BJaBBHHHHiBHiml ViU\ : miwliVvi|!l)?H'^^ liiil iiSfi ii ^lie^/-a^J^tfu ^^^|i^^'>P^: ^SiifSteC^ Yfl iiiuii' f **-* 5\-'. '. ! UWv/MK" Illllills THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESENTED BY PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID iSgSS: H- SHIP AND MADEIRA, LISBON, AND THE MEDITERRANEAN. BY REV. WALTER COLTON, LATE OF THE UNITED STATES NAVY. REVISED FROM THE JOURNAL OP A CRUISE IN THE FRIGATE CONSTELLATION, 1 BY KEV. HENRY T. CHEEVE'B. 1). W. EVANS & CO., 677 BROADWAY. 1860. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year Eighteen Huudivu and Fifty-one, BY A. 6. BARNES & COMPANY, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Ur.ited States for the Southern District of New York. STEREOTYPED BY RICHARD C. VALENTIN*. KBW YORE. iS&t ADVERTISEMENT. IN reproducing " The Ship and Shore" for the author's friends, and the public generally, the Publishers are only doing what it was the intention of Mr. Colton to have done, had his life been spared. In the work of revision, which, by his lamented death, had to be transferred to other hands, the Editor has attempted only such erasures and corrections as he believes the author vvould himself have made. He has also supplied appropriate mottoes to the chapters, chiefly from Mr. Colton's fugitive poetry, and has sometimes condensed two chapters intq one ; and he has not hesitated to introduce such illustrative matter, from other manuscripts of the author lodged in his hands, as seemed to him likely to enhance the value of the present work. Having gone over a part of the same ground which this book traverses, and at a later date than its writer, the Editor has been able to correct a few unimportant mistakes, as well as numerous typographical errors which crept into the first issue. It was in this work that Mr. Colton made his first assay as an author without a name. The favor with which it was received, was a prophecy of the success of his after works, for it procured him an honorable fame, both as a poet of promise and a spirited writer of lively prose. It is upon this ascertained judgment of the public, and upon the interest felt in the author by reason of his late successful career in California, both as author and judge, and his recent death, just as he had returned to enjoy his emolu- ments and honors, that the publishers have ventured to under- take his writings in due order. The present volume will be followed by another, under the same editorial supervision, to be called " Land and Lee in the Bosphorus and ^Egean." The whole series will consist of five volumes, of uniform size with " Deck and Port," and " Three Years in California," already issusd. M317517 rpisr. PREFACE. IN defiance of a profound maxim of my distant relative I say distant, because he was so far removed fmm me on the genealogical tree that even a Yankee peddler in the remote part of the South would not, upon the force of such a relationship, put up his horse and himself for more than six weeks, and that must place him on a very extreme twig, perhaps even its shadow. By the way it is a little singu- lar that these fellows of the wooden nutmeg should always know where to find a market for their nuts and notions. But as I was saying in defiance of a profound maxim of my distant relative what a world of tender thoughts and emotions spring up in that one word relative ! what beings step from the magic of its circle : uncles not a few, aunts without number, and cousins a whole ship -load all taking a warm interest in you if rich, a pride in you if learned or politically great, and never deserting you unless you become poor blessings on their sweet hearts ! Without them what would a man be, or rather, what would the world be to- him ? A garden without a flower, a grove without a bird, an evening sky without one lovely star. His feelings would break over his desolate heart, like a sunless ocean 8 PREFACE. surging over a dead world. But as I was saying in defi- ance of a profound maxim of my distant relative, the author of that word author ! it never had such a fearful mean- ing to me before. It may be my imagination, but it seems like a garment lined with sharp hatchel-teeth to be wrapped around my naked form. It so agitates my whole system, that my poor bedstead gets into such a shake every night, as to take quite all the next day for it to become tranquil, and even then the tester trembles like an aspen leaf, or a pigeon, in a thunder-storm. To see others become authors to see them tried, condemned, and executed, is compara- tively nothing ; but to be put to the bar yourself to hear your own sentence to see the noose tied for your own neck, and to know that among the thousands who are gathering to witness your swinging fidgets, not one heart will throb with pity ; it is this which so agitates and confounds me ! But as I was saying in defiance of a profound maxim of my distant relative, the author of Lacon that is a book which only the wise will read, and only the profound can comprehend, it is an intellectual mine, where every thought is a diamond of the keenest edge, and most brilliant ray, and where giants may work with their pickaxes and still leave it unexplored ; and yet he who created this mine had nothing about him in keeping with it no consistency in morals or money. He was the most singular of men dining on a herring, and keeping the most splendid coach in London wearing a hat soiled and rent with years, and trowsers that PREFACE. betrayed at the bottoms of their legs the gnawing despair of some famishing rat, and carrying at the same time in the top of his snuff-box a diamond that was itself an indepen- dent fortune, preaching a part of the year to his English parishioners, and gambling out the rest in the French me- tropolis. But as I was saying in defiance of a profound maxim of my distant relative, the author of Lacon who, I am sorry to say, committed suicide committed it too, after having penned against the act an aphorism that might well have fallen from the lips of an angel ; an aphorism num- bered in his manuscripts C C C, which express not only its numerical relation, but the initials of his own name, as if he had unknowingly addressed it to himself. If there be not something more than mere coincidence in this, then there is no truth in my grandmother's manual on auguries. And yet he committed the act ; but such is ever the in- consistency of one who has broken the balance-wheel in his moral nature. He is like a ship that has lost her helm with which the winds for a time disport, then dash it on the rocks ! But as I was saying in defiance of a profound maxim of my distant relative, the author of Lacon, which says there ! I have forgotten now what it says this is a hard case for I was just making port all ready to let go anchor and I am now out at sea again in a fog : this dirty, thick weather always comes on as you near a coast it has been the cause of more shipwrecks than all the tempests put together. Most people think the nearer the 1* 10 PREFACE. shore the safer the ship : directly the reverse a whale is never stranded at sea, nor is a ship unless an island comes bobbing up out of the water like Venus a debut which I think was in extremely bad taste. But the fog begins to break away and now, as I was saying, in defiance of a profound maxim of my distant relative, the author of Lacon, which says, "a writer who cannot throw fire into his works ought to throw his works into the fire " I publish this book rather, I allow it to escape. Go, little book, I will not burn thee, Wander at will the country o'er, And tell to all who do not spurn thee, Thy simple tale of Ship and Shore. AUTHOR. CHAPTER I. m* The Light-HousePleasures and Pains of MemoryUn- accountable Presentiment Loss of Companions Ship Discipline Ladies on board a Man-of-War Ward- Room Officers and Midshipmen Traits of a Sailor The Setting Sun Tribute to Woman Funeral at Sea Welcome to a lost Bird 17 CHAPTER II. First Sight of Land Peak of Pico Terceira City of An- gra Visit to the Shore Appearance of the Inhabit- ants Cathedral Vespers Convent Nuns Gardens Singular Monument Shaving the Hog A Gale and Wreck.. . 34 CHAPTER III. Madeira First Appearance Glories of Sunset Ride into the Interior Ponies and Burroqueros Deep Ravines Peasantry A Madeiran Beauty An English Lady Dinner and Dancing 46 12 CONTENTS. CHAPTER IV. Ftp Madeira continued Excursion Villa of an English Bache- lor Tragical Death of George Canning Wild Ravine Singular Waterfall Lady of the Mount Supersti- tionThe Dying Mother's Request Star of Bethle- hem Visit to the Convent of Santa Clara Introduc- tion to a beautiful Nun Her involuntary Confinement Personal Attractions Mental Accomplishments Proposed scheme of Escape 57 CHAPTER V. A singular Marriage Cathedral Clergy Weighing a Prot- estant The proscribed Fidalgo Camancha Villa Its Lady The Ribeiro A sleeping Sentinel Force of human Sympathy Mystery of Sleep Joy of Morning Matins of Maria Ride to the Curral Stupendous Scenery Quiet Hamlet Force of Habit Saint's Day Homage of Gunpowder Recollections of Home Twilight The Vesper-Bell 74 CHAPTER VI. Sketches of Madeira Physical Features Wines Climate City of Funchal Priests Society Morals Peas- unt ry Merchants Political Opinions Habits of the Ladies Courtships Our Parting and Farewell 92 CONTENTS. 13 CHAPTER VII. PM Passage from Madeira to Lisbon Sea-sickness as a Purga- torial state Situation of a Member of Congress and Officer of the Navy compared Rock of Lisbon Pilot Tagus Cheering Rockets Don Miguel City of Lisbon Cabriolets Postillion Madam Julia's Hotel A partisan Merchant Alcantra Aqueduct Church of St. Roque Mosaics Queen Maria First Church of St. Domingo Statue of King Joseph The Earth- quake Inquisition 104 CHAPTER VIII. Excursion to Cintra Scenery Marialva Villa Peter's Prison Penha Convent Royal Palace Visit to Mafra Castle Its Extent Richness Singular Origin Re- turn to Lisbon Its Streets and Dogs Don Miguel Habits of the Females Friars and Monks Perils of Night-walking Impositions on Strangers A Blind Musician Political Disasters 1 27 CHAPTER IX. Passage from Lisbon to Gibraltar Diversions of the Sailor His Tact at Telling Stories Love of the Song Fondness for Dancing Unhappy Propensities Duty of the Government towards him Gibraltar A befitting Emblem of British power Romance of its History 14: CONTENTS. Fortifications Troops Motley Population Summit of the Rock St. Michael's Cave The Five Hundred Monboddo's Originals Pleasure Party Music and a Mermaid .", .152 CHAPTER X. Malaga Coming to Anchor Cathedral Tomb of Moh'ana Fiddles and Organs in Churches Castle of^ the Moors Hours of a Malaguena Traits of a singular Bandit A Spanish Lady Twilight and the Prome- nade A Funeral . . 