen a kind of onion to be its emblem, though it
had not yet conferred honorary citizenship upon that
wayward individual the Welsher. Still, Strongbow had
reason to believe that the ardent, riotous, self-assertive,
unconventional, and zymotic temperament of the Welsh-
man would have a pacifying influence over the Irishman ;
and he invaded Wexford with a host of followers from
Pembrokeshire. He, like his predecessor St. Patrick,
failed, but not with disaster. When he found that he was
Holyhead to Dublin. 3
unlikely to accomplish his object, he wisely married Eva,
a beautiful Irish heiress. In those days there were Irish
heiresses. She owned a castle in Waterford, and much
more than three acres and a cow in Kildare. After
another turbulent interval came Cromwell, who killed a
large number of the inhabitants, and with consummate
judgment persuaded forty thousand of the survivors to
take service in the armies of our hereditary enemies,
France and Spain. It does not appear that any practical
attempts have been made since the time of Cromwell to
deal with the Irish question.
Facilis descensus Averni. The traveller to Ireland is
carried in a fast and well-appointed train as far as Holy-
head ; where he will find electric lights sparkling upon a
convenient quay, and the Banshee or the Connaught ready
to take him across the Channel at the rate of seventeen
knots an hour. If the night is fine, the passage, even in
winter, is far from unpleasant, except to that unfortunate
class of traveller whose stomachic balance is so delicately
poised that the ripple from the breast of a wild swan
upon a mountain tarn would disturb it. The passengers
are on board, and are composing themselves in the
berths which they had the foresight to telegraph for
from Euston Square ; the steamer casts off from the
quay, glides down between the wharves, and soon her
starboarded helm has brought her abreast of the break-
water, under whose shelter perhaps a hundred or more
ships are lying at anchor. Before she reaches the open
sea and settles down to her course, the brilliant electric
light on the South Stack is unmasked by the cliffs, and
tlie full force of the tide sweeping round the projecting
corner of Anglesea strikes her on the beam.
The dark belt of water which is beyond the reach of
the lightliouses on either side of the Chaimel is crossed
in less than an hour, and then the Baily light on Ilowth
B 2
4 The Modern Odyssey.
is seen a little on the starboard bow. But if the wind
blows lightly from the west, the presence of Ireland will
probably make itself known to another sense. Yet it is
not the scent of far-away flowers that strays across the
sea. Neither the heather on the Wicklow Hills, nor the
violets of those meadows where the Meath hounds do
frolic, contribute to the essences projected eastward over
the waves. An arm of mist and fog, laden with the fumes
of the City of Dublin, stretches out its hand, and the
touch may often be discerned at a distance of six miles
from the shore.
Now the Pool-beg foghorns strike the traveller's ear.
A bellowing like the cry of a mammoth in distress
issues from the darkness : the sound ceases : never was
silence more acceptable. But in a moment another
monster in pain has taken up the cry, and a shrill squeal
such as might proceed from an orchestra of bagpipes
pierces the ear. The steamer has reached the mouth of
the Liffey; her engines are slowed; the electric light upon
her bridge throws a beam of brightness into the gloom ;
she stems the current of a dirty river, and cautiously
gropes her way through the murky air to her berth at
the North Wall.
It is therefore probable that the impressions of
those who reach Ireland for the first time early on a
winter's morning will not be favourable to that remark-
able country. But the traveller who chooses the late
spring for his journey will not at once wish himself back
in his club in London. The day breaks when the steamer
is half-way across the Channel ; the white mists of the
night stand aside, and disclose the Welsh hills below
the brightening east, and the dark serrated line of the
Wicklow mountains in the west ; the peaks gradually
separate as the steamer approaches them ; the outline
of the lower ground on the Irish shore takes form ; the
Holyhead to Dublin. 5
profile of Howth grows distinct out of the gloom ; Dalkey
Island detaches itself from the mainland ; the little waves
are clear and sparkling, and gently play with the Kish
light-vessel at the mouth of the Bay; the spires and towers
of Dublin begin to rise out of the unbroken water-line
between Howth and the hills ; and far away to the North
the Mourne Mountains lie like a faint cloud upon the
horizon. Many more beautiful scenes will be forgotten
while the bright picture of Dublin Bay in the morning
still lingers in the memory.
A nearer view destroys much of the charm. The bay
is fringed with plain and dowdy houses in the builder's
and contractor's style of architecture. An almost con-
tinuous line of stucco extends from Dalkey to Dublin.
Here and there the monotony is broken by an ugly
church or a modern castellated habitation. There is no
place where a little aesthetic taste could have been more
fitly shown, or where its absence is more painful, than on
the southern shore of the Bay of Dublin.
CHAPTER II.
RANDOM NOTES FROM THE ATLANTIC.
The Atlantic steamers call at Oueenstown for the
mails about eighteen hours after leaving Liverpool. It
is a dowdy little place which greatly disiigures a very
beautiful haven.
While the ship is at anchor some of the passengers
usually go on shore in the tender to spend a few more
last moments on British soil, but the farewell footsteps
must not wander very far afield, for soon the train will
be seen coming down the incline. The country-women
press to the gangway with baskets of shamrock, and
Paddy is there with a stock of shillelaghs. It does not
take long to toss six hundred mail-bags into the tender,
and as she casts off from the wharf the cries of the
vendors of shamrock and shillelagh are redoubled. Prices
fall, and the bears have the market to themselves. In
the midst of the hubbub the wail of some poor woman
who has just said farewell to her son rises from the
crowd. For all the shamrock that he takes with him for
luck, she cannot trust him to the purple fathoms or to
that Wild West from which she knows he never will
return to gladden her eyes. Yet he will cherish those tiny
leaves long after they arc withered : they will comfort him
in sickness and be the companions of his lonely hours ;
and with his last breath he will desire that they shall be
placed with him in his grave. In that tangled web of
~ tr.
s 5C
- H
3 rr
D! C
Random Notes from the Atlantic. 7
contradictions which make up the Irish character, many
a wayward thread of gold may be discerned.
It was late in the afternoon when the Utnbriaska
passed the soHtary hghthouse on the Fastnet. The
desolate shore receded, and at sunset the ragged head-
lands which Erin trails in the Atlantic were lying like
faint clouds on the horizon. The long, low swell rolled
in from the north-west, and the gaps in the ranks at
dinner showed that the battle had begun.
^ -X- -X- -H- -X-
The traveller who has forgotten to provide himself
with a deck-chair is like a bark that has no haven to fly
to in the storm. There may be five hundred passengers
on board, but one-third of them would inconveniently
crowd the available seats on deck. In the simple
language of the Latin exercise book, the chair is the
comfort of the passenger. It is a place of refuge when
he feels that his digestive organs are so nicely balanced
that the slightest unnecessary exertion would render the
equilibrium unstable, yet fears to go below ; and in fine
weather it is ready to welcome him when he takes
his afternoon nap or smokes his cigar under the stars.
In the hands of an adroit owner it is invaluable. Per-
haps he is a shy man who wishes to make the acquaint-
ance of a fellow-passenger, a charming .American girl.
How shall he compass it ? tic does not sit near licr at
dinner, and none of the daily little incidents of the
sea have given him the opportunity that he desires. He
begins to dcs[)air ; the short voyage will soon be over,
and she will pass on. One evening in the smoking-
room a bright idea occurs to him. Every night the
chairs are stacked in the passage between the deck-house
and the engine-room sk)light. In the morning there
is a redistribution of seats made with regard to the sun
and the wind. " I will get up very early," he sa)-s to
8 The Modern Odyssey.
himself, "before seven bells in the morning watch, and I
will go on deck and find out where her chair has been
placed, and I will place mine next to it ; she will never
know that it did not come there by chance." He carries
out his cunning plan ; but when he joyfully comes on
deck after breakfast he is disgusted to find his chair
occupied by that talkative fellow who is chattering hard
to the American girl. Yet he does not like to evict the
tenant, for it may be that she finds him agreeable ; and
the poor schemer does not wish to incur her displeasure
by depriving her of the companionship of one who,
for all he knows, may be amusing her. So he makes no
sign, but bides his time, and takes a long walk, every
now and then looking furtively to see whether the
intruder is still there. Tout vient a point a qui sait
attendre. At last the fellow goes away, and the rightful
heir comes into his own. In a few hours he has
summoned up courage to address some mild platitude
to his fair neighbour, which is courteously received ; and
when the voyage is over he acknowledges that he owes
to his deck-chair the pleasant hours he has spent by her
side.
She is both agreeable and well-informed ; she is
graceful, and almost, if not quite, beautiful ; but it is
rather the beauty of feature than that of complexion
or expression. If her face seems somewhat too pale
and intellectual, yet there is a peculiar wan, pathetic
look upon it that is far more attractive and lovable than
stereotyped smiles and laughing eyes. A subdued vein
of sclf-assertiveness gives force to her character, and a
subtle, unconscious trace of Puritanism, which never
degenerates into prudery, lingers in it and refines it.
* -^ -x- * -x-
The wonders of the ocean will greatly interest the
traveller who is making his first long voyage. lie will see
Random Notes from the Atlantic. 9
strange sunsets in the west, and huge waves majestically
rolling by. He will feel the presence of the chilling
iceberg as it slowly drifts southward ; he will hear the
weird music of the winds as they play upon the cordage ;
he will learn how the sun and the stars must be
questioned before the ship's position can be known.
But none of these things will excite in him a feeling
of such astonishment as that caused by the ladies' hair.
He knows that they are cooped up in narrow cabins, in
which there is scarcely room to turn. He knows that
the looking-glass is hardly bigger than a sheet of note-
paper. Yet he sees them come every morning on deck
like birds who have just preened their beautiful plumage
in the quiet recesses of some vast forest. Though
the ship be rolling twenty degrees, the tresses are ar-
ranged in the latest fashion. No trace of hurry can
be discerned ; not a lock is awry, not a hair-pin pro-
truding : nothing that delicate manipulation can effect
is wanting. Neither the ant nor the bee nor the spider
can furnish such an instructive example of industry,
perseverance, and final success under apparently in-
superable difficulties.
■X- ^ * -^f *
These lines are written in a sunny corner of the spar
deck, while the Umhriaska is paying out the knots at
the rate of eighteen in the hour. The last land that
was seen is now more than nine hundred miles astern.
The sea is almost calm, for the breeze is so gentle that it
scarcely ruffles the surface. An almost im}:)erceptible
ground swell, the remnant of last week's gale, swa\'s the
ship gently from side to side, but so slowly and carefully
that if the shadows of the rigging did not move slightly
to and fro, it would be imnoticed. Not a vessel breaks
the clear line of the hori/.on ; not a cloud is seen upon
the pale-blue sk\'. A lonel)- sea-bird is skimming over
lo The Modern Odyssey.
the deep, the sun is sparkling upon the waters ; and the
luncheon gong will sound in two minutes and a half.
^ -X- -Jf -Jf -x-
The energetic pedestrian, accustomed to his daily
walk, need not forego it on the Atlantic. The forecastle
is the very place for a ramble on a fine day, and there is
a shady lane on each side of the main-deck. When the
ship is rolling or sliding down into the trough of a
wave, he will have steeper hills to climb than ever
he climbed on land. The narrow passage between the
smoking-room and the galley will remind him of a path-
way in the mountains, and it needs but a little imagina-
tion to see a leafy bower by the roadside in the hollow
of the turtle-back. In the churning of the screw he
will hear the roar of the waterfall, and the song of a
nightingale in the boatswain's whistle.
4f ^ -x- ^ -x-
Time passes slowly at sea, especially when the ship
is steaming to the West at the rate of eighteen knots
an hour, and each day is in consequence nearly forty
minutes Ioniser than its predecessor. The intelligent
traveller should endeavour to beguile the tedium of the
voyage by extending his knowledge of the natural
history of the ocean. There are many creatures whose
habits he may advantageously study: such as the ship's
cat, the ship's rats, the guillemot, the dolphin, the whale
whose blubber is said to appear in the saloon in the
form of mock-turtle soup, and the sea-serpent who
shrinks so bashfully from view. But the animal which
most concerns him personally is the Atlantic chicken.
Not much is known about this remarkable bird. Thcnigh
not web-footed, it seems to be met with only on the
ocean. It is probably hatched artificially from an (^^^
placed accidentally too near the galley fire. It acquires
strength and vigour by picking up scraps in the lee
Random Notes from the Atlantic. ii
scuppers. Naturalists say that it roosts on the cylinder
covers, and crows to the dawn in the main rigging. In
the course of a decade, constant exercise has completed
its muscular development. About this time its physical
endurance is severely tested, for the ship's cook has had
his eye upon it for many years, and has been watching
its hardy maturity with satisfaction. There is more
than one exciting chase before it is finally driven into a
corner in the steerage, and at length compelled to
surrender its life. The ship's blacksmith trusses it ; a
stoker roasts it ; and knives of a special quality of
hardened steel are served up in honour of its appearance
on the saloon table.
^ -Jf -Sf -x- -^
Last night one of the Irish emigrants died. Will he
be buried at sea .'' " No," says the steward, " we've put
him on ice, and he'll keep till we get to New York."
•X- -x- -K- ^ ^
There is a solitary place upon the ship which, like a
haunted castle near the margin of a lonely lake, is
shunned even by its lawful occupants. It is not the
bath-room amidships, albeit certain passengers have not
washed for centuries. It is not the captain's cabin, for
that is temporarily in the possession of a famil\- who
cornered pigs successfully in Chicago. It is not the
port hos[)ital, for the Dead is lying there. It is a thres-
hold which no one crosses, because on the portal is
inscribed the fatal legend, " Ladies' Cabin." Men may
not enter, therefore women will not.
The despondent poet who is inclined to deplore the
degeneracy of mankind will observe with pleasure that
when people are cut off from the outer world, and bereft
12 The Modern Odyssey.
of their customary distractions, the primitive love of
simple amusements re-asserts itself The Londoner
who reads on the telegraph-board of his club the news
of a European revolution or an Asiatic earthquake
without a flutter of excitement, will rush to the side
of an Atlantic steamer to verify the report that a bottle-
nosed whale has been seen on the starboard bow. The
banker whom nothing less than a panic on the Stock
Exchange would disturb, grows animated over a game
of quoits. But the effect of the ocean wave upon the
British matron of middle age is still more remarkable.
Her defensive attitude, her air of heave-half-a-brick-
at-the-stranger, vanish softly away as the vessel recedes
from land, and in less than forty-eight hours she will —
if not indisposed — probably be heard chattering to her
neighbour at dinner about the cooking and the day's
run. As in a remote shooting lodge in the Highlands the
arrival of the letter-bag is the event of the day, so
is the official notification of the day's run on board
an ocean steamer. It is the pivot on which conversation
turns in the morning ; the subject is renewed when the
chief officer is seen making faces at the sun at midday ;
and the small hours of the afternoon are spent in dis-
cussing the announced result.
■5f -x- ^ -x- -x-
It is really most provoking. The Unibriaska, during
the earlier days of the voyage, made steady, respectable,
commonplace runs of 391, 369, and t^jt^ knots, and every
one was satisfied. Now, however, she suddenly jumps
up to 403 knots without the slightest excuse, and has
thereby completely upset the calculations of those who
gave high prices for low numbers at the selh'ng pool.
No well-conducted mail steamer behaves in such a
manner. Elightiness and irregularity of this kind tends
to destroy the confidence which passengers should feel
Random Notes from the Atlantic. 13
in their ship. They have just cause for complaint, and
the matter will be promptly reported to the owners.
The saloon displayed great interest in the announce-
ment that the first number of the U)nbriaskan News
would be published on the following day. The Editor
informed intending contributors that articles of a per-
sonal nature would not be admitted. It is probable that
this precaution, however necessary it might have been,
prejudicially affected the success of the newspaper, for
the general opinion seemed to be, that though the story
of the little boy who, in lat. 50° 16' N. and long. 20° 51'
vV., complained to his mamma that his dinner would not
keep swallowed, was very amusing, yet in general in-
terest the Uinbriaskan N^ezvs hardly reached the standard
of the other publication of the same printing office — the
daily dinner menu.
■X- ^ -x- ^ ^
" No, I have never seen one myself, but a friend of
mine has."
A shout of astonishment rose from a group of
Americans as these simple words modestly fell from
an Englishman's lips.
" Oh, my ! that's just lovely ! " said a beautiful girl
from lialtimore, as she clapped her dainty hands ; " I
knew I was right ! I was sure there was one ! His friend
has seen it ! "
"Stranger," said a young man who, like so many of
his countrymen, wore the haggard look of a converted
pirate upon his face, " Stranger, I am from Ohio, and it
takes six ^q.^n York Custom House officers to get round
one Ohio man ; so you'd better come down off the
roof"
" Guess your friend was on the splurge," said a middle-
aged man from the Wooden Nutmeg State, who boasted
14 The Modern Odyssey.
that he had travelled a hundred thousand miles in less
time than any other man.
The others said nothing, but a look of polite in-
credulity passed over their features. Still the English-
man adhered to his statemetit, in spite of open disbelief
and covert sneer.
" I repeat," he said, solemnly, "that though I have
never seen one myself, yet a friend of mine, in whose
veracity I have perfect confidence, assures me that he
once saw an American man-of-war ! "
■Jfr -jf -x- -x- -x-
No spot in the ocean has heard more music than the
Banks of Newfoundland. As the ship approaches them,
the inevitable concert looms in the foreground. But
though there is a powerful basso profondo on board all
Atlantic steamers, who may generally be relied on to
perform a solo, yet like all his professional brethren he
has many whims and caprices which cannot always be
successfully humoured. If anything offends his dignity
the chances are that he will sulk all the way from
Queenstovvn to Sandy Hook. He only sings when he
chooses : it may be at midnight, it may be at breakfast,
it may be during the second dog-watch. He has no
tact; he listens to no remonstrances upon the untimely
occasions of his musical efforts ; he will interrupt a lady
without a word of apology; and he will continue his song
for an indefinite period, even though no encore shall have
been demanded. He is called the Steam Whistle ; and
his voice is usually heard during the fogs prevailing on
the Banks. But there is seldom such a dearth of musical
talent on board a sliip that the concert has to depend
solely upon the airs and graces of a Steam Whistle for
its success. Frequently other performers may be found.
There may be a migrant prima donna on board ; there
will surely be half a dozen amateurs who can thump the
Random Notes from the A tlant/c. i 5
piano and twitter little ditties. The services of the Steam
Whistle are by no means necessary in every case. They
should only be employed as a last resource to fill up the
programme in emergencies, such as when the tenor or
the contralto is sea-sick.
The breeze died away ; the light from the golden
fringes of the western clouds fell upon the dark sea ; the
crimson of the setting sun shot across the ocean, pierced
the crests of the cold pure waves, and was magically
transmuted into new colours of marvellous beauty as
it passed through the crystal drops. Nothing could be
lovelier than the luminous ridge of water which crowned
each wave as it leaped upwards to meet the last rays
from the west : nothing more enchanting than the
contrast of the snowy foam and the beryl green of the
translucent crest with the amethystine blue of the un-
illumined trough. And while we watched and wondered,
the sun had dwindled to a mere spark on the horizon,
soon to be quenched like a torch in the deep. Yet
it was long before the incarnadine glow of the sunset
had ceased to fall on the westward slope of the waves.
Nor did the approach of night leave them in darkness,
for soon the forms of those same waves, that had so
lately sparkled in the sunshine, were delineated by their
own phosphorescent foam as they were parted at the
bow and ran along the sides ; and it seemed as though
the ocean, as well as the sky, was studded with stars. In
a little while even those restless waves were weary and
sank to sleep ; for when the moon rose, and slowly
emerged from an almost motionless bank of clouds,
there was hardly a ripple to break the continuity of the
narrow lane of light she threw across the water in
our track, as though to mark the bridge by which we
1 6 The Modern Odyssey.
were spanning the unknown valley three thousand
fathoms down below.
# ^ -jf * -x-
It often happens that the look-out on the forward
bridge of the Umbriaska catches sight of America
before six days have elapsed since the rocky coast of
Ireland sank below the eastern horizon. The colour of
the sea changes, on approaching land, from a greyish
blue into a dirty green ; the national rig of the country,
the three-masted schooner, is seen on every side ; and
many passengers, who have been remarkable during the
voyage for their dowdy appearance, begin to display
their shore clothes. The most patriotic American would
probably admit that the first view of his great country
is not impressive. The low, sandy shore of Long Island,
broken here and there by a row of bathing houses
extended in skirmishing order on the flanks of an enor-
mous hotel, appears on the starboard bow out of the
mist on the horizon. Yet when the bar at Sandy Hook
is once crossed, few scenes are so full of variety and
charm as the bright picture of New York Harbour on a
summer's afternoon. The gentle breeze from the south
brings down the scent of flowers from the heights of
Navesink, the land-locked water is covered with a satin
sheen, and seems so calm and restful after the turmoil
of the Atlantic. The ship enters the Narrows, the
health officers come on board from the quarantine
station on Staten Island, and hold a conversation over
the emigrant who will never return to his native village
in Kildare ; and as the Umbriaska slowly steams past
the wooded shore, the mails are tossed into the Post
Office tender, which waylaid her on the departure of
the health boat. Every kind of vessel is afloat upon
the crowded haven ; a sloop, as trim and shapely as
a yacht, but disfigured by the advertisement which
Random Notes from the Atlantic. \y
she displays in huge letters upon her mainsail, drifts
with the tide towards Bcdloe's Island, whereon stands
the biggest statue in the world ; the advertisement on
the sloop and the colossal size of the statue appro-
priately drawing the attention of the European traveller,
the former to the utilitarian, the latter to the grandiose,
instincts of the American nation. A side-wheel steamer,
of the type common in inland waters, rushes by with
three decks full of excursionists for Coney Island or
Rockaway Beach ; the snorting of the tugs, some of
them unattached, others with long trains of barges in
their wake, but all decorated with the effigy of an
American eagle on the pilot-house, is heard on every
side ; the taut spars of an Australian clipper tower over
the deck of the Umbriaska as the steamer glides under
her stern ; a cat boat is scooting along to Bay Reach ;
the graceful curve of Brooklyn bridge, spanning the
East River as it were with threads of gossamer, comes
into view ; and New York, not covered with a pall of
smoke, but bright and gleaming in the pure air, is seen
basking in the sunshine like an Italian city on the
shores of the Mediterranean.
The tugs under the counter have shoved the Um-
briaska into her berth on the North River, and the
voyage is over. The Fairy of Lake Erie, who has
recognised her father and brother in the crowd as-
sembled on the wharf, rushes about the deck in a
bewilderment of joy, and the Englishman, who had a
theory that American girls were neither aftectionate nor
demonstrative, acknowledges that he was mistaken.
Farewell, Farewell, dear little Fairy of Lake Eric I
It is probable that few, if an}', of us will have the great
pleasure of meeting you again ; but many, many good
wishes will follow you to your home in the Forest Cit\-,
C
1 8 The Modern Odyssey.
and pursue you thence to Florida in the winter, when,
Hke other bright things, Hke the sun and the fireflies
and the humming-birds, you go to the warmer skies
of the South.
Good-bye, Good-bye, dear Httle Fairy of Lake Erie !
CHAPTER III.
A CITV OF PERPETUAL MOTION.
In the fifteenth century Europe both suffered an affront
which has not yet been aven<^ed, and performed a deed
which has made that epoch one of the most important
in the history of the world. The capture of Constanti-
nople by the Turks in 1453 was followed in less than
forty years by the discovery of America. It is not
probable that the latter event was a result of the former,
yet the supposition would not be so fanciful as might be
imagined.
When the Emperor Constantine Palaiologos appealed
to the West for help against the Turks, who were be-
sieging Constantinople, a few Italian volunteers from
Venice and Genoa went to his assistance. After the
capture of the cit\', the survivors returned no doubt
greatly impressed with the power of the Asiatic invader ;
and it is probable that Columbus, in his younger days at
Genoa, often conversed with some of those soldiers who
had fought on the shores of the Bosphorus, and whose
experience led them to belit^ve that l^iuope was in peril.
It was not an unreasonable fear, for the Moors had not
yet been expelled from Spain, and the Turks not long-
afterwards were la\'ing siege to Vienna and ravaging
Bavaria. Columbus had good grounds for imagining
that luirope was destined to be overrun by the Ma-
homedcUis, and that a " bag-and-baggage " policy was
C 2
20 The Modern Odyssey.
likely to be enforced against the inhabitants ; and when
he sailed to the West to discover, as he hoped, an easier
way of access to India — the existing highway to it being
in the hands of the victorious Saracens — -he was, perhaps,
actuated by other feelings than the love of adventure.
It is, at least, not impossible that the motive power
which drove the explorers out of the Iberian Peninsula
towards the West and the South — for only six years
intervened between the discovery of America and the
discovery of the Cape of Good Hope — originated in the
shock of the capture of Constantinople slowly transmitted
through Europe ; just as in mechanics, a blow falling
upon one extremity of a beam drives away an un-
attached body at the other. At the beginning of the
sixteenth century no part of Europe, except, perhaps.
Great Britain, appeared to be beyond the swing of the
Turkish sword ; and this period was remarkable for
maritime enterprise and exploration. Europe had
already recognised the westward tendency of the
course of empire ; America was discovered by one
Italian, and received its name from another Italian
who did not discover it.
It cannot be denied that a traveller who arrives in
New York with the firmest resolution to allow nothing
that he has ever heard, read, or imagined on the subject
of America to influence his judgment, is sorely tried at
the very doorstep. He may freely acknowledge that
the Colonial [policy of George III. and Lord North was
one of the most foolish blunders recorded in history ;
that Washington was one of the greatest men the world
has ever seen ; that rebellion was not only justifiable,
but obligatory ; and that there is much to be said in
favour of a Republican form of government.
Human nature, however, is so constituted that a
mere trifle suffices to awaken dormant feelings, and the
A City of Perpetual Motion. 21
old leaven of national prejudice is liable to become
operative" at the sight of the two objects which first
arrest the attention of the traveller entering the United
States at New York. One is an hotel on Coney Island
built in the form of an elephant ; and the other is the
most conspicuous feature of a beautiful haven — the
Statue of Liberty on Bjdloc's Island, the gift of the
French Republic to the American people. It is a
colossal figure of a woman holding a torch, which is
supposed to be enlightening the world with the flame of
Liberty. Had it been erected on some lonely headland
to be a landmark for ships ap[)roaching the continent,
its appearance might not have been so jarring ; but in
the midst of a crowded harbour the massive inartistic
figure is strangely out of place. Whether the world
needs enlightening with the peculiar blaze of liberty
which kindles in America is a question for political
philosophers to determine ; and certainly, to the majority
of persons not American by birth, the effigy will not
immediately reveal the intention of the donors and
acceptors of the gift. To an Englishman it appears to
be an allegorical figure of American Democracy
brandishing a clumsy weapon, in the form of an angry
woman wielding a bludgeon in her uplifted arm ; and
when the behaviour of the United States to luigland — as,
for example, in the affairs of Lord Sackvillc and of the
fisheries in Behring's Straits — is considered, this view of
the emblematic teaching of the statue on Bcdloe's Island
is not unjustifiable. Each newly accredited foreign
ambassador to the L'nited States should attentively
stud)' the figure as he sails up the harbour of New
York.
In justice to America, it must be acknowledged that
the idea of a statue of Liberty was exotic. It was
engendered in the brain of a I'renchman — one of a nation
22 The Modern Odyssey.
which has always had a Platonic admiration for the
goddess, but which has never cared to woo her for her
own sake. It is, however, the largest structure of its
kind, and this gives more satisfaction to the American
than the symbolic meaning, to which he is too practical
to attach much importance. As a work of art it has
little merit, but as a wonderful construction it is worthy
of notice. It has, moreover, at least this use : it
strengthens the fibres of the digestive organs of the
mind, and enables a traveller more easily to gulp down
many other extraordinary things which he will find in
America. It stands. at the threshold of the Empire, and
it prepares him for what he will meet within the doors.
It is his touchstone. If he can behold it with no more
intense feeling than a passing sensation of wonder that
the monstrous creature of a nightmare should have been
set up in such a place, he has proved himself fit to travel
in America. If it pains him, he had better engage a
passage in the next steamer for Europe.
A fellow-countryman of Columbus is said to have
been the first mariner to enter the harbour of New York ;
but Hudson, a renegade Englishman in the service of
the Dutch, made it practically known to Europe. A
colony from Holland was founded at the mouth of the
river, and named New Amsterdam, and rc-named New
York when the Dutch were expelled soon afterwards by
the English. The pride of ancestry is too deeply em-
bedded in human nature to be uprooted by democratic
institutions ; and it is now the boast of some New York-
families to be able to establish their descent from the
Dutch pioneers, who are in America what Norman
ancestors arc in h'ngland.
The primitive Dutchman who settled at the mouth
of the Hudson, and the East Anglian who landed on the
coast of Massachusetts, neither of them belonging to a
A City of Perpetual Mot/ on. 23
community remarkable for genius, intellect, or originality,
respectively established two cities in America — New
York, the most restless and intense place of commerce
in the world, and Boston, which believes itself to be the
intellectual centre of one hemisphere at least. New
York is more than a mere city : it is a congested nation
of people in a hurry, jostling one another on Manhattan
Island, a narrow piece of land encompassed by three
rivers. The boundaries were long ago stretched to the
bursting point — at least, on the southern portion of the
island — and swarms from the Manhattan hive are con-
tinually settling on the adjoining shores. Both Jersey
City, on the opposite side of the Hudson, and Brooklyn,
on the western extremity of Long Island, are populous
places, the latter being the third largest city in the
United States ; while smaller towns have sprung up on
almost every suitable site in the neighbourhood of the
metropolis.
The condition of the streets is the first thing which
attracts attention in New York, and it would be thought
disgraceful in a small English town of a few thousand
inhabitants. Americans themselves acknowledge that
it is so, and excuse the neglect by alleging that the
rigour of the climate and the extremes of heat and cold
to which the city is subject make it difficult to construct
a satisfactory roadway, and that the difficulty is further
increased by the number of public bodies which have
the right to break up the road whenever they think fit.
A dri\e of half a mile in a New York cab — a method of
progression costing a dollar,, at the least — or a stroll in
the streets after a shower of rain, should be attempted
by no one except of necessity. The roads, under the
control of a frequently corru[)t municipality, are matched
by the sidewalks. In some parts of the city the main-
tenance of the footway in front of the houses is left to the
24 The Modern Odyssey.
householders, who pave it as they please, or leave it un-
paved. Some prefer concrete, others bricks laid on their
edges, others flagstones untruly levelled. It is impossible
to walk a dozen yards in some of the chief thoroughfares
without discomfort, or even without danger. The patched
pavement is not the only obstacle to locomotion, though
that impedes it sufficiently. The space in front of each
house is considered to be part of the tenant's estate.
He may do what he likes with it. He may lounge in
his rocking-chair there ; he may station his dust-bin
there ; he may block it with crates and boxes and the
wares of his trade ; he may erect on it a stall for the
sale of candy. Even in the most crowded streets
waggons or trollies may be seen drawn up across the
sidewalk, and discharging their contents into the shop or
the cellar. Probably the most barbarous specimen of
paving to be seen in any civilised city is along the shore
of the Hudson, in rear of the piers. Speaking generally,
the appearance of New York conveys the impression to
a stranger that the rush of life and pressure of commerce
and business are so great that the inhabitants have not
had leisure to attend to such small matters as the
condition of the streets. In the conflict between personal
liberty of action and public convenience, the latter is
usually worsted in the United States. It is better that
ten thousand foot-passengers should be turned out of the
way rather than that one citizen should be deprived of
the privilege of encumbering his frontage.
An American is, in fact, the most patient individual
under the sun. He will put up with an amount of
inconvenience which in another country would excite a
revolution. He does not object to being jostled off his
sidewalk by a boy on a bicycle, or to being startled by a
street Arab letting off fireworks on the pavement on the
Fourth of July. The streets of New York make him
A City OF Perpetual Motion. 25
wonderfully tolerant of all other inconveniences. Like
the law, the American does not concern himself about
very small things. His idea of proportion makes him
ignore them. His pride is justly gratified by the wealth,
scope, and infinite perspective of his country ; and with
these before his eyes, he can afford to remain unruffled
by petty annoyances, which he complacently and con-
tentedly leaves to be remedied by some future generation
which shall possess a microscopic mind. His eye is not
offended by the sight of wires in festoons attached to poles
which are little better than trees, with the roots, the bark,
and the branches removed. In America, electricity has
become almost as necessary to life as air and water, and
therefore it is supplied in all haste. The appearance of
the wires and the poles would lead a stranger to believe
that there was a time when the American community
was in danger of extinction through lack of the mys-
terious agency, and that the disaster was only averted
by the promptest measures — by hewing timber in the
primeval forest, and setting up the trunks in New
York.
Each street is reticulated for telegraphic, telephonic,
and lighting purposes with wires hanging at random from
the poles in all varieties of curve ; and as the electric
light and the telephone are used in most of the shops
and places of business, a bundle of ragged wires issues
from every house front.
In the busy part of Broadway the number of wires is
almost countless. On each side is a line of poles carrying
at least a hundred, and each pole sends out suckers in all
directions, some wires rising to the roofs or upper floors,
others plunging into basements and cellars. The entire
electric service is arranged, without regard to appear-
ance, in the rough-and-ready manner peculiar to
America ; and the street looks as it it were held in
26 The Modern Odyssey.
the tangle of an enormous spider^s web deranged by a
gust of wind. It may be an inconvenient system to
carry the wires over the house-tops, as in England ; but
in that position they, at least, do not form an eyesore.
It is true that a law has been passed to compel all wires
to be placed underground ; but in America laws bow to
popular sentiment, and it has not been enforced, probably
from a very natural fear of creating another encumbrance
in the streets. If all the telegraphic, telephonic, and
electric lighting companies had the right to exhume
their wires for examination whenever they saw fit, a new
and still more formidable obstruction to locomotion
would appear.
Although the electric light is employed almost
universally. New York is not well lighted. A brilliant
light here and there, which is effectual over a limited
area only, has been substituted for the gas-lamp of
Europe, with the result that the chief streets are
dependent upon the lights in the shops for the greater
part of their illumination ; and when the shops are
closed at night, the middle portion between two electric
light standards is left almost in darkness. A small
circle surrounding the standard is illumined with un-
necessary brilliance, but beyond it the gloom of twilight
prevails. Another inconvenience has resulted from the
adoption of electric lighting. The street names arc not
inscribed upon the houses, but on the gas-lamps at the
corners — an excellent plan. The gas-lamps, however,
having fallen into disuse, are not kept in repair, and
many of the labels have disappeared, while those that
remain cannot easily be read at night unless they happen
to be near an electric light. As exemplified in New
York, the electric light may be pronounced inefficient
for the illumination of a large city.
Towards the middle of the eighteenth century the
A City OF Perpetual Motion. 27
practice of numbering the houses in a street instead of
distinguishingthem by signboards was adopted in London;
but several generations passed by before people discovered
the natural corollary of numbering the houses : nainely,
numbering the streets themselves, and in the old and irre-
gularly planned cities of the Eastern hemisphere it would
have been impracticable. When, however, a city was laid
out upon a geometric plan, it was natural that the streets
should be numbered instead of being styled by meaning-
less names, which gave no indication of locality or of
relative position. No person can learn anything of the
situation of Waterloo Street with respect to Preston Street
by means of their names ; but if the former be called
Eighth Street and the latter Eleventh Street, it may be
inferred that they are near together. Here the practical
genius of the American people, unhampered by history,
tradition, or ancestral wisdom, is shown. Even in
Europe an attempt at scientific nomenclature was some-
times made, if not upon an arithmetical, at least upon a
geographical basis. Every English town has its East,
West, North, and South Street ; and herein lay the germ
of the idea successfully developed in America. In New
York the streets running across the narrow island of
Manhattan are numbered, except in the southern and
less modern quarter of the city, which was long over-
shadowed by European customs. Where the streets
begin to be numbered, there modern New York may be
said to begin; and at present it ends with One Hundred
and Forty-fourth Street.
The streets are crossed by nine Avenues, also
numbered, and the position of any street or of any
house of which the address is known can be found as
readily as a given square on a chess-board. The blocks
are equal in width, and the distance between an\- two
streets, of which the numerical difference is identical, is
28 The Modern Odyssey.
usually the same. Thus a foot-passenger knows exactly
how far he will have to walk to reach Twentieth Street
from Thirtieth Street, and that the distance is the same
as that between Twenty-seventh and Thirty-seventh
Streets. The streets themselves serve the purpose of
milestones.
In some cities, not, however, in New York, the system
has been ingeniously extended. The numeration of the
houses in a street is made with regard to their position
relatively to the streets crossing it at right angles, and
irrespective of the total number of houses it may contain;
with the result of still further facilitating the discovery
of any house, especially in a very long street. Thus,
for example : Chestnut Street in Philadelphia is inter-
sected by a series of numbered streets. Every house in
Chestnut Street which lies between Eighth and Ninth
Streets is numbered from 800 upwards, and similarly
every house lying on the Chestnut face of the block
lying between Sixteenth and Seventeenth Streets bears
a number between 1600 and 1700 ; though, perhaps,
there may be only houses enough in the block to take up
the first tvvcnty-fivc numbers of the century. Thus, if the
number 2212 appears over the door of a house, it is not to
be inferred that there are at least 2212 houses in the street,
but only that the house in question lies between Twenty-
Second and Twenty-Third Streets. This is called the
Philadelphia system.
Another system, differing in detail, but likewise ad-
vantageous, especially in a suburban street, is that of
numbering the houses according to the position they
occup)' in it, irrespective of the total number already
built. In a long line of detached and senii-cK lachcd
houses numbers are assigned to the unoccui)ied gaps.
Thus, the house next to 640 may be 650, so that when
the nine houses are built to fill the intervening space,
A City OF Perpetual Mot/ on. 29
they have numbers already provided for them, and the
necessity of renumbering the street is avoided.
When a century shall have mellowed the magnificent
mansions which have been erected during the last gene-
ration, Fifth Avenue will be one of the most beautiful
streets in the world. At present it is an architectural
exhibition on a large scale. Every variety of structure
which an American architect inspired by dollars can
design, is there ; from a marble palace in the Italian
style to a feudal castle. The splendid edifices are so
new and faultless that the eye longs for some sign of
decay: but the clear sunshine falling upon the too per-
fect roofs and walls discovers no flaw in them. It is a
wonderful display of all the architectural styles, but the
effect is unpleasing, and if some of the Ik^uscs were
not partially covered with green creepers, which lend a
grudging touch of nature to the show, it would be almost
painful. A portcullis and a postern in the heart of New
York without a chip on tiie masonry or a. speck of rust
upon the bars is an insult to the Middle Ages.
At the intersection of Fifth Avenue and Broadway
stands Madison Square, an open space which com[)ares
favourably with a London square. The latter in general
needs only a few tombstones to complete its resemblance
to a cemetery. It is delightful to sit under the trees in
Madison Park after dark, when the electric light falls
through the leaves of the maples, making them stand out
a transparent green against a darker background o{ sk\',
and throws the shadows of their shapes on to the pave-
ment, while the fireflies dart to and fro among the foliage.
Like most American cities, Xew Vcjrk hjoks best bv- night,
and the veiling of its defects by the darkness brings many-
beauties into view. Tlie clear sky sparkles with all the
stars that the overhead wires have not hid. The air is
30 The Modern Odyssey.
warm but fresh, and the taint of smoke does not float
upon the breeze. Yet only a few hundred yards away
night has unveiled a foil to the pleasant scene. Between
the trees appears the side of a house in the angle of
Broadway, covered with the illuminated figure of an
electric corset, and underneath is a screen on which a
series of advertisements is thrown by a magic lantern
from sunset to midnight. It is impossible to escape,
either by day or by night, from the intrusive presence
of the advertisement. It appears on every vacant space
and in many ingeniously adapted positions, and draws
attention to every conceivable commodity. Yet one
thing is more frequently advertised than any other —
with such ubiquity, in fact, that a stranger might be
led to suppose that it was the chief necessity of life in
America. It is not some recent mechanical invention
destined to enrich thousands. It is not some new solu-
tion of a vexed moral problem calculated to promote the
happiness of mankind. It is not a new book or a new
play. It is not a new soap or a new game. It is only a
Liver Pill.
Without exaggeration it may be said that the adver-
tisements of liver pills are one of the most remarkable
features of the United States of America. Wherever an
advertisement is possible, a puff of a liver pill will surely
appear. A foreigner would be justified in arriving at the
conclusion, after a short survey of the country, that the
Liver Pill in its various forms was the staple of commerce
in the Eastern States. It is terrible to think of the amount
of suffering from dyspepsia which the pill advertisements
imply. Ice water, hot cakes, bad cooking, and hasty meals,
followed by a strong cigar and a drink at the bar, have
created a nation of dyspeptics. Next to the advertise-
ments of Liver Pills, the pictorial advertisements of
Corsets are most frequently seen in New York.
A City of Perpetual Motiox. 31
Delmonico's stands in the angle formed by the
divergence of Broadway from the western side of
Madison Square. Here every Englishman thinks it his
duty to dine once at least ; and here he may obtain
a most excellent dinner at a cost more than four times
what would be paid for it at a good London club.
Huyler's, at a short distance from the Square, affords
a characteristic American sight. On a hot afternoon in
summer, two long counters are thronged with women of
all ages hastily consuming a compound of cream, fruit
juice, soda water, and ice, as if there were no leisure
in America even for them. Perhaps two or three men
may be seen patiently standing outside the serried
ranks, but they are present in the capacity of pay-
masters, and not as partakers of the feast, and are so
greatly outnumbered, and appear to be so out of their
element, that a solitary Englishman hesitates to enter
alone. Ice-cream soda, for which Huyler's is famous,
is certainly the pleasantest form of ice and cream in
combination. It is not so solid as the British ice, which
too often resembles a chip from an iceberg, and it is an
agreeable compromise between a long drink and a
sweetmeat.
Madison Square, which, scarcely more than thirty
years ago, was the northern limit of New York, now
stands in the centre of the city, on the line which
roughly divides the commercial from the residential
quarter. The chief clubs are in the neighbourhood, the
majority of them on Fifth Avenue. The many English-
men who have received the hospitality of American
clubs in New York and elsewhere appreciate all the
more fully the kindness with which it is offered because
they know that they cannot return it at home. Few
English clubs of the better class allow unofficial
foreigners to become temporary members ; }'et in Xcw
32 The Modern Odyssey.
York the members of the exclusive Knickerbocker Club
can offer the use of it to their non-resident friends for a
short period. The other clubs, not only in New York,
but also throughout the States, are equally hospitable to
strangers who are properly introduced. When a few
allowances are made for difference of habits, Ameri-
can clubs will be found fully as comfortable and
generally more luxurious than English clubs. During
the daytime they are almost deserted. There is no lazy
class in America, or, at least, it is not numerous ; and
there is so little leisure that even weddings are post-
poned until the evening. Every man has some occu-
pation, and the club lounger is almost unknown. The
rooms are more liberally supplied with books and news-
papers than in England ; the chief English journals are
taken in ; and the familiar red and gold of " Burke's
Peerage " are not absent from the Republican book-
shelves.
Perhaps a time may come when English clubs will
follow the good example, and that it will be possible
to invite American gentlemen to make use of them.
They would greatly value the boon, and there is many
an English club fossil full of prejudice, to whom an hour
of their society would do much good, and several com-
mittees to whom they could give some useful hints in
club management.
For the first three miles of its course Fifth Avenue is
lined on either side by houses which shelter a greater
aggregate of luxury and wealth than any other resi-
dential street in the world. It then forms the eastern
side of Central Park, a public place of which New York
has good reason to be proud. The long and narrow
strip of marsh and rock, which stood greatly in the way
as the increasing city approached, would not now be
recognised by a middle-aged citizen who sauntered in
A City of Perpetual Motion. 33
the pleasant walks and drives and woods of Central
Park. Many have been the misdeeds of the New York
municipality, but in this instance it has done well ; and
that an unpromising tract should have been converted
into such an agreeable place of recreation is greatly
to its credit. New York is rapidly closing in upon
Central Park, and in a few years it will be entirely
surrounded by houses. A portion of the area is occupied
by the reservoirs which supply the city with water, and
the rest is covered with groves, lakes, lawns, and
gardens, all of them artificial, but all so artistically
arranged that they appear to have been placed there by
Nature. There are delightful rambles in hilly copses
overlooking sheets of water ; benches for the weary in the
midst of flowering shrubs ; fields for baseball and lawn-
tennis; rides and trotting tracks; fountains and statues;
retreats for the romantic ; parades for the worldly ;
all kept in admirable order. The dowdy shrubs and
smoke-dried grass and trees which give such a melancholy
look to a London park during the greater part of the
year are not found in Central Park. The flowers are
liberally bestowed, and not dealt out in niggardly units ;
and if the trees are not so fine nor the expanse of turf so
wide as in London, there is far greater variety of
scenery. There are spots in Central Park where it is
possible to imagine oneself, without a violent stretch of
fancy, in a woodland district of the South of England ;
there are dingles which recall Pembrokeshire. Nor
have the associations of the place been spoilt by the
intrusion of unpleasing objects. No shooting-galler)- or
merry-go-round is there. Central Park is a sanctuary
from which even ad\crtiscments ha\-e been excluded.
It is possible to stroll for hours without seeing the
notice of a corset or a liver pill except perhaps half a
mile away on some loft\- hoarding in the cit}-. An
D
34 The Modern Odyssey.
Egyptian obelisk of the time of Thothmes III., inscribed
with the victories of Rameses II., stands on an eminence,
and reminds the American of the strange destiny which
overtakes monumental records. It would be rash to
predict the ultimate fate of the Statue of Liberty, or of
the pile on Bunker's Hill, or of the Eiffel Tower. Per-
haps in a few thousand years they may be adorning the
capital of an African Empire on the banks of the Congo,
or the chief city of an Australian Republic on the shores
of Port Phillip.
The regulations imposed upon persons frequenting
the park are strict but not unreasonable : for example,
pedestrians are not allowed to walk upon the track set
apart for driving, and foot and mounted policemen are
stationed at various points to enforce the rule.
It is only in Central Park, when he tries to claim the
right of man to walk upon a road reserved for quadrupeds,
that a well-conducted traveller in America is likely to be
brought into personal relations with the police, and there-
fore his opportunities of studying them are iQ\w. To a
superficial observer the American patrolman appears to
differ greatly from the English constable. The latter is
a machine wound up to walk the streets in a plain but
handsome uniform, to enter an occasional memorandum
in a notebook, to preserve order to the best of his
ability, and to answer the questions of countrymen. A
smile seldom lights up his solemn face; and if not quick,
he is fairly intelligent.
The New York patrolman, on the other hand, is a
sprightly individual in an ugly grey helmet, blue tunic,
and brown trousers, with a metal badge upon his breast.
Me lounges airily through the streets, toys with his
truncheon, chats pleasantly with a friend, and, when
tired, leans comfortably against a lamp-post. If the
American papers are worthy of credit, his look of
A City of Perpetual Motiox. 35
intelligence is but an assumed pretence, and he is in
reality an addlchcadcd simpleton.
The New York patrolman naturally suggests another
official, the Custom House officer, who is usually the
first American encountered on his native land by the
traveller. He is the guardian of the revenue, and by rights
his mental qualities should be far above the common, for
he is constantly engaged in defeating the attempts of the
acutest nation upon earth to evade their own laws. Yet
his disposition has not been altogether soured. Many
traces of human nature are still found in him. He is not
only open to bribery, but he also abates the rigour of his
examination as the afternoon wears on and his supper-
time approaches ; though, when the day is young, he
often struggles, with final success, to bring a doubtful
article within the mischief of a preposterous tariff.
Female Custom officials have been recently appointed
in New York, and they are by no means popular with
travellers of their own sex, as they are quick to detect
an awkward arrangement of dress — such as an uncon-
scionable bustle, or a padded garment which may contain
a whole treasure liable to duty.
Although New York is the largest city on the Ameri-
can continent, it is not the capital of the United States,
nor even of the State of New York ; and the public build-
ings are therefore not numerous. They are, however,
among the most costly that have ever been erected. The
city municipality is mainly in the hands of the residuum
of Irish emigrants which has never percolated into the
interior of the country, and it has often regarded itself
as a dollar-distributing and dollar-retaining machine,
and has spared no exi)ense in acting on this principle.
Of its productions, the most remarkable is the Court
House, which was begun nearly thirty years ago, and is
not yet finished, though no less than ^^2,400,000 have
D 2
36 The Modern Odyssey.
been ostensibly devoted to the fabric, its ornamentation
and furniture. The cost of an American public building
is usually its most noticeable feature.
Of the structures erected for other purposes the most
remarkable is the wonderful suspension bridge over the
East River, connecting New York with its Long Island
suburb, Brooklyn. The cost of it was i^3,ooo,ooo, a sum
sufficient to build and equip 300 miles or more of railway
in many countries. It is the longest suspension bridge in
the world, being, with its approaches, more than a mile
in length. It rises to a height of 135 feet above the
water. Besides footpaths and carriage roads, two tracks
convey trains drawn by ropes constantly to and fro, like
a shuttle in a loom. The cars are shunted at each end
by locomotives, which do not cross the bridge. The
wonder is that it should have been found profitable to
spend such a sum in slightly reducing the time and the
inconvenience of the transit between New York and
Brooklyn. To an unadvanccd European mind the ferries
would appear to be sufficient under the circumstances to
accommodate the traffic.
The condition of the streets of New York having
rendered carriage and pedestrian traffic difhcult, it
became necessary to adopt other means of intercom-
munication. The chief thoroughfares are traversed
throughout their length either by the Elevated Railway
or by tram\Nays, or by both. The cit)' is a narrow
oblong in shape, and is thus peculiarly well adapted
for either of these methods. Some of the streets — as,
for example, Bowery — have no less than four lines of
I:orse-cars running side by side, in addition to the
Elevated Railway; and at short intervals these are crossed
b)' transverse lines running from the East River to the
North River, so that thiCre are scarcely any two points
south of Central Park \\ hich are not in connection. 1 he
A City of Perpetual Motion. 37
horse-car is essentially a democratic conveyance. The
millionaire from Fifth Avenue goes Down Town in it side
by side with the artisan or Irish labourer, and the judge
steps out of it to open Court. Private carriages are rarely
seen in the business quarters, and without its horse-cars
New York would be paralysed. The tinkle of the bells
on the harness is heard everywhere, and never ceases
except during a few hours of the night. The switches at
the junctions are ingeniously worked by the horses' feet
treading on a plate controlling a lever. The cars are a
comfortable and a convenient haven of refuge for the
European traveller bewildered by the bustle and dis-
mayed by the difficulty of foot locomotion in the crowded
streets. However, the stranger in Paris who complained
that he had never been able to visit that part of the city
called " Complet," because the cars running to it were
invariably full, would not be able to say the same in New
York ; for, technically, an American horse-car is never
crowded, and always holds as many passengers as care
to get on to it. It is the most elastic body in
mechanics.
The Elevated Railway of New York has four parallel
lines, which converge, like the fingers of a hand, at the
Battery, the southern extremity of the city. One ter-
minates at Central Park, and the other three run, two of
them along adjoining streets, as far as the Haarlem
river, the northern boundary of the city. In addition
to these main lines there are loops and short shuttle
lines, which respectively serve the business centre, the
New York Central Depot, and one of the ferries to
Long Island. The Elevated appears to be an extra-
ordinary construction to those whose ideas of railway
engineering are derived from the l£uropean practice. It
follows the line of the streets, and scarcely a house was
pulled down to make room for it ; and it turns corners
38 The Modern Odyssey.
and curves of a radius that would drive an inspector of
the British Board of Trade out of his mind. Pillars
rising from the middle of the road or from the kerbstone
support the girders which carry the rails. The railway
is in fact a continuous viaduct. The erection is not an
ornament to the City, but the appearance of the streets
of New York hardly admits of being spoilt. The line
for the greater part of the distance is at the level of the
first floor of the houses, and in many places, especially
at the corners, where it approaches as near as possible to
the angles in order to increase the radius of the curves,
the house windows are but a few feet from the passing
train. In the wider streets the tracks are separated and
run along opposite sides, each supported by a single row
of pillars ; and even when the two tracks are contiguous
and require a double row the traffic in the street below
is hardly interfered with. The trains run at very short
intervals, and constantly one train is seen approaching a
station as another is leaving it on the same line. Ex-
cept at the terminal points, the junctions, and the curves
where the line runs round a blind corner, there are no
signals. The cars are clean and comfortable, and the
fare is but five cents, irrespective of distance. No time
is wasted at the station exits in collecting tickets,
which as soon as they are taken are dropped into a
glass box under the eye of an inspector at the platform
entrance.
The New York Elevated is an improvement on its
antithesis, the Underground Railway of London, It
runs in daylight instead of through tunnels filled with
sulphurous fumes ; the trains are more frequent and the
fares lower ; and to a stranger it affords an excellent
means of seeing the outward aspect of the city. An
elevated railway running down the Edgware Road
through Oxford Street and Holborn to the City, with a
A City OF Perpetual Motion. 39
branch line to Charing Cross by way of Regent Street,
would be a boon to London, and one that perhaps
some day may be granted.
The harbour of New York is protected from the
Atlantic by Long Island, which lies like some huge
whale stranded on the coast of Connecticut, with its
head at the mouth of the Hudson. A narrow sound,
wrongly called the East River, separates the island from
the mainland, and on the island in the channel are
placed those institutions which are usually seen outside
the limits of a crowded city. Penitentiaries, Asylums,
Hospitals, Almshouses, and the like, here find an appro-
priate site apart from the hive on the mainland. At the
northern end of the passage was Hell Gate, a cluster of
rocks which greatly endangered navigation, but mining
on an enormous scale has lately removed the obstruc-
tion. When many miles of galleries had been excavated,
and the honeycombed rock had been filled with ex-
plosives, a little child touched an electric key and the
terror vanished away.
Long Island is the popular playground of New York.
It contains the city's Gravesend and Margate, but not
its Brighton, although one of the seaside resorts bears
that name. Coney Island, detached 'from Long Island
by a narrow creek, is the most frequented bathing place.
The water along the shore is shallow, and a reef breaks
the full force of the ocean waves and forms a quiet
lagoon. The three chief resorts are West Brighton,
Brighton Beach and Manhattan Beach ; and each of
these ministers to the amusement of a different class.
Though lying side by side, they have as little to do with
one another as possible. The common people who
come down to West lirighton cannot stroll on to the
other resorts at their pleasure. A palisade running
40 The Modern Odyssey.
down into the water separates Brighton Beach from
Manhattan Beach, and the only means of access from
the former to the latter is a short line of railway built
on piles.
Each has independent railway communication with
Brooklyn. Manhattan Beach exists for the classes,
West Brighton for the masses ; while Brighton Beach
occupies a middle position. The first object which
catches the eye at West Brighton is an hotel built
in the form of an elephant ; and this also is often the
first object distinctly seen on shore at the end of a
voyage across the Atlantic. The legs contain the stairs,
and the flanks are pierced with windows ; and from this
the character of the place may be inferred. It exists
for those who require a stimulating and violent form of
relaxation, and for whom the usual attractions of a sea-
side place do not suffice. The New Yorker is gratified
by being able to feed and to lodge within the simulated
carcase of a huge beast. Close by stands an iron tower
three hundred feet in height, giving an extensive view
over sea and land ; and there is a merry-go-round which
revolves faster than any other on the continent. But the
unique feature of West Brighton is a wooden cow w^hich
gives milk through a tap placed in the proper place. A
traveller from Europe who happened to be wrecked
upon the shore of Coney Island would at first have
difficulty in conjecturing by what kiitd of human beings
it was inhabited, and, if he judged from appearances, he
would probably come to the conclusion that the natives
were descendants of some race of giants deficient in
intellectual resources. In his love for the grotesque the
lower-class American has much in common with a
Pacific Islander.
Brighton Beach closely adjoins West Brighton, and
is reached by a drive which for some reason or
A City of Perpetual Motion. 41
other is called the Concourse. Here the amusements
are of a somewhat higher class, but are deficient in
variety : to have one's photograph taken cheaply, to
listen to music, and to eat clam chowder, is the extent
of them. The place is no more than a large hotel
with a wooden promenade in front of it. It hap-
pened lately that the encroachment of the Atlantic
endangered the safety of the hotel, which was- with-
out delay placed upon wheels and drawn inland by
locomotives.
Manhattan Beach, half a mile east of Brighton Beach,
is for persons of some degree of culture. It consists of
a large hotel with gardens and bathing lodges attached.
The short line of railway, by which alone it is accessible
from West Brighton and Brighton Beach, acts as a filter
to exclude the dregs of the mob, and keeps it select. The
space between the hotel piazza and the shore has been
laid out as a garden, in which the turf is always green
and the flowers are always bright, and an idle hour or
two may be agreeably spent in listening to the excellent
orchestra in the music rotunda. But even with the
comparative repose of Manhattan Beach to act as a
corrective of the barbarous, vulgar, rude and grotesque
display of West Brighton, Coney Island does not leave a
pleasant impression, and few persons would care to
revisit it. It is a spot where a city in a hurry undergoes
a feverish spasm of enjoyment. There is nothing re-
sembling it to be seen in Europe. An elephant hotel
and a wooden cow yielding milk through a tap would be
jeered at even in Rosherville. In justice to Coney
Island, it must be acknowledged that it is not a rowdy
place. The crowds who visit it during the summer are
well conducted. It seems as if the desire to contemplate
grotesque objects and the enjoyment of rude pleasures
have taken the place of Anglo-Sa.xon riotous instincts in
42 The Modern Odyssey.
the American people. Every nation requires a safety
valve for the discharge of the turbulent elements of its
nature, and there is no nation which makes use of one
with less explosion, or which behaves on most occasions
with more self-control, than the American. Whether
this is in consequence of or in spite of the large measure
of personal liberty entrusted to each individual, is a
question not easily answered.
If a New York popular resort is a place that depresses
rather than exhilarates, there are not a few attractive and
quiet spots within reach of the Great City. He who now
writes these lines will not soon forget some delightful
days spent in a certain villa at Marmaroneck. The little
town is a score of miles from New York, on the northern
shore of Long Island Sound, where a narrow tongue of
land stretches out into the water, and encloses a creek
which is crossed by a causeway. Here the tide ebbs and
flows through the ruins of an old tide-mill. A few villas
stand upon the rocky shore, so close to the water that at
night the little waves seem to be plashing against the
piazza; tiny bays and slender promontories line the strand,
where seaweed and coarse grass grow almost side by side ;
and as the tide falls a few islets are uncovered, and the
sun at noon sparkles on the quartz of the crags. After a
week sj^ent in the City of Perpetual Motion, with voices
everywhere crying out " Move on ! Move on ! " it seemed
like paradise to be sitting under the shade of trees at
Marmaroneck, fanned by a gentle breeze that scarcely
filled the white sails of the drifting schooners in the
Sound. The low hills of Long Island rose on the further
shore of the calm haven ; all the din of America was
hushed ; and when the sun sank into the west the surface
of the water was covered with a lovely tinge of red, and
the rising moon gave the finishing touch of repose to the
scene. Not a sound struck the car, except the dull thud
A City of Perpetual Motiox. 43
of paddles far away, or the rattle of the oars of the little
boat that was exploring the sequestered bays and inlets;
and when the serene and balmy night overspread the sky,
it proved, in the most delightful manner, that peace had
not yet been driven out of America, and that there was
at least one oasis of rest in the land of turmoil.
CHAPTER IV.
THROUGH NINE STATES TO CHICAGO.
There are no railways in the United States.
This apparently paradoxical assertion is explained by
the difference between English and American terminology
of travel by land. Though it is perfectly true that there
are no railways in the United States, there are, neverthe-
less, more than one hundred thousand miles of railroads:
the older word which has become obsolete in the land of
its mintage being retained in full use in the newer country.
There are no Booking Offices, but there is a sufficiency of
Ticket Offices ; the former inaccurate expression, a relic
of the coaching days when travellers' names were entered
in a book, having given place to the latter. There are no
guards in the trains, though in the wilder and more un-
settled States protective services are no less necessary
than they were in Great Britain when the main roads
were infested by highwaymen ; but each train, like each
omnibus in London, is in charge of a conductor. The
trains are never " punctual," but they arc frequently " on
time." No time-tables are issued ; but ornamental folders,
well printed on good paper, and containing maps ingeni-
ously, if not ingenuously, designed, so as to make it appear
that the company's line is the shortest distance between
the chief points to which it runs, arc distributed gra-
tuitously. Tickets are not only transferable, but a con-
siderable business is done in them by ticket agents. To
Through Nine States to Chicago. 45
" stop over " is to break the journey on the way; a return
ticket is styled a "round trip;" and an "air line" is not
a new kind of track which requires no earthly foundation
for the permanent way, but merely the shortest possible
route between two places.
The great ambition, the final objective point of all the
important railroads which have a terminus on the Atlantic
seaboard, is to get to Chicago, directly if possible ; but, if
not, by some means or other.
The Hudson separates the State of New York from
the State of New Jersey, and the city of New York
from its suburb Jersey City. Here the river is about a
mile in width, and each bank is lined with piers jutting
out into the stream, which is alive with traffic both by
night and by day. The Thames is a comparatively un-
frequented river when compared with the Hudson. As
New York, the commercial metropolis of America, is cut
off by the Hudson from all but six of the forty and more
States of the Union, the railways from the south and west
terminate on the right bank of the river ; and Jersey City,
containing as large a population as Sunderland or Lei-
cester, is in fact a huge railway terminus and dockyard.
Each State is governed by a different code of laws,
and among the statutes still in force in New Jersey is
one that will give peculiar satisfaction to a confirmed
misogynist. It is to this effect : —
" All women who betray into matrimony [sic] any of
his Majesty's subjects by virtue of scents, cosmetics,
artificial teeth, false hair, or high-heeled shoes, shall
incur the pcnalt}' of the law now in force against witch-
craft and like misdemeanours."
The law was passed in the last ccntur)-, while New
Jerse\- was still a colon)- of Great Britain. It has never
been repealed, and though not enforced, it is not obso-
lete. A male traxcllcr can therefore cross the Hudson
46 The Modern Odyssey.
into New Jersey with a comfortable feeling that in this
State, if nowhere else, he is protected against the wiles
of the unscrupulous sex, and that he must go to America
to find the weak fully protected against the strong by
legislation.
The distance between New York and Philadelphia
is ninety miles, and the excellent express trains of the
Pennsylvania railroad cover it in two hours. The scenery
of New Jersey had at one time some pastoral and wood-
land beauty, but this has disappeared, and the existing
characteristics of the landscape are a profusion of small
trees planted over a flat country, variegated with ragged
wire fences, telegraph poles, wooden houses and shanties,
some of them covered with roses, others with advertise-
ments of liver pills.
An excellent dinner, beginning \\\\\\ pate de foie gras
and ending with strawberries and cream, is served in the
dining car, which is now an integral part of all through
trains to the West.
The kindly Quakers who, under the leadership of
Penn, emigrated to the banks of the Delaware, and
purchased from the Indians a site for a town, to which
they gave a name indicative of the principles of their
religion, accomplished more than any other founders of
cities had hitherto done ; for Philadelphia, although it
has recently been outstripped by Chicago, was the first
city in the world to attain a population not far short of 'a
million before the bi-ccntenary of its foundation. It lies
on the right bank of the Delaware, a few miles above the
junction of that river with the Schuylkill. None of the
streets are remarkably handsome, but, if two centuries
can constitute antiquity, the city is interesting from an
antiquarian point of view. The old red-brick houses of
the last century, which are intimately interwoven with
Through Nine States to Chicago. 47
the history of the country, give a staid and sober appear-
ance, very uncommon in America, to the thoroughfares.
Independence Hall, in which the Declaration of In-
dependence was adopted, is the most fondly cherished
edifice in America. It is now used as a museum of the
properties of that drama, and the revolutionary relics,
pictures, and documents are arranged as far as possible
in the positions which they occupied in the rooms when
the first American Congress met within the walls. It is
hard to find history in America, but the Americans are
careful to preserve the rare plant from extinction.
The coast of New Jersey is a popular resort during
the summer, and the low shore extending from Sandy
Hook to the mouth of the Delaware is lined with
bathing towns. The places towards the north of the
State are visited chiefly by New Yorkers, and what
Long Branch is to New York, Cape May is to Philadel-
phia and Baltimore. It is a watering place named after
the adjacent promontory, which encloses Delaware Bay
and lies open to the Atlantic about eighty miles distant
from Philadelphia. An American usually uses the word
Ocean where an Englishman would speak of the sea-side,
and talks grandly of his excursion to some obscure
village washed by muddy waves as a trip to the Ocean.
A detour to Cape May makes a pleasant break in
the long journey from New York to Chicago. The
railway starts from Camden, a suburb of Philadelphia
on the further side of the Delaware, and passes through
a flat but rather pleasing district, thickl\- wooded in
places. Fields covered with handsome plants of Indian
corn, or with tomato bushes red with fruit, border the
track, and though the line is single, no time is wasted on
the journey.
Whether or no Ca[:)C May is a pleasant place depends
less upon social conditions than upon the direction of
4^ The Modern Odyssey.
the wind. When the wind is from the sea it is a delight-
ful spot ; and then to feel the fresh ocean breeze fanning
the jaded land, to hear the mutter of the Atlantic surf
on the sands at night, and to listen to the chirp of
the crickets and katydids in the grass, are sensations as
agreeable in their own way as any that can be en-
gendered elsewhere. If, on the other hand, the wind is
from the land, the mosquitoes, who are ever on the look-
out for a change in diet and are as bloodthirsty as any
Indian tribe, will come down with the western breeze
from the creeks and marshes and pounce upon the new-
comer, and make him declare that Cape May is the
most detestable place in America.
The beach of Cape May is more than five miles in
length. On a summer morning hundreds of grown-up
people are seen disporting themselves by the margin of
the ocean and frolicking like children on the sands. In
England a sea bath is considered to be a ceremony that
must be performed shyly and coyly : a primitive struc-
ture resembling the Noah's Ark of the toy-shops, is led
down to the water's edge, and the bathers (looking half-
ashamed of themselves) carefully descend the steps into
the waves. At Cape May every one performs his or her
maritime ablutions in full gaze of the public, who mix
freely in the throng. The sight of America playing at
water-babies is one that can only be seen to perfection
on the coast of New Jersey.
There arc two Baltimores mentioned in the Gazetteers,
but few people ha\c heard of the older Baltimore, the
little Irish village which is the last inhabited place seen
by the Atlantic steamers on the outward vo}'age. From
it the Maryland Baltimore, a city larger than Sheffield,
derives its name, through an Irish peer who founded
a colony in America. Baltimore is quieter, cleaner, and
more ordcrl)- than the great northern cities. It has
Through Nine States to Chicago. 49
a more comfortable and homelike appearance ; the
streets and side-walks are well paved, and the houses are
handsome. In the artisans' quarters the neatness and
substantial look of the houses is a striking contrast to
the corresponding parts of New York.
Mount Vernon, a hill in the heart of the city, is
occupied by a small public garden, shaded by trees and
kept green by fountains. A monument to Washington
in the centre has little merit, as the absence of entasis
in the shaft gives it a harsh appearance. White marble
buildings, very elaborately decorated churches, and fine
private mansions, fill the sides of the square, which,
inasmuch as it stands at a higher elevation than the rest
of the city, affords a good view of the celebrated monu-
ments and public edifices of Baltimore. Eutaw Place
would be an ornament to any city on the Continent
of Europe. It is a broad avenue with gardens running
down the centre line, and flanked on each side by
houses of moderate size, built of red brick faced with
white stone, and it is more pleasing to the eye than any
street in New York or Philadelphia.
In Baltimore leisure has not been wholly squeezed
out of existence, and some of the conveniences of life
are permitted to thrive. The roads leading out of the
city are excellent, especially the old western turnpike
highway. It is composed of crushed oyster-shells,
a material which affords a luxury not often met with in
the United States — a clean and even road-bed. It runs
for some miles through dense woods, and at a very short
distance from the city all signs of habitation disappear.
Thick hedges, an unusual feature in America, are seen ;
and country houses in the rear of parks are passed
at intervals. The entrance gates are commonly fitted
with a contrivance by means of which the carriage
wheels pressing down a lever open them mechanically.
E
50 The Modern Odyssey.
The English traveller notices with pleasure that cricket
has taken root in Baltimore. At Mount Washington, a
{e\w miles west of the city, a meadow in a little valley
has been converted into a cricket field. It is a charming
spot sheltered by green hillsides, and the exotic pastime
appears to flourish on the strange soil.
No traveller ever leaves Baltimore without wishing
to return to it. Many other American cities are more
astonishing, more luxurious, and more thriving ; but few
of them are so pleasing. It is hard to say exactly what
is its peculiar charm. It may be the place itself; it
may be the people ; it may be the clear skies and bright
sunshine of Maryland ; but, whatever it be, the namesake
of the little Irish village is one of the pleasantest places
in America, and the days spent in it are marked with a
white stone.
When the American colonies had attained their
freedom, it was necessary to establish a metropolis for
the new nation. The mutual jealousy of the States
stood in the way of any existing city being chosen, and
with a becoming instinct, a site was selected on the
banks of the Potomac near the birthplace and the home
of the statesman who had brought the rebellion to a
successful issue, and the Indian village of Conocoheague
was raised to the rank of the capital of the United
States by the title of the City of Washington. It is,
however, easier to found a city than to ensure its
development, and even in America a city's growth can-
not be artificially stimulated by social fertilisers. A few
wooden shanties built by a handful of pioneers who
chance to settle upon the shores of a lake or the banks
of a river may in time attract a population of half a
million. Within the memory of living persons, Fort
Dearborn, on Lake Michigan, contained scarcely one
Through Nine States to Chicago. 51
hundred inhabitants, who ran the risk of being scalped
every time they ventured outside its precincts. Pork
and wheat have converted Fort Dearborn into Chicago.
In the early years of the century there was a small
trading post at the confluence of the Missouri and the
Mississippi. Every English county could boast fifty
villages more populous ; but now St. Louis contains
more inhabitants than Leeds.
Whatever may be the cause — whether it be the
blighting presence of the American Congress in session
for several months in each year within its boundaries,
or the savage nature of the mosquito of the Potomac —
the maturity of Washington has been long delayed. It
has sulked and lagged behind unaccountably ; and its
growth, in view of all the agencies at work, has been
comparatively slow. No doubt it has steadily increased
in size, but there has been no sudden expansion such as
the founders had too hastily anticipated. It was laid
out upon a scale so magnificent that at the present time,
in the ninth decade of its existence, it is not likely for
many years to fill the area assigned to it. An American
writer has styled Washington a Philadelphia griddled
across a Versailles, which is not complimentary to
Versailles. It is included in the long list of capitals
in various parts of the world which have been occupied
or taken during the present century by British troops.
The streets are laid out in rectangular blocks, crossed
by avenues radiating from several centres, of which the
chief are the Capitol and the White House ; and thus
whenever the American citizen walks abroad he is
constantly reminded of the Legislative and Executive
authorities of his country, which, though deriving their
power from the same source, the will of the people,
are not seldom at variance. The streets running cast
and west are distinguished by letters, while those
E 2
52 The Modern Odyssey.
running north and south are numbered. The intersect-
ing avenues are named after the various States of the
Union.
Although Washington is a well-planned city, its
appearance, except in certain portions of the residential
quarter, is poor. Pennsylvania Avenue, a wide thorough-
fare over a mile in length, extending from the Capitol to
the White House, is unfinished and lacking in uni-
formity. In one place a warehouse of six stories stands
next to the wooden hovel of a Chinese laundryman.
The profile of the roofs is irregular, the surface of the
road is uneven, the side-walks are ill-paved, and, though
the street is at once the Bond Street and the Piccadilly
of Washington, the shops are inferior.
The Capitol is a noble and splendid edifice. Its
design is so harmonious and well-balanced that no single
detail of the pile unduly attracts the eye, which, in
common with a few of the cathedrals of Europe, it
charms with an impression of unity and repose ; and
although half-finished blocks and an incomplete terrace
lie almost under its shadow, it is hard to find any fault
in the exterior of the magnificent range of white marble
and freestone. The interior is not so satisfactor}'. In
spite of marble corridors and stairways, bronze doors
from Munich, alti rclicvi and frescoes from Italy, pictures
and statues by Italian artists, and costly decorations and
l)ainted walls and ceilings, something of dignity and
grandeur is lacking in the general effect. The halls and
lobbies savour of the palatial hotel or restaurant.
The Capitol is placed on an eminence at a distance
of over a mile from the banks of the Potomac, A belt
of land extending from the terrace to the river has been
partially reserved for public purposes. Probably the
intention of the founders of the city was that it should
be wholly so reserved ; but the utilitarian destiny ot
Through Nine States to Chicago. 53
America interposed its veto. There are, it is true,
gardens and public places on the belt ; but a railway has
wriggled in between them, the shunting of trains goes
on in the midst, and the long, plain roof of the terminus
divides the space, as seen from the terrace, into two
portions. A line of telegraph and telephone wires, sup-
ported on untrimmed poles, passes down an avenue of
fine young trees, and the handsome Smithsonian In-
stitute on one side is balanced by a massive pile of
timber on the other. The Washington Monument
stands in a small wilderness close to the river. It is
a simple and effective obelisk of white marble, and if
it were placed on the Thames Embankment the apex
would stand at a higher level than two-thirds of Eng-
land. It has lately been deposed from its position as
the loftiest structure in the world by the Eiffel Tower.
At the foot of a hanging wood on the Virginian shore
the Potomac bends round from the north, and grows
wider as it flows over the shallows in front of the city.
On the crest of the hill overlooking the river from the
south stands Arlington, a plainly built house with a
romantic history. The ground falls steeply from the
terrace to the Potomac, whose lustrous expanse is seen
over the trees on the hillside, and the Monument and the
Capitol gleam in the sunshine beyond. There arc few
scenes so full of variety and charm as a city lying under
a cloudless sky, with the red foliage of the American
autumn in the foreground, and the broadened reach of
a calmly flowing river in the middle distance.
Arlington lies in the State of Virginia, within a short
distance of Washington. The Potomac is crossed by a
wooden bridge, whence a rough but pretty road leads
to the entrance gates of the park, and a winding drive
through the trees on the hillside ascends to a mansion
which, hardly a generation ago, was the country scat of
54 The Modern Odyssey.
a Virginian gentleman whose name stands out with
almost solitary lustre in the dark pages of the history
of the Confederacy.
When the last act of the drama was played at
Appomattox, Robert Lee, the champion of the South,
emerged from the conflict with more military reputation
than his conquerors; and even his enemies have learnt
to respect his memory. But Arlington had passed away
from him, and at the conclusion of the war it was con-
verted into a national cemetery. The bones of soldiers —
and also, it is said, of other animals — were collected from
a hundred battle-fields, on many of which Lee had been
victorious, and buried again on the slopes of Arlington
and in the gardens where his children used to play. Of
the fifteen thousand graves lying in groups scattered
over the park, the majority are nameless, and bear only a
number for reference. Near the house, and in an enclosure
containing the last resting-place of the Northern chiefs
who perished by land and sea, stands a rostrum, from
which commemorative speeches are delivered on De-
coration Day. A curious vein of romance traverses
the matter-of-fact strata of the American character,
and is especially noticeable in the veneration paid to
the dead.
On the last day of May pilgrims from all parts of the
Union bring flowers to deck the graves of the fallen at
Arlington. On one occasion the only undecorated tombs
were those of the few Southern soldiers who lie there.
When the sun rose next morning — so the story goes — it
was found that the night wind had stolen some of the
flowers which had been so partially bestowed, and
had laid them gently on the graves of the poor out-
casts.
There could not be a fitter subject for a romance than
Arlington, where all the materials for a transatlantic
Through Nine States to Chicago. 55
Woodstock or Waverley are lying ready to be fashioned
by the hand of an American Walter Scott.
Many towns and cities in the United States are
named after a former President, but, with the excep-
tion of Washington, none of them has emerged from
obscurity. It would seem that the Chief Magistrates of
the Republic have a blighting influence on the places
which bear their names, and that the latter have as much
difficulty in retaining the notice of the community as the
former when their brief term of office has expired. The
term " extinct volcano," which was once applied by a
great English statesman to a political opponent, is still
more applicable to an ex-President of the United States,
who after discharging for the space of a few years lava
and asphyxiating vapour in the form of presidential
messages and vetoes, is suddenly quenched, and stands
inert and disregarded by all save occasional students of
political geology.
Cleveland, a populous city in the State of Ohio, is not
an exception to the rule, as it existed under its present
appellation long before Grover Cleveland entered the
White House. Every large city in America has an alias ;
and Cleveland is also known as the Forest City, not on
account of its proximity to a forest, but from the trees
which have been liberally planted in the streets, though
hardly to an extent sufficient to justify the somewhat
extravagant title.
Cleveland lies on the southern shore of Lake Erie, at
the mouth of the river Cuyahoga. It is in some respects
a handsome city, but the frontage on the lake shore
is occupied by the railwaj's and the harbour, while the
landward side is wholly taken up with oil refineries,
which, when the wind blows from the south, waft the
perfume of the petroleum into every part. Euclid Avenue
56 The Modern Odyssey.
is reputed to be the most beautiful residential thorough-
fare in the United States, and its only plain feature is its
name. Most of the houses are detached, and surrounded
by lawns and gardens reaching down to the side-walks.
The general absence of hedges, fences, and walls between
the houses and the roadway gives a spacious and hos-
pitable appearance to the i\ venue. An Englishman's house
is his castle, and frequently his hermitage. An American
interposes as few obstacles as he can to the ingress of his
friends. What he loses in privacy he regains in social en-
joyment. The cool green lawns, the verandahs, the bright-
coloured rocking-chairs hospitably placed on the doorstep,
seem to invite every passer-by to walk in and make him-
self at home. The carriage road and the side-walks are
moreover maintained in excellent order. Euclid Avenue
is a street of which any city might be proud. It is hand-
some and gay, and well ordered ; and no fault could be
found with it except the fashion of stationing artificial
dogs upon the lawns. An iron hound reposing for ever
on the turf is not in accordance with the fitness of
things.
Cleveland possesses two remarkable monuments.
One is the only existing monument on which the defeat
of a British fleet is recorded. A statue of Commodore
Perry, the victorious commander in the battle of Lake
Erie, stands in Monumental Park in the heart of the
city. The familiar sparrows of the place perch upon
the sword-hilt ; and every Englishman, though many
cannot do so, should look upon the effigy without
chagrin. The monument to President Garfield, the
second Chief Citizen of the Republic who suffered a fate
supposed to be reserved for despotic monarchs, stands
outside the city in Lake View Cemetery. It is a lofty
tower, resembling a windmill without sails, and it is
altogether unworthy of the dead.
Through Nine States to Chicago. 57
The first sight of one of the great American lakes is
awaited with interest, but they differ little from the sea
in appearance. The colour is the same, and when the
opposite coast is beneath the horizon the deficiency of
breadth does not destroy the illusion. No one could
tell that the waves breaking at the foot of the low cliffs
of Ohio had not a fetch of a thousand miles, and whether
the spectator looks across the waters from the shore of
the Atlantic or from the shore of Lake Erie no land can
be seen, and one surface is seemingly as boundless as
the other. Only the absence of fully rigged ships indi-
cates that the Forest City is not a seaport having access
to all the oceans, for two piers run out from the mouth
of the Cuyahoga, and a breakwater outside encloses a
harbour of refuge. The shore maintains its uniformity
of direction on either side, and shows no sign of
trending round towards the north to enclose the waters
of the lake.
The more direct way of reaching Chicago from the
Forest City of Ohio is by railway throughout ; but if
a detour is made across the lake to Detroit, a pleasant
voyage and a glimpse of the straits connecting Lakes
Huron and Erie will be cheaply purchased at the cost of
a few hours' delay. A clean, comfortable, and well-
furnished steamer plies between Cleveland and Detroit.
As her paddles begin to churn the Cu\-ahoga at the
wharf the odour of the petroleum, which is largely inter-
mingled with the river water, becomes more pungent,
and is discernible until the vessel has left the harbour.
On a moonlight night the voyage of six to eight hours
across the lake is especially delightful, and at any time
except when the wind is blowing strongly from the
north it is preferable to a night journey by railway.
The lights of Cleveland group themselves above the
58 The Modern Odyssey.
shore, and gradually come nearer together as the ship
recedes from the coast. The red and white flashing
lights on the pier-head are soon hidden by the horizon,
but the electric sparks blazing on tall standards above
the trees and roofs remain in view long after the other
lights have disappeared.
The city of Detroit stands upon the western shore
of the river which under various appellations separates
the Eastern States from Canada. Its identity and con-
tinuity are destroyed by the great lakes which are
threaded on to it, and lower down in its course it is
called the Niagara and the St. Lawrence. The Detroit
River, as well as many of the islands and promontories,
testify with their names to the zeal of the French
missionary explorers of the i/th century, by whom not
only the great lakes were discovered, but also the course
of the great rivers falling into the Gulf of Mexico.
A chain of French names extends from Superior to
New Orleans, but except in the southern links the
nation itself has disappeared. The Germans at the pre-
sent time form a considerable element in the population
of Detroit.
The difference between the levels of Huron and Erie
is ten feet, and the current at Detroit is very swift ; and
although, moreover, the river is navigable only during
eight months of the year, yet it conveys an amount
of tonnage greater by three millions than the combined
foreign and coastwise shipping of London and Liver-
pool. The water is blue-grey in colour, and the red
buildings of Detroit appear to advantage above it when
seen from the Canadian shore. A stroll through the
streets while waiting for the Chicago train reveals the
existence of an admirable municipal regulation that the
occupier of any house in which a case of infectious
disease has occurred shall notify the fact on a placard
affixed to the door.
Through Nine States to Chicago. 59
On the further bank of the river stands the Canadian
town of Windsor, a primitive, unattractive place. If
its life-blood were not constantly being sucked away
by the prosperous American city, its situation might
some day make it an important place. At present it is
but a mean suburb of Detroit, which happens to be
in British territory.
The position of New York, with regard to Chicago,
has made it possible to utilise Canada as a highway
between those cities, and the route by way of Detroit
through Ontario is shorter than some of the lines
running wholly through the United States. The train
from New York crosses into Canada at Niagara, and
passes through British territory on to Windsor, where it
is carried bodily across the river in a transport, and
resumes its land journey in the State of Michigan with
so little disturbance that a passenger might well fall
asleep in Canada and not awake until long after the
train had left the wharf at Detroit. The Customs
examination is made in the baggage cars while the train
is afloat, but luggage from United States' stations passes
through Canada in bond.
The line from Detroit to Chicago traverses a flat
country, partly tilled, but generally covered with dense
woods. The southern shore of Lake Michigan is skirted
for some distance. It is low and sandy, and fringed
with trees, in the openings of which are seen glimpses of
a blue sheet of water stretching far away to the north.
Those travellers who have chanced to sec the lake
not only by day, but also on a summer's night under the
blaze of almost continuous lightning, when the surface
is illumined and the sands of the shore stand white in the
gaps, and the landscape is revealed for a moment like a
phantom out of the darkness by a flash so transient that
the trees hurrying by seem to be standing still, will not
soon fori^ct the siLrht.
6o The Modern Odyssey.
All the great railways running westward from New
York look upon Chicago as their objective point, and
there are in consequence several routes by which the
chief city of the Central States can be reached from the
Atlantic seaboard. To have the power of running solid
trains from the banks of the Hudson or the Delaware to
the western shore of Lake Michigan is the ambition of
half a dozen lines. The rivalry of the companies has
not, however, lowered the time of the journey to the
irreducible minimum, and even the fastest trains would
not pass muster as expresses in England. The greater
part of the track on each road is single, and high speeds
are impracticable. Five or more lines enter Chicago from
the east, all of them on single tracks. In a country
where competition was not so keen, and where railways
did not regard one another as two hostile States regard
each other in Europe, arrangements would have been
made for the construction of a double track, which could
accommodate at least as much traffic as five or six single
tracks, to be used in common by all the railways ap-
proaching Chicago from the east ; but, instead of this
obvious expedient, each line has built an insufficient and
imperfect road of its own. Yet the balance of safety is
possibly on the side of the existing method of independ-
ent access ; for the relations between rival companies in
the United States are sometimes so tightly strained that
there is no saying what might not happen if the trains of
competing lines approached and quitted the goal of their
ambition on the same pair of tracks.