172 CHAPTER XI. Passage from Malaga to Mahon Tedious Calms Reliev- ing Incidents Vist of a Bird Capture of an ominous Shark Intrusions of a Ghost Unfair taking off of a Black Cat Petted Hedge-hog Morgan's Spectre at Niagara Mahon Harbor Fort St. Philip Admiral Byng Lazaretto Navy- Yard Habits of the Mahon- ees Effects of a certain vice on Man Grand Organ Sailors on Shore Jack and the Opera Entertain- ments 187 CHAPTER XIL Passage from Mahon to Naples Life at Sea Chest of a Sailor Power of a Poet Track of the Ship Naples from the Harbor Unreasonable Quarantine Grievous CONTENTS. 15 rt Disappointment Premature Departure Ebullition of Spleen Passage from Naples to Messina Volcano of Stromboli Dead Calms Utility of Whales Pastimes in Calms Faro di Medina Charybdis and Scylla Ancient Whirlpool Curiosities of the Sea Messina from the Strait 214 CHAPTER XIII. Excursion to Mount Etna Sleeping in a Corn-field Incidents of the Ascent Storm at Night View from the Summit Descent Catania Gayety of the Living above the Dead Museum of the Prince of Biscari Franciscan Monk Passage from Messina to Milo Murat and Ney Tides of the Strait Island of Candia Island of Cerigo Aspect of Milo Historic Inci- dents Greek Pilot Medicinal Springs Natural Grot- toes Ancient Tombs 235 CHAPTER XIV. Town of Milo Steepness of the Streets Advice to Dis- tillersStatue of Venus View from the Town Greek Wedding Dress and Person of the Bride Fickleness of Fashions in Dress Anecdote of Franklin Passage from Milo to Smyrna Cape Colonna Temple of Minerva Profession of Pirates Island of Ipsara Aspect of Scio Massacre of the Inhabitants Conduct of the Allies Gulf of Smyrna Ancient Clazomenae Traits of the Sailor 253 16 CONTENTS. "CHAPTER XV. tag* Smyrna Its Seamen Motley Population The Tartar Jan- izary Modern Warfare Encounters in threading the Streets Fruit Marked Bazars Greek Girls Turkish Burial-Ground The Child unacquainted with Death Smyrna continued Religious Sects Visit to Gov- ernor His Palace Pipes Horses Troops Coffee- House Scene Prayers of the Mussulmen Martyrdom of Polycarp Birth-place of Homer Parting with the Reader . , . 283 SHIP AND SHORE. CHAPTER I. . A SAILOR ever loves to be in motion, Roaming about, he scarce knows where or why ; He looks upon the dim and shadowy ocean As home abhors the land ; and e'en the sky, Boundless and beautiful, has naught to please, Except some clouds, which promise him a breeze. THE LIGHT-HOUSE PLEASURES AND PAINS OF MEMORY UNACCOUNTABLE PRESENTIMENT LOSS OF COMPANIONS SHIP DISCIPLINE LADIES ON BOARD A MAN-OF-WAR WARD-ROOM OFFICERS AND MIDSHIPMEN TRAITS OF A SAILOR THE SETTING SUN TRIBUTE TO WOMAN FU- NERAL AT SEA WELCOME TO A LOST BIRD. * IT is now seven days since we weighed anchor in Hampton Roads, and took our parting leave of the land. The last object that vanished from my stead- fast eye, was the old Light-house on Cape Henry. I watched that as it sunk slowly in the horizon, and felt, when it was gone, as one that has parted with a venerable, attached friend. Never before did a light- house appear to me an object of such beauty, fidelity, and affectionate regard. It seemed as if it had come forth from the thousand objects of the heart's yearn- ing remembrances, to take its position on that prom- 18 SHIP AND SHORE. ontory, where it might look its last farewell, and express its kindest wishes. During the seven days that we have been at sea, I have lived but in the past. The segment of life's poor circle through which I have gone has sprung again from its grave of memory, bringing with it each incident of pleasure and sorrow, each object of pur- suing hope and lingering endearment. How mys- terious is the spirit of memory how painfully true to the objects of its trust how quick and vital over the relics of joys that have fled, friendships that have ceased, errors that have been wept ! How intensely it concentrates into a point, years of wisdom or weak- ness, pleasure or pain pouring through the soul, in an unbroken current, the mingled sensations that have blessed or blighted its previous existence ! The ocean is its empire. I should not envy a guilty man his repose, who should here seek an escape from the deserts and the haunting remembrance of his crimes. Every wave in this vast solitude would speak to him as from eternity, and every dark cloud would bear in its folds a message of wildest thunder. If there be a cavern in hell, where anguish is without alleviation, it must be that whe^e a guilty spirit suffers in solitude. I am not a believer in supernatural intimations, yet the presentiment that I am never to retrace my steps, that I shall never see again the cherished beings that encircle the hearth of my home, clings to my heart UNACCOUNTABLE PRESENTIMENT. 19 with a dark and desperate pertinacity. You may smile at this, if you will, and expose its want of phi- losophy, but it is proof against all argument and ridicule. It is not the effect of fear, for this is not the first time that I have been at sea, and my confidence in the power and capacity of a ship to triumph over the conflicting elements, has increased with every day's experience. Nor is it from any apprehensions connected with those diseases which frequently scourge the places which we are to visit ; for I have been in those putrid ports and cities, where one of the most familiar sights is the black hearse rumbling on its dismal errand. Nor is it to be traced to any fearful inferences from an extreme feebleness of constitution ; for this very debility is frequently the best shield against malignant disease. The sturdy oak breaks before the tempest, but the pliant sapling yields, and when the storm has passed over erects itself. Nor is this gloomy presentiment ascribable to that melan- choly mood of mind which darkly predicts ills that are never to be experienced, nor to that morbid sentimentality which affects sorrows that are never felt. It is rather an undefined, involuntary, and inex- plicable conviction which reason did not induce, and which reason cannot force away. Dr. Johnson be- lieved in ghosts, and would not cross his threshold left foot first ; and no arguments, however profound and ingenious, could have convinced that sagacious SHIP AND SHORE. reasoner that he was unphilosophical or superstitious. The hare is not timid that trembles where the lion shakes. Had any one told me a few years since that I was to become a sailor, that I should at this time be on board a Man-of-war, bound to the Mediterranean, I should have regarded the prediction with incredulous amazement. But " How little do we know, that which we are : How less, what we may be !" Time and the force of circumstances work changes upon us of which we little dream. The very habits which fitted me for the contemplative quietude of the closet, by undermining my health, have driven me into an opposite extreme ; for there is no situation where every element is more stirring and restless, than on board an armed ship. It would seem as if the principles of a perpetual motion had found a favorite lodgment in every particle of which this vast floating fabric is composed. There is not a spar, or plank, or rope, that does not appear to have caught this spirit of uneasiness ; much more the jovial tar, whose home is on the mountain wave, who loves the quick breeze and the rapid sea, and who regards a life free from these excitements, as a state of listless- ness and inactivity unbecoming a breathing man. I am not quite a stranger to the peculiarities of my present condition. A former cruise in another quarter has familiarized me in some measure to the LOSS OF COMPACTIONS. 21 strange habitudes of nautical life. Alas ! I can never think of that cruise without grief. We left there three of our dearest companions, who will return no more ! They were in the spring-time of life, full of hope, enterprise, and lofty resolutions, but they have gone down to the silence and dreamless sleep of the grave. Their generous purposes and goodly promise have all perished in the bud. How often has the mother, in the depth of her anguish, doubted the melancholy tale ; and how has the little sister, unac- quainted with death, still expected her brother's re- turn ! Spring shall return with its buds of promise, summer with its purpling fruits, autumn with its golden harvest, but these come not again ; there is no returning pathway through the grave. The journal which I have now commenced, and which I intend to continue during the cruise, shall be confined mainly to my first and freshest impressions. I will cast into it the bright, the mournful, the deep or transient feelings, which the different incidents or objects encountered may awaken. There is only one subject upon which I shall reserve myself, and that is the government, the discipline of the ship. The moral and political mechanism of a floating commu- nity like this is too peculiar, too intricate and com- plicated for hasty opinion, and I shall therefore wait the results of the fullest experience. Few situations involve a more perplexing respon- sibility or require a higher combination of rare tal- 22 gHIP AND SHOEE. ent, than that of a commander of a national ship. To be popular, and at the same time efficient, he must be able to enforce a most strict and rigid discipline, without giving to it that cast of unfeeling severity, to which the despotical nature of a ship's government is extremely liable. He must be open and undisguised, and express even his sentiments of disapprobation with a freedom and frankness, which may lead the subordinate officer to the instantaneous conviction that there are no suppressed feelings of bitterness, which may, in an unexpected hour, reveal their nour- ished and terrific strength. This plain and honest dealing is infinitely preferable to a heartless hypoc- risy of manner ; it relieves all around from those dis- quieting suspicions which duplicity never fails to ex- cite ; and where it is united with a generous disposi- tion, a well-informed mind, and a dignified demeanor, cannot fail to secure affection and respect. As my opinions may perchance, hereafter, be quoted as law on questions affecting the interests and etiquette of the service, there is another subject on which I must be for the present discreetly re- served. This involves the expediency and propriety of permitting us to take out our ladies on board our public ships. It will appear, as I am aware, ungal- lant to hesitate over an immediate and unqualified approbation of this license ; but as my decision is to strike through all future usage in the service, and as its condemnatory features might be ascribed to the PLEA FOR THE LADIES. . 