Chicago has many claims to distinction. It is the
largest sexagenarian city in the world ; it has been
devastated by the most destructive fire that ever raged,
in which ^40,000,000 of property was destroyed, and
which broke many of the chief insurance companies
of America. Yet in a {q\v years, in spite of another
Through Nine States to Chicago. 6i
conflagration, the elasticity of the corn and pork trade
had restored to it more than its former prosperity, and
at the present time it wears no sign of the disaster. In
each year within its boundaries several millions of pigs
utter their last grunt, and are converted into pork without
delay. Finally, it shares with Timbuctoo the honour of
having been once chosen as the subject of a Cambridge
Prize Poem, on which occasion the successful competitor
was the only bard who had had the self-control to avoid
using the simile of the Phoenix in connection with the
rebuilding of the city after the great fire.
Chicago is a typical modern American city. The
greater portion of it has been reconstructed since the
conflagration of 1871, and it therefore embodies all
the most recent developments of American ideas and
methods. It is, in fact, a city not twenty years old,
but containing a million inhabitants.
The value of time in Chicago may be estimated by the
fact that two adjacent streets are connected by tunnels
with the corresponding sections lying on the farther side
of the river. In any other country one tunnel would have
been considered sufficient to accommodate the traffic of
both streets, especially as bridges span the river within
a short distance both above and below. In the space of
a very few hundred yards two bridges and two tunnels
cross the stream.
CHAPTER V.
THE NIAGARA SHOW.
It is probably true that the majority of foreign travellers
in America go to Niagara reluctantly, and more for the
sake of saving their own reputation than of deriving any
pleasurable sensation from the contemplation of the scene.
No one could bear up against the accusation that he had
willingly passed it by, and the cataract is in consequence
visited by all, and revisited by few. The feeling of re-
sentment engendered by the enforced pilgrimage relieves
itself in disparagement. By almost general consent, Nia-
gara has been pronounced disappointing. As a majesti.c
and awe-inspiring sight, it is certainly inferior to an
Atlantic gale pursuing and tossing a ship of a myriad of
tons like a straw in a millstream.
The notoriety of Niagara has apparently discounted
its power of astonishing, and its environments are
moreover unpleasing. The first European who saw it
was doubtless bewildered with amaz.emcnt, and all
his successors wish that they could have seen it as he
did, before the mischievous Anglo-Saxon had settled
upon its banks. In the town of Niagara on the American,
and in Clifton on the Canadian side, there is scarcely a
building which is not a disfigurement to the scene. A
suspension bridge crosses the gorge below the cataract:
mills taking their waters from the rapids above stand
upon the brink of the precipice overhanging the lower
The Niagara Show. 63
stream : a switchback occupies a commanding position
on the Canadian side: an incHned railway on the Ameri-
can side leads down from the edge of the Falls to the
rocks washed by the spray of the cataract. Outdoor
photographers tout for patronage, and offer as a back-
ground the curtain of the descending waters. Wooden
shanties and other structures of various degrees of plain-
ness have been placed in all possible positions, and on
an islet in the rapids stands a board bearing the in-
scription " Go East by Erie Railroad."
The State of New York and the Canadian Govern-
ment have lately taken steps to end the former scandal
of Niagara, and now each side of the Falls is reserved as
a public park. A few years ago scarcely any part could
be visited without payment of a fee or toll, but now every
spot is open free to all. The paper-mill which once stood
above the cataract between Goat Island and the Ameri-
can shore has been removed, and it is no longer necessary
to pay a toll of 50 cents to cross the bridge over the
rapids. The payment of fees at every point no doubt
tended to draw out any latent disappointment that
might have been felt with Niagara, and now that these
are abolished the cataract will have a chance of taking
its place among the wonders of the world ; for there are
persons so constituted that they would consider a sight
of the most lovely sunset that ever was seen upon the
Indian Ocean dearly purchased at sixpence. If the clear-
ing process could proceed a step further, and destroy and
obliterate everything that has been erected within sight
of the Falls during the last century, Niagara would no
longer be in danger of being regarded as a colossal water
engine which discharges so many million tons every
minute into Lake Ontario and is capable of supplying
the entire continent with motive power. A very great
advance has been made in a few years : Nature, after
64 The Modern Odyssey.
long eclipse, has been suffered to emerge a little into
view ; and, though no future traveller will see Niagara
as the Indian saw it two centuries ago, perhaps the
summit level of vulgarisation has been attained, and
the pert civilisation of America will have the grace not
to put itself so much in evidence.
The P'alls of Niagara, the most popular show in
America, are the result of Lake Ontario lying more than
three hundred feet below the level of Lake Erie. The
descent is made in a distance of less than forty miles,
but one half of it is accomplished in a single plunge over
a ledge situated midway between the lakes.
Goat Island stands on the brink of the cataract, like
a mass of floatage that has been carried down by the
rapids, and arrested ere it fell into the abyss. It separates
the American from the Canadian Fall, and is reached by
a bridge spanning a stream running at the rate of thirty
miles an hour. The rapids pour down upon it, and as the
water-level at a short distance above is higher than the
island itself, the latter appears as though it must be in-
evitably overwhelmed or thrust over the edge.
The island is almost entirely covered with trees.
Close beside it is the Luna islet, which derives its name
from the lunar rainbows formed in the mist rising out of
the abyss. On the other side are the Three Sisters
Islets, lying in the rapids, and on the water's edge
are many spots bearing the names of persons who have
done brave or foolhardy acts in the presence of the
cataract. Looking upwards and across from the shore
of Goat Island an extraordinary scene of mad waters
meets the eye. Rocks encumber the bed of the river,
and the drainage of Michigan, Superior, Huron and
Erie is struggling with them in a wild desire to reach
the lower pool of Ontario.
The corner of land at the western side of the
The Niagara Show. 65
American Fall is called Prospect Park. A low wall
has been built at the angle, with a parapet only a
few feet from the shoulder of the cataract, and it is
almost possible to put forth the hand and touch the
water as it curls over the brink. The American Fall,
being on the inner side of the river curve, is com-
paratively shallow, and but a small proportion of the
river is carried over it. The Horseshoe, or Canadian
Fall, sends down a mass of water twenty feet in thick-
ness, and is by far the most impressive sight of Niagara.
The momentum of the stream carries the water over the
brink in a grand curve which does not immediately break
into foam, while elsewhere the white veil is formed
almost at the edge. The actual spot of the plunge into
the chasm below is for ever hidden by the impenetrable
spray, from which a lighter and more tenuous mist,
very lovely and ethereal, soars to heaven and mingles
with the clouds ; and sometimes a column of mist,
easily distinguishable from the established mist-veil, is
seen rising suddenly to the shoulder of the cataract.
The river below the Falls shows a tolerably smooth
surface of almost pure white, slightly tinged with pale
blue and green where it emerges from the cloud obscur-
ing the caldron, but as the foam dissolves it gradually
assumes a dark-blue colour beautifully streaked with
white. From this comparatively quiet pool the river
passes down through a deep gorge without disturbance
for a few miles until the ravine changes its direction
and is suddenly contracted. Here the rebellious
stream, every drop of which in an instant is seized
with a mad desire to wrangle and wrestle and struggle
and quarrel with its neighbour, impinges violently
against the side and forms the whirlpool ; where the
water, in its wild efforts to free itself from restraint, is
piled up to a height of thirty feet in the centre. Two
F
65 The Modern Odyssey.
uj^ly railway bridges span the ravine a short distance
above the whirlpool, but though they mar the grandeur
of the scene, one of them, under which a carriage road is
suspended, affords the best position for gazing at the
turmoil of the whirlpool and the gorge.
The roar of Niagara is not so loud as might be
expected. Its intensity depends on the direction of the
wind and on the state of the atmosphere^ which act now
as a sourdine and now as a swell upon the great
diapason. The tremor produced by the fall of so many
million tons of water into the chasm is distinctly per-
ceptible in the houses of Niagara and Clifton.
Niagara is a favourite place of retirement for newly
married couples, and of the American visitors to the
Falls a very large proportion will be brides and bride-
grooms. There appears to be a feeling in America that
the sight of angry waters is good for those who have
lately entered the too often turbulent ocean of married
life, and that the beauty of domestic felicity is more
likely to be appreciated in the presence of such strife.
Perhaps the custom may be accounted for in another
way. Women in America are usually allowed to follow
their own wishes whithersoever the latter may tend, and
it is possible that it is they, rather than their humble
servants the men, who are responsible for the conversion
of Niagara into a honeymoon resort. An American
woman is as restless as a swallow, and she instinctively
llics to places where Nature also is restless.
CHAPTER VI.
A VOYAGE OX INLAND WATERS.
FRO^[ Lcwiston, a little village lying on the United
States' shore of the Niagara River, where the current,
though swift, is sufficiently free from eddies and whirl-
pools for safe navigation, a steamer runs across the
head of Ontario to Toronto. No land is visible at first
cither ahead or on the starboard beam, and there is
nothing in the aspect of the lake to distinguish it from
the open sea ; but soon after leaving the mouth of the
Niagara a hill appears like a faint cloud upon the
horizon, and in an hour the indications of a city show
themselves above the water-line. Toronto lies on the
shore of a bay formed by a tongue projecting into
the lake. The promontory is low but pretty, and some-
what Dutch in appearance. From Toronto to the St.
Lawrence is a voyage of sixteen hours along the
northern shore of the lake, during which the steamer
calls occasionally at small towns bearing the familiar
names of Scarborough, Whitby, and Newcastle.
The steamer enters the St. Lawrence shortly after
leaving Kingsttjn, and for some hours is threading her
way through the Thousand Islands. The beauty of the
scenery has been greatly over-praised, as is usually the
case when American scenery is described by native
writers, but it is certainly pleasing. The boat glides
down through narrow channels in the midst of rocky
F 2
6S The Modern Odyssey.
isles and islets, most of which are covered with trees.
Many of them are inhabited, some being in the pos-
session of New York plutocrats, who on the St. Law-
rence, if nowhere else, are enabled to live like Juan
Fernandez in a tiny empire of their own. Here and
there an entire islet is taken up by a large hotel and
its appurtenances. The fishing is excellent, and no
pleasanter retreat during an American summer could be
desired. Little lighthouses, built on rocks only large
enough for the keeper's cottage with its lantern rising
out of the roof, are constantly passed. Private boat-
sheds and bathing places are seen on the shore under
the trees, and the wooden villas, as a rule, are not a
disfigurement to the river. In autumn especially, when
the first frosts have chilled the foliage and the leaves are
yellow and red, the colouring upon the bright blue
stream is very beautiful. But a journey through 1,692
islands, strewn over forty miles of narrow water, is
necessarily deficient in variety, and when the steamer
emerges upon the unencumbered stream most people
will have had enough of them.
The lower reaches of the St. Lawrence sometimes ex-
pand into lakes, sometimes contract into rapids. The
small, clean Canadian town of Prcscott is the terminus
of the short railway connecting the St. Lawrence with
Ottawa, and opposite to it is the attractive town of
Ogdensburg, in the State of New York, which, at least
across the broad river, appears to advantage. An
Indian pilot takes charge of the wheel when the steamer
is shooting the Rapids between Prescott and Montreal.
The little village of Lachine, which is a few miles
above Montreal, owes its name to a blunder of the
]<^rcnch missionaries who explored the country in the
16th century. Geographical science was at that time
in its infancy. They knew that " the merry world was
A Voyage on Inland Waters. 69
round," and that was almost all that they did know.
When they came to the St. Lawrence, they imagined
that they had reached China from the East, and the
error was not discovered until they had called the place
La Chine, which name survives to bear witness to their
mistake. Here the Ottawa joins the St. Lawrence, but
the dark waters of the former flow for some distance
side by side with the more abundant stream, and the
line of demarcation is distinctly visible as far as the
rapids of Lachine, which blend the two rivers into in-
dissoluble union.
It might be supposed from the terms in which the
guide-books describe the act of shooting the rapids
of Lachine that it was as perilous a feat as shooting
the whirlpool at Niagara. It would certainly be so if the
graphic pictures of a vessel rushing down an incline of
seething waters between beetling crags were accurate;
but, in reality, it is quite possible for a not very observant
traveller to fail to notice that he and his ship were in an
unusual situation. The passage is performed twice a day
by the steamers of the St. Lawrence. The vessel glides
through a disturbed channel, and a rock appears above
the surface on either side. The vertical descent is not
very great, but the current is strong ; and the feat is
chiefly remarkable, not because of its visible terrors, but
as an admirable piece of steering, requiring great nerve
and accuracy. If the tiller ropes gave way, or the en-
gines failed at the critical moment, the result would be
fatal. The observation most commonly heard as the
vessel glides into calmer waters is, " When are we going
to shoot the rapids ? "
The distance between Montreal — the chief city though
not the capital of Canada — and New York is about four
hundred miles. The express, soon after leaving the
mean terminus of the Grand Trunk Railway, bears away
yo The Modern Odyssey.
to the left, and enters the tubular bridge crossing the
St. Lawrence. At this point the river is two miles wide,
and the cars are buried in the iron tunnel for fully six
minutes. The country between Montreal and the head
of Lake Champlain is flat and unattractive ; but from
Plattsburg, a port near the northern end of the lake, the
greater part of the journey to New York can be made
by water. The country traversed possesses not a little
historical interest, as up to the time of the Civil War
it was the battle-field of America. In the war of 1756,
as well as in the Revolution and the war of 18 13, the
shores of Lakes Champlain and George saw much of
the strife. Beyond the headland which partly encloses
the harbour of Plattsburg a British fleet was defeated
more than three-quarters of a century ago.
Champlain is a true lake, and not a sea in bondage,
like Huron or Michigan ; for though in some places a
water horizon only is visible to the north and south,
yet the lake is narrow, and while a yacht could sail for
a day without greatly altering her course, she would
never be more than a few miles from land. The surface
of the lake is usually tranquil, and its depth, amounting
in some places to sixty fathoms, gives a pure tone to the
colour of the water. Distant hills, islands of all sizes and
shapes, hanging woods, open sheets of water, narrow
channels and sounds, each tinted with a hue of its own,
compose the picture ; and the towns and villages on the
shore are seen at a distance sufficient to idealise the
commonplace appearance of an American town. One
side of the lake is sheltered by the wild Adirondacks,
the other by the terraces of the green hills from which
the State of Vermont derives its name. The jiurc, clear
air induces very beautiful and delicate effects of light
and shade. The hillsides on which the sun directly falls
arc imbued with a purple tint, while those which face
A Voyage ox Inland Waters. 71
towards the north arc a pale, smoky grey. Meadows
gleaming in the sunlight slope down to the water, with a
background of dark green on the higher land: a brilliant
copse, clothed with the autumn tints of crimson and
orange, intervenes between a pale blue sky and the steel-
grey lake, the colour of which is in places transmuted by
the reflection of the sky into an olive green : and as the
•steamer glides past a promontory, the vivid hues con-
trast with marvellous beauty with the subdued colouring
of the more distant landscape.
The Seven Years' War, as far as England was con-
cerned in it, was fought out mainly in America ; and
on the shores of Cham plain, in the heart of the Eastern
States, is the hill which was the most important strategic
position in a campaign between two adjoining European
Powers. Fort Ticondcroga stood midway between the
French colonies in Canada and the British colonics on
the Atlantic, and immense sums were spent by each side
in strengthening it. It was held by a British garrison
until the close of the Revolutionary War, but it is now
in ruins.
History records no more curious changes than those
which occurred during the third quarter of the iSth
century. In the early years of that period England and
I'Vance were contending for supremacy on the shores of
Lakes Champlain and George, a struggle which resulted
in France losing all her American possessions except her
plantation at the mouth of the Mississippi. A {qw \-cars
after, I^ngland was endeavouring to suppress a rebellion
caused by her attempt to make her American colonies
pay a share of the cost of delivering them from France.
She failed to do so, ami was exi)elled from the English-
speaking colonies ; while the settlements on the St. Law-
rence, which had but lately come into her possession,
and in which settlers of I-'rench nationality were an
72 The Modern Odyssey.
overwhelming majority, remained contentedly loyal to
her, though their fellow-countrymen in France were
actively aiding the revolutionary party. That the last
quarter of the i8th century should see England dis-
possessed of the colonies which she had herself founded,
yet retaining those of a rival European Power dissimilar
in habits, language, and religion, was a solution of the
American problem which no one would have thought
possible in 1750; but such is the caprice of history.
It is difficult to account for the persistent adherence
of the French colonies to the hereditary foe of France,
except on the supposition that either the lower orders
at that time were deficient in patriotism, the sublimest
form of selfishness, or that they had been so demoralised
by centuries of Bourbon misrule that they gladly sub-
mitted to any alien Government which treated them well*
The water journey from Montreal to New York is
broken at Ticonderoga by the neck of land which
separates Lake Champlain from Lake George. It is
hardly five miles in width, and the voyage is resumed at
Baldwin, a port at the northern extremity of Lake
George. To the Indians the lake was known by the
name of Horicon, or the Silvery Waters, but it was
re-named Lake George in honour of the Kitig by some
unimaginative British officer during the Seven Years'
War. Its waters have more than once been reddened
by the blood of English soldiers, and in 1758 an army of
15,000 men traversed it from end to end in a flotilla of a
thousand keels.
The lake section of the journey from Montreal to
Xcw York terminates at Caldwell, a village mainly
composed of hotels, and thence to the Hudson another
* It is a remarkable fact, which any traveller in the United States may
verify, that the citizens of a rci)uMic are far more patriotic than the subjects
of a monarchy, limited or absolute.
A Voyage on Inland Waters. 73
land gap of seventy miles must be crossed by train. Only
the first few miles are attractive, where the line, having
quitted the lake shore, passes through a woodland belt
clothed in all shades of red, carmine, brown, purple, and-
yellow, and skirts a placid tarn into which the birches
dip their boughs.
The splendid autumn foliage of the Northern States
of America is abso lutely the nK>st beautiful sight in ^
the world. \ Dark brown, purple, old gold, crimson,
blood-red, orange and brick-red are but a few of the
colours with which the maples deck themselves ; while
the lingering greens, which the first frosts of September
have not yet wholly destroyed, are mingled with all
imaginable brilliant hues of yellow and carmine. The
bronze and copper of the oak contrasts with the golden
and amber brown of the chestnuts, with the rich verdure
of the evergreen trees and with the fiery red of the
maples, through which the sunlight streams and reaches
the fallen leaves on the ground with ensanguined rays.
There are whole breadths of hillside where the pre-
dominating colour is crimson, yet every tree appears to
wear a peculiar tint of its own. Some of the maples are
still vividly green, with here and there a bright red
branch, or it may be only a single leaf, while others 'are
wholly a rosy gold. There is no limit to the variety of
the hues. While the maple affects the bright colours
when it puts off its summer vesture, the oak at the
approach of winter clothes itself in a garment of sober
madder-brown before shedding its leaves, and the pale
yellow foliage of the white birch is seen soaring above a
clump of dark green hemlock. The brilliancy of the
colouring in the sunshine cannot be adequately described,
and even when the sky is overcast the bright hues
on the earth seem to supply the place of the sunshine,
and the picture is almost as glowing as ever. It is
74 The Modern Odyssey.
a rare delight to tread a carpet of golden leaves in
avenues of crimson trees, and to gaze at bright colours
on every side ; for where the trees are not, there are
red shumac and purple dogwood, and fields littered
with huge orange pumpkins. An autumn landscape in
America is alone worth a voyage across the. Atlantic ;
and if it were faithfully reproduced on canvas, with
all its rich dyes, no one who had not seen the original
would believe that Nature could array herself in such
splendour. Nothing like it is ever witnessed in Europe
or even in the tropics, and it can, in fact, occur only in a
country where the alternations of climate are violent and
extreme, and where the rich growths of a hot summer
are suddenly chilled by the first frosts of the coming
rigorous winter. Such is the September environment of
a village in Massachusetts or Vermont.
The famous City of Saratoga, one of the chief Vanity
Fairs of America, lies on the route from Horicon to the
Hudson. Here, as in Europe, the presence of mineral
springs has been made an excuse for the assemblage of
fashion. Saratoga is at the present day to America what
in the last century Bath and Tunbridge Wells were to
Great Britain, an asylum for the jaded ; and if cmnii
has not yet established itself across the Atlantic as a
national ailment, the liver reigns in its stead. There is
no reason, except the medicinal springs, why Saratoga
should be a place of popular resort, for it lies on a
generally level country, and many other places excel it
in beauty. The surrounding scenery is pleasing but no
more. The streets are unkempt, but well shaded with
trees. The springs are in Congress Park, a small public
place in the heart of the town, laid out with terraces,
gardens, ornamental water, drinking halls, band-stands,
and a few pens of wild animals. The hotels are large
and unsightly. Many of the private houses are excellent
A Voyage o.v Inland Waters. 75
examples of domestic architecture, and in their way
cannot be surpassed. But, on the whole, Saratoga does
not appear to be a comfortable place. It is a Ramsgate
or Margate frequented by American belles and American
millionaires. It is a great al fresco hotel and little more.
Dancing, (water-)drinking, and dressing are its chief
occupations ; and when the season is over no country
town in England is more dull. The hotels are closed,
the streets are deserted, and then the poverty of the
natural attractions of Saratoga becomes manifest.
The undulating country between Saratoga and the
Hudson is occupied by small and busy towns. The
river Mohawk is crossed shortly before the train enters
Albany, the capital of the State of New York, and
almost the oldest city in the Eastern States. As in the
case of the county tow^ns of Great Britain, so also the
capital of an American State is often not the most
populous place in it. The Legislature is, therefore, re-
moved from the pernicious influence of the purely local
politics of a large city. In a perfectly ordered com-
munity the Legislature would meet in a wilderness ; but
as this would be inconvenient, it is well to choose a
small town for the place of assembly. Not that Albany
is a small town, but it would take twelve Albanys
at least to make up one New York, and therefore the
intensity of the influence of local politics may be esti-
mated to be less than one-twelfth.
The voyage from Albany to Xew York occupies nine
hours in those magnificent saloon steamers which have
achieved a world-wide reputation. The upper reaches
of the river are pretty, but not to be compared with
Lakes Champlain and George, or even with the St.
Lawrence. The surface is calm and bright. Low islands
covered with grass stand in the wa}-, many of them
having a lighthouse, or rather a lantern rising out ot
76 The Modern Odyssey.
a cottage roof. The shores are greatly disfigured by ice
stores and incUnes for hoisting the ice out of the water.
Shortly before the steamer reaches the city of Hudson,
the first view of the Kaatskills, or Wild Cat Mountains,
is obtained. The range lies to the west of the river,
beyond a flat belt ten miles in width. It is a striking
and compact mass, smoky blue in colour, and, though
hidden at one place by some intervening hills, it remains
in sight for some hours.
The Kaatskills, in the quaint and graphic language
of America, are termed one of the " side shows " of the
Hudson, and are much frequented. A white speck seen
on the mountains is the Mountain House, a large hotel
which offers to its visitors one of the finest views in
America. It is reached from the Hudson by a short
branch line, on which there is a station called Cairo.
The sense of geographical unity is not acute in the
United States. Not far from the Mountain House is a
dingle or gorge which may be explored for twenty-five
cents. A small stream runs through the ravine, but, as
the water supply is insufficient to supply a constant
cascade of sufficient volume, it is dammed at the upper
end and turned on like a stage waterfall for the benefit
of the twenty-five-cent visitors. In this simple manner
the deficiencies of Nature are rectified.
Below the city of Hudson the scenery changes ; the
reaches of the river broaden, islands are less frequent
The effects of light and shade upon the Hudson, its
banks and its hills, are very beautiful. The whole colour
of a landscape is often modified in a (ew minutes. Spots
that were gleaming in the light are suddenly darkened,
and hills that were pale are made purple. Part of a
wood is a rich dark green where a passing cloud inter-
cepts the sunshine, while the rest of it is a brilliant
emerald. Here the region explored and colonised by
A Voyage on Inland Waters. yy
the Dutch is entered, but the names of a few towns and
villages on the banks of the Hudson are almost the
only relics of the nation which once was in a fair way to
add America to the list of its colonial possessions. The
sedate river, never hurrying to the ocean, but tranquilly
pursuing its course, was more appropriately navigated
by Hudson and his quaint galliots than by the steam-
boats which now disturb its current. The sleep of Rip
van Winkle was not sufficiently prolonged. If he could
have seen a railway lining each bank, if he could have
heard the whistle of the New York Central Lightning
Express answered by the engine bell of the West Shore,
while the Vibbard ox the Albany were rushing down the
stream and overtaking a flotilla of twenty or more
barges, he would have had still more reason for be-
wilderment.
A great American city is an unlovely thing, a village
or town is a shabby ; but scattered at wide intervals
over the United States are small settlements which leave
nothing to be desired in the way of order, and in which
the roads are well graded and properly tended, the
public places neat and clean, and the impress of a
regular mind evident. These oases are the military
establishments of the United States, and, standing as
they do in the midst of a rough-and-ready countr}-, they
offer a welcome relief to the e}'e of a European traveller
made giddy by the whirl and turmoil of the great
machine which is called America. The Hudson has not
been fortunate in the towns and cities which have been
built upon its banks, and one of the noblest and stateliest
rivers in the world resembles a handsome but badly
dressed woman. One spot, however, upon its shores is
not unworthy of its honourable position, namely. West
Point, the Sandhurst as well as the Woolwich of the
United States. It stands on the plateau of a rocky
78 The Modern Odyssey.
promontory jutting out from the western bank a few
miles down the ravine by which the river makes its way
through the Highlands. The northward view from the
West Point promontory is very fine. In the foreground
densely wooded and rocky hills rise out of the water
on either side. One of them, now called the Storm
King, was formerly known by the name of Butterhill,
a title which its swelling sides suggested to the fat and
unimaginative Dutchmen of the 17th century. Here the
stream impinges upon the side of the headland, and
is deflected across to Constitution Island on the east
shore ; the water is very blue, and is streaked with satin
patches of calm where the wind coming down from the
glens has not touched it, and the hills slanting from
the river enclose a bright picture of the country above.
Pollock's Island stands near the entrance of the ravine,
with the gleaming city of Newburgh beyond it, and
in the far distance the faint outline of the Kaatskills
may be discerned. The hills for the most part are
cleared only at their bases. Towards sunset, when the
shadows have fallen over the plateau but have ni;t
yet reached theeast shore, the contrast of light and shadow
is very fine. The hills are darkened, but the further
bank is still glowing in the sunshine, while the river
remains almost as luminous as the sky above it.
It is not in architecture that the merit of West Point
lies, for all the buildings are of the American Gothic or
the American Classic order. It is rather its superb situa-
tion above the noble river, and the uncommon neatness
and order of the whole place, which strike travellers so
pleasantly. There is no din of traffic along bad roads,
no shabby wooden houses, no shops vying with each
other to attract attention, no promiscuous crowds rush-
ing to and fro. Even the railway is kept out of sight in
a tunnel runiu'ng under the plateau. The chief military
A Voyage on Inland Wat/:rs. 79
institution of the United States is not the place where
one would expect to find repose and quiet ; yet for the
greater part of the day it is as peaceful as an English
country village. The hush of it is weird. It is quite unique,
and seems out of its element on the banks of the chief
river and highway of the Eastern States. As a resting-
place from which the Hudson may be contemplated at
the most attractive part of its course, it is above praise.
_Every traveller should halt for a day or two at West
Point, and revel in its quiet, order, and natural beauty ;
for there are few spots in the more densely populated
States in which these qualities coexist.
The military buildings and schools are placed by the
side of a spacious parade ground on the plateau, and are
not remarkable in any way. The artillery trophies of
the United States army lie under the elms at the edge
of the table-land. Quaint Spanish mortars, green with
age, and siege guns marked with the arms of Bourbon
kings, are reposing on the turf, many of them inscribed
with names — such as El Titan, El Gabitan, or EI Ton-
ante. The latter is a handsome piece, belonging to the
period when art was applied to artillery; the chase is
tastefully ornamented with Jlciir-de-iis, and the cascable
is formed of a bunch of grapes. Close at hand are some
French field pieces, brought over by La Fayette at the
time of the Revolutionary War. Many of these also
bear names, and the words Le Faun, La Choquantc,
L'Anrorc, Gyges, and others, are still discernible at the
touch-hole, as well as the motto Ultinui ratio rcguni.
There are a icw British guns marked with the Ro)-al
arms ; one of them, which bears the date 1744, with a
ducal coronet and the letter M, was no doubt cast under
the second Duke of Marlborough, at that time Master
of the Ordnance. A link of the chain which was
stretched aross the river to prevent the ascent of the
8o The Modern Odyssey.
British gun-boats is also preserved. One or two cap-
tured British colours are hung up in the chapel, the
only place in the world in which such a trophy may be
found.
Half-way down the face of the northern slope is
placed the siege battery of breechloading guns used for
the instruction of the cadets. It stands immediately over
the mouth of the tunnel, and as the railway runs across
a shallow bend of the river towards the targets on the
face of the opposite hill, the line and the range are almost
parallel, and not very far apart. On the plateau is a field
battery of antiquated type. The guns are dirty, and even
a civilian notices the absence of the Woolwich polish and
smartness. The signal-gun on the pier-head of an En-
glish seaport is usually cleaner.
All West Point — that is to say, the ladies and officers
of the garrison, and a stray traveller or two from the
hotel — assembles on the plateau at the time of evening
parade. The band, headed by a druai-major whose
busby and plumes are the only magnificent things in a
somewhat plainly dressed army, strikes up ; and in
presence of an unmounted colonel, who stands silent,
motionless, and with folded arms, the battalion of cadets,
in light blue coatees, cut after the fashion of the pre-
Crimean period, goes through a {(^w movements with
mechanical precision. In contrast with the excellence
of the cadets' drill is the careless deportment of the
sentries belonging to the infantry detachment which is
stationed at West Point for duty. An American sentry
lounges in front of his post, or often at a considerable
distance from it, in a free-and-easy manner, sometimes
turning round to see what is going on, sometimes taking
a step or two backwards in zigzag. The soldiers at the
guard-house may be seen lying in chairs outside the build-
ing, reading newspapers or smoking pipes. The ways of
A Voyage on Inland Waters. 8i
an American Thomas Atkins would drive an English
adjutant wild.
In the evening, after sunset, perfect stillness reigns in
the place. The lights of Newburgh glimmer faintly in
the distance in the angle of the V formed by the hills
sloping down to the water. Long lines of lights slowly
ascending or descending the stream show that a train of
barges is winding round the headland; the twilight falls
upon the white sails of the schooners trying to beat to
windward against the current, and Mount Taunus and the
Storm King loom above the strand. All the sounds
come from afar, and are mellowed by the distance ; the
throb of the engines of the passing steamers is subdued,
and even the rumble of a freight- train on the further
shore does not strike unpleasantly upon the ear.
After emerging from the gorge of the Highlands, the
Hudson broadens out in many places to the width of a
lake ; and the Tappan Zee is a wider sheet of water than
any lake in Great Britain or Switzerland. Tarrytown,
at its northern end, is said to have derived its name from
the dilatory habits of the husbands of the place in former
days. The most interesting feature of the lower Hudson
is the Palisades, a cliff-line extending for many miles
along the west shore between Yonkers and Hoboken.
It is a range of natural columns rising out of the water
to an elevation of two or three hundred feet. The lower
portion is a steep slope formed by debris, and covered
with trees ; but above this the precipice is absolutely
perpendicular. Here Nature asserts herself with a last
effort, for at the southern end of the Palisades the
suburbs of Xcw York begin, and under the ver}- shadow
of the lonely cliffs, on the summit of which not a sign of
life appears, a sloop with a mainsail inscribed with the
legend "Smoke Blackwell's Mixture" is usually cruising.
The Hudson by night is more beautiful than the
G
82 The Modern Odyssey.
Hudson by day, because the darkness hides the warts
and moles with which American civiHsation has dis-
figured the fair banks of the river. The water is so calm
that a rose would cover the mirrored image of the moon,
and each bright star is reflected ; the village lights sparkle
everywhere, and even the chirp of the crickets can be
heard ; the air is soft and balmy, and filled with a soft,
ethereal haze, in which the retreating hills fade away:
— In spite of the Americans^ the Hudson is a beautiful
ri\cr
CHAPTER VII.
THE CANADIAN PACIFIC.
Every nation, as well as every individual, has its price.
When Canada complained that her interests had been
neglected in the negotiations preceding the Treaty of
Washington, the British Government tacitly acknow-
ledged the justice of the complaint, and offered to
settle the matter by guaranteeing the interest on a
portion of the money required to build a railway on
Canadian territory from the Atlantic to the Pacific.
The construction of the railway was one of the con-
ditions under which British Columbia had consented to
enter the Dominion ; and, without assistance from Great
Britain, Canada would have had difficulty in fulfilling
her part in the bargain. The proffered solatium was
therefore willingly accepted, and in fifteen years the
Canadian Pacific Railway was completed from ocean to
ocean.
In construction and equipment it compares fa\our-
ably with other pioneer railways on the continent. Tl:e
track is well laid ; and as. moreover, the speed of the
trains is not great, the motion >s as easy as that of a
sailing vessel in a calm sea, and the journey of nearly
a week by day and night, from the St. Lawrence to
the Straits of Georgia, is less irksome than might be
expected. The stations are buildings of good design,
which do not outrage the eye in the midst of forest,
G 2
84 The Modern Odyssey.
prairie, and mountain scenery ; the sleeping-cars are
comfortable, some of them being fitted with baths ; and
restaurant-cars, attached to the trains during the day,
provide fairly well-cooked and fairly well-served meals.
The conductors are always intelligent, and often agree-
able. The line is worked under the block system — a
refinement of caution on a railway over the greater part
of which but one passenger train passes in each direction
in twenty-four hours.
It is hoped that the Canadian Pacific Railway,
which owes its existence to a not very honourable com-
pact between Great Britain and her most populous
colony, may eventually become the established mail
route between England and China, Japan, and even
Australia. Whatever its imperial and commercial ad-
vantages may hereafter prove to be, few other lines
have so much to offer to the mere tourist. It traverses
backwoods and forests by the side of rivers and lakes,
and passes through some of the oldest cities of the
North American continent, as well as cities which have
sprung up during the last few months. It skirts the
northern shore of an inland sea, Lake Superior, and
threads its way through a chain of lochs lying eastward
of the Lake of the Woods. It skims over a thousand
miles of hot and dusty prairie before it climbs into the
Rockies, yet snow lies at midsummer in the pass by
which it crosses their summits ; and the cations of the
salmon rivers falling into the Pacific lead it down to
the sea at Vancouver. It also affords a glimpse of
almost as many varieties of social existence. In one
district every inhabited place is a French village ; in
another the only habitations are the log huts of the
backwoodsmen. In the prairies the broad wheat-fields
of Scotch colonies of crofters lie on either hand, and
cattle-runs, planted here and there with an Indian
The Canadian Pacific. 85
encampment. In the mountain district the clear surface
of a lake by the side of the railway is often wrinkled
by the prow of an Indian canoe ; mining camps are
frequently passed in the caiions of the Pacific slope,
and gangs of Chinamen are seen at work.
There are but two regularly fortified towns in North
America, and Quebec is one of them. The citadel and
the walls had been standing for many generations, and
had not heard a hostile shot for more than a century,
when the Canadian Pacific Railway chose for its ter-
minus a strip of low ground under the cliffs overhanging
the river St. Charles, near its junction with the St. Law-
rence. Quebec is unlike any other American city. It is
built upon a wedge of high land in the angle between
the rivers, and it is defended by ramparts, gates, mar-
tello towers, and ancient batteries. The streets are steep,
narrow, and quiet, and the tin tiles with which many of
the houses are roofed give them a quaint and mcdic-eval
appearance. The churches, convents, and other religious
buildings would not seem out of place in a country town
of Northern France, and the citadel towers above all like
^e^ fortress at Luxemburg. French is spoken almost
universally. At first it is difficult to realise that Quebec
is in the New World. Even its population is stationary,
an unusual circumstance in the life of an American city.
Here and there the civilisation of the nineteenth century
has intruded, but not sufficiently to destroy the indivi-
duality of the place. On the river, where one would look
for a barge floating down the stream, a steamboat of the
American type, with a walking beam and two tiers of
decks, is seen passing rapidly to the wharf under the
walls ; and to reach the upper town from the shore, it is
no longer necessary to climb the steep ascent of Cote de
la Montague, for a hydraulic elevator now runs from
86 The Modern Odyssey.
the Market Place up to the eastern end of Dufferin
Terrace. In other respects Quebec is as old-fashioned
as ever.
There was a time when Quebec was the most im-
portant place in North America. During a century and
a half the possession of it was disputed by English,
French, and Americans. Each nation has besieged it,
and has held it in turn : two of them have abandoned
it, and it remains in the possession of the third, which is
alien to the great majority of the inhabitants. Its day
has passed, and it is falling into obscurity. The river is
blocked with ice in the winter, and the Canadian Pacific
Railway is seeking access to the sea in lower latitudes.
As long as the St. Lawrence was too much encumbered
with shallows to allow vessels of large tonnage to go up
to ]\Iontreal, Quebec was the chief sea-port of Canada,
Now, however, that the bed of the river has been dredged,
there is nothing to prevent an Allan steamer of 6,000
tons from discharging her cargo on to the wharves of
Montreal ; and Halifax, a port which is seldom closed by
ice, has been brought into communication with Canada
by the Intercolonial Railway. The loss of commercial
importance will not affect the historical interest and old-
fashioned aspect of Quebec, but will rather tend to pre-
serve them, Tliere is no cause for regret that the hurry
and turmoil of the age have passed by Quebec, and have
left one place of repose in America — one little patch of
Europe in a vast wilderness of new things.
Montreal, the largest city of British North America,
has, like a widow remarried, borne three names. Hochc-
laga, the Indian name of the original settlement at the
junction of the Ottawa and the St. Lawrence, was quickly
changed by the French into Ville Marie, which in turn
gave i:)lace to Montreal. Though it lacks the bustle, fever,
and turmoil of a United States' city, ^Montreal seems to
-^
The Canadian Pacific. 87
be really and solidly prosperous. The streets are well
paved, the houses substantial, and the churches hand-
some if not altogether pleasing in appearance. McGill
College is a severe and learned-looking edifice of grey
granite. The French and Scotch elements prevail ; the
latter in the commercial quarter of the city, the former
in the smaller streets, where the names above the shops
and the absence of sash windows would almost make the
passer-by imagine that he was in a town of Picardy. St.
Helen's wooded island, lying in mid-stream in front of
the wharves, offers a good view of the spires and domes
of the city, with Mount Royal in the background.
From Mount Royal a superb panorama of the sur-
rounding country is obtained, and it would be hard to
find a more beautiful scene. The summit can be reached
without toil, as an elevator — a machine used almost
universally in America — runs up the side of the hill to
within a short distance of the top. An observatory at
the highest point rises above the level of the trees, and
the view is unbroken in every direction. The red city is
seen lying at the base, with the towers of Notre Dame
displayed upon a background of river, and on the
horizon above them are the grey-blue hills of Vermont.
The branches of the Ottawa which form the fertile
island on which Montreal is placed can clearly be traced
in the midst of green fields ; the course of the St.
Lawrence coming out of the west and widening into
a lake where it is joined by the main channel of the
Ottawa, is marked out by a blue track, which after
many miles is finally lost to sight on the eastern
horizon ; and the long tubular bridge, which the
Canadians, with pardonable vanit)', have styled the
eighth wonder of the world, is seen spanning the river
with a distressingly rigid line. On the slope of a minor
hill, overlooking a shallow valley hemmed in by trees on
88 The Modern Odyssey.
either side, and enclosing a lovely glimpse of blue dis-
tance and near meadows, a toboggan slide, another dis-
cordant object which disturbs the harmony of the scene,
has been erected, and in a hollow between two spurs of
the mountain gleam the white stones of the Cemetery in
the midst of brilliant autumn foliage. The entire surface
of Mount Royal is thickly wooded and covered with
ferns and shrubs, but pathways and zigzag roads give
access to every part of it, and at a hundred points are
revealed glimpses of forest, tilth, pastures, woodlands,
rivers, and plains gradually merging into the blue hills
on the horizon as they recede from view.
The Ottawa, which is the chief purely Canadian
river, has not yet been thoroughly explored to its source
in a little-known part of the country, but the Canadian
Pacific Railway follows it from Montreal to Mattawa,
a distance of more than 300 miles, passing through the
city of Ottawa on the way. The Pacific Express leaves
Montreal in the evening, and traverses a flat country,
where the fireflies are seen sparkling in the herbage,
and the rays of the moonlight glittering on the metal
spires of the Roman Catholic churches of the French
villages ; and as the train stops at the wayside stations
the profound stillness is broken only by the occasional
bleating of a sheep or by the plash of a distant waterfall.
The City of Ottawa is also accessible from Montreal
by water. The steamer starts from Lachine, above the
rapids, and enters the lake formed by the confluence
of the St. Lawrence with the smaller river, and calls
at many a quaint French village on the shores of
Ottawa's broad curving reaches bounded by wooded
bluffs. The navigation is not continuous, and at the
portage round the Carillon Rapids passengers are carried
over a short line of railway and transferred to another
steamer which runs throucrh to Ottawa.
The Canadian Pacific. 89
At the beginning of the second quarter of this
century, there was a colonel of the Royal Engineers
who was remarkable for having the shortest surname in
the language. He was called By, and yet it fell to his
lot to lay out a city on the banks of the Ottawa, which,
in his honour, was called Bytown.
As Bytown it existed for twenty-seven years, when the
fate which overtakes women and Canadian cities came
upon it, and it exchanged its name for that of the river
on whose banks it was built. In the course of time
Ottawa was chosen as the seat of Government of the
Dominion of Canada, a vast extent of country ex-
tending from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and bounded
on the north by the palseocrystallic fields of the Arctic
Ocean.
Ottawa is a clean and prosperous place. All the
streets are lined with trees, and all the sidewalks are
planked. The houses are usually built of boards, lathed
and plastered inside, and often veneered on the outside
with bricks. The Houses of Parliament, with the ad-
jacent Public Offices, are a handsome range of buildings
standing on a bluff overlooking the river, and in design
are rather suggestive of a Clapham hospital or asylum.
The grounds are exceedingly well kept, and contain a
few specimens of the inevitable Russian guns taken in the
Crimea. The Ottawa runs at the foot of the slope, and
would be an ornament to the picture if the water were
visible. The lumber-stores and saw-mills of Hull, a suburb
of the city, discharge all their refuse into it, and convert a
beautiful river into a common sewer for chips and saw-
dust. A narrow streak of dark water may here and
there be discerned, but the greater portion of the surface
is concealed. The Chaudicre Falls, which suppl)- power
to the saws, are in like manner disfigured by stacks and
flumes and other accessories of the timber trade. Ottawa
90 The Modern Odyssey.
is wholly given up to timber. Even the air is laden with
the scent of sawn wood, and the river is but a machine
for conveying and cutting up fir trees. The logs are
hewn in the interior and cast at random into the water,
which bears them sometimes two hundred miles to their
destination at the Chaudiere Falls, and then meekly
carries away the refuse. When the river is low the logs
are caught by the projecting headlands, or are blocked
by the rocks in mid-stream, and in many a lovely,
solitary reach the scene is robbed of half its charm by a
dam of many thousands of derelict trunks, stripped of their
bark, and identical in size and shape. A special service
of men and boats is maintained in order to disentangle
the logs and send them forth again on their journey
to Ottawa. But a far greater eyesore, however, are the
skeletons of the burnt trees where a clearing has been re-
morselessly made in the backwoods. Fire is unfortunately
the only practicable method of removing the timber
so as to adapt the land to agricultural purposes. After
leaving the banks of the Ottawa, the line passes through
scores of miles of wildernesses of charred stumps and
forests of bare poles standing gauntly above the under-
growth. In the burnt woods a few white birches, which
are not so easily set on fire as the firs, alone survive the
conflagration. The railway itself is often the only place
in which a green thing is seen flourishing, and wild
strawberries and blueberries may be gathered almost
under the wheels of the engines.
It is probable, however, that one natural feature will
remain unchanged until the end of time. Forests may
be converted into tracks of wood ashes, but all the
mischief of man will never be able to lower the level
of the lakes by so much as one inch. They appear
constantly in the landscape, and of every si/.e, frf m the
tarn of an acre in extent, and covered with water-lilies,
The Canadian Pacific. 91
to the inland sea on which a ship might sail for two days
without sighting land.
The line, after approaching but not touching Lake
Nipissing, passes through a woodland region, and reaches
Lake Superior at Heron Bay. For nearly two hundred
miles it runs along the northern shore of the largest
of the American lakes ; sometimes striking inland for
a short distance across the base of a promontory ; some-
times winding in a serpentine course by the side of
inlets and creeks ; sometimes carried on a ledge in the
cliffs rising abruptly from the margin, or on a wooden
bridge of slender appearance which spans a cleft in the
hills. A chain of islands lies near the shore, and between
them are caught glimpses of the open lake, which only
differs in appearance from the sea in that its waters are
bluer and clearer. Many of the islands and hills on
the mainland are in shape a high plateau separated from
a shelving base by almost perpendicular dark-red cliffs.
In a continent which extends 3,000 miles from
east to west, it would be inconvenient to have one
universal time, which in extreme cases would make
12 of the clock occur nearly two hours before or after
the real noon. For travelling purposes, it would be still
more inconvenient if every railway station observed local
time. North America has, therefore, been divided into
zones or sections, bounded b}' certain meridian lines,
and in each of these the time differs by one hour from
the time in the adjacent sections. These are four in
number, and in them Eastern, Central, Mountain, or
Pacific time is respectively observed. Thus, in travelling
from one place to another lying east or west of it, the
change of time is not made gradually, but at certain
specified places on the journey, just as on board ship the
clocks are always altered at a certain time, namely, at
92 The Modern Odyssey.
noon. On the Canadian Pacific Railway the first change,
from Eastern to Central time, is made at Port Arthur,
where the line leaves Lake Superior for the Prairies ; and
in less than a week the overland traveller to the West is
again compelled to alter his habits to the extent of
several hours after having already done so while crossing
the Atlantic ; so that by the time he reaches the Pacific
he practically dines, goes to bed, and breakfasts nearly
nine hours later than he was accustomed to do less than
a fortnight before in England. Thus it happens that
most people on arrival in America feel unusually sleepy
in the evening, and yet find it difficult to prolong their
rest in the morning.
Another radical change is introduced at Port Arthur.
It has been left for the Canadian Pacific Railway to do
that which the revolutionary American of the United
States never ventured to propose, namely, to effect
an alteration in the method of counting the hours, and
to introduce into America a system long in use in Italy.
In the time-tables of the transcontinental trains, which
travel for six days and nights, it would be difficult to
distinguish readily, several days in advance, the hours
a.m. from the hours p.m. if they were numbered in
the usual way, and the bold step of numbering them
from I to 24, beginning at midnight, was taken. Thus
4 o'clock in the afternoon becomes 16 o'clock, and
10 o'clock at night becomes 22 o'clock. At first it is
puzzling to be told by a station-master that a certain
train is due at 23 minutes past 15, or to read in a time-
table that it will leave a certain place at 18.29; but the
system has many advantages, and saves much confusion
in long journeys. It has also been adopted on the
railways of India.
Port Arthur is a harbour on the north-west shore
of Lake Superior, sheltered by islands and the pro-
The Canadian Pacific. 93
montory of Thunder Cape, which was once an active
volcano. At Fort William, a few miles further on, the
train halts for an hour to replenish the tanks and
refrigerators with water and ice, an operation which is
performed once or twice every day during the journey.
The sun is sinking towards the plains of the West as the
train quits the lake shore and steams away to the
prairies through a wooded district traversed by a chain
of small lakes lying around the Lake of the Woods,
which the line touches at the lumber settlement of Rat
Portage. In the cool and quiet evening after sunset it is
utterly delightful to stand on the platform between
the cars and watch Canada flying past, with its woods
looming in the darkness beneath the starry sky, while
every now and then the gleaming surface of some
solitary lake in which the heavens are mirrored, flashes
out of the gloom.
A few miles within the eastern boundary of the
prairie lies the brisk and prosperous city of Winnipeg,
v/hich in a very i^v^ years has grown from log-cabinhood
to cityhood ; and as the majority of the houses are
detached, it covers a large area in proportion to its
population. Its most striking feature at present is the
large number of telegraph and telephone wires which
run along the main street.
Although the prairies extend for many hundred
miles, with their wide expanse of herbage seldom raised
or depressed more than a few feet above or below the
normal level of the plain, they are not monotonous or
lonely with the loneliness of a calm ocean. The little
things which elsewhere would pass unnoticed here thrust
themselves into view. Thus, it is pleasant to observe by
the side of a solitary dwelling a swing, to show that the
children are not forgotten. The swallows twitter to
the travellers in the train from under the caves of a
94 The Modern Odyssey.
coal-shed where they have built their nests. A cluster
of Indian tents, with horses grazing around them, is
seen near at hand : the children rush out to stare at
the train just as they do in all other countries. A
handsome brave, spoilt by the cast-off clothes of civilisa-
tion, travels on the platform of the car for a dozen miles.
Sometimes a line of low trees, curiously raised above the
horizon by the mirage, appears in the distance, and
where the ^redJjHes and the marigolds grow the prairie
is carpeted with bright patches of colour. The little
gophers peer inquisitiv'ely out of the grass, and the
prairie dogs are enthralled for a moment ; but fear soon
overcomes curiosity, and they scuttle away from the line.
A very shallow valley, in which a few trees are
growing, carries the Assiniboine towards the Arctic
Ocean, and the next feature in the landscape is Gull
Lake, a sheet of water to which all the birds of the
continent seem to have flocked. A few rising towns arc
passed, regularly planned and built, and an agreeable
contrast to the random assemblage of slovenly structures
which constitutes a new settlement in the United States.
On a bend of the Saskatchewan, lined with trees and
sheltered by the bluffs which the impinging waters ha\"e
formed out of a (ew slight eminences, is a township
bearing the quaint name of Medicine Hat. As the
train draws up in the midst of the neat and compact
little town, the platform is gay with the familiar British
red tunics worn by the troopers of the North-West
Mounted Police, a small body of men, by whose gentle
yet firm control those Indians are restrained who on
the other side of the frontier engross the attention of
the greater portion of the United States' Army.
The crossing of the plain from Winnipeg to the foot
of the Rockies occupies two da)-s. To a native of an
undulating country-, the prairies are at all times at-
The Canadian Pacific. 95
tractive, but they are most beautiful in the evening, when
the horizontal rays of the sunset light skim along the
surface, imbuing it with a peculiar tinge and lengthening
the dwarf shadows.
In the evening of the second day a long, serrated line
of mountain-peaks, nearly uniform in height, appears
on the horizon, soon to be hidden by the approaching
gloom of night. The moon is seen shining once more
upon the waste ; but next morning, at daybreak, the train
is climbing the eastern slope of the Rockies, and has
almost reached the summit of the Kicking Horse Pass.
Torrents struggle with the rocks by the side of the
track ; cascades fall almost upon it ; icy crags and ridges,
intersected by ravines and crevices choked with snow,
tower above it. The air is chill at last : the sun dazzles
on white peaks. In a little while the Kicking Horse
River, racing with the train to the westward, shows
that the highest portion of the pass has been sur-
mounted, and a halt is made for breakfast at a pretty
Swiss chalet, built by the Canadian Pacific Railway
on the side of a hill. The line then descends to a
trough — which is, however, some thousands of feet
above the level of the sea — separating the main range
of the Rockies from the detached spur of the Scl-
kirks, and runs down the valley of the Columbia River.
Tall, slender pines — the finest trees in the world — once
covered the sides of the mountains, but forest fires, some
of them still smouldering, have laid bare the slopes, or
have left only the naked trunks. Sometimes a shell of
bark is all that remains to show the former stature of the
giants, the fire ha\-ing hollowed out the resinous trunk
like a cylinder. It is a melancholy sight. Wherever the
railway is, there also is a belt of ruin and destruction.
Many of the ravines arc so choked with smoke that only
the peaks of the opposite hills can be seen. The dim
g6 The Modern Odyssey.
forms of the maimed cedars loom through the haze, half-
charred logs and broken branches meet the eye on every
side, and the valleys languish in the fumes of the burn-
ing wood. The miner or pioneer lights a fire with a
careless hand to boil his kettle, forgets to rake out the
ashes, and in a icw weeks a stately grove is destroyed ;
and the railway contractor, who wantonly sets fire to the
forest as the easiest method of removing a few trees out
of his way, completes the ruin. When the fire has once
laid hold of the timber it is inextinguishable, for the
meandering torrents will avail neither to quench the
flames nor to bar their progress, and it is probable that
in a year or two hardly a cedar will be left within sight
of the line.
The Beaver is but a mountain-torrent abounding
in waterfalls, and hurrying precipitately down the east-
ward slope of the Selkirks, yet it shows the path by
which they can be scaled. The line runs along a ledge
on the side of the valley; crosses the intersecting ravines
on trestle bridges, one of which is nearly three hundred
feet in height ; soars above the smoke in the gorge, so
that the patches of snow on the further side can be dis-
cerned ; enters a pass which but three years before the
opening of the railway had never been trodden by the
foot of man ; and, after running under snow-sheds at
the base of an almost perpendicular precipice, emerges
on to the Pacific slope.
Here the scenery changes ; a valley, hemmed in by
lofty, snow-clad ridges, is crossed on a looped curve, and
the canon of the Eagle River and brighter wild flowers
appear. In many places gangs of Chinamen are seen at
work, or cooking their rice by the side of the line. As
the day wanes the pure light from the north-west falls
from above the dark hills upon Shuswap, a solitary lake,
whose calm surface is wrinkled by the evening breeze
The Canadian Pacific. 97
and streaked by the lines diverging from the prow of an
Indian canoe. The railway runs along the shore for
nearly fifty miles, and at the lower end the river which
entered the lake so boisterously issues from it a broad
and tranquil stream, with trees on its banks and meadows
sheltered by the mountains. Soon the Eagle joins the
Fraser, where again the railway takes a river as its guide
to the Pacific, and runs down the canon into a green and
marshy district bright with flowers. The^s^wi^^ covered
with blossoms of the purest white, the handsome leaves of
the wild raspberry, the vivid green of the ferns mingling
with the vermilion elder-berries, and the pink flowers of
the fireweed line the track until the train emerges from
the woods on to an inlet of the Pacific. The smell of the
sea is in the air, and the seaweed is growing side by side
with the herbage of the land.
The train halts for a few minutes at Port Moody,
and brings the journey of three thousand miles from the
Atlantic to the Pacific to a close at the western terminus
of the Canadian Pacific Railway in the new City of Van-
couver, a place which is perhaps destined some day to be
the rival of San Francisco. It is inappropriately named,
as it is not situated on the island of that ilk, but on the
mainland of British Columbia.
II
CHArXER VIII.
CALIFORNIA, A LOST JEWEL.
During the first quarter of the present century the
Pacific coast of North America belonged nominally to
two nations occupying the extremities of the European
continent. Spain, though separated from Russia by the
width of Europe, marched with her in the New World.
It is true that Great Britain claimed a portion of the
coast-line midway between the Spanish possessions and
Russian America ; but when Florida was ceded to the
United States, the Spanish King made over also all his
rights to the Pacific coast north of the 42nd parallel,
and the Government of the United States, with its usual
policy of claiming more than it expected to obtain, as-
serted that the territory thus transferred extended as far
north as the Russian line. The meekness of the British
I-^orcign Office when dealing with the United States is
phenomenal ; but a claim which would exclude the
British North American colonies from the Pacific sea-
board was impossible, and the Oregon boundary ques-
tion was established as a point of contention between
the two nations. Great Britain proposed that the Colum-
bia Ri\er, which rises in the Selkirks and flows southward
and westward until it reaches the Pacific in Lat. 46 N.,
should be the dix'iding line between the United States
and British Ccilumbia. The main point of the dispute
was arranged by the Treaty of itS46, under which Great
California, a Lost Jewel. 99
Britain, having abandoned her claim to Oregon, secured
the Pacific coast from the Straits of San Juan northward
as far as what was then Russian America.
Simultaneously with the loss of Oregon, Great Britain
let slip the golden possession of California, which for
a time was within her grasp. It belonged nominally to
the Mexican Republic, but the hold of that Government
upon it, like the hold of all Governments of Spanish
origin upon distant possessions, was insecure. The pro-
vince was ripe for insurrection, and juntas were in session
openly proposing to transfer the allegiance of the
country to Great Britain. Moreover, an Irish priest
named Macnamara, in intimate relations with the British
Legation in the City of Mexico, had obtained from the
Mexican Government a grant of land to the extent
of several square leagues on the Bay of San Francisco,
where he proposed to found an Irish colony under the pro-
tection of England, and he was landed at Santa Barbara
from the British frigate Jiuw in order to carry out
his scheme of colonisation. A few bold strokes, a little
audacity and good fortune, and California would have
been added to the list of British colonics. But suddenly
an American explorer, who had already visited the
country, swooped down like an eagle from the Rockies
upon the Pacific shore and threw all the plans of the
British part)- into confusion.
In the corps of Topographical Engineers of the
United States" Army was an officer named Fremont, the
son of a Frenchman who had left his country during the
convulsions of the Revolution, and whose ship had been
captured by an ICnglish man-of-war while on passage to
San Domingo. The exiled Frencliman spent some \-ears
in caj^tivit}' as a prisoner of war in one of t!ic W'c; t
Indian Islands, but at length escaped and landcel in
Virginia. His son avenged his lather's ca[)ti\il\- b)-
II 2
lOo The Modern Odyssey.
becoming the instrument by which CaHfornia was
snatched out of the opened hands of Great Britain.
The younger Fremont had already made a name as
an explorer. In 1843 he had been in command of an
expedition sent to explore the country lying beyond the
then existing frontier of the United States, and he had
succeeded in crossing the Rockies into Oregon and
California. No sooner had he set out on this expedition
when orders of recall were sent to him from Washington,
on the pretext that he had without authority taken away
with him a military equipment for his party which the
peaceful nature of his geographical pursuit did not
warrant — he had requisitioned a small mountain howitzer
in addition to his rifles.
The orders of recall were sent to St. Louis, where his
wife was residing. She detained them, and to this act
of hers the United States are indebted for the possession
and Great Britain for the loss of California ; for if
Fremont had returned he would not have had an op-
portunity of displaying those qualities as an explorer
which led to his being sent on another expedition to
California in the year 1845, which yielded such splendid
results. This expedition, like the former one, was wholly
of a scientific character, and none of Fremont's men were
soldiers.
When he reached California he left his party at a
spot two hundred miles from the sea, in order to avoid
giving offence to the Mexican authorities at a time when
the Texas question had strained the relations between
the two countries, and proceeded alone to Monterey, the
residence of General Castro, the Mexican commandant,
from whom he requested and obtained permission to put
his expedition into winter quarters in the San Joaquin
vallc}-, between the Sierra Nevada and the coastal range,
and to continue his explorations further to the south.
California^ a Lost Jewel. ioi
While, however, he was on the march in the Buenaventura
valley he received a message from General Castro order-
ing him to retire at once from the country, and in-
formation arrived that troops were being assembled to
enforce the order. The Mexican Government were not
unnaturally suspicious of the presence of an American
officer in a part of their territory which was ripe for
revolt.
Fremont thereupon retired to Pico del Gabellan, or
Hawk's Peak, a mountain in the Sierra overlooking the
plain of Monterey, where he could see Castro making
preparations to attack him. He roughly fortified Hawk's
Peak and raised the flag of the United States. On the
fourth day the flagstaff fell. He accepted the omen,
broke up his camp, and retired north into Oregon, being
unwilling to do anything that might embarrass his
country at such a critical time. A letter from Castro,
offering a cessation of hostilities and basely proposing
that they should in combination declare the country
independent of Mexico, and assume the government of it,
reached Hawk's Point only a few hours after Fremont
had quitted it, and while the ashes of his camp fires were
still glowing. Hitherto he had done nothing likely to
lead to the annexation of California to the United States
or to prevent its absorption by England. His visits
to the country had been solely in the character of an
explorer conducting an expedition of civilians. The
final impulse had yet to be given to him.
In the middle of March, 1846, he quitted the neigh-
bourhood of Monterey, having been forced by the hostile
attitude of the Mexicans to abandon his design of
making explorations in the south, and went northwards
with the intention of returning to the United States by
way of Oregon. He had reached Lake Tlamath, which is
just within the southern boundary of Oregon, when In's
102 The Modern Odyssey.
further progress was stopped by the wild nature of
the mountainous country and by the opposition of the
Tlamath Indians, One morning early in May, as he
was encamped by the lake shore, he was astonished to
see two white men approach. They had only escaped
massacre at the hands of the Indians by the fleetness
of their horses, and they proved to be part of the escort
of a United States' officer of Marines who had been sent
with despatches from Washington for Fremont, and who
was nowencamped within reach of him. A sixty miles' ride
along the shore of the lake brought Fremont to Gillespie.
The latter's despatches were apparently unimportant, for
besides some private letters — the first Fremont had
received for nearly a year — there was only an ordinary
letter introducing Gillespie to Fremont from Buchanan,
Secretary of State and afterwards President of the
United States. The letter was expressed in terms which
should not excite suspicion if it should fall into hostile
hands as the bearer crossed Mexican territory. But
very much was written between the lines, and in the
private letters from Fremont's father-in-law. Senator
Brunton, there were obscure and enigmatical passages.
Gillespie, moreover, was charged to impress upon him
the necessity of watching and counteracting any foreign
scheme in California, and of conciliating the good-will of
the people towards the United States.
The chance meeting of Fremont with Gillespie in
the wilderness, by the shore of a lake in an almost un-
known country, infested by Indians, who that very night
killed three of his men and compelled him to retire to
his former camp on the northern end of Lake Tlamath,
diverted the current of his life, and converted him from
an explorer into a soldier. He hurried back into Cali-
fornia, and reached the valley of the Sacramento at the
end of Ma}'. The country was in a state of anarchy. A
Califor.xia, a Lost Jewel, 103
powerful clique was agitating for annexation to Great
l^ritain ; large portions of the public lands were being
transferred to British subjects ; a British fleet was ex-
pected on the coast ; and a massacre of the American
colonists was a very probable catastrophe. All these
contingencies were averted by the energy and boldness
of Fremont. He placed himself at the head of the
American settlers, who eagerly took service with him,
and in a month all the country north of the Bay of
San Francisco had shaken off the yoke of Mexico, and
an independent Government was established under the
Bear Flag — an emblem chosen on account of the fighting
qualities of the White Bear of the Sierra Nevada, which
never flies before its enemies, however numerous, and is
noted for its courage in extremities. [Meanwhile a power-
ful British fleet was preparing to pounce down upon
the prize from its anchorage in the Mexican harbour of
Mazatlan ; but the American commodore at the same
place easily outwitted the English admiral. He weighed
and put to sea, steering towards the Sandwich Islands,
and was quickly followed by Sir George Seymour. He
tacked, however, during the night, and the eluded admiral
was left to perform his voyage to Honolulu alone. When,
after some weeks, the latter anchored in Monterey Ba\', he
was astonished to find that the city was in the possession
of Commodore Sloat, and that the American flag was
floating over it.
Fremont in the meantime was marching towards the
coast, and as he approached Monterey he heard that
Commodore Sloat was in possession of the town, and
that war had been declared between Mexico and the
United States. The White Bear flag was hauled down,
and the Stars and Stri])es hoisted in its place. The
accounts differ on the in-i[)ortant point whetlicr Sloat
knew of the war when he arri\-ed off Monterc\-. lie
I04 The Modern Odyssey.
certainly ofTcrcd to salute the town, but the courtesy
was declined, on the plea that there was no powder to
return it ; in reality, because the people were daily ex-
pecting the l^ritish fleet. It was not until he heard of the
approach of Fremont that he ventured to seize it. He
certainly hesitated some days before doing so, and he
appears to have had misgivings — which were not allayed
when he found that Fremont had no positive orders to
commence hostilities — as to whether he was justified in
taking the place without instructions from his Govern-
ment. He resigned the command of the fleet almost
immediately to Captain Stockton on the plea of ill-health,
and returned home. He succeeded in outmanoeuvring the
British fleet, but after that coup he seems to have lacked
courage to incur responsibility. Fortunately for the
United States, his hesitation did not entail the loss of
California,' which, at the conclusion of the Mexican war,
was formally incorporated into the Republic ; and the
frontier that had so lately been traced upon the bed of
the Missouri and the Mississippi was pushed forward to
the Rio Grande and the Pacific.
The year 1846 is, with two exceptions, the most
notable epoch in the history of the United States.
While Zachary Taylor, under whom served two officers,
Jefferson Davis and Robert Lee, who, eighteen years
after, became the most conspicuous men of their age, was
reducing Vera Cruz and the City of Mexico, Stockton
and Fremont subdued California, whither, in a short
time, the discovery of gold by a Swiss settler attracted
the restless spirits of every nation, and brought tlie
original Thirteen States* — which but seventy \-ears pre-
viously had almost all of them been within the sound of
* Surely the wonderful prosperity of those Thirteen .States and
their pro;4eny should have long ago discredited the superstition that
the number is unluckv !
California, a Lost Jewel. 105
the Atlantic waves — into a commanding position upon
the Pacific, while the peaceful acquisition of Oregon
extended the shore-line as far north as Cape Flattery.
Before 1846 the solitary undisputed possession of the
United States on the Pacific was the coast included
between the 42nd parallel and the Columbia River, and
was separated from the ICastern and Central States by a
wide expanse of country, known only to the Indians, and
by two ranges of mountains. Now four lines of railway
traversing settled districts link the Atlantic seaboard to
the Pacific.
The life of Fremont, the virtual conqueror of Cali-
fornia, is distinctly a stirring and picturesque life, such
as falls to the lot of few Americans. His mother had
been married at the age of seventeen to a man forty-five
years her senior, from whom, after many years of misery,
she was divorced by a special Act of the Legislature of
Virginia. His father was her second husband, a French
exile. At the age of nineteen he was expelled from
Charleston College on account of an honourable but
unfortunate affair of the heart. He spent two years and
a half as naval instructor on board the United States'
sloop Xatchez, and on his return he was appointed assist-
ant engineer in a railway survc)-ing party. His capacity
as an explorer, shown in two expeditions organised by
the War Department, gained for him — although he had
never graduated at West Point — a commission in the
corps of Topographical Engineers. During tlie next few
years, until the outbreak of the Mexican War di\'crtcd
the current of his life, he was engaged in exploring the
unknown country lying on either side of the Rockies.
Now he was following the devout example of the pio-
neers of the 17th century, and engraving upon the
granite face of some crag the figure of the Cross ; now
he was planting the flag of his country upon the highest
io5 The Modern Odyssey.
peak of the mountains, which still bears his name. At
one moment he was fighting for his scalp and his life ;
at another he was sitting down at a lodge of friendly
Indians to a banquet of stewed dog ; and once, in
Utah, he and his party were in such danger of perishing
by starvation that each man took an oath against canni-
balism.
While engaged in the subjugation of California he
was a victim of the system of dual government which
then existed in the newly annexed province. Both Com-
modore Stockton and General Kearney claimed to be
the supreme authority ; and Fremont, who adhered to
the former, under whom he had placed himself after the
departure of Commodore Sloat, became involved in a
charge of mutinous conduct towards General Kearney.
A duel between him and a certain Colonel Mason, arising
out of the affair, was postponed once because his ant-
agonist had chosen double-barrelled fowling-jjicccs as the
weapons of the combat, and but one double-barrelled
gun could be found in the country ; and again by the
peremptory orders of General Kearney. Fremont was
sent under arrest to Washington, where he was tried for
mutiny and disobedience. The feeling of military men
was against him for his deference to a naval rather than
a military commander, and he was found guilty on all
the charges and sentenced to be dismissed the service,
with a recommendation to the clemency of the President
on account of the peculiar situation in which he was
placed in California. Popular sentiment ran strongly in
his favour. President Polk confirmed the finding, but
remitted the sentence in consideration of Fremont's
public services. IIov>-ever, he resigned his commission
without delay, and resumed for a while his old occupa-
tion of explorer. When California was admitted to the
Union, he fittingly became her representative in the
Cauforxia, a Lost jewel. 107
Senate, and a few years after he was nominated a
candidate for the Presidency.
It might have been thought that an officer to who n
his country owed a large area of exceedingly rich terri-
tory and a commanding position on the Pacific coast
could not have outlived the gratitude and esteem of his
fellow-citizens. Nations, however, are often no less for-
getful of their benefactors than individuals, and shortly
before Fremont's death in the summer of 1890, it was
announced in a telegram from Washington in the
London newspapers that " the Treasury officials have
discovered that the United States have, since the year
1850, owed General John C. Fremont the sum of $21,000,
and a warrant for that amount has been sent to him.
His surprise was so great at this unexpected windfall
that he fell fainting on the floor. General P'rcmont had
been living almost in poverty for many years past."
Vancouver, the western terminus of the Canadian
Pacific Railway, is on Burrard's Inlet, a creek of the
Gulf of Georgia, which is not a gulf but a sound
separating the island of Vancouver from the mainland.
The voyage from the city of Vancouver on the main-
land to Victoria on the island of Vancouver occupies
six hours. As the steamer paddles down the inlet, the
conical form of Mount Baker, almost entirely covered
with snow, is seen right astern, and continues in sight
throughout the passage of sixty miles. Other snow-clad
peaks of the Cascade Range rise behind the blue-grey
hills near the shore, and towards the south the stately
forms of the Olympic Range in Oregon loom, nearly
ninety miles distant.
After crossing the sound, the steamer's course passes
close to the island of San Juan — the stakes lost by Great
Britain in her latest contest with American diplomac}- —
loS The Modern Odyssey.
and is threaded through the wooded islands and islets
l)'ing off the eastern shore of Vancouver, A large seg-
ment of the horizon is obscured by the smoke of forest
fires which also settles in the creeks and sounds, and
drifts lazily to leeward over the water, often entirely
hiding the numerous rocks ; and a pillar of smoke, or
even a mass of flame, is seen in almost every island.
Although the smoke destroys the beauty of the scene
— a calm sound, studded with densely wooded islands,
and overlooked on two sides by lofty ranges — it neverthe-
less produces some very curious effects of colour where
it mingles with the mountain clouds and receives the
rays of the setting sun under the clear blue vault of
the heavens above.
The city of Victoria, the capital of British Columbia,
is well situated on the south-eastern extremity of Van-
couver Island, where the Straits of San Juan de Fuca
join the Gulf of Georgia, opposite to the mouth of Puget
Sound, which runs for some distance into Oregon. Here
the Straits are about twenty miles in width, and from
the further shore rise the massive forms of the Olympic
Range, which poise themselves in all their grandeur
above the middle belt of water. If the Pyrenees or the
Alps could be removed from their own place and built
up again upon the French shore of the Straits of Dover,
and could be seen from the Lees at Folkestone or the low_
coast of Romney Marsh as they towered over the Channel,
some idea of the stately appearance of the Oregon moun-
tains would be obtained.
Victoria is a cheerful if not a very beautiful place.
An I'mglish air perx'ades the streets ; the people, though
busy, are not in a hurry; and the houses, though built
of wood, are tidy and comfortable. Like Winnipeg, it
appears to live by electricity; it is lit by the electric light,
and, though it has not ten thousand inhabitants, the poles
Califorxia, a Lost yp.wr.i.. 109
in the chief thoroughfare support as many wires as there
are in the Broadway of New York. Many of the duties
of domestic service are performed by Chinese, who, on
the Pacific coast, are imported to supply the lack of
labour. As in all new countries where land is cheap, the
city occupies a large area for its population, the majority
of the houses, except in the business quarter, being sur-
rounded by gardens. An Indian reserve adjoining the
Chinese quarter brings the two most dissimilar races of
mankind into companionship.
Two peculiarities arc at once noticed in Victoria.
One is that the women's fashions, as might be expected
in an island of the Pacific six thousand miles from Paris,
are, save in a very few cases, several years in arrear; the
other is the custom of placing outside the shops slates
on which orders may be written. Even the services of a
physician may be bespoken in this primitive manner.
The head-quarters of the British fleet in the Pacific
are at Esquimalt, a land-locked harbour three miles
from Victoria, from w^hich it is reached by a good though
dusty road, through woods of pine, cedar, and flowering
shrubs. Cattle with bells on their necks are seen feed-
ing by the wayside, and the only habitations are two or
three of the public-houses which flourish so exceedingly
in the neighbourhood of a British naval station. Esqui-
malt — the word is commonly pronounced almost as a
monosyllable, thus " 'Squim'lt " — is a small haven, ac-
cessible from the Straits of San Juan ; and since the
opening of the Canadian Pacific Railway its strategic
importance has greatly increased. It is connected by
railway with the Vancouver collieries at Nanaimo, which
supply the Pacific coast with coal.
A railway, starting from Puget Sound, and traversing
the scene of Ercmont's wanderings in Oregon, joins the
shores of the Straits of San Juan to the Bay of San
no The Modern Odyssey.
Francisco ; but the trains are slow and the journey
is tedious, and the majority of travellers will prefer a
voyage of sixty hours along the Pacific coast to a land
journey of but slightly less duration and involving a
larger share of discomforts.
The steamers running under the flag of the United
States from Pugct Sound to San Francisco are comfort-
able and of moderate size and speed. The course for
the first six hours after leaving Victoria is in the fairway
of the Straits. The noble Olympic Range gradually sub-
sides into wooded hills in the direction of the mouth,
and the scenery loses its sublimity and grandeur. The
steamer rounds the lighthouse on Cape Flattery, stand-
ing on a rocky ledge at the extreme north-west corner
of the United States, and ambles easily before the fresh
north-west trade wind on a due south course along the
coast of Oregon, which, though never very far distant, is
usually obscured by the mist. The voyage is uneventful.
Hardly a ship is seen, and probably the only incident
will be the sight of a whale spouting ; a puff of spray
suddenly rises from the w^ater, resembling the column
sent up by a shot striking the surface. If the harbour
of San Francisco is entered at night, the constellations of
the electric and other lights dotted over the low hills on
which the city is built make a very beautiful display.
The conditions of existence in some of the newer States
of the Union are brought vividly to the notice of a.
European traveller when he observes that the first in-
quiry made by a passenger of a friend whom he has
recognised on the wharf is whether any more Chinamen
have been lately lynched in the Pacific States. The
hasty methods of lynch-law, which for a long time was
the only authority feared by the early settlers in Cali-
fornia, are now put in force chiefly against Chinamen
and ncc/roes.
Cal/foka'ia, a Lost Jfavel. hi
Little more than half a century has elapsed since the
first house was built on the site of San Francisco, which
is now one of the most important cities in the world, yet
which, in spite of its superb position on a commodious
haven, might never have attained its present magnitude
if its development had not been artificially stimulated by
the discovery of gold in the valley of the Sacramento. It
is built upon the landward side of the southernmost
of two tongues of land which jut out from the coast and
enclose a loch having two arms. The tongue, in its
original condition, was mainly composed of barren hills
of loose sand intersected by ravines and gulches ; but
these have been filled up and adjusted to a more uniform
level, and the city stands for the most part upon a
gently undulating surface. It occupies at present about
half the width of the tongue, and the sand-hills lying
between it and the Pacific shore show what was the
appearance of the whole promontory fifty years ago.
Soon, however, the firs and gum-trees which have been
planted on the dunes will convert them into a pleasing
range of green life. The northern side of the Golden
Gate — as the entrance to the harbour is called — is
formed by precipitous and rocky hills of that pale
chocolate or lilac colour so often seen in Sicily and the
South of Italy. In California the four seasons prevailing
in most parts of the world are reduced to two — the
wet and the dr\-. During the latter season the wind
blows continual])- from the north-west, freshly in the day-
time, but sinking to a calm at night ; and the haze
which it brings with it from the ocean dims the colouring
and obscures the more distant details of the beautiful
scenery of the harbour.
The cit\- cind the transformed sand-spit on which it
stands are interesting rather than attracti\e to a tra\eller.
Some of the streets are wide and lined b\- handsome
112 The Modern Odyssey.
houses, and all the more important there ughfarcs are
served by Hnes of cars drawn by an underground cable,
which drags them at an even speed over all inequalities
of the ground. In the eastern quarter all the side-walks
arc paved. The two largest hotels are the finest in
America, and, when the comforts which they offer are
taken into consideration, the most inexpensive; but their
colossal dimensions raise misgivings in a country subject
to earthquakes. Some of the private houses in the
suburbs, though built of wood and very elaborately
decorated, are handsome structures. The extent to
which individual liberty of action is carried in America
is manifested in the bonfires and fireworks that blaze
upon occasion in Market Street ; and the owner of a
telescope obstructs the foot traffic and earns a com-
petence by setting up the instrument on the side-walk
and charging ten cents for a peep at a planet. Though
the wharves are crowded with shi})ping, only a few large
steamers such as would be found in an Atlantic port arc
seen, the foreign trade being chiefly carried in the finest
sailing vessels in the world. Opposite to San hVancisco,
on the shallow mainland shore, is the city of Oakland,
the terminus of the continental lines. The trains run to
the head of two long piers, which stand in water suffi-
ciently deep to allow the ferry-boats to come up to the
cradles. The jetties arc more than two miles in length,
and reduce the water transit between San Francisco ancj
its continental suburb to three miles.
The most attractive spots in the neighbourhood of
San I-'rancisco are the Golden Gate Park, the Presidio,
and the Cliff House, all lying between the city and
the Pacific. The first docs infinite credit to the Cali-
fornians. What was originally a stretch of low sand-
hills has l:)ccn converted into a very beautiful garden
in the midst of newly made park-lands covered with
California, a Lost Jfavel. 113
trees and shrubs. Not far off is the Presidio, a name in
which the old Roman military term Presidium ap-
propriately survives, as it is the headquarters on the
Pacific coast of the United States' Army. Like West
Point on the Hudson, it is an oasis in the desert. The
grounds are kept in perfect order ; the paths and roads
are smooth and tidy ; the barracks are neat buildings,
and the officers' quarters are charming cottages covered
with roses and other climbing plants, and standing in the
midst of lawns and gardens gleaming with geraniums
and fuchsias. The Cliff House is an hotel overlooking
the sands near the entrance to the Golden Gate, and
is as quiet and solitary as it is possible to be in the
neighbourhood of a great American city. Close to the
shore is a rock covered with seals, who here have a
sanctuary established by law, and proclaim their im-
munity by grunting incessantly as they bask idly in the
sun just out of reach of the gentle waves of the Pacific.
CHAPTER IX.
OBSERVATIONS UNDER THE HAWAIIAN FLAG.
Great Britain, France, and the United States, having
mutually agreed neither to annex nor establish a pro-
tectorate over the Sandwich Islands, the Hawaiians, in
grateful acknowledgment of those nations' forbearance in
not taking what did not belong to them, adopted as the
national flag an ensign combining the Union Jack, the
Tricolor, and the Stars and Stripes in one piece of
bunting, which is one of the handsomest that ever
drooped from a stafif. Only American-built vessels are
allowed to be registered under the American flag, and
therefore, though the steamer Australia of 3,000 tons is
officered and manned by Americans, and is owned by
citizens of San Francisco, and plies thence to Honolulu,
the fact of her having glided from a slip on the Clyde
precludes her wearing the Stars and Stripes, and obliges
her to take refuge under the ensign of a little, half-
civilised kingdom in the Pacific, whose merchant navy a
few generations ago was composed of outrigged canoes.
When Captain Cook landed at Oahu he estimated that-
the inhabitants of the Sandwich Islands, who then wore
no clothing except a girdle of matting, numbered more
than a quarter of a million. A century has passed, the
matting has been discarded in favour of European
clothes, and the population has dwindled below a
Observations under the Hawaiian Flag. 115
hundred thousand. These survivors enjoy the blessings of
popular government ; their Army is a force of sixty men,
and their Navy is a steamer that once was employed in
carrying stone on the river Tay.
It does not very often happen that San Francisco is
visited by royalty, and when on a certain July afternoon
the report spread through the city that Queen Kapiolani
of the Sandwich Islands had arrived, and would spend a
night in the Palace Hotel before embarking in the
Australia for Honolulu, the sensation of the previous
week, namely the lynching of a Chinaman in Colusa
County, was eclipsed. Next day the citizens flocked
to the wharf where the steamer was lying, and her spar-
deck was soon packed with Republicans eager to set
their eyes upon a Queen ; nor did they forget to observe
the charming American custom of offering flowers to the
departing traveller. One table in the saloon was covered
with wreaths and bouquets, and a floral arch bore the
legend Aloha. This is a word of indefinite signi-
fication in the musical language of Hawaii. It may be
used to express the sentiment " I love you," as well
as the compliment " You pretty thing," or the parting
wish " Farewell." Many other vague and romantic ideas
are contained in it, and it might be introduced with
advantage into other languages.
A fresh breeze was blowing as the Australia passed
through the Golden Gate, but it had almost died away
when the Farallonc Islands, which lie within sight of
the shore, were abeam. The vo)'age was calm and
pleasant. The attendants of the Queen, most of them
bearing titles of State, clustered round their Sovereign
like the personages of a comic opera. In the evenings
there was music on deck, and the Hawaiians pla}-cd
their guitars and sang native ballads and English songs
with taste and skill. The pole-star sank lower and lower
I 2
ii6 The Modern Odyssey.
towards the northern horizon, and every night new
constellations rose out of the sea. Flying fish darted
out of the water, and skimmed over the tiny waves like
white fairies at play, and the sea was often so smooth
that the images of the goonies flying round were re-
flected on the surface. Even when the nearest land was
more than a thousand miles distant, the sea-birds were
still following the ship, and how they were able to
support their existence so far from the shore, with no
place whereon to take their rest except the heaving
waters, was a question which no one could answer. The
Pacific appeared to differ greatly from the indigo blue
of the Atlantic and the purple of the Mediterranean, for
in colour it resembled a lovely and translucent gem of
violet hue.
The Aiistralia, ambling easily over the little waves at
the rate of three hundred miles a day, accomplished her
voyage in less than a week, and on the seventh morning
the island of Molokai, half hidden by clouds, was sighted
on the port beam, and soon after Oahu appeared right
ahead. Though the channel between the islands is
thirty miles wide, Kaniehameha the Great, a monarch
who has been styled the Napoleon of the Pacific, trans-
ported across it in war canoes at the beginning of this
century an army which, as far as its numbers went,
would even in these days be considered a useful addition
to the military forces of a European Power. An idea of
the magnitude and difficulty of the operation may be
obtained by supposing an army corps, destined for the
invasion of France, to have been conveyed across the
British Channel in such boats as are found on the shore
at Deal, Dover, and Folkestone.
As the ship ncared the southern promontory of Oahu,
the island on which Honolulu, the capital, is situated, a
green fringe of trees gradually formed upon the shore.
Observatioxs uxder the Hawaiian Flag. 117
A range of serrated hills runs towards the north, and
ridges are thrown out on each side down to the sea.
The westward ridges are green, and pleasant to the eye,
as the eastern trade winds form clouds on the watershed
which discharge the moisture they have stolen from the
Pacific on to the western slopes. When the Australia
had rounded Diamond Point, a headland formed by the
crater of an extinct volcano, it was evident that she had
entered the tropics, for a grove of cocoanuts was growing
on the terrace at the foot of the hills, and the belt of
calm, sapphire water encircling the shore was enclosed
by a reef The Hawaiian Navy approached the ship,
and the pilot came on board to conduct her through the
gap in the coral which forms the entrance to the harbour
of Honolulu. The Queen, having bestowed a Hawaiian
decoration upon the captain of the Australia, went over
the side into her own vessel and landed in state, while
H.B.M.S. Conquest and an American sloop manned
yards and fired a royal salute. Some of her subjects
remarked that she had adopted the European fashion
of wearing stays, and the curtain fell amid thunders
of applause upon the last act of the comic opera of
Kapiolani.
Meanwhile the Ajistralia, with her humbler residue of
mere subjects and citizens, steamed slowly to the wharf,
and befouled the clear water with the mud churned up by
her screw. The landing-stage was packed with natives
who had flocked to sec the wonderful sight, just as the
natives of Folkestone and Dover flock to the piers
when the French steamer is due. Human nature appears
to be cast in much the same mould all the world over,
and that which agrceabK- occupies the idle moments of
the maid or matron of Kent is no less diverting to her
dark sister of the Pacific. The quay glowed with the
voluminous forms of women adorned with leis or wreaths
1 1 8 The Modern Od ysse y.
round their necks, and dressed in bright cottons, cut
after the fashion of a night-gown ; and half the men ot
Hoijolulu were there to take care of them.
■^'"''^ There are not many pleasures which can be com-
pared to the delight of seeing the tropics for the first
time. Everything seems so strange and beautiful. The
sky is clear ; the sun shines in earnest all the day long,
and throws the shadows of unknown foliage on to the way.
There is nothing dowdy or dingy in the scene. Rich
colours abound on the shore and the hill, and a calm
blue ocean lies beneath the azure heavens. The trees are
covered with flowers ; clusters of golden fruit hang from
the graceful branches ; aromatic shrubs scent the air ;
dragon-flies, looking as though they were clothed in
scales of some bright metallic ore, dart in and out among
the boughs. It seems like fairyland to the traveller from
the sombre skies and neutral colours of the temperate
zones. After a brief interval of twilight, the serene night
comes ; the breeze dies away, and all is still except the
crickets and the katydids, and the gum-trees rustling
their leaves with the sound of a rivulet rippling over the
stones. Even the stars are changed, for they shine
without twinkling, as though to show that they, like the
lovely world beneath, are at rest.
Honolulu stands by the sea-shore, upon a narrow
plain at the foot of the hills, which give it a background
of dark green ridges and ravines. Near the wharves are
a few regularly built streets, but the greater part of the
city is composed of detached houses and cottages sur-
rounded by gardens, and it therefore occupies a wider
area than many European towns of three or four times
the population. The roads and side-walks are in better
order than those of New York, and stepping-stones are
placed at the crossings — an accommodation which was
provided in the streets of Pompeii two thousand years
Observations under the Hawaiian Flag. 119
ago. The network of telephone wires and the electric
lamps indicate the prevalence of American resources of
civilisation, while the teams of draught oxen recall the
primitive methods of bucolic Europe. The shops are
expensive, but fairly good considering that they are
distant some thousands of miles from the base of their
supplies. The large number of hackney carriages plying
in the streets betray the disinclination of the Hawaiians
to use their legs for locomotion. The roads are dusty
by nature, but they are assiduously watered and kept
tolerably clean. Honolulu supports three daily papers,
which, owing to the circumstance that the Sandwich
Islands are not yet connected by telegraph with the
rest of the world, are always in distress for news, except
on the day after the arrival of the mails from Auck-
land, Yokohama, or San Francisco. In the meantime
the columns are filled with extracts from American
and English journals. The harbour is small, but busy;
several American schooners or ships are usually moored
to the wharves ; every day one or more of the steamers
trading between the islands enter or leave it : while,
at longer intervals, large mail steamers on their way
to or from China or Australia spend a few hours in
the port. An excellent band that would do credit
to Vienna plays every day in the public places, and no
European orchestra indulges in shorter pauses between
the pieces.
But the chief attraction of Honolulu to a European
eye is its trees. Mangoes grow at the corners of the
streets, and every garden is shaded by tropical foliage.
The Acacia is found in many varieties — the golden Mohur,
with its rich green leaves and brilliant red flowers, a sight
worth crossing many miles of turbulent ocean to see; the
Monkey Pod, with its lilac blossoms and sensitive leaves,
which close upon one another at nightfall; the Tamarind,
I20 The Modern Odyssey.
with its pods filled with subacid fruit ; the Algaroba,
with its rope-hke yellow flowers. The handsome Royal
Palm waves its broad leaves over a grey stem marked
with rings ; the Fan Palm and the Traveller's Palm —
which yields a stream of pure water if an incision be
made in the bark — intercept the rays of the sun. Every-
where half-ripe dates are lying on the ground ; bamboos
adorn green lawns ; the Papaia, another variety of palm,
with the leaves of a fig-tree and the flowers of a jasmine,
is not uncommon ; and within a stone's throw of a
busy street, limes, alligator pears, bread-fruit, cocoanuts,
mangoes, bananas, and pomegranates may be plucked.
Pepper trees, Norfolk pines, and banyans with branches
falling to the earth and taking root anew, stand among
the palms, and the most common shrub in the gardens
is the croton. Nor are flowers wanting. More hybiscus
can be picked in a few minutes than all the conserva-
tories of an English county could produce ; creepers
with white flowers cover the garden fences ; oleanders,
alamandas, and the purple leaves of the bourgainvillea
which are flowers in appearance, grow as plentifully as
hawthorn in a hedge.
At the back of the city is the crater of an extinct
volcano, to which the characteristically British name of
Punch Bowl has been given. It is reached by an easy
climb of half an hour, and the slight exertion is amply
repaid by the view, and the cool breeze constantly blow-
ing at the summit. At the foot of the hill is a green
plain, with the tops of the trees rising to a uniform
height above it, and forming, as it were, a carpet to it,
out of which a few only of the buildings emerge ; for
Honolulu is a city in a forest, and the houses, none of
them being of great elevation, are almost completely
hidden by the foliage. Towards the south lie the water
meadows near the shore, and groves of cocoanuts in the
OnSERVATIOXS UNDER THE HAWAIIAN FlAG. 121
distance. The hills of the western district of Oahu are
seen faintly across an intervening arm of the sea, and a
white streak of surf shows the position of the coral reefs,
and encloses the island in a silver girdle of foam. A
disused battery of dismounted guns overlooks the city
from the brink of the crater. In the rear the volcanic
ridges ascend gradually to the summit-line of the moun-
tain chain which traverses the island, and their green
slopes show the abundance of the rain that falls upon
the heights. But it rarely happens that a shower lays
the dust in Honolulu, for the clouds formed on the
water-shed by the eastern trade winds are usually
dissolved before they reach the zenith of the city.
The clear air, the rich colouring by land and sea, the
absence of all sombre and wintry hues, make the
picture unrolled beneath the dumb crater very pleasing
to the eye.
A few miles from Honolulu lies the sea-side village
of Waikiki. The road emerges from the city in an
avenue of villas, surrounded by very beautiful gardens,
on to a green plain, across which the hills send their
tributary streams to the belt of clear water inside the
coral reefs, and which is bounded by the brown and
scarred slopes of another extinct volcano, known by the
name of Diamond Head. A grove of cocoanuts, stand-
ing at the base of the cone, is a conspicuous feature in the
landscape. After leaving the suburb, the road tra\erses
the irrigated fields where the bananas arc grown which
supply America and Australia with fruit, liamboos and
other tropical trees overhang it ; the handsome castor-oil
plant flourishes in the waste places at the side ; and the
pools formed b\' the water channels are bright with red
lilies and gold-fish. The village of Waikiki stands on a
common separated froni the sea by a row of cottages
and a belt of cocoanuts. On the strand purple flowers
122 The Modern Odyssey.
grow almost to the water's edge ; the little crabs scuttle
in and out of their sandy haunts ; and within the coral
breakwater, which robs the waves of half their mischief,
the native outrigged canoes, dug out of a single trunk,
pass to and fro.
CHAPTER X.
A VOYAGE ON THE SOUTH PACIFIC.
August 6th. — At sea: Lat. ly" 27' N., Long. 159° 16'
W. The Mariposa reached Honolulu yesterday morning
from San Francisco, and was advertised to leave for
New Zealand at 4 p.m., but at that hour many tons of
coal had still to be stowed away in the bunkers, and it
was nearly sunset before we were steaming out to sea.
The delay caused great satisfaction to the dense mass of
Hawaiians on the wharf, and it would be churlish to
grudge them a prolongation of their simple pleasures.
The Mariposa is a tolerably comfortable American
steamer of about 3,000 tons, capable of doing her fifteen
knots an hour without much difficulty.
Many of the passengers of the Australia are on board,
including some young men who have lately graduated at
Oxford. They are full of high spirits, and spend most of
their time in throwing things at each other. They sprawl
over the deck, break the chairs, talk slang, wrestle and
bear-fight in a playful way, and get up early and lounge
around in scanty apparel. In their spare moments they
play a feeble kind of cricket, and feel aggrieved if the
American contingent occupy the quarter-deck with the
equally feeble game of shuffleboard. This morning they
put two fire-axes in the General's berth. They are good
fellows of the egotistical type, with an irrepressible pre-
judice against everything that is not British.
124 The Modern Odyssey.
Ajigust 8//a— Lat. 6° 49' N., Long. 162^^ 44' W.
The Australian and New Zealand newspapers, which
the Zcalandia brought to Honolulu for the use of the
Mariposa, are a welcome change after the shrieking
sheets of the States. It is quite a relief to see a column
of intelligence not disfigured by interpolated headings in
violent language wrenched from the context, and to find
a comparative freedom from personalities. Some of the
American journals make one regret the invention of
printing. We greatly miss the musical Hawaiians of
the Australia; none of the Mariposa's passengers are
musical, and the evenings, which last from six o'clock
when dinner is over, until eleven when the electric light
is extinguished, are broken only by a school - treat
aftair of tea and cake at eight, and are very long and
tedious.
How pleasant it is when voyaging on a lonely ocean
to hear the sound of a voice that recalls the far-away
shores of Albion ! When one of the female passengers
in the saloon asked for " 'oney," and spoke of " honions"
and the " 'ealth hofficer," tears welled up into many
eyes.
August 9//!.— Lat. \° 56' N., Long. 164° 8' W. At
nine in the eveningwe crossed the Line. The barbarous
ceremonies customary on board British ships upon the
occasion are not observed on board the American
3[ariposa, and the day passed away almost without
incident. There was a fog for half-an-hour or so in the
forenoon, and the steam whistle was blown once or
twice, though it is very unlikely that there is a ship
within several hundred miles of us. After sunset the
Southern Cross came in sight, a little on the starboard
bow. It should have been visible before, but hitherto
the southern horizon has been clouded in the evening.
The constellation is disappointing : it is not a very
A Voyage on the South Pacific. 125
distinct feature in the sky, and the outHne of the four
stars suggests a kite rather than a cross.
August \2th. Lat. 13*^ 31' S., Long, 170° 20' W.
The Southern Pacific appears on the chart to be so
thickly studded with islands that it would seem that
a ship could not sail for half a day without sighting
some of them, yet the first land seen by Magellan on
his voyage from Cape Horn across Polynesia was the
Philippine Islands in the China Sea, though he must
have passed through more than one of the clusters. On
the voyage between Honolulu and Auckland the only
land usually seen is Tutuila, an outlying island of the
Samoan group. We sighted it at mid-day, and at 4 p.m.,
when the island was close abeam, the Mariposa's engines
were stopped, in order to transfer a few mail bags to a
German cutter which was waiting to take them to Samoa,
sixty miles away.
The green slopes of Tutuila, rising to a central table-
land, contrast pleasantly with the monotonous waves we
have been ploughing for a week, and seem so tantalising
to us, whose only exercise has been pacing up and down
the deck. An hour's ramble along the gleaming sands,
3r a climb up the hillside, would have been a delightful
episode ; but there was no time to go on shore, much as
we longed for it. A few canoes, full of natives of both
sexes, came off to the ship. They are handsome and
intelligent, and are well aware of the value of the dollar.
The race of simple-minded savages, ready to part with
half their possessions for a handful of beads or toys, is
almost extinct. Some of the men clambered up the side,
and offered war-clubs, said to be made in Berlin, for sale ;
while others swam round the ship and dived for coins.
They wear little clothing, but appear to take particular
care of their hair, which they tone down to a dull chest-
nut colour with a dressing of lime, and plaster with clay
126 The Modern Odyssey.
When the screw began to revolve and the canoes fell
astern, the men on deck threw the unsold clubs into the
water, and quickly jumped over the side after them, and
joined the shoal who were sporting in the little waves.
Hardly a breath of wind was stirring as we lay off the
island, and the rays of the sun beat fiercely down upon
the deck ; but as soon as the Mariposa reached the open
sea we met the south-east trade wind, and, for the first
time since leaving the Sandwich Islands, felt comfortably
cool.
August 13///. — Lat. 18° 24' S., Long. 172*^ 24' W.
The ladies played cricket, and the men played with the
baby. She is a wan, quiet thing, and seems already
weary of life. She will lie for hours on her pillow, hardly
moving, except to lift her little hand in the air. Her
beautiful eyes open in dreamy wonder at the waves, and
she appears to be glad when the sun falls upon her. She
watches the sea, and the people as they pass by on the
deck, but she never cries ; she turns instinctively to the
light, and sometimes a faint expression of mute pleasure
comes over her pale face. She recognises her new friends,
and takes hold of their hands gently with her feeble
fingers, but her touch is hardly felt. Poor, sweet wee
thing !
August ijth. — Lat. 32° 12' S., Long. 178'' 47' 1^:.
Though yesterday was the 15th, to-day is the 17th. A
whole day was thrown overboard as we crossed the
1 80th meridian. Some vessel bound to the east will
pick it up, so it will not be lost to Time. The loss of a
day is not to be regretted. Most of us would have done
foolish things ; and at least we should have eaten more
than is good for us. There are many critical periods
when it would be very convenient to obliterate a day
from the calendar^ as Captain Ilayward of the Muri/Odii
has (iunc with a stroke of his pen.
A Voyage on the South Pacific. 127
In this region of the south we seem to have escaped
beyond the reach of Time. Let one of the many islands
that are threaded on to the i8oth meridian be chosen as a
place of refuge for those who rebel against his tyranny,
where the almanack could be manipulated at will by
stepping across the line of extreme longitude. Thus,
any date that was de trop could be cancelled by a stroll
before breakfast. No one need have a birthday, and all
inconvenient anniversaries would disappear.
At noon we were 344 miles distant from Auckland,
N.Z. The voyage has been pleasant; the Pacific has
maintained the reputation of its name; and the passen-
gers have improved upon acquaintance. The stewards
are uncouth, and the cooking is bad, but things might be
worse. To-morrow, if all is well, we shall be in Austral-
asia. All the news that has been pent up during tlie last
few weeks will be let loose upon us. In twenty-four
hours we shall be in telegraphic and postal communica-
tion with the rest of the world — a prospect which is not
altogether alluring to some of us who have been sailing
for a month across the calm waters of the Pacific.
August i^th. — A bright, fresh morning, and the sea
whitened by a brisk breeze from the south-east. The
shapes of the outlying islands were visible on the horizon
before breakfast, and the violet tint of the water gradually
changed into a green slate colour.- At ten we were steam-
ing into the Gulf of Hauraki, abreast of Great Barrier
Island, a hilly, volcanic mass, showing no signs either of
cultivation or of habitation. Its northern extremity is
curiously broken off into pinnacles, springing abruptly
out of the sea ; and the hillocks and rough ground upon
the sides produce very pretty effects of light and shade.
Midway in the entrance to the Gulf is the Little liarrier,
a regularly shaped island having low cliffs on cither side,
which rise by gentle slopes to a central rugged ridge.
128 The Modern Odyssey.
The Gulf, at the head of which stands the city of Auck-
land, is fifty miles in length, and is land-locked on three
sides. The mainland appears to be generally flat, except
where the craters of extinct volcanoes lift their heads
above the normal level ; and as this is the middle of
winter, the colouring is sombre.
At 2.30 p.m. we were abreast of Rangitoto, a wide,
low island, resembling a shield both in plan and in outline,
for it is quite symmetrically shaped, and the boss is
formed by a volcanic cone in the centre. A four-sailed
windmill of English design, standing on the hill behind
the city, is the first object that strikes the eye on entering
Auckland harbour.
A slight examination of our hand baggage only,
comprised the whole of the initiatory rite at the Custom
House, and with very little delay a crowd of travellers,
who had been cooped in enforced inaction within an area
oi 300 feet by 40, found themselves roaming at large upon
a spacious island ; and never before did it seem such a
luxury to climb a steep hill ! Not only did the Northern
Club extend its hospitality to some of the ]\Iariposds
passengers, but also telegraphed their names on to the
club at Napier, in order that they might have a picd-d-
terre on their arrival in Hawke's Bay, It was very
pleasant to sit down once more to a well-cooked dinner,
in the company of English gentlemen, after a fortnight's
experience of the experiments of the Mariposa s cook, in
the society of nondescript travellers, and Americans who
ate water-melons by the chunk and talked perpetually of
dollars.
The weather is bright but cool, and though but a {q.\v
days have elapsed since we crossed the Line, a blazing fire
in the club smoking-room was acceptable. A farewell
visit to the Mariposa — which sailed for Sydney at 10 p.m.
— to say farewell to such of our late fcllow-passengcrs
A Voyage on the South Pacific. 129
who arc good-looking or agreeable — brought the first
day in New Zealand to a close. A very cursory ex-
amination makes out Auckland to be a soberly pro-
sperous and comfortable place, devoid of the rush and
bustle of an homologous American city, with which,
in its cleanliness, order, and good general appearance,
it favourably contrasts ; and the English look of the
inhabitants is so striking that it is difficult not to rush
up to them at once, and shake hands with them all as
old friends !
August \(^tJi. — If it is not rash to generalise from a
single instance, the trains on the New Zealand railways
are the slowest in the world. The distance between Auck-
land and Oxford is about 140 miles, yet the train to-day
spent more than eight hours in covering them. Even a
Welsh train could give the 8 a.m. from Auckland a start
of two hours and a beating over the same course. The
stations, however, are neat buildings, and the line is
fenced in. For some miles after leaving Auckland the
railway traverses a country which only differs in ap-
pearance from many parts of the North of England,
Anglesc}-, and Pembrokeshire in the volcanic cones
which are frequently a conspicuous feature of the land-
scape. The fields and pastures are neatly separated
by stone walls, and the yellow blossoms of the furze
give colour to the scene. There is a scarcity of plants
of larger growth, the Pinus iiisignis and the trcc-fcrn
being the only growths larger than a slirub. Further
towards the .south the country assumes a character of its
own. The low, undulating hills are co\'ered with fern
scrub and ti-shrub, out of which cabbage trees, a plant
resembling a palm, rear their heads here and there.
Blue mountains appear in the distance, and the W'aikato
River meanders slow!) o\er a plain in which few signs
of cultivation are seen. At almost ever\- station a Maori
130 The Modern Odyssey.
woman is loafing about, smoking a briar-root pipe — not
a lovely sight. Oxford, where the railway across the
North Island at present terminates, is a solitary settle-
ment of a few wooden houses in the midst of the scrub.
A greater contrast to the English city of that name
could not be found.
The evening was cool and fine, and a stroll through
the dense undergrowth of w-ithered ferns was very de-
lightful after a day spent in a sauntering train. Hardly
a breath of air was stirring as the sun went down and
enriched the brown hues of the surrounding hills with his
red light.
August 20th. — The habit of early rising is one of the
most demoralising forms of dissipation. It encourages
selfishness, egotism, and pride. The early riser is in-
sufferable. He is always reminding his friends of his
performance, and is as proud of having seen the sun
appear in the east as a cat is of her first kittens. He
has no respect for the feelings of those who do not care
to get up before the world is well aired, but whistles,
sings, and makes a noise with his bath and his boots on
purpose to disturb tlicm. He inhales with the morning
breeze an arrogant and provoking air of superiorit}', and
pretends to domineer over the world on the strength of
a restless disposition which prevents him taking his rest
at customary hours.
Still, there are occasions when early rising, like
homicide, is excusable — as, for example, when a traveller
has before him a journey by road of two hundred miles,
and when the coach leaves Oxford at 7 a.m. for the hot
springs of Rotorua, thirty-five miles distant. The morn-
ing was so fine, bracing, and frosty, that the loss of a
few hours of repose did not matter for once in a way,
esi)ecially as the goal of the day's journey was the most
wonderful district of New Zealand. For about fifteen
A Voyage on the South Pacific. 131
miles the road runs through a plain covered with ti-tree
scrub, ferns, and cabbage trees, and dotted over with
hillocks and mounds. The level country is then left
behind, and the track, having passed through a solitary
station and a grove of red pine and totara, is carried
along the side of a ravine, where the song of the linnet
is sometimes heard, into the bush, through which it
wriggles for many a long mile. On either hand the tall
trunks of forest trees, unknown in Europe, overhang the
rough way, rare ferns are seen growing on the slopes
and shallow cuttings, and the solitude is unbroken by
any living creature.
Strange forms of life and death occur — such as the
vine which clasps the red pine and kills it with its
embrace, and becomes a tree itself, while still holding
the dead trunk in its embrace ; or the caterpillar, which
feeds on a fungus until it is gorged and dies, when a
plant sprouts from it, and a twig is seen growing from
its mouth. At last there is a break in the trees, and
Lake Rotorua and the Island of Mokoia appear in the
distance, and on the further shore a column of steam
rising out of a hot spring. The water of the lake has
the colour of diluted milk, owing to the quantity of white
dust which fell into it a year ago, at the time of the
eruption of Tarawcra ; and the volcano, with a little
steam issuing from it, is visible to the south-cast in the
midst of hills covered with grey mud. The road turns
toward the south, and after a few miles of scrub, the
pillars of vapour ascending from the geysers of Ohine-
mutu and Whakarewarewa came into view across the
plain along the shore, and we entered the enchanted
town of Rotorua, where many columns of steam float
upwards from gardens and waste places ; where the rills
by the roadside are smoking ; where caldrons of mud are
seething by the lake shore, and all kinds of chemical
T 2
132 The Modern Odyssey.
fumes are exhaled from crevices in the paths and holes
in the banks.
Ohinemutu is a Maori village, built upon a neck of
land jutting out into the lake. Some years ago the land
sunk several feet, and now many of the trees are standing
in the water. The township of Rotorua is the European
settlement surrounding the native village. It is a pretty
place in the midst of fine scenery, somewhat spoilt by
the prim thermal sanatory establishment which the
Colonial Government has set down in the plain between
the hills and the lake. Whakarewarewa is another native
village a short distance inland. It stands on the banks
of a little river in the midst of geysers and hot springs.
Boiling waters burst out of the earth and coat the stones
with mineral deposits ; fragments, stratified in layers of
red and white, of sedimentary rocks that have been
ejected from the bowels of the earth, lie in beds of moss ;
in the densest part of the ti-tree scrub are open basins,
with miniature volcanoes and craters throwing up hot
liquid mud ; from the mouths of caverns, hidden by
flowers and ferns, issues the smoke generated in that
internal furnace concealed somewhere beneath green
growths which the subterranean heat makes so luxuriant ;
the exposed sands of the river are heated and fuming,
while the shallow water near the shore effervesces with
gas bubbles, and white stems of vapour rise slowly
through the calm air to the blue sky above. The
commonplace closely attends the sublime in every
quarter of the globe ; and here, in the very heart of
the most wonderful region of New Zealand, families
of Maoris are publicly soaking themselves in the mud
caldrons while their food is being boiled in an adjoining
liot spring.
Since the destruction of the pink and white terraces
by the eruption of the long dormant Tarawera in June,
A Voyage on the South Pacific. 133
1886, Rotorua has lost its chief attraction. Whether the
terraces are still existent is doubtful, but, at all events,
they are covered by thirty feet or more of mud. It is
uncertain in what form this mud fell. It is probable that
the volcano ejected enormous quantities of dust, and that
the vapour generated when the earthquake cleft the bed
of Lake Rotomahana and dropped its waters into the
abysmal furnace, precipitated the dust in the form of
mud on to the mountains and valleys.
The whole district is covered with a grey blanket, out
of which no green thing has yet emerged. Some portions
of the hillsides have been already scored by the rains
into channels and ravines. At Oahu, in the Sandwich
Islands, the same formation may be seen, but there a
much longer period has elapsed since the ordinary forces
of nature began to work upon volcanic ruin.
August 22nd. — Another day of early rising, for it was
necessary to start at seven in order to reach Wairakei,
threescore miles distant by a rough and lonely road,
before sunset. The first part of the journey is through a
broken, desolate country, covered with ti-tree, ferns, and
an occasional patch of iris. Square rocks are perched
like castles on the hills ; cliffs and palisades shut out
the view, and in one place a row of dolomites stands
near the track. The bones of horses and sheep lie by
the roadside, but of human life there is hardly any
sign.
After many long miles, the scene suddenly changes
into an alluvial plain enclosed by hills, on which are
marked the terraces of prehistoric lakes and rivers.
No more delightful spot for a halt on a long journey
than Atcamure could be desired. It lies about midway
between Ohinemutu and Wairakei, where the road crosses
a gorge of the Waikato on a wooden bridge. An open
space in the ti-tree scrub opposite a bluff on the further
134 The Modern Odyssey.
shore was chosen as our luncheon hall. The river rushed
by at our feet, and the lark sang overhead. It was a wild
scene. Rocks that had been brought down in the course
of ages from the distant mountains were strewn thickly
upon the banks ; a hundred yards lower down a water-
fall was roaring; and Pohaturoa, a steep, pyramidal hill,
formerly the fortress of a Maori tribe, only accessible by
a narrow path on one side, loomed over all.
Never did one hour pass so pleasantly and so quickly;
and once more we were on the road, climbing into the
table-land in the heart of the North Island. Mountains
rose in the distance on all sides, and Tongariro and
Ruapehu, the former an occasionally active, the latter an
extinct volcano, were faintly visible in the south. When
we had jolted over fifty miles of road from Ohinemutu
we left the highway, and followed a still rougher bush
track which leads to Wairakci, where, within an area of
a few acres, all the varieties of volcanic hydraulics and
pneumatics are contained. A swim in a natural hot
sulphur bath on the Kiriohinekai creek repaid all the
fatigue of the road, and soon we were smoking before a
wood fire in a Maori wkarc, a little cottage built of
bulrushes and thatched with grass, surrounded by beds
of violets, and within reach of the murmur of the hot
springs.
August 2yd. — Lake Taupo, the next stage in the
overland journey, being only seven miles distant from
Wairakei, it was possible to take things easily this
morning ; and, after breakfast at a reasonable hour, we
strolled quietly up to the glen of geysers, which is, in
fact, an exhibition of natural machinery in motion and
of natural products in course of manufacture. In huge
goblets on a ledge of the hillside a liquid resembling
paint is boiling ; in one of the bowls it is blue, in another
pink, perfectly uniform in colour and consistency ; close
A Voyage on the South Pacific. 135
by Tuhuatahi, a geyser of the clearest and purest water
sends up a pillar of snow-white steam to the sky. The
basin is lined with a coral-like, silicious deposit. Within
a short distance, and half hidden by a natural ledge of
rock, is Terekereke, the black spring which is as capri-
cious as a woman, and which, at irregular intervals,
throws up a jet of boiling water. Nga Mahanga, or the
Twins, is a basin divided into two portions by a mass in
the shape of a sponge, which, every few minutes, shoots
up a body of water to the height of ten feet or more.
Another fountain, termed the " Donkey Engine," dis-
charges its stream with a reverberating thud, due prob-
ably to the sudden choking of the water in an internal
chamber behind the orifice.
The geysers when not in action give little sign of
the imprisoned force within. There is a hole in the
rock, with perhaps a little vapour issuing from it ; in
a moment, without warning, a volume of steam and
boiling water rushes out and deluges the incrustatcd
stones around ; a few seconds more, the paroxysm is
over, and the irascible nymph of the fountain is
appeased. From beneath a pool comes a metallic
sound, like the blow of a steam-hammer. The effect
is wonderful and weird ; the sounds rise mysteriously
out of the water, but the machine is hidden and never
can be revealed. The noise is supposed to be caused by
the rush of water into a vacuum, formed b\- the con-
densation of the steam.
A warm river, fed by the hot springs and gc}-scrs,
runs through the ravine, which is a natural hot-house.
The Osmunda and man\' other beautiful ferns grow on
the banks, where the steam affords them sufficient heat
and moisture even now, when the snow is Ix'ing on the
mountains. Upon the sheer sides of the gorge are patches
of brilliant veirctable and mineral colours. The soft and
13^ The Modern Odyssey.
treacherous ground feels warm to the feet, and it is
necessary to handle the bright red earth — whose colour,
however, is natural, and not due to heat — with caution,
or the fingers which touch it will be burnt. It is strange
to find a furnace in the midst of ferns and mosses, and to
have the hand which plucks a frond scorched by the soil
in which it grows.
From Wairakei to Lake Taupo is a pleasant after-
noon's walk. Midway are the Huka Falls, the most
lovely spot in New Zealand, where the Waikato rushes
through a narrow gorge about a hundred yards in length
and fifty feet in breadth. The river issues from a calm
pool into a channel between perpendicular walls. At the
lower end is a waterfall. The river is a bright sapphire
blue, but at the cataract and the rapids there is a slight
but very lovely tinge of pink in the foam. The edge of
the gorge is covered with shrubs, and the crevices in the
walls arc filled with lichens and moss. It is an enchant-
ing spot that will be remembered when Niagara is
forgotten. It is as it was long before a European set
foot in the island. Nothing has been done to mar its
beauty, and hardly a trace of man can be discerned.
Not one of the ferns of the lower pool has been stolen ;
no wooden shanty stands upon the river terraces ; no
one has touched the stems of the trees growing upon
the sloping banks of the widened river below the
gorge.
We climbed a hill, and, as the sun was setting,
entered the village of Tapuhaharuru, the Place of the
Silent h\)otstcps, on the shore of Lake Taupo, where
the Waikato leaves it.
Aiii^ust 24///. — Long before sensible people were
.-stirring, the driver of the coach was calling upon his
horses to face the long hill which gives access to the
table-land cast of Lake Taupo. A keen and strong
A Voyage on the South Pacific. 137
wind was blowing, and Tongariro and Ruapehu were
clad in snow and almost hidden in cloud. The country is
barren and desolate, and unlike anything in Europe or
America, but it is by no means ugly. It is covered with
ti-tree and strewn with pumice-stone, and so remote
that the nearest railway is a hundred miles away. Not
a settlement was passed, except a little inn where we
made a halt for luncheon at mid-day. The lake remained
in sight until the watershed was reached. Though the
sun was shining brightly in the morning, the snow began
to fall in the afternoon, and it was lying in the pass by
which the zigzag road crosses the Pakiranui Mountains.
The scenery would have been fine if the atmosphere had
been clear enough to render it visible.
The pleasantest part of a journey on rough tracks is
the end of it ; and when the roadside inn at Tarawera
came in sight, shortly before sunset, the feeling of de-
pression caused by a winter's journey in a snowstorm
across a range of New Zealand mountains suddenly
vanished away. The cosmopolitan character of a British
colony's population was shown in the person of the land-
lord, for who would expect to find him an intelligent
Dane who had served in the Maori war, and who was
well informed on current l'2uropean politics '!
August 25///. — Hirec jaded travellers bound for
Napier were the precursors of tlic sun this morning,
for he had not risen above the peaks when they were
toiling up "the difficult heights of the iced mountain
air." Two ranges lie in the wa\- between Tarawera and
Napier, and a snowstorm had made the road almost im-
passable. Between them the Mohaka river was saunter-
ing through the land, and it was necessar\- to humour it
and to descend man)- hundred feet before we could scale
the Maungahururu range. Near the summit of tlie first
range is a Maori village, and in it a house that is tc^pn,
J 3^ The Modern Odyssey.
namely, one that cannot be entered because a Maori had
died in it.
It took more than five hours to travel twenty miles,
and for the greater part of the distance we trudged
through the snow to spare the horses. A joyful sight
met our eyes at last — the familiar blue waters of the
South Pacific and the City of Napier and Cape Kid-
nappers shining in the sun. Yet the battle was not yet
over, for between us and our destination lay twenty-eight
miles of bad road, over which the springless coach jolted
and tossed and heaved like a pea on a drum. The ordeal
was broken for an hour when we halted at Pohui for
luncheon. The road fords the river Esk no less than
fifty-tliree times, and often the bed of the stream is used
as the track ; and it thus became evident that the bed of
a New Zealand river is often smoother and better than a
New Zealand highway. In one place the spot is pointed
out where a driver was lately killed ; and in another,
where the road and the river run side by side, a coach
was carried away by a freshet, and the carcases of the
horses are passed in succession lower down. At Petani,
a few miles from Napier, the road is in better order, and
a district of pastures, fields, and houses — the first appear-
ance of fertility in the whole distance of two hundred
miles from Oxford — is entered. The journey was almost
over. We went along an evil-smelling tongue of land
which separates the lagoon from the sea ; crossed a
wooden bridge and entered Napier, where a delightful
haven of rest was found in the Ilawke's Bay Club.
As a toothache is almost worth enduring for the
sake of the exquisite feeling of pleasure and relief which
comes when the pain departs, so the jolting of the
journey enhanced the delight of a quiet evening with
the knowledge that on the morrow there need be no
rising with the lark, or with whatever fowl takes the
A Voyage on the South Pac/fic. 139
place of that restless bird in New Zealand. These words
are written at the window of a room overlooking the
shore of the Pacific. The moon is shining, and the stars
of strange constellations are bright ; the long, low waves
of the Southern Ocean are breaking on the beach below,
and how pleasant is their music !
August 26/k. — The evil effects of the pernicious habit
of early rising remain long after the practice has been
discontinued, and cannot easily be thrown off. The
traveller who, during many weeks, has been roused soon
after sunrise (at sea) by the crew washing the decks, and
(on land) by the voice of a hotel waiter or club steward
reminding him while it is yet dark that the coach or
train starts in half an hour, finds difficulty in sleeping
comfortably as he should do when he is happily restored
to a normal condition. Thus it happened to-day that
though the programme included only the sights of a
small and very quiet city in New Zealand, which could
be seen by any lazy individual in an hour, and still leave
time for rumination, yet we were all as wakeful as the
early worm.
Napier is a clean, neat, well-built town of wooden
houses, on a bluff at the mouth of an inlet of Hawke's
Bay, the extremities of which are marked by the faint
blue outlines of Cape Kidnappers and the Mahia Penin-
sula, while on the landward side the arc is coni})leted
by the snowy peaks of the mountains. It is not a stirring
or noisy place, and it resembles a quiet sca-sidc town
in England. The roads are good and the pavement
excellent — features which a traveller latcl}' arri\ cd from
the United States notices at once. If Napier does not
show much evidence of wealth, there is none of poverty,
and it is a suitable retreat for a commonplace English-
man of stead}' habits and sim]:ile tastes. The beach is
good, and not disfigured as yet by bathing machines.
140 The Modern Odyssey.
August 2'/th. — Although the distance between Napier
and Wellington, the capital of New Zealand, is less than
two hundred miles, and although, with the exception of a
gap of sixteen miles, a railway runs throughout, yet the
journey occupies more than fifteen hours, and involves
an early start. However, we were rewarded by a sight
we should never have risen to see for its own sake — the
sun emerging from the Pacific, and remaining for a little
w^hile underneath a bank of golden clouds which were
suspended above the horizon ; a scene beautiful beyond
the power of words to describe. If only the pheno-
mena of sunrise could occur at a less inconvenient
hour of the day, they would be more appreciated of
the people.
For some distance out of Napier the line passes
through a bright and attractive agricultural and pastoral
district, where the fields are bordered by gorse hedges,
and cattle are grazing and lambs are at play ; and, after
a few hours, enters the bush, where the scenery must
have been fine before the incendiary settler began his
work of civilisation by setting fire to the forest trees.
Woodville, the present terminus of the railway, is an
interesting example of a colonial town slowly expanding
in a forest clearing. It has not yet gone beyond the
stage of having charred stumps as its only suburbs.
Between Woodville and Palmerston the line is not yet
finished, and this part of the journey is performed by
coach. The road, which is as good as many English
highways, winds for several miles along the gorge of the
beautiful Manawatu River, and then emerges on to a
cultivated plain. Palmerston is a spacious and well laid-
out town. The streets are broad and clean ; a handsome
square occui)ics the centre ; the railway station is a neat
structure ; and although the absence of stone and brick
buildings gives it the look of a city of dolls' houses, its
A Voyage on the South Pacific. 141
appearance and air of orderly comfort arc creditable to
the inhabitants.
August 2gth. — The most remarkable feature of
Wellington is its great name. The city is built upon the
side of a hill rising from a land-locked sound in Cook's
Straits, and appears to be cramped by its situation. All
that the guide-books can say of it is that it contains the
largest wooden building in the world — the Government
Offices. It is traversed by a tramway, on which cars run
at long intervals, and, except upon the wharves, little is
stirring. There is no turmoil of commerce in the streets,
but only a slight fidget of business.
We left in the JManapouri for the South Island at
4 p.m. As the North Island dwindles in the wake of the
ship, its weird sights pass away, and become a vivid
recollection. The volcanic district, with its horizon of
craters, its overwhelmed lakes, and new springs gushing
out where before only the dew moistened the earth, its
geysers and fumaroles and troughs of boiling water as
clear as crystal, must always remain firmly planted in
the memory, as well as the lonely bush and heaving
hills covered with pumice-stone and scrub with which it
is encompassed. The Maori is there, a remnant of the
l)ast. He still builds his ivliarc, and weaves his kit of
ilax ; but the juoa, the strange bird without wings which
no white man has ever seen, is gone, and the INIaori has
dressed himself up in European clothes. The iiioa did
not die too soon.
August 30///. — For five hours after da}-light this
morning the Maiuipouri was groping in a dense fog
along Tegasus Bay and Bank's Peninsula. Now and
then a breath of wind withdrew the veil for a moment,
and disclosed an inlet on a rocky shore ; and it was
not until mid-day that the fog lifted and revealed tiie
entrance to Lyttelton Harbour. Meanwhile, the sound
142 The Modern Odyssey.
of the waves at the foot of the cHfifs was very distinct,
and in many places the land could not have been more
than two hundred yards distant from the Manapouri as
she drifted along the coast, with her engines occasionally
moving a few revolutions ahead in order to give steerage
way. Lyttelton is a sheltered harbour in the hilly penin-
sula which juts out into the Pacific from the Canterbury
Plain, and a railway tunnel that would be thought long
even in America, connects it with Christchurch, seven
miles inland. Another day and night spent upon a ship
-^though little fault could be found with her — enhanced
the comfort of the Christchurch Club.
September 1st. — The winter is not yet over, but the
weather to-day is that of an English ist of September.
The sun is warm, the air just cool enough to be pleasant,
and a slight haze completes the resemblance to an autumn
day at home.
The Canterbury Plain, with its green, fertile fields and
quiet beauty, stretches for many miles along the east
coast of the South Island. The Port Hills overlook it
as it lies unrolled at their feet, a belt of pastures and
cornlands. As far as the eye can reach towards the
south and towards the central mountains it is cultivated.
Groves of green trees are dotted here and there, and
gorse hedges, bright with yellow blossoms, divide the
fields ; columns of smoke rise slowly upwards or drift
to leeward, where the grass or the furze is burning ;
willows mark the course of the sluggish streams which
flow towards the marshes on the shore ; the blue
Pacific, which seldom falsifies the reputation of its name,
bounds the plain upon one side, and the dim mountains,
sprinkled with the snow that makes them hardly dis-
tinguishable from the clouds resting upon them, shelters
it on the west and north ; and the skylark hovers over
every field.
A Voyage on the South Pacific. 143
The Cathedral spire rises out of the plain, and lends
a still more English appearance to the landscape, while
Christchurch itself is not unlike an English cathedral
city. It is quiet and orderly, and somewhat dull. It has
emerged from the chrysalis stage of wooden buildings,
and many of the houses and stores are handsome ; and
in the suburbs stands the largest and handsomest edifice
in New Zealand — the Lunatic Asylum of the Provincial
District of Canterbury. The river Avon, fringed with
willows brought by French emigrants from Napoleon's
grave at St. Helena, flows through the town in a stream
as clear as a mountain torrent.
Although all the trees are exotic, there is no lack
of them in Christchurch and its suburbs. Oaks, elms,
poplars, and willows, all planted during the last forty
years, give ample shade, and have transformed what was
a treeless marsh into a wooded plain. Broad roads in-
tersect the city, and the only fault that can be found with
them is their mathematical straightness. A park and a
woodland ramble lie just outside the boundaries, and
a cricket ground close by is one of the best in the world.
The traveller who stands under the trees in Hagley Park
and looks back at the city in the distance finds it difficult
to realise that he is twelve thousand miles away from
England. All the associations are English. The stone
buildings of the Public School upon the banks of the
river already look old, and all the customary features are
there — chapel, big school, masters' houses, fives courts,
swimming bath, and notice board. A cathedral spire
soars above the trees, as at Salisbury, and another Avon
glides under its shadow.
None of the rough-and-ready husbandry of a new
country is seen near Christchurch ; the hedges are as
trim and the pastures almost as neat as those in the
Weald of Kent. There are country houses surrounded
144 The Modern Odyssey.
by well-kept gardens and lawns, cottages covered with
creepers, and the orchards and paddocks of an English
Home County. A gate by the roadside is opened, and
two pretty girls on horseback come out for their after-
noon ride ; and on the other side of the hedge are heard
the familiar words of "deuce" and "vantage," and the thud
of the tennis ball against the racket. At the club will be
found a society of men who only differ from English
country gentlemen in being more intelligent and better
informed.
An hour may be profitably spent in the Museum,
which contains a unique collection of inoa skeletons.
That extraordinary bird has never been seen alive by
any European, but its bones are still occasionally found
in the bush. The skeletons are remarkable for the great
size and strength of the bones of the leg, and for the
absence even of rudimentary wings which appear in a
still existing New Zealand bird of the same genus — the
kiiui. The moa occasionally attained such a stature that
when it was stalking in the ti-trce scrub its eyes must
have been raised thirteen feet above the ground. It is
not known at what period the surviving lonely and
melancholy fowl surveyed the world in solitude after all
his companions had passed away, but it was probably in
the early years of the i8th century.
September 2nd. — A halt by the way to enjoy a little
pastoral interlude. Coldstream, a sheep farm belonging
to S., being within a few miles of a station on the
railway to Dunedin, and the road to it being warranted
by authority to be in good order, we gladly consented to
visit it. The morning express for the south steamed
along the Canterbury Plain at the rate of eighteen knots
an hour, and was stopped by signal at Hinds to dis-
charge the travellers bound for Coldstream. The country
is a dead lc\el intersected by torrential streams, whose
A Voyage on the South Pacii-ic. 145
shallow beds, in some cases nearly a mile in width, are
filled only when the mountain snows are melting. The
late bitter experience of the roads of the North Island
made the drive of ninety minutes on a level track from
the station to Coldstream a really delightful episode.
The homestead takes its name from a little rivulet
which intersects it. It is a solitary but not a lonely spot.
Thirty miles away to the west are the mountains ; but
so pure and clear is the air that they seemed to be
within an hour's walk, and the smoke of the grass and
gorse fires could plainly be discerned ascending the cliffs
and filling the ravines. All around are fields divided off
by furze hedges in bloom ; or open pastures of tussocks
in the possession of fat sheep moving lazily about, and
hardly disturbing the hares which abound. On one side
the run is bounded by the river Rangitata ; on another
by the Pacific, whose surf beats constantly upon the
bank of shingle (which is a section of the Ninety Miles
Beach running southward from Bank's Peninsula) outside
a narrow lagoon lying under a range of low cliffs. \ few-
groves of gum-trees stand like islands in the midst of the
plain, and the white and purple hills overlook it from
the west. The collies playing around the farm buildings,
the sparrows chirping in the wattle trees, the gulls hover-
ing over the fields, were there to remind us of home.
We wandered about all the afternoon, shot a few
hares, and came back to smoke in the verandah towards
the setting sun, to think of far-awa}- things and people,
and to talk over old Cambridge da}-s. Then darkness
fell upon the plain ; the mountains were hidden in the
gloom ; the Southern Cross appeared ; and all was still,
except the murmur of the Pacific waves on the shore,
which was the bourn of their long journey from the
Antarctic Ocean. So ended a ver\', ver}' pleasant da\-.
Septcvibcr V'd. — One hundred and sixt>--s!.\- miles hy
146 The Modern Odyssey.
train in eight hours, through Timaru, Oamaru, Totara,
Pukcteraki, Omimi, Waikonaiti, Kurtigi, and a host of
other places with musical Maori names ; across a range
of mountains, and along a fiord, where at last the
welcome lights of Dunedin were seen reflected in the
water.
September ^th. — The shrewd intelligence of the
Scotch is nowhere more plainly shown than in their
practice of leaving their native hills as soon as they
have the opportunity. About forty years ago a party
of Caledonians landed in New Zealand, and, with the
same perseverance which they would have displayed
in endeavouring to understand a joke, set to work to
build a New Edinburgh which they called Dunedin, on
the coast of Otago. It is a clean, dull place, with no
more pretensions to beauty than a Banffshire village.
Scotch names predominate ; the Scotch accent is heard
in the streets ; the inevitable statue of Burns stands in
the chief square ; but the bagpipes are happily absent.
A stream, called the Water of Lcith, runs through the
city, and a Scotch mist frequently obliterates the view.
The suburbs and adjoining villages of Roslyn, Portobello,
Burnside, Abbotsford, Stirling, and Kelso also testify to
the nationality of the first settlers, who, like all exiles,
named their new homes after the places that were dear
to them in the fatherland — a touching custom, which is
at least as old as the time of the Trojan War, and which
serves to mitigate the pain of banishment by the means
of mere verbal association.
In Dunedin, no less than in other New Zealand
towns, the charred beams of half-burnt wooden houses
and the bare walls of gutted shops constantly meet the
eye. The frequent occurrence of destructive fires is
ascribed by some people to the inflammable nature of
the kauri pine, which is almost universally used in
A Voyage on the South Pacific. 147
building, and by others to the depression of trade. In
hard times a fire is the easiest way of realising un-
productive capital. The evil has become so serious
that the insurance offices now insist on rebuilding burnt
premises instead of paying the sum for which the latter
were insured.
September ^tJi. — The morning train left Dunedin
punctually, and after sauntering easily across country,
reached Invcrcargill at 5 p.m. From the etymology of the
word and from the analogy of Scotch names it might be
supposed that Invcrcargill was a town at the mouth of
the River Cargill, just as Inverness is a town at the
mouth of the Ness. There is, however, no river Cargill ;
but there was a pioneer sea-captain of that name, to
whom the early settlers did honour by calling the place
after him, and coining the blundering word Invcrcargill.
Still, the place seems fairly prosperous ; the roads are
wide ; some of the streets are handsome ; and an im-
portant municipal official, the lamplighter, goes his
rounds on horseback. His appearance as he caracoles
up to a lamp-post with a flaming spear in his hand is
weird and unearthly.
Septejuber gt/i. — The trains of the New Zealand
Government Railway take little more than an hour to
perform the journey of eighteen miles between Invcr-
cargill and the Bluff, as the line passes through a level
country. The Bluff is a comfortable haven at the
extreme south of the South Island. The harbour is
large, and the number of houses small ; and apparently
tleprcssion of trade must have been much felt here, as
last year the town was burnt down. The Taraivcra was
advertised to sail soon after noon for Tasmania and
Melbourne, but it was nearly 5 p.m. before we started.
September lot/i. — At sea : Lat. 45^ 56' S., Long.
163° 3' E. The cold south wind (how oddly this
K 2
148 The Modern Odyssey.
Sounds ! ) has been blowing all day, and there is a choppy
sea. Sea birds follow the ship, and we are never without
a winged escort. It is hard to understand how they can
keep pace with the Tarmuera, for their wings appear to
be almost stationary ; yet they fly against the wind,
swoop to the right or left, dart down to the wave crest,
skim along the surface, and rise again to the masthead
without a perceptible quiver of their pinions. The wings
of the albatross especially seem to be fixed as in a frame
for many minutes at a time, yet he never lags behind.
September 12th. — Lat. 43° 53' S., Long. 153° 28' E.
At noon yesterday we were about midway between New
Zealand and Tasmania. The bitter wind from the south
is still blowing, and the Tarawera is lively. The only
warm place in the ship is the starboard side of the funnel
casing. The clear blue of the tropical Pacific has become
a sombre greenish grey — not very translucent. With the
aid of two squaresails, a jib, and mainsail, the run of the
last twenty-four hours rose to 277 knots.
September i^th. — The Tarauera arrived at the wharf
at Hobart before sunrise, having come up the river during
the night. The town is finely situated, and is almost
surrounded by hills, now sprinkled with snow; but in-
ternally it is not very attractive, though the streets are
wide and clean. There was therefore no inducement to
postpone the departure for Launccston beyond the 8 a.m.
train, which appears, after experience of the New Zealand
railways, to run at a headlong speed, for it is timed to
cover a distance of one hundred and thirty miles in less
than six hours.
At the station a great insult was offered to a dcck-
cliair. The officials refused to regard it as personal
''-'ft^'<igc, and declared that it must be booked as a parcel.
The faithful chair, which has twice crossed the Atlantic,
and has travelled many hundred miles on English
A Voyage on the South Pacific. 149
railways and American rivers, and many thousand knots
on the Pacific Ocean ; which has crossed the Line and
sweltered under tropical suns, and shivered to the cold
winds that blow up from the South Pole ; which has felt
the spray of many seas, and has lost its arms, and grown
decrepit in the service of its owner ; and out of which he
has gazed at strange sunsets in the west, at sea-sick
passengers by the score, and, above all, at the beautiful
features of Mrs. L., and other remarkable objects — was
degraded from its dignity as a constant friend into a
mere chattel of wood by the insolent caprice of an official
of the one-horse colony of Tasmania, It was too bad !
The Tasmanian main line joins Hobart and Launces-
ton, the only two considerable towns of the island. For
some miles it skirts the western shore of the Derwent,
a tranquil and shining river, with lawns, orchards, hop
gardens, and pastures on its banks. Many villages are
passed, in which a large proportion of the houses are
built of brick or stone. From the Derwent the line
ascends in a sinuous track to the mountains in the
centre, where, in a icw places only, clearings have been
made in the forests of gum-trees. The landscape is gay
with the golden blossoms of the mimosa and furze, and
though it lacks the grandeur of New Zealand scenery,
it is pleasant to look on. As the line descends to the
northern coast a more carefully cultivated district is
traversed, where the land is divided into fields and dotted
over with homesteads, and bears a close resemblance to
some parts of the North of England.
The river North Esk, after flowing gently tlirough a
champaign countr)', joins the South Esk as the latter
issues from a rocky gorge, and the town of Launccston
is built at the angle where their combined waters form
the ri\-er Tamar— a curious geographical jumble.
September 14///. — This Tasmanian Launccston is a
I50 The Modern Odyssey.
quiet and picturesque town. The view of it from the
road on the further side of the river is particularly fine.
The Tamar winds away to the north through its pastures
and marshes ; the white sails of ships are seen in the
midst of the trees, as with the help of a slight breeze
they stem the current ; and the rich notes of the hand-
some Tasmanian magpie are heard among the gums.
The sunny hillside facing the north-east (which cor-
responds in its advantages to a south-west aspect in the
northern hemisphere) is covered with wooden villas
built in fairly good taste, and at the foot is a green belt
of marsh along the riv^er, where the voice of the little
frog is never silent. The town, a few hundred yards
aw^ay on the opposite bank, is reflected in the water, and
close by is a wild ravine, not five minutes' walk from the
busiest streets. The river and the town, the fields and
the hills beyond, now covered with fruit-trees in blossom,
the steep bank and the eminence on which a suburb — if
that can be called a suburb which stands higher than its
city — is built, the sunshine and the passing clouds, made
up a picture of great beauty in the afternoon light.
There was hardly a single feature which might not
have been seen in England, but the landscape was a
patchwork of details taken from widely separated parts.
It was as though a few acres of the Thanet marshes had
been joined to a portion of the Weald of Kent, and
placed in the foreground, with Colchester in the middle
distance and a range of Yorkshire hills in the back-
ground.
Launceston itself, however, bears the slightest possible
resemblance to an English country town, as all the streets
arc laid out with mathematical regularity, and there is
hardly a curve or a bend to be seen : from which the
antiquary of the remote future will rightly reason that
the town was in existence before the district was inter-
A Voyage on the South Pacific. 151
sected by roads or paths, along whose sides in an olden
country the streets would naturally extend themselves.
September i6th. — We left Launceston yesterday after-
noon in the Indignant tender, and at Rosevears, twelve
miles down the river, embarked on board the Flinders,
which had been obliged to leave with the forenoon tide.
The banks of the Tamar are pretty : alluvial meadows,
low bluffs, and occasional settlements are seen on either
side. We reached the river's mouth at dusk, and found
a rather heavy sea outside, but the Flinders is a steady
ship, and does not feel it much. This morning — Australia
in sight ! A low range of sand-hills, indistinct in the
haze ; somewhat disappointing, but probably too much
is expected in the first view of a new continent. Still
a bright green and smiling shore, with clear water and
coral reefs, with tall forest trees in the background, and
perhaps an emu or a kangaroo or a native visible near
the strand, would have been more satisfactory to the
eyes of a traveller as he approaches Australia. We
entered the Heads at 1 1 a.m., and soon the sunny town
of Queenscliffe was receding astern, and we were plough-
ing the tranquil waters of Port Phillip.
These lines are written as the Flinders is nearing
Williamstown. The Oroya is at anchor on our starboard
bow. waiting for the mails ; the P. and O. Shannon is
seen lying at the wharf as we pass by ; and the monitor
Cerberus is stationed with her attendant gun-boats at the
mouth of the river. A rain-cloud makes St. Kilda and
Brighton a blurred image on the shore ; Melbourne
appears ahead, with its chimneys and smoke ; we steer
through the dredging machines and mud-banks of the
Yarra, and the Voyage on the South Pacific is over.
CHAPTER XI.
ON THE SHORE OF THE SOUTHERN OCEAN.
It falls to the lot of some countries to be formally intro-
duced to the world, while others are left to shift for them-
selves and to emerge as best they can from the gloom of
the unknown. To Columbus belongs the honour of
having presented America, when she was the debutante
of the nations, at the delighted Spanish Court ; but there
was no Columbus for Australia. The existence of a
continent in the south had been so long commonly sus-
pected, that it was the habit of the map-makers of the
later mediaeval period to fill up a blank in the ocean
with a speculative Terra Australis hicognita, and even
so far back as the thirteenth century Marco Polo was
told by the Chinese mandarins that there was a vast
island lying in the region beyond the sun. It seems
probable, therefore, that Australia was first pointed out
to Europe by China.
The uncertain tradition that somewhere in the south
another mainland rose out of the sea has served to
deprive the actual discoverer of Australia of the fame
due to him. No one has claimed that
"He was the first that ever burst
Into that silent sea ; "
for it is impossible to fix the latest date at which it could
be affirmed with certainty that the existence of Australia
was unknown to Europe.
On the Shore of the Southern Oceax. 153
A Spanish captain set sail from Peru, and after
threading the lovely islands of the Pacific, passed through
the Coral Sea, and gave his name to Torres Straits.
Tasman and Hartog — each belonging to a nation that
has been fated to act as pilot-fish for Great Britain, to
indicate the prey but not to partake in it — explored
some portions of the coast, and the buccaneer Dampier
was the first Englishman who visited it. None of these,
however, can be styled the Columbus of Australia, nor
did they entirely resolve the Australasian mystery,
though they brought the country within the limits of
the known and accessible world. It was still considered
to be an outlying portion of Java or New Guinea ;
and the work of exploration has been completed so
recently that there are living persons who were born
before Bass's Straits, which separate Tasmania from the
mainland, were discovered.
Blumenbach — a German professor whose reputation
was chiefly gained in the eighteenth century, but who
died only half a century ago — had such difficulty in
accounting for the presence of Australia on the globe,
that he supposed that the continent was originally a
comet, which, happening to fall within the radius of the
attraction of the earth, was drawn irresistibly to it, and
finally became a kind of cosmic plaster adhering to its
surface.
Happy is the land that has no history, and almost as
happy is the land that has no history before the
eighteenth century. Australia was not destined to
become the prey of Spanish or Portuguese rovers and
adventurers— a fate which would, in all probabiHty, have
resulted in her ultimately falling into the clutches of
corrupt and disreputable republics of the South .Ameri-
can type ; and although her existence was apparently
known in China fully six hundred years ago, no
154 The Modern Odyssey.
attempt was made to utilise her as a place of settlement
for the surplus population of the Celestial Empire — which
already occupied half of Asia — until the present day, and
the immediate and rude frustration of the scheme was
the earliest sign of the power of the new Australian
nation. If the Chinese had taken possession of Aus-
tralia in the Middle Ages — and that such an event was
not beyond the bounds of possibility, the fact that there
are other places in the Pacific as widely separated, and
yet inhabited by the same race, is a proof — they could
have defied the world, and would probably have over-
run it.
Australia was neglected, and it was not until the
exploration of America had been completed by the
navigators and colonists of the sixteenth and succeeding
centuries that attention was given to the great legendary
continent in the Southern Ocean. Its acquisition by
Great Britain was an indirect result of the successful
rebellion of the American colonies. Virginia was no
longer available as a prison for transported convicts ;
and a favourable report from Cook induced the British
Government to try the experiment of sending them to
Australia, a practice which was continued until she
rightly and successfully protested against the inoculation
with crime to which she was subjected, but which cer-
tainly appears to have rendered her proof against the
infection. Few countries have a smaller proportion of
criminals to population than Australia has at the present
time.
Whether Melbourne is the capital of Victoria, or
Victoria the capital of Melbourne ; whether Adelaide is
a city or a colony ; and in what part of Australia
Sydney is situated, are questions which the large
majority of educated English people could not answer
On the Shore oe the Southern Ocean. 155
correctly. This confusion of the cities and the colonies
is due in some measure to careless ignorance, which the
absence of rational nomenclature makes less easy to
overcome. There is no reason, on the face of it, why
Adelaide should be a city while Victoria is a colony.
The latter word docs not convey to the mind the idea of
a State, as the terms New South Wales or Queensland
do convey it ; and in two other British colonies, one on
each side of the Pacific, Victoria is the name of a city.
Even those names of colonies which are indicative of
territory are often misleading — as, for example, South
Australia. Not only does this colony not include the
most southern portion of the continent (for each of the
adjacent colonies, Victoria and Western Australia, ex-
tends further towards the south), but it does include a
central belt, and more than a thousand miles of the
tropical coast on the north. There is, therefore, some
excuse for those ignorant persons who direct letters to
New South Wales, Adelaide ; or to Melbourne near
Queensland.
The fact of living in a thickly populated country
of limited area tends to cramp the imagination.
English people, rashly generalising from a knowledge,
often very imperfect, of European geography, cannot
readily conceive the notion of a country vcr\' much
larger than France, for example ; and when they
hear that the total population of sonic State in a
distant quarter of the world is two, three, or four
millions, they are apt to imagine that this population
is included in a district not more extensive than one
of the smaller European States. The popular concep-
tion of Australia is that it is an enormous island, one
corner of which is occupied b}' British subjects, who have
built several large cities within a short distance of one
another, and the various colonies are regarded as so many
156 The Modern Odyssey.
English counties. These errors are fostered by the
maps. Australia in an atlas is in appearance not much
greater than the British Isles, and the south-east portion
of it seems to be as thickly studded with populous
places.
A little more than fifty years ago, an explorer sailed
a few miles up the stream of a languid and muddy river,
which meandered between low hills and filtered through
swamps ere it entered the sea on the northern littoral of
Port Phillip. His progress was stopped by a waterfall,
and at that time the valley was filled with flowering
trees, flights of cockatoos hovered around, and here and
there a kangaroo or an emu could be seen near the
banks. The simple black men, the aborigines of the
place, were induced to sell their proprietary rights in
this lonely spot for an assortment of tomahawks, knives,
blankets, red shirts, and other articles which their
unenlightened minds considered more valuable than
a tract of swamp and woodland ; a log cabin was built,
and the City of Melbourne, which in half a century was
to be the largest city in the British colonial empire, was
founded on the banks of the Yarra.
Like a troublesome child, it soon gave signs of pos-
sessing a will of its own, and it was not five years old
when it began to scream for separation from New
South Wales, which at that time included the present
colony of Victoria. The precocious vitality of the place
was quickened by the attainment of independence, after
eleven years of agitation ; and it prospered so greatly
and increased so rapidly that Melbourne is now one of
the richest cities of the I^ritish Empire, and a population
exceeding that of Manchester is settled on the banks of
a small river which, within living memory, was unknown
to h^uropeans. The development of Melbourne would
be extraordinary even in America.
On the Shore of the Southern Ocean. 157
Melbourne, like Rome, is said to be built upon seven
hills, but it is not easy to distinguish them in the undu-
lating ground covered with houses. The fields on the
banks of the Yarra are reserved as a public park, and on
the further side rises the hill on which Government
House stands. It seems to be the destiny of the local
representative of the Imperial Power in a British colony
to be lodged in a mansion devoid of architectural merit.
The order to which a Government House belongs is not
always apparent, but as a rule it is a clumsy adapta-
tion of Italian, Classic, or Gothic. It is impossible to
veil the defects of Government House at Melbourne, for
it stands on the crest of a hill, and is visible from every
part of the city. A tower suggestive of waterworks
surmounts it, and it might easily be mistaken for a
pumping-station.
Melbourne is, without doubt, a handsome city. The
rigid lines of the streets and the rectangular blocks of
houses give it a somewhat severe and formal appear-
ance, but in a new country this is inevitable. Collins
Street would be admired in Paris or Vienna — in London
it would be considered superb. It runs from the exten-
sive hovel known as Spencer Street Railway Station to
the Government offices in Spring Gardens, a distance of
over a mile, at first falling slightly to a shallow depres-
sion and then mounting to the crest of the rising
ground beyond. Many of the banks and houses of
business are fine buildings, though wanting in uni-
formit}- of design and elevation. \x\ enormous coffee
palace, meretriciously gilded, is the most remarkable
object in the lower part of the street.
A block half-way up the street contains the princi-
pal shops. In the morning it is the rendczxous and
favourite promenade of the ladies who have come uj)
from the suburbs for shopping ; and as the majority of
158 The Modern Odyssey.
Australian women who show themselves out of doors
are good-looking, well-dressed, and not advanced in
years, the appearance of The Block on a fine day in the
height of the season is brilliant. It serves as the Bond
Street as well as the Rotten Row of Melbourne. It has
been remarked by many English travellers that Aus-
tralian women never drop their eyes when meeting a
stranger on The Block.
No one expects to find picturesque streets in a city
hardly fifty years old, and it is useless in Australia to
look for the quaint beauty with which time invests
primitive structures, and which may be seen in endless
variety in Europe and Asia. While the more important
thoroughfares of Melbourne do not greatly differ from
the public ways of an English city, the smaller streets
are decidedly better. They are not infested by beggars,
and it is rare to see a poorly clad person in them. The
houses, if not beautiful, are substantial. It would be
difficult to discover a squalid dwelling in Melbourne,
except, perhaps, in the Chinese quarter. The working
classes are housed more comfortably than many persons
of much higher position in England. The miserable
hovels which occupy so large a portion of an English
town, and are not unknown even in America, are few and
far between in Australia. Life at the Antipodes has not
been degraded into a struggle for existence in the midst
of dirt and disease. In a country where wages are high,
and the hours of labour but a third of the day, the
general average of prosperity must be high, and the
appearance of the populous places will reflect it.
The chief streets are traversed throughout the whole
of their length by lines of cable tramways — a swift, con-
venient, and comfortable mode of locomotion extending
to all parts of the city, and to some of the suburbs.
The cars arc propelled by an unseen agency, which is,
On the Shore of the Southern Ocean. 159
in fact, an endless cable carried in a trench and driven
by a steam-engine at a centra! station. A " gripper "
attached to a lever on the platform takes hold of the
rope, which can be easily discn[Taged when the car
reaches the fixed points at which stoppages are made.
The cars are not halted at any other spot, and a stranger
in Melbourne can often be recognised by his fruitless
efforts to arrest them elsewhere. The system has these
disadvantages : the initial cost of construction is high,
and occasionally a broken rope or an accident to the
machinery paralyses the traffic over a length of many
miles, and leaves a row of cars standing helplessly at
intervals of a few hundred yards ; but its utility and
popularity are shown by the fact that in one half-year no
less than 20,000,000 passengers travelled over the lines.
The chief clubs of the metropolis of Victoria are the
Melbourne and the Australian. The former, which is
the older and the more exclusive, is established in a fine
house in the upper and quieter end of Collins Street, and
to its kind hospitality many English travellers arc in-
debted for much of the pleasure which a visit to
Melbourne can afford, as a stranger who had no other
pied-d-tcrrc than the very moderate hotels would fare
ill. The dining-hall is, perhaps, the handsomest club-
room in the world. The smoking-room and the billiard-
room open on to a green lawn, of which the sworn
enemies, the club cat and the laughing jackass — whose
guffaw under the window sounds weirdly in European
ears at dawn — are the freeholders, and the members of
the club but tenants at will. He overflows with humour.
When the cat is asleep, and dreaming of the far-away
land where fat mice dance round brimming bowls of
cream and where terriers are not, his brain is hatching
wicked practical jokes. To all appearance he is lookiiig
ordinary and taking no notice ; but there is a grim
i6o The Modern Odyssey.
twinkle in his eye as he stealthily approaches the sleep-
ing beauty, and in a moment his powerful beak is prod-
ding her in the side or tweaking her tail. Before she
has time to remonstrate he is standing at a respectful
distance, with half-closed eye and an innocent and
sleepy expression. The cat retreats, and consoles her
wounded dignity by appropriating the most comfortable
arm-chair in the smoking-room.
The Bohemians are a small and lively club, com-
posed mainly of the younger members of the Melbourne
and the Australian, and established in the upper floors
of a house in Collins Street. Here the wilder spirits,
who would be stifled if condemned to dwell for ever in
the repose and decorum of the sedater communities, can
open the floodgates of their gaiety in congenial society.
The Bohemians were originally a cricket club, and the
members must be under the age of fifty and able to
play cricket or sing a song, and, above all, must be jolly
good fellows. The Saturday dinner is a noisy and
pleasant function, followed by songs, recitations, and
dramatic fragments ; and none know better than the
Bohemians how to enjoy themselves or how to entertain
their guests. A frolicsome evening spent with them is
a pleasure long to be remembered.
The beautiful scenery of many parts of America has
been spoilt to a great extent by the untoward genius of
the people ; but although Australia does not possess
equal natural advantages, the better instinct of the in-
habitants has made the most of them. While Australia
has generally treated Nature with respect, it is difficult
to travel many miles in the more populous States of the
Union without being confronted with some of the terrible
disfigurements which the American people have inflicted
on her face.
On the Shore of the Southern Ocean. i6i
Although the country and the seashore near Mel-
bourne are not especially attractive, the suburbs have not
made them less so, but are neat, and sometimes pretty.
The Yarra winds in a ravine on the eastern side of the
city, between Collingwood and Kew, and from the
shoulder of the steep bank the view is pleasing. The
woods in the foreground hide the city, save its domes and
spires, and in the distance rise Mount Macedon and the
Dividing Range, purple with wattles and gums. When
the slight haze overhanging the city changes the tints of
the setting sun, the sky in the west above the plain often
shows colouring and aerial effects that would have de-
lighted Turner, and the clear air and luminous expanse
of Port Phillip enhance the bright aspect of the scene.
The heart of Melbourne lies about two miles from
the shore, but the city has come down to the water and
spread itself along the strand. Not much, however, can
be said of that part which lies on Hobson's Ba}-, except
that it is not so unlovely as a suburb in a similar position
in America would be ; but St. Kilda and the other
suburbs lying near the shore to the south-east of the
city are more bright and cheerful than any English sea-
side town. Roses and other flowering plants abound,
instead of the dreary tamarisks and melancholy ever-
greens which seem doomed, like Tithonus, always to
grow old but never to die. The climate is, no doubt, the
main cause of the gay aspect of the suburbs of Mel-
bourne ; but the well-built houses, with their ornamented
and often ornamental verandahs and balconies, and their
bright little gardens, deserve to be commended for their
share in producing the pleasant impression. /Mthough
the port is landlocked, the low, distant shore is beneath
the horizon ; and if it were not for the absence of the
long swell, no one could tell that the haven was not open
to the Southern Ocean.
1 62 The Modern Odyssey.
The Brighton of England has become the parent of
many other Brightens in various parts of the world, and
the name is established as the designation of the mari-
time suburb of a great city. There is a Brighton near
New York and there is a Brighton near Melbourne.
The latter lies to the south of St. Kilda, and beyond it is
Sandringham — a place which has only just entered upon
its career. Here low cliffs, densely wooded with white-
flowering shrubs, rise above the water, and a grassy
point, bright with Cape Weed in the spring and summer,
juts out into the sea, and all kinds of shells and sea-
weeds — which should rather be called sea-flowers —
abound upon the tideless shore. Further inland are
Caulfield and Toorak, with which the only fault to be
found is the rigid straightness of the roads and the
squareness of the corners. A curve here and there in the
streets, or some deviation from mathematical accuracy
in the laying out of the townships, would have greatly
improved their appearance. The houses have no need
to herd together for mutual protection against the ele-
ments, and are surrounded by large gardens and pleasure-
grounds, in which the wealth and beauty of the shrubs,
trees, and flowers appear marvellous to a native of the
island that is moored between the cold German Ocean
and the turbulent Atlantic.
Queenscliffe is thirty-five miles by water and double
that distance by land from Melbourne, but it may be
regarded as a suburb of the city. It lies at the entrance
to Port Phillip, on an inner headland of the little bay
facing Point Nepean, and it is a quiet place with rect-
angular streets, neat houses, and no drains. It is not
yet a lively town ; but, as the nearest site to Melbourne
which is washed by the ocean, it has perhaps a future
before it. The town is well placed. On one side is the
spacious pocjl, more than a hundred miles in circumfer-
On the Shore of the Southern Ocean. 163
cnce, into which the little Yarra empties itself; on the
other side the rollers of the Antarctic break upon a
sandy shore, after a journey of many a league before
they can touch the strand of Lonsdale Bay.
No land intervenes between it and the far-away
fields of ice and the mysterious region encircling the
South Pole, from which truant islands sometimes detach
themselves and approach to within a few degrees of the
Australian coast. The sun is setting ; the strand is
white with surf; the sea is heaving to the breeze that
yesterday fluttered round the crystal structures which the
icy air has built on the ocean — the habitations of a cold,
pure, silent world, which only the albatross has seen. It
is pleasant to linger here awhile.
The inhabitants of South Australia, with that in-
stinctive partiality for things Australian which has
brought such an ample measure of fame to S>'dney Har-
bour, sometimes venture to compare Adelaide to
Florence ; and as it is now accessible by railway from
Melbourne, every traveller with a few days to spare can
judge forhimsclf how farthe comparison can be maintained.
The distance is about five hundred miles, and the express
covers it in the respectable time of eighteen hours. A
short halt is made at the quiet town of Gcclong, whence
the train runs for fifty miles without stopping to J^allarat,
the City of Gold.
Whatever l^allarat ma)- have been in the rough times
which followed the discovery of the alluring metal —
when on one occasion the claim of the Crown to the gold
as treasure trove * rendered it necessary to employ a line
regiment of British infantry to coerce the miners and
their leader, an Irishman, who afterwards rose to honour,
* A similar claim to the gold lately discovered in Wales has been
asserted and maintained without bloodshed.
L 2
164 The Modern Odyssey.
and was lately Speaker of the Legislative Assembly — it
is now a well-built, peaceable, and attractive city. It
bears no outward sign of the fierce rush and struggle
of its young days, and the delirium of the gold fever has
long since been subdued. The streets are wide and
clean, and planted not only with the indigenous gum-
tree, but also with elms, pines, and oaks ; and thus the
chief defect in Australian scenery — the monotony of the
foliage — has been remedied.
Ballarat will be one of the fairest cities in Australia
when, in the course of a generation or two, these trees shall
have advanced to maturity. It is surrounded by the rich
hills where the gold is quarried, and on one side it is
touched by Lake Wendouree, a pretty sheet of water
lined with willows and pines. The Botanical Gardens,
on the further shore, are especially beautiful, as, in addi-
tion to flowers and shrubs, poplars, firs, and chestnuts
have been planted, and the exotics have taken kindly to
their new home. The suburb of Ballarat adjacent to the
lake surpasses Brighton or Caulficld. The houses are
not large, but they are covered with roses and flowering
creepers. Hedges of hawthorn enclose the gardens ;
the laurels are greener than in the chill north, and the
white lilacs in blossom are an enchanting sight.
When the scent of the flowers fills the air, and a
hundred colours meet the eye ; when the sky above is
unclouded, and the sun is streaming through the foliage
of English trees in Ballarat, all desire to visit the moun-
tains in which Nature has carefully hidden the coveted
metal passes away. The mines are scattered over the
scarred hill-side, and the wounds can never be effaced ;
but the flowers are close at hand, and far more lovely
than rocks sparkling here and there with a morsel of
gold. Horace once commended the man who could re-
frain from looking back at piled-up gold : what a delight-
0.\ THE Shore of the Southern Ocean. 165
ful ode he would have written on Lake Wendource and
the flowers and green leaves of Ballarat, set in the midst
of the mountains where the wild gold grows ; and how
pleasantly he would have assured us that it is better to
light upon a rose in a garden than to find a heap of gold
in the hills !
From Ballarat the line, after crossing the Grampians
and the Pyrenees — two Australian ranges which lie closer
together and are less lofty than their prototypes in
Europe — gradually descends to the South Australian
border. It does not often happen that any doubt exists
as to the State in which a place is situated, but a cer-
tain district lying near the western boundary of Victoria
is in this ambiguous condition. When South Australia
was constituted an independent colony, a scientific fron-
tier was made the dividing line between it and New
South Wales, which at that time included Victoria, in-
stead of a natural boundary, such as a river or the
ridge of a mountain range. The frontier was, in fact,
so scientific that it could only be determined by refer-
ence to objects many millions of miles distant from
Australia — namely, the sun and the stars. The 141st
meridian east of Greenwich was ordered by Parliament
to be the boundary between the colonies in question.
Most people are aware that the meridians are purely
imaginary. They are not marked out on the face of the
earth as they appear on the maps, and their position has
therefore to be determined by astronomical observations.
The survc\-ors set to work, and laid down the scientific
frontier to the best of their abilit)- ; but it has been latel}'
discovered that they made an error of several miles, and
that the 141st meridian prescribed b}' Parliament lies
wide of the border as defined by them. There is, in fact,
a belt of Xo Alan's Land between Victoria and South
Australia. This district is now in a state of suspension,
1 66 The Modern Odyssey.
and the inhabitants have before them the chance of
finding themselves suddenly handed over to another
colony and of coming under the jurisdiction of another
code of laws. In questions of taxation and of land
tenure serious inconvenience would be caused. The
matter has not yet been settled ; and the Privy Council,
which is the tribunal appointed to unravel the tangled
skein of colonial legislation, has been petitioned to
decide it.
South Australia — or, as it should be styled, Mid-
Australia — though almost the largest in area, is the least
progressive of the Australian colonies. It has many
natural advantages — such as a central position and an
extent of coast-line indented with harbours and havens
both on the southern and the northern shore. In some
ways it has been the most enterprising of the colonies.
It constructed a line of telegraph from Port Darwin
across the continent, thereby putting Australia in com-
munication with the rest of the world, and a railway to
connect the northern territory with Adelaide is in pro-
gress. South Australia, however, is not prosperous. It
is an unwieldy giant with feeble circulation, and lags
behind in the race. It is burdened with unproductive
and inaccessible territory. The tropical province is
practically as far removed from the capital as the West
Indies are from London, and the central portion is un-
explored.
A wilderness which, even when traversed in an express
train, seems interminable, and in which nothing is seen
save low shrubs of uniform height, intervenes between
the border and the Murray. The river flows with a
gentle, placid stream ; and though it has received the
tribute of the Darling, the Lachlan, the Murrumbidgee,
and many smaller affluents rising in the western slopes
of the Australian Alps and the Blue Mountains, it is so
On the Shore of the Southern Ocean. 167
parched by the sun and so dwindled in its course that
it is comparatively small when it reaches the sea, and
its mouth is so encumbered with alluvial deposits that
only vessels of moderate tonnage can enter it. It pro-
duces an excellent fish, called the Murray cod, which is
in request at the Melbourne clubs.
The line crosses the Murray, and enters the hilly dis-
trict lying between the river and the Gulf of St. Vincent.
The low, rolling eminences are covered with green scrub,
but wherever the ground has been cleared for tillage the
soil shows red and rich. An aromatic scent fills the air,
and wild flowers are abundant, especially a kind of yellow
daisy called the Cape Weed, which was accidentally im-
ported from South Africa, and which, though it gives a
gay appearance to the country in spring, is a great im-
pediment to agriculture, as it cannot be exterminated
and stock will not eat it. The train emerges from the
Mount Lofty range, which is not so high as its name
implies, and slowly descends to Adelaide. The view
from the mouth of the tunnel over the yellow plain is
altogether pleasing. The shining hamlets are dotted
here and there upon the shore, and Adelaide stands in
the midst of the sunny fields, which have a calm blue
sea at rest by their side.
The streets of Adelaide were laid out by compass,
and run in the direction of the cardinal points. Not a
very large amount of business or traffic is carried on in
them ; and though the city is well built of stone and
contains some handsome edifices, it wears the air of a
lady in reduced circumstances. Government House is
surrounded b}- a wall, which gives it the appearance of a
prison, and enriches the collection of colonial official
mansions with a unicjue specimen. Hard]}' a sound is
heard in the streets at night. A motherly caution to
cabmen and others, " Walk over crossing — walk round
1 68 The Modern Odyssfy.
corner," is affixed to the telegraph-poles and lamp-posts.
A belt of park-lands, laid out in gardens and boule-
vards, encircles the city, and the little river Torrens, to
which the inhabitants have given the honorary title of
lake, runs through it.
Adelaide is not a very lively place, and it is exces-
sively hot in summer, but all who have an opportunity
to do so .should visit it. The majority of persons reach
Australia from the west, and, as all the mail steamers
stay a few hours off Port Adelaide, a hurried expedition
is usually made to the capital of South Australia, which
has thus the privilege of supplying the traveller with his
first impressions of Australia. In reality, however, it is
by no means a typical Australian city, and it differs as
widely from Melbourne as Edinburgh differs from Lon-
don. It is only a quiet place in a very sunny plain, and
though not wealthy, it seems to be tolerably contented
with its lot, cherishing, perhaps, at the same time a secret
hope, rather than an expectation, that the river of pro-
sperity may flow some day in its direction. Its resem-
blance to P^lorence is not apparent.
The journey from the capital of Victoria to the capi-
tal of New South Wales, from the Yarra to the Para-
matta, can now be made by rail. The Sydney express,
leaving ^lelbourne in the afternoon, traverses the first
sixty miles without stopping, and is probably the only
train south of the equator which regularly performs such
a feat. The line passes out of the city into a district
of meadows and fields, which need but a {^^^ hedges
to give them an old-world appearance, and gradually
rises through partially cleared forests of gums and wattles
to the Dividing Range. At Seymour, where the first halt
is made, a rapid gorge — after the manner of Swindon —
ma}' be effected. Another hour brings the train into the
On the Shore of the Southern Ocean. 169
district infested, not many years ago, by the hero of the
larrikins of Melbourne, the bushranger Kelly ; and here
the line is the boundary between two counties, which is
probably a unique example of a railway being utilised
for geographical purposes. A place bearing the poetical
name of Violet Town is not of sufficient importance to
delay the express, which, after lingering at Wodonga,
the border town of Victoria, crosses the Murray into
New South Wales, and reaches Albury an hour before
midnight.
Albury is a quiet little town in a favourable situa-
tion, which will probably lead to its being selected as the
Federal city of the gradually forming Australian Con-
federation, and the vineyards on the neighbouring hill-
sides may some day make the Albury vintages as well
known as the wines of Bordeaux or Xerez. Another
circumstance gives Albury a certain advantage which it
would not otherwise possess. The absence of reasonable
co-operation on the part of the colonies has resulted in
the Victorian railways being built to the Irish gauge of
5 feet 3 inches, while New South Wales adopted the
English gauge of 4 feet 8^ inches. The running of
through trains between the two systems is thereby ren-
dered impossible, and all passengers are obliged to
change carriages at Albury, and some are induced by
the enforced break in the journey to spend a few hours,
or, it may be, a night or two, in the town,
From Albury a journey of twelve hours, through a
country covered for the most part with gum-forests, and
watered here and there by a river fringed with willows,
brings the train to the banks of the Paramatta. New
South Wales is very thinly populated, and when, in the
early morning, the mist U'ing upon the surface hides the
few cultivated fields near the line, the forest and the hills
in the distance which alone are seen show Australia in
I/O The Modern Odyssey.
its pristine state of solitude. A virgin land, even though
it may not possess much scenic beauty, is always at-
tractive. Nature's gardens, lawns, and tilth can seldom
be improved, and the birds and four-footed creatures
to whom she entrusts them are very careful of their
charge.
A land journey from Adelaide to Sydney by way of
Melbourne will reveal the fact that, in the equipment of her
railways, Australia is distinctly in advance of America.
The more far-seeing, if more expensive, policy of pro-
viding even the pioneer lines with all the latest appli-
ances and improvements has been adopted. The
permanent way is more carefully laid ; the country
stations are neat and convenient buildings ; the safety of
trains travelling on single lines is ensured by the use of
the staff, and is not dependent on the memory of a
train-despatcher ; and the interlocking of points and
signals, which is exceptional in America, is usual in
Australia. The superiority of the Australian railways
is due to the circumstance that they were constructed by
the Colonial Governments, and not by private companies
whose interest it was, in the absence of competition, to
provide the cheapest possible line. Free passes are
given with much liberality to visitors, and as of right to
all British ofificers above the rank of subaltern, and even
to a subaltern who has any claim to the hospitality of a
British colony, such as a wound in Burmah which has
necessitated his being sent on sick leave to Australia.
In the minor detail of refreshments, the Victorian
railways set an example to all other railways. There
are not many places, and certainly no railway stations,
either in Europe or America, where passengers can ob-
tain a meal of soup or fish, hot joint with potatoes and
other vegetables, bread, butter, cheese, and marmalade,
salad and pickles, and tea or coffee, for cightccnpcnce ;
^^i^-*" ^
On the Shore of the Southern Ocean. 171
or a beefsteak, with bread, butter, and cheese, and half a
pint of colonial wine, for a shilling.
Australia, if a less interesting country than America,
is certainly a more comfortable. The din, bustle, and
worry peculiar to the New World are absent. America
is a machine in perpetual motion, on insufficiently
lubricated bearings. Everyone is panting in the race
for power or wealth. Life in the United States is repre-
sented by an express train rushing wildly over an uneven
country : life at the Antipodes by the measured pro-
gress of a well-laden ship over a tranquil ocean. An
air of steady and sober prosperity pervades an Austra-
lian city. It is well-built, well-governed, and pleasing,
if not always handsome, in appearance. The Melbourne
streets are not disfigured by bad pavements, ragged
telegraph and telephone wires, and an indiscriminate dis-
play of advertisements ; and the side-walks are as good
as could be desired. More attention is paid to the com-
fort of the community than to the interests of indivi-
duals ; and the neat, orderly appearance of a large Aus-
tralian city, when compared with the haphazard, helter-
skelter agglomeration of buildings — mean, moderate,
and splendid — intersected by ill-conditioned thorough-
fares, which constitutes a city in the United States, at
once strikes a traveller recently arrived from the other
side of the Pacific. ^
CHAPTER XII.
AN AUSTRALIAN VANITY FAIR.
A LITTLE more than a century ago, eleven ships sailed
from England in company for the coast which Cook had
discovered in the previous decade, and to which, from its
fancied resemblance to the Welsh coast, he had given the
name of New South Wales. Three store-ships and six
convict-ships were convoyed by the frigate Siriiis and her
tender to a continent which was then as little known as
the Antarctic continent is at the present day. The idea
seems to have been that, so long as the convicts were
removed from Great Britain, it did not much matter
what happened to them. The possibility of their be-
coming the founders of a new colonial Empire which
would replace the recently lost American continent was
never entertained.
A tedious voyage of eight months was broken at Rio
de Janeiro and the Cape of Good Hope, and at length
the dismal flotilla cast anchor in the haven to which Sir
Joseph Banks, the naturalist of Cook's expedition, had
given the name of Botany Ba\'. It was found to be
unfitted to be even a convict station, as the supply of
fresh water was insufficient, and the low land near the
shore was not adapted for settlement. The naval officer
in command thereupon set out in an open boat to search
the coast for a more convenient h iven, and soon found
an inlet a {tiw miles to the north which Cook had over-
An Australian Vanity Fair. 173
looked, but which proved to be, next to Rio, the finest
harbour in the world. The ships were transferred with-
out delay, the convicts were landed, and the colony was
established with due formality upon the banks of a little
stream.
When the King's proclamation had been recited and
the British flag hoisted, Captain Phillip set to work, like
Romulus, to build a city. The cockatoo and the wallaby
were startled by the sound of the woodman's axe, and
the aborigines stared at the strange white men passing
to and fro upon the shore. The first Government House
of the colony was a tent pitched by the side of a
rivulet which has long since disappeared, near the spot
where now Spring Street joins Pitt Street. The position
of the bridge by which it was crossed is indicated by
Bridge Street. A garden was planted close by with
flowers from home and trees from Brazil and South
Africa, but these also have vanished.