23 fact of my not having any one to take out, were the privilege granted, I shall withhold it till events may place it beyond the reach of such a cynical construc- tion. t Yet, could any one disposed to arraign this meas- ure, have seen the quantity of letters that went back by the return boat of the pilot, and above all, could he have glanced into the contents of those epistles, and marked the tears and passionate fervors that mingled there, like rain and lightning in a summer's cloud, he would have exclaimed, in relenting tender- ness, let the cherished beings of their bosom go with them ! Separate not, by a wide ocean, hearts so in- tensely united beings so entirely formed for one hearth and home ! Even Jack sent back the evi- dence of his truth : his scarcely legible scrawl may have given a fresh and bleeding life to affections, not the less deep on account of a simple, rude exterior. The vigor of the bow depends not on the beauty of its polish. There is another subject upon which I must be a little reserved ; this touches the character of my im- mediate companions, the officers of the ward-room. "We present, perhaps, in our -assembled capacity, as great a variety of intellectual, moral, and social habit, as any group of the same size, ever yet convened on flood or field. There is no shape, which thought, feeling, or association ever assumed, that may not here find a ready, unbroken mold. We have every 24 SHIP AND SHORE. thing from the silent operations of a mind that ex- presses its action only in its priceless gifts, to the tu- multuous agonies of an imagination that raises a tor- nado to rock a rose-bud, and rolls the globe over to crush a flea. We have the officer who walks the deck as if he were to be heard in whispers and obeyed in silence, and the one that gives his slightest order in a trumpet voice that might almost endanger the sleep of the dead. We have the ever cheerful and contented being, who would talk encouragingly on a famishing wreck, and the inveterate complainer, who would grumble amid the mellow profusions of a paradise. We have the man of method, who sleeps, dreams, and wakes by rule, and the unsystematized being who would lose, were it possible, his conscious identity ; and who will probably be found at the great resurrection coming out of the grave of some other person. We have a caterer who would purchase an ox for the sake of a sirloin, and a steward who would pur- chase an egg, were it possible, without the expense of the shell. We have a sailing-master who is seldom wrong when he conjectures, and as rarely right when he calculates ; we have a commissary who would shoulder an Atlas of real responsibility, and protest against an ant-hill of petty inconvenience. We have a surgeon who would kneel in worship of the beauty, harmony, and matchless grace of the human form, and then dissect a Cytherean Venus to trace the path CHARACTER TAINTING. 25 of an imaginary muscle. We have a marine officer full of professional pride and ability, but whose troops have never been paralleled since Jack FalstafF mustered his men. We have a Chaplain who vehe- mently urges us on like an invading army towards heaven, but stays behind himself, as he says, to pick up the stragglers ; and we have over all a Command- er who inspires the humblest with self-respect, but reinstates the absolute principles of the old school on the levelling doctrines of the new. Our incongruities do not stop here. We have in our steerage light-hearted lads, unacquainted with a single rope in the ship, jiever perhaps from home, certainly never at sea before, and who are now giving orders to old weather-beaten mariners, who have ploughed every ocean known to the globe. I pen this not in disparagement of these inexperienced youth ; for they have a quick play of intelligence and a freedom from vicious habit, that justly entitles them to esteem and affection. May they be able to pre- serve the " whiteness of the soul " untouched by the evils that await them, and revisit their sacred homes still worthy of a mother's fondness and a father's pride. The tendency of early lessons of wisdom and piety, with the incipient habits of childhood, may at times be diverted and driven from their course, but they generally recover again their original channels. If there be any security in after years against a wide 2 26 SHIP AND SHORE. departure from virtue, it is found in the early instruc- tions of an anxious, devoted mother. The course of the arrow is decided by the bow she holds in her hands. Our ship is a frigate of the second class, of light, compact, and graceful architecture ; she cuts her way through the water as smoothly and silently as the dolphin. Our crew are more youthful, more full ot health and vigor, than are usually met with on the deck of a man-of-war. They are remarkably young, as years are reckoned on land, but the Iif6 of a sailoi usually stops far short of that period commonly allot- ted to man. His occupation and habits shake his life-glass and hurry out its sands. I never see one oi them die without those feelings we experience in see- ing a noble being extinguished before his time. He has points of character that penetrate to your deepest sensibilities. You see him dividing His last shilling with a pcnnyless stranger, perilling his life for one who may perhaps never appreciate the self- sacrificing act, living to-day in gay forgetfulness oi the evils which the morrow must bring, undergoing hardship, privation, and suffering with an un clouded cheerfulness, and when death comes, resign ing him- self to its calamity with a composure that belongs more to philosophy and religion, than the character- istics of his rude life. If any being full of errors, generous impulses, and broken resolves, may hope i'..r inercy in his last account, it must be the poor sailor. THE SPLENDORS OF SUNSET. 27 the man wliom temptation and suffering have vis- ited in every form, whose scanty enjoyments have been snatched from the severest lot, and whose wild profession has placed him essentially beyond the reach of those redeeming influences, to which every Christian community is indebted for its virtue and its hope of heaven. I have been on deck at the close of every clear day to see the sun go down. This is a beautiful sight on shore, but more so at sea ; for here the glowing orb appears divested of that excessive brightness, which on land frequently dazzles and pains the naked eye of the beholder. He seems to partake of that solem- nity which is felt through nature at his disappear- ance. The clouds which attended him through the day in glittering attire, now assume a more sober as- pect,-and put on a dress of deeper richness ; their full and flowing folds have a groundwork of purple and gold, and as they float together, they rear over this retiring Monarch of the sky a pavilion, compared with the magnificence of which, the splendors of the Ori- ental couch are but the tinsel which gilds the cradled sleep of the nursery. When the last ray that lingered above the wave has vanished, and twilight is gone, the deep blue vault of heaven seems to sweep down to the level waters, and shut out all life, and breath, and motion, beyond its incumbent circle. It is then you feel alone earth, with its ceaseless stir and countless SHIP AND SHORE. voices, is shut out, there .is nothing around, be- neath, above, but the silent sky and the sleeping Ocean. A man who can stand in such a breathless solitude as this, and not think with warm veneration of HIM, whose benevolent eye notices the fall of the lonely sparrow, must carry within him a heart as cold and insensible as the marbles of the dead. This observation was made to one who stood near me, and whose fine susceptibilities were more deeply touched than my own. To her this twilight change, and desert ocean, seemed to call up memories in which the heart lingers with a bewildering fondness. She has exchanged the security of the shore, and the society of the most gentle and refined, for the perils and hard features of a man-of-war. Her feelings, as they break through her conversation, betray a fresh- ness and elevation of tone that find their way to your affection and esteem. Cultivated and refined, with- out being supercilious, cheerful and communicative, without being obtrusive or trifling, with mental en- dowments to entertain the best informed, and a de- meanor conciliating the most rude, she must be de- servedly popular in her new condition, and cannot fail to enhance the estimation in which the fair of our country are held by foreigners. As soft as falls the silken shade, Let every sorrow be Which grief, or care, or hope delayed, May ever cost on thee. FUNKKAL AT SEA. And sweetly glide thine hours away As music from the string Of woodland lyre, while o'er it stray The fragrant airs