A succession of misfortunes beset the young colony.
The soil in the neighbourhood of the harbour was found
to be incapable of growing corn. An experimental farm
was therefore laid out a few miles higher up the river at
Rosehill, now called Paramatta, but its produce was
scarcely sufficient to sow another crop, and Sydney was
more than once within measurable distance of extinction
by starvation. The colony \vas dependent upon sea-
borne supplies, which often failed to arrive ; scurvy
broke out, and the food stock ran so low that every man,
from the Governor to the convict, was put upon an
allowance of flour, pork, and peas — all of which had
been some years in store. The state of the settlement
was at one time so critical that, in order to relieve the
pressure, two hundred of the convicts were sent to Nor-
folk Island, which had been reported to be fertile. The
Sirius was lost, and news came that a provision ship
1/4 The Modern Odyssey.
laden with two years* stores had been abandoned at
sea. The tender was despatched to Java, but six
months must elapse before she could return, and during
her absence the danger of perishing by hunger con-
tinued to threaten the colony.
Never did a city start in life so inauspiciously. A
thousand convicts were carelessly marooned upon a
barren shore, there left to their fate, and only pre-
served from destruction by the energy and prudence of
Captain Phillip, to whom more than to any other indi-
vidual Great Britain owes her Australian colonies. If an
enterprise conducted under such unfortunate circum-
stances, and so long involved in difficulties, had been
allowed to fail, the colonisation of Australia would not
have been effected by England for many years, or would
have been effected by another nation. When, however,
a settlement, which had had to fight its way against all
kinds of enemies, was observed to emerge from the con-
flict and to begin to live and thrive, the fitness of Aus-
tralia to receive the surplus population of the mother
country was recognised, and success was assured.
No one who looks at the brilliant city which has
spread itself over the bays and inlets of Port Jackson
would imagine that once its only denizens were half-
starved felons, or that there could have been a time when
people were glad to leave it for a small island in the
Pacific five hundred miles distant from the nearest land.
Like Byron's daughter, Sydney
" was born in bitterness
And nurtured in convulsion."
If, in the year 1788, any person had hazarded the
opinion that the hungry plantation of Port Jackson —
inhabited by prisoners at large, whose food was drawn
precariously from a distance of many thousand miles
An Australian Vanity Fair. 175
— would in a century have become a numerous, comfort-
able, respectable, and peaceable community, he would
have been ridiculed as a fanatical optimist. A comparison
of the Sydney of 1788 with the Sydney of 1888 is the best
proof that could be given of the colonising genius of
the British race. It is certain that no other nation — ex-
cept, perhaps, the Chinese — could have done as much
with such raw and stubborn materials.
Sydney lies upon a portion of the shores of the har-
bour formed by the meeting of the Paramatta and the
Pacific ; and, though built without the slightest regard to
architectural effect, the city has a certain haphazard
beauty of its own, derived mainly from its situation on
the bays and promontories of the haven. The first im-
pression of a stranger is one of disappointment. The
buildings, when viewed from the water, are common-
place, and no very prominent feature except the tower
of the Post Office rises above the roofs. But the early
discontent at the failure of an imaginary ideal is often
followed by a juster view of things ; for, whether Sydney
be judged by the standard of an American city of a few
generations' growth, or of an English city of equal size,
the verdict should not be unfavourable. The worst that
can be said of Sydney is that the advantages of its superb
situation have not }-et been fully utilised. It would be
unreasonable to expect too much in a place hardly a
hundred years old ; but, unfortunately, the capital of New
South Wales has been advertised as the professional
beauty of the cities of the world.
It is not, however, hypercritical to remark that,
although the indentations of the shore-line on either
side of the harbour give a frontage many miles in
length, no part of it has been converted into a broad
road similar to the Cliiaja at Naples or to the
176 The Modern Odyssey.
promenades of the towns of the Riviera, and that none
of the public edifices are placed where they could be
seen to advantage by the water's edge or on the rising
ground above it. In Farm Cove the land near the shore
has, it is true, been reserved as a botanic garden, with a
sea-wall for foot-passengers and Sunday loungers, but
the bay is small, and makes little difference in the appear-
ance of the city from the opposite side of the harbour.
There are no noble structures separated from the water
by spacious quays planted with handsome trees. A
broad parade or terrace, running along the shore of one
of the larger bays, would have greatly embellished
Sydney ; for the natural attractiveness of the harbour is
at present expended in neutralising the less attractive
aspect of the city. Some considerable portion of the
foreshore must no doubt be given up to commerce —
wharves, quays, warehouses, landing-stages, and their
appurtenances are unavoidable in every seaport ; but
these occupy a comparatively small portion of the
strand. The rest has, for the most part, been " jumped "
by private individuals for their own purposes, and the
formation of a grand marine boulevard has been ren-
dered impracticable. Money has been lavishly spent in
public buildings, which are not invariably ornamental,
and expense would not have stood in the way of the
proposed boulevard, which would have made Sydney
one of the most beautiful cities in the world.
It is not even now too late. The north shore has not
yet been covered very thickly with houses, and the
greater part of it remains in its natural state, livery
year, however, brings fresh encroachments, and it is
hopeless to expect that, within a mile of a populous
place. Nature will be long left alone. Commerce has
not yet invaded the quiet bays and slopes in force, and
there is still an opportunity of adorning some portion of
An Austral/ an Vanity I- air. 177
the shore. Perhaps a colonial Baron Ilaussmann will
some day be allowed to take, if not the city, at least
the north siiore in hand ; and if he is a person of taste
and judgment, Sydney would be able to call herself in
truth the Venice or the Genoa of the Pacific. If some of
the public buildings and larger private houses — as, for
example, the University and the two Cathedrals, and the
mansions of Darling Point and Double Bay — could be
reproduced across the water on the hill overlooking
Neutral Bay, and if the shore were lined with massive
stone quays from which flights of marble steps led down
to the water's edge, the effect would be superb.
Government House, with its grounds and gardens,
occupies a good position on the headland separating
P'arm Cove — the anchorage of the Australian Squadron
— from Circular Quay, where the ocean mail steamers
are berthed. It is not a striking building, being a some-
what grotesque example of Tudor Gothic of modem
design, surmounted by several lank turrets. If the
scheme to utilise the promontory as the site of a central
railway station is ever carried into effect, Sydnc}- will
not lose much by the demolition of the mansion, although
the conversion of the site to the uses of a terminus, with
all its accessories, would certainly render the future em-
bellishment of the city still more difficult. Yet, if out-
wardly Government House is not attractive, c\ery
traveller who has received the hospitalit}' of a popular
and genial Governor and of his beautiful wife looks back
to it with gratitude and pleasure.
There is not a mc^'c delightful form of social amuse-
ment than a ball at Go\-ernment House during the
Spring Races. Those people whose object in going to
a ball is to see as much as possible of many persons will
derive no less satisfaction than the more numerous class
who go in order to see as much as possible of one person.
M
178 The Modern Odyssey.
If the rooms are crowded, the terraces and gardens
sloping down to the water's edge are ideal shrines for
doing poojah to the moon, or for that solitude a deux
which is so delightful while it lasts, but which is often
so productive of mischievous results. If it is excusable
anywhere to sit out a round dance, it is so in Sydney.
Under the serene Australian sky the calm haven reflects
every star in the heavens ; the moonlight softens all the
distance, and the outline of the north shore is just discern-
ible across the haven ; dimly through the silvery haze
that rests upon the water, the phantom of a ship is
seen gliding down to the sea ; and in a little while the
diverging waves from her prow are heard whispering
upon the shore.
All that is commonplace or unlovely is hidden from
sight. A fairy mist floats across from some region
where Nature weaves her most delicate tissues, and
almost obliterates the images of the men-of-war at
anchor in the Cove, but the network of cordage is still
visible upon the face of the haze, which the moon has
made luminous. The city is at rest ; no sound breaks
into the stillness but the plash of the fountain, a whisper
under the trees, and the strains of the music ; the scent
of tropical flowers is exhaled into the air, and the paths
are paved with silver by the moonlight, which prints the
shapes of luxuriant foliage in ebony on the ground.
The streets of Sydney are, in general, irregularly
built and unattractive in appearance, and many are
scarcely better than the alleys which may be found in
the busy parts of Liverpool or Manchester. The com-
mercial houses and the public buildings, some of which
would command attention in a European city, suffer
greatly from their surroundings. This is especially
noticeable in the case of the Post Ofiicc, an edifice which
cannot be seen to advantage, as its base is squeezed in
An Australian Van/ty Fair. 179
the grasp of narrow streets. The Town Mall, however,
stands in a street of good width, close to the Anghcan
Cathedral, which, though the tendency of the ornamenta-
tion of AustraHan public buildings errs in the direction
of excessive elaboration of detail, has the opposite defect
of a too flat and plain exterior. The Post Office is sur-
mounted with a colossal figure of Britannia, seated on a
lion and armed with a trident, and the spandrels of one
front arc adorned with extraordinary allegorical figures
representing Commerce, Science, Art, and Literature.
The carvings have been so mercilessly criticised that the
colony is now ashamed of them and has sanctioned their
removal.
There is no street in Sydney equal in appearance to
Collins Street, or even to Bourke Street, in Melbourne.
The central portion of Macquarrie Street is the most
attractive spot within the city. One side is occupied by
some of the Government offices and by moderate-sized
and well-designed private mansions, and on the other lie
the grounds of Government House and a public park.
The street runs along the ridge of a hill, and the view,
though not very extensive, is pleasing. Near the southern
end stands a low, plain, unprepossessing structure. It was
intended to be a hospital, but was never used for that
purpose. The physical health of the colony being too
good to need its services, its original purpose was slightly
changed. It was converted into an asylum for male
persons suffering from various forms of political distem-
per, and is now occupied by the Legislative Chambers of
New South Wales.
Every large city uses a method of locomotion peculiar
to itself London has its hansoms, Venice its gondolas,
New York its elevated raihva\s and its cabs, in which
persons can be jolted over the worst pavements in the
world at a cost ne\cr less than a dollar a mile. The
-M 2
i8o The Modern Odyssey.
donkey of Cairo is favourably remembered by travellers
in Egypt ; and the coolie who draws the jinricksha in
Yokohama and Shanghai is perhaps the most satisfactory
draught animal in civilisation. Each of these systems
is preferable to the method adopted in Sydney. Though
the streets of the city are narrow, they have been en-
cumbered with lines of steam tramway, which is, in fact,
an unfenccd railway running on the level in the thick of
the foot and carriage traffic. The frequency of accidents
has caused it to be styled the "Sydney Juggernaut."
The cars and engines are clumsy and unsightly; the
trains travel at a reckless speed, and scarcely differ,
except in length, from a train on a railway, which, even
in the least thickly populated districts of a country, is
usually enclosed.
In an older civilisation the Sydney Juggernaut would
have been prohibited. But Sydney, if not so progressive
as other Australian cities, is more original. The cars
career almost at random through the city, and the
intersections of the main streets are used as junctions,
where, in addition to the ordinary vehicular traffic, three
or four trains may sometimes be seen converging at the
same time. A constant stream flows past the chief
crossings, swings round the corners, obstructs business,
frightens strange horses, and now and then kills a child.
At the terminus in Bridge Street the shunting and
marshalling of the cars is conducted in the roadway
itself, under the windows of the Colonial Secretary's
Office. The trains are less convenient than tramcars,
as they only stop at certain poiDts. Tickets must be
purchased beforehand, as an extra charge is made if the
fare is paid in money on the car ; and as each ticket is
only available for a certain distance, every section in-
volves a fresh collection.
If the number of houses set apart for the exercise of
An Australian Vanity Fair. i8i
any particular trade or profession is a test by which its
prosperity may be measured, then the calHng of a banker
is the most profitable occupation in Sydney. A new
and remunerative reading of the proud motto Advance
Australia has been introduced. Every facility is given
for obtaining advances. There are as many banks in
Sydney, where there is no extraordinary concentration
of trade, as in Liverpool with nearly treble the popu-
lation. The disparity may be accounted for by the
greater value of money incidental to the circumstances
of a new country, and by the large sums which are
continually passing from hand to hand — not so much
in course of trade as in mining, pastoral, and other
speculations.
A similar test applied to the smaller streets of the
suburbs leads to the very remarkable inference that
their staple industry is the disposal of the dead.
Undertakers' shops are almost as numerous as public-
houses in England, and would lead a stranger to
suppose that Sydney was an unhealthy city. Yet the
climate is favourable to vitality ; the death-rate is low,
and an unusual proportion of the inhabitants arc either
young or in the prime of life. It is difficult to reconcile
these facts, except on the supposition that much money
is wasted on unnecessary funeral pomp and display.
Sonic of the ordinar)' siglits of Sydne\' are unfamiliar
to Englishmen. The person in a white helmet and a red
tunic hurrying along the streets is not a soldier but a
postman. The boys cantering through the streets are
telegraph messengers. Many hansoms arc seen, but no
four-wheeled cabs. The sidewalks are usually roofed
in on the sunn\- side — that is, on the side which faces
the north. The telegraph wires are not reticulated abo\"C
the houses, but carrietl, as the\" should be in ever\- well-
regulated cit}-, on posts rising out of the kerbstone.
1 82 The Modern Odyssey.
In addition to the official information— which is
usually all that is to be found in a post-office at
home — the latest shipping intelligence, as well as full
reports of the weather over the whole of Australasia,
are displayed in the General Post Office at Sydney,
where also proof is given of the importance with which
such an incident as the arrival of the European mails is
regarded in the life of the colony. The lofty tower,
which commands the greater part of the suburbs and
the harbour, is utilised for signalling the movements
of the mail steamers; and the approach of the Ormuz,
the Victoria, or the Occanicn to King George's Sound
or to Adelaide is forthwith notified from the flagstaff to
the expectant city.
The absence of electric lights in the streets, and of
lifts in the houses, will be noticed by any traveller w^ho
has been in America. The absence of the latter is re-
markable, for Sydney is not a city in which people are
accustomed to take unnecessary trouble. The lethargy
induced by a hot climate is already beginning to affect
it, and the inhabitants show signs of languor — at least,
in matters of business. The push and bustle which
precede and ensure success are absent. It is not that
decay has set in, but rather that the exuberant vitality
and restless energy which should characterise a young
and hitherto prosperous community are not apparent.
The streets are not crowded with men rushing to and
fro in pursuit of wealth, and even on the noble Circular
Quay an air of listlessness sometimes prevails.
The business habits of the place are inactive and
irregular, and retard its natural development. If a
stranger enters a shop and cannot find the article he
rcqviircs, no attempt is made to divert his wishes into
another channel and to persuade him to buy that which
he does not want, an omission which, though very
An Australian Vanity Fair. 183
advantageous to himself, is not likely to develop trade ;
and he is allowed to depart with a crestfallen feeling
that his desires were too ignorant and too untimely
to be gratified, and that he was an unfit person to be
trusted to make a purchase.
If he wishes to see the principal or the partner of a
firm, the chances are that he will not be able to do so in
the way of business. Their existence and their move-
ments are hidden by their subordinates in a mysterious
halo. The head partner has gone to the Blue Mountains,
or is yachting in the harbour. The junior partner has
gone to the Hawkesbury, or China, or Greenland, or the
Kermedec Islands, or somewhere, as usual towards the
end of the week, and the date of his return is quite
uncertain. He usually returns on Monday or Tuesday,
occasionally not until Wednesday or Thursday, but
there is little doubt that he will be in the office on
Friday. No, it is doubtful whether a telegram would
reach him, but there would be no harm in trying ;
though he makes it a rule never to attend to business
matters when away from Sydney. It is not hard to
account for the fact that Melbourne is gradually be-
coming the commercial metropolis of Australia.
The native pedantr}- of the German showed itself in
the man of blood and iron when Prince Bismarck an-
nounced his disco\-ery that sex applies to nations as
well as to indixiduals. The cities of the world may be
similarly classified. Melbourne belongs, without doubt,
to the male category. It is masculine in temperament,
habits, appearance, demeanour, and wa)' of thinking,
and it would be emblematically represented by the figure
of a )'oung and prosperous tradesman in a large wa}- of
business. Sj'dney, on the other hand, is a woman ; and
in her \-ounger da)-s she was a very naughty child. All
her characteristics are feminine. She is pla}-ful, ga\-,
184 The Modern Odyssey,
sprightly, and inexact. She frolics in the sunshine, while
Melbourne is hard at work exporting wool. She takes
off her shoes and stockings, and paddles in the waves of
the Pacific, and makes a face at her staid male cousin in
Victoria. She is not quite beautiful, nor altogether an
ornament to the haven of which she has taken possession,
but she is a nice-looking and an exceedingly pleasant
and volatile young person. She is more companionable
but less trustworthy than Melbourne. She poses as the
spoilt child of the Southern Ocean, and a trifle offends
her, and a trifle appeases. A casual word of praise
bestowed upon Melbourne makes her sulk for a month.
Sydney, regarded as the playground, as the Vanity
Fair of Australia, is without a rival. Social life is in
some places a comedy, in others a burlesque, in others
almost a melodrama. In Sydney it is an operetta. The
merry and light-hearted players frolic upon the sunny
stage: a stranger joins the troupe, and is quickly allowed
to feel as though he had belonged to it for years. British
stiffness seems unable to exist south of the Equator.
Nothing can exceed the cordiality with \\hich a stranger
is welcomed. It is not the welcome proceeding from a
desire to satisfy curiosity, for Australia has emerged from
that primitive state in which every strange animal or
object from a distant land is regarded as a thing to be
stared at, but it is the welcome which comes from
kindness of heart. A community in which there are
no very great distinctions of rank, and in which wealth,
if not very evenly distributed, at least cannot be spent
very lavishly — the simplicity of the establishments and
of the mode of living of some of the wealthiest people
in Sv'dncy is remarkable — is favourably placed for the
cultivation of society, or friendly intercourse in its best
form.
A genial climate, congenial tastes on the part of
An Australian Vanity Fair. 185
the people, a suitable neighbourhood, and the absence
of very engrossing occupations, have made picnicking
the favourite form of daytime amusement in Sydney.
A Sydney picnic does not wear the school-treat and
bank-holiday air which distinguishes the English picnic.
It is not an aggregation of individuals bent on consum-
ing food under unusual conditions in the open air. It is
a pastoral play. The banks of the Paramatta and the
bays and inlets of " our beautiful harbour " offer ex-
cellent stages for the performance. Sometimes the hill
overlooking the Pacific at Manley Beach is selected ;
sometimes a bosky retreat among the gum-trees of
Middle Harbour. The performers are carefully selected
by the acting- manager, with due regard to mutual
affinities and preferences, and also to the just balance
of the sexes ; and when the pleasant lever du ridean — a
voyage to the chosen spot in a steam launch across
the calm haven sparkling in the sun — is over, the per-
formance begins in earnest. The banquet is served, and
the first scene having been enacted without a hitch, the
company break off in pairs, like the animals of the Ark.
It is natural that very many foolish things should be
said and done upon such an occasion, but there seems
to be a sort of tacit understanding that the character
of a Masque shall be maintained tliroughoiit.
It must not, however, be supposed that picnics hold
a monopoly for sui)pl\'ing the people of Sydnc}' with
amusement. Australian women are general!}' active,
graceful, and well dressed, and show to adxantage when
in motion ; and dancing, lawn tennis, and rink skating
therefore stand high in poi)ular estimation. If e\"er the
latter deserves to be called poetr\- on wheels, it is in
Sydne\-, at a private skating part\- in the Rcdfcrn Ex-
hibition Building. At balls ever\- one dances — even the
old women. No ball-rcjom is encumbered with a LranLT
1 86 The Modern Odyssey.
of useless young men who hang about the doors and
refuse to be comforted ; and professional sitters-out,
whether male or female, are not numerous. The abun-
dance of flowers makes the work of decoration easy,
and one of the most charming sights in the social
world is a crowded ball-room in the Australian Vanity
Fair.
It seems probable that in the course of the next few
generations Melbourne wnll absorb most of the trade
of Australia, and that Sydney will become the resort of
the unemployed of the upper classes, and more than
ever the city of pleasure : perhaps, even, Sydney fashions
will be quoted in Australia as the fashions of Paris are
quoted in Europe and America. There may, however,
be a worthier destiny in store for her, and it is one that
is within her grasp. Letters, science, and art must have
their metropolis, no less than commerce. Let Sydney
cheerfully acknowledge the commercial supremacy of
Melbourne, and, having ceased to be so foolishly en-
vious of it, endeavour to win for herself such a position
in Australia as Boston holds in America, that the
middle or end of the twentieth century may find Sydney
renowned, not merely as at present for her beautiful har-
bour, but as a community whose opinions are listened to
with respect and attention, and as the intellectual metro-
polis of the southern hemisphere.
The spirit of opposition and depreciation is so deeply
engrained in human nature, that if there were in the
world a spot of ideal and perfect beauty it would be im-
politic to praise it as it deserved. Men derive satisfac-
tion from the egotistic consciousness that they are able
to rise superior to the ignorant enthusiasms of their
neighbours. The first person who discovered that there
were spcjts on the sun was probably delighted with the
/?-V Austral/an Vanity Fair. 187
imperfection which had escaped the eyes of many gene-
rations. Extravagant laudation has impaired the repu-
tation of many admirable things, and the pleasure of
gazing at a beautiful scene is often discounted by highly
coloured descriptions of it.
It is so in the case of " our beautiful harbour," as
the people of Sydney proudly and affectionately desig-
nate their haven. The haven is an arm of the Pacific
merging into the firth of the Paramatta, and the shore
line is more than a hundred and fifty miles in length.
On each side bays, inlets, and minor havens encroach
upon the land, which, where it has not been cleared for
building purposes, is covered with gum-trees. Many of
the bays are lovely retreats, but they have a family like-
ness to each other, and there is little variety and gran-
deur in the picture. The dark foliage is too violent a
contrast to the gleaming city, and the lack of inter-
mediate tones is tiring to the eye. It is a scene composed
of charming details. The solitary strands of the seques-
tered inlets, with the woods coming down to the water's
edge, are ideal places of repose in a sunny clime ; the
strips of ocean burrowing into the land, and appearing
and re-appearing on all sides, are pleasant to the eye ;
but, nevertheless, the general effect is not very beautiful
or impressive.
S\'dncy Harbour was designed b\- Xature in a pre-
Raphaelite mood ; and, when ever\' allowance has been
made for the invincible reluctance of individuals to
acknowledge the correctness of public opinion, its attrac-
tions do appear to have been examined by the partial
Australian through a microscope. Xot that it is not
beautiful in its way, but it is hardly so enchanting as the
strangers who know it only b\- repute are led to believe.
In Ik^tany l^ay — a loch coinnumicating with the sea
a few miles south of the entrance to S\"dnc}' Harbour —
1 88 The Modern Odyssey.
the first chapter of AustraHan history was written. Two
monuments record the successful acquisition of the
country by one Empire and the failure of another to
make a settlement in it. A brass tablet marks the spot
where Captain Cook landed, and a column on the oppo-
site promontory stands to the memory of Captain de la
Perouse, who arrived on the coast with the intention of
annexing it to the kingdom of France, only to find that
the commander of the Endeavour had forestalled him.
To him was allotted a double measure of misfortune ;
for he not only followed blindly in the trail of Cook, but
soon after leaving Botany Bay he perished, with all his
men, upon the Barrier Reef.
The Australian rivers which flow into the Pacific are
insignificant, but the scenery on their banks is generally
pleasing, and often beautiful. The shores of the Para-
matta, for a distance of several miles above Sydney, are
the most attractive part of the harbour. The northern
bank of the river is not so much indented with bays as
the southern ; the inlets are wider, and do not run very
deeply into the land; thus the expanse of water in view
is broader. The islands and headlands near the city are
covered with docks, engineering works, and factories,
but higher up the natural beauty of the river is un-
smirched. The Paramatta is a tranquil, bright stream,
var)ing greatly in width ; bends and reaches, merging
gradually into one another, take the place of the compli-
cated system of bays in the lower harbour, which is, in
f.ict, no more than a group of prett}', paltry pools and
channels, squeezed in between opposing promontories.
If Sydney Harbour does not merit all the flattery that
has been bestowed upon it, there are many spots in the
short course of the Paramatta which are fit to be com-
pared with any river scenery in the world.
The appellations given to the localities of a new
An Australian Vanity Fair. 189
country in modern times frequently originate in some
circumstance or incident in the life of high officials
which would otherwise be lost to history. Thus, when
the stock ran short in Canada, Tiny and Floss, the
favourite lapdogs of a Governor-General's wife, gave
their names to two infant townships. This, so far as is
known, is the lowest depth of frivolity from which the
supply has ever been drawn, and it contrasts forcibly
with Tasman's romantic choice of his own true love's
patronymic of Van Dicmen as the word by which his
discovery should be known to the world.
On the banks of the Paramatta a day's adventures
of an early Governor of the colony are chronicled. There
is nothing exciting or extraordinary in them, and they
are such as constantly occur in the lives of common men.
The Governor had quarrelled with his wife — a foolish act
in a colony where female society was not too plentiful.
He left her in a huff at the town of Paramatta, and
went to Sydney. Each disputant was in the right ; and
as, under these circumstances, neither would make over-
tures to the other, judicious friends arranged for a recon-
ciliation half-way. The village of Concord and Kissing
Point indicate the spot where the tiff was made up, while
Breakfast Point and Dinner Creek record the less ro-
mantic incidents of the auspicious occasion. With this
historic case before its eyes, the Legislature of the colony
has latcl}' passed an Act which makes divorce more easy
in New South Wales than in any other part of the
British Empire.
It is as difficult for a modern traveller to tear himself
away from Sidney in September as it was for Uh'sses
to leave Circe's Isle of Aeaea. Eiven when there is an
opportunit)- of visiting the Hawkesbury — a river which
is said to combine all the most beautiful features of the
Mississippi, the Rhine, the W }'c, and other famous
1 90 The Modern Odyssey.
streams — the kindness and hospitality of the people of
Sydney constantly cause the excursion to be postponed
from day to day until the opportunity is lost. The only
consolation available is that of the fox. Perhaps, as in
the case of "our beautiful harbour," the beauty of the
Hawkesbury may have been slightly exaggerated ; per-
haps the rival of all the renowned rivers of Europe
and America may have unduly englamoured the Aus-
tralian eye.
If some excuse may be found for the modern
Ulysses who is induced by the Circean attractions of the
Australian Vanity Fair to abandon his visit to the
Hawkesbury, it is only on condition that he makes a
stern resolution and registers a vow that nothing what-
ever shall keep him away from the Blue Mountains —
neither a lawn-tennis party at Admiralty House, nor a
picnic down Middle Harbour, nor even the prospect of a
ball at Darling Point and of a moonlight wander in the
gardens with the beautiful A Z , what time
that
" Heaven and earth
On some calm night are far too fair for mirth."
If the rest of Australia were a wilderness, the Blue
Mountains of New South Wales would be sufficient to
allure a traveller from the most distant region of the
globe. Yet even in Great Britain there are hills that
would look down upon Mount Victoria and its fellows.
The peculiar charm of the Australian range does not
depend upon its elevation above the plain. There are
no soaring, snow-clad peaks hidden in the clouds ; no
deserted heights bare of vegetation ; no crags and preci-
pices rising on the flank of a glacier. A landscape
painter could make nothing of them. The Blue Moun-
tains do not give much opportunity for feats of agility :
Ay Australian Va.v/tv Fair. 191
an Alpine climber, and even a member of the Scotch
Mountaineering Club, would despise them.
Yet, for all that, they are the most fascinating moun-
tains in the world. It is easy to point out their defects
in those particulars which commonly give beauty to
mountain scenery, and it is difficult to define exactly
wherein their matchless charm consists. It may be the
impression which they leave upon the mind rather than
upon the eyes. It is subjective rather than objective.
There is no extraordinary natural beauty to delight the
sense of sight ; but the poetic, pathetic, melancholy love-
liness of the scene enters the heart, and there abides.
The very monotony of the prospect is weird and allur-
ing. A forest of gum-trees covers the range, which is
intersected by deep valleys filled with an exquisite blue
haze, so fine in its tissues that it offers the slightest
possible obstruction to the rays of light ; and this deli-
cate hue of violet-grey, to which the Blue Mountains owe
their name and their renown, is, next to the tint of a
wave-crest on the Atlantic pierced b}' the beams of the
setting sun, the most beautiful colour in Nature.
A belt of alluvial land about forty miles in breadth
intervenes between the coast and the Blue iNIountains,
which long formed an insuperable obstacle to the explo-
ration of the interior of the country. Now, however, the
Great Western Railway has not only surmounted it, but
has penetrated the continent to the banks of the Murray
— a distance of more than five hundred miles in a direct
line from S\-dney. The train traverses the level ground
at an easy speed, and at Penrith crosses the River
Nepean, which takes in its lower reaches the name of
Hawkesbur}-; for rivers are scarce in Australia, and their
number has been fictitiously increased by the simple
device of giving different names to diftcrent sections of
the same stream.
192 The Modern Odyssey.
At Emu Plains, from which the emu has long since
been expelled by the settler, the line reaches the zigzag
by which the ascent is effected, and, as the train mounts
from point to point, the plain is seen unrolling itself
towards the ocean. The green fields bordering the calm
and luminous Nepean, the villages and towns scattered
over the champaign, the homesteads and farms under
the hillside, appear as in a map; and when the train,
often swinging to and fro like a shuttle in a loom,
attains a level where the mountain-side becomes less
steep, and allows the line to be carried directly towards
the table-land, the view over the plain extends to the
Pacific, faintly visible in the horizon ; and if there were
no other means of obtaining a glimpse of the sunny,
fertile land bordered by the ocean, the toil of climbing
the mountain-side on foot would be amply repaid by the
lovely scene which the gaps in the dark woods on the
crest reveal.
The Blue Mountains are a plateau rising abruptly
from the coastal plain to an average height of about
three thousand feet. None of the peaks are very much
elevated above the platform, which has the appearance
of a mountain range with the summits reduced to a
nearly uniform level. But Nature, when she removed
the excrescences, was careful not to fill up the de-
pressions with them. The most remarkable feature of
the range is the deep basins and hollows which have
been scooped out of it. These can scarcely be called
valleys, for there are few instances of a gently sloping
bank leading down from the heights into the depths ;
they are rather troughs and quarries, such as a nation
(jf giants might have excavated in a hundred centuries.
l*2vcry hollow is filled with the magical blue vapour
which modifies the hue of each feature in the landscajjc,
and which, though distinctly tinged with colour, is never-
A a; Australian Vanity Fair. 193
theless so translucent that distant objects can be clearly
seen through it. The soft, transparent haze comes up
to the edges of the precipice, and approaches so close to
the brim that it seems as if it could be ladled like water
out of the bowls. Many of the valleys have never yet
been profaned by the foot of man, and only the cockatoo
and the wallaby know their recesses.
Gum forests cover high ground and depression alike
with a mantle of sombre green foliage, and bare grey
trunks and dead trees here and there heighten the
weird effect of the scene. Crags, cliffs, and precipices
break suddenly into the plateau, and fence round the
basins overflowing with the ethereal haze. Vistas of
enclosed depressions, many miles in width, and carpeted
with untrodden woods, appear from every eminence, and
so great is the height from which they are viewed that
the little hillocks at the bottom are hardly discernible.
Pinnacles and towers of detached rock spring up from
below, and terraces and platforms overhang abysses so
deep and narrow that the sunlight never falls into them.
The Blue Mountains remain almost in their primeval
state, although a railway traverses them, and although
a few small towns have sprung up beside it. A few
spots — as, for example, the Jcnolan Cave, and a vast
chasm called " Govett's Leap," from an uncertain legend
— are much frequented, but by far the larger portion of
the district has never been stared at by the prying eyes
of the vulgar.
Katoomba, the little town in the woods hard by the
Lcura Falls, stands so high that the plain is visible
beyond the forest foreground, and sometimes even the
light of Sydney South Head can be seen sparkling
faintly in the distance. The road to the Weatherboard
or Wentworth Falls passes for a mile or two through the
bush, and is lined with the ferns and the white-flowering
N
194 The Modern Odyssey.
shrubs which nestle under the gums, when it suddenly
terminates at the edge of a profound valley fenced in by
escarped rocks. At the head of the valley lies a narrow
but very deep excavation, into which a little stream falls.
After the slender rivulet has toppled over the brink, it
soon loses its cohesion, and is dispersed into spray long
before it reaches the bottom, twelve hundred feet below.
A pebble can be dropped from the edge on to the
forest in the abyss, but the highest trees attain scarcely
to one-tenth of the height of the precipice at the base
of which they stand ; and so thoroughly has the valley
been fortified by nature that, although a stone tossed
over the brink will be at its journey's end in a few
seconds, a circuit of no less than sixteen miles must
be compassed before the spot whereon it fell can be
reached on foot.
Another precipice, with a rugged face rising out of
the floor, forms the opposite wall of the excavation,
and beyond the gap hewn in the encircling cliffs is
the main valley, thickly covered with forest. In the
early morning the vast hollow is filled with snowy
clouds, which, as the sun attains its power, are lifted
out of the basin, and float away with the breeze, leaving
behind them the violet haze. Deep-green and blue is
the prevailing colour of the nearer objects, while the
images of the more distant become gradually paler
and paler as they recede into the backgrounci. The
shadows of the hills and of the passing clouds throw
darker patches upon the floors of the basins ; the sun-
light brings out the purple and grey bloom of the gum
leaves, and every delicate shade of blue, violet, and
green is there.
CHAPTER XIII.
AUSTRALIAN DEMOCRACY AT WORK AND AT PLAY.
I.— At Work.
More than thirty years have elapsed since the founda-
tion-stone of the Victorian Houses of Parhament was
laid, yet the scaffolding is still erect, and it is likely
to remain in position until the end of the century.
For some reason, which may possibly be an instinctive
feeling that parliamentary institutions are becoming
effete, Victoria has shown a strange reluctance to com-
plete the edifice. A similar idea seems to prevail in
New South Wales. In Macquarrie Street, Sydne}-,
stands a building of low elevation and commonplace
appearance, which was built for a hospital, but which
is now occupied by the Legislative Chambers of the
colony. The estimation in which the elective branch
of the Legislature — the Legislative Assembly — is held
by the general public was lately shown by the groan of
dismay uttered by the leading Sydney journal at the
prospect of an increase in the members of it under
the operation of the "India-Rubber" clauses of the
Electoral Act, which provide for additional representa-
tives in proportion to the increase of the population.
P^ven in an Australian Legislature each member
salutes the Speaker on entering the House, but the
gesture admits of infinite variet}'. One member bows
profoundly; another is content with a slight inclination
N 2
196 The Modern Odyssey.
or off-hand nod, and this is, in many cases, the extent
of the courtesy extended to the Chair. The authority of
the Speaker is rudely defied. A newly elected occupant
of the Chair is greeted by a member who disputes his
ruling with the remark that his predecessor did know
something about the rules of parliamentary procedure ;
and he may be doomed to regulate a debate upon his
own conduct, in which he is compared to a gorilla,
and which occupies no less than thirty-seven pages of
double columns in the official report. When such in-
vectives are hurled at the Chair, the incident of one
member taunting another with having once cheated a
barmaid out of threepence, or styling a former Premier
an old counterfeit and a bandy-legged schemer, hardly
attracts attention.
Papers laid upon the table, and relating to a subject
under discussion, are seized by a member, who refuses
to surrender them. The Estimates beco.me a scramble
for money. Each member is desirous of obtaining a
grant to be spent in his constituency. He is not par-
ticular about the nature of the gift. It may be a bridge
or it may be a bridewell. Political influence, intensified
by log-rolling, obtained for one small town the boon
of a gaol, erected at a cost to the colony of ^50,000,
as though
" To show by one satiric touch
No people needed it so much."
The Member for that district must have had a high
opinion of his supporters, but they accepted the equivocal
favour with satisfaction. Neither do the constituencies
appear to hold their deputies in very high honour. The
latter are often regarded as general agents, resident in
the colonial capital in order to attend to the various
wants of the district, not only in political matters, but
Australian Democracy at Work. 197
also in the trivial afiairs of everyday life. A constituent
will commission a member to choose a buggy for himself,
or a bonnet for his wife.
As the representative is the sieve through which good
things are strained before they can reach the represented,
it is natural that a portion should remain in his hands.
The M.L.A. stands out for h.\s poiirboire as resolutely as
any Paris cabman. The Melbourne legislators have
voted themselves free passes for life over the railways
after seven years' service in the House. The Sydney
legislators are agitating for franks for their electoral cor-
respondence. An English Member of Parliament would
say that any privilege likely to encourage a constituent's
cacoetlies scribendi is greatly to be deprecated, and that,
on the contrary, it would be better to adopt some means
of stanching the flow of letters with which a public man
is deluged.
A whole day is wasted in discussing the question
whether it is permissible for a Member to call a Judge
an Old Woman. Now this, no doubt, raises a very deli-
cate question. Many old women are estimable, sensible,
clear-headed, and unprejudiced — in fact, possess the good
qualities which should distinguish the wearer of the
ermine. Why should it, therefore, be considered a term
of disparagement when applied to a judge? and would it
be right to throw a slur upon the sex by declaring that
the holder of a judicial office is libelled by comparison
with a presumably respectable female advanced in years?
The animus of the Member was, however, manifest, and
the Speaker was compelled to decide that the expression
was disorderly ; but his ruling did not give satisfaction,
and such a furious onslaught was made upon him that
he was compelled to withdraw it, with the plea that he
had overlooked the circumstance that the name of the
judge in question was before the House in a Bill
198 The Modern Odyssey.
constituting a new office, and that, therefore, the rule
that the conduct of a judge could only be impugned
by a formal motion for an address to the Crown praying
for his removal did not apply.
It was to be expected that the clumsy weapon of all-
night sittings used in the British House of Commons
would be seized with alacrity by the Australian obstruc-
tives. On one occasion, during a recent session, the
Legislative Assembly of Victoria met at the usual hour,
and continued to sit during the night until after two
o'clock on the following afternoon. All went smoothly
up to midnight, when a difference of opinion between the
Premier and a member of the Opposition as to whether
certain estimates involved matters of contention ushered
in the trouble. The Ministers were denounced as power-
less shams, who, so long as they could get through with
their estimates, cared little for the fate of their Bills. The
fine old bludgeon of tic quoqiie was quickly brandished by
the Premier, who retorted that, if any party was power-
less, it was the Opposition, which numbered but eight in-
dividuals. The gauntlet was thrown down, and the
tournament began. An adjournment for supper was
made at 2 a.m., and the repast and the respite invigor-
ated the combatants for a renewal of hostilities. No pre-
tence was made to confine the discussion to the estimates
in question, and the debate hinged upon personal remin-
iscences hurled from one side to another. The Minister
referred to a pathetic incident in the political career of
his opponent, who had once been moved to tears, and
said with exultation, " I never cried on the floor of the
House, anyway ! "
A newspaper report thus describes the incident : —
" He moved slowly up and down the Treasury licnch,
with hands deep in his pockets, his head well tossed
back, and, encouraged by the cheers of his supporters,
Australian/ Democracy at Work'. icg
threw red-hot shot into the enemy's ship," with the
result that those supporters were soon afterwards styled
a disreputable crew. The remark had to be withdrawn,
although " other remarks, which cannot be published,
were allowed to pass." At this moment some doubt as
to the dignity of the proceedings seems to have arisen in
the mind of a Member, and at his instance the Strangers'
Galleries were closed for a short time.
The House at 5 a.m., though exhausted, was quite good-
humoured. On the front Opposition Bench was stretched
the prone form of an obstructive sleeping profoundly, with
openmouth,and drcaming,possibly,of thedays of his inno-
cent childhood. In the corner another figure was huddled
up, with knees bent, hands clenched under the chin, and
the uppermost cheek surmounted by a tall hat, which a
sudden draught dislodged and the sleeper awoke with a
start. It was some time before he could realise his posi-
tion ; but he soon re-composed himself, using a pocket-
handkerchief as a nightcap and a newspaper as a rug.
The ludicrous attitude of a Minister sitting bolt upright
in his place, and nodding so violently that every moment
Members expected to see his head roll off on to the floor,
attracted so much attention that the debate was inter-
rupted while some one went to the rescue.
Soon after daylight appeared it was discovered that
the obstructives numbered but seven. One unit had
basely deserted his comrades, and had taken the earl}-
train to Ballarat. Breakfast was served at 7 a.m., and
the windows were opened. As fresh members entered
they were greeted with jeers, and inquiries whether thc}'
or the Go\'ernmcnt had paid for the cabs which had
brought them up to thc House. The leader of the Oppo-
sition made a discursive speech denouncing a stupendous
piece of jobbery which he professed to have discovered
in the Department of Mines ; but the effect of his
20O The Modern Odyssey.
rhetoric was marred by the snores of a supporter of
the Government, who, with great want of tact, had fallen
asleep on an Opposition bench. Luncheon was the next
episode in the proceedings, which soon afterwards ter-
minated. A compromise was arranged, by which the
Government obtained almost all for which they had origin-
ally contended. By this time Members were in a better
frame of mind. General apologies were tendered and
accepted all round with great earnestness ; and the
House, having passed a vote of thanks to the occupant
of the Chair, adjourned after a sitting of more than
twenty hours.
The Legislature of Victoria, following the example of
the British House of Commons on Derby Day, adjourns
for the Melbourne Cup, and with such an example it
is unreasonable to blame it ; the Legislature of Tas-
mania goes further, and adjourns for the Masonic Ball
at Hobart.
IL—At Play.
In the Parliament Houses at Melbourne and at
Sydney the Australian Democracy may be seen at work ;
on Flemington Racecourse, near Melbourne, it may be
watched at play, and showing by its behaviour which
occupation is more to its taste. There is probably no
country in the world which offers to its inhabitants so
many opportunities of amusing themselves as an Austra-
lian colony. The population of Victoria slightly exceeds
a million, spread over an area equal to England, Scot-
land, and Wales, and there are more than three hundred
race-meetings every year, of which nearly one- fifth are
held in the immediate neighbourhood of the capital.
The interest in cricket is rapidly declining, and racing has
become the popular pastime of Australia. The people
have adopted what was once styled " the sport of kings."
Australian Democracy at Play. 201
When a new township is laid out, the proposed race-
course is the chief feature in the plan. Though there
is hardly a day without a race-meeting, fresh fixtures
are being constantly added to the calendar. Many of the
meetings are, no doubt, rough-and-ready scrambles at
out-of-the-way stations up country, but the majority
are properly organised, as in England, and they are
held on racecourses which are second to none in the
old country.
The chief racing clubs are recognised by special Acts
of the Colonial Legislatures, and have legal sanction for
their proceedings. This privilege has not been abused.
The absence of rowdyism, which usually infests an Eng-
lish racecourse, is remarkable. The spectacle of a
hundred thousand Anglo-Saxons enjoying themselves
in a quiet and orderly manner can be seen only in Aus-
tralia, where Democracy at Play gives a more favourable
impression of the country than Democracy at Work.
The Spring Meeting of the Victorian Racing Club
is held towards the beginning of November on the
racecourse at Flemington, less than three miles from
the heart of the city of Melbourne. It lasts a week,
and is the sporting carnival of Australasia, reaching
its climax in the race for the Melbourne Cup. The
vast majority of the population is either directly or in-
directly interested in one or more of the five thousand
racehorses of Australasia, and most of them either
possess or make for themselves excuses for visiting
Melbourne during the Cup week. Squatters from the
banks of the Murray or the Murrumbidgee find that
particular business, such as the necessity for examining
some new device for the extirpation of rabbits, calls
them to the colonial capital at the end of October ;
architects and engineers come to inspect the latest
buildings and factories ; miners from the hills where the
202 The Modern Odyssey.
wild gold grows come to buy new crushing machinery;
while ladies from up-country and the small towns dis-
cover that they can no longer postpone a visit to a
dentist or a dressmaker. It has likewise been noticed
that the flagship of the Australian squadron is always
found to be in such a condition in the spring that she
must be docked at Williamstown during the meeting.'
All roads in Europe lead to Rome ; all roads in
Australia lead to Flemington. To not a few native
Australians the Melbourne Spring Meeting affords the
only opportunity they have of keeping themselves in
touch with the civilised world, and of relieving the
monotony of a lonely life in the bush ; and it therefore
may be regarded not only as a means of amusement,
but also as possessed of humanising influences. Its
success is greatly due to this cause. It is more than
a mere Carnival ; it is a Congress, a Diet of Anti-
podean civilisation.
Not less than ;i^i 50,000 were expended in reclaiming
a marshy tract of ground near the Salt Water Creek,
and in adapting it to the purposes of a racecourse,
with the result that Flemington is as nearly perfect
as the intelligent use of money can make it. A branch
line of railway runs to a station immediately in rear of
the Grand Stand ; and the exits from the platforms to the
stands, the paddocks, and the hill are so arranged that,
even when a train is arriving almost every minute, there
is little crowding or hustling, though nearly fifty thousand
people are deposited on the course within three hours.
The journey from the Spencer Street terminus in
Melbourne occupies only a few minutes, and the pas-
sengers are discharged upon the finest racecourse in tlic
world. On one side a hill rises above the course, of a
sufficient height to overlook the Grand Stand. Two
intcrscctin<r o\als lie on the ground — one for fiat races.
Australian Democracy at Play. 203
the other for steeple-chases. A terrace runs along the
foot of the Grand Stand, and below it a long green lawn
skirts the boundary fence of the course. At one end of
the lawn are the saddling paddocks, the betting ring,
and the press and racing offices ; and the other end is
gay with flower-beds. The carriage park is at the
back of that portion of the lawn which overlaps the
Grand Stand, and conveniently adjoins the well-designed
luncheon loggias, and close at hand is the Maribyrnong
Stand, whither those who cannot find room on crowded
days in the Grand Stand betake themselves. In the
stands, on the hill, and on the flat are massed together
on Cup Day no less than one-sixth of the total popula-
tion of the colony. If the attendance on Epsom Downs
were in the same proportion, five millions of people
would be present on Derby Day.
On Cup Day the smooth, round hillock at the back
of the Grand Stand is black with the forms of thirty
thousand persons clustering upon it, like a swarm of
bees upon the limb of a tree. The flat is even more
densely thronged with a surging, though orderly, mass
of humanity, as well-behaved as a flock of sheep in an
up-country station, and requiring very few shepherds
in blue tunics and helmets. But the most attractive
part of Flemington is naturally the Grand Stand and
the lawn, where the charming Australian women are
flitting to and fro or sauntering on the sward. As a
rule, they dress well, though without ostentation. Xo
public gathering in England shows a higher general
average of good taste.
Cup Day is a public holiday throughout the colony
of Victoria. All the shops in Melbourne are closed,
and even some of the schools. As to the appearance of
the city during the early hours of the afternoon no one
can speak with accurac}-, for no one has ever remained
204 The Modern Odyssey.
in it while the struggle for the Cup is going on at
Flemington. The city is supposed to wear a Pompeiian
aspect, and weird echoes are believed to resound in the
deserted streets as the ghosts of departed aborigines
revisit their former haunts.
The military band on the lawn plays the National
Anthem as the coach from Government House drives
up, and deposits in the State Box most of the Aus-
tralasian Governors, attended by their aides-de-camp
and private secretaries, and the last touch of adornment
is given to Flemington. A hurdle race over three
miles, and the Railway Handicap, a six-furlong spin,
fill up the interval before luncheon. The pleasantest
part of a day's racing is the luncheon hour. Those
who have lost their money are convinced that they
will recover it in the afternoon ; those who have won
are serenely content and fear no ill-luck. A Flemington
luncheon is not an uncomfortable scramble for food, but
an orderly repast under the shelter of a roof, followed
by a stroll among the flowers on the lawn or a visit to
the Birdcage. A race for two-year-olds with four entries
attracts little attention, and is over before half the people
are aware of the start.
The saddling bell rings for the Melbourne Cup, and
the stands are soon filled. The lawn is forsaken, and not
a gap is visible in the tiers of seats. A sudden hush
falls upon the multitude as soon as the horses are seen
to be in motion. The first minute of the Cup race is
the stillest time of the day. A crowd of one hundred
and fifty thousand people is standing motionless and
silent. The effect is unearthly. It seems as if they were
bewitched. Then a whisper is heard, and a low murmur,
which bursts out into a wild roar when the horses turn
the corner for the run in. The black acres of human
beings on the flat and on the knoll flash white in an
Australian Democracy at Play. 205
instant, as all faces are turned towards the winning-
post. A few seconds of breathless excitement, and the
Melbourne Cup is lost and won. The winning horse is
led through the crowd on the lawn, and presented like a
knight of old to the Queen of Beauty in the Govern-
ment House box ; and the chief event of the Australian
Carnival is over.
The excellent bearing and demeanour of the vast
Flemington crowds seems astonishing to those who
have seen a British mob taking its pleasure. Scarcely
a drunken man can be found, although the demand for
beer is so great that the liquor is laid on to all the
refreshment-bars through pipes from a central reservoir,
and none of the demoralisation which so often attends
race-meetings at home is apparent. The Australians
amuse themselves in a sensible and decent manner.
The crowd which assembles to witness the chief sport-
ing event in the Southern Hemisphere is not only the
largest, but also the best behaved, in the Anglo-Saxon
world.
Several Australian innovations might usefully be
adopted on English racecourses. The number of each
horse is shown on a label attached to the saddle, render-
ing identification a more easy matter than when the
colours worn by the jockey, which are often indistinct,
are the only guide. A dial is placed opposite the judge's
box, and the index hand is released by electricity from
the starting-point, and stopped at the conclusion of the
race, so that the exact duration of it is shown to the
crowd. In all hurdle races an ambulance is sent round
the course.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE BARRIER REEF AND MALAY ARCHIPELAGO.
November' i^th. — The burning Australian summer is
at hand, the Melbourne Cup has been lost and won, and
most of the strangers who a fortnight ago were saun-
tering on Flemington Lawn are now making tracks to
other parts of the world. Three globe-trotters and a
Madras Staff Corps subaltern, who had been wounded
in the leg in Burmah and in the heart at Melbourne,
took passages in the Taiyiian for China. The ship was
advertised to leave Miller's Point this morning at lO a.m.,
but it was past 1 1 before the ropes were cast off from
the wharf Meanwhile the tide had fallen, and though
the engines were driven full speed ahead for twenty
minutes, the steamer remained fast in the mud. Even
inanimate things feel reluctant to leave the beautiful
harbour of Sydney. The captain conferred with the
company's agent, and it was announced that the depar-
ture must be postponed until late in the afternoon. Six
hours more in Sydney! It was a delightful surprise,
and joyfully we returned to the Club for luncheon, and
lingered once more, but this time with farewell foot-
steps, in the streets of the charming capital of New South
Wales.
Shortly before sunset we were steaming down the
harbour. It was a lovely evening, and every spot re-
called some delightful hours. \Vc dipped our ensign to
The Barrier Reef. 207
H.M.S. Calliope — the happy ship which has just arrived
on transfer from the Chinese station to the AustraHan —
and as the Taiyiian was passing the next promontory,
perhaps the loveliest eyes and the sweetest face in all
Australia were turned towards her from a certain house
on Darling Point. Double Bay, Rose Bay, Neutral Bay,
and Manley Beach looked enchanting in the slanting
sunlight, and each contributed to the stock of pleasant
memories. Suddenly, as we steamed through the Heads,
all was changed. The solitary Pacific lay on one side,
and the overlapping Heads on the other shutout Sydney
and the crowded harbour from sight. "The contrast of
their grandeur and loneliness with the busy scene we
had just quitted was startling. The only building
visible was the lighthouse. The brown, rugged cliffs
towered over the ship, and not a sail broke the long line
of the horizon. It was difficult to realise that Sydney —
the Vanity Fair of Australia — was only a few miles
away.
November \6tJi. — The Taiyiian seems to be a really
comfortable ship. The officers are gentlemen, the cabins
are large and clean, and each of the half-dozen passengers
has one to himself. An Oriental air pervades the vessel.
There are punkahs in the saloon, luncheon is called
tiffin, the boats are numbered in Chinese characters, and
all the crew and stewards are Chinamen. Even a por-
tion of the cargo consists of the bones of dead Chinamen
returning to be buried in the Celestial Empire.
The Chinese have all the good qualities which servants
should have, save one — honesty. They are attentive
without being officious, and anticipate ones wishes in-
stinctively ; they are willing, clean, docile, silent, and in-
telligent. On a hot day it is a refreshing sight to see the
Chinese stewards in their white cotton shirts and
pyjamas. The first officer says that, though they work
2o8 The Modern Odyssey.
hard all day, they sit up at night trying to learn English
out of spelling-books. Though the circumlocutions of a
European language are at present beyond their compre-
hension, they readily understand simple expressions and
skeleton phrases such as "John, bring book," " Boy, go
topside," " Too much plate, too little chow,"
November lyth. — It was hard, at first, to explain why
there was a larger proportion of cockroaches to the square
inch in the second cabin from the saloon on the starboard
side than in other parts of the ship ; but the occupant
of that cabin evidently hit the right nail on the head
when he said that the meetings of the Taiyuau Cockroach
Club were no doubt held in it. The T.C.C. is a very
flourishing institution, the number of members is large,
and every social meeting is fully attended.
A quiet, uneventful day. The sea is very calm, and
a slight breeze wafts the aromatic scent of the burning
gum-trees from the bush fires on the hills near the shore.
An explorer has discovered a very comfortable scat on
the foremast ; it is cool and airy, and when the ship
is rolling it has all the advantages of a rocking-chair.
Not a breath of wind is lost on a hot day ; it is quite
out of reach of the cockroaches ; and should any sea-
serpent show his bashful face, it gives the best position
from which to observe his coy motions. From the
height the Taiyuau appears to the climber to have
dwindled in size, and it seems to him that he is no
longer on board, but watching her, as a sea-bird watches
her, as she forges her way through the waters.
November iSih. — We entered Moreton Bay late last
night, and went up to the mouth of the river to take in the
I5risbane cargo and passengers, who, owing to our dcla)-
in leaving Sydney, had been waiting in the tender for
fully twelve hours — long after their stock of provisions
had run short. The anchor was weighed at daybreak,
The Barrier Reef. 209
and we steamed away to the north along the Queens-
land coast. Between the Blackall Mountains and the
shore appeared curious conical hills and mounds, which,
from the effect of the sun glistening on their granite
sides, are called the " Glass-houses." A long, low island,
having patches of white sand running up in places be-
tween the woods, was abreast in the forenoon, and it
was late at night before the lighthouse on the northern
extremity had passed out of sight astern. When evening
came the lightning was playing over the distant hills on
the mainland, and the form of many a shadowy island
loomed through the darkness.
November igth. — Out of sight of land until the after-
noon. We are steaming midway between the mainland
of Australia and the Great Barrier Reef, which serves as
a breakwater to Queensland. Late in the evening we
passed through a cluster of islands. The outline of the
hills on the mainland was delineated by a hundred bush
fires, and a bank of smoke brooded over the sea.
November 20th. — We entered the Tropics to-day, and
the Taiyuan is decked like a bride in white apparel.
Wherever the almost vertical sun can beat down, a
snowy awning is spread. Nothing can be more exqui-
site than this beautiful Queensland shore. It is as
lovely as Italy. The air is soft and warm, but not too
hot ; the sky is clear, and in this calm belt under the
shelter of the Reef the turquoise sea has hardly a ripple
upon it. There is infinite variety in the scenery : faint
purple profiles of distant ranges, rugged mountains
nearer at hand, table-lands, detached hills, sandy downs,
wooded slopes, and rocky cliffs pass by in succession. A
little speck appears upon the horizon many leagues
ahead, and, as the ship approaches, a beautiful promon-
tory or island rises out of the ocean — at first of a pale
purple colour, but soon assuming some fantastic shape
O
210 The Modern Odyssey.
and more vivid hues as it advances into the foreground ;
then fading away into a form softened by a faint opal
haze.
Only in the wake of the ship, where the water is dis-
turbed by the churning of the screw, is the satin sheen
that lies upon its surface at all ruffled, and as we steam
through the sounds and straits the shore is so near that
we can see the cockatoos perching in the trees and flying
down to the water's edge. The sun shines in the midst
of a pale-blue sky, and the hot rays fall upon the moun-
tain sides in the west, and mellow all that is far away
into a delicate colouring of pale lilac, against which the
nearer and more brilliantly coloured objects stand out in
relief above the surface of the calm inlets of the Pacific.
It is this graduation of the colouring that is so charm-
ing to the eye. Every bright hue is tempered and
toned as it recedes from view. The centre of the
picture is bold and striking ; the sides and the dis-
tance are refined into purple and blue tints of ethereal
loveliness. A perfect repose, which the puny efforts
of the little waves or of the white sea-birds cannc.t
disturb, reigns everywhere on the serene shore. Now
and then a cloud is seen forming upon the hill-tops
or crossing the sky, and throwing a dark blue patch upon
the water or a rich brown patch upon the sides of the
islands.
November 2\st. — We anchored during the night near
Townsville to take in some cargo, but no one went ashore,
and soon after breakfast we steamed out of the bay.
Many miles of the coast-line are covered with a rich
green belt of mangroves, separated from the water by
a narrow streak of gleaming sand. How delightful it
would be to land upon that silent shore and climb those
brown hills covered with green patches of shrubs and
gum-trees, or to explore some of those little islands
The Barrier Reef. 2 1 1
whose only inhabitants arc the cockatoos ! It is impos-
sible to walk for ever up and down a deck, and those
alluring strands and slopes and woods, which pass by
almost within a stone's throw, make the enforced idleness
of a ship all the more irksome. When there are but a
^Q\\ planks to tramp upon, it is tantalising to see beauti-
ful volcanic islets and cool shade under trees ; and to play
chess and draughts when they are so near and yet so far
is a very sad pastime !
November 22nd. — It is useless to try to catch sharks
unless the hook is baited with a Chinaman. Pork is no
good at all. When the ship was lying at anchor off Cooks-
town this morning a line was thrown over the counter, and
a loaded Winchester rifle was kept in readiness to despatch
the prey when he rose to the surface. The attempt was
unsuccessful, and before we could come to terms with a
Chinaman the ship was under weigh.
Hitherto the navigation of the coast has not been so
dangerous as to render it necessary to anchor at night.
The course, though intricate, has been mainly through
channels unobstructed by reefs and sunken rocks, and
fairly well lighted ; but for the rest of the voyage to
Thursday Island we shall have to anchor every evening
and resume the journey at dawn. This evening we
anchored in ten fathoms a few miles from Hewitt's
Island, which the \-oung moon made faintly visible. It
was a beautiful night, and when the soft breeze had
been appreciatively inhaled, and the flakes of moonlight
upon the almost motionless ocean sufficiently admired,
it was natural to look around for something to kill.
From nine o'clock until midnight the fishing lines were
hanging over the counter ; and while the Chinamen in the
forecastle were catching a dozen leather-fish, the passen-
gers on the taffrail had no luck at all, though a sharkcarried
away half the bait and nibbled at the h(juk until patience
O 2
212 The Modern Odyssey.
was exhausted. Sometimes his white body could be
seen gleaming in the moonlight as he turned over, but
he seemed to dislike the idea of ending his life on the
poop of the Taiynan, and amused himself and provoked
his would-be captors by hovering around the bait and
rubbing his body against the line as a cat does against
the leg of a table.
November 2yd. — We passed close to a lightship in
the forenoon, and dropped overboard a box full of old
newspapers and novels, which her boat picked up, and
which will, we hope, relieve the monotony of existence
on board for a few days until another passing vessel
takes compassion upon her.
Wind aft, and as it was travelling about the same
rate as the Taiynan it was ineffective to temper the heat,
and the punkahs had to be kept going. The character
of the scenery has changed. Low banks and coral reefs
have taken the place of rocky islands and pinnacles. Some
of the banks are quite bare and only a few inches above
the surface of the water, and but for the beacons which are
placed on most of them they would be very dangerous
to navigation. Some day a bird will drop a seed upon
them, and in a few years they will be covered with vege-
tation. Those which are already covered with man-
groves look like beds of rich green moss, and in the
setting of the sapphire sea they are perfectly lovely.
After dinner the anchor was let go off Night Island,
and again we fished for shark without success.
November 25///. — Nothing worthy of record occurred
yesterday. In the evening we anchored off Turtle Island,
and weighed at dawn this morning. Everyone was on deck
at 5.30 a.m., when we steamed through Albany Passage,
a narrow sound separating the mainland of Cape York
Peninsula from a little island near the northern extremity
of Queensland. On the low point at the southern
The Barrier Reef. 213
entrance is what seems at first to be a village of red
huts, but is in reality a collection of ant-hillocks. The
shores of the sound are prettily wooded with gums and
scrub pines, and a pearl-fishing station surrounded by
trees lies upon a sandy bay formed by the widening of
the passage. Soon we were entering Torres Straits,
which divide Australia from Asia, and the shallowness
of the water and the archipelago which obstructs the
passage show that at some distant period the continents
must have been joined.
We took a pilot on board off" the lighthouse, and
threaded our way between the reefs past Tuesday
Island and Wednesday Island, and made fast to the hulk
off" Thursday Island, with Friday Island a short distance
on the starboard bow. The islands are green, and do
not wear the parched, thirsty look of the Tropics, A
small town has been built on Thursday Island, which is of
some importance as a coaling station for steamers on the
voyage between Asiatic and Australian ports. Upon the
deck of the hulk — formerly one of Green's finest ships —
stood a motley gang of all nationalities. Pearl-divers
from Ceylon, Australian natives, Mahomedans, China-
men and Lascars, British sailors, and gold-diggers on
their way to Normanton, were jostling each other on the
narrow space. A Singhalese boarded the TrJyuan, and
asked more than quadruple the price which he eventually
accepted with a grin of satisfaction for his pearls. It is
said that a purchaser can always measure the extent to
which he has been cheated by the breadth of the pearl
merchant's grin when he hands over the gems. A coast-
ing steamer arrived and an emigrant ship from London,
and for a short time Thursday Island was full of life.
While the Taiyiiaii was discharging her cargo a shark
was captured, and early in the afternoon she steamed
down the channel, turned her head to the west, and at
214 '^^p- Modern Odyssey.
sunset the porph}Ty cliffs of Northern Queensland had
faded away astern, and the light on the Proudfoot Shoal
was twinkling on the starboard beam.
In the middle watch a dreadful report — which, alas !
proved to be well founded — ran through the ship. The
piston of the ice-machine had broken, and we are within
1 1 " of the Equator, with the wind astern. At a time
when an ocean of Whiskey and Apollinaris, dotted over
with icebergs, would be insufficient to slake our thirst,
the fickle refrigerator has failed us !
November 26tli.- — No land in sight as we are crossing
the Gulf of Carpentaria, which is 300 miles wide. Many
kind inquiries were made after the state of the ice
machine, but it cannot be repaired until we reach Port
Darwin to-morrow. Meanwhile the thermometer, even
at night, never falls below 82", and during the day the
heat is so intense that we think twice before undertaking
an expedition to the poop, where, as the wind is aft, the
temperature is fractionally lower. Sleep is impossible
in the cabins and difficult on deck ; still, it is pleasant
to lie in a long chair close to the bulwarks and listen
to the plashing of the little waves along the water-
line.
November 2'^tJi. — Melville Island was abeam early in
the morning, and for the rest of the day wc were steaming
through the channel between it and the mainland. As
we approached the shore a line of low red cliffs, crowned
with green gum-trees, became visible. The most promi-
nent object of a young Australian settlement is usually
the gaol, and this is the first building sighted on ncaring
Port Darwin, the northern outlet of the colony of South
Australia. W'e anchored in the stream about a mile
from shore. Port Darwin is a quiet haven on a wide
sound, and the contemplated completion of the trans-
continental railway from Adelaide may some day make
The Barrier Reef. 215
it a very important maritime station. Tiic scenery,
though not grand, is pleasing from its simplicity. Two
wooded bluffs, at the crest of which the white roofs of
the houses are seen, rise out of the water upon red iron-
stone cliffs, and the town, which is not beautiful, is kept
in the background.
A magnificent sunset closed the day. Cloud pin-
nacles and towers, fringed with carmine and pierced with
golden rays, were built upon the western horizon, and
above was a clear blue sky streaked with long strips of
Indian-red cloud. Towards the north, where the brighter
hues were not seen, sheet lightning played behind the
cloud-banks, and soon the short twilight waned and the
moon lit up the scene. The welcome rain came down
and cooled the air — how pleasant it was to hear it
pattering upon the awning ! — and all around the lightning
was flashing upon the calm waters of the haven.
November 2gth. — .Some of the passengers went ashore
for the first time since leaving Sydney, a fortnight ago ; for
the stay of the Jaiynan in the Queensland ports at which
she called was too short to allow us to land — a disappoint-
ment to those who had never set foot in that colony.
Palmerston, the town on Port Darwin, shows what the
infancy of an Australian city is like, and from what
small and rude beginnings a Melbourne or a S}'dncy
may spring. It is a primitive settlement, and all the
houses are raised from the ground to keep out the white
ants, which, moreover, before thc\' can enter a dwelling
must negotiate a flat plate of tin inserted below the
frame, and forming an obstacle all round the wooden
supports on which the houses are perched. The walls
and roofs of corrugated iron assort ill with the rich red
soil and the brilliant flowers. The hybiscus and the
cotton plant grow wild, and pineapples are 8d, a dozen.
Lanky blacks loaf about the skeleton streets, most of
2i6 The Modern Odyssey.
which are no more than a house or two and a vista.
The railway, which is eventually to join hands across
the continent with the South Australian lines, has been
completed for a few miles into the interior.
The sacred prerogatives of red tape are upheld even
here. A few days ago, a steamer arrived from an infected
port in China, and, according to the quarantine regu-
lations of the harbour, she could not be taken alongside
the hulk to discharge her cargo. There was, however,
no rule which forbade the hulk to be taken alongside
the steamer, which accordingly was done, and the
difficulty was at an end. The letter of the law was
obeyed, the ship suffered no inconvenience, and every-
one was satisfied.
We had been cut off from newspapers for more than
a week ; and when the Northern Territory Times and
Gazette was brought on board this morning, it excited
more interest than a sixpenny journal of a single sheet ever
aroused before. Port Darwin is the port at which the
European cable enters the mainland of Australia, and
therefore Palmerston is in touch with the rest of the
world, as all the news from extra-Australian countries
passes through it. There was, however, but one startling
item of intelligence in the Northern Territory Times. A
Bill had been read a second time in the Legislative
Assembly of New South Wales to enable that colony to
discard its present name and to call itself Australia,
which is as though the House of Commons Avere to pass
a Bill enacting that Great Britain should henceforth be
known as the Kingdom of Europe. It is an impertinence
for one colony to usurp the title which belongs to all the
colonies collectively. How Melbourne must be bellowing
with indignation at Sydney's presumption ! It is almost
audible here in Port Darwin ; and the lady-like scream
which Adelaide has, no doubt, uttered, as well as the
The Malay Archipelago. 217
little squeak of protest across Bass's Straits from poor
little Tasmania, can be easily imagined !
It took all the day to discharge a few tons of cargo
from the Taiyuan, The lethargy of the Tropics has
taken possession of the people of Port Darwin. It
is a settlement of loafers — a kind of marine Sleepy
Hollow.
November 30//^— We weighed at i a.m., and steamed
down the channel in the moonlight. At noon the low
shore of Bathurst Island is sinking below the horizon,
and the Taiyuan is gliding over the calm waters of the
Arafura Sea towards the Malay Archipelago.
Farewell, Farewell, Australia ! All the pleasant days
spent in the land of the kangaroo and the gum-tree seem
to return in a delightful dream as the island slowly fades
away ; all the kindness and hospitality of the genial
people are again remembered with gratitude. Happy
the traveller whose ship bears him within coo-ce of that
sunny strand !
Farewell, Farewell, fair Cooeeland !
Deceuiber \st. — A few hours' voyage by night as one
month was passing into another, and we have entered the
Sea of Banda and the region of Asia, and are about to
plunge into the Malay Archipelago. Sermatan Island
was abeam before breakfast this morning, and in the
afternoon we passed close to Damme, a volcanic island
3,000 feet high, with smoke issuing continually from a
crater near the summit. Many other islands appeared
on the horizon, and the violet colour of the water
showed that they also were, in all probability, vol-
canic cones rising from the bed of a very deep sea.
Few yachts have ever visited these calm seas, yet no
part of the world could offer a more beautiful cruising
ground.
The waters of this lovely sea of Banda which we are
2iS The Modern Odyssey.
now crossing are almost perfectly calm, or are only-
ruffled now and then by a surface ripple not an inch in
height from trough to crest, such as might be formed
upon a Highland tarn. All around are the forms of
scattered islands and islets lying like gems betwixt the
pale blue sky and the purple ocean, and only a few
hours' sail from each other. Some are precipitous peaks
rising almost sheer out of very deep water ; others slope
gently down to the water's edge, where all kinds of shells
are found, and have their sides covered with tropical
vegetation and forests, which the sun and the clouds and
the distance change into all shades of blue, purple, and
green. In one group the nutmeg grows ; in another the
clove, a spice that was once so precious that one of the
objects of Columbus's first voyage of discovery was to
obtain it.
The air is soft and balmy, and so clear that the
islands can be seen at a distance of eighty or one hundred
miles ; and the heat during several months of the year
is not opj^ressive. A magnificent sunset, which fades
away too soon, brings the day to a close. Then the
piled clouds on the horizon are lit up with the silvery
light of the moon, and stand like a range of snowy
mountains above the water-line, and are seen again on
the surface of the sea, in which the image of the moon is
reflected with hardly a quiver. The night is unutterably
tranquil, and the only waves are those made by the
Taiyumis prow. The sea of Banda in its halcyon days
is a lovely sight, that must linger forever in the memory;
it is Nature in her greatest beauty and in sublime
tranquillity.
December ^th. — We crossed the Line yesterday at 4.30
p.m., and steamed towards Klobat on Celebes, which was
visible at least eighty miles off. The Tniyuan is not a
fast ship, and seldom much exceeds 200 knots in a day's
The Malay Archipelago. 219
run ; but in this enchanting archipelago wc do not care
how long we loiter on the summer seas of satin. We
have left the Dutch East Indies astern, and are crossing
the Celebes Sea, which separates them from the Spanish
possessions. Siao, a volcanic island having three cones,
was abeam in the forenoon ; but owing to the banks of
clouds upon the summit, it was difficult to say whether
any smoke was issuing from the craters. Klobat was
still visible at 10 a.m., though eighteen hours had passed
since we sighted it x-esterday afternoon, which says more
for the clearness of the air than for the speed of the
ship. A Danish barquentine glided by bound for the
west, but there was hardly wind enough to fill her sails.
The engines were stopped for an hour after sunset to
pack the piston-rod glands. When the ship had ceased
to move, not a breath of air was stirring, but she rolled
just perceptibly as a very slight swell came in from the
Pacific, to which the eastern arm of the Celebes Sea is
open.
The thermometer has fallen a few degrees during
the last day or two, and it is no longer necessary to
sleep on deck ; and the ice machine is again in working
order.
December ^tJi. — We have been steaming for a day
and a half across the Celebes Sea, and at noon to-day
the wooded slopes and symmetrical volcanic cones of
the Philippine Islands began to rise out of the northern
horizon. In the evening we steamed through the narrow
straits between Basilan and Mindanao.
Ever)' league of these enchanting seas reveals some
new beauty. The seafowl, hovering over drift-wood
that has come down from some Philippine forest, flew
away as the Taiyi'.an approached, and when the brief
twilight had faded away the sea was covered with float-
ing stars ; for here the phosphorescence lies shining
220 The Modern Odyssey.
continually on the surface, and does not need, as in colder
climes, to be stirred into brilliancy by waves from the
prow. The lights of the Spanish fortress of Samboan-
gan were faintly visible, and the gleam of lightning be-
low the horizon on the south was seen on the face of the
clouds. The three elements — earth, air, and water — each
contributed its own spark to illumine the path of the
Taiyuan. All day long the sea was like glass, which
sparkled here and there where a transient puff of wind
raised little waves whose sides could arrest the sunlight ;
and as we glided by the shore the fragrant scent of the
land was wafted to us.
December 6///.-^Where, and oh ! where, is the N.E.
monsoon .-' It should have been established in these lati-
tudes by this time, but there are no signs of it yet. The
sea is as calm as a mill-pond, and there is not wind
enough to drive a butterfly away from a flower. At noon
to-day the ship was found to have run no less than 229
knots ! Prodigious !
December "jth. — We have picked up the monsoon at
last. The cloud coronet on the mountain near Cape Cala-
vite showed that it was blowing, and after veering unde-
cidedly into all points of the compass, it finally settled
down into the N.E. It is very delightful to feel a real
wind blowing. The air is cooler, all the fore and aft
sails are set, the ship is dancing about merrily, the course
has been set N.W. by N.-l-N. for Hongkong, and soon
we shall be tossing about upon the China Sea. The
green sides of Luzon are indistinct in the moist haze
as we pass the entrance to the harbour of Manilla — a
Spanish colonial city noted for its cigars, its lottery, and
the corruption of its Custom House oflicials.
December \oth. — Last evening the night orders to the
officer of the watch were to keep a good look-out for junks
(a very necessary precaution, for they carry no lights, and
The Malay Archipelago. 221
Chinese sailors have a superstition that it is lucky to
cross the bows of an approaching steamer), and the
coast of China was visible at daybreak this morning. By
noon the voyage of 5,000 miles was over, and the
Taiyuan was lying quietly at anchor in front of the City
of Victoria on the Island of Hongkong.
CHAPTER XV.
A GLIMPSE OF CATHAY AND ZIPANGU.
On either side of the mouth of the Si-kiang-, or Canton
River, stands an outpost of Europe. It is more than
three centuries since Portugal founded the colony of
Macao, yet she still possesses it under the nominal
suzerainty of China, which all those years have not
annulled. Within a few hours' sail of Macao — when
the south-west monsoon is blowing — lies the hilly island
of Hongkong, where the fossil civilisation of China was
again brought into contact with Plurope shortly before
the nineteenth century had passed through half its
course.
To a ship approaching Hongkong from the Philip-
pines, the serrated line of faintly purple hills upon the
islands and the mainland appears looming out of the
haze ; and if, as she nears the entrance, a fleet of junks is
at the same time sailing into the Tathong Channel, a
very quaint sea-piece is displayed in the foreground.
The light-brown sails, often riddled with holes, gleam in
the sunshine in the midst of the blue water, and the eye
— without which no junk could find its way at sea,
according to the native sailors — is seen in the depressed
bow. The stern rises high out of the water ; and there
is no more picturesque sight than the passage be-
tween Hongkong and the mainland, filled with fishing-
boats. On each side are rocks and mountains, patched
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A Glimpse of Cathay and Zipangu. 223
with green here and there, and in most places broken
off in a vertical line above the water's edge.
The Lye-ye-moon, or Carp Fish Pass, is the eastern
entrance to the harbour. On one shore is the Empire
of China, which has existed for a score of centuries ;
on the other is a military post and trading station be-
longing to the upstart Kingdom of England. Hongkong
is a free port, and the haven is one of the busiest in
the world. The war-ships of half-a-dozen nations may
often be seen at anchor, and mail-steamers from London,
Hamburg, Marseilles, San Francisco, and other places
visit the post at regular intervals. Here, a four-
masted sailing ship lies at her moorings, surrounded
by sampans and junks, her antipodes in naval archi-
tecture ; there, the white sides of an ironclad rise
like an iceberg out of the water. Chinawomen, with
their skiffs full of vegetables from the market gardens
at Kowloon, arc seen rowing across from the mainland,
and steam launches, in charge of Chinese crews, are
constantly flitting to and fro in all directions. There is
hardly a national flag that cannot be seen drooping over
the calm water. The yellow burgee of China, figured
with a black dragon, floats over the taffrail of a new
gunboat just arrived from England, and even the ensign
of Hawaii is not absent. Hongkong is a maritime
Clapham Junction,
There once was a rugged track winding along the
slope under the Peaks, which the handful of Chinese who
lived in Hongkong before the British occupation called
Koon-Tai-Lce, or Petticoat String Path, and they still
apply the name to Mctoria, the capital of the little
island. The place is a curious amalgamation of an
English garrison and commercial town and a Chinese
city, with an admixture of many other cosmopolitan ele-
ments. The Chinese quarter is built according to native
224 The Modern Odyssey.
ideas, modified by the necessity of humouring the sani-
tary prejudices of the English authorities. It has be-
come to a certain extent a place of refuge for prosper-
ous Chinese merchants, who find that it is dangerous
to have the reputation of riches in their native land,
where the law of Ransom for Wealth, lately proposed
in England, has been enforced for many years. Some of
the tricks which Chinese ingenuity has contrived for the
purpose of attracting custom are amusing. Over the
door of a Chinese cobbler may be seen some such name
as Hoby, while a tailor will advertise himself as Stulz
Junior, a grocer as John Bull and Co., a marine store
dealer on the Praya as Cheap Jack and Co.
The European quarter of Victoria is clean and
attractive. The banks and public offices are handsome
buildings ; colonnades run along most of the streets, and
there is no lack of open spaces filled with trees and
adorned with flowers. The Botanic Gardens on the side
of the hill have all the beauty which the Tropics can, but
which temperate climes cannot, bestow. A winding
pathway, called the Kennedy Road, skirts the mountain
in the rear of the city, and affords a magnificent view of
the crowded harbour and the hills on the mainland. A
zigzag aqueduct and a cable tramway make ugly scars
on the hillside, but one of them, at least, is a necessity.
A mile outside the city is a level spot of a i&w acres
enclosed by an amphitheatre of hills. Here are situated
five cemeteries and the racecourse ; and either from the
repose of the dead or from the pleasure of the living,
the spot has received the name of Wongnei Chong, or
the Happy Valley. A road divides the racecourse from
the cemeteries, and the grand stand overlooks them.
In the streets British infantrymen and gunners in red
and blue elbow coolies in cotton and Chinese merchants
in azure garments and silken pigtails. The Parsee's
A Glimpse of Cathay and Z/paxgu. 225
head-dress is as common as the red turban of the gun
Lascars and Sikh poHccmcn, than whom no handsomer
men exist ; and the tweed cap and shooting jacket of
the British officer mingle with all the costumes of the
East. Hardly a quadruped is seen except the subalterns'
terriers. No cabs ply in the city, and the ring of a
horse's hoofs is seldom heard. The people go about in
sedan-chairs and jinrickshas, drawn by coolies at a
surprising speed. The streets are, in consequence, very
quiet, and, owing to the absence of heavy traffic, the
roads are excellent.
From the signal station at Victoria Peak, which rises
steeply in rear of the city, the anchorage and the adjacent
islands are seen almost as in a map, and the streets
appear in plan. The shrill cries of children and the din
of the wharves rise faintly to the upper air, and as the
sun falls from the meridian, the bold form of the moun-
tain is cast in shadow over the sound, and reaches across
the channel to Kowloon. On the depressions and
shoulders near the Peak are built the houses in which
the people of the sweltering city find some alleviation of
the summer heat. A cable tramway connects Victoria
with the superurb — it cannot be styled a suburb ; the
coolies toil up the mountain side in the service of the
eyries ; wild flowers border the zigzag ascent ; the breeze
penetrates the villas ; and thus some of the inconveniences
of life in the Tropics are mitigated for the cosmopolitan
community of Hongkong.
Canton is less than a hundred miles from Hong-
kong, with which it is in communication twice a day
by means of comfortable steamers of the American type.
For a {q\v miles the course threads the granite islands
which lie at the mouth of the river, almost bare of vege-
tation. Trading junks and fishing boats throng the
P
226 The Modern Odyssey.
creeks and sounds, and stakes supporting a long- line of
nets stand in the shallows. A pagoda on a hill and a
village by the waterside indicate the threshold of one of
the most populous countries in the world. Gradually
the clear water of the China Sea becomes discoloured,
and the estuary narrows to a width of a few hundred
yards where the river forces its way through the
coastal range of hills. The passage is defended by the
Bogue Forts on either side of the channel, and by the
Bar-the-Way Islands in its midst. A little higher
up the river is Tiger Island, a bold mass of granite in
which a resemblance to many animals, but not to a tiger,
may be traced. The White Cloud chain of hills recedes
from the widened river above the gorge, and alluvial
tracts industriously cultivated change the character of
the scenery. Junks drift lazily with the current, and
sampans are numerous upon the tranquil stream ; the
banks are green with shrubs and fruit-trees ; irrigated
rice-fields take the place of the granite slopes lower
down ; and pagodas, with plants and even trees growing
on the ledges, are conspicuous.
Sailing vessels are not allowed to proceed higher up
the river than Whampoa, twelve miles below Canton. A
row of squalid hovels on the bank, close by a dock filled
with torpedo boats of the latest design, shows how nearly
Eastern barbarism and Western civilisation may approach
without influencing each other.
A day's journey on the Canton River is full of interest.
Everything is new and strange to European eyes.
Grotesque craft, having eyes painted where the hawse-
holes should be, and wooden hooks for anchors, and
manned by crews of unfamiliar features, pass and repass.
Cries in strange tongues reach the ear ; unknown birds
fly across the water ; the river has a saffron colour of its
own. Not a sign of the prim and commonplace form
FI.OWI'R PAGODA, CANTON.
A Glimpse of Cathay and Zipaxgu. 227
which European civilisation assumes when it is a pioneer
in distant lands is seen. There is a thorouj^hly indi-
genous air even about the Boguc Forts, which, neverthe-
less, prevented the French fleet from ascending the
river.
The appearance of Canton from the south-east does
not at once convey the impression that it is one of the
largest cities in the world. The left bank is covered
with houses, which extend for some distance inland in a
dense mass, but o\ving to their want of height, and to the
almost dead level of the site, it is hard to realise the size
of the city. The most prominent object is the Roman
Catholic Cathedral, with its nave and spires towering
above the surrounding pigmy buildings. The Flower
Pagoda, of nine stories, resembling a pile of hats, and
several pawn-shops, large square structures as high as a
London warehouse, are the only conspicuous features in
the one-storied city of Canton. The streets arc so
narrow that in many of them it is impossible to keep
both sides at arm's length. Every wall is covered with
placards and notices printed on yellow or red paper.
V'arious odours, some fragrant, others much the reverse,
fill the confined spaces. No wheeled carriage or horse
is seen, but only sedan-chairs borne on long poles by
coolies, and needing much skill in manoeuvring round
the corners. The streets are kept tolerably clean al-
though municipal government is unknown.
The shops are attractive ; and all articles of native
manufacture seem to be skilfully made. There is little
specious surface-work and catch-penny trade. The
Chinese shopman, though he is by no means averse to
putting high prices on his articles, usually gives good
value for his money. Even the butchers' shops are
presentable. Instead of carcasses and masses of gory
meat, little joints are hung up, and halves of chickens,
1' 2
228 The Modern Odyssey.
covered with a kind of varnish, are on the hooks. The
cookshops display appetising native dehcacies on the
counters, and are remarkable for their cleanliness. The
trays of the sweetmeat sellers are filled with bon-bons
and spice-cakes that would do credit to an Italian
confectioner. While the older Chinese often spit on the
ground when a Fan-kiuei, or Foreign Devil, passes by,
the younger members of the community are not so
unreasonably prejudiced against him. If they sometimes
crowd round him, it is from curiosity and not from
ill-will. When he enters a shop they will block up the
doorway in order to stare at him, and to listen to the
strange words that fall from the lips of the man without
a pigtail.
Among the sights of Canton are the Execution
Ground, the Hall of Judgment, and the Temple of the
Five Hundred Genii. The Execution Ground is a potter's
yard, and the heads of the criminals are preserved in
pots hung on the walls. In the Judgment Hall prisoners
are put to the question. Under the Chinese criminal
law an accused is told that he is known to be guilty, and
is informed that prompt confession will mitigate punish-
ment. If this is ineffectual, torture, varying from a few
strokes with a bamboo cane to the fracture of the arms
and legs, is applied. Little care is taken of prisoners
committed to gaol, and they live mainly on contributions
from friends and on what they can beg or steal from
visitors and others. In the Temple of the Five Hundred
Genii the effigies of various semi-divinities, among whom
is included an Englishman who travelled in China many
centuries ago, are arranged in arcades in a spacious
hall.