of spring. And let each joy be pure and bright As dew on infant flowers, Some tender theme of new delight To cheer thy pensive hours. And as a soft melodious lay Dies on the still of even, May thy rapt spirit pass away And mingle into heaven. Death is a fearful thing, come in what form it may fearful when the vital cords are so gradually relaxed, that life passes away softly as music from the slumbering harp-string fearful when in his own quiet chamber, the departing one is summoned by those who sweetly follow him with their prayers, when the assiduities of friendship and affection can go no further, and who discourse of heaven and future blessedness, till the closing ear can no longer catch the tones of the long familiar voice, and who, lingering near, still feel for the hushed pulse, and then trace in the placid slumber, which pervades each feature, a quiet emblem of the spirit's serene repose. What then must this dread event be to one, who meets it comparatively alone, far away from the hearth of his home, upon a troubled sea, between 30 SHIP AND SHORE. the narrow decks of a restless ship, and at that dread hour of night, when even the sympathies of the world seem suspended ! Such has been the end of many who traverse the ocean, and such was the hurried end of him, whose remains we have just consigned to a watery grave. He was a sailor, but beneath his rude exterior he carried a heart touched with refinement, pride, and greatness. There was something a~bout him which spoke of better days and a higher destiny. By what errors or misfortunes he was reduced to his humble condition, was a secret which he would reveal to none. Silent, reserved, and thoughtful, he stood a stranger among his free companions, and never was his voice heard in the laughter or the jest. He has undoubtedly left behind many who will long look for his return, and bitterly weep when they are told they shall see his face no more. As the remains of poor Prettier were brought up on deck, wound in that hammock which through many a stormy night had swung to the wind, one could not but observe the big tear that stole uncon- sciously down the rough cheek of his hardy com- panions. When the funeral service was read to that most affecting passage "we commit this body to ri:.\iv OF PICO. 35 near me, " tliat bit of a dark spot there, bobbing up like a buoy out of water there, now it's gone, but keep it in your eye, and you'll see it again in a minute, just under the stern of that scudding cloud." S; I fixed my eye on the cloud, which the fancy of the old seaman had converted into a well-rigged ship, which had just obtruded its dusky sides between us and that dark spot against the sky, but I was still uncertain at what precise point upon the hull to look, not being able to distinguish the stern from the stem in this aerial craft. " There, there, sir, it comes again," whispered the sharp-eyed tar. " At which end of the cloud ?" I inquired, impatiently. " At her stern, sir, at her stern, close under her spanker boom," was the technical reply, which betrayed a much better knowledge of nautical phrases, than of an intelligible relationship between an obscuring cloud, and a sharp, elevated point of land. This " dark spot" on the sky, of a towering sugar- loaf shape, and distinguishable in this respect only, from the thick and motionless mass of clouds which lay beneath it, proved to be the Peak of Pico, rising abruptly some seven thousand feet above the level of the sea, and which may be seen in clear weather at a distance of eighty miles. We were so near it, that two hours' sail brought into beautiful relief, upon the sides of its green acclivities, the white cottages of its inhabitants. I longed to leap upon its shore, and mount its steep cliffs, but we were sailing for Ter- 36 snip ASD SUCRE. ceira. Adieu then to Pico, to its vine-clad hills, and its volcanic peak, beneath which the rainbow and thunder-cloud dwell in strange concord. A fair and fresh breeze soon brought us in sight of the bold and lofty rocks which wall the circular shores of Terceira furnishing its quiet inhabitants a defence, which may excuse in them their want of that chivalrous valor which exposure and danger in- spire. Beneath the steep battlements which nature has reared along the breaker-beaten coast of this island, a thousand hostile fleets might exhaust their malice in vain ; the iron storm of their batteries would make as little impression as the bubbles of a muttering wave. Upon the south side, this natural wall bends inward, affording a small harbor, of deep bottom and unsafe anchorage. At the foot of a mountain, which here freshly descends to the bright water, stands the neat city of Angra, the capital of the island. "\Vc swung around into this inlet and let go our anchor, to the pleasurable surprise of many, who from their turrets and balconies were scanning our ilai:, and recognizing in it a long-absent friend. The blue and white banner, which floated from a small armed ship, and the two fortifications which defend the harbor, told us that Donna Maria was the infant j of this romantic isle. The necessities of an impatient dinner over, we hastened to the shore, where we met ur quasi Consul, CAPITAL CITY OF ANGRA. 37 who politely offered us his attentions in any form that might be most agreeable. As ivo had but a few hours to stay, we declined the hospitalities of his hearth, preferring a ramble through the principal streets, and a hasty look at the strange aspect every thing wore. Under his guidance we passed from street to street, meeting everywhere new-fledged soldiers and little groups of citizens, who had been brought together by the sudden appearance of our ship. The bells were chiming for vespers, and w r e turned into the Cathedral a building of huge dimensions, in the Gothic style. We found about forty priests, or friars, and as many boys, who had the gift of music in them, sustaining the chant and occasionally break- ing out with great animation in the chorus. When I inquired of our polite guide for the audience the worshipping multitude that might here be accom- modated he pointed to one poor publican kneeling in the centre of the vast area, and observed, the people here do not attend vesperc. What a worship, I was about to exclaim, is this ! whether paid to God, or saint, or sinner. Why, the little brook, as it murmurs its vesper hymn in the ear of nature, has at least a lonely pilgrim or bird on its brink, to listen to its harmony, and catch the spirit ot its homage. But here is a magnificent temple with its sweeping aisles, perfumed *\tne3. white-robed priests, and melodious rWr. al"; Consecrated to tho 38 SHIP AND SHORE. worship of the Most High and the sacred edification of man and only one poor penitent, of the thousands whose sins or gratitude should bring them here, is seen to come and kneel. Surely there must be " rot- tenness in Denmark." Breaking from this partial reverie, I joined our company at the extreme end of the aisle, where our guide was leading the way to some recess, or shrine, with an air of peculiar awe it was the sanctum sanctorum of the place, and we paused upon its hal- lowed threshold. Three large wax candles were burning within, and before these a venerable priest was walking, as one that meditates alone. The solitary prelate instantly invited us in, and seemed to excuse our not crossing ourselves to the sacred pic- tures which hung upon the walls. This consecrated cloister was distinguished for the sober richness of its furniture, its silent solemnity, and the multiplicity of images, which cast upon us from every quarter their looks of penitence and celestial hope. Around the embroidered curtain, which inclosed the Host, bloomed several vases of fresh flowers. The priest from one of them, as we retired, plucked ;i rich carnation and gave it to Mrs. Read with the most graceful inclination that I ever saw in a man of his years. There was something in the manner of his presenting this beautiful flower, which made one for the moment forget that we can ever ^n\v old. The rose was a delicate compliment, and will be cherished GLANCES AT THE CONVENT. 39 by her to whom it was given, long after the perfume has passed from its withered -leaf, and long after the thin pale hand which tendered it shall have forgotten its kindly office. From the Cathedral we wandered into a street, leading past a favorite convent, beneath the high walls of which, scarcely a blade of grass was seen to shoot. On inquiring the cause of the sterile and trodden aspect of the ground, we were informed that the young men of the city were in the habit of fre- quenting that place, hoping to catch an answering glance, or word, from the truant nuns within. The windows had balconies, in which were placed various pots of flowers, the care of which afforded the veiled inmates a pretext for visiting the light ; but while hovering over their cherished plants, their eyes it seems are wont to meet those of some romantic Romeo below, and then a devoted word goes up, and another, with some sweet flower, comes down ; and now and then, the gentle Juliet comes down herself not to descend into a tomb, but to make a heart happy, that has turned away from the gay saloon to the pensive convent. I like these romantic touches in human life ; they are green spots in a desert. I know not what His Holiness the Pope or the Lady Abbess might say to such a charmed elopement of one of their nuns, but sure I am that if I am ever concerned in what is coarsely termed a run-away match, the object of my 40 SHIP AND SHORE. pious plunder shall be some brilliant being, suffering an involuntary confinement in one of these living graves. Nor am I without an encouraging example : a captain in the British navy recently ran away with one from a convent in Teneriffe, and found in her all " Which Eve has left her daughters since her fall." The next object that arrested our steps was an extensive and neatly arranged garden, connected with an herb-growing monastery, and which, as our conductor informed us, was rather a flattering speci- men of the horticulture of the island. In the midst of plats, upon whose varied bosom the rose and geranium were intertwined, appeared most of the tropical fruits and plants in vigorous growth. To one who has been many days at sea, living on hard bread and salt meat, the slightest vegetable, even a head of lettuce, appears a tempting luxury ; but an inaccessible orange or banana is like the stream which mocked the parched lips of poor Tantalus. But we left this ample garden, so full of vegetable life, with all its budding sweets untouched and untasted ; not a flower was plucked, or a leaf disturbed in its green quietude. Though sorely tempted, we kept this once the eighth commandment. After strolling through several more of the streets, we found ourselves in a public square, upon rather a confined scale, in the centre of which stood a some what singular monument. It was constructed of a BUILDINGS AND STREETS. 