Although the streets of Canton are very narrow, they
are called by appellations expressive of the most compre-
hensive and exalted moral sentiments. There is a Street
A Glimpse of Cathay and Z/paxgu. 229
of Unblemished Rectitude, a Pure Pearl Street, a Street
of Benevolence and Love. In England we follow a
less philosophical system. The great majority of our
streets bear names which offer no incentive to propriety
of conduct. Obscure local personages, geographical terms,
and fancy words form the chief source from which the
supply is drawn. But no one feels better for residing in
a street called after Robinson, who was once alderman of
the ward, or after Brown, the ground landlord. A house
situated in Western Terrace or Bellevue Place does not
thereby offer any inducement to the occupier to be good.
Such words cannot be regarded as efficient moral agencies.
It is otherwise in Canton. The Chinese have recognised
that every man is influenced more or less by his external
associations, and have wisely set up before the inhabit-
ants a standard of virtue which they cannot overlook.
Thus the restaiirateiir in the Street of Benevolence and
Love will not be likely to fill his stewpans with the
stolen flesh of his neighbour's fat puppy ; the purvc\-or
who resides in the Street of Unblemished Rectitude will
endeavour to live up to it, and will not palm off upon
the public broth thickened with a Canton sparrow's domi-
cile as true bird's-nest soup ; the y??;//^?/^ gamblers in Pure
Pearl Street will be induced to play on the square ; and
the beneficent influence of the system will reach all
classes. '
A bridge outside the city walls crosses a muddy creek
full of barges, and leads to the European settlement of
Shamien. Within five minutes'walkof the alley's of Canton,
which centuries have not changed, are broad roads and
handsome houses surrounded by gardens. Tlic flags of
the Consuls flutter above the trees, the familiar cries
of tennis are heard from the lips of English girls on tlie
lawns, a steam fire-engine is sprinkling the turf, and
Englishmen are parading up and down the river wall
230 The Modern Odyssey.
as they would on the King's Road at Brighton or on
the Lees at Folkestone. Shamien is a patch of Europe
upon the oldest and most lasting garment in Asia.
If the streets are full of life, the river's silent high-
way is not less so. It is the busiest scene in the
world. Every variety of boat and junk is afloat. The
barge, sculled by half-a-dozen men at each end of a
plank projecting over the counter, slowly makes head-
way against the current, and narrowly escapes collision
with one of the small lighthouses which the Progressive
Party in Canton have placed upon a sandbank. Sam-
pans, covered not only amidships but also right up to
the prow, which looks like the beak of some gigantic water-
bird, dart in and out, and cockles full of ducks or
vegetables destined for the market bring the produce of
the neighbouring farms to the city. Trading junks from
the interior work to windward across the bows of sea-
going junks from Hongkong or Macao, and in the
shallows along the shore many score of punts are being
poled. All methods of propulsion are seen, from the
punt-pole to the stern-wheel of a new-fangled junk
driven by coolies on a treadmill, the walking beam
of the Hongkong steamer, and the twin screws of the
launches of the new navy of China. The ferry-boats
oscillate from side to side, but there is hardly room
enough for them to cross the river. The flower-boats,
which are to Canton what the cafes cJiantants are to Paris,
are moored to the bank, and the house-boats, in which
many thousands of the population live summer and
winter, lie packed in a bend of the river. Even at night
the din of trade hardly ceases. The chatter of Mongolian
tongues is incessantly heard, and lights flicker on the
strand and on the stream from sunset to sunrise. As a
scene of restless activity, the Canton River is without a
parallel. The Thames at London Bridge, the Mersey at
A Glimpse of Cathay and Zipangu, 231
Liverpool, the Hudson at New York, are deserted
streams in comparison with the Si-kiang.
A few Chinese soldiers are seen in Canton, dressed
in a curious uniform which shows that Chinamen are not
deficient in humour. It is a kind of brown shirt, with a
figure resembling a bull's eye on the front and back,
and at a little distance a Chinese Tommy Atkins looks
like the living target that he is in fact.
The coast, from Hongkong to the mouth of the Yang-
tsze-kiang, is studded with islands, where the fleets of
fishing boats which net the waters of the Formosa
Channel take shelter. The horizon is often not less
crowded than it is in the North Sea, and long lines of
drift nets attached to bamboo poles showing a few feet
only above the water are frequently passed ; and even
with the greatest care in steering the mail steamers
occasionally cut through them, unless the water is quite
smooth, as the poles are only visible at a short distance,
and a ship 400 feet in length cannot readily avoid
them.
Shanghai is built upon a small river called the
Woosung, once the chief channel of the Yang-tsze-
kiang, but now forsaken by the greater volume of
that river's waters. The larger steamers anchor at the
junction, and transfer their passengers to steam launches
for conveyance to Shanghai, twelve miles distant. Mud
fortifications line the shore of the wedge of land which
separates the two rivers, and a level country intersected
with canals and protected from inundation b\- dykes lies
on the right bank of the Woosung. A curious junk,
with five masts irregularly placed, is peculiar to the
river. The proximity of Shanghai is indicated by factory
chimneys and spars of ships appearing across the low
land at a bend in the stream ; and except for the quaint
rigs of the native craft, there is little that would appear
232 The Modern Odyssey.
strange in the reach of an American or European navi-
gable river.
The European quarter of Shanghai lies in the angle
between the Woosung and another deserted channel of
the capricious Yang-tsze-kiang, the Soochow Creek. It
is well built and very handsome in appearance, and the
Bund along the bank of the river is one of the pleasantest
places of resort in the East. The streets are clean and
lit by the electric light, and the telephone is in use.
Dogcarts and broughams run by the side of jinrickshas
and Chinese wheelbarrows carrying a passenger on each
side of the wheel. The shops are superior to those in
many English country towns. At the end of the Bund
an unpretending granite monument records the names of
the officers of Gordon's army who fell while suppress-
ing the Taeping rebellion. A prosperous air per-
vades the European settlement of Shanghai. It unites
the bustle of a great American city to uniformity of
appearance and to some measure of architectural
beauty, characteristics which are seldom found to-
gether, and it is in many respects a model city. It
supports not only a volunteer corps of the three arms, but
also a pack of hounds. The chief commercial nations of
the West have each a concession. In the French quar-
ter a French gendarme hovers around as he would in
Paris, and French names are inscribed on the corners of
the streets. In the English quarter the British police-
man, dressed in his well-known uniform, stalks stolidly
along the side-walks, and names such as Pckin Street or
Hankow Road are seen. Unlike Canton, the native city
is quite subordinate in importance to the European
settlement of Shanghai.
A division of the British fleet is usually stationed at
Shanghai, and steamers of all nations arc moored to the
A\harvcs. The masts of the junks at the native town, a
A Glimpse of Cathay and Zipaxgu. 233
mile higher up the river, bear a curious resemblance to
a Canadian forest which has been devastated by fire and
only the slender trunks of the fir trees remain. The
Imperial Chinese Navy is represented by a small gun-
boat with a portentous name — The Terror of Western
Nations. Many English naval officers have entered the
Chinese service. The principle which has guided the
Chinese authorities in the selection of foreign officers is
characteristic. When a list of names is before them, the
choice usually falls upon such names as Lang, Ling, or
Ching, which either have a Chinese ring about them or
which are actually Chinese words.
The unrestricted admission to and presence of
foreigners in Japan is only allowed at and within a
few miles' radius of seven places called the Treaty Ports.
Access to the other parts of the empire is obtained by
means of a passport, which is issued with little demur.
It can be obtained either through the British Consul, in
which case it will be a document wholly in Japanese,
with nothing on the face of it to show a British traveller
that it is not a warrant for his immediate imprisonment
or execution ; or through the British Legation at Tokio,
when a code of regulations in the English language will
be found appended to it to the following effect : —
1. Travelling at night in a horsc-carriagc without a
lantern is not allowed.
2. The passport must be produced when demanded
not only to a kucho, but even to a kocho.
3. Driving quickl}' along a narrow road is prohibited.
4. Defacing shrines and mile-posts is a punishable
offence.
5. Attendance at a fire on horseback is forbidden.
The difference between a kucho and a kocho is not
explained, nor is the reason for Rule 5 apparent.
234 The Modern Odyssey.
Possibly some wild young man in Japan was once
heartless enough to saddle his hack and ride, ventre-d-
te7're, to the scene of the conflagration, instead of re-
straining his curiosity and proceeding to it on foot in a
sober manner not inconsistent with sympathy for the
misfortune which had befallen a fellow-creature.
The Inland Sea of Japan, which is entered from the
westward through the Straits of Simonoseki, reproduces
many of the most attractive spots in Europe and
America in a series of beautiful and varied pictures.
Sometimes it expands into the dimensions of a lake,
and the encircling mountains, rocky and irregular in
outline, give it the appearance of a loch on the coast of
Inverness-shire ; then it shrinks into a channel studded
with islets, like the St. Lawrence below Kingston.
Broad, tranquil reaches with wooded shores, which recall
Derwentwater or Windermere, are found within a few
miles of narrow passages through which the tide eddies
and swirls like a river struggling through the defiles of a
mountain range.
In some places a stone may be cast from the deck of
a mail steamer of 5,000 tons into the midst of fields and
gardens as neat and as fertile as any that could be seen
on the banks of the Thames, and yet in a few minutes
she will have entered a zone of rocky islands, with
patches of forest upon their rugged sides, and scarred
with brown ridges of volcanic formation. The light-
house on the promontory speaks of the sea, but it is
soon masked by a grove of trees ; then a sudden bend
reveals a glimpse of Como or Maggiore ; but the scene
is quickly shifted, and the stem is already ploughing a
broad sheet of water hedged in by bluffs, hanging \\ oods,
snowy peaks and summits veiled in clouds, and bordered
in one direction by a horizon above which the mirage
raises the images of a icw objects upon the hidden shore.
A Glimpse of Cathay and Zipaxgu. 235
Kobe, the chief port of the Inland Sea, h"es at the
foot of a low range of furrowed hills on the shore of a
spacious bay. It is a busy place, and fully as many
ships are usually at anchor in the haven or moored to
the wharves as would be seen in a European harbour of
the second rank. Within a few hundred yards of the
pier, the club, the cricket ground, and the lawn-tennis
courts, all of them in excellent order, show that Kobe
contains a flourishing British colony ; and the tall goal-
posts and cross-bar of Rugby football, rising in the
midst of a Japanese city, testify to the influence of that
school in the world through the means of its own proper
pastime.
The railway from Kobe to the interior traverses an
agricultural district cultivated with the greatest care.
The fields on the slopes of the hills arc arranged in
terraces, while those on the level are surrounded by low
mounds to facilitate the irrigation of the rice, and are, in
fact, large shallow dishes containing a few inches of
water. Every rivulet is cherished and hoarded that not
a drop of the precious fluid may be lost. Wooden
conduits convey the water to the place where it is
require'd, and a hundred little rills distribute it. In two
places the railway passes under the beds of the torrents,
which lie above the normal level of the land and are
embanked to prevent the flooding of the fields when the
freshets come down from the hills. Everything is done
to economise the water when it is scarce, and to lead it
away harmlessly to the sea when it is too abundant.
There is not a weed to be seen, and each field is as clean
as a market garden in Kent. \o space is wasted in
hedges, and the only uncultivated spots are where the
stone pedestals in the midst of a little grove indicate the
burying place of a hamlet or of a family. Even the
stacks of rice straw arc made to occupy as little space as
236 The Modern Odyssey.
possible by being built up round a small tree, so that
they can be piled very high in proportion to their
breadth.
The little natives are constantly busy in the fields,
either hoeing the furrows or trotting along the paths
under the burden of their pails of water, and distributing
the contents with wooden ladles; and the kites hovering
around are almost as tame as the crows perched on the
rice stacks. The farms and gardens on the shore of
Osaka Bay are a proof of what intelligent industry can
effect in agriculture. Nor is the success especially due
to climate or to soil, for the extremes of the former are
great, and the latter is not uncommonly fertile ; and it
was, moreover, necessary to level many of the fields, to
arrange them in terraces, and to cut water channels in
them before they could be profitably tilled.
Kioto, which until a few years ago was the capital of
Japan, is outside the Treaty limits, but within three hours'
journey from Kobe. With the exception of the railway
station — a building which everyone will applaud the
Japanese for erecting — there is scarcely a trace of
Europe or of America to be seen in the city; and it is,
in consequence, more interesting than the present capital,
Tokio. It stands in a wide valley on the banks of the
Kamogawa, a river which is a mere stream during the
dry season. The streets are regularly laid out, and cross
each other at right angles only, and, except along the
river bank, where there is of necessity a slight diver-
gence, no street runs in a diagonal direction. Each
block is a perfect square or oblong, and the plan of
Kioto bears witness to the Japanese love of order.
On the slope of the range of hills rising on the east
side of the city stand the Chioin Temple and Monastery,
a very fine example of Japanese architecture, placed on
a terrace in a superb situation. The I\Iaru}'ama peak
A Gi./A/PSE OF Cathay and Zipaxgu. 237
overlooks it, and from the top of the flight of steps by
which it is approached the houses of the city and the
mountains in the w est are seen over the trees at the foot
of the slope. The hollow roof, shaped like a shallow
trough, prevents the outlines of the massive timber
structure from appearing too rigid, and though the eaves
jut out considerably, the effect is not heavy. The
tinkling of the c}'mbals and the monotonous chant of
the priests issue from the Temple's dark recesses, and a
faint gleam of gold lacquer and brazen things is reflected
back to the outer air. A steep ascent leads to the Great
Bell of Chioin, which is hung in a tower under the pines
a little higher up the mountain side.
Half a mile towards the south the Maganibashi or
Spectacle Bridge — so called from the shape of its twin
arches — spans a pool covered with lotus plants and
shaded by cherry-trees. The path traverses a grove of
bamboos, and emerges on to a quaint street of toy and
porcelain shops, and leads up to the Kiyomidzu Temple.
It was built near the Otowa Waterfall about the time of
King Alfred by a Shogun, as an offering to the goddess
througj;! whose aid he believed he had gained a great
victory, and it is one of the most remarkable and pic-
turesque edifices in Japan. A bronze dragon' guards a
trough of sacred water on a stage built out from the
hill-side ; and the pilgrims crowd round a cage of
sparrows, buy one for a few sen, and set the little
captive free, -that it may fly away with some sin of
theirs into the pure air. It is a curious picture, which
the European traveller instinctively feels that he spoils
with his presence. The Temple was at one time the
scene of a dangerous experiment in superstition. Who-
soever jumped from the platform in front of the Hondo
on to the ground below, and yet escaped with his life,
gained the fulfilment of his wish — a practice which
238 The Modern Odyssey.
resulted in so many accidents and fatal injuries that the
instincts of a paternal Government were aroused, and the
place is now hedged in with a high palisade of bamboo.
A steamer of fair speed will cover the distance be-
tween Kobe and Yokohama in less than twenty-four
hours, and the time will probably not be materially
reduced when the railway now in course of construction
is completed. Fujiyama, a snow-clad volcano rising
more than twelve thousand feet above the sea, is seen
towering into the blue sky long before the nearer but
lower hills on the shore are visible ; and near the
entrance to Tokio Bay a long and broad line of steam
and smoke, issuing from the crater of another volcano on
Vries Island, is continually drifting to leeward across the
water.
Yokohama, the European plantation near the Ja-
panese capital, is mainly built upon a reclaimed marsh
by the side of an inlet of the Pacific. The houses, both
in structure and appearance, are inferior to those of
Hongkong, the majority of them being built of wood.
The staple trade of Yokohama is the sale of genuine and
counterfeited Japanese curiosities at high prices. The
shops — full of cabinets, lacquer, embroidery, brocade,
carved ivory, and the discarded armour of the dainiios — ■
are veritable museums, in which the gradual decline of
native artistic taste under foreign influence may be
traced.
The English residents in Yokohama are hospitable,
and, from their constant intercourse with men and women
of all nations, they have become unusually agreeable and
free from insular prejudices. They have established a
racecourse which would satisfy an Australian, a club
with a good library and a stove flue issuing from every
window, and they have built a church with a tower re-
sembling a lighthouse.
A Glimpse of Cathay axd Zipaxgu. 239
Some years ago, when the passion for change was at
its height in Japan, Yeddo — a city which constantly
suffers from fire, typhoon, and earthquake — was pro-
moted to be the capital of Japan in succession to
Kioto superseded, and its name was changed to Tokio.
It stands at the head of the bay of the same name, on
the banks of the little river Sumida-gawa ; and, as the
houses are low, it occupies a wide area in proportion to
the population. The streets are broad and clean, and
many of them which had been destroyed by fire have
been rebuilt in brick. In those quarters of the city
which have survived the conflagrations, massive ^xq-
y^xoo{ godowns, or stores, with heavy shutters closing in
upon barred windows, stand prominent in the midst of
the wooden shops, A moat winds round the centre of
the city, approximately in the form of a spiral, between
high walls of masonry and steep, grassy banks, and en-
closes in its coils the chief public buildings. The inner-
most coil surroundsthe Imperial GardenofFukiage — a very
pretty, quiet bit of woodland in the heart of a great city.
A little stream crossed by stepping-stones runs through
it, pavilions stand in shady places, the breeze rustics in
the bamboos with a sound indistinguishable from running
water, and not a sound of the outside world is heard.
Cr}'ptomcria and other tall forest-trees give their shade,
and though the garden is kept in excellent order it is
neither prim nor formal.
The several coils of the spiral moat are connected
in all directions by canals flanking open spaces and
boulevards. Modern bridges and old roofed gates of
heavy timber join the detached enclosures, and the cross
channels make the central portion of the city a labv-rinth
in which it is more easy to be lost — though the streets
are few and the open spaces many — than in the more
crowded quarters outside. The canal banks are well
240 The Modern Odyssey.
cared for, trees grow upon the walls, and flocks of ducks
float peaceably on the wider reaches of the water, which
in summer is covered with lotus flowers.
Soldiers are almost as numerous in the streets of
Tokio as in a Prussian city. It is hardly possible to walk
in any direction without seeing a few at least, and often
a large number. The French uniforms of the officers
and the German tunics of the men show the various in-
fluences which have contributed to the formation of the
modern Japanese army. The men, though small, arc
sturdy, and, if they are not very smart, they at least
attempt to imitate the European military swagger. The
cavalry are mounted on ponies, horses being almost un-
known in Japan.
Tokio possesses two railway stations, a line of tram-
way, and a network of telegraph wires, all betokening
activity; yet the Japanese are not a noisy people. Owing
to the absence of heavy traffic and the smoothness of the
roads, the city is very quiet, and this is especially notice-
able at night. The din and uproar of a great metropolis
are not heard. It is hard to believe that outside the
silent precincts of the moats arc hundreds of thousands of
people. The midnight calm of an English village seems
to fall upon the capital of Japan. Charcoal fires are
universally used, with the result that the sky is as blue
by day as it would be in the open country, and hardly a
star is hidden at night which a ship sailing across the
Tropics would see.
In the Park of Shiba — which was, until a few years
ago, the domain of a Buddhist temple — are the tombs of
some of the Shoguns, or military rulers of Japan. The
precincts are surrounded by a wall, and at the entrance
is a roofed gate, resembling, though on a far larger scale,
the lych-gate of an English churchyard. No other place
in the world contains such a splendid collection of all
A Glimpse of Cathay axd Zipaxgu. 241
varieties of Japanese art. Every kind of maj^nificcnt,
gorgeous, and artistic colouring and decoration may be
seen. Rows of stone and bronze lanterns, to the
number of several hundreds, stand in the paved courts,
which are separated from each other by walls covered
with metal-work. The Shogun's emblem of three
hollyhock leaves appears everywhere. Lacquered posts
of cryptomeria support the roofs of the shrines, and the
ceilings are elaborately decorated in gold. On the panels
of the doors are figures of birds and mythical animals,
exquisitely carved; bronze plates protect the corners ; and
the porches are ornamented with geometrical designs.
Scarlet and gold are the prevailing colours, and they are
still almost as brilliant as when the artist's brush applied
them. The rooms and passages are filled with wood-carving,
lacquer,and bronzework. In theantechamberof thcchapcl
are boxes and tables of the finest lacquer which Japan
has ever produced, and on the cornices the chief Japanese
fruity and flowers are represented with perfect fidelity.
Colonnades, built in compartments containing gilt
medallions, connect the various tombs. Lacquer, some
of it centuries old, blazes on every side, and the pillars
are covered with gilded plates of copper; and, although
the brightest colours are freely used, the effect is pleasing.
The artistic instinct of the Japanese has combined
and harmonised them so skilfully with other hues that
even scarlet and emerald green seem to lose their anti-
pathy when placed near together in the precincts of
Shiba ; and it is only where modern restorations have
been made of ancient work that the colouring is not so
successful. W\ the ornamentation is work of design,
and the adventitious aid of jewels or inlaying is never
used to enhance the effect, which is de[)endent wholly
upon the genius and manual dexterity of the artist.
The bodies of the Shoguns lie outside the shrines and
242 The Modern Odyssey.
oratories in which their spirits are invoked. Each tomb
is marked by a plain stone only. The courts arc very
still, and the hum of the city does not enter them. Ever-
green oaks and pines shelter them from the sun and
wind ; at the back rises a wooded hill; the kites circle
overhead ; and the strange quietude of the wonderful
precincts is broken only by the footsteps of the Buddhist
monks.
The modern Ulysses who has seen the manners and
cities of many peoples will be disposed to award the palm
to the Japanese as the nation among whom it is most
agreeable to travel. The cheeriness of all classes, their
good-humour and civility — which never degenerates into
servility — leave a very favourable impression upon the
wanderer. The politeness of the men is extraordinary.
A rude, churlish, or discourteous act or word rarely
sullies their intercourse with strangers. A Japanese is
by nature a well-bred and well-mannered gentleman,
and his bearing contributes greatly to the pleasure
of a visit to his wonderful country, which is, moreover,
rendered still more attractive by the charming, merry
expression, such as a happy child should wear, almost
inv^ariably seen upon the faces of the younger women,
even when beauty of feature is absent.
The Chinese and the Japanese in the East corre-
spond to the English and the French in the West.
Between the English and the Chinese, as likewise be-
tween the French and the Japanese, many points of
resemblance exist. The Chinese are a conservative
nation, tenacious of old customs, suspicious of new
methods and ideas, and prejudiced against foreigners.
They depend upon commerce for their prosperity, and
in their mercantile dealings they are honest and upright.
The Japanese arc the Frenchmen of the East. They
A Glimpse of Cathay and Zipangu. 243
are excitable and fickle. They affect to despise com-
merce, and yearn after military distinction. They are
intelligent, and eagerly receptive of new ideas. No
country has ever undergone a greater transformation
in less than a generation. Not thirty years ago, no
foreigner could travel without danger in Japan. The
barbaric processions of the daimios and their retainers
blocked the public roads, and attacked all travellers
who would not dismount and pay respect to the prince.
Now railways connect some of the chief cities and
are being rapidly extended, and the tourist is wel-
comed for the sake of the money which he brings into
the country.
The Government was an inefficient form of dual
monarchy. Now representative institutions are on the
point of being granted, and the executive power
has been taken from the Shogun and given, under
strict limitations, to the Mikado, who was lately a
half-mystical, half-ornamental head of the State, pos-
sessing little authority. The daimios have been shorn
of their feudal privileges and estates ; and, with a view
of equalising the distribution of wealth, the richest re-
ceived compensation at the rate of one year's purchase
of their rentals, while the smaller men were consoled
with no less than twenty years' purchase. European
and American customs have been introduced wholesale,
and Japan is changing so rapidly that a Japanese of
middle age must have difficulty in recognising his
country. Japan adopted Western civilisation as rashly
as a schoolboy smokes his first cigar, and it made Japan
almost as uncomfortable. Whatever came from Europe
or America was right. Even the French nation, fond
as it is of change, would have shrunk from such a meta-
morphosis. But the French of the East had no hesita-
tion. The ancient habits and tastes of the people did
( .) 2
244 ^^^ Modern Odyssey.
not stand in the way. Only a universal love of novelty
rendered the transformation of Japan possible. A more
conservative nation would have been driven back into
barbarism by the shock.
The picturesque costumes of the country are being
replaced by English dress in its most slovenly form. The
Japanese young man of the new epoch is a guy. He sur-
mounts a pair of sandals — a relic of his forefathers which
he clings to because he finds shoes or boots uncomfortable
— with a suit of clothes such as a London shop-boy would
wear on a Bank Holiday at Ramsgate. The women are
adopting Paris bonnets, corsets, and high-heeled boots,
and try to valse. When the Japanese furnish their
houses in the European style they lose all their native
taste, and the curtains, screens, carpets, and accessories
with which the rooms are crowded are neither harmoni-
ous in colouring nor of good design. It can still be
truly said that in art they have at present little or
nothing which they can learn from Europe ; but foreign
influence during the last generation has sensibly lowered
the standard. Neither in design nor in execution is it
equal to the standard of a century ago, when the market,
if less extensive, was at least more critical. A time
may come when England, having become the chief
depository of the Japanese works of art which are
leaving the country in large quantities, will receive
Japanese artists anxious to see specimens of the finest
lacquer and bronzes and cabinets, and to recover the lost
secret of designing them.
In another generation Japan will be as commonplace
as Europe or America ; and although it is still one of
the most interesting countries in the world, no traveller
visits it without regretting that he had not seen it before
the veneer of foreign civilisation had been applied. Yet
at present the harm done is superficial, and by some of
A Glimpse of Cathay and Zipangu. 245
the many things which remain untouched we can
measure the defects of our own civilisation. Here is a
people who, four or five centuries ago, when no form of
art, except, perhaps, architecture, and that only to a
limited extent, flourished in England, had already
produced some of the most beautiful objects that can
be found in the world. Japan took the place of Greece
as the fatherland of artists. Only the Greeks or the
Japanese could have devised such a subtle touch of
embellishment as the Entasis.
Nor is it in the departments of professed art
alone that the Japanese display their taste. It enters
into their daily life. The houses even of the lowest
classes are artistically built. The heavy, unsightly
beams which form the framework of an English cottage
are not seen, and the rough-and-ready carpentry of a
British hovel is absent. Every part is carefully finished
and made to appear as sightly as possible. The raised
dais near the chief door is covered with neat matting ;
and the sliding panels which take the place of windows
are always good examples of joinery, and fit very accu-
rately into the grooves. No chinks or gaps intervene
at the joints, and the dimensions of all the component
parts of the dwelling are reduced as far as possible. A
Japanese cottage or street-house appears as though it
had been constructed by a skilled workman in a happy
mood. An English cottage too often appears as though
it had been hammered into shape by a pioneer in a
hurry. The small porcelain cups, the teapot and the
bowl, in which tea and saki are served in the smaller tea-
houses, which correspond to the becrshops of an English
village, would be an ornament to a London drawing-
room. The contrast between the interior of the house
of a Japanese artisan or shopkee{)er and that of an
English workman is striking. If in one or two respects
246 The Modern Odyssey.
— such as the absence of fireplaces and the thinness of
the walls, which neither keep out the cold in winter nor
exclude the heat in summer — the former is not so
comfortable as the latter, yet its fittings show that the
owner takes pride in his home, and endeavours to make
it attractive.
Even such trifles as the boxes and paper cases in
which native work or embroidery is packed are neatly
and prettily made ; the edges of the sides are rounded
off, and the lids fit exactly. A piece of slovenly work-
manship is rarely seen. The love of order and regularity
and the appreciation of that which is pleasing to the eye
are universal.
The rapid change which has come over the country
during the last thirty years makes it impossible to fore-
cast its characteristics in the second decade of the
twentieth century. Who, at the time of the bombard-
ment of Simonoseki by the British fleet, would have
been bold enough to prophesy that 1888 would see
third-class carriages of Japanese railways crowded with
natives .' Yet a very common sight in many towns is a
throng of little Japanese standing on a railway platform
with their tickets in one hand and hired cushions in the
other ; for cushions are not provided in the carriages,
but may be hired for a trifle at all the stations.
Among the social changes to which the Progressists
of Japan might usefully direct their attention is a miti-
gation of the Japanese code of etiquette of courtship and
marriage. Men and women never meet, except at
theatres or by chance in public places. All parties but
those given on New Year's Day are confined to one sex.
A man has little voice in the choice of his wife ; she is
selected by his parents, and her first duty is to attend to
them. When the selection has been made, a meeting is
arranged, in order that the son may sec that his bride-
A Glimpse of Cathay and Zipangu. 247
elect is not absolutely repulsive, but only formal con-
versation between them is permitted ; and after marriage
he would incur the displeasure of his mother if he paid
more attention to his wife than to her. He may not
take his wife out without his mother's permission,
and even when parents live with a married son they
control the household.
New Year's Day is kept as a festival by the Japanese.
Bamboo shoots are placed in clusters before the houses,
and under the eaves a continuous rope of straw runs
along the street, symbolic of the unity and brotherhood
of the people. By New Year's Day all debts must be
paid, and the custom has taken such hold of the people
that they will sell or pawn almost everything they possess
in order to satisfy their creditors ; and the early days of
the year are, therefore, a favourable occasion for a Euro-
pean traveller to purchase Japanese dresses and em-
broideries, which have been disposed of by their owners
who desired to find the means of buying European
clothes and ornaments.
The absence of extreme poverty in Japan is at once
remarked by a stranger, as well as the light-hearted
industry of the people. They have the reputation of
being lazy because they do not work in the plodding
way of an English labourer, but they work enough to
keep themselves in good clothes and in a sufficiency of
food, and they are always ready to laugh.
Such are the impressions of a brief visit to Cathay,
which is inhabited by the most reactionary Conservatives
on the face of the globe, and to its antithesis, Zipangu,
which has become the tilting-ground of the most ruthless
and iconoclastic Procjrcssists that e\cr existed.
CHAPTER XVI.
A P. AND O, LOG FROM YOKOHAMA TO CALCUTTA.
January jth. — The Thibet was advertised to leave
Yokohama at lo a.m., and the anchor was actually
catted before the French flagship struck four bells, an
example of punctuality which all steamers should
imitate. What an absence of fuss and hurry there
is on board an English ship leaving harbour ! Hardly
a word is heard except a few quiet orders to the chief
officer on the forecastle ; and she departs with no
further ceremony than dipping her ensign to the men-
of-war in port, and with the quiet air of a person going
out for a morning's walk. On board a French vessel,
on the other hand, the event is suggestive of the open-
ing scene of a tragedy ; excited voices on the bridge
and in the bows, rapid feet upon the main-deck, invest
the proceedings with a dramatic air : but the efifect is
spoilt by the feebleness of French nautical phraseology.
En avant dojicetnent, even when roared by an excitable
capitaine de long conrs, is a poor substitute for Half-
speed Ahead. French idioms of the sea always sound as
if they had been composed by a committee of school-
girls, and revised by the Academy. Still, although the
language of the drama is that of a young ladies' maga-
zine, the action is theatrical. A Frenchman sails out of
harbour with an air to which he can successfully appeal
as not being inconsistent with his character should the
A P. AND O. Log. 249
subsequent events of the voyage prove him to be a hero,
etvpirate, or a cannibal.
The Thibet steamed away from Yokohama like a
duck proceeding on a voyage across a farmyard pond.
There was little or no wind, and the Bay of Tokio was
calm ; but when we reached the open sea a fresh breeze
from the south-west was blowing. The smoke from the
volcano on Vries soon faded from sight, but pale Fuji-
yama rose like a phantom over the shore, and remained
visible until sunset.
January ?)th. — The coast of Japan is as windy and as
turbulent as the Bay of Biscay, but the Inland Sea is
usually smoother than the Pacific, and for many miles
before we reached Kobe this evening at sunset the Thibet
was almost motionless. Three American men-of-war of
old-fashioned build — a large proportion of the United
States' Navy — are at anchor in the harbour, and a few
gunboats belonging to other nations.
However humiliating the discovery may be to an
Englishman, it is nevertheless a fact that British blue-
jackets do not show to advantage by the side of foreign
men-of-war's men. The Royal Navy is supposed to be
the finest service in the world, but the appearance of the
seamen is not creditable to it. They are too often ill-
dressed, untidy, and anything but smart. A seaman of
the French or American Navy is, in many cases, as
great a contrast to a British bluejacket as a Guardsman
is to a Militia recruit. This is not as it should be.
Among the merchant shipping lying in Kobe is the
old P. and O. paddle-steamer Delta, once so well known
on the Marseilles and Alexandria station, but now con-
verted into a screw, and belonging to the Japanese
Nippon Yuscn Kaisha line.
January \oth. — The donkey engine began to bray and
snort at daybreak yesterday, and discharged the holds
250 The Modern Odyssey.
with so much energy and noise that everyone who could
left the ship, some going to Kioto, others to the club,
others to Osaka; and when they returned in the evening
it was still at work hauling in fresh cargo. Towards
midnight it ceased, and as it was then too late to leave,
we remained in harbour until this morning, so as to have
daylight for the passage through the most intricate part
of the Inland Sea. More passengers embarked at Kobe
— a male Talking Machine ; a Corean gentleman who
wears a wire head-dress like a fly-screen ; and a China-
man, with his wives and babies, some half-dozen of whom
occupy three cabins in the saloon. The babies scream
like Europeans by day and by night, and especially at
meal times ; while the father, who is a magistrate at
Singapore, eats his dinner complacently within a few
feet of them. A young lady who came on board at
Yokohama promises to keep the TJubet lively. The
first evening at sea she brought some fireworks on deck
and let them off, much to the astonishment of the cap-
tain ; and she has already quarrelled with the first officer
and taken up with the doctor. There arc, however, some
cats on board who behave admirably. They are never
in the way, they never make a noise, and they are
beloved by everyone except the raven, who, when not
perched on a chair in the smoking-room or on a cog-
wheel of the winch, is usually tweaking their tails or
prodding their sides with his powerful beak.
January i ith. — No one except the watch was on deck
this morning when we passed through the Straits of
Simonosdki, before daylight, into the Sea of Japan. The
course to Nagasaki lies along the coast of Kiushiu,
sometimes in the open, but oftener through channels
between the mainland and the outlying islands. Rocks
of every form rise out of the water, some arched, some
resembling a cathedral spire or a tower of a castle, some
A P. AND O. Log. 251
lying like a wedge upon the surface. Wherever culti-
vation is possible, the hills are covered with trees and
fields, the primness of which is out of character with the
wild volcanic scenery.
Nagasaki Harbour, which we entered at sunset,
having shortly before met the Tekeran on her way to
Yokohama and handed over our Inland Sea pilot to
her, is a beautiful haven, completely land-locked and
sheltered by high hills. Long before the Thibet had
made fast to the buoy close to the Russian man-of-war
Dmetri Donskoi, she was surrounded by lighters and
coal-barges, and until after midnight a ceaseless roar of
winches, chains, and tongues continued. Women's
rights are recognised at Nagasaki, and they have the
privilege of replenishing steamers with coal. Half a
hundred of them clambered on board, and having
formed a queue on each side of the ship, handed the
baskets and discharged them into the bunkers with
marvellous rapidity. It was a curious scene. A double
and triple row of lighters and sampans encircled the
ship, many of them having an open fire, which flickered
on strange forms of boats and men, all of whom talked
volubly as they handled the bales, and shouted when
they felt disposed. The outlines of the two Russian
men-of-war loomed dimly in the darkness, and caused
almost the only gap in the circle of lights upon the
shore which enclosed the Thibet in a ring of fire.
All the Chinese babies and their mothers went on
.shore, and Peace, looking doubtfully, however, at the
Talking Machine, returned to the ship.
January 12///.— We left Nagasaki at daylight, and
Japan had faded out of sight in the afternoon.
When he reaches the open sea, the inquiring passenger
begins his questions. His appetite for knowledge is
insatiable. He wants to know ever}-thing, from the
252 The Modern Odyssey.
price of a squeegee to the exact moment when the ship
will arrive in port. He assails the officers with his
nautical ideas, under the impression that the only
subject which a sailor cares to talk about is the sea, and
he makes a feeble joke, over which he has endeavoured
to sprinkle some marine seasoning, to the captain. But
everyone will acknowledge that curiosity on the subject
of the ship's daily run is legitimate. For some reason
the daily run is not published on board the Thibet,
and we are thereby deprived of one of the few topics
of conversation that are invariably interesting on board
ship.
Next to the passenger who wants to know everything,
the greatest bore is the passenger who wants to lend
everything he has.
January i^th. — The Dead Secret has been disclosed ;
the mystery of the ocean has been revealed. Something
far more interesting than the sea-serpent, or the cause of
the tiff between Miss H. and the first officer, now happily
at an end, has been brought to light by strategy. A
passenger put the artless question to the third officer,
who was taken off his guard, and answered, 291 miles.
The ship's run, which is too sacred a subject to be
published to vulgar eyes, and displayed, as in other
vessels, in the companion, but which should be spoken
of in dark corners with bated breath and awe, was, by
the cunning of a mere traveller, made known just before
luncheon. After this, further concealment was useless,
and the officers frankly confessed that the lighthouse
which came in sight soon after sunset was Turnabout
Light on the coast of China, and that the Thibet was not
more than 390 miles from Hongkong.
January i6th. — The sound of the whistle awoke the
sleepers at sunrise as the Thibet steamed through
the fleet of fishing junks in the Lye-ye-moon Pass
A P. AXD O. Log. 253
By eight o'clock we were hanging on to the P. and O.
buoy at Hongkong, and in a few minutes the ship
was surrounded by lighters, each with a cooking-stove
on board. Before beginning to unload the cargo, the
coolies squatted down and had their breakfast. Bowls
of rice, stews of meat, boiled fish and vegetables, all
well cooked, were soon rapidly and dexterously con-
sumed. To see a Chinaman eating rice, or taking a
piece of meat from a dish, with a pair of chopsticks
held in one hand, extorts wonder far greater than
that aroused by the dexterity of a Frenchman loading
himself with peas by means of a knife. A delicate
pair of chopsticks is certainly a food implement more
suitable to a refined nation than the knife, fork, and
spoon. With the two former we lacerate and handle
our food as a beast of prey does with his jaw and
claws, and the idea of a spoon we have taken from
his tongue. What a charming picture a beautiful
English girl eating strawberries and cream with a
pair of dainty ivory chopsticks would make !
Jayiuary lyth. — The Thibet is but a shuttle in the
P. and O. loom running to and fro between Yokohama
and Hongkong, where passengers for the west join
the larger steamers on the main line from Shanghai
to London. The SutlcJ, to which we were transhipped,
is a fine vessel of over 4,000 tons, and reasonably fast.
She has been on shore once at least, and, next to the
Rome, is said to be the most accomplished roller in
the service. She is clean and comfortable. Punctually
at 4 p.m. she cast off from the buoy. The crowd
of officers from the garrison and the men-of-war, the
Parsces and natives of Hongkong, who had come
to say farewell to the passengers, tumbled over the
side into the steam launches, and slowly she threaded
her way through the crowd of shipping. The P. and O.
254 The Modern Odyssey.
Zambesi signalled a farewell message by semaphore
as we crossed her bows, and soon we reached the
open sea through the western channel, and the peaks
and islands of Cathay faded away with the daylight.
January \<^t]i. — The Cochin-China coast was in sight
at mid-day. There is a lull in the monsoon, and the
China Sea is as calm as a millpond. The heat during
the day is trying, as the wind is right aft, but the
evenings are delightful. The quarter-deck is lit with
electric lights, and a piano has been brought up, and
the strains of sea songs like " Tom Bowling," and of
bread-and-butter ballads like " Polly," or " Two Little
Pattering Feet," are wafted nightly over the waves.
It was bad enough having the Male Talking Machine
handed over to us from the Thibet, but now we find that
a greater infliction — a Female Talking Machine — joined
the Sutlej at Hongkong. Unfortunately, it is impossible
to pair them off, for with unerring instinct they avoid
one another.
It was proposed to have a picnic in the engine-room
by way of relieving the monotony of the voyage, but
the idea was not received with enthusiasm.
January 20th. — The weekly fire and boat drill was
performed at 1 1 a.m. Blankets were brought on deck^
and a pile of preserved meats, soups, and biscuits was in
readiness outside the companion to provision the boats,
which were lowered with tolerable promptitude to the
rail. A cordon of stewards passed buckets full of water
to quench an imaginary fire, and every preparation for
a disaster was made. The swarthy Lascars hurrying to
and fro in their red turbans and sashes gave the Suticj
the appearance of a ship in the hands of pirates.
January 2\st. — The ship's cat, the only animal except
the officers allowed on the bridge, is a most intelligent
creature. He has a thorough contempt for human beings.
A P. AND O. Log. 255
though perfectly polite to them. It is painful to remark
how they bore him. To be addressed as "poor pussy"
is almost too much for his manners. He walks away
with dignity, and takes refuge in one of the quarter-deck
boats, where he ponders over the comparative succulence
of the Shanghai mouse, the rat of the London Docks, and
the Sydney sparrow. Sometimes he honours a passenger
so far as to take possession of his deck-chair, but he
never allows the condescension to be made an excuse
for familiarity. As he sits upright on the quarter-deck,
with his tail stretched out behind him, he is the picture
of dignity. Some people might call him morose, but he
is not really so. His demeanour is that of a philosopher
surrounded by chimpanzees.
January 22nd. — There was a fragrance of spices and
flowers in the air this morning as we entered the Straits
of Malacca, and approached the island of Singapore. A
dozen canoes, each manned by a Malay boy, accom-
panied the Siitlej for some distance before she reached
the wharf. The dexterity of the boys in jumping in
and out without upsetting them and in divin'g for coins
is wonderful. They bale the water out with their hands
and feet, shouting out all the time, "Yes, sir! Yes, sir! '
alternately with "All right, sir! All right, sir!" the
only English phrases they have learnt.
The P. and O. wharf is on a little peninsula, which
runs out into the channel at the foot of a hill covered
\\'\\.\\ pineapples, and by 10 a.m. we were tied up to it.
The peninsula is covered with cocoanuts, travellers'
palms, fan palms, and mangoes with orchids growing
on them, and all kinds of bright flowers abound. Some
of the banks are hidden by masses of sensitive plant,
of which, if the stem be ever so gently touched, all
the leaves and tendrils seem to wither awa\'. A shady
lane leads to the highway on the mainland, and the
256 The Modern Odyssey.
town of Singapore is two miles distant. The road
crosses a series of tidal swamps, in which one or two
small hamlets are built. The houses are perched on
piles out of the reach of the water, and it is surprising
that any inhabitants survive to occupy them, for a
more unhealthy situation cannot be conceived.
Singapore is not an attractive place. The tropical
rains soon destroy the external decorations of the
houses, and the European town will not bear com-
parison with that of Kobe, Hongkong, or Shanghai.
The Anglican Cathedral is a building of some archi-
tectural merit, but the climate has given it a mottled,
uncared-for appearance. Flowers and trees are abundant,
and there is a good cricket-ground on the Bund. No
one, however, would stay longer than was necessary in
Singapore. The hotels are scarcely tolerable, and the
odours of the place are varied and plentiful. The chief
place of resort is the Botanic Garden. A military band
plays there once a month when the moon is full. On
one occasion an unexpected total eclipse brought the
music to an end. Everyone in Singapore now knows
that a lunar eclipse can only occur at the time of full
moon.
The prosperity of Singapore is shown by the
thronged streets and the number of ships at anchor
in the bay and moored to the wharves. Here India,
China, and Malaysia are welded by a European flux.
The Indian gJiarry and humped oxen are seen in the
streets; the jinrickshas are drawn by Chinese coolies;
the Malays are kept in check by policemen from the
Punjab ; and Europe is represented by German and
English merchants.
What a comfort it must be to live in a place where
the sun keeps regular hours ! Here in Singapore, only
a few degrees north of the equator, he rises and sets all
A P. AXD O. Log. 257
the year round within a minute or two of the same
hour.
Jamcary 2ird. — If the ladies who came on board the
Stitlej before she steamed away at 4 p.m., to say good-
bye to their friends and relations, are not selected
samples, then Singapore is inhabited by the most
beautiful and charming women in the whole wide
world ! It may be that we have lately seen too much
of the Chinese and Japanese style of beauty to be
critical. But it zvas a pleasure to be able to look upon
the lovely features of Mrs. Pressgrave, who came on
board for too short a time to see her brother, an Irish-
man in the Chinese navy on his way to England with a
Chinese crew for one of China's new ironclads. She
charmed us for a summer's afternoon, the most beau-
tiful flower in all Singapore ; and her perfect form and
bonny face made the Siitlej an enchanted ship.
O beautiful lady, if ever these lines meet your eye,
accept this little tribute to the witchery of your glorious
beauty ! Happy the traveller who has the good fortune
to have a stage in his journey made bright by your
presence !
January 24.th. — The Female Talking Machine left the
ship at Singapore, but the Male remains. Half-a-dozen
passengers came on board, and they are regarded by us
older travellers much as new boys are at school. They
wander around aimlessly, and do not know the ways cf
the ship ; but tlicy behave well.
January 25///. — All yesterday we were steaming
quietl)-down the Straits of Malacca, alwa\-s within sight of
land, and at sunrise this morning we anchored off George-
town, in the channel between the island of Penang and
the Malay Peninsula. The town is built on the shore, with
a range of wooded hills rising at the back of it. The
European cantonment is dclightfull)- placed in the midst
R
258 The Modern Odyssey.
of a grove of cocoanut palms. Hedges of prickly bam-
boo separate the compounds and run along the roads.
It is very pleasant to exchange the shade of deck
awnings for that of palms for a little while. A few
miles from the town a cascade falls from the hills, and
though it can be reached only by a long and dusty road,
it is worth the exertion. It falls almost perpendicularly
into a ravine, wherein all kinds of tropical flowers and
ferns grow luxuriantly ; the appearance of the spot is,
however, spoilt by a very ugly little pale-blue Buddhist
temple. The ravine opens into a valley, the head of
which has been cleared and converted into a public park,
whose green lawns and gravelled paths are bordered by
flowers that in England are seen only in hothouses.
The wooded hills encircle it on three sides, and on the
fourth it is bounded by a forest of palms and plantains,
under the shade of which the road approaches it. When
the Sutlej weighed at i p.m., a brief but pleasant visit to
Penang came to an end.
It is extraordinary to see the Malays at the jetty
basking in the almost vertical sun as though there were
no such thing as sunstroke in the world.
Jamiary 2bth. — -We passed Achccn, and entered the
Indian Ocean at mid-day. It is perfectly cahn, and
looks as though a typhoon or the monsoon had never
ruffled its surface. There is a peculiar gloss upon it,
and in colour it is a very lovley greyish violet, rather
paler than that of the Pacific.
Some mangosteens and durians were brought on
board at Penang. The former is a kind of orange of
most exquisite delicacy and flavour, a fruit which one
never seems to tire of eating. The durian is a subject
which causes great divergence of opinion. Some people
asy that it is the most disgusting and nauseous substance
that ever passes men's lips ; others that it is the only
A P. A.XD O. Log. 259
fruit worth eatin<T. All, however, agree in sayins:^ that
the shell must be broken and the seeds, which are
covered with a rich pulp, extracted in the open air, as it
exhales a very j)owerful odour, rescmblinij sewer ^as.
The taste of the pulp, which smells like rotten fish,
resembles a mixture of bad ei^gs with strong onions, but
this soon disappears from the palate, and is succeeded
by a flavour of strawberries and cream. Herein lies the
crucial test of the merits of the durian. Its admirers
assert that the earlier flavour is soon forgotten in the
later ecstasy ; its detractors say that the strawberry and
cream notion is all moonshine. The captain of the
Sutlej confesses that it took him sixteen years to learn
to appreciate the durian.
After dinner the chief engineer conducted a tourist
party through the most interesting part of the ship — the
stoke-hoid and the engine-room. To see the massive
cranks and rods moving so powerfully, yet so noiselessly
that it is hardly necessary to raise the voice, is an im-
pressive sight. Every part is perfectly clean, and the
metal-work is as bright as a mirror; and there is scarcely
a tremor on the platforms and gratings, although the
power of 4.000 horses is being exerted. The shaft-alley
is cool, and the shaft so highly polished that it is difficult
to .see whether it is revolving. Even the stokc-hold is
cleaner than might be expected ; and when we had been
almost cremated there, we adjourned to the refrigerating
room, where another engine churns the air into frost, and
where we made some snowballs !
When a modern mail steamer such as the Sntli/"\<, com-
pared with a ship of tiie last ccntur\-, it is remarkable to
find how very icw of the changes are due to the profes-
sional mariners. Almost all the improvements in ship
building, navig.ition, and propulsion have not onl\^ been
made by landsmen, but also ha\c been effected in spite
R 2
26o The Modern Odyssey.
of the sailors. The latter opposed the introduction of
steam, the use of chain cables and wire rigging, the fine
and hollow lines at the stem and stern now universal in
fast ships ; every chief point, in fact, in which the Suilej
differs from the packet-ship of the last century. A sailor
cannot point out any organic change in the method of
crossing the sea which has been introduced by one of
his own profession. If we had been dependent upon
him and his predecessors, we should probably now be
crossing the Indian Ocean in a kind of Noah's Ark.
January 28///. — The Indian Ocean has been so calm
ever since we left Penang that an outrigged racing
eight-oar might have crossed it in safety. They say
that, had it been the typhoon season, the lovely sunset
this evening would have indicated a change in the
weather ; but as the monsoon has still many weeks
to blow, there is no fear for to-morrow. As the sun
drooped to the sea, a lane of light no broader than
his diameter was thrown across the water. On the
horizon was a purple haze, which brightened into
crimson where it was pierced by the rays of the sunset;
and a golden sheen, tremulous with gentle undulations,
covered the ocean towards the west. When the sun
disappeared, the surface was almost as bright as ever,
and clearly marked the line which separated the still
glowing sky from the luminous water. The dark bank
upon the western wave grew darker as the sun sank
below it, and as it swept round the horizon to the
cast it appeared to merge itself in the ocean. Every
variety of purple, lilac, and sombre green tints was
painted upon the eastward surface, and on the side
of the sunset the mirror waves were bright with orange,
gold, and pale green, streaked here and there for a
moment by the tracks of the flying-fish ; and a solitary
cloud far away rose out of the water like an island.
A P. ,ixD O. Log. 261
Before even the brief twilight of the Tropics was over,
the moon rose in the east, and made the darkened
waves, still showing the hues they had lately borrowed
from the sunset, sparkle with her pale gold light.
Nothing can be compared to the exquisite loveliness
of the colours which fell from heaven upon the waves of
this lonely ocean, and never will the magical beauty of
that short hour be forgotten.
January 29//^. — Ceylon was in sight at daybreak this
morning, but a haze hid the features of the coast,
though Adam's Peak was visible above it. An Austrian
frigate steamed leisurely past us on her way to Madras
shortly before we reached Colombo. By i p.m. the
Sutlcj was moored inside the breakwater, in a line
with the Brindisi and the Britannia. Bumboats soon
swarmed round the ship ; crows perched upon the
rigging ; and Singhalese jewellers, with tortoiscshcll
combs and chignons on their heads, came up the side
and squatted on the deck. The Nepajil will not leave
for Calcutta until the end of next week, an interval
which must be spent in seeing as much as possible of
the Isle of Gems.
■X- •}«■ •}«■ -x- *
February \otJi. — The P. and O. Agency at Colombo
has been fully occupied for a day and a half in sending
out notices every iftw hours of the postponement of the
Xcpanl's departure for Calcutta, which various causes
have delayed. Shortly before noon, however, the
jewellers were cleared off the deck, and advised to
wait for the arrival of the next Australian mail
steamer ; and the ship steamed out to sea under a
cloudless sky. As the sun went down upon the shining
waves of the west. Point de Galle was abreast — the
only break we had seen in the forest of cocoanuts
which line the shore. The Xcpaul is not in her first
262 The Modern Odyssey.
youth, but she is fairly comfortable. Last year she
signalised the close of a jeunesse oragetcse by running
down a Chinese transport on the Yang-tsze-kiang, and
drowning twenty tons or so of Chinese soldiers.
Lately the Company has fitted her with the electric
light, like a mother who decks a passce daughter with
diamonds. In calm weather she is remarkably steady.
Among the passengers — a good average lot — is a
bridegroom with a banjo, of one day's seniority, who
is embarking almost at the same moment upon the
turbulent waves of the ocean and the equally turbulent
waves of matrimony.
February \2th. — Some of the hills on the Coromandel
coast came in sight soon after breakfast, and in an
hour the lighthouse and the towers of Madras rose
out of the horizon. Before noon the Nepaiil anchored
inside the breakwater, near the Austrian frigate Faisana,
which we had passed a fortnight ago in the SutUj. The
breakwater has recently suffered from the effects of a
typhoon, and it is hard to say whether it looks half-
destroyed or half-finished. For a part of its length
it resembles a line of rocks awash, and it affords little
real protection ; few ships, in consequence, frequent
Madras, which, though one of the largest cities in
India, has little maritime trade. An iron pier projects
into the haven enclosed by the arms of the break-
water. The rollers come in from the Bay of Bengal
through the gaps of the stonework, and there is almost
as much surf inside as outside.
Scarcely had the Nepanl been made fast to the buoy
when the kites pounced upon the ship. They are hand-
some birds, as fearless and as plentiful as crows in
Colombo. They were soon followed by other animals
of prey — the sellers of Madras embroidery and the
proprietors of performing birds ; and Masula boatmen
A P. AM) O. Log. 263
at once surrounded the steamer and touted for fares.
The Masula boat is a curious craft, used for landing
passengers through the surf which breaks ceaselessly
on the shallow Coromandel coast. It draws little water,
and has high sides of planks sewn together and made
partly watertight by an interior poultice of straw ; but
one of the crew of each boat is kept constantly em-
ployed in baling out the water that finds its way in
through the seams. Not a particle of metal is used,
Beams running from gunwale to gunwale serve both
as stretchers and as scats for the eight or ten rowers,
who shout and gesticulate like Frenchmen, and row
with oars having blades in the shape of a heart, while
the skipper stands up in the stern and steers with a
long oar. The boat touches the ground in the midst
of the surf, but the high sides prevent it breaking in-
board ; and the passengers are carried on shore on
the men's backs — an uncomfortable and undignified
way of landing for the first time in the splendid Empire
of India.
How often joy and sorrow come hand in hand to the
same spot ! Two women came out from England in the
Nepaul, one to join her husband, the other to be married.
One was met at the pier gates b)' her lover with a
marriage licence in his hand, the other by a messenger
from the Hospital to say that her husband had met with
an accident and was d\-ing.
I'ebruary \},th. — Madras, when seen froin a distance,
apjjears to be a handsome city. The Post Office, the
lighthouse, the churches, and some public buildings rise
above the roofs with good effect ; but disappointment is
the result of a closer ins])ection. Everything is brown:
the dust, tlie houses, and the jieoplc. There is little
activity in the streets, and the alternations of heat and
wet have left their mark on the weather-beaten walls.
264 The Modern Odyssey.
IMadras does not seem prosperous. Only the markets —
which are much inferior to those of Japan in cleanhness
and neatness, and in the manner in which the goods are
displayed so as to attract the eye — are at all crowded.
They contain few things of native manufacture, but are
full of cheap articles from England and Germany.
There is an air of the Sahara about the open spaces,
which even the sight of Madrassee boys playing at
cricket does not dispel. The capital of the Benighted
Presidency — whose time, however, is adopted as the
standard time of India — offers no allurements to detain
the traveller, who returns to his ship with glee.
Soon after tiffin the Nepaul steamed out of harbour.
The Bay of Bengal was calm, and in a very few hours
the coast was out of sight, except a few hills which
remained in view until sunset.
February i6th. — We passed the outer lightship at the
mouth of the Hughli yesterday morning, and anchored
after dark off Saugor Island, famous for tigers and
malaria. When the tide turned this morning, we
weighed and steamed up the muddy river, which seems
to contain a large proportion of the India peninsula in
solution. The low shores are hardly visible for some
distance above the mouth, but gradually the banks
approach and green growths appear, and the channel
becomes so narrow and tortuous that the steering engine
is constantly at work. In the reach below Diamond
H irbour wc met a fleet of outward-bound steamers and
magnificent four-masted sailing ships. Porpoises gam-
bolled in the water, and boats so piled up with straw
that they resembled floating haystacks drifted down
with the tide. Masts of sunken wrecks emerging from
tlic surface showed the peril of the river ; and a sand-
bank, bearing the thoroughly Oriental name of the
James and Mary Shoal, was pointed out. A short halt
A P. AND O. Log. 265
was made to discharge the Nepaiifs powder, and again
we stemmed the stream between shores lined with palms,
cotton trees red with flowers, and bamboo grass. The
sun was setting just as the anchor was let go in Garden
Reach, with the straggling palace of the King of Oude
on one side and the brilliant flowers of the Botanical
Gardens on the other. The voyage was over. The
Anglo-Indian, who during the voyage has been a
dictator acting in a vacuum, assumed fresh airs of
importance as his servants boarded the ship, and in
ordering them about in a loud voice reasserted the
suppressed authority which had been trying to escape
ever since he went on furlough to Europe.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE CITY OF PALACES.
Chance, more often than policy, chooses the position
of a country's metropoHs, with the result that the site of
Calcutta violates all the rules by which an intelligent
Romulus of the present day would be guided in found-
ing a great city. The capital of the Indian Empire lies
within the Tropics, in the north-east corner of Hindostan,
remote from the centre of gravity of the population, on
the banks of a minor channel of the delta through which
a sluggish river slowly percolates into the Bay of Bengal.
It is surrounded by a low and malarious district, fre-
quently devastated by cyclones; and the heat in summer
is so intense that Europeans cannot live in it during
several months of the year. In addition to these
physical drawbacks, Calcutta is peculiarly exposed to
the pernicious influence of a sect which has arisen
during the last few years. The Anglo-Indian has
ordinarily a mind of masculine fibre, not liable to be
unduly swayed by local public opinion, but there are
signs that it is wavering in presence of the Bengali
Baboo, an individual who, though weak in body and
lymphatic in temperament, has done what neither Sikhs,
nor Mahrattas, nor Afghans, nor Mahomedan and Hindoo
mutineers could do ; for he has almost succeeded in
making a portion of the British governing community,
both at home and in India, stand in awe of him.
The City of Palaces. 267
In a word, Calcutta has almost all the defects which
a capital can have. It is unhealthy, it is out of the way,
and it is subject to political malaria. All the arguments
are in favour of the removal of the seat of government
to some more central and salubrious station, and their
force has been partly acknowledged. Calcutta is still
the capital of India, but during the summer it is placed,
as it were, upon half-pay, and its duties are performed
by deputy. On a certain day in March the weather is offi-
cially declared to be hot. At that date, and no sooner,
punkahs are set up in the European barracks ; and the
governing hierarchy, having provided for the comfort of
the lower ranks of the British occupation, transfers itself
to a village in the Himalayas, and Calcutta is left to
blister in the sun.
Places as well as individuals can suffer injury through
inappropriate nicknames or fancy titles, and the person
who, whether in irony or in rhetorical exaggeration,
called Calcutta the City of Palaces, is mainly responsi-
ble for the discontent which the first sight of it usually
creates. The traveller who has pictured in his mind
a city of Oriental magnificence, and who expects to be
bewildered and astonished by edifices of grand pro-
portions and gorgeous architecture, wherein dispossessed
Kings and mediatised Maharajahs live lives of indolence
and luxury and intriguing Begums pass their time in
splendid captivity, will certainly be disappointed. Few
places realise the expectations that have been formed
through the means of common report, and Calcutta
is not one of them. Its sobriquet is known all over the
world, with the result that it is sometimes perhaps un-
justly disparaged. It is a handsome city of the Anglo-
Indian type, but no more. It is deficient in historical
and antiquarian interest, and Eastern splendour is
almost entirely absent from it.
268 The Modern Odyssey.
There is hardly a corner of the British Empire
which does not contain some remarkable object, either
civil, military, or ecclesiastical, designed by the Royal
Engineers. In India especially the versatility of the
Scientific Corps is more evident than its genius. The
Anglican Cathedral is an experiment in Gothic archi-
tecture by an Engineer officer, who also built the Mint)
in which he followed a classical model, the Temple of
Minerva on the Acropolis at Athens. The Cathedral
is not a pleasing structure, but it is well hidden by
trees. Government House is a range of yellow buildings
diversified with sage-green shutters, and surmounted
by a dome and the Royal Arms. It is massive rather
than ornamental, and its cleanly appearance is its most
noticeable point. The Law Courts, the Secretariat,
the Post Office, the Town Hall (where a native muni-
cipality learns the methods of self-government at the
expense of the patient city), and the Departmental
Offices are either edifices of the Whitehall and South
Kensington type, modified to suit the requirements
of a tropical climate, or examples of the simpler forms
of classical architecture. None of them possess a very
admirable or a very objectionable feature. The details
are usually elaborate, but the general effect is poor.
Many generations will pass by before the footmarks
of Addiscombe and Chatham in Hindostan can be
effaced, and they remain to bear witness to the standard
of artistic design which was accepted in England during
the first half of the nineteenth century. The work of
Cooper's Hill is of better quality and more pleasing
to the e}-c, but that institution has been too recently
established to effect an appreciable change for the
better in the style of the public buildings of India.
Eort William, which stands on the left bank of the
Ilughli, was intended to be a place of refuge for
The City of Palaces. 269
the European population in case of insurrection, and
it is connected with Government House by a sub-
terranean passage. liastions and ramparts, disposed
after Vauban's star-fish principle, enclose a spacious
area by the river-side. It is a complete military city.
The arsenal contains modern arms of all descriptions,
besides a park of antiquated artillery. A cricket-
ground is in the heart of the fortress, surrounded by
cool and airy barracks for several regiments ; and near
at hand is a small and ugly chapel, designed probably
by some Engineer officer who had once seen the chapel
of King's College at Cambridge. Fort William is too
modern to contain many objects of historical interest.
There are a few relics of the struggle for the posses-
sion of India between France and England in the
eighteenth century, and some Mahomedan standards
captured during the Mutiny. The remarkable absence
of other trophies — save a tribal banner or two, or a
mountaineer's matchlock — shows that though hardly
a year passed, in the period between the expulsion
of the French and the revolt of the Sepoys, in which
the gates of the temple of an Indian Janus would
have been closed, the British Empire in India was
never seriously endangered.
The Maidan or Meadow forms the esplanade of
Fort William. It is an open space, on which no per-
manent buildings are allowed to be erected ; and it is
flanked on one side by the river Hughli, and on the
other sides by barracks and public buildings and by
Chowringhee. Along the river face a fleet of the
finest sailing vessels that the world can show is con-
stantly moored. iMthough every new development of
naval architecture and mechanics tends to diminish
the beauty of the ships of the sea, here may be seen
vessels as handsome as anv that traversed the ocean
■2 'JO The Modern Odyssey.
before the boiler and the compound engine superseded
the taut mast and the studding-sail. A four-masted
sailing ship of the present day, with her fine lines and
gracefully moulded hull, is fully as beautiful an object
as any three-decked man-of-war of fifty years ago.
The Maidan is at once the playground and the pasture
of Calcutta. Cricket-grounds, football fields, lawn tennis
courts, bowling greens, and a racecourse are circum-
stantial evidence of the presence of the athletic and
sporting Anglo-Saxon. A broad drive, crowded at
sunset with carriages full of pale and languid English-
women and of Englishmen surmounted with the tall hat,
reproduces in its way the road opposite the Knights-
bridge Barracks in Hyde Park. Herds of draught cattle
browse on the Maidan turf; droves of donkeys assemble
under the mangoes ; syces lead the horses and polo
ponies of the ICnglish officers for exercise before the
sun is high ; and still earlier in the day the ground is
usually occupied by the garrison. White troops do
not always appear to advantage by the side of native
troops. The swarthy sowars of the Bengal Cavalry,
splendidly mounted and dressed in a picturesque
uniform, need not fear comparison with the Life
Guards of any Western Monarch. Too much white
helmet and too little private is the characteristic
of the British regiments in India ; while a l^engal
Lancer is, at least as far as appearance goes, an ideal
soldier.
Most of the statesmen and generals who helped to
establish or to maintain the British I'Lmpire in India are
represented by statues on the Maidan. Some of these are
meritorious works of art, as, for example, the equestrian
monument to Outram. On the other hand, the Ochter-
lony Column strongly resembles a factory chimney sur-
mounted by ornamental ironwork. The inscriptions on the
The City of Palaces. 271
pedestals, as well as the epitaphs in the cathedral — with
the exception of a few written by Macaulay — are deficient
in almost every quality that they should possess ; they
are bloated with epithets, and though exceedingly
diffuse, give neither a sufficient account of deeds nor a
clear impression of character. Dr. Johnson was probably
right in holding that monumental records should not be
expressed in the English language. The art of terse,
vigorous, and lucid writing, if it ever existed in Anglo-
India, has not been able to resist the enervating influence
of the circumlocutions and decorative phrases of the
native dialects. There is but one perfect epitaph in
Hindostan, and that is inscribed on the tomb of Law-
rence at Luckiiow.
On the side remote from the Hughli the Maidan is
bordered by Chowringhee, the Park Lane of Calcutta.
The houses are large, and appear to be handsome when
seen at a sufficient distance. Here the traveller thinks
that he has at last found the palatial abodes of the City
of Palaces. A nearer view dispels the illusion. Chow-
ringhee is but an architectural elephant, more remark-
able for dimensic^ns than for beauty. The houses are
built of brick, roughly covered with pink plaster. The
majority of them, however, are detached and surrounded
by gardens bright with tropical flowers and trees. The
Museum is the solitary stone edifice in Chowringhee, but
a subsidence in the treacherous alluvial soil has unfor-
tunatcl}' cracked it from roof to basement.
The hosi)itable pc)rtals of one mansion, which was
once the Indian home of Macaiila\', and is now occu[)ied
by the IJcngal Club, will be remembered with gratitude
by many winter visitors to Calcutta. It ma\- be imagined
that in a C(nm;ry where h^ngiishmen have for generations
compensated themselves for lengthy and, in former days,
often lifelong absence from their native land b\- ado];ting
2/2 The Modern Odyssey.
every available appliance of comfort and luxury, the
chief club will embody the experience of many thousand
Anglo-Indian sybarites ; and neither in Pall Mall nor
in Fifth Avenue will be found a better social establish-
ment of its kind than the Bengal Club. It is a redeem-
ing feature of Calcutta. It possesses an excellent
library ; and if the same drop of ink may, without
bathos, commend the curries, nothing more need be
said to show that it is an unrivalled institution, the
comforts and luxuries of which are not selfishly reserved
for the benefit of permanent members alone.
At the north-east corner of the Maidan are the Eden
Gardens, separated from the river by a broad drive.
They take their name from the family of a former
Governor-General, and are well laid out, carefully tended,
and lit by the electric light. There are a miniature lake
and shady walks among groves of tropical shrubs and
beds of flowers ; and a Hindoo pagoda in the centre is
covered with elaborate carving. A lawn on which a
band plays every evening at sunset occu[)ies a large
portion of the Gardens, which are the only outdoor
social rendezvous of Calcutta. The drive is blocked
with carriages full of Englishwomen, who languidly
listen to the strains of the music ; and the lawn inside
is covered with people sauntering to and fro, among
whom the natives are conspicuous from their brilliant
dresses and the English officers from the tall hats which
they are compelled to wear in public places. As the sun
goes down, the western sky glows with colour, varying
from an incarnadine tinge to a deep rich red, and falling
with magical effect upon the throng. In a little while
all is changed, for the twilight of the Tropics lasts but a
few minutes. The pale stars overhead come forth, and
soon all that is left of the day is a faint streak on the
horizon beyond the palms on the further bank of the
The City of Palaces. 273
river. The rosy electric light suddenly sparkles upon
the lawn, and the crowd increases. When the National
Anthem has been played, everyone is seized with a
desire to get away as soon as possible, and the swarm
disappears almost in an instant.
The flat roofs of Calcutta give the city a somewhat
forbidding appearance ; nor will the time occupied in
exploring the remoter quarters be well spent, as there
are few places of interest except in the neighbourhood
of the iMaidan. The chief of these are the Burning
Ghat and the Botanical Gardens. The latter extend
for a mile along the right bank of the Hughli at Garden
Reach, some distance below the Maidan, and contain
some magnificent palms, as well as the well-known
Banyan Tree, which is rather a grove than a single
tree, as it covers nearly an acre of ground. On the
opposite side of the river is the palace of the King
of Oude. It is quaint in appearance, but has no archi-
tectural merit. A pit of live snakes in one of the
courts is an extraordinary sight. The whims of Eastern
potentates are often as astonishing as the triumphs and
reverses of their lives. The titular monarch of Delhi
once added to his collection of animals a Polar bear,
which did not long survive its rerioval to a tropical
climate.
The Burning Ghat is on the left bank of the Hughli,
above the Howrah Bridge. The ceremony of cremation,
which excites so much unreasonable abhorrence in
I'^ngland, is performed every evening in a small roofless
building with high walls, and often in the presence of
travellers from all countries in search of a new expe-
rience. The bod}- is placed in the centre of a pile of
resinous logs, and the flames, which rise above the walls
and flicker weirdly on the stream, are sufficiently intense
to burn the corpse without allowing much effluvium to
274 The Modern Odyssey.
escape. Friends and relations are grouped round the
pyre, ready, when all is over, to cast the ashes into the
sacred river. Higher up the stream the ceremony is
performed in a ruder manner. The poor Hindoo cannot
afford the pomp and luxury of the Burning Ghat ; often
he is unable even to buy fuel enough for complete
cremation. The body is brought down to the muddy
banks of the Hughli, and laid upon a smouldering fire
hardly sufficient, in many cases, to singe it ; but so long
as a morsel of sandal wood, be it ever so small, is flaming
upon the dead, the function is satisfied. The rich man's
pyre is constructed wholly of this wood. The corpse,
which is often only charred at the extremities, is placed
in the water. Sometimes it floats away ; sometimes it
is brought back by the pariah dogs, and hacked by the
vultures. Sick persons are carried to die by the water's
edge ; and die they must, under penalty of losing their
caste. It is hardly probable that recovery should occur
on such a bed of sickness as the mud of the Hughli, but
the attendants take steps to avert such a calamity.
The variety of headgear in Calcutta is a curious
feature of the place. From the chimney-pot hat through
all the gamut of military and civilian helmets there are
specimens enough to stock a museum. The introduction
of the tall black hat into India is a good example of
fashion and custom prevailing against comfort and
utility, for of all coverings for the head it is the least
suited to a tropical climate. A pith hat can assume
almost as many forms as a lady's bonnet. One kind is
shaped like a mushroom, another resembles a pumpkin
sliced longitudinally, while a third is a replica of a pilot's
sou'-wester or of the headgear of a coal-heaver. This
tendency should be carefully kept in hand, for a man
has so much to be thankful for in the simplicity of his
dress, and its freedom from constant liability to change
The City of Palaces. 275
when compared with a woman's, that if he is wise he
will beware of showing any originahty in the adornment
of his person.
The East Indian Railway, which is the main artery
of Hindostan, was projected and begun more than forty
years ago. It is now complete, and extends from the
terminus at Ilowrah, a transpontine suburb of Calcutta,
to Delhi, the former Mogul capital. The traffic is heavy
and the prosperity of the company a few years ago was
so great that the covetous eyes of the Indian Govern-
ment, always in search of means to relax the tension of
taxation, fell upon it, and it was virtually acquired by
the State. The management was, however, left in the
hands of the company, which was permitted to retain a
small portion of the surplus profits in order that the
efficient and economical administration of the line might
be encouraged.
The bargain is a remarkable example of the moral
condition of the official mind. When the Secretary, of
State announced that the ownership of the railway was
about to be assumed by the Government, he explained
the reasons why it was not advisable to undertake the
executive control of it. He confessed, with cynical
candour, that a non-official body is placed in a more
favourable position for carrying on an undertaking than
a Government Department, because the latter is exposed
to the interference of public opinion, more especially in
its relations with and its treatment of its servants. A
mere railway company possesses enough vis incrtics
and obstinacy to resist external pressure, and is not
burdened with feelings to which appeal can be made.
When the weight of moral responsibility is distributed
over a corporate body it sits very lightly on the shoulders
of each individual. On the other hand, a State institu-
S 2
2/6 The Modern Odyssey.
tion is liable to become the favourite target of political
theorists and philanthropists, who are often too persistent
and influential to be disregarded. Briefly, the Indian
Government refrained from assuming the management
of the railway because it could not afford to work it
with and did not dare to work it without a conscience ;
and the surplus profits still paid over to the share-
holders are, in fact, the penalty paid by the Indian
Government for its release from the natural obligations
of its position.
Indian railways are comfortable, though not luxu-
rious. All the carriages are constructed so as to afford
sleeping accommodation at night ; and if they cannot be
compared to Pullman or Mann cars, they are more roomy
and airy than English first-class carriages. The stop-
pages are frequent, and the trains run at a very moderate
speed, though the country is generally level. Early in
the morning, soon after sunrise, a sufficient halt is made
for chota Jiasri, or the Little Breakfast of tea and toast
which ushers in the Indian day. In all the chief stations
there are bath-rooms, and in some sleeping accom-
modation may be obtained. In no other hot country is
travelling less fatiguing and irksome. If the journeys
are sometimes longer than they need be, the racket and
jolting of a European express are thereby avoided. In
many of the station restaurants really excellent meals
are provided. The dust of travel may be washed off as
often as necessary without leaving the train, as the
majority of the carriages are fitted with shower-baths,
and during the hot season they are cooled artificially.
Bells are not used, but a rail suspended within the
station is struck with a hammer, and gives out a deep
and rather musical sound, in every way preferable to the
shrill clamour Vv-hich elsewhere announces the arrival or
the departure of a train.
The City of Palaces. 27
To accommodate the various European and native
castes, four classes run on many of the railways, differ-
ing so widely in fare that the expense of travelling in
the highest is seven times greater than the expense of
travelling in the lowest class, which is about one farthing
a mile. The railway is popular with the natives, and
all the carriages of the lower classes are crowded. Time
is not a valuable thing in the East, and the people make
sure of travelling in a certain train by arriving at the
station several hours before it is due. They bivouac
in the entrance-halls and waiting-rooms, which at night
are often rendered impassable by the prostrate forms
of the natives. The space is further curtailed by the
vendors of local manufactures or curiosities, who are
allowed to display their wares upon the platforms. It
is not unusual during the hot weather to see the body of
a cholera victim taken out of the train, and coffins are
kept in readiness at many stations for the grim episode.
Some of the arrangements are annoying to a traveller
accustomed to the prompter service of English or Ameri-
can railways. Division of labour is an excellent thing:
when not carried too far it is the principle of successful
industry; but when half a dozen coolies must be engaged
to handle as much baggage as an English porter with
his truck would remove in half the time, the advantages
of the system disappear, A native porter considers that
both his own dignity and that of his employer are com-
promised if he exerts himself too much. A light burden
suits the former, and a long train of attendants is essen-
tial to the rank of the latter. The English traveller is re-
garded as a money-distributing machine. As the bhisti
sprinkles the drops of water upon the parched roads and
precipitates the dust, so does the Sahib refresh the poor
coolie with a gracious flow of annas and pyce.
A long railway journey is a trying ordeal to every-
2/8 The Modern Odyssey.
one, but it is peculiarly detrimental to a class who,
perhaps from no fault of their own, can least afford
to subject themselves to its baneful effects. The
touch-and-go beauty, the precarious attractions of
Anglo-Indian women require perfect repose and many
artifices of the toilette, which are impracticable in a
railway carriage, for their effectual preservation. It is
a really pitiable sight to see English ladies emerging
in the early morning for chota hazri, pale, haggard,
and untidy, after a night in the train. Somehow they
have not the knack, possessed by most Englishwomen
of the upper classes at home, of looking fresh and
charming under the most unfavourable conditions.
The history of the towns and villages through which
the train passes during the first hour after leaving Cal-
cutta is almost the history of European colonisation in
India. It is a far cry from Denmark to Hindostan,
and the disproportion of the countries is great, yet the
Danes, who had once achieved the conquest of Britain,
maintained their early renown for maritime adventure
by ascending the Hughli before the close of the seven-
teenth century ; and Serampore, a few miles from
Calcutta, was Danish territory until it was acquired
by Great Britain little more than forty years ago.
The warehouses of Scandinavian merchants are still
standing on the banks of the Hughli, and there was a
time when more than a score of Danish ships stemmed
the current of the river in nine months. Two hundred
years ago the Great Mogul granted the right of settle-
ment on the banks of the Hughli to the subjects of
the Grand Monarque. Chandernagore, the City of Sandal
Wood, still belongs to France, and is one of the few
living remnants of the Indian Empire which France
succeeded in establishing but failed to maintain. It
has always been easily taken during the wars with
The City of Palaces. 279
France, and always contemptuously restored at the
conclusion of peice. To make Chandernagore the
metropolis of India was a dream of Dupleix, and it
had thousands of brick houses while Calcutta was
still a collection of mud hovels whither Clive was soon
destined to turn the course of Empire.
Three centuries and a half have elapsed since the
Portuguese came to Hughli, the "reedy" spot from
which the river takes its name, but they disappeared
within the term of some men's lives, just at the time
when Queen Elizabeth was signing the charter of the
East India Company. At Chinsura another nation
has added to the list of colonial failures. The Dutch
have been for centuries the pilot-fish of Europe. They
show the way to the prey and then retire. In North
America and South Africa, in Ceylon and Australia,
Dutch names and remains testify to the nationality of
the early explorers, but except in the Malay archi-
pelago, where the Dutch possessions are of recent
acquisition and of precarious tenure, Holland has no
colony of importance. The escutcheons of the old
Dutch governors are still hanging up in the church of
Chinsura, but the town has been incorporated in the
British Empire for more than sixty years. Thus in
an area of a few square miles near Calcutta are found
the colonial relics of four nations, one of which was
a great military power, and two others were distin-
guished for commercial enterprise. Yet the footmarks
left by them in Bengal have been almost obliterated
by the masterful, overbearing, relentless, and despotic
genius of Great Britain.
Though the motto of an Indian railway is Festina
lente, and though Time is a drug and a thing made
for slaves in Asia, it was thought desirable to shorten
the distance between Calcutta and the Xorth-W'cst by
28o The Modern Odyssey.
constructing the Chord Line through a range of hills
rising out of the plain of Bengal, as the original main
line, which was built at a time when engineers stood
more in awe than they do now of the physical features
of a country, makes a detour to avoid the high ground,
and follows the banks of the river. When the train has
descended the northward it re-enters the plain of the
Ganges, and many a long mile must be traversed before
another hill will be seen. Yet the journey does not seem
monotonous to a European newly arrived in India.
Lower Bengal is one of the most densely populated
parts of the world, and even from the window of a
railway carriage it is possible to observe some of the
conditions of existence in an Indian agricultural district.
The labourer may be seen at work in the fields with
his rude implements, and the cottage he lives in, the
plants and flowers that meet his eye, the plumage of
the birds that fly around him may be noted with
interest. Even a fugitive glimpse of child -life may
be caught when the children are seen playing in the
sun or staring and shouting at the passing train.
The rivers flowing from the south into the Ganges
are crossed by bridges which at first sight appear un-
necessarily long ; but at certain seasons the full width
of the bed is occupied by the water, though the latter,
for the greater part of the year, is a mere rivulet mean-
dering between sandbanks. P'ields of poppies grow by
the side, and palms rise above the undergrowth. Villages
of sun-dried mud roofed over with pale red tiles are
scattered over the plain, and every few miles the train
passes through a white station which gleams like snow
in the sunlight. The soil is carefully cultivated, though
the husbandry lacks the extreme neatness seen in Japan.
Parrots and jninars perch upon the telegraph wires and
watch the passing carriages with unconcern. Trees are
The City of Palaces. 281
abundant, and if some details, such as the cactus hedges
and the poppy fields, are excluded, the landscape will
not be found to differ so much as might be expected
from a level district in Central Europe. A bend in the
Ganges, never very far distant, often brings a reach of
that river into view. The sun beats down upon the
fields, and no cloud intercepts his rays or variegates the
plain with the light and shade which would make the
brilliant scene less wearisome to the eye.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE PILGRIMS' CITY.
There are many large cities within a day's journey of
Benares, but the Brahmins say that it is 80,000 miles
nearer heaven than any other place. They say also that
the houses are built of gold and adorned with jewels,
but that, owing to the film which covers mortal eyes, the
splendour cannot be discerned by men.
It is the hope of every pious Hindoo that he may
die in the sacred city and that his ashes may be cast
into the Ganges. Benares is to him what Mecca is to
the Mahomedan ; and as in the case of friends or rela-
tions our love for them is quickened by the trials and
sufferings they may have undergone, so is the Hindoo's
veneration for Benares increased by the vicissitudes
through which it has passed. Although the eclipse of
Brahminism by Buddhism lasted fifteen centuries, the
latter was finally expelled into Western Asia, and the
older religion was restored in Hindostan with Benares as
its chief centre, from which it has not been displaced.
It had not, however, been firmly re-established before it
was attacked by another religious enemy. The followers
of Mahomet followed the footsteps of Alexander the
Great with more signal success. The new foe by
which Brahminism was threatened was far more
dangerous than the mild and philosophic Buddhism,
for it was a host of wild, hardy, and fanatical soldiers,
Thi-: Pilgrim^ City. 283
urofed forward by desire of conquest and plunder no less
than by religious zeal. Twice Benares was sacked by
victorious Mahomedan troops, who attacked it because
it was the centre of Hindoo life. On the first occasion,
towards the end of the twelfth century, the city was
looted, its magnificent buildings were destroyed, and a
thousand temples were thrown down.
Two hundred years after, the Emperor Aurungzebe,
though, as his ancestors had done before him, he made
use of Hindoo troops as a matter of policy, repaid their
services by attacking their religion. He exacted a poll-
tax, a peculiarly hateful impost, from the inhabitants of
Benares, and allowed his elephants to trample under
foot the members of a deputation who prostrated them-
selves before him and pleaded for relief He took
advantage of the incident still further to insult his
Hindoo subjects. He razed the lately restored temples,
using the images as steps for the faithful to tread on
their way up to the Mosque which he erected with its
proud minarets overlooking the disgraced city ; and he
left no means untried by which he could show his hatred
of the ancient religion. It seemed as though it could
never survive the degradation.
But better times were coming. Aurungzebe's atten-
tion was drawn off by an unexpected enemy. He heard
the English merchant adventurers pounding at the gate
of India. They came accidentally to the aid of
Hindooism at the moment of its greatest peril, and
proved to be the unconscious instrument of its preser-
vation. The Emperor tried to humble them as he had
lately humbled the Hindoos. He soon found, however,
that he was confronted b)' an enemy scanty indeed in
numbers, but possessed of great resources and indomit-
able resolution. Though he had subdued and humiliated
many millions of Hindoos, he could not drive out a
284 The Modern Odyssey.
handful of strangers from the West who had founded a
trading colony on the Hughli. In a few generations
Benares had passed away from the Mahomedan dynasty
and had become subject to the king of an island in a
distant ocean ; and Brahminism, for the first time for
more than two thousand years, reasserted itself without
molestation in its ancient capital.
Although the annexation of Benares to the British
Empire, like many other episodes in early Anglo-Indian
history, was not an act which reflects honour upon the
statesmen by whom it was effected, it is easy to judge
them too harshly. It is as unjust to measure public men
except by the moral standard of the age they live in as
it is to try a criminal under an ex parte facto statute. It
is the age rather than the men which should be blamed.
All we can expect of them is not to offend against the
contemporary feeling with respect to moral obligations.
Perhaps, when the twentieth century shall have run half
its course, it may be thought a disgraceful act for a
public man to appeal from law to ochlocracy, to excite
class prejudices by flattering the people, and to make
specious promises to ignorant multitudes in the hope of
obtaining their suffrages.
Although Benares became once more the metropolis
of Hindooism, the ancient places of worship were not
restored. Myriads of pilgrims flock to the city every
year, but the hundreds of temples and shrines which it
contains are all modern and insignificant. Few of them
are worth a visit, and owing to the sanctity in which
the Hindoos hold certain animals they are often re-
pulsively filthy and squalid. Dogs and brown apes play
about in the courts and on the walls of the Temple of
Durga, and scramble up the steps of the tank for the
sweetmeats which every visitor is expected to give them.
A passage through narrow and unclean alleys and a
The Pilgrims' City. 285
dirty flight of steps lead to the opening overlooking the
court of the Golden Temple. It is not a gorgeous edifice
of marble and gold such as might have been looked for
in India, but a little building with two spires and a
copper-gilt dome. In an adjoining court is the Gyan
Bafi or Well of Knowledge, into which the idol Bishcsh-
war is said to have cast itself in terror at the approach
of Aurungzebe — the Hindoo version of the more probable
story that the iconoclastic Emperor himself caused the
image to be thrown into the well. The pilgrim's offering
of rice and flowers is laid upon the cover, and much of
it falls into the water ; yet though the latter is putrid
with decaying matter, the devotee eagerly swallows the
portion doled out by the priest. The water of the holy
Ganges forms part of the votive gift of each worshipper.