41 species of calcareous stone, of dark line* and compact texture, and ^consisted of an elevated quadrangular pedestal, upon which rose a cylindrical column, bear- ing a capital with a device, w r hich no one could trace to any definite order of architecture, or particular school of sculpture. The whole betrayed the wasting effects of time, though the outline had been pre- served quite entire. One of our company, having a great fondness for antiquities, immediately commenced transcribing a half obliterated inscription upon its base ; others des- canted on the beauty and harmony of its proportions ; the rest of us wandered back in thought, through the depth of centuries, to the virtues of those whose achievements were here rendered immortal. Our conductor, who had been detained by some company we had met on the way, now joined us ; and ob- serving the rapt air in which each stood, and the antiquary with his busy pencil, remarked that the time-worn object of our contemplative wonder was a pilloi^y ! Romance, a love of the marvelous, self-complacency, all died within us, as we blushingly turned away from this only monument which we met with in Angra. Our mortified vanity, however, was soon exhilaratingly revived, by a glass of native wine, and a cup of excellent coffee, at the house of our Consul. The streets of Angra, though narrow, are uncom- 42 SHIP AXD SHORE. monly clean for a Portuguese city. The houses are generally of two stories, and have many of them balconies, screened by vines and trellis-work, which, without excluding the air, afford a green protection to the black-eyed beauty as she catches a glimpse of the moving crowd below. The apparel of the poorer classes is clean, but it is obvious that the needle has In many cases been put in extensive requisition to repair the rents of time. The costume of the better- conditioned circles, though not glaringly gaudy, is rather showy than rich. There is very little about the place indicative of wealth or earnest enterprise. It must have paused for many years in the march of improvement. This is owing to the unsettled state of its political relations, its frequent revolutions, the rapacity and poverty of its successive masters. Even the bells of some of the churches have been taken down and coined. There are men, who, if they could get there, would pick out and peddle the gems which glow in the pavements of ML The wines of this island are inferior to those of the Canaries, and the birds less musical; but the lands an abundantly productive of grain, pasturage, and fruits. Little attention, however, is paid to flocks and herds, unless the treatment which the hog ivTO THE INTERIOR PONIES AND BURROQUEROS DEEP RAVINES PEASANTRY A MADEIRAN BEAUTY AN ENGLISH LADY DINNER AND DANCING. As the white clouds, which hung this morning like a widely distended veil over our weather-bow, were occasionally ruffled by the breeze, we caught mo- mentary glimpses of the lofty and varied outline of the heights of Madeira. Here a steep cliff presented its wild features, there the green side of some hill smiled forth, while upon gentler elevations appeared the white dwellings of the inhabitants, in beautiful contrast with the deep verdure in which they were embowered. Upon the beach foamed the successive wave, or cast its white crest high up the jutting rock. The whole appeared the work of enchantment a mere illusion sent to please and mock the senses ; and ; npression was almost confirmed, as the spread- ing folds of the floating clouds again snatched every vestige of the entire scene from our fixed eyes. ISLE OF MADEIRA. 47 Had death come upon me at that moment, I should have departed with a full belief in the mystery and power, which fancy or superstition has ascribed to those fairy agents, who dwell in subtle essence, and work their marvels upon the palpitating experience of man. But a springing breeze unveiled again the hidden object of our curiosity, and brought us at length so near it, that it appeared before us in all its unri vailed wildness and beauty. Could I see but one island, in its progressive development from the ob- scurity of cloud, and sky, and wave it should be Madeira. There is no isle, even under the glittering skies of the West Indies, that has such an enchanting effect as this ; none that seems so completely a thing of light, laughter, and beauty. / As we floated into its open roadstead, we passed an English frigate lying at anchor, which saluted us with a " Hail Columbia ;" a compliment which our band returned with a badly played " God save the King." Our anchor was now let go, our sails clewed down, and a boat lowered for the shore. I remained on board, to witness the effect of the setting sun upon the scene before us. Twilight here is of short dura- tion, but atones for its brevity by its richness. The city of Funchal, before which we were riding at anchor, stands against a green amphitheatre of hills, which rapidly ascend to an elevation of three thousand feet. These steeps are crowned with pin- nacles, which shoot up wild and high, and which are 4:8 SHIP AND SHORE. burning with living splendor, after the advancing twilight has cast its purple shadows over the hushed dwellings beneath. The contrast of these flaming turrets, with the dim and dark aspect of that which slumbers in sunless depths below, produces an effect which can never be described, and w r hich would only be feebly mimicked, by setting the towering bastions of some hugely-walled city in flames, while silence and night reigned through its untrodden streets. How triumphant is nature, both in her magnificent and minor forms, over the proud pretensions of man ! The cliff which sunset kindles, and the violet which the dew-drop gilds, alike baffle his art and mock his vanity. In the morning we took a boat for the shore, for the purpose of riding into the interior of the island. "We were met at the landing by Mr. Perrigal, our Yice-Consul, who had politely provided Mrs. Read with a palankeen, in which she was carried by two broad-shouldered men to the Consular mansion. As for the rest of us, the question was not, how we should obtain the means of conveyance, but how we should manage to mount one saddle, instead of two or three ; for we were surrounded by thirty or forty Burroque- ros, leading their donkies into our very faces, and vociferating "This one, this one, this one!" with an earnestness and impatience which rendered all choice impossible. Indeed we were glad to jump upon any thing to escape from such a snarl of animals, and importunate drivers. TOXIES AND BUREOQUEROS. 49 In a moment we were mounted, and rushing through the city, with a Burroquero holding on with one hand to the tail of his pony, and with the other belaboring his limbs with a long stiff wand. We brought up at the door of the Consul, where we halted for a few minutes, till Mrs. Read could mount her pony, and then started off, full gallop, for the inte- rior. The clatter of hoofs which we left behind, brought to the window many an eye, whose look came too late. Echo and wonder only remained, with dust, 'distance, and laughter. John Gilpin's race with all its involuntary speed was gravity, com- pared with our ludicrous appearance : it was enough to shake the powder from the wig of a Chief- Justice. I found myself bestriding a pony about as large as one of farmer Darby's black sheep, but as sure of foot as any fox that ever jumped ; yet in the gallop, his fore and hind quarters went up in such quick alternations, that the most rapid vibrations of the body were necessary to preserve the even balance, and keep one from falling over the stem or stern of this tossing craft. I thought, after all, the animal was more to be pitied than his rider ; and when we had been on the tilt about two hours, and were come to the foot of another long and steep ascent, I dis- mounted, to the no small amusement of the driver, who, it would seem, much better understood the ability of the little hardy fellow, than myself. At the top of this arduous ascent, we found our- 3 50 SHIP AND SHORE. selves suddenly recoiling from the crumbling verge of a ravine, that dropped down in nearly a perpen- dicular descent two thousand feet. As we discovered no road leading away from this perilous position, except that by which we had come, we concluded, of course, that this was the ne plus ultra of our ride. But crack went the huge sticks of the drivers against our donkeys, and away they sprang up an extremely narrow ledge of rocks, that beetled out over this frightful abyss. There was no stopping them, for a concussion of the animals against each other would have precipi- tated the whole of us to the bottom. Go on we must, but whether for good or ill, for gratification or broken bones, we could not tell. Nothing but the instinct of our steeds saved us ; they balanced along with well- poised frame, when their riders would have lost their footing, and with a spinning brain would have reeled toppling down. Another hour of this hair-breadth riding brought us to the Curral the main object of our adventure. This is a little fertile valley sunk into the heart of the island, surrounded by a wall of natural rock rising to a height of twenty-five hundred feet. Upon the verge of this wall we now stood ; but every object below was buried beneath masses of cloud : nothing could be seen ; nothing heard, except the tones of a church-bell, as they struggled up through this heavy sea of vapor. The wild cliffs and pinnacles, which VALLEY OF TIIE CURRAL. 