It is poured indiscriminately on niches, images, and
platforms, and makes every part of the temple slimy and
disagreeable to the senses both of sight and smell.
But the Golden Temple is not the dirtiest in Benares.
That rank is held by the Temple of Annapurna, often
called the Cow Temple. The main entrance is closed to
strangers, but by the condescension of the Brahmins
they arc admitted by the passage through which the
sweepings are carried out. The court of the temple
is little better than a cattle-shed. Mere, as in the
Golden Temple, the extreme of fanatical degradation
ina\' be witnessed. Cows and bulls chew the marigold
garlands offered reverently by the pilgrims, who kiss
the beasts and brush their own faces with the sacred
tails. Xo London slum is half so filthy and disgust-
ing as these Brahmin sanctuaries. Repulsive images
and emblems in the interior are matched by the hideous
deformities of the beggars outside. Some of the shrines
are artistic, but the pleasure of seeing them is destroyed
by their surroundings. The temples are built on the
286 The Modern Odyssey.
same model. There is a small cloistered court enclosing
a shrine standing in the centre. The shrine is open on
three sides, and on the fourth there is usually an alcove
with an image in front, surmounted by a spire or dome.
Each spire is formed of a cluster of smaller spires, rising
one above the other in the figure of a pyramid. The
priests have no distinctive dress or mark, but they
can be distinguished from the miserable crowd of wor-
shippers by their sleek appearance and their persistent
begging. They batten on the pilgrims' backshish, and
seem to be the only members of the native community
who enjoy a sufficiency of food. Annapurna is the
goddess who is believed to preserve her votaries from
hunger, and her shrine is therefore popular with beggars,
but she appears to give a monopoly of her favour to her
priests.
The traveller who has seen the Golden Temple and
the Cow Temple leaves them without the slightest wish
to explore the remaining fourteen hundred temples of
Benares, a city which is reckoned to possess no less than
half a million divinities, who considerably outnumber the
population. With scarcely an exception the temples are
deficient in artistic and antiquarian interest. The Moslem
sword had cut too keenly. They are a phase in Hindoo
religious life and no more, and as such they are worth
visiting once. Few persons will care to return through
the mean alleys, jostled by fanatics and elbowed by de-
formities, to the unclean courts where malignant deities
are propitiated and where human beings, cattle, and
idols are mingled in one crowd. It is not as though
the architecture, the proportions, or the decoration of the
edifices were worthy of great admiration. No pleasur-
able sensation is excited, but only abhorrence. ^n
magnificence, order, and beauty the 13uddhist Temples
of Japan stand out in noble contrast to the condition of
m^
The Pilgrims' City. 287
the holy places of the religion which expelled Buddhism
from its cradle on the Ganges, and are typical of the
purity of one religion when compared with the other.
The Temple of Bhaironath is usually visited. It was
built little more than half a century ago, and its solitary
feature of interest is the personage to whom it is dedi-
cated. Benares has from time immemorial been under
the protection of Bhaironath, a useful deity entitled
the Kotwal — an office combining the duties of a
police magistrate with those of a mounted constable.
He patrols the city riding on a dog, and therefore dogs
are not only admitted to, but even fed in his temple.
It might be objected that this peculiarity would
make him somewhat conspicuous, and that he would
be scarcely more efficient in ferreting out crime than
a London detective. He and his dog, however, are
endowed with the unique power of making themselves
invisible, and he is thus placed at the head of his
profession. An invisible policeman is the perfection
of criminal law.
If the Hindoo fanes of Benares are calculated to
excite disgust rather than admiration, the appearance
of the city itself when seen from the south is superb.
The physical advantages of its position have been
developed to the utmost. It is an ideally composed
picture. Benares is built on the heights overhanging
the left bank of the Ganges, where the river bends
towards the east in a curve of wide radius. Ghats or
flights of steps, many of them creeled by princely
pilgrims of India, lead up from the water to the higher
ground, and the roofs of the palaces on the shore reach
almost to the same level. The hillside and the brink
are covered with massive buildings of stately eleva-
tion, somewhat marred by the subsidence of the soil,
which has thrown many of them out of the per-
288 The Modern Odyssey.
pcndicular. The river flows silently at the base of
the amphitheatre ; the walls rise out of the water ;
and the sky-line on the edge of the hill is broken by
the domes of the shrines and by the minarets of the
Mosque which Aurungzebe built on the site of Vish-
nu's Temple. The Mosque is on the east side of the
city, and stands on a platform at the summit of a
ghat of a hundred steps. The building is plain, but
it is redeemed from poverty of appearance by the tall,
slender minarets soaring far above the flat roofs of
the houses. From the pinnacle of the southern minaret
— the other is considered dangerous, and is therefore
closed — a very fine view of the city and the river is
obtained. A stone can almost be dropped into the
Ganges far below. Parrots, pigeons, swallows, and
crows hover around and perch on the crevices and
sun themselves on the ridges. The cries of the city are
subdued, and reach the height with a mellowed sound ;
and the bright robes of the people clustered on the
riverside or ascending and descending the ghats give
animation to the scene.
The absence of chimneys and the flat roofs make the
city appear peculiarly massive, and the scenic effect is
heightened by the lack of traffic on the river and of
habitations on the further .shore. Benares is the most
magnificent city in the world, and there is no time
when it does not charm the eye. When the morning
sun falls upon it, the steep river-bank, covered with
ghats and palaces, gleams in tl\e golden rays tliat fly
across the plain from the east ; and when the sun set-
ting behind the hill crowns it with a brilliant sky, which
is reflected in the calm ^\■aters of the Ganges, the
dark city looms out between the bright river and the
brighter heavens with extraordinary grandeur.
The Hindoos regard bathing as a religious act. The
The Pilgrims' City. 289
ablution of the body removes the impurities of the soul,
which is almost the only harmless symbolic rite in their
religion. But every person is not at once fit to bathe in
the holy waters of the Ganges. A stranger is not per-
mitted to enter the river until he has first purified
himself in the fetid waters of the Manikarnika Well,
which to all appearance retains the taints and dis-
tempers left behind by many generations of pilgrims.
In the early morning the ghats are crowded with
bathers, and the throng is so dense that in some places
little piers of bamboo have been built out into the river
to relieve the press. On these and in the water stand
men, women, and children. Some of them may be seen
scooping up the mud from the river-bed and using it
as soap ; others content themselves with taking up the
water in their brass vessels and pouring it over their
heads and clothes. A father may be seen with a child
in his arms and teaching him to say his prayers to the
sacred stream, and so intently occupied with his de-
votions that he takes no notice of a boatful of English
travellers drifting down within a few feet of him. Close
by is another man who is sensually rejoicing in the water
as the greatest luxury of a hot climate. Ever}- few feet
along the banks a priest is stationed under a straw
parasol to receive the alms which the grateful people
give for the privilege of bathing in the Ganges. The
Panchganga Ghat is the most po[HiIar resort of the
bathers. Its name implies that it is situated at the
meeting place of the five rivers — Dhutapapa, Jarnanada,
Kirnanadi, Saraswati, and Ganges. Of these only the
latter has a real existence. The others are either streams
of the imagination or are not discernible to e}'es that
cannot see the gold of which Benares is built.
Life and Death are huddled together with strange
unconcern on the riverside. In the midst of the uproai'
T
290 The Modern Odyssey.
of the bathing ghats is the inarghat, the dusty corner
reserved for the cremation of the Hindoos. No boundary
sets it apart from the rest of the bank ; no emblem
stands to signify its pecuHar use. Close by the boats
moored to the shore receive their cargoes ; within a few
yards the people are hurrying carelessly along the
streets. The bodies, wrapped in white or red shrouds
according to the sex, are dipped in the sacred river, and
then placed under a roughly built arch of wood. A
funeral official, taken from the caste of Doms, walks
three times round the pyre, and applies fire under the
head of the corpse, and in a short time the ashes or the
charred trunk — for complete cremation is a ceremony
only attainable by the rich, as it involves an expenditure
of five rupees at least — are ready to be cast into the
Ganges. The Hindoo bathing in the river hardly turns
his head towards the sight, though it may be that the
fire is consuming the body of some friend or relation ;
and the only spectators, albeit men are passing to and
fro almost within reach of the flames, are probably
travellers from the West. The sole memorials of the
dead on the viargJiat are the small stone tablets com-
memorating widows who suffered by Suttee — the most
incomprehensible form of self-sacrifice, now prohibited
by law.
As the city recedes from the river the population
becomes less dense, the streets grow wider, and the
smells which may be recognised as akin to the odours
of Canton are more diluted with clear air. Small houses
built of thin bricks take the place of the stone mansions
and palaces ; and wells, from which the water is drawn
in buckets of hide by bullocks working on an inclined
plane, are seen in the open spaces. Oblong tanks sur-
rounded by steps of masonry are not unfrequent, and
room is found for a garden here and there. A shrine in
The Pilgrims' City. 2cji
the suburbs to which the European traveller always finds
his way is the Palace of the Maharajah of Vizianagram. It
is an Oriental building furnished in the style of a Brighton
lodging-house. The walls are hung with well-known
sporting prints, and among the pictures is the coloured
plate of the uniforms of the British army seen in every
tailor's shop in London. Dishes of wax fruit lie upon
the tables ; glass chandeliers, with the usual tinkling
prisms, hang from the ceiling ; and at the end of the hall
stands a mechanical orchestra. The rough model of a
rigged ship's mast and rigging, such as may be seen on
the Esplanade or Marine Terrace of an English sea-side
town, stands in the courtyard. It is a pity that the
Europeanising proclivities of the Indian princes are not
more intelligently directed. Yet perhaps we are the
last persons who should find fault. A traveller from
India who saw the miscellaneous collection of Indian,
Chinese, and Japanese ornaments in the drawing-rooms
of London indiscriminately surrounded by aesthetic wall-
papers, Queen Anne furniture, and the photographs of
the period, would have probably more reason to com-
plain of want of true artistic feeling. To the Maharajah
of Vizianagram Benares is indebted for the Town Hall,
a building in which the Gothic style has been combined
with the Hindoo. The guide-books, with kindly forbear-
ance, do not give the name of the architect.
At Sekrole, half-way between Benares and Sarnath,
are European cantonments of the usual type. High-
roofed bungalows are surrounded by compounds more
or less tidy, and a network of excellent roads intersects
the settlement. The Church and the Racket Court are
conspicuous and ugly objects. An air of orderly dulness
pervades the place.
It is a relief to turn aside from the Hindoo Temples
to the relics of a purer faith. Though many centuries
T 2
292 The Modern Odyssey.
have passed by since Buddhism was expelled from India,
the monuments of the still more distant period when it
was dominant in Benares remain. Formerly the city
stood away from the river at a distance of some miles
from its present position. At Sarnath not only the ruins
of the more ancient Benares may be seen, but also the
tower which was erected to commemorate the promul-
gation of the law by Buddha. The former are shapeless
masses of brickwork cropping out of the soil, but the
Dhamek Tower is in fair preservation. Sarnath is
reached by a pleasant road passing through orchards
of mangoes, guavas, and custard apples, and by the side
of fields of indigo and sugar cane, and shaded in many
places by caclinars — trees which are covered in spring
with a beautiful purple flower resembling an azalea.
A clay lane leads from the main road to the Dhamek,
which is a solid cylinder of brickwork not unlike a
martello tower. The upper portion was apparently
never finished. The lower portion is encased in stone
slabs covered with ornamentation, much of which
remains. Geometrical patterns and carved flowers
encircle the tower in alternate courses, and the curve
of the exterior is relieved by eight projections pierced
by niches for the reception of images. The designs are
worthy of reproduction. The lines and channels of the
triangles and other figures are sharp and carefully cut,
and the contrast of the formal patterns with the sculp-
tured leaves and petals is particularly effective. As an
example of honest workmanship fittingly adorned by
Art the Dhamek Tower might be usefully studied by
modern builders. In it simplicity and strength arc
seen suitably embellished ; and though many centuries
of neglect and exposure in a district peculiarly subject
to political and religious turmoil have made it a ruin,
it still bears witness to the constructive genius and
TiiR Pilgrims' City. 293
artistic instinct of the remote period of its erection,
which is probably anterior to the time when the in-
habitants of Britain were dyeing themselves with woad
and living in rude huts on the edges of the forests.
Though the Dhamck Tower is a monument of the early
teaching of Buddha, the Hindoos soon adopted it as an
object of adoration, and they have honoured it by
affixing patches of gold plate and gold leaf to the orna-
mental courses. A modern explorer of the Royal
Engineers attacked it characteristically by driving a
tunnel through the base, which has become a refuge
for cobras and bats.
The tower is surrounded by ruins. The chapel and
cells of what was apparently a Buddhist monastery can
be distinguished in the deoris, and a well in which
Buddha bathed still exists. The establishment seems
to have been suddenly attacked and burnt by a hostile
faction. The condition of the cells when first examined
showed that the monks were surprised in the midst of their
daily occupations, with the articles of common use and
ornament around them, and overwhelmed in a moment.
At a distance of half a mile from the Dhamek is the
Chandauki Tower, standing on a mound of bricks which
are the remnants of another Buddhist monument. The
tower itself is comparatively modern, as it was erected
to commemorate the visit of a Mogul Emperor. The
summit of tlic mound is at a height sufficient to alTord a
good view of the surrounding country. It is a pleasant
prospect in the spring, before the sun has scorched the
land and changed the green shoots into the sere leaf.
All around are fields of careful husbandry, dotted over
with clumps of mangoes ; and to the south the domes
and minarets of l^cnarcs, standing abo\-c the plain on
the ridge which skirts the Ganges, appear over the in-
tervening foliage.
294 The Modern Odyssey.
India has contributed many startling chapters to
history, but has never produced a historian ; and if we
were dependent upon native writers for information, the
origin and purpose of the Dhamek Tower would be
obscure. It happened, however, that in the fourth
and seventh centuries Benares was visited by Chinese
pilgrims ; and these. Fa Hian and Hiousen Thsang
by name, anticipated the modern traveller's excellent
habit of writing an account of his travels, and handed
down to posterity almost all that is now known on
the subject ; and had it not been for them, there is no
saying to what wild speculations about Sarnath Indian
arch^eolosfists mig-ht not have committed themselves.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE CITY OF THE SIEGE.
LUCKNOW — or, as the Anglo-Indian pedants prefer to
style it, Laknao — formerly the rococo capital of the
upstart Kings of Oude, a dynasty which dates back
no further than the second quarter of the eighteenth
century, and which lasted with little renown until the
time of the Mutiny, may be regarded either as a large
Eastern city or as the scene of a notable event in the
military history of Great Britain. The latter aspect
has naturally the greater interest for an Englishman..
Lucknow as a war memorial would reflect honour upon
any army. No arch of triumph adorning the boulevard
of a European city ; no trophy of victory cast from
captured artillery, inscribed with the names of victorious
generals, and erected by the victors on the battlefield,
speaks so eloquently of valour and self-denial as the
dumb walls and palaces of Lucknow. The merit of a
victory should be measured by the disproportion of the
forces rather than by their numbers. Lucknow is the
Marathon, the Thermopylae of the British Army, and
is worthy to be compared with them ; and such battles
as Austcrlitz, Waterloo, and Sedan belong to a lower
category, for in none of these were the victors greatly
outnumbered. No one can read the thrilling story
of the defence of the Residency without wishing that
296 The Modern Odyssey.
he too might have been enrolled in that band of men,
women, and children who were welded by the fire of
common danger into one family. A feeling of awe
and humiliation chills the mind of the traveller as he
contemplates the scenes of the drama. His own life,
when compared with the lives of those who formed
the garrison, appears so useless and frivolous, a mere
routine of selfish comfort. The battered walls seem
mutely to reproach him.
-^ A monotonous plain nearly two hundred miles in
width separates Benares from Lucknow. A few un-
important towns intervene, and no physical features of
interest abate the tedium of the weary journey which
the Oude and Rohilcund Railway performs in less than
ten hours. The cities have little in common. Benares
is Hindoo to the core, almost prehistoric in antiquity,
and owes its position in India to the pilgrims who
have flocked to it for generations. The houses are
for the most part solid structures of stone, effectively
placed on or near the banks of the river, and even
the humbler streets are not altogether mean in aspect.
Lucknow, on the other hand, is a Mahomcdan city
which was unknown before the beginning of the last
century, when the dissolution of the Mogul Empire
was imminent. A mushroom growth of superficially
attractive palaces sprang up, and the city was peopled
with the miscellaneous assemblage which clusters round
an Eastern Court. Simulated grandeur, that is soon
unmasked by a closer investigation, is the characteristic
of Lucknow ; stately repose is that of Benares. The
magnificent edifices on the Ganges are replaced by
gaudily decorated structures of brick and stucco on
the Goomtee. In the distance the capital of Oude
seems as beautiful as a mirage. The illusion is de-
stroyed, and Lucknow is discovered to be a city in
The City of the Siege. 297
e'cctro-plate, the history of which is creditable only
to its enemies.
Lucknow lies in the centre of the plain of the
North-West Provinces, and is the largest city in India
except the three Presidency capitals. If the possession
of a number of large edifices gives a claim to the ap-
pellation, it is more deserving of the name of the City
of Palaces than Calcutta. They were erected during
the last hundred years — a period when in Asia, as well
as in Europe, a low standard of art prevailed. They
are striking in appearance, and on the whole effective,
if somewhat cheap. If the gleam of the sunlight upon
them were caused by white marble instead of white-
wash, if they were tastefully adorned, if masonry took
the place of stuccoed brick, the palaces of Lucknow
would be matchless. As they stand they might have
been erected by a tribe of stage carpenters for the
representation of an Indian drama on a magnificent
scale. There is an air of the footlights about them,
and architecturally they are hardly superior to the
Pavilion at Brighton. On the other hand, the European
quarter and cantonments, though not containing any
remarkable building, are prett}', cheerful, and well laid
out. Elowers are abundant in a hundred gardens, and
the settlement is, for India, unusually home-like.
It is little more than thirty years since Lucknow was
annexed to the British lunpirc, an act which was the
primary though not the ostensible cause of the Mutin\-,
or an act, rather, which made the Mutiny a popular
movement ; and now a large ICnglish militar}' and
civilian population occupies and takes pains to adorn
the city, which has become one of the plcasantest
stations in India. The cantonments lie on the south-
east side. At one corner a fortified blockhouse, which
is eventually to be armed with machine guns, has been
29S The Modern Odyssey.
erected ; and it is intended to form a protected quadri-
lateral triangle enclosing the railway station and the
encampment by building forts at the other angles. The
bungalows are placed in a charming park intersected with
drives and covered with groves of mangoes, sheltering
lawn-tennis courts.
Not far off is the Government Elephant Establish-
ment, and the process of grooming the bulky creatures in
the spacious yard affords a novel and interesting sight
to a European. They lie on their sides in luxurious ease
while coolies scrub their hides with rough stones and
pour rivers of water over them. They are perfectly
docile, and even assist the attendants with their trunks.
The contrast between the intelligence, sagacity, and
common-sense displayed on all occasions by an elephant
and the idiocy and childish behaviour of a horse when
confronted with unfamiliar objects or placed in unusual
situations is remarkable. The horse, on the strength of
his handsome appearance, has been placed far too high
on the list of intelligent animals.
A very beautiful public park has been laid out near
the cantonments, and the banks of the Goomtee and the
gardens are as delightful as a Scotch gardener and a
tropical climate can make them. It is pleasant to
emerge from the heat and dust of a city in a very sunny
plain into a retreat where the rose-trees exclude the
glare of the outer world, and the solitude is unbroken
save by the little trustful squirrels.
The sights of Lucknow can be visited without a
guide. A little Hindustani and an intelligent gJiarry-
ivallaJi are sufficient. The Kaiser Bagh — a palace which
was built by the captive of Garden Reach for his harem
a few years before his deposition, at a cost of eighty lacs
of rupees — somewhat resembles the college of an English
university. It encloses a quadrangle laid out in gardens,
The City of the Siege. 299
to which access is given from the city through fine gate-
ways of moulded stucco, roughly but rather effectively
ornamented. The walls are rudely coloured in chocolate
and fawn. On the dais of a pavilion standing in the
centre of the court, and used not many years ago as the
royal banqueting hall and as a dancing floor for the
nautch girls, the bands of the garrison now play English
valses and operetta airs every evening at sunset. Out-
side the Western Lac Gate, which records its cost in its
name, a high building, called the Kaiser Pasend, dwarfs
the low oblong range of the Kaiser Bagh. It is covered
with gingerbread ornament, and has been both a prison
for rebels and the residence of a Court favourite. The
fishes which were the armorial bearings of the Kings of
Oude appear on it, as on every public building in Luck-
now. A charge of grape-shot from a gun posted at the
palace killed Neil as he was bringing his artillery through
the gateway which now is all that remains of the city
wall ; and not far off is Dholy Square, where during
Havelock's advance the bearers abandoned the wounded
to the rebels, who set fire to the litters and massacred
the occupants.
On the eastern side of the Kaiser Bagh are two fine
examples of a form of devotion so common in India —
the noble mausoleums erected by Ghazi-ud-din-Hyder
over the tombs of his father and mother. To him, also,
Lucknow owes a structure of more practical utility — an
iron bridge which he ordered from England to span
the Goomtee. He did not survive to cross the river
upon it, and various causes delayed the completion of
the work for thirty years after his death. The bridge is
styled elegant by the guide-book. A fanciful edifice,
the Chutter Munzil or Umbrella Story — so called from
the gilt umbrellas which crown the domcs^stands upon
the left bank of the river. It was built by Naseer-ud-
30O The Modern Odyssey.
din-Hyder for the ladies of his harem, but it has been
more than once diverted to uses very remote from its
original purpose. The roof served Campbell as a station
from which to direct the attack upon the Residency ;
and at the present time the halls and corridors are in the
possession of the Lucknow Club, and give accommo-
dation to the bookcases and shelves of the Public
Library. Though similar instances of the vicissitudes
which Eastern edifices undergo are common in India,
a parallel case has occurred in England. A house in
Brighton, which had once belonged to Mrs. Fitzherbert,
is now occupied by the Young Men's Christian Associa-
tion of that place.
In a time of famine the good King Asaf-ud-daulah
relieved the starving people by building the Great
Imambara as a place of assembly. It is the finest
edifice in Lucknow, and the design is creditable to
Kaifiat-ullah, the successful candidate in the competition
which the king instituted among the architects of the
period, stipulating only that the structure should be
unique and of surpassing magnificence. The cost is said
to have been ten million rupees. The Imambara is a
splendid Oriental palace of good design and proportions,
faithfully built of stone throughout, but disfigured with
meretricious ornamentation. The stone is covered with
yellow plaster. A grand vaulted hall — the largest in
Asia — occupies the greater portion of the building, and
at either end is a smaller octagonal chamber. The
only structural decoration is a wooden balcony running
round at the spring of the roof A vulgar canopy stands
over the tomb of the founder, and tawdry chandeliers
and mirrors are set up with a prodigal hand both here
and in the adjoining flosscinabad, which is aptly called
the Palace of Lights, and is externally a beautiful
building. In the interior, however, silver paint, silver
The City of the Siege. 301
paper, tinsel, and other frippery adorn roughly fitted
marble panels. The workmanship is neither neat nor
accurate. Broad bands of mortar lie between the flags
of the pavement. In the courtyard stands a bad model
of the Taj. The lamps used at festivals hang in festoons
on the wires, and make the place look like an English
tea-garden. Indian native art has been declining for
many years. Agra and Delhi show it at its zenith ;
Lucknow shows it at its nadir. The advent of the
English gave it a blow under which it is still staggering.
The conquered insensibly assimilate themselves to the
feelings of the conquerors ; and as the period of the
English occupation of India includes the time when art
was not only uncultivated but even despised in England,
and when the beautiful was universally thrust aside to
make room for the useful, it is not surprising that the
genius of Indian artists was blunted.
By the side of the Cawnpore road, a mile or two
distant from Lucknow, is the Alumbagh, once a chateau
belonging to the King of Oude. It is a plain square
building, surrounded by a walled garden. Here Have-
lock's forces, which had just defeated ten thousand
insurgents, paused to take breath before attacking
Lucknow. The sick and wounded were left behind
with a guard of four hundred men, but the rebel ranks
closed up, and they were isolated from the force which
had gone on to the relief of the Residency. The
loopholed and shot-stricken walls of the garden tell
of the struggle succcssfulh' maintained by the little
garrison, which was finally relieved, not from Lucknow,
but b\' a column from Cawnpore. The body of Have-
lock, but not his bra\-e spirit, retiu-ncd to the Alumbagh.
His grave is under a tree in the garden, and a long
epitaph obscures his merit in a cloud of words, l^y
some strange fatality the epitaphs upon the tombs of
302 The Modern Odyssey.
Indian heroes seem doomed to be unhappy. Even the
simple, hopeful word Resurgam has been torn to pieces
by an unskilful stonecutter. " Resu " appears upon one
side of a tombstone, and a blank fully a foot in width
separates it from " rgam " ; and in thirty years no one
has cared enough for the memory of the dead to repair
the grotesque blunder.
Havelock died at the Dilkusha, a hunting lodge of
the King of Oudc, two miles from the Alumbagh.
A few days before the house had witnessed a happier
scene. The half-starved women and children who had
been imprisoned for five months in the Residency
were rescued by Campbell at the second relief of
Lucknow, and brought off to the Dilkusha, where,
through the thoughtful kindness of the officer then
commanding the Ninth Lancers, they found an abun-
dant repast prepared for them — a banquet at which
the host could show and his guests could appreciate
hospitality in its most kindly form.
A fantastic building in various styles, extravagantly
ornamented with grotesque figures, intermingled with
mythological subjects, stands near the Dilkusha. On
the south front it bears the motto Lahore et Constanlia,
whence it is sometimes without much reason styled the
Constantia. It is usually called the Martinicre, from
the name of the founder, a French adventurer. The
native architects are free from the reproach of having
designed so extraordinary an edifice. Claud Martin
went out to India in the last century as a jewel-cutter,
and polished diamonds at Lucknow with such success
that he died a rich man, a Major-Gencral, and the
friend of King Wajid AH. He offered to sell the edifice
for ten millions of rupees to the King, who shrewdly
replied that he had but to wait for the owner's death,
when the Crown would take possession of it. The
The City of the Siege. 303
Frenchman, however, was a match for his Sovereign,
and at once built a mausoleum beneath the building,
which in due course his infidel body occupied, and
thereby outwitted the King, for no Mahomedan will
inhabit a dwelling which is defiled by the corpse of
an unbeliever. Though the Martiniere is one of the
most monstrous and ridiculous structures in India, as
a school for Europeans and Eurasians it is doing useful
work.
The Secunder Bagh was laid out by the same King
as a plcasance lor a favourite wife. It is a walled
garden ; and the care that was taken to screen the
Queen from the eyes of men proved an instrument
by which a terrible vengeance was enacted for some
of Nana Sahib's cruelties. When Campbell's army
approached to relieve Lucknow for the second
time, two thousand rebels were discovered in the
garden, which is but one hundred and twenty yards
square. One of the two gates had been blocked
up, and the sepoys were entrapped in the enclosure.
Half an hour's pounding by artillery effected a breach
just wide enough to admit two men abreast. But that
was sufficient for a Scotch regiment. The Xinety-Third
Highlanders, whose sergeant-major was the first to
enter and the first to die, raced with the Sikhs to the
opening. Soon the gateway was forced open, and in
a little while the dead and dying were piled in heaps
at the entrance. The rebels fought as men will fight
for whom there is no escape. In four hours two
thousand sepoys were lying dead among the rose trees.
But the battle was not yet won. The British troops
passed on. The tomb of Gha/.i-ud-din-I hdcr is not
far from the Secunder Bagh. The field-guns of the
artillery were not powerful enough to dislodge the
enemy from it, nor could Peel, with his sixt}--cight-
304 The Modern Odyssey.
pounders from the Shannon, breach the walls, against
which the remnant of the Ninety-Third dashed them-
selves in vain. All appeared to be lost, when Hope,
a name of good omen, discovered a little side-door,
and led some of his men through it. The courtyard
was empty. The gallant bearing of the Highlanders
had struck terror into the men within, and the enemy
had vanished.
But the Residency is the centre which chiefly
irradiates the lustre of the story of Lucknow. While
Oude was still independent, it was the official dwelling
of the East India Company's Resident or Ambassador
at the King's Court. It was surrounded by a low wall,
and guarded by a detachment of troops, but in other
respects an English country house would be more easy
to defend successfully. Outside the grounds a dense
mass of native buildings hemmed it in, while the
hospital, the post-office, and other houses within the
enclosure, not only imperilled the safety of the main
building by their liability to capture, but also masked
the fire of its defenders. Apparently a more hopeless
place of refuge could not be, but there was no choice.
Yet a small body of men maintained themselves here
against crueller enemies than any that British soldiers
had ever before encountered, and thereby saved three
hundred women and children from falling into the hands
of rebels who had learnt lessons in massacre from Nana
Sahib. Lucknow was spared the tragedy of Cawnpore,
and will remain until the end of time a monument
not only of the bravery of the British Army, but also
of the calm, patient, unselfish endurance of the l^ritish
nation, all classes of which were numbered among the
captives.
The Eesidency was invested on the ist of July,
1857. ^s shipwrecked mariners on a desolate island
The City of the Siege. 305
scan the horizon eagerly every day for a sail, so
did the garrison gaze across the burning plain of
Oude from the tower to catch the first sight of relief.
Sometimes a cloud of dust upon the Cawnpore road
deceived them — the tramp of the rebels had stirred it
up. Day by day and month by month passed away
without a sign of help. The leader was killed by a shot
from one of his own guns, which he had been forced
to abandon ; and the grim forms of cholera and small-
pox were stalking through the midst. The garrison
was reduced to less than a thousand men ; the rebels
were confident. Not until the 25th of September did
the welcome skirl of the Highlanders' bagpipes reach
the ears of the defenders, Havelock found it a com-
paratively easy task to march from the Ganges to
Lucknow, but to squeeze through the narrow streets
leading to the Residency was an effort that cost him
nearly a fifth of his men ; and all the time the de-
fenders, who could hear the noise of the fight, were
tormented with fears lest he should fail, for his troops
had to run the gauntlet between houses loopholed
for musketry and teeming with desperate armed rebels,
before they could reach their destination. But the thin
red line which the Muscovite axe could not sever at
Balaklava wriggled out of the defile ; and as the sun
was setting, Inglis saw Ilavelock's ba)-onets gleaming
tiirough the smoke, and with cheer upon cheer the
Highlanders debouched into the street, and the Resi-
dency was saved at the last moment ; for it was im-
possible that the garrison could have held out man)-
days longer. The siege, however, was not at an end ;
for the relieving force was insufficient to bring out
the women and children through the rebel arm)- which
again invested the city, and they remained inmiured
in the Residency until the i8lh of November, when,
U
3o6 The Modern Odyssey.
after five months of captivity, their Hberation was
effected by Campbell.
The buildings of the Residency remain as they were
at the suppression of the Mutiny — all stamped with the
deadly pattern of war. Shot-holes and bullet-marks
cover the bare walls, clustering most thickly near the
doors and windows. On the Baillie Gate there is hardly
a square foot unscarred by missiles. Here a deep
indentation shows where a round shot found its billet ;
there the wall has been pierced by successive projectiles ;
close by is the void caused by the explosion of a well-
aimed shell. The ruinous condition of the floors, roofs,
and staircases shows the terrible ordeal which the
defenders went through. Only the naked walls remain,
and no army can claim a more honourable war memorial.
The spots connected with the chief incidents of the siege
are indicated by marble tablets, and the old soldier in
charge points out the different rooms. Here the food
was stored ; here the officers messed ; here the European
sentry was posted over the native prisoners ; here the
wounded lay ; in that cellar the soldiers' wives lived ;
this is the passage through which food was brought to
them ; here A. died ; there B. was wounded ; that
building was used as a hospital : every corner has its
story.
A garden now surrounds the Residency, which has
become a quiet, solitary place. Creepers have climbed
the walls and hidden some of the scars. Bright flowers
glow among the ruins, and the parrots flutter around
undisturbed. The grey tower still looks down upon the
scene : its shadow falls across a lawn. The guns of the
Shannon, dra<iged up from Calcutta, and now posted in
the midst of the shrubs, show that the British Navy can
fight 700 miles from the sea. The cemetery lies in the
rear, but the church, which was destroyed during the
The City of the Siege. 307
siege, has not yet been rebuilt. The graveyard is small
and the tombs of the comrades of Lucknow are very
near together ; and
HERE LIES HENRY LAWREN'CE,
WHO TRIED TO DO HIS DUTY.
CHAPTER XX.
THE CITY OF THE MOGULS.
Etymology brings words into strange companionship
and discloses unexpected affinities. Punjab and Punch
have apparently little in common, yet they contain
identical roots. The latter is an exhilarating beverage
composed of five elements ; the former signifies a district
watered by the five rivers Jhelum, Chenab, Ravce, Beas,
and Sutlej, which join the Indus and flow into the
Arabian Sea. The eastern boundary of the Punjab is,
however, a Gangetic river, the Jumna ; and Delhi, which
stands on the right bank, is the most populous city of
the province, though not belonging to it of geographical
right, but only by authority of the Indian Government.
The havoc and the splendour of the East are shown
more plainly than elsewhere in the North of India in the
ruins of older Delhis, which cover an area of nearly fifty
square miles around the site of the present city, and in
the relics — such as the Palace, the Citadel, and the
Mosque — of the time of its prosperity under the mag-
nificent Mogul PImpcrors. A Delhi, either the existing
city or one of its predecessors has been taken, plundered,
and sometimes destrcjyed by Mahomedans, Persians,
Afghans, Tartars, and Mahrattas. But the incidents
of warfare are not sufficient to account for the \icissi-
tudes of the various cities which have occupied either
identical or neighbouring sites on the bai.ks of the Jumna.
Tjir City of the Moguls. 309
The whims and caprices of the monarch were often quite
as effectual in causine^ the abandonment of one city and
the estabh'shment of another in its place. If an Emperor
wished to eclipse the i^lory of his predecessors he would
build a new palace at a distance and defend it with a
citadel, to which the inhabitants of the old city would
soon resort in order to obtain the protection of the
soldiers against the predatory tribes, as well as the coun-
tenance and the patronai^c of the Court ; and the old
name would survive in the new city.
The Delhi of to-day was the work of Shah Jehan, a
Mogul lunpcror contemporary with Charles the First
and Oliver Cromwell. In the time of his son and
gaoler, Aurungzebe, it reached the height of a prospcrit}'
which soon attracted the attention of watchful enemies.
It was pillaged by the Persians ; and in the early ) cars
of this century a feeble descendant of Timour handed it
over to an English general's protection, which, after a
brief interval at the time of the Mutiny, culminated in
the realisation of the dream of a Jewish statesman and
novelist when under the walls of Aurung/xbc's Delhi
an English Queen was proclaimed Empress of India.
A wall of five miles in circuit, pierced b}- gateways
named after the places towards which thc}- face, encom-
passes the cit\'. The I'Ain.pcan and least attracti\e
(juarter lies between the Calcutta Gate and the Ca.-hinere
Gate. The hotels are inferior, but the rail\\a\- station is
a fine building, and the inducements it offers to leave
Delhi are greater than thc temptations to remain offered
b)- the former. A garden lias been laid out along the
banks of the aijueduct, and the roads arc shaded bj-
trees which are used b\' the monke\'s for thuir gymnastics
and as places of refuge when chasetl by the dogs. The
native city contains icw objects of interest besides the
Citadel and the Mosque, but the splendour of these
3IO The Modern Odyssey.
makes amends for the lack of other noteworthy edifices.
Not many Indian cities contain a street that is long,
clean, broad, and straight ; but the Chandni Chowk or
Silver Street of Delhi is a mile in length, forty yards in
breadth, and is maintained in good order, and, except for
one slight deviation which is soon redressed, uniform in
direction. It is the chief public place of Delhi. Here
stand the Municipal Buildings, the Clock Tower, and the
Museum and Institute recently erected by the Govern-
ment. Here a Persian monarch sat in state to witness
a massacre which he had ordered, and here the rebels
were executed after the Mutiny. It is thronged with
dogs, bullocks, naked children, and men, and the mutual
forbearance of all these animals mingled in strange con-
fusion is astonishing. The fierce features of an Afghan
may often be distinguished in the crowd ; lepers put
themselves in evidence with the hope that the pity and
horror which their condition excites may be crystallised
into active charity ; and almost touching them stands
the sleek dealer in Cashmere shawls and Delhi em-
broidery at the door of his shop^ trying to induce the
European distributor of rupees to enter.
The Jumna flows beneath the walls on the eastern
side of the city, and nearly half the river frontage is
occupied by the citadel or fort which surrounds the
palace. The impression made by the latter on a traveller
will depend upon what he has already seen in India. If
he comes from Lucknow he will be delighted ; if he
comes from Agra he will be disappointed. A high wall
of red sandstone, having deep, narrow battlements and
two elaborate gateways protected by flanking towers, on
one of which a tiny Union Jack floats from sunrise to
sunset, forms the barrier between the palace and the
city. Inside the Lahore Gate a long, vaulted aisle,
occupied by the garrison bazaar, leads to a spacious
The City of the Moguls. 311
courtyard. Many of the palace buildings have been
removed to make room for barracks, on which the thumb-
mark of the Royal Engineers is plainly visible. The
Emperor's Music Hall is richly ornamented with external
as well as with internal carving. It fell into trouble,
however ; the Royal Engineers came to it with pails of
whitewash, and it is now used as a soldiers' mess-room.
The prevalence of whitewash in all places and on all
things under the authority of the British Government
will, no doubt, in time cause the natives to regard it as
the symbol of the British raj m Hindostan. Further on
is the Dcwan-i-am, or Public Audience Hall. It is a
vast portico raised by a few steps above the ground level,
and covered with a stone roof resting upon a triple row
of red sandstone pillars. A staircase in the wall — for
the portico is open on three sides — leads up to the
marble throne from which the Sovereign delivered his
decrees with all the splendour of the Mogul Court
around him. It is elevated ten feet above the floor of
the Hall. Four pillars of white marble support the
canopy overhead ; and at the foot of Shah Jehan's
throne, within the precincts of a splendid pavilion, is
the bar from which a canteen sergeant retails beer to the
garrison at two annas a glass. Sic transit gloria niuiidi.
A French artist who was in India towards the middle
of the seventeenth century, one Austin of Bordeaux,
decorated the walls of the Throne Room with mosaics
of the flowers, fruits, and birds of Hindostan in
precious stones, and the work shows all the stiffness and
artificiality of French art of that period. Instead of the
delicate flowers, graceful tendrils, and simple geometrical
patterns which a Mahomedan artist would have designed,
the walls are covered with large, square, black panels,
each framing a single gaudy parrot. Many of the stones
have disappeared, and some of the voids have been filled
312 The Modern Odyssey.
with coloured composition, which is also used, to the
exclusion of jewels, in all the decorations above the level
of the e)'e — but it is hypocritical for a citizen of the
nation wh'ch has established a beershop under the steps
of a Mogul throne to censure such trifles. It is better to
acknowledge humbly that the De\van-i-am is a wonderful
work of art.
The Dcwan-i-khas, or Hall of Private Audience,
stands on a platform on the river wall, and is open, like
the De\van-i-am, on three sides. The Palace Gardens
border it on the west, a marble court faces it, and the
remaining side commands the Jumna. It was looted by
the Persians, but much of its former beauty remains. It
is a square marble pavilion supported by massive and
highly polished pillars. The ceiling was composed of
gold and silver filigree work, but all this "was broken
up and walked away with by the Jats," to quote the
homely language of the guide-book. A portion has
been renewed in brilliant colours by the Indian Govern-
ment after the style of the London Alhambra. A
balustrade of marble runs round the outside of the
Pavilion, and at each corner of the roof is a marble
kiosk surmounted by a gilt dome. The ladies' rooms
are set apart by a perforated screen of exquisite work-
manship.
The famous Peacock Throne, which derived its name
from a jewelled representation of peacocks' tails on the
back, was carried away into Persia. It was former!)'
adorned b}' the Koh-i-noor, and is described as a struc-
ture of solid gold inlaid with gems, and overhung with a
gold canop)' supported by gold pillars and fringed with
strings of pearls. On either side was an embroidered
umbrella of crimson velvet, with handles of solid gold
studded with diamonds — the work of Austin of Bordeaux.
The nationality of the artist, perhaps, induced another
The City of the Moguls. 313
French jeweller, one Tavern ier, to appraise the throne at
the extravagant sum of six millions of pounds sterling.
At the back of the Dc\van-i-khas is the Seraglio, where
formerly female sentinels stood on guard, and beyond
are the Royal Baths, once richly decorated with mosaics.
Time, however, and the pilfcrings of the British soldier
and the British tourist* have left voids which compo-
sition cannot suitably fill. Between the Dcwan-i-am
and the Dcwan-i-khas stands the private chapel of the
Emperor — the little Moti-Musjid or Pearl Mosque — of
white marble, which unfortunately has not escaped
injur}'.
The world has probably never witnessed a more
splendid scene than the spectacle of a Mogul Emperor
enthroned at Delhi. The imagination cannot adequately
picture the pomp and beauty of the ceremony on the
terrace between the garden and the river. The clear
sky was above ; the brilliant sunshine glowed on the
pageant ; the scent of the flowers was exhaled from one
side, while the ripple of the Jumna was heard whisper-
ing on the other ; the dark eyes of the harem peered
through the marble screen of the zenana to catch a
glimpse of the Court grouped around in su{)erb attire,
and to be dazzled by the swords and spears glittering in
the rays of the sun. Nothing was wanting which cither
the outward conditions or the genius of man could
furnish to complete the magnificence of the displaj' ;
and the Persian inscription on the crown of the arch,
where it still ma\- be read, did not err when it declared :
" If ever there was a Paradise upon earth, it is this, it is
this."
* Tliey manage tlu-sc things beitcr in America. At M(n!nt \'crnon,
the birthplace and hciiiie of WashiriL^ton, a basket of certified chips i< pvfi-
vided by the authorities, out of \vhich travellers can help theni^t Ives : and
much whittling of trees and woo<len fuinilure and litliiigs is thereliy
avoided.
314 The Modern Odyssey.
In the Mahomedan cities of India the Jumma Musjid,
or Friday Mosque — Friday being the Mahomedan holy
day — is usually the finest place of worship, corresponding
to the cathedral of a European city. The Jumma Musjid
of Delhi is one of the most magnificent sacred edifices
in the world. It stands upon a small tableland in the
heart of the city. Three noble flights of stairs give
access, through sandstone gateways, to a quadrangle
paved with red slabs. In the centre is a marble tank ;
a colonnade skirts it on three sides, and at each angle is
a domed marble pavilion. A reliquary in one corner is
said to contain a hair of the prophet's beard and parch-
ments inscribed by his grandsons Hossein and Hassein.
At the side of the quadrangle nearest to Mecca is the
Mosque, surmounted by three cupolas of white marble,
out of which rise gilt spires. It is faced with marble,
and inscriptions in black marble letters on the compart-
ments along the cornice record the circumstances of its
erection by Shah Jehan. The floor of the Hall of Prayer
is paved with oblong marble slabs bordered with black
and of a sufficient size to allow each worshipper to assume
the attitude of devotion without inconvenience. The
interior is devoid of ornamentation, but its very plainness
invests it with grandeur. At each extremity of the
Mosque stands a tall minaret of white marble and red
sandstone in vertical stripes. The spacious courtyard
with its arched colonnade prevents the domes from
appearing too . large, and the architectural balance is
further sustained by the slender flanking minarets which
the artistic eye of Mahomedan architects long ago found
to be an indispensable detail if the harmony of the
general eft'ect was to be preserved.
The internal simplicity and almost bareness of a
Mosque in no way seems to repel the Mahomedan mind
accustomed to Eastern splendour. The gorgeous and
The City of the Moguls. 315
bedizened Hindoo shrines which are sometimes found
within a stonc's-throw of the Moslem place of worship
do not tempt the believer to turn aside. His conception
of religion is lofty. Though he is sensuous by nature,
he associates it not with elaborate ornamentation and
outward forms, but rather with personal observances.
He prostrates himself towards Mecca on his carpet in
the court indifferent to the presence of the prying
stranger. It is not unusual to see at the Jumma
Musjid of Delhi a group of dusky Afghans, black-
bearded, wild-looking sons of the hills, fighting-men
by hereditary instinct, crouching on the pavement
and absorbed in earnest and humble devotion.
In architecture and decorative art Delhi occupies a
position between Agra and Lucknow, but it lies nearer
to the former than to the latter. Lucknow belongs to a
period of false Art in India which corresponds with the
Georgian era in England. A wave of error seems to
have impinged upon widely sundered shores at the same
time. None of the buildings of Lucknow, with the
doubtful exception of the Imambara, are worthy of a
place in Delhi, still less in Agra. Modern Delhi was
built at a period when Art had indeed begun to decline,
but before it had fallen. It was necessary to employ a
foreigner to adorn the Palace with mosaics. The artists
of Agra trusted for effect to the exquisite grace and
simplicity of their designs. The magnificence of Delhi
is the magnificence of a degenerate age. Paint and
carving arc lavishly used, and marble is often placed
in contiguity to stucco. But there is one edifice in
Delhi that would adorn the city of the Taj. If in the
Moti Musjid Agra possesses the most beautiful Ma-
homedan Temple in the world, in the Jumma Musjid
Delhi can claim the grandest. The latter will convince
many persons that Saracenic architecture is more
3i6 The Modern Odyssey.
capable than either Gothic or Classical of creating on
an imperial scale edifices the parts of which, though
treated with great variety, are nevertheless so perfectly
balanced and their proportions and elevation so stately
that the eye is both fascinated and awed.
In a lower rank of Art — that, namely, of which the
final cause is the adornment of the person or the em-
bellishment of the dwelling — Delhi has attained dis-
tinction. The embroideries are usually, though not by
any means invariably, executed with good taste, and
wath due reference to the harmony of the colours ;
but the work is inferior to that of the Japanese. The
dealers are not ignorant of the course of fashions in
London and Paris, and the traveller is surprised by
hearing tea-gowns and other garments discussed by a
native in the Delhi bazaar. They endeavour to pro-
pitiate the male customer by offering him the Anglo-
Indian national beverage, whisky and soda-water, and
they ask six or seven times more for their goods than
the price they will eventually take. The difficulty of
deciding between the merits of rival dealers is best
met by having a competitive display on neutral ground
— such as the verandah of the hotel, or a room in it.
It is the only means of ensuring the quality of the
goods and the fairness of the price. It is best to admit
not more than two or three at a time : a larger number
would drive a traveller wild. The bundles are opened
and the goods exposed, side by side, upon the floor.
P2ach dealer is envious of the other's reputation, and
volubly draws attention to the superiority of his own
articles. The lowest price — which in very few cases
proves to be the eventual irreducible minimum — must,
before all things, be concealed from the rival seller,
and is only confided under promise of secrecy to the
intending purchaser. The hubbub within is echoed
The City of the Moguls. 317
by the shouts of the dealers outside wlio have been
excluded, and who are heaping every epithet of the
expressive Hindustani language upon the fortunate
rivals who have been already admitted to the presence
of the dispenser of rupees. The ground is loaded
with piles of piano covers and wall hangings, and if
any space remains unlittered with shawls and silks,
there will be found a row of exquisite miniatures which
some stealthy artist has contrived to introduce un-
observed, and which he hopes may chance to attract
the eye. If an English tradesman were as well ac-
quainted with human nature, as apt to discern and
take advantage of personal foibles, as persistent and as
keen as his Indian fellow, then it would be necessary
to enact, for the protection of husbands and fathers,
that a woman should be considered incapable of making
a purchase, and that no bargain should be valid unless
the buyer was a man.
A mile or two outside the battered Cashmere Gate,
on the North-West side of Delhi, lies a low, rock)' ridge.
Here was encamped the besieging army which finally
wrested a strongly fortified city out of the possession of
a force thrice as numerous and amply supplied with
ammunition and provisions. It is a maxim of strategy that
besiegers should outnumber the besieged, but the pro-
portion was reversed before the walls of mutinous Delhi;
and though the attacking force was hampered b)- the
presence of native troops of doubtful lo)-alt)' ; though one
commander succumbed to the strain and another was
unequal to it and compelled to relinquish the ccjmmand
through illness ; though despondent critics at a di>lancc
counselled the retirement of the force, the motto
I'lSiigia /inlla rclrorsiiin pre\ailed, and the cit}- was
cventuall}" taken.
Twent)' \'cars pc»s>ed b}', and Delhi saw another
3i8 The Modern Odyssey.
sight. Mogul pofnp was revived ; European and Native
soldiers presented arms side by side and saluted the
birth of a new Empire of India. A hundred rajahs
and their trains acquiesced in the proclamation of a
lady who had never quitted Europe, as Empress of
India on the very spot where her troops had lately
been fighting for their lives. What pageant shall Delhi
next behold } Who can tell that it will not be the
spectacle of a Romanoff Prince receiving the homage
of the satraps of Asia ?
CHAPTER XXI.
THE CITY OF A K B A R.
Either the fort which Akbar built or the mausoleum
which his descendant, Shah Jehan, erected over the
grave of the Mumtaz-i-Mahal, the beautiful mother
of the great Aurungzebe, would suffice to make Agra
a very notable place ; but the presence in one city
of a superb example as well of Oriental luxury as of
Oriental devotion has given it a surpassing interest. Yet,
unlike Benares, Agra owes little to natural advantages
of position. It lies on the banks of the Jumna, which,
except during a few weeks of the year, is a dwindled
stream running in channels between parching sand-
banks, at the edge of the low hills which the western
winds have built up grain by grain out of the deserts
of Rajpootana, while on the further side is a broken,
desolate country scarred by ravines.
Akbar had been two years on the throne of the
Moguls when Queen Elizabeth began to reign in
England, and he survived her by two years. If he
had ever heard of his great contemporary, the island
Begum of the West, he probably looked upon her as
we should now regard the chieftain of some savage
African tribe; for even 150 years after, a Xawab of
Bengal, the infamous Surajah Doulah, who thrust his
prisoners into the Black Hole of Calcutta, declared
that there were not 10,000 men in all Europe. Elizabeth,
320 The Modern Odyssey.
on the other hand, no doubt knew by report of the
splendour and power of the Indian Emperors, and if
she could have seen Akbar's City of Agra, she might
have been dissatisfied with the northern simplicity of
her own Court. Not many years after her death her
successor despatched Sir Thomas Roe as ambassador
to Delhi, where he obtained from Akbar's son Jehangir,
who little imagined that the concession would open
floodgates that were destined finally to overwhelm the
Mogul Empire, permission for some English merchant
adventurers to establish a house of business at Surat ;
and in course of time a descendant of her own Cecil
wielded more than Akbar^s power as Secretary of State
for India.
The proud red walls of the Fort have a circuit of
more than a mile, and enclose an oblong tract near
the left bank of the Jumna ; and crenellated ramparts
and semicircular towers jutting out from the sides break
the outline, and at each end a lofty gateway gives access
to the interior. The paved ascent through the Delhi
Gate, commanded by an inner battery, doubles back
almost immediately, and, having passed under a second
portal of fine proportions, leads to the heart of the
fortress, where barracks, stores, offices, guardrooms, and
parks of artillery are placed in incongruous proximit\"
to the Mosque, the Audience Halls, and zenanas of
Akbar and his successors. In the centre of the court-
yard and surrounded by dismounted howitzers stands
the huge stone bowl in which the Emperor used to
bathe. Everywhere the East and the West are con-
trasted, and not invariably to the advantage of the
latter. The stalwart Sikh sentry, who stands at atten-
tion whenever a I'^uropean, whether civilian or military,
passes his post, dwarfs the puny British soldier lounging
outside the barracks. All the modern buildin</s are in
The City of Akbar. 321
the plainest style of garrison architecture. It is no
doubt a grand thing to be able to point to the Union
Jack fluttering over the tower of Akbar's Fort, but
the feeling is modified by regret that more respect was
not paid to the traditions and associations of the place
when it became necessary to adapt it to the requirements
of a British military station.
A narrow stairway in a lofty wall leads to a small
platform in front of a pair of mighty doors, which admit
to the cool shade of a white portico, and reveal the ?.Ioti
IMusjid, the Fcarl Mosque of Agra, aglow in the light of
the mid-day sun. The court is laid with marble slabs,
and cloistered at each end ; and snow-white domes rise
above the Hall of Prayer, the groined roof of which is
supported by a triple row of arches. Except some verses
of the Koran inlaid in black and a narrow band of black
stone running round the pillars and each slab of the
floor, there is nothing to vary the white and grey of
the marble of which the Pearl Mosque is wholly built.
The sun has bleached the domes and the pavement, but
within the soft colouring of the stone remains.
The view from the roof is dazzling. The white court
is outspread below, and all around are the red ramparts
of the fort which encloses the Palace. The Jumna is
seen flowing towards the Taj and washing the terrace-
wall, above w^iich rises the most beautiful Tomb in the
world ; the minarets 'of the Jumma Musjid and the
gilded spires of the domes glisten in the sun. A few
trees break the line of the horizon, which trembles in the
noonday heat. The lack of beauty in the natural
scenery serves to place the splendid creations of the
Mahomedan architects more boldly and effectively
before the eye. The loveliness of the picture is not
diminished, but rather enhanced, by the simplicity of
the frame.
V
322 The Modern Odyssey.
Beyond the Moti Musjid is the palace erected by
Akbar and Jehangir, and enlarged and embellished by
another imperial builder, Shah Jehan. The capabilities
of Saracenic Art are well shown in it. Public halls, private
audience chambers, porticoes, verandahs, and colonnades
are seen on every side, each treated in a style of its
own, yet subserviently to the idea of the general design.
Each site is occupied by some edifice which seems to be
the very structure indispensable to it and which could
not be displaced without marring the harmony of the
effect. Fretted arches, delicate marble screens, mosaic
walls, and bas-reliefs are scattered lavishly throughout
the palace. Whenever the union is possible, red sand-
stone is combined with its perfect antithesis, white
marble. All the work is faithful and honest. There is
no scamping of those details that are not brought
prominently before the eye, and the only blemishes are
the modern restorations and repairs.
The Palace of Agra reveals to later generations a
glimpse of the whole machinery of social and political
life under the Mogul Emperors. The Dewan-i-am, or
Hall of Public Audience, where they received the com-
plaints of the people and pronounced their judicial deci-
sions, is, as might be expected, a noble and prominent
edifice ; and adjacent to it is the Dcwan-i-khas, or Hall
of Private Audience — a smaller chamber of marble, en-
riched with carving from floor to ceiling, in which the
viziers and officials of the Empire were admitted to the
presence.
Within a few paces is the entrance to the Zenana,
where the lives of the prisoners of the harem were made
tolerable by every appliance of Art known to P2astcrn
luxury, and where they could spend their days enjoying
every pleasure save those in which the intellect could
take part. There are the cool corridors open to the
The City of Akdar. 323
four winds, and white pavilions hedged in by pierced
marble screens which the breeze but not the eyes of man
could penetrate ; narrow winding stairs lead to kiosks
on the roof or to the dungeons below ; secret under-
ground passages to places without the city give access
to some favourite resort, or, if need be, provide a way of
escape from an alien foe or from the followers of a too
powerful vassal or aspirant to the throne.
Each apartment and saloon remains substantially as
the Sovereign left it ; for furniture v/as scarcely used
cither for decorative purposes or for convenience. All
ornamentation was an integral part of the fabric : the
alcoves, the arched roof, the inlaid pavement were far
too beautiful to be encumbered with the paraphernalia
necessary to hide the plainness of a modern European
room. No pictures concealed the lovely mosaic flowers
on the wall ; no heavy drapery put out of sight the
beaded lintels ; and such a gaunt object as a drawing-
room table or chair of the present day would have
been deemed an uncouth superfluity in the midst of low
carved couches covered with silks.
A large portion of the Palace is devoted to the wants
and pastimes of the harem, and the solicitude which the
Mogul Emperors displayed for the well-being, comfort,
and happiness of their wives is very evident. It might
have been thought that, as the affections of a polygamous
husband arc widely distributed, and therefore diminished
in intensity, he would be less anxious to ensure the con-
tent of his numerous wives than a husband whose whole
love was concentrated upon one woman. Whatever
might have been their faults, the Mogul lMn[:)2rors cer-
tainly were not wanting in consideration for the female
se.x. No European wife was ever housed in such lu.xury
and splendour as that which environed the iiunatcs of
the harems of Agra, whose condition, as tar as ph)-sical
V 2
324 The Modern Odyssey.
comforts could avail them, might well be an object of
envy to a Roman Empress in the past or to a great lady
of Paris of the present day. They lived in palaces
which were designed by architects and adorned by
artists who have never been excelled, and which are still
the wonder and the admiration of the world.
If the ladies wished to purchase jewels — and what
woman does not ? — there was a bazaar within the pre-
cincts where the diamonds of Golconda and the precious
stones of Ceylon might be seen sparkling in the sun. A
pond in the Muchi Bhawan Court was teeming with fish,
which a favourite might catch from a marble balcony
overhanging the water. The chief Sultana had her
boudoir in the Saman Burj, or Jasmine Tower, wherein,
adorned with most delicate tracery, was a deep portico
inlaid with rarest art, and a vaulted chamber beyond,
and a pavilion looking out towards the river — wherein
also British artillery has left its mark in the form of five
jagged holes in the stone trellis-work. No one who has
stood upon the marble terrace which runs along the wall
above the moat, and has gazed at the exquisite structures
all around, can quit them without pain and without
envying the little green parrots who flutter there from
morn till eve and build their nests in the crannies of the
walls.
From a gallery close at hand Akbar and his wives
directed the movements of living counters on the pac/iisi
board in the court below — an Oriental game in some
respects resembling draughts. Deep verandahs and
shady bowers opened upon the Ungaree Bagh, a garden
of vines and roses where the plash of the fountain never
ceased to echo through the halls and corridors. Often
the balconies on the ramparts were filled with beautiful
women eagerly watching the tiger and elephant fights
in the ditch below, for v/hich English ladies who sit on
The City of Akdar. 325
cane chairs and look on at the slaughter of doves at
Hurlingham should not censure them. Adjoining the
Ungaree Bagh is the Shish Mahal, or Palace of Glass,
which contains the ladies' baths. The walls are inlaid
with a thousand mirrors set in marble frames, which
appear to be covered with the finest lace-work — in
reality the reflection of the tracery on the opposite sides
diminished by the convexity of the glass lenses. On
the ledges of the walls are little marble pockets, which
were used as receptacles for jewellery. In the centre of
the floor are sunken baths of inlaid marble, to which
water was admitted by cascades falling through vertical
channels, resembling chimneys, in the walls, from which
it passed under the marble pavement into the bath. The
water-passages are ridged and curiously carved, so as to
impart the appearance of waves and even of fish to the
flowing stream, and fountains so ingeniously contrived
that they could be illuminated from within threw their
crystal drops into the air.
Nor were the personal tastes of the ladies of the
harem neglected. The Hindoo wives of Jehangir dwelt
in a cloistered court decorated in the Hindoo style. It
is built of red sandstone, a material which lends itself
kindly to the chisel of the carver, who has worked upon
the pillars with excellent effect. The dilapidations
have, however, been clumsily repaired by the Royal
Engineers, who with untoward genius have replaced a
fallen pillar of stone by a square column of brick,
neatly pointed, and have imitated the ornamentation of
the capital in painted woodwork. The gem of the
edifice is a certain quiet courtx'ard where much of the
original carving remains, and where the Indian Govern-
ment, in its mercy, has used the whitewash brush more
sparingly than usual.
Thus did the faithful fare. She had no cares, she
326 The Modern Odyssey.
lived in a superb palace, and everything that could add
to her pleasure was supplied by her lord. But for the
unfaithful wife there was quicker, more certain, and more
effectual punishment than any that could be inflicted by
the censure of public opinion or by the slow process of a
Divorce Court. A low doorway and a few steps leading
down from the Garden of Roses gives admission to a
long underground passage by which the offender was
conducted to a small round chamber in the depths of the
fortress. On the roof was the fatal beam, and through a
hole in the floor her body was cast into the Jumna.
Indian Princes are more liable than other men to
be the victims of the caprice of Fortune, and in the
palace at Agra a room is pointed out in which a once
powerful Mogul Emperor, after having spent seven years
as the prisoner of his own son, who had usurped the
throne, died with his eyes still fixed, as they had been
constantly in life, on the tomb of that son's mother.
The romantic figure of the Emperor Shah Jchan
stands out more brightly in the dark pages of Indian
history than the personalities of most of his s'jcccssors
or predecessors. Scarce!)- one of them has achieved a
name through the display of any good quality of the
heart. The general character of the Mogul Monarchs
may be inferred from an epigram on one who was by no
means the worst of them. Of Aurungzebe, Shah Jehan's
son, it was said that " if he had had no father to im-
prison, no brother to murder, and no subjects to oppress,
he might have been a blameless man ! " Shah Jehan
won imperishable renown neither from the extent of his
dominions, nor from the power of the foes vanquished
by him, nor from the splendour of his Court, but from
his devotion to his consort, the lovely Mumtaz-i-Mahal,
the Chosen of the Palace. She came of a Persian
The City of Akdar. 327
stock noted for the beauty and charm of its women.
Her aunt, Nur Jchan, was Shah Jehan's stepmother, the
wife of Jehangir, who in his memoirs confesses that
before his marriage with Nur Jehan he had not known
the true happiness of wedlock. He resigned his power
to her, and she appears to have been an excellent Sove-
reign. Her charitable deeds are still remembered : she
encouraged art, and she was, moreover, a poetess.
Her niece, the Mumtaz-i-Mahal, exercised a similar
magical influence over Shah Jchan. With him it was,
" All for Love, and the World well Lost." He cherished
her with fondest care during her lifetime, and after her
death, in giving birth to the great Aurungzebe, he
spent treasure equal to three millions of pounds sterling
in erecting a mausoleum over her body. On her death-
bed she made him promise that her tomb should be the
most beautiful thing in the world. Only an Oriental
despot could have the power to perform such a vow. All
Asia was laid under contribution. China sent crystals :
the depths of the Red Sea were explored for coral :
Rajahs made presents of precious stones : Persian ame-
thysts, Ceylon sapphires, Thibet turquoises, Golconda
diamonds, and jasper from the Punjab were brought to
adorn the white marble of Jeyporc and \-cllow marble of
the Nerbudda. No trouble was spared, no expense was
grudged by the devoted P'mpcror to make the tomb
worthy of the love he bore for the dead. A Mahomedan
— an adherent of the religion which degrades woman into
a position little better than that of an animal — was
destined to erect to the memory of a woman a monu-
ment justly considered to be the most beautiful example
of architecture ever designed, and one moreover which
every woman ma\- regard as a tribute to the benign
power of her sex to mitigate the storm and stress of
life.
328 The Modern Odyssey.
The Taj — the word is an abbreviation of Mumtaz —
is not well placed for effect, as it stands on a low site
close to the bank of the Jumna a mile below the Fort.
The first impression made by it on approaching Agra
by railway from the East is no doubt disappointing, as
the point of view is considerably higher than the base of
the mausoleum, which therefore seems to be smaller than
it is in reality. Its full beauty is not revealed to those
who gaze at it from a distance at which even the tawdry
palaces of Lucknow would appear to greater advantage.
But its charm is soon felt as, like the loadstone, it irre-
sistibly draws the spectator to it. It is such a calm,
pure, beautiful Thing. Yet no two persons think alike
upon it. The variety of the emotions which it excites is
shown by the different metaphors which have been
applied to it ; yet all of them agree in ascribing an
immaterial and unearthly character to it. It has been
called a Palace of Faery, a Dream in Marble, a Crystal-
lised Poem.
A road built during a famine fifty years ago leads to
a splendid gateway of red sandstone crowned with more
than a score of marble cupolas. The great door swings
back, and within is the Garden of the Taj. Paved paths
on either side of a narrow canal, in which many fountains
are playing, lead to the marble platform of the mauso-
leum. The waterway is divided in the middle of its
length by a cJiibootra or stage with a larger fountain
playing in the centre. The garden is under the care of
the Indian Government, but the water is stagnant
and dirty, and the flower-beds are not cared for as
gardens should be that lie under the shadow of the
loveliest edifice in the world.
From the gateway the Taj is seen gleaming at the
end of the avenue formed by the dark foliage of the
trees and shrubs bordering the canal, and in the still
The City cf Akbar. 329
water the white marble dome and arch arc reproduced
without a flaw. If the picture is beautiful when the
glistening stone is seen dazzling in the light of the
mid-day sun between the twin lines of the tall, sombre
growth of the garden, or when the red glow of the sunset
falls upon it from the west, it is enchanting by moonlight
when the silver domes and the minarets mysteriously
glimmer under the soft midnight sky. The scene is a
rarer vision than could be conjured by the most fanciful
and fertile imagination to delight the eye and thrill the
heart of man. The Taj seems to stand immeasurably
apart from the sin and the turmoil of the earth, and it is
hard to believe that it is not some exquisite mirage
which the magic of the desert has raised with a transitory
spell, and the ejaculations of admiration evoked from
the lips are spoken tremblingly lest the dream-fabric
should be shattered by some chance talismanic word.
The mausoleum is an octagon edifice. placed upon a
square marble terrace rising out of a platform of red
sandstone. At each corner of the terrace is a minaret,
and at the angles of the platform stand low towers of
red sandstone capped with white marble kiosks. A
swelling dome, the broadest portion of which, as is
customary in Saracenic architecture, is some distance
above the base, rises over all with a gilded spire having
a crescent at the summit. The dome is encompassed
by four smaller domes, and forms the culminating
point of the whole pile. Each end of the platform
is occupied by a mosque of red sandstone. Only the
mosque lying on the side nearest to Mecca is used
for prayer, the other being the Jaiuab or double neces-
sary to maintain the symmetrical arrangement of the
whole.
The vault containing the bodies of Shah Jehan and
the IMumtaz is reached by a falling incline of polished
330 The Modern Odyssey.
marble. The Empress's tomb is in the centre, where
the subdued Hght from the entrance can fall upon it. In
the hall immediately above the vault are the cenotaphs,
encircled by an octagonal screen of perforated and richly
ornamented marble. So wonderful is the fidelity of the
mosaics to nature that real flowers of all kinds seem to
be lying on the sarcophagi and clinging to the pierced
panels, and though the varying tints of the petals are
each of them a distinct fragment of a gem, the pieces
are so minute and so skilfully arranged that the colours
are perfectly graduated. Nor is the ear less charmed
than the eye. The notes of the voice are caught up and
repeated by the music of the echo, which swells and
soars and undulates and dies away at last with most
exquisite rhythm in the lofty chambers of marble ; and
the thrill of that melody never ceases to vibrate in the
ravished ears whereon it has once fallen.
When the Taj was completed the Emperor dreamed
a dream ; and an angel appeared before him, and told
him that it was the most beautiful thing in all the world,
and then the Emperor caused the ninety and nine appel-
lations of the Almighty to be inlaid upon the fabric
in letters of black marble. A large portion of the Koran
is also inscribed on the walls of the edifice in the beautiful
Persian character, which is itself a decoration.
Shah Jehan intended to erect a mausoleum for him-
self on the other bank of the Jumna, and to connect it
with the Taj by a bridge of silver, but fortunately for
his subjects — on whom the cost would have fallen — the
civil war between his sons, which ended in his deposition,
prevented him from carrying out his purpose. As an
American author neatly expresses it, " Eate conceded
to Love what it denied to Vanity." lie was buried by
the side of the Mumtaz-i-Mahal, and shared in death as
well as in life a palace with her.
The City of Akdar. 331
Shah Jchan is one of the suppressed characters of
History. To the great majority of educated persons his
name is unknown. Yet for more than thirty years he
governed a powerful State of which the annual revenue
was not less than that of some considerable European
monarchies at the present time ; and although the last
years of his reign were darkened by the quarrels of his
sons, his subjects were not oppressed as they had been
by some of his predecessors. A very pathetic interest
tinges the seven years of his captivity in the Palace of
Agra. He lived with his eyes almost constantly fixed
on the place where the embalmed body of his beloved
wife was lying. The recollection of the beautiful
IMumtaz consoled him in his prison, and the Jumna
at his feet bore his loving thoughts gently on its breast
to the cold marble bed on which she was resting. He
dwelt apart from the cruel world, and his imperishable
love salved the sting of his misfortunes. It has been
said that the living arc governed by the dead ; it is no
less true that the living are consoled by the dead.
CHAPTER XXIT.
CLOUDCUCKOOTOWN.
Simla, the summer capital of India, is a small town
perched up in the Himalayas. Few people, however, are
aware that it is little more than a hundred miles from
a province of the Chinese Empire, and that the Thibet
frontier and the nearest Indian railway are about equally
distant. Thus, as far as geographical position goes,
vSimla is situated midway between the fossil civilisation
of China and the upstart civilisation of Great Britain.
The moral barrier of Chinese exclusiveness and the
physical obstacle of the Himalayas have nevertheless
preserved Simla from permeation by customs or ideas
issuing from the adjacent frontier ; and it is in fact
often less Chinese in its ways than Downing Street.
On the other hand, its comparative inaccessibility by
railway gives it a serenity and a composure suitable to
the capital of a great Empire. Simla is an Olympus
where great men can stand at ease. Less than a square
inch of matter connects them with the outer world, and
if that were not composed of a few telegraph wires their
condition would be indeed most enviable.
Umballa, the screen through which men and women
and other things must be riddled before they can pass to
Simla, is a pleasant military station lying in the plain of
the Punjab within the blink of the eternal snows. Bar-
racks, parade grounds, broad roads, and bungalows are
Cl.OUDCUCKOOTOWX. 333
neatly arranged on the Maidan outside the native city.
Soldiers, sepoys, orderlies of the Punjab Cavalry, and
fox-terriers in dog-carts with their British subalterns in
attendance, continually pass to and fro. There is, how-
ever, little to distinguish Umballa from other stations,
except its relation to Simla, which enlivens it and gives
it some importance. It is the entrance lodge of Cloud-
cuckootown, and it is also renowned for its banyan
trees.
The road to Simla from Umballa traverses for nearly
forty miles a fairly level country until Kalka. at the foot
of the hills, is reached. The journey is usually made by
night, and is not uncomfortable. The interior of the
carriage is constructed so that it is possible to lie at full
length, and as the road is good the jolting is inconsider-
able. It is, however, often ntcessary to employ bullocks
to drag the vehicle through the rivers. At Kalka the
four-wheeled dak-gharry is exchanged for a light tonga,
a two- wheeled carriage with four seats placed back to
back, drawn by a pair of ponies. The arrangements of
the stages are excellent. Every few miles a fresh pair
is taken, and though the gradients arc heavy — Simla
being five thousand feet above Kalka — an average rate
of over seven miles an hour is maintained. The change
of horses is made in almost as short a time as in the
days of mail-coaches in England. Traces are not used,
but an iron cross-bar is fitted on to the shaft and attached
on each side to a groove in a light saddle, in such a
manner that the latter is allowed a certain amount of
lateral play. The ponies are well-bred, and often run
awa)' up the inclines. The only drawback is the dust.
The tojiga travels in a halo of it. With this exception
the journey from Kalka to Simla is pleasant, and not
made unduly long by unnecessary delays. The scenery
is fine, and the notes of the bugle which the driver
334 The Modern Odyssey.
constantly sounds in order to arouse the syces at the
changing stations and to warn approaching vehicles at
the corners, echo musically among the hills.
It is a rare delight to breathe cool air and to look
upon mountains face to face after many a long day
spent in the sultry plains below, glimpses of which still
appear now and then through the openings in the hills.
By leaving Umballa in the evening the lower ranges of
the Himalayas will be reached early next morning.
The dawn upon the peaks does not appear in gorgeous
colours, but in a very beautiful, pure, brilliant whitCf
which soon spreads over the eastern sky. A confused
mass of hills, ridges, and spurs seems to rise suddenly
on every side, and as the light becomes more intense, it
clothes itself in all shades of brown and blue, diversified
with patches of verdure in the places where the grass-
cutters have not yet been. The hill slopes are cultivated
in terraced fields. The air is so clear that the distant
peaks appear to be within a stone's- throw. ]3irds are
not scarce, and lizards are seen darting in and out of the
crannies of the walls. Tong trains of bullocks or camels
are frequently met, either resting at the open spaces by
the roadside with the native drivers curled up asleep in
rugs beside them, or trudging along and stirring up the
dust that lies so plentifully on an Indian highway. The
meek, patient, yet intelligent look of the gentle bullocks
contrasts strongly with the woebegone expression of the
camels. Children run after the tonga and shout for
backshish, which, judging from the size of the ap[)licants,
appears to be the first word that the Indian baby learns
to syllable upon its mother's knee.
The mountainous nature of the country compels the
road to take a very serpentine course. It was constructed
to develop commercial intercourse between Hindostan
and Thibet, but it carries little or no traffic for places
Cl UDCUCKOO TO \ VN. 335
beyond Simla. Sometimes it runs along the top of a
retaining wall built upon a steep slope, and twists back
upon itself after a circuit of nearly a mile. At one place
the military sanatorium of Dagshai, perched on the
summit of a precipice, almost overhangs it, and thence
for many miles it scars the face of a steep hill which
encompasses like an amphitheatre a cultivated valley.
A little further on it is borne upon the ridge which forms
the water-shed between the rivers flowing into the Bay of
Bengal and those discharging themselves into the Arabian
Sea. A drop of rain falling on one side would be carried
away to sea by the Indus, while its fellow, which a gust
of wind had tossed across the road, would go to swell
the volume of the sacred Ganges. At Solon, half-way
between Simla and Kalka, a dak bungalow gives the
traveller an opportunity of escaping from the dust, and
of slaking it with whisky and soda-water, while a khit-
Diitgar cooks some eggs or curries a chicken which he
has just caught after an exciting chase. Soon Simla,
gleaming in the sunlight, comes into view upon the crest
of a hill. It does not appear to be very far away, but
when the goal is near the miles grow longer, and the
road, moreover, has, in addition to many minor deviations,
to pass round a mountain and double back from the head
of a valley before the last milestone is reached : and at
length the crimson flowers of the rhododendrons glowing
in the midst of the foliage of the dingles are a sign that
Simla is near.
Simla is placed upon the ridges and shoulders of a
minor range of the Ilimahu-as, which rises to the height
of from six to eight thousand feet above the level of the
distant ocean. In one direction the town looks ujj to
the snowy peaks of the Chinese frontier ; in another it
overlooks the plains of the Punjab. As in mountain
ranges there is a snow-line, so on the heights occu[)ied
336 The Modern Odyssey.
by Simla there is a house-line. With few exceptions,
the higher parts only are inhabited, and the plan of the
station follows roughly the crest of the hills. It is a
long, narrow settlement, with arms issuing out of it at
various angles. The steep sides of the gullies below are
covered with rhododendrons and cedars, whose aromatic
fragrance fills the serene air. Simla is not a strictly
beautiful place, but the scenery is wild ; and leopards
occasionally venture into the compounds, and they have
been known to seize the pet dogs of the British com-
munity. Monkeys are plentiful, and not only infest the
groves, but climb on to the roofs so as to be in the way
of stealing anything handy. The mountains are scarred
by bare volcanic furrows ; and though the woods do not
deserve the title of forest nor consist of forest trees, they
present a mass of foliage which is agreeable to the
eye. There is, perhaps, too much detail in the prospect,
without the Himalayan grandeur. No lofty ranges as at
Darjecling tower above Simla. It owes much of its re-
putation to the relief felt by those who go up to it
from the scorching plains. Many other hill stations
have greater natural and acquired advantages; but
Simla in spite of its inaccessibility maintains the pre-
eminence, chiefly because it is the summer capital of
India. If it were ever forsaken by the Government,
it would probably be seldom visited. Nature is usually
worsted in a struggle with P'ashion.
The topography of Simla is simple. Jakko and
Prospect Hills form the extremities of the town and are
connected by a narrow ridge or plateau. Elysium Hill
juts out at right angles, and the deep valley of Annan-
dale, containing the cricket-ground, the racecourse, and
the public gardens, lies at the foot of the steep north-
ward face of the ridge. A few streets have been built
on the southward slope. The hills are wooded, but
Cloudcuckootown. 337
many of the trees have been removed to make way for
the villas, most of which are pleasantly situated where
the gleam of light from snowy ranges can reach them.
Little, however, can be said for their architectural merits.
To combine comfort with comeliness seems to be beyond
the power of those who build houses for Anglo-Indians
to live in. The slopes when seen from the ridge appear
to be covered with corrugated iron. Every house is
roofed with it, and the metallic lustre glitters dis-
agreeably in the midst of the woods and on the hill-
sides.
Nor are the public edifices of Simla less unattractive.
It is the habit, or possibly the destiny, of British Govern-
ments to spoil the appearance of the places which come
under their dominion. For a long time it was uncertain
whether Simla would be a temporary encampment of
officials, until some more suitable site could be found, or
the established capital of India during the hot season:
but after several years of indecision the authorities
fixed their choice upon Simla. Government Offices
were erected, the style adopted being that of the model
lodging-house in London with certain embellishments.
The outside stairs, the verandahs, and the iron pillars
make the resemblance almost perfect. The munici-
pality of an English country town, or even a School
Board, would have installed itself more handsomely.
There is scarcely a house in Simla which would not look
indifferent -in a desert. The small native bazaar alone is
picturesque. The absence of all attempts to make the
appearance of the station congenial to its position and
surroundings is remarkable. Simla might ha\-e been
built by a speculating contractor. The new \'ice-Regal
Residence which the men of Cooper's Mill arc erecting
is, ho\ve\"er, likely to be an ornament rather than a dis-
figurement to rrus}x-ct Hill.
338 The Modern Odyssey.
The mansion occupied by the Viceroy bears the
name of Peterhof. Whether it was so called in order to
pay an ironical compliment to the Autocrat of Russia
and would-be potentate of Hindostan is not known.
Certainly not many English officials would be guilty
of such fine satire.
CHAPTER XXIir.
FROM DELHI TO BOMBAY.
The power of the Governor-General in Council, tem-
pered by the occasional interference of the House of
Commons, is supreme from the banks of the Huf^hli
to the upper waters of the Jumna ; and in travelling
through India from Calcutta to Delhi no district is
traversed in which an intermediate authority exists
between the Indian Government and the people.
The sway of England, however, is not exercised
directly over the whole of Hindostan. Some provinces
have been retained under the hereditary sovereignty of
native Princes, who, so long as they treat their subjects
leniently, promulgate just laws, and commit no act pre-
judicial to the Indian Empire, arc not coerced. The
position of these States is in some respects analogous to
that of the States of the American Republic. They are
not permitted to form external alliances, but they are
autonomous in matters not involving imperial polic\' :
and though subject to the suzerainty of a despotic
Government, they enjoy a liberal measure of Home
Rule. They may maintain a military f(^rcc, and are
even encouraged to do so ; and their recognised rulers
possess many of the prerogatives of Ro\-alty. The
prerogative to which a Native Prince attaches most im-
portance is the right to be saluted by artillcr\-, and
no greater punishment can be inflicted on him than
W 2
340 The Modern Odyssey.
the reduction of the number of guns to which he is
entitled. To be deprived of his proper ration of gun-
powder when on progress is as irritating to the feelings
of an Indian Rajah as the ignoring of her rightful pre-
cedence is to an Englishwoman in middle-class society.
Rajputana, a district lying south of the Punjab, is
mainly composed of small native states. The western
portion is a sandy desert, but the remainder is a fairly
fertile country, broken by hills of no great elevation. It
is traversed by a narrow-gauge railway which connects
the Punjab with Bombay. It had been intended that
the line should be of the standard gauge, but con-
siderations of economy intervened, with the result that
the carriages are small and unsteady, and that the
journey of less than two hundred miles between Delhi
and Jcypore occupies eleven hours. Jcypore, the capital
of a native state of the same name, is one of the most
beautiful places in India, though it is a modern city, and
though it has been for many years under the sway of
Maharajahs of reforming tendencies. These princes,
however, have had the good sense to adapt rather than
adopt P2uropean resources of civilisation.
P'ortified hills surround Jeypore on three sides. At the
time of the Prince of Wales's visit the word Welcome
was inscribed in white letters on one of the slopes, and
it remains a conspicuous feature of the scenery ; but the
kindly intention of the act disarms criticism of its effect
upon the landscape. The city is surrounded by a lofty
wall of red sandstone pierced by handsome gatewaj's,
some of which are enclosed in extramural courtyards.
The streets are wide and clean, and laid out in rect-
angular blocks ; and the roadways and the sidepaths
are not only paved, but also in better condition than
those of many English and most .American towns.
Jc)'pore is one of the few Indian cities lit by gas, and
From Dfj.hi to Bombay. 341
the lamps arc of a really ornamental pattern. A tram-
way conveys the refuse to a waste place outside the
walls. The houses are well-built, large, and handsome.
The pink plaster, ornamented with designs in white and
colours, with which they are covered, gives them a
peculiarly smart appearance. A School of Art in the
main street shows that the influence of the age has
reached even a small native state in India. The ex-
cellent drinking water which has been brought from a
river a few miles distant proves that modern sanitation —
the contemporary of modern art — has not been forgotten.
The security of life and property in Jeypore is de-
monstrated by the huge canopied bedsteads placed
outside the houses on the footways, where during the
hot weather a large proportion of the inhabitants pass
the night. The names of the streets are legibly inscribed
on the corners in Native and European characters. The
number of the European residents does not exceed fifty,
and the crowds of people thronging the thoroughfares
rarely contain a non-Asiatic unit.
It is said and acknowledged even by some Anglo-
Indian officials that the condition of the natives is more
prosperous in native states than in the provinces under
direct British rule, and the appearance of Jeypore bears
out the assertion. The broad, airy streets, the substantial
houses of many stories, the demeanour of the traders in
the market-places contrast favourably with the narrow
allc\'s, squalid ho\cls, and other marks of poverty visible
in the cities of the Gangetic plain. It is possible, how-
ever, that the more benevolent s}'stem of government
may give better protection to the poorer and weaker
classes, who under native rulers are liable to be thrust
out of the community ; and that the apparent])' greater
prosperity of the native states, which is very remarkable,
is in fact the result of the survival of the fittest.
342 The Modern Odyssey.
The Palace of the Maharajah and its appurtenances
occupy a large area within the walls, the stables and
exercising grounds alone covering many acres. The
horses are fed upon butter, and are as fat and their
coats as glossy as the unusual combination of gee and
ghee can make them. They are secured by a rope
attached to each leg. The fore-legs are tethered by
short lengths under the manger ; and two longer lines
from the hind-feet, running through a ring fastened a
{q\v paces behind the heels, allow them a certain
freedom of action. There are no divisions between the
stalls, and the stables are open at the back. White
is the favourite colour, and many breeds are represented,
including Walers, Arabs, and English hunters and cobs.
A large room is filled with a collection of English
saddles, and in a paddock at the end of the quadrangle
stand the steeds reserved for the use of English travellers,
to whom the Maharajah courteously offers the means of
making excursions in his dominions. The horses, how-
ever, are more fit for taking part in the pompous pro-
cession of an Eastern potentate than for hard work
across country, as an abundance of rich food produces
ungainly proportions which gentle exercise in the court-
yard cannot modify. At the side of the quadrangle rises
a tower from which the Maharajah is accustomed to
survey his fair city.
Not only the human but also the animal population
of Jeypore appear to live and thrive. This, however, is
not peculiar to that city. All over India the traveller is
struck by the fearlessness of the animals. The flocks of
pigeons congregating in the open spaces, surrounded by
all the bustle of an Oriental bazaar, as well as the pea-
cocks strutting about outside the city walls, testify to the
kindly nature of the people. The sparrows come into
the houses without suspicion ; the goats and cattle
From Delhi to Bo.vnAV. 343
roaming along the roads hardly take the trouble to get
out of the way. Even the squirrels may be approached
within a few feet, and the pariah dogs lying inthemiddle of
the streets, or curled up under the kerbstone, often cause
a ^^ss\v\g gharry or bullock-cart to turn aside. In Eng-
land the first instinct of an unoccupied man is a desire to
kill something. The victim may be a stag, or it may be
a stickleback. Sometimes a gentle dove is his quarry.
When circumstances render it more convenient that he
should not take life with his own hand, the operation is
performed by proxy. Hounds are sent in pursuit of the
fox, and terriers are encouraged to worry cats. A harm-
less animal in England stands in almost as great danger
as a noxious animal. But happily in India the English
are not yet so numerous that the dumb creatures have
lost all their confidence in man.
Not only is Jeypore one of the most beautiful cities
in Hindustan, but the most beautiful gardens He under
its walls. They were planned by a German, and laid
out by the late Maharajah at great expense. The turf
is as green as on an English lawn, and the flower-beds
are both neat and artistically disposed. Conduits and
intersecting channels of water keep each plant and tree
as fresh as is possible under a tropical sun. Every part
is free and accessible to all, and notices forbidding the
plucking of flowers or other misbehaviour are rendered
unnecessary by the absence of a rough or larrikin cle-
ment, which is non-existent among the lower classes of
India. Numbers of natives are constantly seen strolling
along the paths, or even sitting on the benches — a novel
position of rest for an Eastern, who usuall}^ squats upon
his heels. In the centre of the gardens stands the
Museum, a modern \'et admirable Saracenic cilihcc of
white stone, containing a small and excellcntK' arranged
collection of the usual specimens and objects. All the
344 The Modern Odyssey.
interior fittings are in perfect taste. An open colonnaded
court is ornamented with the sayings * of the wise men
of India inlaid upon the walls in Hindustani and
English.
Everywhere the hand and the mind of an enlightened
native Prince are discernible, and Jeypore stands alone,
or almost alone, among the cities of India for good
appearance and rational assimilation of European ideas,
while at the same time the native and picturesque
element is not unduly thrown into the background. The
State of Jeypore is not harassed by the entanglements
of foreign policy or local politics, and therefore all the
attention of its rulers can be directed to the welfare of
the people. It is protected by the Indian Government
from external assaults, and gently guided in internal
matters by the experience of the Lords of Hindustan.
The municipal institutions of Europe cannot show many
cities — not mere places of pleasure resort — better ordered,
more attractive, or apparently more happy than the
city of Jeypore. The majority of country towns in Eng-
land might take lessons from it ; and if ever an observant
native of Jeypore should cross the " black water" to the
land which holds India in its grasp, he will not find
many things relating to the government of cities very
worthy of imitation ; and if he were inclined to investi-
gate the various political systems of Europe, he would
probably come to the conclusion that the form of
government most conducive to the happiness of the
people is an intelligent and benevolent despotism, such
as that of the Maharajah of Jeypore.
The ruins of Amber, the ancient capital of Jeypore,
lying within a few miles of the modern city, emphasise
the distinction between old and new India. The road
* One of tliese is striking enough to be reproduced — " Life is a Bridge,
wliicli men should cross but not build upon."
From Delhi to Bombay. 345
passes through the northern gate out of the turmoil, and
traverses a forsaken plain strewn with relics of old
palaces and pleasanccs. On one side is a deserted
pavilion rising from the midst of a shallow lake ; on the
other are abandoned gardens full of beautiful weeds.
Kiosks at the angles of the walls, belvederes, prospect
towers, and summer-houses preserve in decay their
original architectural grace, and the columns which
supported the domes and roofs of the halls for many
generations have survived the Oriental caprice for whose
gratification they were erected. A considerable space
between Jeypore and Amber is covered with the haunts
of former Maharajahs. Now the little waves of the mere
lap upon the disjointed steps and wash the fallen pillars
of the island palace ; lizards, squirrels, and parrots hold
undisturbed possession of the gardens, whose beauty,
though impaired by neglect, has not been destroyed. The
aspect of the lonely lake, and the waned splendour of the
edifices on its margin, are full of melancholy loveliness.
By the kindness of the Maharajah, elephants are
provided for the use of English travellers desirous of
seeing Amber. An elephant, however, is not altogether
a comfortable beast of burden. The sidelong, swa}'ing
motion is disagreeable to a novice, who finds some diffi-
culty in keeping his seat on the padded saddle ; but the
intelligence and common-sense of the great unwieldy
brute soon reconcile the rider to an uneasy position. An
elephant never makes a blunder in obe\-ing the verbal
instructions of his driver, and is as careful of his rider's
safety as of his own.
The road, after crossing the narrow plain of ruined
palaces, begins to ascend to a pass in the hills, whence it
descends gradually to the banks of a calm and clear
lake, and brings the deserted cit}- into view beyond. A
steep slope rises from the northern shore, a palace stands
346 The Modern Odyssey.
proudly on the hill-side above the water, and the sum-
mit is crowned with a fort. Next to the appearance of
Benares on the banks of the Ganges, the scene on the
silent Amber Lake is the most impressive in India. A
zigzag path leads up to the palace, the only edifice in
Amber still intact. A square garden, green with
foliage, seems to float upon the water below the palace
walls, which rise sheer from the shore. For solitary
romantic grandeur Amber cannot be surpassed, and its
loneliness is soothing and acceptable after the thronged
streets and teeming life of other Indian cities. The hills,
except in one place where a depression reveals a glimpse
of the Rajputana plain, exclude the outer world from
view. The scene from the palace roof, midway between
the luminous surface of the lake and the fort which
overhangs it, is weird and unreal. The long castellated
walls, rising and falling across hill and valley, are no
longer needed to keep out the foe. Half-ruined but
still handsome houses fill up the valley below the re-
taining embankment of the lake, and razed walls litter
the slopes. No crowds jostle in the streets, the bazaars
are closed, hardly a footstep is heard ; the only inhabit-
ants are a few Hindoo priests. The strange silence,
the absence of motion or life, the dark-grey ruins of a
once populous city sleeping in the bright sunshine,
the lack of those brilliant colours that are seen every-
where in the East, the hollow echoes in the houses that
are no longer homes, the pathos of the place — all
these touch the heart like the memory of some mournful
melody or fragment of song once heard from the lips of
her who has long since passed away. The ruins of
Amber, though by different means, impress the mind
with the sense of that melancholy, pathetic beauty
which is the characteristic of the Blue Mountains of
New South Wales.
From Delhi to Bombay. 347
Ajmere is a British state in the heart of Rajputana,
distant about a hundred miles from Jeypore. The city
is well placed among the hills, but the traveller coming
from the latter will find it deficient in interest and
beauty. British rule seldom enhances the natural
attractions of a city, but it is a convenient halting-place
on the journey from Delhi to Bombay. It is bordered
by a lake which here neutralises the tendency of Indian
scenery to become monotonous. The streets are narrow
and dirty, the principal sight is an ill-kept mosque, and
the commercial community is composed mainly of money-
lenders. Mayo College, a benevolent experiment of the
Indian Government, stands on the plain outside the city.
It is a Saracenic building, designed by a military archi-
tect, to whose reputation it will not add, for the education
of young Indian Princes, who reside in mansions in the
grounds. Though well equipped and organised, it has
not been a success. The young rajahs have not flocked
to the well of knowledge, and the old rajahs who con-
tributed to the cost of the institution now find themselves
called upon to keep it out of debt. Ajmere is not a
place where many days can be pleasantly spent. The
scenery, though pretty, is too frequently obscured by a
cloud of dust, which even a gentle breeze calls up out of
the Rajputana wastes.
An interval of twenty-four hours spent in a train, and
made less endurable by the difficulty of procuring food
on the way, separates Ajmere from Ahmcdabad, which
travellers will rejoice to find is the terminus of the narrow-
gauge railway. There was a time when Ahmedabad
was the most splendid city in Western India, with nearly
a million inhabitants — more than nine times its present
population. It had originally belonged to the Maho-
medan Empire of Delhi, but the viceroys, following the
34^ The Modern Odyssey.
usual practice of an Indian lieutenant * threw off their al-
legiance and became independent Sovereigns of Gujerat.
Great prosperity followed, as in the case of America,
the declaration of independence. Trade expanded, and
some of the arts flourished. But prosperity begat
internal dissensions, and at last the great Akbar was
called in by one political party ; an interference which
naturally resulted in the re-annexation of the city to the
Mogul Empire. Though Ahmedabad lost its freedom
it regained its good fortune, and a traveller who saw it
at the end of the seventeenth century compares it to
Venice. When the suzerain Empire fell to pieces, the
Saturnian days returned no more. The princes of the
Imperial house fought for it, the Mahrattas captured
and pillaged it more than once, and a century of mis-
fortune was brought to a close when it fell for the second
time into tlie hands of the English, under whose authority
the Pax liritaniiica has lasted seventy years. The
history of Ahmedabad is in its leading events an
epitome of the history of Hindustan.
The founders of Ahmedabad were Mahomcdans, but
they were not fanatics, and they saw no reason to reject
what was admirable in Hindoo architecture. The com-
bination of the Hindoo with the Saracenic style in the
tombs and mosques is perfectly effected, h^ach borrows
from the other that which it itself lacks. The super-
abundance of ornamental detail peculiar to the fornier is
tempered by the greater simplicity of the latter, and an
even balance is maintained between opposing tendencies.
Composite orders are not usually successful, but the
Jumma Musjid, which is both Hindoo and Saracenic, is
one of the most beautiful edifices in India. The plan of
* To this (l.iy the loyalty of the British proconsuls to the Home
Government is a source of surprise to the Indian natives, who think that
the securities against usurpation are insufficient.
From Delhi to Bombay. . 349
the building is Saracenic, while most of the details are
Hindoo. No less than two hundred and sixty pillars
with richly carved capitals support the fifteen domes of
the Hall of Prayer, and perforated marble screens, more
exquisitely chiselled than those of Delhi or Agra, set
apart the aisle of the women. The city, though more
than four hundred years old, is regularly laid out in
blocks — a system which was only adopted in the West
within the memory of living persons. The fronts of the
houses are curiously ornamented with a course of carved
work at the level of the first floor ; and stucco, the bane
of architecture, is not used. A splendid triple gateway
spans the main street.
The Bombay, Baroda and Central India Railway
connects Ahmedabad with Bombay. It runs along the
coast for the greater part of the distance, and crosses
the mouth of the Nerbudda and other estuaries. The
district was once subject to the House of Braganza, and
in some of the seaports the churches built by the
Portuguese remain, and the flag which carried Vasco di
Gama round the Cape of Good Hope still floats at
Damaun. Bombay v;as the dowry brought by a Portu-
guese princess to an English monarch, by whom it was
so little valued that he sold it to a company of merchant
adventurers for an annuity of ij^io. He regarded it, as
well as Dunkirk, which he also put in the market, much
as a landowner in difficulties regards detached or outlying
portions of his estate — as a possession to be disposed of
without hesitation when burdens nearer home become
oppressive. Bombay — the word is a Portuguese corrup-
tion of a native name — was formerly an island, but the
railway embankments and causeways which have been
constructed across the shallow lagoons separating it
from the mainland have converted it into a peninsula.
During the early years of its connection with Great
350 The Modern Odyssey.
Britain it was frequently harassed by the Mahrattas, and
its existence was so precarious that it suffered greatly
from the hostility of an Abyssinian piratical admiral. It
did not become the capital of the Presidency until the
beginning of this century, nor a very important place
until much later. If in former years the Red Sea floated
the ships of its greatest enemy, history after an interval
of two hundred years redressed the wrong. The open-
ing of the Suez Canal and the European fleets passing
thence into the Red Sea and onwards to Bombay as the
Indian port most accessible to the West have made the
despised dot of Catharine of Braganza the foremost
place in Hindustan.
Bombay, as it appears from the anchorage, somewhat
resembles Liverpool. Few Oriental peculiarities are
observable. The haven is crowded with European
shipping. The lateen sails of the boats, almost the
only feature that would seem unfamiliar in an English
harbour, were probably introduced by the Portuguese
from the Mediterranean. On the tongue of land form-
ing with Malabar Hill the outline of a foot is the
European and business quarter. The streets are wide,
parks and gardens surround the official buildings and
border the sea-wall. A handsome Church, parades and
barracks, a disused lighthouse, and a Cemetery occupy
the promontory of Colaba Point. On the harbour side
of the thin part of the foot are the cotton wharves and
the Apollo Bunder, a landing stage which receives the
first and last impress of the feet of nearly all the military
and civilian props of the British Empire in India.
When seen at a sufficient distance the public build-
ings of Bombay, like the Palaces of Lucknow, are
imposing. The shortcomings of edifices designed by
officers of the Royal Engineers are perhaps inevitable,
and in the huge pile of the Secretariat they are con-
From Delhi to Bombay. 351
spicuous. The style is Venetian Gothic, as understood
at Chatham or Addiscombe, and all that can be said
is that it might have been worse. The building is of
great length, and the similarity of the ends gives it a
commonplace appearance. Nor are the erections of the
professional architects much more successful. The
Courts of Justice are called by the local guide-book,
which no doubt is disposed to be favourable, " the
ugliest building in Bombay ; " and internally the ad-
mission of light and air is unduly restricted, and the
acoustic properties are bad — an echo of the complaints
so often heard at home. The Senate Hall of the
University, which was designed by a celebrated English
architect, might be mistaken for a College Chapel.
Four feeble spires at the corners, vulgar ornamentation,
and discordant details evoke wistful recollections of
Agra and Ahmedabad. A tall and really beautiful
tower surmounts the diminutive University Library,
like a lighthouse soaring above the lighthouse keeper's
cottage. The finest edifice in Bombay is the ter-
minus of the Great Indian Peninsula Railway, which
is probably the most splendid railway-station in the
world. In the distance it has often been mistaken for
a Cathedral.
Bombay possesses few sights or globe - trotters'
shrines. At Elephanta, an island six miles across the
bay, are the renowned Cave Temples. Aisles, vestibules,
and halls hewn out of the living rock show a priiiiiti\c
form of architecture in its greatest perfection. On the
road from the Esplanade to Malabar Hill three methods
of disposing of the dead can be seen, one of wliich is
Elephanta's only competitor as a sigiit to attract the
curious attention of travellers. The smoke rising from
behind the long black wall near the sea comes frtjm
the Hindoo funeral pyres. A little further on is the
352 The Modern Odyssey.
Mahomedan burying-ground. When the road begins
to ascend the hill, the vultures perched on the trees
indicate tb.e proximity of the Parsee Towers of Silence,
in which the dead of that sect are placed and devoured
by the birds. The towers are ten to twelve feet in
height, and the bodies are laid on platforms inside,
divided into three concentric circles, for men, women,
and children respectively. The vultures are an acci-
dental accessory which cannot be avoided when corpses
are exposed in India ; but no significance is attached by
the Parsees to the part taken by them in the ceremony.
Next to cremation, which is abhorred by the Parsees on
account of the pollution of the sacred fire which they
worship, this appears to be the most reasonable wa of
disposing of the dead in hot climates.
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE ARABIAN ClULF AND THE RED SEA.
It is no doubt a pleasant thing, as Lucretius says, to
stand upon some eminence beyond the reach of the
waves and contemplate a storm at sea ; but the traveller
who, after spending the winter months in India, is over-
taken by the hot weather and rushes down to Bombay
only to find that all the ships are full for several weeks
to come, will, when at length he succeeds in escaping
from the country, declare that it is still more delightful
to lean against the rail of a homeward bound mail-
steamer and watch the shore with all its discomforts
slowly sinking below the horizon. No one who was
not compelled to do so would remain in Bombay during
April. A strong heat, which is scarcely tempered by a
faint sea-breeze for a few hours of the day, makes the
slightest bodily exertion an act not lightly to be under-
taken ; but, however enervating it may be to the human
frame, it seems to stimulate the activity of the flies and
fleas. The Bombay moscjuito is a remarkable insect, who
has never )ct had justice done to him b\' the entomo-
logists. L'nlike the ant or the bee, he loves industry
for its own sake, and not from tlic selfish motive of
providing himself with food and lodging for the winter.
Brisk, active, and alert ; persevering, yet seldom dis-
heartened ; cheerfully humming a tune while at his
work, he is an example that cvcr\-one would do well
X
354 The Modern Odyssey.
to follow ; and in addition to his moral good qualities,
he possesses the unique power of being in two or more
places at once.
When the weather has been officially declared to be
hot by a despotic Government whose authority ex-
tends to the thermometer, streams of soldiers, civilians,
travellers, and their women-kind flow from all parts of
the Indian Empire and meet at the Apollo Bunder
at Bombay, whence they are drafted off in steam
launches to the homeward-bound ships at anchor in
the harbour. By sunset the hot and hazy coast has
faded out of sight, and the fresh breeze blows in
through the portholes as the vessel steams across the
tranquil Indian Ocean. Many of the fleas and all the
mosquitoes have disappeared, and the struggle to keep
cool is over for a {&-'N days at least. The truest kind
of pleasure is that which is derived from the sudden
cessation of discomfort.
A fortnight may be spent very agreeably and sociably
on board a P. and O. steamer leaving Bombay at the
beginning of the hot weather. Each of the three chief
branches of the Anglo-Saxon race — the Anglo-Indian,
the American, and tlic li^nglish — is usually represented
on the ship. A cursory observation of appearance and
demeanour is sufficient to determine the class to which
any individual must be assigned. The jaded look upon
the countenance and something in the manner which be-
trays a consciousness of transition from a position of im-
portance in India to one of obscurity at home indicate the
Anglo-Indian civil or military official. A proportion of the
married women larger in thisclassthan in any other female
section of the community is addicted to flirtations behind
the wheel-house or in retired corners of the quarter-deck.
The women m question are not generally sociable, and
except when they quarrel seldom exchange a word with
The Arabian Gulf and the Red Sea. 355
their own sex, but devote themselves to the " noblest
study of mankind," namely Man. The effects of sea-
sickness upon a she-Anglo-Indian's complexion already
injured by a tropical climate is sometimes appalling, and
one of the most touching instances of the poodle-like
fidelity of man is the constancy with which their admirers
cling to them under such circumstances. An Anglo-
Indian woman requires both the favour of nature and
the appliances of art for the preservation of her good
looks ; and when she lies sea-sick, yellow and dishevelled,
wrapped in an unbecoming rug and blown upon by a
head-wind, she is not an attractive object, and the
cavalier scrvcute who can survive the ordeal of dis-
enchantment is worthy of some nobler career. When the
weather is fine and she has been able to spend a few
hours on her toilette, she will appear upon the quarter-
deck clothed in white attire and scenting the air with
her perfumes, and then she is beyond the reach of criti-
cism. The little artifices she uses, the transparent at-
tentions and flatteries with which she keeps her elderly
pucka husband — who if unsuspicious is at least irritable
— in a good humour are noticed by everyone except the
person most concerned in them. Sometimes the Nemesis
of family duties overtakes her : as, for example, when the
cries of her child making every cabin near the saloon
uninhabitable reach her in her Nirvana in some remote
corner of the ship, and she is compelled to throw aside her
cigarette and break off a promising flirtation in order to
pacify the poor, desolate, wee thing whom no one cares
for save the alien ayaJi.
On the other hand, the male Anglo-Indian — though
as a rule he exhibits the negative side of his character
out of India — occasionally becomes remarkably domestic
on the homeward voyage. i\ P. and O. steamer which
left Bombay not long ago saw the spectacle of a well-
X 2
35^ • The Modern Odyssey.
known soldier, who had not only won but had also
earned the Victoria Cross, sedulously attending to the
wants of his young family — rocking their cradles ; blow-
ing their little noses ; succouring them when they were
sea-sick with all the skill of an Atlantic steward ; and
every morning before breakfast milking with his own
hands the goats which he had brought on board for their
use — offering a striking contrast to the methods by which
the married women aided by the bachelors were be-
guiling the tedium of the voyage.
The American travelling contingent is usually an
agreeable addition to the passenger list of any ship. The
spread-eagle Yankee who talks perpetually of dollars
and brandishes the Stars and Stripes is becoming rarer
than was the case a few years ago, and his place has
been taken by the American gentleman, who, if some-
what reserved and hard of acquaintance, is well-informed,
courteous, and reasonably unprejudiced. The temper
and appearance of American women are not greatly
affected by the v^•ant of long looking-glasses on board
ship, which cannot be always said of their English
sisters. The former are clannish, and can talk to one
another without giving an observer the impression that
they are engaged in mutual if veiled criticism. One
American girl will pass a whole afternoon by the side of
another with apparent satisfaction. If they chatter too
much, and in no subdued tones, their conversation is
free from feline amenities. They possess the quality of
loyalty to their own sex in which the British female is so
remarkably deficient.
It must not be supposed that they avoid the society
of Man. Far from it. The American girl ingenuously
owns that she adores him. She flirts with him frankly,
openly, and without offence. She is impartial, and
while the greater part of her time is spent with him, the
The Arabian Gulf and the Red Sea. 357
individual is constantly changed. If she feels any pre-
ference she has sufficient self-control to hide it. Her in-
telligence, sincerity, vivacity, knowledge of the world,
and freedom from prudery and artificial manners make
her society a pleasure which is wholesomely tempered
by a habit of speaking her thoughts without restraint
and her candour in expressing her opinions. When
married, her conduct is irreproachable. A fast American
married woman is seldom seen except in London. The
behaviour of an American married woman on board an
Indian steamer is commonly a great contrast to that of a
piratical Anglo-Indian wife or grass widow, who is in
most cases her inferior in intellect, good manners, good
looks, and correct instinct of dress. She has withdrawn
from the contest, and from the serene heights of matri-
mony she complacently watches the gambols below.
Except for a few montiis during the monsoon, the
Indian Ocean is tolerably calm. The Anglo-Indian is
spared for the first part of his journey at least the degra-
dation of sea-sickness — no slight boon for one who has
been accustomed to have all his wishes fulfilled and all
his discomforts removed by a crowd of cringeing servants.
Yet the more impartial waves of the Red Sea lay him on
his back occasionally, and then he learns that though up
on the hills or in the cantonments he may be a person of
consideration, nevertheless he is not respected by the
heaving sea.
If the ship reaches Aden after sunset and leaves
before the dawn, the lost opportunity of seeing a coaling
station where rain falls but once in the \-car need not be
regretted. The ancient water-tanks are the only remark-
able objects in the place. The cheapness of ostrich
feathers is sometimes mentioned by ladies as an induce-
ment to go ashore.
358 The Modern Odyssey.
The Red Sea is a long and narrow arm which the
Indian Ocean stretched out to greet the Mediterranean
between the continents of Asia and Africa, but the limb
v/as withered when it touched the scorching sands of the
Egyptian desert. Not a single river refreshes its salt
waters. Shoals, rocks, and islands encumber the fair-
w^ay, and the twelve hundred miles between Aden and
Suez are beset with more dangers than almost any other
equally frequented track. The heat is often intolerable.
The quarter-deck of a steamer at night during the
summer resembles a hospital ward. Everyone sleeps
on deck. A row of beds on the starboard side is occu-
pied by the ladies, and the port side is reserved for the
men. On some lines dinner is served on deck.
Neither the geography books nor the well-informed
people have explained satisfactorily how the Red Sea
obtained its name. The colour is not only not pre-
dominant, but is not even traceable. At the Straits
of Babel- mandeb, the Gate of Tears, where Asia is
separated from Africa by a narrow belt of water, the
entrance is guarded by the Island of Perim. The well-
known circumstances of its occupation by British troops
illustrate at the same time a common trait in the French
character and an unusual trait in the luiglish character.
If a Frenchman had been able to resist the temptation
of betraying a secret to a woman, and if an luiglish-
woman had not for once shown uncommon discretion in
betraying it, the British flag would not now be floating
over Perim.
The first attempt of the French to effect a settlement
on the Red Sea failed through a P^renchman's inability
to resist a woman's influence, but the failure was after-
wards rectified, and two or three islands opposite Perim
are now adorned by the tricolor. Italy has at length
recovered from the exhaustion consequent on giving
The Arabian Gulf and the Red Sea. 359
birth to Columbus, and is attempting to found a colony
on the Abyssinian coast, but her efforts have not been
very successful ; and a precarious footing behind
entrenchments at Massovvah will not compensate her
for the P'rench occupation of Tunis.
The Gulf of Suez is but a few miles in width, and
may be considered the estuary of the Canal. The hills
on cither side are rocky and bare of vegetation, but the
colouring is very beautiful. Fairy-like hues of the palest
purple and pink upon the land intervene between the tur-
quoise sea and the azure sky ; and as Suez is approached
the hills seem to stand aside and the thin line of the
trleamine: desert rises out of the horizon.
CHAPTER XXV.
THE LAND OF THE DELTA.
There is an Arab tradition, which may possibly be the
fossil history of a period when the seas were not so
widely sundered, that in some midway spot of the desert
the call of the Mediterranean waves may be heard as
well as the answering lisp of the Gulf of Suez. To unite
the waters was a scheme often entertained and some-
times attempted — for the consummation of Nature^s
Almosts is man's favourite project — and the trough of
a former channel is still discernible in the sands ; but it
is only within the last generation that the divorced seas
have been linked together by the persistent energy of a
Frenchman, who, in spite of opposition from all the
practical men of the day, completed a work worthy to
be classed with the Pyramids in magnitude and far
superior to them in prospect of abiding utility. In a
very k\v years he restored Egypt to the position \\hich
she occupied in the world before the discovery of the
Cape of Good Hope, and enabled her to become once
more the highway between the East and the West.
The interest felt in the Pyramids is antiquarian,
romantic, and speculative ; and they appear to have
originated in personal or national pride, akin to the
partiality now felt in America for colossal objects or to
the modern desire to erect magnificent but useless
edifices such as the Eiffel Tower in Paris. The Suez
The Land of the Delta. 361
Canal, a splendid work though not striking to the eye,
is one of the noblest memorials which the nineteenth
century can leave behind it ; and if in some future gene-
ration, as far removed from the present time as the age
of the Pharaohs, its origin and purpose should be
involved in mystery through the supercession of ships
by some other method of transportation, the archreo-
logists and Egyptologists of that period will surely
credit the engineers of the age in which we now live
with genius not inferior to that displayed by the archi-
tects of the Pyramids, which are still the wonder of the
world, and which remain, both as to their object and the
means by which they were erected, an unanswered
riddle.
The Indian steamers wait an hour or two at Suez to
embark the Canal pilot. An additional plate is affixed
to the rudder ; and if the ship is about to make the
passage by night, the apparatus of an electric light is
taken on board. Though the Canal is of considerable
width, the fairway, which is marked out by an avenue of
buoys, will only admit one ship at a time, as the nature
of the soil necessitates a broad, shelving margin on
either side of the deep water in the centre. The banks
are high enough to exclude the view of the gleaming
desert, but the glare of the sunlight even upon these is
dazzling and painful to the eye. At intervals of a few
miles are the block stations where the navigable channel
is widened to allow meeting ships to pass. The traffic
is regulated as upon a single line of railway,
A few hours after leaving Suez the Bitter Lakes are
entered. They are shallow sheets of water through
which a passage has been dredged. Beacons illuminated
at night indicate the channel, and here the speed is
slightly increased. The central section of the canal
is bordered b}' higher banks, and on the shores a few
362 The Modern Odyssey.
reeds and bushes are seen. A high wind often delays
the traffic — not only from the increased difficulty of
keeping a steamer in the very narrow fairway when
a lateral force is pushing her constantly to one side,
but also from the sand obscuring the view. It is im-
possible to keep out the particles : though every port-
hole and cabin door be closed, they penetrate the
minutest chinks and crevices, besprinkling food and
clothes. Even the dust produced when the coal
bunkers are being replenished is less disagreeable than
the sand of the African desert. Patience is a virtue
greatly needed in the Suez Canal. When some clumsy
cargo ship, whose rudder has no more effect upon her
than a bit has upon a hard-mouthed cart-horse, runs
her nose into the bank and lies for a week athwart
the channel, while the thermometer is approaching the
century and the air is thick with dust, the most placid
temper is apt to become irritable, and a little display
of ill-humour is very excusable. At night the effect of
the electric light is very striking. The lamp is hung
over the bows, and a luminous wedge issuing from utter
darkness is projected forward upon the surface of the
water, creeping slowly along the shore and converting
the sand slopes into drifts of snow. All is silent, and
the measured throb of the engines can scarcely be
felt as the vessel moves cautiously onward. It seems
rather that the banks are by some magic agency
stealing past her at her anchor, and the midnight sky
lov/ering above the whitened hillocks enhances the
weirdness of the scene.
Half-way between Suez and Port Said another
lagoon is threaded on to the Canal, forming a natural
dock in the heart of the desert. Lake Timsah is a
tranquil sheet of water, and the row from the anchorage
to the wharf at Ismailia fills up half an hour pleasantly-
The Land of the Delta. 363
After dark the electric rays from the various ships
passing to and fro are seen for many a mile on either
side hke swords of fire brandished over the land.
Ismailia is a modern town. It was planned and built
by the French, a nation eminently qualified to do so
with good effect ; and they tried their best to make
it a success. It was intended to be an agreeable place
of resort — a kind of Vichy or Harrogate — for which
its position on the shore of Lake Timsah, near the
junction of the Sweetwater with the Suez Canal, par-
ticularly adapted it. It is well laid out in streets
radiating from a central garden, and avenues of trees
have been planted in the sandy soil ; and it might have
had a future as a holiday annexe to Cairo and Alex-
andria if the drainage and the water supply had not
been unaccountably mixed. An epidemic of fever
checked its development, and now Ismailia is a dull,
neglected European settlement in the midst of an
African desert. It is hot and dusty by day, and by
night the chorus of frogs on the margin of the lake
is not less effectual in murdering sleep than the phantom
dagger of Lady Macbeth.
Five hours must be spent on the journey by railway
from Ismailia to Cairo, but the trains, though slow, are
not uncomfortable. For many miles the line passes
through the desert, in which almost the only objects
to be observed are a few graves of those who fell in
the earlier days of the Egyptian campaign. Tel-el-Kebir
is reached in an hour and a half The wind has rasped
away much of the ramparts, and has filled the ditches
with sand, but the general plan of the defence can be
clearly traced. The redoubts are in better condition
and the embrasures arc not dcstro}-ed. Close to the
station, which lies about a mile beyond the battle-field,
are the neat little cemetery and the bridge o\er the
364 The M0DER2W Odyssey.
canal on which the despatches announcing the victory
were written.
The change from the desert into the cultivated land
is as sudden as a transformation scene. Only a few
inches separate the barren waste from the fertile fields.
On one side of a hedge the useless sand is littered, on
the other the eye is gladdened with a mass of verdure.
A long stretch of rich country, heavily cropped and
intersected by the innumerable runnels which distribute
the precious water of the Nile, reaches from Tel-el-Kebir
to Cairo. Not a drop of water, not a foot of land is
wasted, and the husbandry shows the greatest care and
industry. Men, women, children, oxen, and donkeys are
everywhere tending the fields. Camels laden with the
produce plod along the paths, and each field has its
primitive water-wheel of earthenware buckets worked
by a bullock. Only the white ibises, of all the animal
life, seem to have won their liberty. Groves of palms
encircle the villages, and long rows of trees border the
canal by means of which Ismail was enabled to thrust
back the boundaries of the desert. Here and there a
icw sand-hills remain to show what the land had been
before it was reclaimed from the waste, and that the
fertility of the more level country is due entirely to
irrigation. Now the snowy ibis hovers over the green
meadows where but a few years ago the sand was
thickly laid. Zagazig is an important junction of the
Egyptian railways between Tel-el-Kcbir and Cairo.
It is a large, rambling town, which has had the appear-
ance of antiquity and decay given to it by mud walls
and flat-roofed houses. A Canadian wind-mill near the
railway station seems such an anachronism that the
evidence of the eyes is at first hardly credible — it is
an illusion of the eye, a spectral image produced by
recollections of other lands ; but when an ICg) ptian
The Land of the Delta. 365
gentleman enters the carriage and points proudly to it
as his property, no room for doubt in its reality remains.
No city conveys such a diversity of opinions as
Cairo. Every person is disposed to give his attention
to that which is most unfamiliar, and according to the
feelings and the prejudices with which it is approached,
Cairo may seem to be anything that cities can be. An
Englishman notices the number of names belonging to
the Latin nations over the shops, and the foreign ap-
pearance of the streets, and compares the European
quarter of Cairo to a city in southern France or Italy.
A Frenchman, on the other hand, only sees the soldiers
of the English garrison, and exclaims with chagrin that
Cairo has become an appendage of Albion. The en-
riched and uncultured Australian passes a few days of
bewilderment m Cairo, for which an hour or two in
Colombo have not prepared him. The dollarous
American rushes around without committing his judg-
ment, tacitly acknowledging that a mind trained in
Pittsburg or Minneapolis has at first no retina fit to
receive the impressions made by Egypt. To a newly
arrived European Cairo is the East unalloyed, to an
Asiatic much of it is hardly distinguishable from
Europe. If a native Egyptian ever expresses his
opinion, it is doubtless a conviction that though it
might be hard to declare which nation is predominant
in Cairo it is certain that the city no longer belongs
to the Egyptians. The French, Italians, and Greeks
have taken possession of the trade of the country ;
while the English collect and distribute its taxes,
quarter their troops upon it, officer its army, and retreat
before its enemies in the Soudan on its behalf
Many cities have a mode of locomotion peculiar to
themselves, independently of the methods in use all over
the civilised world. London and the majority of English
366 The Modern Odyssey.
towns have their Hansoms ; Venice has its gondola ;
Sydney its Juggernaut; Shanghai its jinricksha; Can-
ton its sedan chair. Cairo has its donkeys, which are
the finest specimens of that class of quadruped to be
found anywhere. If their appearance is a trustworthy
test, they are here allowed to take their natural posi-
tion as intelligent animals, and are not held in contempt
as mere drudges. A Cairo donkey is well groomed, his
coat is often trimmed to an ornamental pattern, and his
trappings are splendid. His arched neck gives him a
really sporting look. The downcast eye and meek de-
meanour of the bullied moke of Great Britain give place
to something of fire and spirit in the deportment of his
Egyptian cousin. But it is not all beer and skittles with
the latter. As black care sits behind the horseman, so
does the donkey-boy with a stick pursue the ass. The
whack, whack upon his flanks reminds him that though
it may be very jolly to be called General Wolseley or Sir
Evelyn Baring and to be gaily caparisoned, yet twelve
stone of Englishman and the attentions of a boy who is
a firm believer in corporal punishment are rather a heavy
price to pay for such honours. It will probably take
many centuries to convince the young Arabs that a don-
key is not a machine in which a force applied at one part
by an external agency is usefully developed elsewhere,
and that the impact of the stick is not the motive power
which propels the muscles of the quadruped. However,
the donkeys of Cairo do not appear to lead very hard
lives. It is rare to see one bearing the marks of deliber-
ate cruelty, and their condition shows that they are not
stinted in their food. Two or three days may be agree-
ably spent in exploring Cairo on a donkey. The people
know well the sight of a cavalcade, or rather an asini-
cade, of travellers rushing hilaritcr cclcritcr through the
streets, and the bystanders are used to getting out of the
The Land of the Delta. 367
way, for the donkey never gets out of their way. He is
steered like a ship, at the stern, by the donkey-boy, and
the bit has Httlc effect on his course : and what with
stirrups six inches long, a flat saddle, and a huge pommel
in front, the rider's attention is fully occupied.
The European quarter of Cairo is the Cave of
Adullam to which the higher vagabondism of the
Mediterranean has resorted. It has the air of mode-
rate prosperity. French shops are the most numerous,
and after them Italian. Hardly an English name
is to be seen, and the jealousy of France at the
British occupation is excusable if not reasonable.
The houses, both official and commercial, are built
in the French style, and the Esbckich Gardens,
where an Egyptian band plays daily, reproduce exactly
the public place of a town in Provence or Languedoc. The
frou-frou of Paris frocks is heard, and overdressed
children strut about in stays, dress-improvers, and high-
heeled boots. The native quarter is not very interesting
to a traveller lately arrived from Indian cities, and the
shops are filled with wares far inferior to those seen in
the bazaars of Delhi or Lucknow. In the Cairo bazaar
the upper stories of the houses project and form an
arcade. The dealers sit in the midst of their goods, and
offer weapons new and old — the English homicidal in-
stinct having created a prosperous trade in instruments of
warfare — silver-work, embroideries, carpets, and a thou-
sand other things, indiscriminately huddled together on
the bench. The place is crowded with men and women
from every land : Turks and Arabians in flowing robes
and bright red fezzes mingle with negroes in snowy
attire : the sparkling e)-es of the Egyptian women veiled
from head to foot glance wonderingly but hardl}- admir-
ingly upon the noisy British tourist. A rude picture
of a steamer or a locomotive above the lintel of a house
^6S The Modern Odyssey.
indicates the abode of a Mahomedan who, having made the
pilgrimage to Mecca, is entitled to wear a green turban
and to be styled Hadji, and who proclaims in this quaint
manner his pious deed to the world. That the emblem
of a locomotive should have become the sign of a Maho-
medan's observance of the duties of his religion is a
wonderful example of the endosmose motion of Western
ideas.
Tombs and Mosques are plentiful in Cairo. The
Mosque of Sultan Hassan — a grand edifice — is so dirty
and dusty and out of repair that its proportions cannot
be perfectly appreciated. The walls are high and
massive, and the minarets are said to be the loftiest in
the world. As an example of the intermediate style of
Saracenic architecture it is worthy of notice, and if all
the details were in keeping with the general design it
might be one of the handsomest buildings in Egypt.
When the bright sun lights up the towering walls and
falls upon the ruined canopy of the well in the courtyard,
and the deep transepts and the Hall of Prayer with their
coarse pendentive ornaments and mean lamps suspended
from the roof are in the shade, the picture Is very
attractive. Some say that the eyes of the architect were
put out, others that his right hand was cut off when the
work was completed — a reward frequently given in the
East to the designer of a magnificent edifice, in order to
prevent him transferring his services to another em-
ployer and surpassing his former work, while at the
same time his rivals were discouraged.
The Citadel is placed upon a plateau on the eastern
side of the City. It is defended by thick walls and semi-
circular bastions, and if it were not commanded by the
Mokattam hills at the back Arabi would probably have
made an attempt to hold it instead of surrendering to a
handful of British and Indian cavalry. The feature of
The Land of the Delta. 369
the Citadel is the Alabaster Mosque built by Mehemet
Ali. The sun has stolen the colour from the outside ;
but inside the effect of the yellow and white stone is
very rich, though somewhat spoiled by the innumerable
chandeliers. Close to the Mosque is the corner of the
fortress from which the Mameluke leaped, but the
height of the walls throws doubt upon the tradition that
he escaped with his life.
A narrow terrace overlooking the precipice gives a
magnificent view of Cairo and the desert. The Mosque
of Sultan Hassan stands boldly in the foreground, with
the picturesque city retreating behind it towards the
river. Domes rise out of the nearer part, and the roofs
of the palaces and official buildings beyond show the
position of the hluropean quarter. On the ridges of the
low hills towards the south are the ruined wind-mills
built by the French during their occupation of Egypt at
the beginning of the century — skeletons emblematic of
the present influence of France in the East. The sun-
dried houses of old Cairo are seen crouching by the
banks of the Nile, and the undulating outline of the
desert is broken in one place by the Pyramids of Ghizeh,
which when the sun is almost touching the horizon send
long shadows across the land reaching to the walls of the
Citadel ; and in another by the more ancient but less
shapely Pyramids of Sakhara. The great river passes
through the midst, reflecting the light of the sky from its
luminous course and bordered by green alluvial fields
and avenues of trees : and in the rear the stony Mokat-
tam hills shut out the waste separating Cairo from Suez,
a desert so barren and bereft of water that the railway
which once traversed it has been abandoned. The
panorama from the Citadel is one of the most impressive
of those scenes of which the chief features consist in
edifices built by man. Almost ever}- period in several
Y
370 The Modern Odyssey.
thousand years is represented. In the distance a tomb
which has been standing for forty centuries, and is the
most ancient building in the world, may be discerned ;
while under the walls is the railway station of yesterday.
In Egypt history is crystallised. Its continuity has not
been preserved ; only a few events are handed down to
us, as it were, in sculpture. A pyramid, a temple, the
dry bed of a canal, a fragment of hieroglyphic here and
there, gives an occasional glimpse of the course of time,
but the intervening years are wrapped in impenetrable
mystery.
In the north of the city are two sights usually visited
at the same time : the obelisk at Heliopolis, said to be
the oldest monument in existence, and an ostrich farm.
The former is noteworthy on account of its antiquity,
but little more can be said of it ; still it is probable that
no mind except the modern tourist's would find satis-
faction in hurrying away impatiently to visit an establish-
ment founded in order to gratify the vanity of the women
of the nineteenth century. The birds are kept in pens
and paddocks, and lead a life as artificial as that of
the women for whose benefit they exist. The eggs
are hatched in incubators, and a harvest of feathers is
reaped off the adult birds at the proper season. A
naked ostrich lately cropped and stalking up and down
his prison would be a most ridiculous object if his
condition did not excite compassion. If every English
lady who is accustomed to wear ostrich feathers upon
ceremonious occasions or to cool her cheeks with ostrich
fans could see the miserable plight of an ostrich when
stripped of his plumage the cruel fashion would soon fall
into disuse. Those who have not had the opportunity
of visiting an ostrich farm can form a good idea of it by
going to a poulterer's shop and picturing to themselves
the sight of the plucked chickens increased to a colossal
The Land of the Delta. 371
size, restored to life, and languidly promenading in wire
cages.
The appearance of the Nile at Cairo does not convey
the idea that it is one of the most important rivers in the
world. It rises south of the Equator, and in traversing
thirty degrees of latitude it flows for more than three
thousand miles. Without it Egypt would be a wilder-
ness ; )'et at the capital it seems to be hardly wider than
the Thames at London Bridge, owing to the amount of
water lost by evaporation and absorption in the desert,
while no affluents replenish it. The volume of water
transmitted at Berber is greater than that flowing under
the Bridge at Cairo many hundred miles below. The
Egx'ptian husbandman, who is dependent upon the
overflow of the equatorial lakes and the rainfall on the
Abyssinian mountains for the irrigation of his fields,
watches its height with far greater anxiety than the
English farmer who consults the barometer in hay-time
and harv^est. A low Nile means famine in Egypt ; an
insufficient Nile means destitution to the fvllaheoi ; a too
full Nile causes loss by inundation. An ancient river-
gauge now called the Nilometer has been used for man\-
centuries to record the river level at Cairo. It is a
graduated post in a large well connected with the Nile
by a submerged passage. Formerly the amount of taxes
leviable was assessed proportionately to the volume of
water in the river, and the advantage of having the
gauge placed in an enclosed tank was evident. A
dwindled treasury could easily be filled b}- the simple
expedient of cutting off the communication with the
river ; which is as though the income tax in England
were regulated by the height of a thermometer kept in
the kitchen of the Chancellor of the Exchequer's official
residence in Downing Street. It is not difficult to
imagine the sardonic grin which must have o\-erspread
\ 2
372 The Modern Odyssey.
the countenance of an Egyptian Minister of Finance of
the time of the Pharaohs as he obstructed the passage.
The financial troubles of Egypt began very early in her
history. What with the ancient deceitful Nilometer and
the modern bond-holder, and very many intervening
spoilers of the Egyptians, the tax-gatherer has always
been busy in the Delta.
The architectural mounds called Pyramids are spread
either singly or in groups over a narrow tract on the
brink of the desert along the left bank of the Nile.
Many treatises have been written upon them, and hardly
a year passes without some new theory of their origin
and purpose being suggested. Some persons regard
them as astronomical instruments or observatories,
others as mausoleums or even as granaries. The
mystery is never likely to be solved satisfactorily, nor
can the mechanical agencies by which the huge piles
were set up be explained. One of them originally
covered an area of twelve acres, rose to a height of
nearly five hundred feet, and weighed seven million
tons. Like Stonehenge in England, the Pyramids have
survived not only history but also tradition. Ev^cn at
the present day the erection of a Pyramid would be no
easy task. To hew the stone, to transport it from a
distant quarry, to shape, manipulate, and place in
position the massive blocks at a height of several
hundred feet, would require all the modern appliances
of engineering, and without them the execution of such
a work seems hardly practicable. A few obscure refer-
ences to the machinery in ancient authors only serve to
make the methods more hard to understand. All that
can be said with certainty is that at a very remote period
there was a race of men in PLgypt who built not one but
many colossal edifices, which for size, excellence of
workmanship, accuracy of design, and skill shown in
The Land of the Delta. 373
overcoming natural and mechanical difficulties, can only
be compared with the finest structures of the present
century. The cutting of the Suez Canal was an easy
task in comparison with the erection of the Great
Pyramid.
The Pyramids of Ghizeh, the finest thouph not the
most ancient in Egypt, stand a few miles west of Cairo,
just outside the belt of cultivated land. An hour's drive
along a good road shaded by an avenue is terminated at
the foot of the higher ground on which they are built.
The three larger Pyramids are placed in echelon towards
the south-west, and the sides therefore face the cardinal
points of the compass. When approached from the east
the Great Pyramid appears to loom into the sky with
swelling dimensions, which, owing to the elevation of the
platform at the base not at first attracting the notice of
the eye, seem to increase more rapidly than the decrease
in the distance can account for. From the end of tlic
avenue the vast pointed fabric is seen reared prominently
in the foreoround like a sentinel posted on the rampart
of the desert, and the spectator is face to face with one
of the seven wonders of the world. The purple brown
of the stone is the very tint that should be found with a
clear, cloudless sky, and a sun shining on the white sands :
for had the material been of a nature to reflect the light,
it might have produced an effect more dazzling, perhaps,
but far less impressive than that calm, dark, yet not
gloomy mass.
The Great Pyramid served as a quarr\- when the
city of Cairo was built, and the outer casing was long
ago ruthlessly stripped off, leaving the sides in rugged
courses of masonry forming steps to the summit. The
blocks lying at the angles and near the ground-line were
taken away without compunction : and though the shape
and general proportions of the structure ha\c not been
374 The Modern Odyssey.
materially injured, the spoliation of the corners and the
disappearance of the stones forming the apex have made
it impossible to measure the exact dimensions. The
inclination of the sides is a little more than half a right
angle, but their height is so great and their solidity so
impressive that when viewed from beneath they appear
to rise almost perpendicularly out of the ground.
At the present time it is almost impossible to see the
Pyramids as they should be seen, in perfect solitude.
A Restaurant and an Hotel have obtruded themselves
within a stone's throw, and a tribe of Arab backshish
hunters has established itself on the spot in the guise
of guides. Except to explore the interior a guide is
unnecessary. A traveller who cannot see the Pyramids
without one had better stay at home, though some
assistance is advisable for those who wish to climb to
the summit — an adventure which would otherwise be
extremely fatiguing if not dangerous. The pleasurable
awe which the stupendous edifice inspires is more
than half destroyed by the gang of pestilent loafers
who, in spite of remonstrance, dog the footsteps of
every pilgrim and disturb his thoughts by commonplace
remarks in bad English. If he sits down upon a block
and gazes at the magnificent structure in dumb admira-
tion, in a moment an Arab will be at his side with
a handful of spurious antiquities, or a remark upon
the relative merits of the two guide-books most in use.
The Arab cannot understand mute and solitary contem-
plation of a notable object, and regards the traveller who
indulges in it as a doubtful and irresponsible character,
whom it will be neither expedient nor in accordance
with the laws of hospitality to leave by himself There
is no saying that he might not attempt to carry off the
Pyramid, if not carefully watched ; and the loss of
the Pyramid means the stanching of the flow of back-
The Land of the Delta. 375
sliisJi. The Arab is not a sufficiently acute observer
to notice when his services are unnecessary ; and no
doubt, like a London detective, he thinks it his duty
to follow any person whose behaviour excites suspicion.
It is not too much to say that the so-called guides make
the Pyramids almost intolerable to a meditative traveller
who desires to muse and reflect in the presence of the
incomparable relics of a grand age.
Yet, after all, the Arabs are not wholl)- to blame.
Many Englishmen, especially those who travel with
tourist parties, visit the Pyramids because it is the
correct thing to do, and these would be altogether
lost without the natives. They meekly allow themselves
to be led round to the various standpoints in due course,
and are grateful for the attention. For such as these
the Pyramids are but huge masses of masonry strikingly
placed upon a picnic ground. The Pyramid Gymnastics
were founded by them and their kind. A few tourists
once were of opinion that the associations of Ghizch
were deficient in interest. There was nothing exciting
about a mere P\Tamid ; the sporting element, the jolly
lark, were wanting : some new attraction was necessary.
The circumstances of the case seemed to militate against
its discovery ; until at last a bright idea occurred to
an individual who would have been far happier on
a racecourse or running-path at home. An Arab was
hired to make the best of his way from the top of the
Great P)Tamid to the summit of the second p}-ramid,
with assurance of additional backshish should he perform
the task under a certain time. Now, whenever a party
of P^nglishmen visit the I'yr.imids, a dozen or more
Arabs offer themselves for the job, and usuall\- profit
handsomely by it : as they protest that it cannot be
accomplished in less than ten minutes, and b\- stipula-
ting for a premium for e\cry quarter of a minute saved
■}3']6 The Modern Odyssey.
they often earn ten or twelve piastres. It is really-
wonderful to see the agility with which they leap down
from block to block in descending the Great Pyramid,
rush wildly across the interval, and scramble up the side
of the second Pyramid within the space of seven minutes.
But the spectacle of the Pyramids converted into a
go-as-you-please track for the benefit of the British
tourist is enough to make the very mummies gnash
their teeth in anger.
The Sphinx stands in a hollow some hundred yards
to the south of the Great Pyramid. The sand has been
cleared away not only from the figure, but also from the
old wall which was built as a screen and in its turn over-
whelmed, and from the temple hard by in which the ser-
vices in the Sphinx's honour were held. The temple is
constructed of red granite blocks, some of them sixteen
feet in length, and so truly squared that the blade of a
penknife cannot be inserted between them. The design
is plain, but the fabric is extremely massive. The kingly
power which could cause such buildings to be erected
must have been very real, and they were no doubt built
by forced labour — a form of slavery that was not extinct
in Egypt until the Suez Canal was half finished.
The face of the Sphinx still wears a very benign and
kindly expression, though it is too much battered to
afford a complete idea of its original appearance. In
its present condition it is not exactly beautiful, but it
fascinates to a remarkable degree. The calm, enduring
lips, which have smiled upon the joys and troubles of
countless generations, now seem as it were to have
moulded themselves into a look of good-natured con-
tempt for the conceits of the creatures of an hour,
who lightly come to gambol under the shadow of forty
centuries. The Sphinx is a link in every age between
the present and the past. The weeds and the flowers of
The Land of the Delta. 2>77
the day spring and die around it : Egyptian kings,
Roman legions, and French soldiers have lifted their
eyes to it, and it will remain unchanged until the end,
with its couchant figure crouching a little apart from
civilisation, on the confines of the desert, like a lion
escaped from the Libyan waste and gazing in magni-
ficent repose at the cradle of History.
An excellent express train runs twice a day in each
direction between Cairo and Alexandria through a rich
country watered by the Nile and the artificial channels
which derive their supplies from it. Alexandria was
founded by Alexander the Great, but few traces of its
antiquity remain. The streets are partly Oriental and
partly French, a mixture of Moradabad and Marseilles.
With the exception of Pompey's Pillar, which now
stands in the midst of a Mahomedan cemetery, the
structures of the Greek and Roman period have been
almost entirely effaced. At the present time the chief
interest in Alexandria is the bombardment of 1882 ;
and the lesson which that catastrophe enforces is that a
half-hearted garrison of rebels, with less than two score
rifled guns capable of being effectively used against
ironclads, can withstand for the best part of a day the
attack of 36,000 tons of armoured vessels unharasscd
by mines or torpedo boats and carrying sevcnt}--six
armour-piercing guns served by British seamen.
CHAPTER XXVI.
ATHENS AND THE LEVANT.
A POLYGLOT assemblage of passengers was gathered on
the deck of the Khedivial mail-steamer Charkieh as she
left the harbour of Alexandria before the noon of a
sunny April day, Armenians, Englishmen, Frenchmen,
Germans, Greeks, Italians, and Turks were elbowing
each other on a limited area which had lately been still
more densely thronged by crowds of leave-takers.
Owing, no doubt, to the circumstance that a journey is a
rarer and therefore a more important event in the life of
a Latin or Levantine than in an Anglo-Saxon's, the
former collects round him all his relations and friends
to witness his departure ; and these chatter with increas-
ing volubility as the supreme moment approaches. On
such occasions an Englishman, who is said to be, like his
home, an island, prefers to be left alone. Rational con-
versation cannot be maintained at the door of a railway
carriage when the engine whistle is about to sound, or on
the deck of a ship when the bell for the shore has rung,
Xot so the traveller of Latin or Greek origin. lie stands
in the middle of his company with great satisfaction, and
when the last moment has arrived he embraces them
once more ere they tumble headlong into the boats toss-
ing at the foot of the ladder. The boatmen gesticulate
and shout, and by some marvellous good fortune no one
is drowned. The waving" of hands and the final farewell
Athens axd the Levant. 379
cries continue long after the ship is under weigh. The
deck passengers begin to dispose their rugs, pillows, and
mattresses under the bulwarks and near the engine-room
skylight, and unpack their baskets of provisions and pro-
duce their bottles of wine — and their fleas take the
opportunity of going the rounds.
The Egyptian element on board the Charkich was
apparently restricted to the Egyptian ensign floating
over her counter : for she was built on the Clyde, officered
by various nationalities, and manned by a crew of mis-
cellaneous Levantines. Her skipper mounted as much
gold lace on his cufls as any English post-captain, and
the crew even of an American man-of-war would have
contained a larger proportion of men owing allegiance to
the flag under which they sailed. The meals were
arranged in pairs. A lever-du-ridcaii of tea, coffee, and
bread and butter, styled a collation in the printed regu-
lations, was quickly followed by a tolerable breakfast ;
and when after a long interval a plentiful dinner had
been served late in the afternoon, a second collation of
light materials quickly appeared in the saloon.
The troop of pilgrims whose tales beguiled the tedium
of the road between the " Tabard " at Southwark and
the shrine of St. Thomas-a-Becket at Canterbury was
not made up of more dissimilar components than the
passenger roll of the CJiarkich. At the head of a long
list of obscure items such as bagmen and tourists stood
a Greek Patriarch, a pair of German Professors, a
prominent American politician, and a beautiful English
lady. Of this quintet the Greek prelate was the least
remarkable. His kindly face and comfortable person
were pleasing objects on deck or in the saloon, but his
ignorance of Western languages prevented closer inter-
course. The American politician had been a Member of
Congress and also i\Ia}-or of one of the most important
380 The Modern Odyssey.
cities of the central States. He was clever, egotistical,
argumentative, and well-informed. A sincere admiration
of Great Britain, whom he acknowledged to be even
more than America the guardian and pioneer of liberty
in the world, was checked in its natural development by
the exigencies of American politics. Instead of being a
leader of the people. Democracy was trailing him behind
it. He was a mouth-piece rather than a guide ; it never
seemed to occur to him that voters stand more in need
of counsellors than of spokesmen ; and like all his class
he thought it an honour to be dragged in the triumphal
car of Demos. That a public man should ever be justi-
fied in raising his voice against a popular cry was in his
opinion a treasonable notion ; for the mediaeval theory
of the divine right of kings had given place to the modern
doctrine of the divine right of the democracy.
Between an American politician and a German
scientist there is a gulf almost as wide as any that can
exist between two human beings. The former floats
upon the surface of the stream and is carried hither and
thither by eddies, whirlpools, and currents like a boat
without a helm or oar: the latter lives apart among the
mysteries of nature and the problems of antiquity
like a bathybius in calm dark depths that are never
disturbed by the fickle breezes playing upon the sur-
face. Yet one at least of the German professors
on board the Charkieh had achieved a reputation
which will be remembered when the whole catalogue of
American politicians shall have been forgotten : and
probably one of the most difficult tasks likely to be
set before the German historian and archaeologist of the
distant future will be to disinter the statemongers of
America from the obscurity which so quickly overwhelms
them.
A barque la<Icn only with politics and professors
Athens and the Levant. 381
would have sailed joylessly even under the bright skies
which are reflected by the limpid waters of the Mediter-
ranean ; but the Charkieh was chosen to restore to
Europe one of the most charming and beautiful English-
women whom the West had ever lent to the East.
It would not be seemly to mention her well-known
name, to whose honourable reputation in the world of
public life she has added the lustre of her own excel-
lence ; but if that might be done there would be many
to wish that they had been wayfarers on the track of
light which she threaded through the maze of the bright
islands of the /Egean.
The voyage from Alexandria to the Piraeus lasts two
days in fine weather. The light reflected from the white
sands of the shallow Egyptian coast imparts a pale milky
hue to the water near the shore, but as the fathoms in-
crease the waves grow darker. Alexandria soon sinks
below the horizon, and at a very short distance from land
all sign of the city disappears and the ship is left alone
upon the tidelcss waters of the Mediterranean. During
the greater part of the next day the hills of Candia, the
turbulent island celebrated in proverbs for the ignoble
qualities of the inhabitants, remain in sight, and the
steamer, after passing the eastern promontory, enters the
region of the isles which form stepping-stones from Europe
to Asia. On all sides the shadow}- forms rise out of the
purple .Egean, until at length the continuous outline of
the mainland of Hellas comes into view. The land
closes in u[)on the vessel as she enters the Gulf of
Athens, fenced round by hills ; soon the Attic plain is
seen reaching down to the shore of the Bay of Phalerinn ;
the Acropolis, familiar in appearance to man\- e\-es that
have never seen it, rises bold!}- in the midst, and there is
Hymcttus looking down upon it. Natural beaut}' is
382 The Modern Odyssey.
interwoven with the grandest historical associations in
this favoured spot ; the air is as clear and the water as
blue as they were two thousand years ago ; and modern
civilisation has hitherto done little to impair the
features of the landscape. The scene outspread before
the passengers who flocked to the starboard rail of the
CJuirkieh as she crossed Phalerum Bay is the same as
that on which the mariners of the Greek fleet gazed ere
they set sail from the same haven for Troy. Commerce
has not yet settled with her dingy streets and blackened
walls upon the shore of Attica. No clouds of smoke
issuing from the minarets of industry besmirch the sky,
and the sunlight is supreme : there is no hurry of trade
upon the strand, for in Greece Time has not yet been
transmuted into Money.
A hilly promontory, formerly an island which the
sands of the Cephissus joined in course of time to the
plain of Attica, lies on the western side of Phalerum ]3ay.
Three harbours indent the coast-line, but of these only
the Piraeus, a haven formed by the projecting headland
of Eetionia, is sufficiently spacious to admit modern
shipping. The smaller basins of Zea and Munychia are
enclosed by ancient moles and filled with the clearest
water. The docks and slips built for the service of the
galleys of old and the stone bollards to which they
made fast are still visible ; but the harbours are disused
except as bathing pools, and they retain all the charm
which crystal waves stolen from the sea and hemmed in
by a rocky shore can give to a little haven.
In the middle ages the Piraeus lost not only its early
importance, but even its name. During many centuries
it was termed the Porto Leone, from a sculptured lion
which once stood upon the shore but which now adorns
the Arsenal at Venice. A Scandinavian inscription on
the body long puzzled the archaeologists, but it was at
Athens and the Levant. 383
length deciphered and found to be a record of the
Levantine exploits of the Norseman, Harold Hardrada,
who entered the service of the Byzantine Emperor, and
who, after an adventurous life in the East, unsuccessfully
invaded the dominions of an English King, from whom
he received the allotment of territory which the latter
had scornfully promised him — namely, seven feet of
English soil to bury him in : for he was taller than
other men. He made himself master of Northumbria,
but he was defeated by his namesake, Harold the Second
of I'Lngland, at Stamford Bridge ; and thus a country
village in Yorkshire became the last home of a soldier
of fortune who had fought in the land of Themistocles.
In a very {aw weeks, however, his death was avenged at
the battle of Hastings by William the Conqueror, another
invader of Scandinavian descent.
History, as usual, repeats itself ; Scandinavia is
again concerned in Greece, so long as a branch of a
Danish dynasty occupies the Hellenic throne. The
Norsemen have at all times been a link between the
West and the East, and every generation produces fresh
evidence of their exploits. In December, 1890, a hoard
of coins minted by the Mahomedan Caliphs of Samarcand
and Bagdad was discovered in the Isle of Sk}'e, where
they had no doubt been deposited for safety by some
Norse Viking.
When the lion was taken away by Morosini to a
lagoon on the Adriatic, the term Porto Leone lost its
significance, and the port resumed its ancient name of
the Piraeus. It is a good harbour sheltered on all sides,
but the entrance is somewhat narrow. It is no longer
possible to sail into it, as a classic haven should be
approached, on the poop of a trireme, but it is not
necessary to do further violence to the associations of
the place by entering Athens from the portico of the
384 The Modern Odyssey.
railway station. The road is good, and the time occupied
but shghtly longer than by the railway when the delays
incurred in waiting for the train and manipulating luggage
are taken into account. If a halo of dust travels with
the carriage, it is some consolation to know that dust is
indestructible, and that perhaps the very same particles
besprinkled Socrates or Aristophanes, An avenue of
silvery-leaved poplars lines the highway, and on either
hand are vineyards and olive gardens, and fields gay in
spring with poppies and yellow daisies. The approach
to Modern Athens from the Piraeus is not striking. The
road enters a poor suburb, and almost immediately joins
the ill-paved Street of Hermes, which, however, improves
somewhat before it enters the Place of the Constitution,
the centre of the residential portion of the city. Here
Modern Athens appears to be a clean and cheerful
metropolis, but no more. The public buildings are
either unpretentious edifices or commonplace imitations
of the Classical style ; and it is evident that the genius
of Architecture has long forsaken the plain of Attica.
The Royal Palace might easily be mistaken for a Hos-
pital or for Barracks ; but the lack of beauty in the
elevation is partly redeemed by the lovely gardens which
surround it, and which, by the kindness of the King,
are often thrown open to the public. It is an enchanting
spot, where roses and all other flowers grow luxuriantly ;
where the pleasant shadow of trees, so grateful in a land
of sunshine, falls upon winding paths and running
water; and where the song of birds is heard. When
the Attic dust is enveloping the plain and the city is
glowing with heat, the Palace Garden offers a delightful
retreat to a parched traveller.
A few quaint little churches, picturesque but devoid
of artistic merit, are found here and there in the streets.
Some of them are scarcely larger than cottages, and they
Athens and the Levant. 385
are almost the sole relics of the period when Athens
was subject to the Byzantine Empire. Of the other
epochs there is scarcely a trace. The eclipse of Athens
lasted nearly eif^htcen hundred years. The Franks,
Florentines, and Venetians who in their turn conquered
the country left no mark save that of destruction upon
it. At one time Athens had dwindled to the dimensions
of a village. It lay under a spell from which it was at
lenf:;th aroused by the cruelty of Turkish despotism.
When all T^urope believed that Greece was dead, flesh
began to grow upon the dry bones : and at the present
time there is at least a possibility that the Greek Empire
may be restored, with Constantinople, however, rather
than Athens as its metropolis, and with a territory
stretching from the Black Sea to the Adriatic and Cape
Matapan — a fitting sequel to the so-called " untoward
event " which brought a struggle of sixty years to a close
and compelled the Powers to declare Greece independent
of Turkey.
When the choice of a capital for the new nation was
in question the ancient reputation of Athens rather than
its existing qualifications for the post caused it to be
selected. As in many other countries, circumstances
apart from political, utilitarian, or geographical advan-
tages determined the site of the seat of Government ;
but Greece alone of all the nations, with the exception,
perhaps, of Ital}', allowed antiquarian sentiment to
prevail. Athens is an unsuitable metropolis in many
respects. The juxtaposition of a modern city built in
haste and the superb ruins of former grandeur is un-
fortunate. The ftM-iTier suffers from the contrast, and is
liable to be unduly dispara^^ed. If the plain of Attica,
which once permeated the world with Art and Philo-
sophy, had been reverently set apart as a vast Museum
or State Reserve, Greece might have revered it more and
z
386 The Modern Odyssey.
might have been influenced by it in a greater degree.
Famiharity has bred a sort of contempt. Many even of
the educated chisses in Athens confess that the AcropoHs
has no interest for them. Few of them ever visit it, and
the work of exploration is left almost entirely to the
loreign archaeological schools.
Greek merchants and men of business are natural-
ised and prosperous citizens in many of the Western
commercial centres, and are content to leave the
Government of their country in the hands of a class
of politicians who, with one or two exceptions, look
upon Athens as a temporary refuge pending the dis-
solution of the Turkish Empire and the re-establishment
of Constantinople as the capital of a new Greek Empire.
Athens is a City of Great Expectations, which may or
may not be realised, but which certainly retard its
development by diverting men's thoughts to vague ex-
ternal schemes of Empire. If the Greeks had studied
rightly the lesson of the History of Greece, they would
not watch the course of events so impatiently and im-
potently, but would rather strive to show themselves
worthy of their past and capable of taking a larger
share in the control of Eastern Europe. In the short
space of sixty years three revolutions have occurred ;
and recently Greece was only prevented by the brute
force of a blockade from igniting a conflagration in the
Balkan Peninsula. Greece is the stormy petrel of the
Eevant.
Such are some of the causes which make Modern
Athens a disappointing place. Travellers visit Greece
with the expectation of witnessing a revival of the old
Greek spirit, but they find her exploited by lawyers
and turbulent editors and in a condition of mild political
brigandage. The language of Demosthenes, Plato,
and Sophocles, rich, sonorous, delicate, nervous, and
Athexs axd the Levant. 387
expressive, has become a vapid, careless dialect ; and
literature is restricted to the journals of the da)'. The
swarthy faces of the men bear no trace of the noble
features of their reputed ancestors ; and a beautiful or
even a pretty woman is rarely seen. Comparatively
few native costumes are worn, and almost every other
passer-by is a soldier dressed in a slovenly uniform and
slouching in gait. A smart, well-set up man is rare even
among the officers. A private in a British regiment of
Yeomanry or Militia presents a far more martial ap-
pearance. The salute is given in an offliand manner,
more as a matter of courtesy than of military discipline.
It is, however, manifestly unfair to judge a young
nation too harshly ; and it should be remembered that
Greece has but lately been awakened from the sleep of
slaver)-. If her progress and her present condition dis-
appoint her friends and cause some misgivings to
those who would be glad to sec an augmented Greece
established on the Bosphorus as an obstacle to Russian
aggression, it is too soon to say that as a nation she has
failed. Antiquity has unfortunately set up a standard
to which she cannot attain. The Acropcjlis, or rather
those qualities which are represented by it, is her great
stumbling-block ; for it tends to prejudice men's minds
against her. If Ancient Greece had not taken such a
glorious part in History, Art, and Philosoph)', Moelcrn
Greece would be regarded with less critical e\cs. It is
certainly hard upon her that it should be so, but as
human nature is constituted it is not surprising.
The Acropolis rises like an altar out of the plain on
the southern edge of the city. It is a plateau elevated
above the lower grcnmd on cliffs made more precipitous
by the walls of Cimon and Themistocles, and is only
accessible in one place where a magnificent Hight of
steps leads to the summit. It is se\cral hundred feet
Z 2
388 The Modern Odyssey.
above the level of the sea, and the panoramic view it
affords is very iine. Immediately below is the bright
city with the cypresses appearing between the buildings,
and beyond is the cone of Lycabettus. The dark-green
patches in the plain are the olive groves, and the verdure
of lighter hue marks the place of the vineyards. The
long ridge of Hymettus, the home of the bees, clothed
in a translucent violet veil of most delicate tissue, over-
looks the city from the East and faces Skarmanga, the
western barrier of the Attic plain ; which on the north
is fenced in by Parnes and Pentelicon. A purple tint,
so fine that it does not blur the details, suffuses the
hillsides ; while brown and green predominate on the
lower ground. Towards the south are the blue sounds
and inlets of the Gulf of Athens, dotted over with
islands. yEgina and Salamis seem to be floating on
the luminous water, and the Peloponnesian hills in the
distance are covered with patches of snow, Phalerum
Bay indents the coast with a sweeping curve of azure
water, and as the sun goes down the little waves sparkle
in his light. The air is so clear that every gradation
of shadow and every tint of colour on the islands and the
mountains are faithfully transmitted through it. The
moonlight aspect of the Acropolis represents with
dramatic realism the vanished greatness of the land.
When the moon has risen above the crest of Hymettus
and begins to shed her serene light on the ruined columns
and temples, the dim vista of the past seems to reach
out spectrally from the present. The marble is con-
verted into snow glimmering in the midst of deep
shadows, and the weirdness of the scene is heightened
by the only sound that breaks into the stillness, the
cry of the wild cats who have made their home among
the shattered edifices. A perfect silence reigns in the
city below, and, but for a few lights in the plain spread
Athens and the Levant. 3 89
like stars in the sky, there would be no sij^n of life.
Modern Athens is slumbering in the arms of History.
The Acropolis is under the care of the Greek
Government, which deserves credit for excluding the
tribe of officious guides who in other places destroy
the pleasure of viewing an historical site. It is possible
to climb the steps of the Pro]>yI<'ea, to wander in and
out of the Parthenon and the l^rechtheum, and to loiter
in the midst of fragments of capitals and friezes from
morning till night without the fear of being accosted by
a valct-de-placc. Although a human guide is not ne-
cessary in .Athens, the silent, unobtrusive guide-book
which, like a well-behaved child, only speaks when it is
spoken to, is indispensable. The value of Murray
cannot be over-estimated, but it is a too formidable
depositor}' of learning for the ordinary traveller, and
its teeming pages savour too much of the lexicon
and classical dictionary. But in the charming Lcttrcs
AtJiaiicnncs of M. de Mouy, formerly of the h^rcnch
Legation at Athens and now Ambassador at Rome,
the great majority of travellers will find a sufficient
store of arch.'cology. The fault of superficiality which
lessens the value of many French treatises is absent,
yet the subject is discussed b)' a facile pen, wielded b}' a
light hand. The st)-le is familiar without being flippant.
The book is no dry account of places and objects, but
the refiections which they engender are interwoxen with
descrij)tions written in pellucid h'rench prose. It is the
work of a man of letters rather than of a professor, and
it is therefore more interesting to the general reader ;
and it does not contain a single Greek quotation.
It was natural that such a remarkable hill as the
Acropolis should have been as>igned to religion at a
very early date. There were short periods when it was
the seat of Government and the stroni^liold of the old
390 The Modern Odyssey.
Kings of Athens, but it was soon reserved for the
edifices of pubHc worship; and although it was occasion-
ally utilised as a fortress and has stood more than one
siege, it was never permanently devoted to any other
l)urpose until the present century, when it became an
outdoor nmseum of antiquities.
Whether the Portal at the foot of the stairway leading
up to the entrance gate is the work of Romans, Franks,
Florentines, or Turks is one of the many questions not yet
answered by the archaeologists. It is an opening in a
wall constructed of blocks collected at random, put to-
gether without much method, and flanked by two plain
towers, which give probability to the theory that the
architect was a military engineer. The whole structure
is very inferior in merit to the edifices on the summit,
and therefore it would be unjust to ascribe it to the
Greeks. It seems impossible that the Acropolis could
have been left without a convenient means of access
after it had been covered with masterpieces of archi-
tectural Art, and yet there is reason to believe that the
flight of steps leading from the Portal to the Propyla:a
was built at a later date, and that a series of small plat-
forms cut in the rock formed originally the only
approach. It would not have been prudent to make the
Acropolis, considered as a Citadel, too easy of access ;
and the robust and athletic Greeks who went up to it for
religious purposes would not be deterred by the difficulty
of climbing a hillside. There is no other example of a
stairway in similar edifices, and therefore the silence of
ancient Greek Avriters, to whom such a structure would
appear unique, proves that the existing flight, which is
in fair preservation, formed no part of the original
design.
The main Portal is usually closed, and the entrance
is through a passage in the adjacent Turkish bastion.
A Til EX S AXD THE L EVA XT. 39 1
The path runs for a short distance under the wall to a
side gate, then doubles back in a steep incline and
emerges half-way up the stairway ; where the white
columns of the Propyhta overhang the ascent, flanked
on the right hand by the teini)le of Wingless V^ic-
tory and on the other by a pedestal which once sup-
ported a bronze statue of Agrippa. The ruined temple
shows the vanity of the Athenians' pride and self-
confidence in erecting a shrine to the god who, they
fondly believed, would never withdraw his patronage
from the city and fly away : and the pedestal from which
the image of the Roman Emperor has long since dis-
appeared stands to rebuke the pretensions of Rome. Of
the three chief edifices on the Acropolis the PropyLxa,
or Entrance Gates, alone combine the Doric with the
Ionic order. The columns of the facade are Doric, while
those of the interior are Ionic ; and the stern outlines and
massive dignity of the former are relieved by the grace
and elegance of the latter style. The Doric was an
emblem of ancient simplicity and austerity, and it would
have appeared somewhat forbidding at the entrance to
the Acropolis if it had not been modified by the
restheticism of a later period. Yet the Ionic is kept
in the background as though it had been admitted
under protest, as a concession to the fashion of the day.
Tiie ruined temples and the fragments strewn upon
the platform will keep the archaeologists of all nations
busy for many generations ; and the pages of the books
which have been written on the subject of the .Acropolis
would cover a large portion of the area. If the ancient
authors could have foreseen the insatiable curiositv'of the
nineteenth centar\', how much trouble they might have
sav^ed their successors by explaining many antiquarian
and historical details which are now obscure and which
give rise to the most extraordinary speculations ! The
392 The Modern Odyssey.
failing attributed to the Athenians of old, namely, a too
eager desire after novelty, is no less imputable to some
modern archaeologists, whose aim is often to produce a
new and startling theory by which accepted traditions
shall be discredited. The variety of the materials and
the meagreness of the available information encourage
this propensity. In Archaeology as in History destructive
criticism is popular at the present time. While some
things have been made plain others have been obscured.
It might have been supposed that such a simple matter
as the date of the great stairway would have been clearly
elucidated ; yet if this is still an open question, in what
mazes and wildernesses of conjecture will not the lesser
objects of the Acropolis be lost ! It is practically im-
possible to travel outside a very narrow track of uncon-
tested facts without being involved in endless disputa-
tions.
Wild flowers have spread themselves over the sum-
mit, and the yellow daisies of a summer's growth gleam
among ruined cornices and coffered ceilings and lay their
gold beside broken columns of white marble. The plat-
form is gradually assuming an appearance of order as
the work of exploration proceeds, but the greater part is
still covered with shapeless blocks of stone. Paths have
been made through the debris, and the chief points of
interest can be reached without clambering over the
obstacles. The space between the PropyLta and the
great temple has been cleared of its larger encum-
brances, and the old road, corrugated in ridges and fur-
rows to prevent slipping, and the depressions where
the sacrificial altars stood, are now laid bare.
The despoiled and ruined Parthenon stands near the
southern face of the Acropolis on the highest point of the
plateau. The columns at cither end are intact, but those
in the middle part of the sides were overthrown two
Atiif.x^ and the Levant. 393
hundred \'ear.s aj^o when the powder magazine which the
besieged Turks had placed in the heart of the temple
was exploded by a Venetian bomb. The central por-
tion of the edifice was shattered, and the ends alone
are standing : but enough remains to show the magnifi-
cent proportions of the structure. It is the archetype
of the beauty and the grandeur of simplicity. The
massive Doric pillars rising immediately out of the base-
ment and surmounted by a single capital are the ideal
representation of purity in Art. When viewed from the
slope inside the PropyKxa the Parthenon stands against
a background of blue sky. The full width of the west-
ward front is displayed, and the few columns remaining
on the northern side show the longitudinal extent of the
temple, while the gaping void in the centre proclaims
the measure of the destruction wrought by the explo-
sion. Franks, Venetians, Turks, and Englishmen did
their, best to mutilate the structure, but they failed to
annihilate it. Ruin has not made it less majestic or
impressive. The pillars rear their heads to the sky as
proudly as ever. During more than a score of centuries
the Parthenon has been an object of admiring envy. No
later building of the same style has equalled or even
approached it, and its wounds testify to its place in the
history of the world.
A shell from the siege train of ^lorosini the Venetian
demolished the main portion, but the cr}- of lamentation
over the ruins was not heard for more than a century,
and it is only since the revival of arch;\:ology that the
full e.xtcnt of the loss has been appreciated. The
Parthenon, moreover, has suffered almost as severely
from its friends as from its foes. It has been looted by
the principal museums of Western I'AU'ope. A Scotch
Peer was the chief offender, and from the time of ]]\Ton
he has been the target of censure, and with some justice.
394 '^HE Modern Odyssey.
But at the period when he carried away the frieze and
presented it to the British Museum the Parthenon was
not only neglected but also in the hands of the Turks ;
and he not unnaturally thought that the sculpture was in
peril, and that it should be placed beyond the reach of
mischief The event proved that he was mistaken, but
he should not be unduly blamed for not having foreseen
that within a few years the Acropolis would look down
upon a new Athens, the restored capital of the Greeks,
and that the Parthenon would be taken under the pro-
tection of all the archaeological schools of F.urope. It
would, however, be a graceful act on the part of England
to restore to Greece the frieze which formed for many
centuries the chief adornment of Minerva's Temple, but
which now lies wrenched from its place and under the
murky skies of London.
The general effect of Doric architecture supports the
theory that the idea of it was derived from Egypt. Its
massive proportions and simple grandeur recall the
edifices of the more ancient civilisation, and even some
of the details are reproductions. Fluted columns — the
leading characteristic of the style — arc found in a tomb
in Nubia of the age of Rameses. No arches are used,
because, as in Egypt, the beam is the constructi\e
feature. But it is rather in the solidity and impressive
elevation that the resemblance exists most strongly.
Although an Egyptian Temple and a Greek Doric
Temple have no similarity in plan, yet the same breadth
and amplitude of design pervades them. P^ach is com-
posed of huge blocks of stone wrought so carefully and
exactly that their size does not give them an unwieldy
appearance. The germ of the exotic was brought from
the Nile, and the genius of the Greeks brought it to
perfection. \\. first sight Doric architecture appears to
be cold and precise. A closer examination will reveal
Athens axd the Levant. 395
most delicate modifications. The columns do not
decrease in breadth uniformly from the base to the
summit. The profile is not a straight line, but a slight
curve, termed the entasis or swell. It is imperceptible
to the eye, but it softens the rigidity of the general
effect. Without it a column would present a harsh
appearance ; but an inch or two of entasis endows it
with grace. In like manner the columns are not
perfectly vertical but slightly inclined inwards. Nor is
this treatment confined to perpendicular lines. The
steps leading up to the pavement from which the
columns spring run from end to end of the building.
If the eye is placed so that it can look along the line of
the pavement or of the steps, it will be found that this
line rises slightly in the centre and falls away a few
inches towards the extremities; and wherever horizontal
lines occur, as, for example, on the entablature, they are
modified in this manner. By this subtle device, which
only the sensitive eye of a Greek could have found
necessary or could have appreciated, the tendency of
Greek architecture towards formality was corrected. Xo
modern architect has ever devised such a refined em-
bellishment, which alone is sufficient to demonstrate the
artistic talent of Ancient Greece. Yet the study of
Classical architecture was for a long time so neglected
that the horizontal convexity remained unnoticed until
recent )-ears.
Near the northern brow of the Acropolis and imme-
diately opposite to the Parthenon stands a building in
every wa}- a contrast to it ; the two edifices no doubt
being intended by the unerring instinct of the Greeks
to set off each other's characteristics. The Parthenon is
a vast structure of compact figure and regular design
admirabl}' adapted to tlisplay the simplicity and dignit\-
of the Doric order. The lu'cchtheum, on the other hand,
39^ The Modern Odyssey.
is a group of three small temples combined in one
medium-sized building of irregular shape. The style is
Ionic, and the pillars arc therefore light and graceful
and the capitals richly ornamented with volutes. As
the Parthenon is the grandest so the Erechthcum is the
most beautiful of all Greek structures. The skill with
which the difficulties arising from the inequalities of the
ground have been overcome is remarkable. The three
porches are on different levels and face in different direc-
tions, yet the whole is in perfect harmony. It is impos-
sible to detect a back, so to speak, to the edifice. From
every point of view it presents a symmetrical appearance.
The Portico of the Caryatides is still very lovely, although
of the original six Maidens supporting the beam but
three remain ; and these have suffered violence. One
figure which was carried away by Lord Elgin into
captivity in the British Museum has been replaced by an
imitation in terra-cotta, and another has been restored by
a German sculptor. In spite of the iconoclastic nine-
teenth century the Erechthcum is still the most admirable
building in Greece ; and what it must have been in
ancient times can only be conjectured by the help of the
exquisite fragments lying around it. The ground is
strewn with enriched entablatures, stone fret-work,
guilloche ornaments, carved cornices, and coffered ceil-
ings. The architect had thrown off the restraint of the
severer Doric, and revelled in the lavish decorations
admissible in the Ionic, in which an Asiatic influence is
discernible. As the Greeks became more luxurious,
they tired of the stern and solid Doric which they had
derived from Africa, and borrowed from another con-
tinent. The Ionic volute is found in Persian ruins, and
the general style of the ornamentation indicates an
Asiatic prototype refined and simplified by a due
admixture of the plainer order. The Greeks were
Athens amd the Levant. 397
adapters rather than originators. Whatever was worthy
of assimilation in foreign art they annexed with excellent
judgment.
Two theatres, one Greek, the other Roman, lie under
the shelter of the southern wall of the rose-grey Acro-
polis. The former is dedicated to Dionysos and is open
to the sky. The auditorium faces the Bay of Phalcrum
and the Gulf of /Egina, an ideal background to any
drama. No less than thirty thousand playgoers could
find seats to witness the first representation of a tragedy
by Sophocles or Euripides. The lower tiers are fitted
with marble stalls engraved with the titles of the officials
who occupied them of right. In the place of honour in
the centre is the fauteuil of the Priest of Dionysos.
Near it are the stalls assigned to the Priest of the Muses,
the Priest of the Twelve Gods, the Priest of Hephaistos,
and the Priest of Asclcpios. Inscriptions elsewhere set
apart the seats of the Thesmothete, the Polemarch, and
the Herald ; and in the rear semicircular benches for the
common people rise tier above tier. The seats are
roomier and more comfortable than the stalls of a
modern theatre, but as the building was without a roof
and lay open to the meridian the sun must have beaten
down fiercely upon the audience. The scenery was
meagre and sin-.ple, but the genius of the poet enabled
the s[)Cctator to supply the deficiencies and picture the
scene in his mind's e}-e. The narrowness of the stage
precluded much action, and the performance partook of
the nature of a recitation ; the literary rather than the
spectacular merits of the piece determining its popularity.
A Greek play was not dependent upon stage carpenters
nor even upon actors for its success.
A few steps only divide the centuries in Athens. At
a short distance from the Theatre of Dionysos is the
Odeum of Regilla, a building the Roman origin of
398 The Modern Odyssey.
which is declared at once by the use of small arched
windows. It was formerly roofed ; and until a recent
period it was filled with earth and used as a bastion.
Below the Propyla^a a small spur runs out from the
base of the Acropolis, and a rugged mass of rock on
the summit is the famed Areopagus. Here the Courts
of Law were held, and here also the Athenians listened
to the appeals of St. Paul on behalf of the Unknown
God. A little further to the west is another historical
spot, the Pnyx. A rough pulpit hewn out of the living
rock stands in the midst of a grassy ridge overlooking
the slope on which the fickle crowd was wont to gather
to hear the address of a Demosthenes at a political
meeting. Midway between the Areopagus and the
railway-station — it seems an outrage on the ancients
to use the latter as a point of direction — is the old
Temple of Theseus. It was completed before the first
stone of the Parthenon had been laid, and notwith-
standing that it has been used by successive conquerors
as a prison, as a storehouse, and as barracks, it is still
uninjured. It is a plain oblong building of masonry
surrounded by a Doric colonnade ; and although the
proportions are not very good and the capitals are
unwieldy, it is interesting as the rough model out of
which the Great Temple of the Acropolis was de-
veloped. At one time it was a Christian Church
dedicated to the Patron Saint of England. Its lowly
position and the greater attractions elsewhere have no
doubt saved it from spoliation, but the sacrilegious hand
of Modern Greece has touched its precincts profanely, in
the literal sense of the word, and the space before the
Temple is now used as a Parade Ground.
Recent excavations have laid open the Ccrameicus,
a suburban quarter of Ancient Athens, in which the
cemetery was situated. The Romans used the old
Athexs axd the Leva XT. 399
burying place as a site for new buildings — an example
which has been occasionally followed in London at the
present time — and the surface is strewn with the remains
of the habitations of the living as well as of the dead.