51 still towered far above us, shone conspicuously in the light, and their sunny aspect served to deepen the gloom which rested upon the unpierced depths below. There was light, and beauty, and resplendent gran- deur above ; but below, brooded a night, upon which the quick rays of the sun fell at once quenched and powerless. After partaking of a very welcome lunch, and some excellent wine, which Mr. Perrigal had hospitably provided for the occasion, we started on our seturn, fully determined, if we should get back without any serious accident, to make another excursion to this inland wonder. I never left a place with greater reluctance, or a deeper conviction of the power of man's curiosity. On our return, we frequently overtook, as we had encountered in coming out, many of the peasantry, bearing their burdens of fuel to market. This essen tial article consists here, principally of the fern, and the roots of the broom. It is borne from the interior upon the head ; we met women with large bundles of it in this position. This indeed is the only mode in which it can be transported. The paths in many places are notched into the steep face of a mountain, and are so extremely narrow, as to afford a passage for little more than the person of the individual. The burden is therefore done up like a sheaf, and placed on the head in a line with .the path. "With one hand, the patient bearer steadies her load, and with the 52 SHIP AND SHORE. other, by the help of a pointed cane, she steadies her- self. When two encounter each other with their loads, one of the parties looks out for a jutting cliff, or a deeper nitch, where she stands till the other has passed. It was only in this mode that we were able to get along with our ponies. In this form the city of Funchal is mainly supplied with fuel. Fortunately the climate is habitually so very mild, that little is required, except for culinary purposes. I never had such a feeling of sinking sadness, as when I saw these females with these enormous bun- dles on their heads. There was something in their condition so strangely at variance with the delicacy and tenderness which are usually the pride and priv- ilege of their sex : when I observed, too, the unmur- muring patience and cheerful resolution with which they perform the incredible task, I could have stopped and wept. Had I possessed a key to the mines of Peru, I could have cast it at their feet. They carry these wearisome loads, from many miles in the inte- rior, through the most rough and perilous passes, to the city, where they are obliged to part with them for a few farthings, and then start at night-fall, faint, and perhaps unattended, for their cabin in the moun- tains. The self-adapting disposition of woman, the uncom- plaining trust with which she submits to reverses of fortune, and the hope and cheerfulness with which she strives to inspire others, while her own heart may THE DINNER AND DANCE. 53 be desolate, are high and affecting attributes which belong only to her. She is essentially the same in the cottage and palace, at the couch of pain and the hall of festivity, in all that constitutes her highest excel- lence and man's chief happiness. But I am wandering from the thread not of my discourse, but of our return from the Curral. We arrived at the Consul's quite late in the afternoon, and sat down to a sumptuously furnished table, where we met several agreeable ladies and gentlemen of the island. The dinner passed off with many good feel- ings, and amiable sentiments lit up with many kin- dling recollections of home. I saw, neither on this O / occasion, nor on any other while in the island, ex- cessive drinking, even of the pure and harmless juice of the grape. There was no ardent spirits of any kind upon the table, nor any lurking upon the sideboard, to tempt the lips of the unwary guest. When the table broke up, we found in the ample mansion every facility for disposing of ourselves, as our different tastes and dispositions suggested. Some took the cigar, and talked of politics ; some amused themselves in the garden, among its fruits and flow- ers ; and others, like myself, took a siesta that dreamy quietude in which weariness forgets its ex- haustion, and the spirits rally for fresh action. I al- ways had a great respect for sleep, and a deep love of dreams. The first is the most innocent occupation 54 SHIP AND SHORE. in which we engage ; the last, the most sweet and beautiful. The evening presented us with a brilliant circle of ladies. The most striking feature in a Madeiran beauty is her eyes : these are usually full, black, and floating ; and shaded with a long, silken lash, from beneath which the kindling ray flies with an electric- al effect. You would hardly think that an eye, which verges so close upon the melancholy in its general ex- pression, and around which a living languor seems to sleep, could contain such vivifying power. The out- line of her face, perhaps, approaches the circle too closely for depth of sentiment, but for an exhibition of cheerfulness, it could hardly be improved. The contour of her person has also too much ful- ness to appear in perfect consonance with the most pliant and airy motion ; but this is gently relieved by a foot that needs no compression to give her carriage a light and airy cast. Her complexion is a shade darker than the brunettes of our clime, yet equally transparent : her locks are long, and black as the ra- ven's wing; and when she speaks, it is not simply witli her lips, her whole countenance is lighted up and eloquent. Among the English ladies, there was a Miss E s, whose winning sweetness of conversation and demeanor came upon one like a soft, mysterious charm. It was merely nature speaking and acting without affectation and without disguise. There was AN ENGLISH LADY. 55 no effort, no ambition, and not the slightest indication that she was even aware of the interest she inspired. Indeed, there was a delicacy and half-retiring diffi- dence about her, that would have shrunk from an idea of the attraction which encircled her. The pre- tensions of dress and the show of studied airs utterly faded under her manner. Her thoughts and lan- guage seemed to come forth unwrought and sponta- neous from their pure fount, yet they beamed with beauty and native intelligence. I never met with but one lady before, in whom nature appeared so un- mingled and sweetly triumphant. That lady was Mrs. G., of W , whom I shall never cease to remember, till all that is amiable and excellent in woman has ceased to affect me. The evening passed off in music, scattered conver- sation, and dancing. As for the jfirst, I was a de- lighted listener ; the more so, because there was one voice breathing most melodiously there, that had come with us over the wide water ; and as for the last I was a mere looker on, though in no surly, cen- sorious mind. I never could see much sense or pleas- ure in grown people bowing, wriggling, and skipping about the floor to the sound of a fiddle-string. It may perhaps become that age, when w*- a; c \ Kitty "pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw/ ^ut leave it, I pray, to the dear little girls an-* boys, on the Green, such as I made a ballad for in my young days. 56 SHIP AND SHORE. While ambling round a cottage green, I met a little child, The merriest object in the scene Where she was playing \vild. No bonnet screened her from the sun, Her neck was white and bare Except around it loosely hung The ringlets of her hair. There was a gladness in her air, A laughter in her eye ; Her little hands went here and there As she was racing by. Whither so fast, my little one? She made me no reply But chattering to herself ran on To catch the butterfly. The fluttering beauty soon she caught, But then it was so bland, So fine and delicately wrought, Tt perished in her hand. So giddy youth for pleasures run, And think they shall be blest, But find them, after all is done, To perish when possessed. THE TIL VILLA. 57 CHAPTER IV. Bur now methinks 'tis time to change this theme, To say a word of matters and of men, For neither of them are just what they seem, And never were what they will be again ; But both are changing in the wax or wane, Like floating fire along a field of grain. MADERIA CONTINUED EXCURSION VILLA OF AN ENGLISH BACHELOR TRAGICAL DEATH OF GEORGE CANNING WILD RAVINE SINGULAR WATERFALL LADY OF THE MOUNT SUPERSTITION THE DYING MO- THER'S REQUEST STAR OF BETHLEHEM VISIT TO THE CONVENT OF SANTA CLARA INTRODUCTION TO A BEAUTIFUL NUN HER INVOLUNTARY CONFINEMENT PERSONAL ATTRACTIONS MENTAL ACCOMPLISHMENTS PROPOSED SCHEME OF ESCAPE. THE cloudless heights of Madeira promising this morning a fine day to those who might be disposed to make an excursion among their wild scenes, we started, full of glee, at a very early hour. The ponies which we had taken from the multitude that were clamorously urged upon us, were in high spirits, and we started at a speed that would have left the quick- est footman in our country panting and puffing in the distance. Not so with the mountain boy of this isle ; for quick or slow, he is ever singing, whistling, and cracking his whip, close at the heel of his animal. The first place at which we alighted, and to which 3* 58 SHIP AND SHORE. we had been politely favored with an unceremonious invitation, was the Til Yilla. This is the residence of an English gentleman, situated at a small distance from the city, upon the sunny side of one of those hills which slope up so gradually as to be capable of cultivation, especially when thrown off into parapets, as in the present instance. This villa is quite in the Italian style ; the grounds are laid off with a strict regard to beauty and effect ; and though the rigid utilitarian would find but little here to applaud, yet the lover of flowers, of the green sha'de, and the sparkling stir of waters, might easily be in a rapture. In the centre of the garden towers a majestic Til, one of the indigenous evergreen forest-trees of the island, ingens arbos^ faciemque similima lauro. This tree has given name to the place, though its right so to do might well be questioned by a venerable chestnut standing near, and measuring, with its neighbor, over thirty feet in circumference. This villa derives a melancholy interest as having been the scene of the tragical death of George Can- ning, a captain in the British Navy, and eldest son of the late distinguished Premier of that name. He had come to this villa with a party of gentlemen to dine, had been playing at racket, and being some- what exhausted, had thrown himself, for a moment's repose, upon the sofa, on which I am now sitting to sketch this note. But being heated, he soon left the apartment, and went, unperceived by any one, to GEORGE CANNING. 59 the pool, a place convenient in many respects for bathing. When the table was announced, the host looked around for the guest, in honor of whom the enter- tainment was intended, but he was not in his place. Inquiry was raised, a search commenced, when, com- ing to the pool, they discovered the pale form but the noble spirit of Canning had fled forever ! Tears and lamentations, and the kindly efforts of affectionate grief, were unavailing. The hall of fes- tivity was wrapt in sorrow, and many a heart that came there gay, retired to weep. As died the la- mented father, so perished here, still more suddenly, the beloved son. Their remains may molder in the untimely grave, but their virtues are stamped with immortality. The Til Villa begins to wear the aspect of neglect and decay. Its proprietor is one of those men who tread life's circle alone. This may do perhaps through half the round, while the heart can look abroad, but then the other half becomes a listless solitude. The very objects in which the solitary once delighted, and in which, through his more salient years, he placed his pride and trust, will in age lose their attraction, and disgust him with their frivolous memories. There is but one object that can perpetually interest and charm the hearty but one that can fill the native void in its affections, but one that can render nature beautiful and lovely ; for Eden itself was but 60 SHIP AND SHORE. a wild, And man, the hermit, sighed, till woman smiled." All this is, perhaps, as much as I can consistently say, committing myself the mistake which I depre- cate in others. But I cannot pen here a deeper truth, than that an individual vitally consults his happiness, honor, and wealth, by an early union with one, wlio may perhaps bring to him no dower, except her gentle virtues and affections. But I forget our ponies, and the distant waterfall, to which we were bound. From the Til we wound up the steep hills, which tower in quick and long succession above each 'other; but before we had reached the object of our curiosity, a part of our company were so well satisfied with a scene we had met, that like a wise man looking out for a wife, they would go no further. The object which arrested them was a section of the ravine, which, in its progress to the ocean, inter- sects the eastern end of Funchal ; and which, from the projecting height where they were standing, ap- peared to divide the very foundation of the island. In its lowest depths sparkled a current, which any miser would have taken for a stream of silver. The imagination of a believer in a central sphere might have taken this mysterious chasm as the authorized medium of communication with his inner world ; and Jjis fancy would have converted the streamlet, which A UNIQUE WATER-FALL. 61 wanders through it, into the narrow and glittering outline of its concealed ocean. Leaving our charmed companions to wonder and speculate at will, Lieut. L. and myself proceeded for the "Waterfall. After ascending several difficult ele- vations, we arrived at the foot of one, from the top of which, our native guide informed us, the Fall might be seen. But how to get there, was now the ques- tion ; for the ascent was entirely too steep for our ponies, and seemed likely to prove too much for our strength. But the force of curiosity and the pride of conquest urging us on, we dismounted, and when an upright posture became impracticable, resorted to our hands and knees ; and by catching to this stone and that shrub, we at last drew ourselves up to the top. The cascade instantly burst on our view, a mag- nificent sight being a large sheet of water, falling unbroken three hundred and fifty feet. From the position which we occupied, it appeared to burst from the solid side of the mountain ; there was no warning of its coming no " note of prepara- tion" nothing that led you to expect the splendid exhibition. It rushed upon you at once, unnotified and unprepared ; and when you saw it plunge down its terrific way, to the then concealed gulf, it was as if that were the all of its magnificent existence. It appeared a miracle in nature a river without a source a fall without an admonitory rapid. The rushing wave of Niagara prepares you for the plung- 62 SHIP AND SHORE. ing thunder of its might. It speaks to shore and cliff, and echoes the footsteps of its coining in the caverned rock. You expect its wild leap, and wait with awe the crushing force of its gigantic strength ; but this mysterious wonder in the fall of waters dashes down, without having awakened an idea of its ex- istence. It deigns to exhibit only its splendid flight, its wings are spread and furled unseen. Before our return we renewed one of the recrea- tions of boyhood, but upon rather an enlarged scale. "We disengaged, successively a number of rocks, weighing several tons, and saw them sweep their resistless course to the bottom of the ravine. When they reached their shaking bourne, they sent up a crash of echoing thunder, that lingered long in sullen reverberation among the hills. We hove off the very mass upon which we had been incautiously standing : it was dashed into a thousand fragments upon a projecting ledge, while each went indiscoverably be- neath, in muttering wrath. I thought of the erring spirits, smitten from heaven's verge to Tartarean night. Bidding the waterfall adieu, we returned to our companions, whom we found lingering around the very spot where we had left them. Nature never tires ; in the magnificent or the minute, the severe or subdued, she is an exhaustless source of interest. Our descent, which we commenced after partaking of an excellent lunch, and a short repose, brought us into the neighborhood of the Mount Church, to which OFK LADY OF THE MOUNT. 63 we paid at least the respect of curiosity. This edifice is one of the first objects which attract the eye in approaching the harbor. It is situated half-way up the mountain which ascends in the rear of the city, and commands an elevation of two thousand feet. It is surrounded by a fresh chestnut grove, in which you mount to it by sixty granite steps. The style of the building is modern, and not destitute of architectural pretension. As we approached the altar, the priest, who was directing our attention to the points of strongest in- terest, and who had hitherto evinced an air of utmost ease and playfulness, seemed suddenly impressed with.. a strange reverence. I shall never forget the incom- municable solemnity which pervaded his counte- nance, as he slowly drew aside the rich curtain that hung over the altar-piece, and breathed, in a whisper Nossa Senhora do Monte. The object of his deep devotion was a little image of Our Lady ; wilich resembled in every respect a child's doll, only its ornaments and attire were more expensive than are ordinarily thrown away upon a toy. A string of beads, in imitation of jewels, went round its filleted head, and a number of tinsel stars bespangled its little petticoat. I could hardly pre- serve my gravity of countenance, while looking at this Nossa Senhora do Monte. Yet it seems she is an object of peculiar veneration and homage here ; on her festival day, half the population of the island 64: SHIP AND SHORE. go in solemn procession to kneel at her feet. Those who would be classed among the most devout, or who may have committed some sin of deeper dye, in their earnestness to secure her compassionate grace, mount the sixty stone steps, which lead to her sanctu ary, upon their naked knees. The following circumstance, which came to me from a source too credible to admit of doubt, strikingly exhibits the spirit in which this our sainted Lady ot the mount is regarded. A mother, being about to depart this life, summoned her daughter to her bed- side, and told her that in her younger years she had committed one unconfessed and unatoned-for offence, and that she could not leave the world in peace and with a consolatory hope of heaven, till she had given her a solemn promise that in expiation of this sin, she would on the birth-day of her eighteenth year, at twelve o'clock at night, climb the steps of this church upon the bare knee. The pledge was given, and in a few months from this time will be redeemed with tlio most religious punctuality. I subsequently met the young lady who is to perform this painful penance, and might perhaps have quoted to her the first Com- mandment, had there been any probability of her justly appreciating its awful sanctions. Far be it from me, however, wantonly to disturb the performance of a vow, given even in a spirit oi religious delusion or to trifle with a pledge, which may have served to console the dying. "When that STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 65 fearful hour shall become a reality with mo, God only knows the anxieties it may awaken, or what infinite need this trembling spirit may be in of the smallest my, to relieve its gathering doubts and sorrows. Yet I would not descend to the grave under the light of