Many monuments and pillars of grey marble inscribed
with the names of the dead are scattered over the
area. A tomb erected on the grave of a Thracian
consul, who bore the honoured name of Pythagoras,
has these words : —
" In tlie respect due to his title of Proxenos and to his own
merits as well as those of his ancestors, the Athenians have here
buried at the cost of the State Pythagoras, son of Dionysos.
Selyinbria, famous for its chargers, his native place, mourns his loss."'
On a neighbouring pillar is written this epitaph : —
" Here are buried Therpsander and Simylos of Corfu. Both
having come as Ambassadors to Athens died accidentally. The
Athenians have erected a tomi) to them at the cost of the State."
The hospitality of Athens was not confined to the
living : the Athenians were always eager to do honour
to the memory of distinguished strangers to whom fate
had allotted a grave in Attica. When a Prince who
bore a name that once was the most powerful in Europe
died fighting England's battles his body was not allowed
a resting-place in Westminster Abbey.
Some of the monuments are figured with representa-
tions of military prowess. A high relief of Pentelicon
marble — the hill from which it was quarried overlooks
the cit\- — pictures in life-size a young knight transfixing
with his spear an enemy fighting under his horse's feet.
The hero was
" Dexileos, son of Lysanias, born during the archonship of
Tersander, died during that of Kubulidcs ; one of the live knights
killed at Corinth."
These simple words have preserved to posterity the
4CO The Modern Odyssey.
name of a young soldier who perished in an act of
valour. On two adjacent pillars are the names of his
brother and sister,
" Lysias, son of Lysanias, and Melitta, daughter of Lysanias."
A bas-relief dedicated to Corallion, wife of Agathon,
has raised a delicate question. The neuter form of the
woman's name should indicate that she belonged to
the denii-nionde of Athens, and her reputation is in the
hands of the archaeologists. Neither her family nor her
birthplace is mentioned, a somewhat suspicious circum-
stance. Yet there is nothing in her sculptured figure to
suggest that she had transgressed the barriers of honour.
Corallion is seated veiled, with her graceful form en-
veloped in the modest folds of her garment, while her
husband, Agathon, stands before her in an attitude of
respectful tenderness. The outlines of her features are
soft and her expression is intellectual.
Another bas-relief represents a young and lovely girl
gazing at a ring taken from a casket of jewels which a
slave holds before her. Her small head is slightly bent
over her bosom, her hair is gathered into a snood, her
form is perfect ; and the exquisite curve of her lips, the
refinement of her profile, and her graceful pose complete
the elegiac picture of a dead girl cut off before her time
looking at the gems which, when living, she had made
more dazzling. Though many centuries have passed
since Hegeso was beautiful in Athens, tears are still
drawn into the eyes by the touching contrast of life
and death. Perhaps the artist who transmuted the cold
stone into a poem was her lover ; and the music of her
lips was lingering in his heart and the glance of her
sweet eyes was yet upon him as his chisel cut into the
marble which should record to all time the beauty of
• " Hegeso, daughter of Proxenos."
Athens a.\d the Levaxt. 401
The pillar of Dionysos, a person of whom nothing is
known, is inscribed with two epitaphs in verse ; one on
the architrave, the other on the base : —
"It is not difficult to commend excellent men: commenda-
tions crowd upon them. Thou art dead, having obtained them,
O Dionysos, now stretched upon the inevitable Persephone's
couch, that is common to all."
The lower inscription records the grief of the sur-
vivors : —
" Here the Earth covers thy body, Dionysos ; the Master of all
possesses thy undying spirit. Thou hast bequeathed at death an
eternal mourning to thy friends, to thy mother, to thy sisters. Thy
two countries, one which gave thee birth, and that other under
whose laws thou didst place thyself, have loved thee for thy great
wisdom."
Surely the stiff and formal compositions usually
inscribed upon modern tombs might advantageously
be permeated by some of the earnest simplicity of the
ancient epitaphs !
A few hundred yards from the Ccrameicus is its anti-
thesis in every respect, the modern Bazaar. The arch;e-
ologists have not yet decided whether the latter occuj^ics
the site of the Market Place of old Athens, which at one
time resounded with the billingsgate of the Sausage-Seller
in " The Knights " of .Aristophanes and at another echoed
with the discourses of Socrates. If so, the water-clock
on the Tower of the Winds would tell the time of day to
the dealers and loafers ; and as time-pieces are usuall\-
{)laced in the vicinit)' of places of public resort, the argu-
ment in favour of the identity of the modern Bazaar with
the ancient Agora is strengthened. In the centre is the
clock-tower presented by Lord IClgin to the people of
.Athens in return for the loot of the Parthenon, and at
the end is one of the few extant relics of Turkish rule, a
mosque which has been converted into barracks by the
A A
402 The Modern Odyssey.
present Government. The Tower of the Winds is an
octagonal structure adorned with allegorical friezes.
Boreas is represented as a bearded man -holding a conch-
shell ; the gentle Zephyr carries flowers in his hand ;
Libs lifts the poop of a ship : but although the emblems
are appropriate the execution of the work is heavy and
unpleasing. The weathercock which once crowned the
summit has disappeared, but traces of the old sun-dial
and of the cistern which supplied the clepshydra with
water drawn from a spring issuing from the Acropolis
can still be seen.
The degree of estimation in which a work of art is
held is sometimes more dependent upon external circum-
stances than upon actual merit. The Gate of Hadrian
stands at the edge of the open space, once occupied by the
Temple of Zeus, between the Boulevard of the Phil-
hellenes and the little river Ilissus. In any other city it
would be admired, but it has the misfortune to be over-
shadowed by the Acropolis. Persons who before their
arrival in Greece would have had difficulty in pointing
out the difference between a Doric and a Corinthian
capital are the first to detect its defects, and the ready
jargon of shallow criticism is hurled at it. Of the
six score columns which once were ranged around
and within the Temple of Zeus but sixteen remain ;
and the numerous statues of himself set up by the vain
Augustus, the Emperor by whom the temple was
completed, have all vanished. Some of the columns,
which are Corinthian and not in the best st}de of
that order, have been overthrown of late years by
natural causes. The children of Athens clamber \\\)
the fallen columns lying in order on the ground ; the
acanthus leaves of the capitals are in the dust ; and a
coffee-stall has been set up in the ruined colonnade of an
edifice declared by an ancient writer to be the one
Athens and the Levant. 403
temple on earth worthy of the majesty of the god to
whom it was dedicated. It occupied an acre and a half
of ground, and was only surpassed in size by the Temple
of Diana at Ephesus. Now its site is indicated by
a few pillars standing in a stony void outside the city.
Eleusis, Tatoi, and Marathon lie respectively North-
West, North, and North-East of Athens, but the diver-
gence in their directions is small compared with the
diversity of their claims upon a traveller, I^^ach is a
place of interest, Eleusis as the scene of ancient mystical
rites, Tatoi as a king's country palace, and Marathon —
but all the world knows why Marathon is famous. The
road to Eleusis leaves the city near the Cerameicus,
and having crossed the new Peloponnesian railway on the
level, traverses a belt of olive groves and passes by a
powder-mill. The railway station and the powder-mill
are not succeeded by further manifestations of the
spirit of the age, and the road plunges into ancient his-
tory without warning and enters the pass of Daphni,
where a few relics of the past have been left by Time and
his equally destructive rival Lord Elgin. On either side
the rocks are half hidden by scattered bushes and dark-
green firs, and soon a bend in the road discloses the
broad bay of Eleusis, a far-stretching sheet of the purest
blue water, fringed with gleaming white sands and shut
in by rugged hills of grey, olive, and purple. Salamis, a
tiny village glittering in the sun, is close to the scene of
the great naval battle which Themistocles won b\' an
artifice. When his countrymen had almost determined
on flight, he disclosed their intentions to the Persians,
who immediately surrounded them and forced a battle.
The victory of the Greeks gave occasion for an electoral
experiment ; and for the first time on record the single
transferable vote was used, a method of suffrage which
A A 2
404 The Modern Odyssey.
after many }'cars has been again suggested as the surest
means of determining the will of the people. When the
battle was over it was put to the vote among the captains
who should be selected as the bravest, and each officer, not-
withstanding the very questionable honour which a vic-
tory thus won reflected upon him individually, wrote his
own name first, and that of Themistocles second, who thus
obtained a majority of the suffrages. After emerging
from the pass of Daphni the road goes down to the
shore and skirts it until the village is reached. Kleusis
is placed upon a promontory-jutting out a little way into
the bay : an ancient mole still gives shelter to a few
fishing-boats ; and the ruins of Demeter's Temple are on
the low hill whereon of old stood a smaller Acropolis.
Tatoi is placed upon Mount Parnes and surrounded
by wooded slopes and hills. It is a most charming spot,
where climbing roses abound and form delightful avenues
and bowers and cool nooks, which arc all the more grate-
ful when the dust-storm is seen whirling upon the plain
below. i\thens and the Acropolis are prominent in the
middle distance, and beyond them are the turquoise waters
of the Mediterranean : and in the rear the mountain rises
to the old fiM'tress of Decclca, which in the other direction
looks down upon l^^ubcea. If the contrast between
Tatoi and the classical localities is great, it is not wholly
one of Time, for Nature is older than History ; and
though the gardens and the cojxses have been but
lately planted, yet the flowers which blossom and the
trees which give shade in that pleasant retreat of the
Scandinavian King of the (jreeks were there long before
the masons were fashioning the stones of the Parthenon,
If all travellers were compelled to state truthfully the
motives v\hich induce them U) visit Marathon the feelings
of the Muse of History would often be cruelly wounded
by the disclosures. Some g(j because the}' are afraid U)
Athens a\d the Levast. 405
stay away ; others from a reluctant sense of what is due
to the classical education they receiv^ed in youth ; others
because they will be in pleasant companionship ; but
not one in ten performs the task in a frame of mind
that would satisfy Clio. The pleasure of seein^r a spot
which preserves little or no trace of the historical event
connected with it will, if analysed, be found to be derived
almost wholly from the imag^ination, which could readily
supply the necessary associations in any other convenient
locality with no greater effort than is necessary to re-
enact a scene of the past on its original stage.
Marathon is about twenty miles from Athens. The
road rises gradually from the plain and enters a depres-
sion between Ilymettus and Fentclicon. During the
first two hours of the journey the drive is uninteresting,
and rough ground strewn with rocks lies on either hand,
but further on is a picturesque valley filled with pines
and shrubs and wild flowers. The horses are changed
at a bridge crossing a little stream, and here, only a few
miles from the field on which the ancient Greeks defeated
the Persians, some modern Greeks performed the most
cruel act of brigandage of the present centur\-, and
brought disgrace to the honoured name of Marathon
and furnished another remarkable instance of the iron}-
of history. The road follows the valley until the latter
opens on to the Straits of Eubcea, and the battle-field is
soon reached. It is a level tract l\"ing between a range
of grey hills and the belt of water separating the island
from the mainland, and it is formed into a crescent b)"
the encircling ridges and the cur\e of the ba}-. Fields
of corn, vine\'ards, and orchards occupy the battle-field ;
and the cultivated patches near the shore are surrounded
by the reedy growths of the marsh, which has not }"et
been entireh' reclaimed, l^ucolic quiet broods ujion the
scene. Birds sing in the sunshine, husbandmen move
4o6 Thr Modern Odyssey.
lazily among the crops, and here and there a cottage
stands in a clump of trees. The dark cones of a few
cypresses are the only feature in the landscape, except
the sleepy village of Marathon, which lies at the edge of
the plain all unconscious of its fame. Across the channel,
on which perhaps a solitary sail may be seen, rise the
neutrally coloured hills of Eubcea, whose shelter prevents
the winds from stirring too violently the waves that
break upon the sandy shore, and makes the bay a safe
place of disembarkation for an invading army.
The absence of conspicuous landmarks renders it
difficult to follow the recorded incidents of the battle,
but it is evident that the character of the ground — a
plain flanked by practicable hills — gave no special
advantage to a small force contending against a large
army, and the victory of the Greeks is all the more
creditable to them.
It was inevitable that spurious antiquities should be
found upon such an historic site. Wherever the pilgrims
go, there sooner or later such objects as are likely to
interest them will be pointed out, in order to attest the
credibility of the tradition by circumstantial evidence.
At Elsinorc, the scene of a well-known tragedy w^hich
either Shakespeare or Lord Bacon did not write, the guides
ha\-e invented a tomb of Hamlet ; and a fictitious tomb
of Juliet is pointed out at Verona. In the reliquary of
an old church on the Rhine the skull of St. Peter when
he was a boy is shown. In like manner a mound at
Marathon on which the tourist eats his luncheon and
drinks to the memory of the fallen was said to be the
grave of the one hundred and ninety-two Athenians who
fell in the battle. When, however, the tumulus was lately
opened it was found to contain, not the bones of the
Greeks, but the arrow-heads of a prehistoric period. A
small portion of that imagination which every traveller
Athens axd the Levant. 407
should possess is all that is necessary to rectify the
mistake.
The event of Marathon is too remote to excite
enthusiasm. Most persons will feel satisfaction at the
result of the battle, tempered by the knowledge that in
those days whenever a nation was not engaged in
defending its own liberties it was generally attacking
the liberties of another. In justice to the Persians it
must be said that they probably had as much excuse for
invading Greece as Great Britain had in the last century
for invading the provinces of the Mogul Empire. It is
unfair to judge them too harshly because they were
defeated ingloriously at Marathon. Had they been
successful the modern world would have regarded the
issue much as it regards the Moorish invasion of Spain,
the Spanish invasion of South America, the Mahomedan
invasions of India, and other similar events — as interest-
ing facts in history, not exactly deserving of approval,
but exciting no very violent feelings of indignation, and
offering no practical reason for regret on account of their
influence on the history of the world.
A voyage in the Levant among the isles of Greece is
esteemed to be the most poetic i:)hase of travel ; but
poetry and romance, no less than the more material
forms of enjoyment, arc frequently dependent on the
weather for their power of giving pleasure, and the early
days of May in the Archipelago are often as cold and as
wet as in England. When I'sarra, Skio, and ]\Iitylcne
can only be seen dimly through a rain-cloud, when a
bleak wind blows down from Thcssah-, when the deck is
covered with groups of sea-sick Levantines, the romantic
perspective of the /Egcan of the past is concealed by the
unalluring foreground. Neither Sappho nor Lord B}Ton
could have written poetry under such circumstances.
4o8 The Modern Odyssey.
In justice, however, to the Mediterranean it must be
acknowledged that the bad weather is usually local and
temporary. Ships pass in and out of a gale in the course
of a few hours. The moods of the Terrene Sea are
essentially feminine. A short display of hasty temper,
a downfall of passionate tears, are soon succeeded by
smiles and bright glances.
The necessity of subordinating the non-Anglo-Saxon
races to laws and regulations is curiously exemplified in
the codes of rules which are hung up conspicuously in
the majority of foreign ships. The conduct of an
Englishman and even of an American is governed by
instinct, and is generally correct. He usually acts upon
the principle — and there is much to be said in favour of
it — that Rules are made for Fools, and his natural
inclination is to infringe them ; therefore the fewer there
are the better. In dealing with a Frenchman, an Italian,
or a German, on the other hand, it appears to be neces-
sary to assume that he may claim the right to do what-
ever is not expressly forbidden. In the regulations of
the Austrian-Lloyd steamers running between the Pirajus
and Constantinople appears this remarkable appeal in
four languages : —
" Persons having the right to be treated as persons of education
will no doubt conform themselves to the Rules of Good Society
by respecting their fellow-travellers and paying a due regard to the
Fair Sex."
This quotation from the common law of manners,
preceded by others of the same nature, is brought promi-
nently to the notice of every passenger entering the
saloon. A different state of things prevails on board an
English ship, where the rules have been tersely codified
into one short sentence — " Do not speak to the Man at
the Wheel."
i\s the steamer approaches the coast of Asia Minor
Athens axd the Levaxt. 409
the temptation to quote Virgil and to make classical
allusions becomes strong, but it should be steadfast!)'
resisted. Ships of moderate tonnage use the channel
between Tencdos and the mainland, and pass across
the mouth of Besika Bay, which ten years ago was
the lair of the British Fleet. It is scarcely better
than an open roadstead, but the island gives it some pro-
tection. A line of disused wind-mills flanks a picturesque
village on the crest of the slopes north of the Bay, and
the coast falls away to Kum Kalch, a town built on a
sandy spit near the mouth of the divine Scamander and
commanding the entrance to the Dardanelles. The
cuneiform ledges of Imbro rise out of the water on the
port bow, and the cone of Mount Athos, where a Russian
communit}-, half military and half monastic, is esta-
blished in a Turkish province, is sometimes seen on the
horizon a hundred miles away in the West ; and the
site of Troy is but a short distance beyond the low hills
on the shore towards the East. A high promontory of
white and yellow cliffs and rich green slopes stands on
the European side of the Dardanelles and looks down
upon the low Asiatic shore-line, which after bearing
away for a few miles once more approaches humbly the
bolder hills of the European bank.
At Chanak, where the hills form a promontory run-
ning into a corresponding bay on the Asiatic shore, the
banks arc hardly half a mile apart ; and at the Cit}'
of Dardanelles all ships are obliged to call for permission
to ascend the channel which divided Hero from Lcandcr.
Beyond Chan'ak the Straits again broaden out and the
European shore loses much of its boldness ; but if the
evening lights are drawing over the land the quiet beauty
of the scenery is very pleasing to the e\'e.
A run of ten or twelve hours across the Sea of Mar-
mora, which takes its name from an island of marble
410 The Modern Odyssey.
near the Asiatic shore, brings the steamer within a few
miles of Constantinople. The green fields around San
Stefano come in sight, and a bright and sunny shore,
over which the dim figures of the Balkans are sometimes
visible, glides past. The domes and minarets of Stam-
boul appear on the water-line, and in a little while the
wall and towers of the city take shape among the mass
of buildings. The dark-green cypress groves rise beyond
the yellow houses of Scutari, and far away in the East
the snows of the Asian mountains glisten in the light.
As Seraglio Point is rounded Pera and the Tower of
Galata seem to spring out of the mouth of the Golden
Horn, and the blue stream of the Bosphorus is seen
stretching away to the North. A forest of masts grows
along the shore, but many of the usual features of a
Western seaport are absent. No plain, unsightly ware-
houses disfigure the margin of the water, and there is not
a dock or a quay in sight.
The steamer is moored in the stream off Pera, and is
soon surrounded by a flotilla of shore-boats. The
necessary ceremony of quarantine is performed in a
leisurely and perfunctory manner ; the passengers, im-
patient at the delay, scramble over the side and enter the
Ottoman PLmpirc at the Custom House Wharf, a dirty,
awkward landing not larger or more convenient than
the quay of a small fishing village in Ireland.
CHAPTER XXVII.
ON THE SHORES OF THE BOSPHORUS.
It is natural that a silver key should facilitate access to
the Golden Horn, and if it is not used when the baggage
and the passports are examined at the little wooden
shed which docs duty as a Custom House, difficulties
may arise, and obnoxious books such as a history of the
Greek War of Independence or a too candid Guide to
Turkey, either of which may be freely purchased from
the booksellers of Pera, will be confiscated. An alley
that would be thought squalid in Seven Dials leads from
the landing-place into Galata ; the imperial aspect of
Constantinople when viewed from a distance seems
to have passed away like a dream, and a feeling of in-
tense disappointment succeeds the admiration which
the appearance of the City lately excited as the ship was
steaming in from the Sea of Marmora.
Constantinople, the languishing capital of a moribund
Empire, is built, like Rome, upon seven hills ; and like
Caesar's Gaul, is divided into three parts, two of which,
Pera and Stamboul, are in Europe, while Scutari on
the other side of the Bosphorus is in Asia. The Golden
Horn separates Pera from Stamboul, which are again
connected by two clumsy wooden bridges, one of which
serves also as a stcamboat-picr. Stamboul is triani;ular
in shape, having the Golden Horn and the Sea of Mar-
mora for sides and the Roman Wall for base. The
412 The Modern Odyssey.
more densely populated portion lies towards the apex and
along the water ; and in the direction of the wall the
habitations gradually become less frequent. A valley
through which trickles the little rivulet Lycus runs
parallel to the Golden Horn and cuts off a third of the
triangle. The condition of the dirty and ill-paved streets
makes it impossible to roam through them with pleasure
either on foot or in a carriage, and the tramway running
across the city from end to end is on the whole the least
disagreeable method of examining the native quarter
and of reaching the outer wall. It starts from the New
Bridge, and passing in front of the fine Mosque of
Valideh Sultan ascends the hill and skirts the wall of the
Sublime Porte, from which it soon doubles back in the
direction of the great wall. The Sublime Porte is a
Palace and Citadel built upon the apex of the triangle.
Its precincts have been invaded by the railway, an inno-
vation which has been fated to attack the most Turkish
and conservative quarter of Constantinople. Mosques,
large and small, are everywhere seen.
The renowned Mosque of St. Sophia is outwardl)'
an unsightly structure. Its external appearance is so
indifferent that but for its repute no one would be
encouraged to enter it. An irregular pile of detached
walls, arches, buttresses, low roofs, and outbuildings,
surmounted by a dome and flanked by four minarets
of simple and not very pleasing design, is disappoint-
ing to travellers who have gazed at the splendid and
symmetrical elevations of the Mosques of India. But
the grandeur and magnificence of the interior soon make
up for the want of beauty in the exterior. When the
great bronze doors are opened, disappointment is for-
gotten in wonder and admiration. The edifice is on
a scale so colossal that the sense of vastness and
magnitude soon overpowers every other feeling, and
Ox THE Shores of the Bosphorus. 413
renders the mind indifferent to details. It is as though
a great solitude were imprisoned within walls. The
mightiest columns in the world spring out of the pave-
ment, a spacious apse stands towards the East, a greater
vault is overhead. All the decorations are structural ;
a small pulpit, a few platforms for readers, and a long
array of lamps being the only furniture. Nearly two
hundred feet above the floor is the wonderful pendent-
ive dome, resting on half-domes and arches in such
a manner that no part has a support immediately beneath
it, and it seems in consequence to be poised in space.
It is emblazoned with letters fifty feet in length, and
on the spherical curves between the base and the half-
domes are the four archangels with folded wings and
faces hidden by stars. Below are a circular gallery and
a row of granite pillars with a pier at either end, a vast
mass of masonry faced with coloured marbles. Four
monolithic columns of green granite, brought from
Diana's Temple at Ephesus, having on either side
twelve others, support the women's gallery ; and near
the western wall stand other four columns of re i
porphyry, which once were in the Roman Temple of
the Sun. Outside the coloimades are aisles walled with
marble and large enough to contain the {)opulation iA
a considerable village ; while in the whole space of the
Mosque twenty-five thousand persons once took refuge,
half of whom were massacred within the sacred walls
b\' Mahomed the Second, liehind the western wall is
a lofty corridor, and another bc_\-ond it reached through
bra/.cn doors, huge castings still declaring the Christian
origin of the edifice in the maimed upright of the Cross,
the arms of which have been destroyed. Another \-estige
(){ the older worship is a figure of Christ, which, in spite
of inany la\"ers of gilding, can still be traced ; and the
true orientation of the building, which, unlike other
414 I^HE Modern Odyssey.
mosques, does not face towards Mecca, also proves its
Christian purpose. The defect is roughly corrected by
the position of the prayer carpets, which lie at an angle
with the axis. No one who has seen the interior of
St. Sophia will greatly wonder at the mediaeval supei-
stition which assigned a supernatural origin to its design.
For eleven hundred years the Church and Mosque has
been constantly endangered by natural and political
disturbances, and yet it is still one of the wonders of the
world.
The evening service during Ramadan, the Maho-
medan Lent, is an impressive sight. The interior is
illuminated with thousands of tiny lamps, and long
lines of worshippers stand in rows diagonally across
the floor facing the Mihrab, which, as the edifice was
not built in the direction of Mecca, is not in the centre
but slightly inclined towards the south. At a given
signal all the people kneel down and touch the ground
with their foreheads, and as they rise the great cry
" There is no God but God " echoes in the domes and
aisles ; then a solitary voice far away in the distance
chants the sacred verses, and soon the congregation bow
down with hands on their knees and crouch to the earth.
The vast area of the interior, bounded only by the gloom
of the side aisles and the domes, seems to be increased
by the orderly arrangement of the worshippers in lines ;
the silence is unbroken save by the tongue of the reader
and the solemn cry that comes at intervals from the lips
of the people.
The Great Mosque of Sultan Ahmed is not far from
St. Sophia. Like the latter, its exterior is unplcasing,
but its size and internal simplicity give it great beauty
within. Four fluted marble pillars, no less than twelve
yards in diameter, support the dome of the vast fabric.
The upper parts are decorated in blue and white, and
O.y THE Shores of the Bosphorus. 415
the effect of the great canopy thus coloured is very fine.
The edifice is kept cleaner and in better repair than
St. Sophia, and it has the almost unique distinction of
being flanked by six instead of by four minarets. The
founder was compelled by the religious sentiment of the
time, which considered that an affront had been put
upon the Great Mosque at Mecca, to add two minarets
to that shrine ; an addition not in accordance with the
genius of Saracenic architecture. Four minarets are all
that is required to give the necessary balance to the design.
In the Turkish Mosques the absence of beauty and
artistic care in the minuter structural decorations, and
the presence of makeshift embellishments, are at once
noticed by those who have seen the Jumma Musjids
of India. Though the designs are frequently as grand
in conception and in execution, the ornaments are often
tawdry ; paint is used in place of marble on the walls,
and decay and neglect are hidden for a generation by
whitewash and gilt.
Outside the Mosque of Sultan Ahmed is the Hippo-
drome of Constantine, now an open square, wherein
Greek, Roman, and Mediaeval History are brought
together. The minaret galleries, from which ihe nuiezzin
calls good Mussulmans into the Mosque every afternoon
at the hour of prayer, look down upon these ancient
columns. One is an Egyptian obelisk another is the
stone core of a bronze monument, and the third is
the Column of the Three Serpents, a bronze pillar
which is supposed once to have supported the tripod
of Apollo's priestess at Del[)hi. The Greeks are said
to have presented it to the oracle after the battle of
Plata^a ; and Constantine set it up to adorn his city
on the Bosphorus, where travellers from all countries
curiously gaze at it under the shadow of Sultan Ahmed's
Mosque.
416 The Modern Odyssey.
Whether the Bazaar of Stamboul exists chiefly for
the profit of the purchaser or of the seller or of the
dragoman with whom most travellers encumber them-
selves is a question not easy to determine. The presence
of a middleman appears to be indispensable to bring the
producer into relation with the consumer not only of
the material things of commerce, but also of things
incorporeal, such as the opinion of counsel or the right
to receive so much per annum in dividends. An l^lastern
dragoman is not by nature a more unprincipled person
than a solicitor or a stockbroker, but the temptations to
which he is exposed are greater. He acts as cicerone
to a Frank who in his view is a wealthy man, who is
ignorant of the language and of the customs of the
people and also of the value of commodities in the
money of the place. He is paid not only by his
employer, but also by a percentage on the money
expended by the latter, and therefore it is his interest
not to allow the prices to be unduly depressed. He is
practically master of the situation. He can bo}xott the
dealers and mislead his patron almost with impunity.
Yet he is a necessary evil. Without his aid a traveller
would probably fail to acquire anything he desired at a
reasonable price. But if the traveller has a certain inde-
pendence of character and is a judge of men he may
generally extract some benefit out of the presence of the
dragoman. The latter should be regarded as a half-
trained pointer: he should not be implicitly trusted
under all circumstances of time and place. Those
shops which he palpably ignores should not always be
avoided, nor shcuild his own particular selections be
regarded as indisputably the best. On the whole,
however, the average dragoman conducting the average
tourist to the average Turkish shopkeeper has the mo.-,t
profitable occupation of the three.
^.v THE Shores of the Bosphorus. 417
The Bazaar of Stamboul is almost a town in itself.
A network of covered arcades lined with stalls and
benches covers an area of many acres. The articles for
sale are of all kinds, but each trade is confined to one
particular locality. One aisle is occupied by the jewellers,
another by the shoemakers and workers in leather,
another by the booksellers, another by the dealers in
silks and embroideries, and so on. It is a curious and a
picturesque rather than a very attractive sight. The
atmosphere is close and sickly ; for the bazaar is always
densely crowded except on Friday, the Mahomedan day
of rest. The aggregate length of the aisles and arcades
extends to some miles, and a whole day can easily be
spent in them even if much time is not wasted in
chaffering and higgling. The best class of articles will
be found in the inner shops at the rear of the benches ;
but the commodities are not generally remarkable
either for beauty, utility, or cheapness. As a spectacle
of Eastern manners the bazaar is an interesting place in
\\hich to wile away an hour or two, but not with a view
of expending money to advantage.
Each street in Constantinople supports its own
colony of dogs, who defend it against all canine
intruders. If a strange dog invades the premises, he
is set upon by the local pack and quickly retreats, or
is killed. The animals are b\- no means miserable in
appearance. Their fearless confidence shows that the_\'
are not ill-treated, and many of them are fat. They lie
at full length on the pavement or under the kerbstones,
regardless of the inconvenience they cause. A few who
are maimed or woimded iiave suffered more probably
from their own carelessness than from any active cruelty
on the part of the inhabitants ; and on the whole they
seem to lead tolerabl)' happy lives. It might have been
thought that h\drophobia would have been ver\- prevalent
B B
41 8 The Modern Odyssey.
among so many ownerless dogs ; but such a terrible
calamity as a city infested with rabid animals does not
appear ever to have occurred.
The distance between Seraglio Point and the Walls
is more than four miles. Stamboul was fortified along
the sea-shore as well as on the landward side, but only
the latter remains in a defensible condition. In the
period intervening between the reign of Constantine the
Great and -the death of his successor, the Constantine
who fell at the head of his soldiers on the birthday of
the Ottoman Empire of Constantinople, the Walls had
a full share of fighting. The battlements bear not only
the scars of Time but also the wounds inflicted by the
rude implements of war used in ancient sieges ; and a
long line of ruined towers on triple walls breached in
many places joins the Sea of Marmora to the Golden
Horn. The parapet gives a grand view of the city and
its vicinit}'. To the westward lie the green plains of
Roumelia, broad and rich and unbroken by hills for
miles; and near the walls arc the dark groves of cypress
which embower the cemeteries outside the gates. On
the other side is Stamboul. with its little grey and brown
houses peeping out of a mass of foliage, and standing up
against the sky above them are the minarets and domes
of St. Sophia and the Mosque of Sultan Ahmed ; while
beyond the Bosphorus is Scutari, the Asiatic ward of
Constantinople. On the south the Sea of Marmora
unrolls its broad silver band, and the slopes of Pcra and
Galata are seen rising from the northern shore of the
Golden Horn. I'^.ven under a dull sky the pictm-e is
fine, but when lit up by a gorgeous sunset or shining in
the full blaze of a summer noon it is superb.
Stamboul has lately been placed in direct communi-
cation by train with Western luu'ope, and the next few
)-ears may completely change its aspect. At present it
O.v THE Shores of the Bosphorus. 419
IS essentially Turkish. Thou^^h it is traversed by a
tramway and a railway, it has hitherto been less altered
than many Indian towns by the intrusion of Western
ideas. In spite of the geography books, Stamboul is
in Asia. The features of almost every passer-by arc
those of a Turkish face, wearing that half-proud, half-
mournful expression characteristic of a fallen race of
warriors preparing for retreat into Asia.
Time is fighting against the Crescent. Pera has
been taken and a veiled enemy is lurking under the
walls of Stamboul. The Turk cannot yet discern the
face of the unseen foe ; he knows not whether it be the
visage of a Muscovite, a Schlave, or a Greek. The very
names of his city show him that he is an intruder. Con-
stantinople speaks of the Roman ICmpire, Stamboul and
Pera are two Greek words, and Galata is said to be so
called from a colony of the Gauls. The Turkish armies
\\hich once threatened Vienna and recently garrisoned
Belgrade are now hemmed in by the Balkans. Another
generation may see them expelled into Anatolia, for
though the Eastern Question has lasted in an almost
unchanged form from the time of the Crusades until
now, it does not seem probable that it can continue un-
answered much longer. The precedent of the Moorish
occupation of Spain will be followed. Then a kindred
race to the Turks overthrew a decrej)it off>hoot of the
Roman Empire and maintained itself for centuries, until
it made itself impossible. The entl cannot be ver}- far
off, and then .Anatolia will be to the coming luiipire of
t.ie Balkan peninsula what ^^lorocco is now to the
Iberian peninsula.
Galata is the trading quarter of the city l}"ing on the
slopes and foot f)f the hill overlooking the mouth of the
Golden Plorn from the north. The narrow streets are
crowded with strolling foot-passengers who, whether
B P. 2
420 The Modern Odyssey.
they are coming or going, are equally in the way.
Almost all the houses are shops, yet few of them attain
the dimensions of a warehouse, although Constantinople
is favourably placed for commerce, and is moreover one
of the largest cities in the world. The colony of Western
Europe is at Pera on the crest of the hill. It can be
reached from Galata cither by a steep and tortuous
street or by an inclined railway which climbs the ascent
in a tunnel and emerges in the upper air near the end of
the main thoroughfare and not far from a conspicuous
landmark — the Genoese Tower of Galata. The pave-
ment of Pera would be condemned even by a citizen of
New York ; there is but one tolerable street. Many of
the Embassies are fine buildings situated in the midst of
mean alleys.
Pera and Galata are the least interesting quarter of
Constantinople, as well as the most cosmopolitan. The
predominance of foreigners is shown in the absence of
Mosques. While Stamboul and Scutari bristle with
minarets and domes, hardly one is seen rising above the
roofs of Pera, and although the western slope of the hill
is covered with small Mahomedan ccmctciits the living-
Turk is here a stranger in his own land.
Fires play a leading part in the reconstruction of a
Turkish city, and Pera has benefited by them to some
extent. The better parts of the town have been rebuilt
on the ashes of former conflagrations. If the whole of
Galata and the greater part of Pera were consumed a
new city would perhaps arise more worthy of its superb
position on the Golden Plorn and the Bosphorus, for
although glimpses of these fair waters are occasionally-
seen from the hotel windows or down the steep lanes
leading from the plateau to the water's edge, Pera in
spite of its elevation is neither beautiful in itself nor
does it an}'whcre affijrd a good view of the scencr)-
(9.V THE Shores of the Bosphorus. 421
around. If Constantinople had been the capital of an
Akbar or a Shah Jehan a magnificent Palace and Jumma
Musjid would be standing on the crest of the hill,
and how magnificent would have been the prospect from
the kiosks in the Court or from the pinnacles of the
minarets !
Scutari, the third great division of Constantinople —
if Pera and Galata are reckoned as one — lies on the
Asiatic side of the Bosphorus facing the Golden Horn.
The Tower of Leander is built upon a rock detached
from the promontory, and is used as a lighthouse. The
tradition connecting it with the lover of Hero is modern.
The Turks call it by the soft title of Kis Koulessi, or the
Maiden's Tower. Once upon a time there was a beauti-
ful girl of whom it was prophesied that she would die
by the bite of a serpent. It was not difficult in those
days to dispose of a person to whom an inconvenient
prediction was attached, and her relations did what they
could to render it impossible of fulfilment by shutting
her up in the rocky islet of the Bosphorus, though no
doubt had ^he been consulted she would have preferred
to run the risk and to go into society like other girls.
The prophet, however, in spite of all the precautions was
not to be deprived of his victim, and the stor\' goes that
an asp lurked in the flowers which some lover, who knew
of her beauty only b\- repute, had sent to her prison^ and
that she perished b)- its sting.
The \icw from the promontorx- adjacent to Kis
Koulessi is admirable. The islet with its tower and
beacon mast stands in the foreground with the Bosphorus
eddying past it, and bcN'ond the broad stream is the
swelling eminence of the Sublime Porte with the palaces
among the trees. The domes antl minarets of the
Moscjues of Stamboul appear on the crest of the hill, and
the ruined city walls on the shore are seen rising out of
422 The Moderx Odyssfa.
the water. Immediately in front is the water space between
Stamboul and Galata, crowded with shipping, while to
the north the gorge of the Bosphorus is seen with its
shores lined with arsenals and palaces of white stone, as
it brings down the tribute of half the rivers of Europe
to the Sea of Marmora, which makes a horizon unbroken
by land over a wide segment of the south.
The greater part of Scutari is covered with ceme-
teries. The Turks, foreseeing their approaching expul-
sion from Europe, usually bury their dead in Asia. The
jirincipal Mahomedan graveyard is a vast cypress forest
with many hundred thousand tall and narrow tomb-
stones planted beneath the trees. A small upright piece
of marble brought from the Isle of Marmora is placed at
the head and foot of every grave, and the sex of the dead
is indicated by the presence or absence of a carved
turban or fez. The graves are badly kept and the stones
are inclined at all angles, many of them having fallen to
the ground. The only striking mausoleum is ])laced
over the resting-place, not of a human being, but of a
favourite horse of Sultan Mahmoud. On one side of the
bay of Kadikeui, a many-coloured little town on the edge
of the water, is the British Cemetery, in which eight
thousand invalided and wounded soldiers from the
Crimea are buried. It is a beautiful garden on tlie brink
of a yellow cliff rising out of the Sea of Marmora.
Smooth lawns of English turf encircle the tombs ; haw-
thorns, lilacs, and roses overshadow them. The chief
monument, a small obelisk standing on a large sfjuare
base and supported at each corner by nn Angel, is not
worthy of the place or of the dead. The proportions
are bad and the effect is poor. The faces of the Angels,
which are the work of Marochetti, are of a noble type,
with broad brows and firm chins ; but the lips wear that
faint sneer which is observable on the features of the
On the Shores of the Bosphorus. 423
same sculptor's figure in the Memorial Garden at
Cavvnpore ; and the half-folded wings meeting at the
tips are heavy and resemble the planking of a boat.
Another mistake has been made in the inscription in
English, French, Italian, and Turkish on the sides of the
base of the obelisk ; the most consjMcuous words in it
being Queen Victoria, which are cut in much larger
characters than the rest of the epitaph, and are alone
legible from a distance.
It is pleasant to escape from the unclean and crowded
streets of Stamboul and Pera and to wile away an after-
noon in a caique on the Golden Horn. The motion is
easy, though the craft is so crank that absolute quietude
on the part of the passengers is necessary. The section
of the haven between the Old Bridge and the New
Bridge is reserved for the smaller merchant vessels.
Above the Old Bridge is the Naval Arsenal, where on
either side of the fairway are moored the ironclads, most
of them obsolete and dismantled, which were the whim
of Sultan Abdul Aziz, and which have never done much
good to anyone except the English and Erench naval
architects by whom they were built. Above the Arsenal
the Horn bends to the north towards the Sueet Waters
of Europe ; and as this division is used only by caiqiics
and ferry steamers it is a delightful reach for a saunter
on the water between the two divisions of the most won-
derful city in Europe. Not even a Turk can rob a short
journey on the Golden Horn of its delight, however un-
]:)lcasant he renders one by land through his neglect of
the streets and roadwa\-s.
San Stefano, a place which owes all its renown to
the circumstance that the abortive treat}' of 1878,
whereby Russia endeavoured to convert Turkc}' into
a dependenc}' of the .Muscovite lunpire, was negc^tiated
in it, is a quiet little village on the shore of the Sea
424 The Modern Odyssey.
of Marmora, at a distance of half an hour by raihvay
from Constantinople on the Adrianople line. It is
Greek rather than Turkish in appearance, and the por-
tion lying on the water's edge is decidedly picturesque.
In the small drawing-room of a house upon the shore
the plenipotentiaries met to formulate an agreement,
which was soon cancelled by the public opinion of
Europe. The Greek restaurant-keeper remembers the
brief Russian occupation with pleasure, for the Mus-
covite love of cakes profited him to the extent of
several hundred pounds. In the rear of the town the
ground rises slightly, and from the ridge the Balkans
and even the Shipka Pass itself can be distinguished
on a clear day.
A beautiful group of islands lies near the Asiatic
coast, a few miles south-east of Constantinople, in the
direction of the Gulf of Ismid. In former times they
were known as the Isles of the Commons, a name
which gave way in succession to the Priests' Islands
and to their present designation, the Isles of the Princes,
for whom they have constantly been available either
as a residence of pleasure or of exile. In other parts
of the world, as for example in Paris, the changes in
street nomenclature are usually in a democratic direc-
tion. The isles are equal in number to the Muses, and
repose upon the breast of a sapphire sea. Oxca and
Platea recall by their names the Steep-holm and the
Flat-holm of the Severn Sea. On Chalki, the little
Copper Isle, are three antithetical institutions — a
Greek Theological College, a Commercial School, and
a Turkish Naval Academy, Principo, the chief of
the cluster, is much frequented during the summer,
and it is said to be renowned for the beauty of the
women. It is a fragrant island covered with fig-trees,
olives, and vineyards, and separated by a narrow channel
C^.v THE Shores of the Bosphorus. 425
from the sunny shore of Anatolia, which is first seen
beneath the mountains of Broussa, and which stretches
along the blue water until it is lost among the ever
present minarets of Stamboul and Scutari.
The Bosphorus or Ox-ford forms with the Dar-
danelles a river which half-way in its course expands
into the Sea of Marmora, and carries the waters of
the Danube, the Dnieper, and the Don into the
Mediterranean. An examination of the form and
position of the Bosphorus on the map shows that it
is a lower reach of the Danube separated from the
higher waters by the interposition of a large lake
called the Black Sea. The pent-up waters of this
lake soon overflowed and forced their way to the
ocean through the gorge which now separates Europe
from Asia. It greatly resembles the short rivers join-
ing the Great Lakes of Canada, and had the Bosphorus
and the Black Sea been discovered, as America was,
at a period when nothing was apparently too large for
the expanded comprehension of man, they would have
been styled a lake and a river respectively. But when
the Mediterranean was the largest area of known water,
the term Sea was not unnaturally applied, not only
to the Euxine Lake but also to the Pool of Marmora ;
for the reason that the size of things is usually measured
by the greatest existing standard. A Greek mariner
would have regarded the Atlantic, which every week
is crossed in seven days or less, as space illimitable.
If the waters of the Bosphorus and the Hellespont
could relate all the events that have happened upon
them and on the • shores, many mysteries of history
would be sohxd. Perhaps the story of Jason and the
Golden Fleece would lose much of its romance, perhaps
the reputation of Hero and the sanit}- of Leandcr would
426 The Modern Odyssey.
be impugned ; but the position of Darius' bridge would
be certified and the organisation of the pontoon train of
the Persian Army, in which one Mandroclcs of Samos
held the position of Commanding Royal Engineers,
would be explained. Those waters carried St. Andrew
on his mission to evangelise Muscovy ; they watched the
building of the new capital of the Roman Empire by
Constantine, which, in spite of himself and in spite of
the Mahomedans, is still called by his name ; when
Godcfroi de Bouillon was encamped upon the hills they
heard the first asking of the Eastern Question which,
seven hundred years after, is yet unanswered ; they
saw Mahomed erecting his towers as the last insult to
the dying Roman Empire ; and now they flow beside
another dying Empire. The Gauls made a settlement
upon the Bosphorus, the Genoese stretched a chain
across its northern entrance, and only the dumb stream
can tell the story of those adventurers. Sultans have
been deprived, imprisoned, and murdered ; harems
have been hurried to and fro between the European
and Asiatic palaces ; obnoxious pashas and unfaithful
wives have retired beneath the surface from the turmoil
and jealousy of the upper air, and the waters alone have
known. Much history has been made and much has
been buried in the Bosphorus. Even at the present
moment it is not certain that a deposed Sultan is not
a prisoner in the palace by the water's edge.
The outlines which we possess of the story of the
Bosphorus in ancient times are extraordinarily dra-
matic. An individual or occasionally a nation appears
for an instant on the brink ; the curtain falls suddenly
upon the scene, and when next it is raised new actors
and a new drama are on the stage. If ever the progress
of science shall render it possible to extract, as from a
phonograph, all the cries and the sounds that have
On the Shores of the Bosphorus. 427
fallen upon the narrow belt of water which sunders
Asia from Europe, the revelations will astonish the
world.
Every furlong of the gorge of the Bosphorus is full
of interest and beauty. The current runs more swiftly
than many rivers, and gratefully prolongs the voyage of
a few hours from Marmora to I'luxine. The triple city is
left behind, but the glitter of the gold on the domes
never vanishes from sight ; old-fashioned Levantine
ships and boats with high sterns and stems, as well as
steamers and sailing ships of every nation, are descend-
ing the stream or are at anchor upon it ; wooded hills
with little valleys nestling between them open on either
side ; long rows of white and yellow houses line the
shores and climb the slopes ; the height is crowned with
a crown of cypresses ; stately palaces and time-worn
castles overhang the stream ; the blue sky rises above
the still bluer stream below as it winds past the pro-
montories and bays of the channel. Each headland
juts out into a corresponding bight on the opposite
shore, and thus the beautiful river-like appearance of
the Bosphorus is maintained throughout ; and as the
direction of the gorge is almost due South, each hour
of the d.iy has its own peculiar effect of light. The
morning sun falls upon the European bank ; at noon
it stands over the water ; then, as the afternoon wanes,
the eastern shore is aglow with his setting rays, l^ach
bank is said to have seven promontories and seven bays.
It is certainly true, but it would not be difficult to find
more or to find less, if necessary, than that mystical
number.
Turkey has not yet learnt from Western ICurope the
art of disfiguring Nature by erecting uncomely edifices.
The Palaces on the Bosphorus are well-proportioned
and built with due regard to their situation, and they
428 The Modern Odyssey.
are therefore a distinct embellishment to the picture.
The terrace of Dolmabatchke is only a few inches above
the water's edge, and the gleaming white frontage of the
Palace a little in the rear rises with excellent effect
above the stream. Further on a smaller Palace stands
between the Bosphorus " and the beautiful Imperial
gardens on the slope of a hill which is clothed in spring
with every hue of green and the colours of all the flower-
ing trees. But the attractiveness of the scene does not
depend upon the Palaces, for although the villages are
roughly built of wood the houses are quaint and pic-
turesque. They may indeed be neither clean nor
comfortable, often scarcely habitable, but their appear-
ance does not irritate the eye, but rather the reverse.
The yellow and brown of the timber and planking and
the red tiles combine with the blue of the sky and the
verdure of the natural growths to make up a very bright
picture. There is a character about the rough archi-
tecture of a Turkish village. It is never plain or do\\dy.
Overhanging gables and projecting stories built a century
ago are no doubt less comfortable and healthy than
prim cottages of brick and slate, but from an ^esthetic
point of view they are more admirable. It is not difficult
to imagine what would have been the appearance of the
Bosphorus had it ever fallen into the possession of
Anglo-Saxons. The Thames and the Hudson prove
that the iMiglish peoples are not fit custodians of a
beautiful river. If the British lunpire had ever included
the Bosphorus, what unsightly factories, warehouses, and
docks wcjiikl now encumber the shores of Koumclia and
Anatolia, and how befouled those blue waters would be !
Nor would the condition of the people have been greatly
improved : there might have been more wealth, but there
certainly would not have been less abject poverty. The
inhabitants of a Turkish village on the Bosphorus have
I
i:,iT---
j^-
i
m
h'
\h^'^\-.'
On the Shores op the Bosphorus. 429
no cause to envy the denizens of a riverside slum in the
capital of the greatest Empire in the world.
Many of the villas and houses of the better class rise
immediately out of the water or are divided from it only
by a narrow road or a garden, and the caiques, like the
gondolas at Venice, can be brought almost to the door-
step, while others have an arch giving boats access to an
inner court. The windows of the harems, from some
of which a flower could be dropped into the stream
below, are closed by lattices and gratings, for the Turk-
holds that not only should woman never be gazed upon
by man, but also that she herself must not be allowed to
behold freely the beauties of Nature.
At about one-third of the distance between Marmora
and the Black Sea stands Roumeli Hissar, the Castle of
Europe, faced on the opposite bank by Anadolou Hissar.
Each was erected by Mahomed the Conqueror shortl)'
before the capture of Constantinople, and it was his
whim — and the whims of Sultans would fill a volume —
that the former should be laid out not according to the
military requirements of a fortress, but so that its outline
should trace upon the slope of the hill the initial letter
of liis name. Three massive towers, on one of which
was mounted a piece of ordnance throwing a ball of
seven hundred pounds, stand at the angles ; and not far
off is the Rock on which Darius stood to watch the
passage of his army.
A few miks above Roumeli Hissar the gorge makes
two bends. The promontories deflect the stream from
side to side, and the continual impinging of the water
upon the banks has formed the delightful bays of
Ku}-ukdcre and Ikikos. The summer residences of the
Ambassadors arc in the little towns of Buyukdere and
Therapia, the "salubrious place." The situation on the
Bosphorus at the foot of the hanging woods is excellent,
430 The Modern Odyssey.
but the Embassies are not an adornment to it. The
German Embassy is an exotic Gothic structure which
does not assimilate with its entourage ; the Erench is
plain but possesses some style ; while the Eiifrlish
Legation resembles nothing so much as a small hotel at
an American summer resort on the coast of Massachusetts
or New Jersey. Each Government provides a yacht
belonging to the national navy for the use and protection
of its representatives, and these vessels, which are usually
moored in the Bay of Buxaikdere during the summer,
are the only ships of war allowed by the Porte to enter
the Bosphorus.
Erom the head of Buyukdere Bay a beautiful valley
runs up towards the Eorest of Belgrade. The road
passes through an avenue of locust trees, and the white
sweet-scented flowers give a bridal aspect to the scene in
May ; pastures and groves lie on either side of the way ;
and a plane tree overhanging it is said to have been
planted by Godefroi de Bouillon. Sultan Mahmoud's
aqueduct, which supplies Pera with water, crosses the
valley, and at the head of the valley at Batchkcui are
the reservoirs for collecting the water, which is retained
by ingeniously constructed horizontal arches of massive
masonry springing from the sides of the ra\ine.
The village of. Belgrade, an exile colony from the
Servian Belgrade, is surrounded by the forest, which is
an English woodland scene embellished with the more
vivid colouring of a warmer climate. Wild flowers and
fruits grow beneath the shade of many varieties of trees,
and here within a few miles of Stamboul is a quiet
retreat where the sunshine falls through a veil of green
leaves, where knolls, shrubberies, and copses offer a
sanctuary from the turmoil, and where no sound is heard
save the bulbul singing in the branches. In the Belgrade
woodland the hand of man is discernible only in its most
On the Shores of the Bosphokus. 431
acceptable form — that is, when it has made a good road
tlirough pleasant glades and shaws. The cloying luxu-
riance and splendour of a tropical forest are absent : the
senses are not bewildered with aromatic odours and
gorgeous colouring, but are charmed with simple, sooth-
ing, rural beauty.
North of Buyukdere the village settlements on the
Bosphorus are more scattered, and many of the inter-
vening spaces are occupied by batteries. The channel
widens slightly at the Black Sea entrance, where the
curious phenomenon is seen of water flowing into in-
stead of issuing from what appears to be the mouth
of a river.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE CRIMEA.
Ie Russia were not a country which has scarcely emerged
from barbarism, but an earthly Paradise which not one
individual in a thousand was worthy of entering, the
permission to visit it could hardly be a matter of greater
favour and privilege. It is impossible even to start on a
voyage to Russia in a Russian ship without official
sanction. The ceremonies of the passport waylay the
traveller at every period of the journey. The Agents in
foreign ports demand it before issuing the ticket, and the
stewards on board the ship take possession of the
precious document as soon as the passenger puts his foot
upon the deck. At the port of destination the local
officers of police condescend to saunter down to the
wharf an hour after the vessel has made fast, to authorise
its return totheowner ; his baggage cannot be examined
at the Custom House without its production, and on his
arrival at the hotel he has again to give security for him-
self by handing it over to the custody of the authorities.
It would be natural to suppose from the obstacles which
are placed in the way of a stranger who desires to enter
the country, as if every chance traveller were a pos-
sible danger to the unstable fabric of the Muscovite
P2mpire, that at all events no difficulties would arise
when he desires to ([uit it. Ikit Russia when she has
once entrapped a traveller is loth to let him depart
Tnii Ci>:jmf.a. 433
lightly. The doers of exit are barred almost as securely
as the doors of entrance, and the ceremonies are per-
formed over again but in reverse order.
The Black Sea occasionally deserves the propitiatory
name of Euxine, or the Hospitable, with which the
superstitious Greeks hoped to deprecate its anger. As
the size of ships increased and as wider and more turbu-
lent seas were explored its looming terrors passed away,
and Horace's Carthaginian sailor who dreaded the Bos-
phorus which gave him access to it would now go on
watch without a qualm. The S)mplegades, or Crushing
Islands, once reputed to have ripped the counter of
Jason's ship, have not disappeared from the chart, but
they have ceased to exercise their peculiar powers of
mischief.
The Black Sea is a salt lake sufficiently extensive
for the larger portion of its area to be out of sight of land.
The voyage from the Bosphorus to Scbastopol occupies
a day and a night in a steamer of moderate speed, and
by leaving Constantinople in the forenoon the Crimean
Hills will be sighted next morning before breakfast. The
steamers of the Russian Company, though not large, are
comfortable. The cabins are airy, and the food, though
served at odd times and in a peculiar manner, is good.
Its leading feature is smoked meats tempered by small
glasses of vodka, a liquor which has the limpid appear-
ance of water without its innocence, and is more palat-
able than bad whisky.
The Crimea when approached from the Bosjjhorus
appears to rise gradually out of the sea in the form of a
wedge, of which the broad end is the black and forbid-
ding cliffs of Balaklava and the edge the lower ground
north of Scbastopol. As the land becomes more di.-^-
tinct a green slope is seen falling away from the heights
towards a shore of sand\" beach and rocky banks only a
C C
434 The Modern Odyssey.
few feet above the level of the water. A lighthouse is
placed upon the extremity of Cape Chersonese, and the
entrance to the harbour is still guarded by the old two-
storied stone forts which are familiar features in all the
pictures of the war. The harbour is a fine sheet of water
running inland for three miles, with hills sloping down on
either side. The southern shore is indented with bays
and inlets, and on the largest of these, a haven a mile in
length, Sebastopol is built, chiefly on the western side in
the angle between the inlet and the outer harbour.
On the eastern side are the barracks, the dockyard,
and railway which now link the Crimea to St. Peters-
burg.
Sebastopol is a dull, clean, unattractive place. The
white houses, all of which seem to have been recently
built, glare in the sunshine and hardly a morsel of colour
is seen. An unkempt public garden such as may be
found at Blackrock or Dalkey has been laid out on the
point, and adorned with a tolerable casino and an ugly
band-stand. It faces a bastion which overlooks the
outer harbour and still shows the scars of 1S56 ; and at
dusk when the two headlands stretch out darkly between
the luminous water and the luminous western sky, and
the massive stone fort stands grimly in the middle dis-
tance, the scenic effect of land, sea, and sky is impres-
sive ; but by day the lack of colouring neutralises the
undoubted beauty of the havens. An Oriental city, with
its varied tints of brown, yellow, and red, its minarets
and domes, would have a superb appearance in such a
situation. In the streets few, if any, distinctive national
costumes are seen, almost the only characteristic dress
being the long cloaks of the drosky drivers and the
officers. The harbour contains half-a-dozen or more
English ships loading with grain, and two curiosities in
naval architecture mtjre fit for a inuscum than for the
The Crimea. 435
sea — the oblong Imperial ysLcht Livadia and the circular
ironclad Popoffka.
So much has happened in Europe during the last
thirty-five years that the interest in the battle-fields
around Scbastopol exists only for Englishmen. The
Crimean War broke the spell of a long peace and
was quickly followed by more important struggles.
The battles of the Alma and Inkerman receded into
the background as Magenta, Sadowa, and Sedan in
turn engaged public attention, and the siege of Scbas-
topol is a small event in the military history of the
world when compared with the siege of Paris. The
Crimean War was moreover a political and not a
popular struggle — it was a war game played by players
whom want of practice had made unskilful, for a stake
which did not involve either combatant very seriously.
No very violent international animosities were evoked
by it, and the issue left no burning feeling of revenge
in the hearts of the defeated. Neither party was
altogether in earnest, and peace was hailed with a sigh
of relief The victors did not add very much to their
renown, and the vanquished could boast that four
European Powers did no more than occupy a {<i\\
square miles of a remote portion of the ICmpire.
The dissolution of the Turkish Emjiire was postponed
for two or three generations ; the French Empire
attained a certain measure of stability and prestige
which did not serve it long ; Sardinia was encouragetl
to assume the hegemony of Itah* ; and the adminis-
trative defects of the British Army were exposed. The
positive results of the Crimean War soon passed awa}- ;
its negative results are a matter for conjecture and
speculation ; and since the retrocession of Bessarabia
to Russia, all evidence of it has disappeared from the
map.
C C 2
43^ 'i^HE Modern Odyssey.
With the exception of the Alma all the Crimean
battle-fields lie within a short distance of Sebastopol
and may be visited in one day. The road to the
Redan and the Malakoff, which lie just outside the
city and overlook it, passes round the head of the
harbour and ascends the steep hill on the further
shore, and leaving the ruined barracks on the left
comes within a few hundred yards of the foot of the
Malakoff The fortunes of a mere name are curiously
illustrated in the latter fort. When the drunken pedlar
Malakoff was expelled from Sebastopol by the police,
he set up a shebeen on the hill which was soon called
by his name. In course of time the hill became an
important position in the defence of the besieged city.
It was eventually carried by the French, and General
Pelissier was ennobled by the Emperor Napoleon with
the title of Due de Malakoff. Thus the name of an
outcast was unconsciously assumed as an honour by
a Marshal of France, and the ostracised pedlar who
was driven out of Sebastopol avenged the slight by
bestowing his obscure patronymic upon the officer who
was the chief instrument in effecting the capture of the
city.^
The Malakoff is a low, flat-topped hill of consider-
able extent, crowned by the ruins of a large fort which
remains to this day almost as it was after the successful
assault ; the plateau, however, has been converted into a
rough garden or plantation. The lower portion of the
old white tower is still standing, and the parapets,
mounds, and ditches, though covered with rank grass,
are substantially unchanged. The zigzags and parallels
of the attack can be plainly traced on the southern
slopes and, like the Roman fortifications in the West of
* Murray p;ives a soniewliat less dramatic and possilily a more accurate
version of the story.
The Crimea. 437
Europe, will no doubt be discernible for many centuries.
A few hundred yards from the Malakoff is the
Mamelon, a rounded hill, as its name implies, of slightly
lower elevation. The intervening space falls gently at
first, but at a little distance a shoulder is formed, and
after another and steeper descent the ground rises again
in a uniform curve to the top of the Mamelon. Small
hillocks, hollows, and half-filled ditches cover the slopes
of both hills and show the position of the trenches. The
sides are scarred also with recent excavations made for
the purpose of recovering the buried shot — a fact which
will puzzle the antiquarian of the future ; who, being
unable to distinguish between the military works and
the operations for gathering in the gleanings of the war,
will no doubt fail to understand rightly the art of forti-
fication as practised in the present century. In front of
the Mamelon the ground sweeps round and forms a vast
amphitheatre, having the Inkerman heights as its western
extremity, and a deep ravine issuing from the head of
the harbour runs up to the plateau above. The blue
sea-line, seldom broken b}- the sail of a ship or the
smoke of a steamer, occupies a large arc of the circle
towards the South and West ; in the foreground is the
war-scarred Malakoff with its dark-green ramparts of
herbage and its ruined tower standing out against the
glittering silver of the sea ; Sebastopol gleams in the
gap between the Redan and the Malakoff; and the old
granite fort is seen standing like a giant sentry at the
mouth of the harbour. To the F^ast the mountains
beyond the Tcherna}a and the Balaklava valle}-s soar
above the green downs of the nearer ridges which
separate those valle\'s from the low shore, and close
at hand are the heights of Inkerman covered with
shrubs and dwarf oaks.
Not far from the Malakoff, but set apart from it by a
438 The Modern Odyssey.
ravine, is the Redan, an earthwork at the shoulder of
one of the ridges which here form a kind of trident
pointed towards Sebastopol. It is now a grassy knoll
abounding in wild flowers ; and a small ditch and a low
mound are all that is left of the famous fort. The
positions of the attacking batteries and trenches are
clearly marked, but while those in front of the Malakoff
approach closely to the ramparts, here there is an open
and tolerably level space more than two hundred yards
in breadth, which the assaulting troops had to cross
under fire before they could reach the fort. A small
obelisk to the memory of the Russian dead stands on
the crest.
The British cemetery is a square walled enclosure on
Cathcart's Hill. It is in fair order. The tombstones
disfigured by the rigours of the Crimean climate have
been neatly but not artistically repaired with cement,
but the \\'ecds and long grass, which are high enough to
conceal the simpler graves of the non-commissioned
officers and men, have been allowed to thrive. Knough
has been done to prevent the sacred spot from becoming
an actual reproach to England, but not enough to show
that the memory of the fallen who died, " far away from
their country in defence of the liberties of luu'ope,"* is
stiil cherished.
The road to Balaklava passes out of the city under
the Redan, and rises gradual!)' to the undulating ground
on which the head-quarters were established during the
' Winter Troubles." After traversing a few miles of
grass country and serving a farm here and there, it
descends by a short ravine to the Balakla^•a \\-illcy and
enters the little village of Kadikoi, from which it folUnvs
tlie ahnost obliterated track of the first railway con-
structed for purely military purposes, and turning south-
* From the epitaj)li l)y Macaulay in the ctmetery at Scutari.
The Crimea. 439
wards round the foot of the hills, approaches the Harbour
of Balaklava, which Ulysses is said to have visited, and
which owes to the Genoese its name of Bella clava. The
village, which is no more than a few houses and a small
Grand Hotel, lies upon the narrow strand of the eastward
shore ; the haven is hemmed in on three sides by barren
hills, and ruined towers connected by walls built many
centuries ago by the Genoese stand upon the slopes. No
vessels now enter the port once crowded with transports,
and at a short distance outside the mouth the entrance
is completely masked by the overlapping headlands.
Red granite cliffs rise sheer out of the clear, tideless
water, and the scene is wild and lonely, the only
indication of the harbour within being a white patch
upon the face of the precipice. The passage is, in fact,
a narrow fissure riven between the beetling heights ; and
it is as difficult to understand how the ships could have
wriggled through the tortuous strait, as it is to realise
that the same loch whose only floatage now is a rowing
boat or two, was once crowded with vessels and alive
with the incidents of a base of operations. All has
passed away without leaving a trace of war except in
the cemetery, which seems far too spacious for the little
hamlet.
The Balaklava Valley widens rapidly as the eastern
mountains recede and leave at their bases a grassy plain,
which near Kadikoi rises gradually towards the north so
as to form a little ridge overlooking a shallow depression
be}-ond. It is a smooth slope without a hillock or even
a rut to break its even surface ; and up this incline the
Heavy Cavalry charged the body of Russian horse
awaiting them on the crest. On the further side of the
ridge is the famous Valley of Death, now a smiling place
of tilth covered with growing corn, clover, and sweet-
smellint: flowers. It stretches for two miles between
440 The Modern Odyssey.
low ridges sloping gently downwards towards the base
of the wild mountains which shut it in on the east. The
higher end is overlooked by the Sapoune heights, whereon
the soldiers of two great nations stood awed spectators
of the tragedy. The valley is an ideal spot for a cavalry
charge; and the even ground falling slightly in the
direction of the attack would add to the impetus of the
squadrons at every stride, and no obstacle intervenes to
break the ranks. The history of that October day can
be readily understood by a cursory survey of the ground.
The Turkish redoubts which had been captured by the
Russians are still plainly marked on the ridge separating
the Valley of Death from the Balaklava Valley, and the
guns in these redoubts were apparently the intended
objective point of the charge. Someone misinterpreted
his orders, and the officer who rode out to correct the
mistake after the fatal advance had been sounded was
killed as he dashed across the front. The gallantry of
the Light Brigade is brought more forcibly home to the
imagination by the aspect of the ground than by all the
poetry that has ever been written upon it. A handful
of horsemen threw themselves like a mountain torrent
into a trough each side of which was held by the enemy,
and charged an army which blocked the lower orifice,
and but for the fortunate presence of the Chasseurs
d'Afrique it is improbable that any would have been
able to make their way back to the mouth of the
trough.
The order was " Charge for the guns," but the guns
were not specified. But a British soldier, unlike the
forces of Nature, is accustomed to move in the direction
of the greatest resistance ; the troopers scornfully dis-
regarded the captured Turkish artillery on the redoubt,
and rode at the massed batteries which were in jjosition
at the foot of the incline. A small obelisk "erected by
The Crimea. 441
the British Army to those who fell in the battle of Bala-
klava," stands on the ridge overlooking the scene of
Scarlett's exploit with the Heavy Brigade and also the
starting point of the Light Cavalry Charge. It is a
curious fact that the leader had formerly served with the
Russian Army in a campaign against the Turks, and it
is said that in the crisis of the fight he was recognised
across the narrow ridge of battle by a Russian officer
who had known him.
All the officers chiefly concerned in the charge are
now dead. Nolan, whose short military career had
begun in the Austrian Cavalry, was killed shortly after
delivering the ambiguous order to charge and while
hurrying, as is supposed, to explain it more clearly.
But if there is any merit in self-devotion and unswerving
obedience the blunder — if blunder there was — need not
be greatly deplored. The moral effect of the brilliant
action upon the enemy was probably worth tenfold the
troopers who were slain. It restored, even to a greater
degree than the battle of the Alma, the confidence of
those who were inclined to believe that forty summers of
peace had destroyed the military spirit of Englishmen,
and it showed that though officers might be deficient in
judgment the men could be confidently trusted to follow
them anywhere.
On the X.W. corner of the Chersonese table-land,
which is reached from the Balaklava valle\' b\' the
Woronzoff road, are the Inkerman heights: so called
from an ancient city of caverns and rudely constructed
and now ruined houses situated on the steep slopes of
two hills which face each other across the narrow valley
of the Tcherna\-a. The Quarry Ravine is a cleft in the
angle which gi\-cs access to the plateau from the fields
bordering the ri\er : and from the wedge of high ground
which commands the ravine the first indications of the
442 The Modern Odyssey.
coming attack were discerned on the eve of the battle.
The staff officer who every evening at sunset was accus-
tomed to ride to the ridge and reconnoitre the valley
below noticed that flocks of sheep were now pasturing
on the alluvial fields of the Tchernaya, and another
officer who had gone to the hill on the further side of the
ravine saw a travelling carriage approaching Inkerman.
These signs were of doubtful interpretation, but in fact
that carriage was bringing two Russian Grand Dukes to
be spectators of the coming battle, which was fought on
the morrow, and which made the 5th of November a
more honourable date than it had been hitherto in the
history of England.
No ground could have been better adapted to the
plan of attack, which the Russians had reason to expect
would result in sweeping the Allies off the Chersonese.
The Inkerman heights are covered for the most part
with bushes and thick scrub, and intersected by ravines
leading down to the harbour and the Tchernaya, while
the rest of the plateau is devoid of trees and un-
broken. The attacking troops therefore might hope
to pass up the glens unobserved, and having obtained
a footing on the wooded heights to use their full ad-
vantage of superiority in numbers on the open ground,
and in a little while to annihilate the enemy by calling
up that other army which was waiting for the summons
at the foot of the Sapounc ridge. The enemy was a
dwindled force of half starved, half-clothed men, many
of whom had never fired a shot even at the targets
at home, who were led by incompetent though brave
officers, yet who withstood from dawn to noon the onset
of an army which outnumbered them fourfold, and
which was at last compelled to scuttle back to Sebas-
topol.
The battle-field of the Alma lies about a score of
The Crimea. 443
miles north of Sebastopol, not far from the mouth of the
little river from which it takes its name. The road
along the southern shore of the harbour is so hilly and
stony that it is better to drive round Inkerman Hill
and descend to the Tchernaya by the Quarry Ravine :
the detour, however, is so circuitous that an hour and a
half is occupied in reaching a point little more than three
miles in a direct line from the town. The marshes
through which the river percolates to the sea are crossed
by a causeway, and the road then rises towards a plateau
through a pretty ravine filled with dwarf oak and haw-
thorn. The topland is covered with scrub, and scarcely
a habitation is seen upon it, but after a few miles the
road enters a pretty village lying on the banks of the
Belbek, and a delightful valley of gardens and orchards.
Between the Belbek and the Alma are plateaus of wide
fields of grass from which the range on the southern
coast of the Crimea is visible on one side, and the sea
on the other in those places where there is an occasional
depression on the nearer western coast. Though one or
two Turkish cemeteries by the roadside speak of the
days when the Crimea belonged to the Ottoman Empire,
there are few places where the aspect of a downland
scene at home is so vividly recalled to an English tra-
veller as it is in the country in which the British Army
last fought on European soil. The villages nestling in
a dip of the downs of Hampshire or Wiltshire are faith-
fully reproduced on the banks of the Belbek, the Katcha,
and the Alma.
After a drive of four or five hours the ridge overlook-
ing the valley of the .Alma is reached. The river is
crossed b}' a ford, and on the opposite side a branch road
runs to the east towards the village of Jkiriiouk, which
stands midway between the ford and the bridge of the
main road to I'^upatoria. Erom Burliouk a good view of
444 The Modern Odyssey.
the Russian position is obtained. On their left were
steep grassy slopes, a precipice, and a hill practically as
inaccessible as the precipice. The road from Sebastopol
passes round the eastern limb of this hill, and halfway
between it and the sea is the little village of Almatamak,
which marks the position of the French centre. Here,
though the river is not broad, the banks arc sufficiently
high to hinder the passage of an army. To the east of
the road, where the British Army was posted, the ground
is more favourable for an advance. The hills recede
from the left bank for half a mile, having a semicircular
plain at their base overlooked by another hill. Here,
facing the British Army, w^as the right of the Russian
position, and it must be admitted that the French were
set to the more difficult task, for the hills on which the
Russian left was resting are steeper and therefore more
defensible, an advantage that was not outweighed
by the fact that the coastal slopes were swept by the
guns of the fleet at anchor at the mouth of the Alma.
The banks of the river along the British front are more-
over but a few feet in height, and offered a very slight
obstacle to the advance, and the stream was entirely
hidden from the Russian batteries by the conformation
of the ground.
It is said that the ladies of Sebastopol were invited
to the Alma by the Russian officers to witness the exter-
mination of the Allies ; but if this is true the parade was
rudely disturbed. The result of the battle was a terrible
surprise to the Russian soldiers, who retreated almost in
panic without attempting to hold either the Katcha or
the Bclbek valley. It is probable that they imagined
that the Allies were at their heels ; but the latter, who
had landed in almost total ignorance of the topography
of the Crimea, conformed to the leisurely strategy of
past years and made no attempt to seize Sebastopol.
The Crimea 445
Apart from its historical interest the Crimea is
worth visiting as the only region in Southern Russia
which is scenically attractive. A rough track diverging
across corn-fields from the main road may be taken for
the return journey, and though it is some miles longer
than the highway the surcharged hour will be pleasantly
spent in the beautiful valley of the Belbek in the midst
of gardens, orchards, and hamlets half hidden in groves :
and after reaching the Tchernaya some time and much
jolting will be saved by leaving the carriage at the head
of Sebastopol harbour and proceeding on foot along the
shore and thence up a wild and stony glen to the railway,
which is apparently used as a public path. From the
Careening Creek the line runs to the city in a tunnel,
constructed for a double track and affording ample room
for foot-passengers.
CHAPTER XXIX.
ACROSS EUROrE.
Until the opening of the Roumeh'an railway Con-
stantinople and Athens were the only European capitals
not in direct communication with the chief Continental
cities — for the silver streaks of the English Channel and
the Sound cannot be regarded as serious obstacles —
and now Athens alone is in that plight.
It was sorely against the will of the Ottoman Pashas
and Beys that the Orient ICxpress was diverted from its
course by the Danube and allowed access to Stamboul
by way of Servia and Roumelia, but they were com-
pelled to yield to the manifest destiny of the age and
to admit the Sleeping Cars which had started from
the Paris terminus of the CJiemin de Fer de V Est into
the enclosure of the Sublime Porte. Before the long-
delayed completion of the through line, the Orient
I'.xpress ran as a solid train only so far as Giurgevo
on the Danube, where the continuity was first broken,
and was again interrupted by the wider gap of a
segment of the Black Sea between Varna and the
Bosphorus. The latter route is not now used, but there
are many travellers who would prefer it, in spite of its
inconveniences, to a long and tedious land journey over
a railway controlled by Turkish officials. It shall be
briefly described as it was within a few months of its
supersession.
Across Europe. 447
The Bosphorus is a ravine in which the lower
currents of air are penned, and these having no lateral
way of escape often blow far more briskly down the
gully than on the open waters of the Black Sea, a few
miles away ; and white crests on the waves opposite
the Golden Horn are not a sure indication that the
Euxine is disturbed : the latter, like the Bay of Bi-cay,
has in fact a reputati )n for turbulence, which it gained
during the Crimean War but which it does not wholly
merit. The passage to Varna occupies half a day. The
course from the mouth of the Bosphorus, where a light-
house standing on the cliff overlooking the Symplegades
and a light-vessel moored off the entrance facilitate the
navigation, is a chord of the Roumclian coastal arc, and
land is only visible at the beginning and end of the
voyage. The Bulgarian seaport of Varna is an inlet
which soon becomes a shallow lagoon ; the town being
built upon the northern shore. It is a quiet place, and
its serenity is neither disturbed by the presence of ships
in the harbour nor by the bustle of commerce in the
streets. A railway connects it with Rustchuk on the
Danube, but the solitary daily train takes more than six
hours to accomplish a di.-^tance of 120 miles. The
country is generally undulating ; a fair amount of timber
is seen in the valleys, but the uplands are bare and wide
tracts are uncultivated. Except in one place where the
rocks on the hill summits form themselves into natural
ramparts and castles, the scenery is unattractive. Groups
of sturdy Bulgarian peasants turn out of their thatched
sheds to watch the train at the stations, the women
dressed in a picturesque costume of brightly embroidered
jacket and skirt, and kerchief over the head. The ne-
cessities rather than the natural tendencies of the young
Principality are shown in the uniforms of the soldiers,
which are of Russian design ; and in the national flag,
44^ The Modern Odyssey.
which is the Russian tricolor slightly modified, the white,
blue, and red being arranged horizontally.
At Rustchuk the train runs down to the terminus on
the banks of the river, where a launch flying the brilliant
crimson, blue, and yellow tricolor of Roumania is waiting
to ferry the passengers across the stream to Smarda on
the northern shore, which is in unbroken communication
by railway with Western Europe. Here the famous
river, which has witnessed so many phases of the Eastern
Question and has so greatly retarded the solution of
that problem, is a wide expanse of muddy water flow-
ing placidly between low banks and carrying the
drainage of half the continent into the Black Sea,
Smarda, a little suburb of Giurgevo, which looks ex-
ceedingly picturesque from the landing with its spires and
white houses rising out of the water against the sky, is the
Eastern terminus of the railway connecting the lower
Danube to the Seine, and sleeping cars and a waggon
restaurant make it possible to travel to Paris through
several kingdoms, one Empire, and one Republic with-
out once setting foot on their soil. From Smarda to
Bucharest, a distance of nearly 8o kilometres, the Orient
Express runs without stopping at a speed greater than
that of many of the best trains of America. The country
though flat is pleasing : woods of dwarf oak interspersed
with green lawns, pastures, and corn-fields neatly tilled
lie on either side of the line, and the landscape wears a
distinctly European aspect. The Mosques and other
Asiatic characteristics of Bulgaria are not seen in
Roumania, though it was long subject to the Ottoman
Empire.
The Roumanian capital will perhaps in the course of
a few generations become a beautiful city; but at present
it is unattractive. The streets are narrow and tortuous,
and the round stones with which they are paved are
Across Europe. 449
unpleasant to travel over ; the jolting is almost in-
tolerable, and the rattle of the traffic deafening. But
if the thoroughfares are bad, the horses are superb,
and the private carriages of London and Paris are not
drawn by finer animals than those which are harnessed
to Victorias plying for hire in Bucharest ; and the drivers,
most of whom are Russian, look extremely well in their
long plain surtouts of velvet with silver buttons and
broad red belt. No English Regiment of Cavalry or
Battery of Horse Artillery is better mounted than the
Cavalry and Artillery of the Roumanian Army. The
capital is apparently a prosperous place, and all the
people in the streets seem to have a sufficiency of food
and to be in easy circumstances. Women are seen
acting cheerfully as hodmen, and even as railway
porters at country stations, and the factory girls return-
ing from work look bright and happy ; yet the em-
ployment of them does not appear to lower the price
of labour unduly, as the city is remarkably free from
beggars.
The line from Bucharest to Pesth does not run by
way of Belgrade, but the journey will not be greatly
prolonged if a detour be made to the Servian capital,
which can be reached in twenty-four hours. A third of
the time is occupied in traversing Wallachia in a brisk
and comfortable Express as far as Turn Scverin, whence
the Danube steamer runs up to Belgrade in about six-
teen hours. Here the ruins of the wonderful bridge
which Trajan threw over the ri\cr remain to bear witness
to the magnitude of the engineering feat accomplished
by the pontiffs of his day ; for no modern engineer has
yet succeeded in spanning the Danube below Xeusatz,
^\■hich is more than 150 miles above the site of the
Roman structure. An hour or so after leaving Turn
Severin, the steamer enters the Iron Gates, where the
D D
45 o The Modern Odyssey.
Danube forces its way through a gap in the Carpathians,
between almost perpendicular cliffs rising to a height of
2,000 feet. On the face of the southern precipice are
other traces of a great and ancient engineering work.
The road which the Romans built to lead up to the
bridge at Turn Severin passed through the defile. In
some places it ran on a narrow ledge, which is still
plainly visible ; in others it was supported on a bracket
projecting from a rock, and the holes which were made
to receive the wooden beams are seen at regular in-
tervals a few feet above the level of flood-water. In its
narrowest part the river is contracted to a width of
200 yards, and the depth is proportionately increased
to nearly thirty fathoms. The current is swift, and
several hours are occupied in the ascent of the gorge.
Above the Iron Gates the Danube forms the boundary
between Hungary and Servia : the country on either
side is low, and the river when expanded by floods often
assumes the appearance of a lake, out of which rise
clumps and rows of trees, the solitary feature of the
watery scene.
Belgrade occupies one of the finest positions in
Europe. It stands on a high bluff facing the confluence
of the Danube and the Save, and their united streams
impinge against the foot of the fortress on the point. In
the rear of the city the ground is undulating and wooded,
while in front the broad plain of Hungary stretches away
to the northern horizon. Belgrade, whatever it may be
politically, is outwardly a quiet and orderly place : the
streets arc all well paved and planted witli a sufficienc}'
of trees, and the houses are of good appearance. The
Turks who in the last generation garrisoned the cit}'
have left few traces behind them, and their place has
been taken by a Servian Army masquerading in Russian
uniforms. The chief point of interest is the Topschida
Across Europe. 451
Palace a few miles outside the town, where the apart-
ments of the national hero, Prince Milosch, are carefully
preserved as they were at his death : even the clothes he
wore and the books he was in the habit of reading being
kept in their accustomed place. The grounds surround-
ing the little palace are now a public garden.
A lattice girder bridge is unsightly at all times, but
when it stretches across a foreground and hides a gleam-
ing city on a hill it is intolerable. Belgrade could
formerly be seen to the best advantage from the banks
of the Save a mile or two above the junction of the latter
with the Danube ; but the railway which now joins Paris
to Constantinople, and which some day may possibly
carry the Indian mails to Salonica, thrust itself rudely
into the picture and obliterated the middle distance.
The line from Belgrade to Pesth traverses the plains of
Sclavonia and Hungary, the granary of Central Europe,
skirting first the right and afterwards the left bank of
the Danube, which, having tunnelled under the fortress
of Peterwardine, it crosses at Neusatz. The shore on
which the sunshine chiefly falls is lined with vineyards,
and every few miles the monotonous level is broken
by a cluster of trees rising above white walls and red
roofs. All the stations bear strange names of the Magyar
tongue which resemble the ciphers of the second column
of the Tivies.
The attraction of every place, no less than that of
every woman, is relative rather than absolute. To a
traveller fresh from the East, Pesth appears to be the
most beautiful city in the world. The streets are wide
and handsome, plaster and stucco are not used as build-
ing materials, and the architecture is good. The roads
are excellently paved and the poor body which has
lately jolted over the boulders of Bucharest and Belgrade
and has been tossed in the ruts of Turkc)- rejoices in
D D 2
452 The Modern Odyssey.
gliding smoothly over the even thoroughfares of the
capital of Hungary. Squares and gardens are numerous
and are used, as in all well-conducted cities, without
offence for purposes of recreation ; and the rough
element keeps itself or is kept out of sight. The lack of
antiquities in Pesth is supplied by the interest which the
city creates for itself as the Magyar metropolis. The Hun-
garians have more in common with the English than with
any other nation ; their character, habits, tone of thought,
and many of their personal traits make an Englishman
feel almost at home while he is among them, and in
Pesth at least, if in few other places, he is esteemed for
the sake of his nationality. The men are genial, cour-
teous, and manly ; and if the renowned beauty of the
Hungarian women is rarely regular or faultless, it is of
that intellectual, poetic, and melancholy type which is
far more enchanting than mere perfection of feature.
They dress well in a somewhat bizarre st}-lc, and they
take such care of their figures that the tenuity of their
waists is, in fact, one of the features which distinguish
Pesth from all other cities.
Buda is finely situated on the right bank of the
Danube immediately facing Pesth. Two hills rise in the
midst of the picturesque town, the old-fashioned houses
of which, with their steep tiled roofs, contrast effectively
with the splendid mansions of the newer city. Two
hills rise in the midst : and on the summit of one stand
the Palace and the Government Buildings, separated
from the lower parts by bastions and ramparts over-
hanging a wooded precipice. Though the Palace has a
superb position, especially when viewed from the qua}-s
of I'esth, and is of handsome elevation, the effect is
spoilt by the colouring of the edifice. The walls arc
painted yellow and the windows, to the number of
several hundred, are protected from the sun by bright
Ac/foss Europe. 453
green shutters. The interior, however, is almost fault-
less. The corridors and stairways are of white stone,
and the saloons are decorated with white and gold and
each of them hung with brocades of a different colour.
The ballroom is one of the finest in the world, and is
splendid even by daylight : the walls are panelled with
pale yellow marble, the floor is a parquet of various
shades of brown, and a thousand lights can be placed in
the golden chandeliers ; and though the mass of gilt is
dazzling it is so skilfully blended with soberer colours
that the effect is not glaring.
Half a mile to the south is the Citadel Hill. One
side is covered with gardens and vineyards and under
the other the old houses of Buda nestle by the water's
edge. A narrow pathway encircles the fortress under
the ramparts and affords the best point from which to
view the sister cities of the Danube. Here the river has
retreated from the plain and leans against the precipice,
and as it flows away to the south divides itself into a
pair of streams, which soon reunite, and fade from sight
on the horizon. In the other direction, above Pesth,
the river has left in the centre of the stream a wooded
island, which is the chief place of popular resort during
the summer.
At Pesth, which is not more than forty hours distant
from London, the centripetal attraction of home is first
apparent, and at the close of a long journey none of the
intervening countries and cities have sufficient local
magnetism to counteract it. \^icnna is spacious and
magnificent, but lacking in repose ; Municli, in spite of
its art galleries, docs not allure — the streets are blocked
with brewers' dra\-s, and the pavements and public
gardens thronged with German officers and male gu\-s
in the persons of scarred German students, and female
guys in the persons of German women who pursue
454 'The Modern Odyssey.
at a distance the retreating forms of vanishing Paris
fashions.
^ ^ * -x- *
The travellers who just a year and a day ago left the
Mersey in an Atlantic steamer of 8,000 tons are returning
to England in a Liverpool excursion steamer which has
been hired to carry the mails between Ostend and Dover.
The vessels built by the Belgian Government proved
unfit for the task imposed upon them, and while new
boats are being constructed on the Clyde the Manx
Queen is employed on the station. It must be acknow-
ledged that the famed white cliffs of Albion look
exceedingly sombre and discoloured in the dull light
of a grey spring morning, and that the town of Dover,
with its rows of lodging-houses jammed in between the
hills, is an unlovely place.
THE END.
Printed dy Cassell iSc Company, Limited, La Lelle Sauvage, London, E.G.
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