a false trust under the guidance of a star that is to vanish away in perpetual night. But there is one star, that will never disappoint the hope which it awakens ; its ray is never dimmed, and it knows no going down ; its cheering light streams on through ages of change and tempest. The earth may be darkened, the foundations of nature broken up, and the planets shaken from their spheres, but this sweet star will still smile from its high and holy dwelling. No wonder the Poet of truth and piety determined to celebrate First in night's diadem, The Star, the Star of Bethlehem. I must now introduce the reader to an individual who has been for several years an object of deep ad- miration and sympathy among visitors at Madeira. This person is Donna Maria Clementina, a nun in the Convent of Santa Clara. She was immured in this prison at the early age of ten, by the wicked cruelty of a step-mother ; her tears and prayers were of no avail. Thirteen long years have now passed away, and she still gazes on the dull wall of the con- vent, and sighs for the light and free air of heaven. Her situation has been partially relieved by the inter- 66 SHIP AXD SHORE. est which her youth and beauty have awakened. The companions of her early years have never forgot- ten her, and now, when inquired of for the most beautiful lady of the island, they will take you to this convent, and call to its impassable grate the blushing Maria. Another circumstance has cast a momentary smile into the solitude of this sweet creature. "When the constitutional government was established in Portu- gal, an order was issued by the Cortes that the doors of all religious houses should be unbarred. The con- sequence was*, that Santa Clara was freely visited by those who had affection or curiosity to be gratified in that form. Among others who availed themselves of this privilege, was a young and accomplished officer in the Portuguese navy. He saw Maria, and felt at once, as every one must, the charm of her beauty. She returned his affection, with a gentleness and sin- cerity, which showed the delicacy and truth of her heart. She was now free from the authority of a cruel parent, and of the coerced obligations of the veil ; and she engaged to receive the hand of the gallant officer, whose heart she had so unintentionally won. The wedding day was appointed, and she left the (;>n vent to mingle with her friends a short time, be- fore her happy union. But during this interval she was taken seriously ill, the excitement of society came with a too sudden power upon one of her BUS- THE BEAUTIFUL NUN. 67 ceptible nature, the wedding day was deferred fa- tally deferred ! for, before its arrival, the Constitu- tional Parliament was forcibly dissolved, the libera- ting act of the Cortes revoked, and Maria remanded buck, in tears and despair, to her solitary cell. He in whom she had wound up her gentle affec- tions, and who had fondly identified her with the hopes and happiness of his coming years, was now debarred all access to her presence. Yet would he ascend a rock which towered near the convent, and wave his white handkerchief, and joyfully catch the answering token of hers, as it gleamed from the grate of her high window ; and in the still night, he might often be seen on that cliff making the expressive sig- nal, and by the light of the full clear moon, exult- ingly discovering, at the shadowy grate, the replying evidence of an affection that could outwatch the morning star. He was soon ordered by his government upon a foreign station, w r here he fell an early victim to the diseases of the climate ; and there is now no evidence of his having been here, except what lives in the melancholy remembrance of poor Maria ; and there seems to be nothing in sympathy with her, in her dis- appointment and grief, but the moaning of the wave, as it dies on the broken shore. Such is an outline of her history, to whom Mrs. R., Dr. M., and myself were introduced this morning, by the amiable Miss S. E., of Madeira. Upon ringing 68 SHIP AND SHORE. , the outer bell of the convent, we were conducted to a well-furnished parlor in the second loft, communica- ting with the more secluded interior, hy a double grate. The lady Abbess was called, permission to speak with Maria solicited, and the name of Miss E. sent in, as an attraction that never fails to bring her forth. Maria had no toilet to make, no curls to arrange, and she was soon seen approaching the grate, with that easy and subdued air, which refinement and grief only can mold. Her eye kindled instantly as it met that of her friend, and though our unexpected presence seemed at first slightly to disconcert her, yet it was only a momentary embarrassment, which bespake the retiring delicacy of her nature. We were all immediately at ease, and she was speaking to each, in a tone so cheerful and animated, that we quite forgot the sorrows which had so early overshad- owed her life. I stepped silently to a position where I could study, with less exposure, the sweet being before us. Her veil was drawn aside, and she was telling Mrs. R. of the glimmering hope which still lingered in her solitude. I have met before with many a face justly regarded as lovely, but never with one of such serene ssive beauty. This indescribable charm was con lined to no particular feature, it dwelt like a w long do you think before he will reach here?" he continued to whisper. We observed, " The wind is now very fresh and fair, and for matter of that, he may be here in a few days." "And have you come to aid Miguel?" he inquired earnestly. "No, that is no part of our business here." He grasped us by tin- li;innir wand, with which he exhibits his muscular ]>< \\ vr, and brachial dexterity, in knocking over these poor Trays. His aim is sure, and his blow certain death. I saw him in the course of a few minutes AN OFFENSIVE CUSTOM. 141 knock several of them entirely out of existence, and that too which made the case rather a hard one while they were picking the filth out of their mon- arch's path. But the dogs are now becoming extremely shy of their king, and are manifesting their sagacity by a timely escape from the reach of his wand. They detect at a distance the rapid sound of his charger's hoof, and instantly take to flight, after the true old maxim let those escape who can, and the devil take the hindermost. It is not safe for one who respects his olfactories, or his apparel, to be in the streets of Lisbon after ten at night. The goddess of Cloacina begins to reign at that hour, and her offerings are cast down indis- criminately from every upper window. -Her altars, which in every other city are under ground, are here the open pavement ; and woe to the luckless wight who happens to be passing at the time of oblations : he will think of any thing but the sweet scents of Araby and the pure waters of Helicon. How the ungentle worship of this goddess should be thus fashionably tolerated, is inconceivable ; it is enough to drive all romance and knight-errantry out of a city ! I wonder not that poetry has ceased here that the harp is unstrung and the minstrel gone. How Love should linger under the embarrassments and perils of such a dodging existence, is a mystery. 142 SHIP ATTD SHORE. But this little fellow of the purple wing and laugh ing eye is somehow the last to leave any community. He manages to remain, whatever may betide, else he would have long since taken his departure from Lisbon, and left its daughters to their desolate hearts, their silent tears, and worse their broken guitars ! Political disasters and jealousies here have nearly broken up those little intimacies, which used to pre- vail in families of the same rank, and upon which depend the social enjoyments of every community. Ladies are now seldom seen in any considerable numbers, except at worship ; and here they meet at all hours of the day. You may pass from church to church, and find in the nave of each, large groups of well-dressed females. The most young and fashion- able .assume a position in advance of the others ; coming in, they first kneel, cross themselves, move their lips for a few minutes, and then assume a sit- ting posture on the clean marble pavement, with their small feet drawn up under them, something after the. Turkish fashion. They sit here by the half day together ; and when there is no public service going on, which is usually the case, they amuse themselves in whispering over to each other those little things of which ladies are prone to be fond. To the young gentlemen, who are probably attracted here more by the worshippers than the worshipped, they never speak, except with their eyes ; but these organs with them have a Ian- FRIARS AND ArOli^b. 143 guage more true to the instincts of the heart, than any dialect of the lip. These whispering and glancing assemblages are more excusable here, than they would be in our country. Ladies with us may meet when and where they please, and almost whom they please ; but here these social indulgences are not known ; and it is a very natural consequence that the ladies should avail themselves of the facilities which the church and balcony afford, for evading these irksome restrictions. A lady who does not dare to afford you a passing look as you meet her in the street, will, in the church, knock aside her mantilla with her fan, and divide her glance between you arid the image of the blessed Virgin ; or, if you are passing near her balcony, she will dart upon you all the sweet attractions of her unveiled face. Unreasonable and indiscriminate re- straints promote neither the cause of religion or virtue. They convert the sanctuary into an ogling room, and the ballustered window into an amatory bower. The friars and monks of Lisbon are, apparently, the best fed people in it : they have a majestic cor- pulency of person, which reminds one of the good cheer which Sir Jack, of sack memory, so much ad- mired. You meet them at every turn, in their black flowing robes, sandals, silver-buckled shoes, and hats of enormous brim. They move along with that gentlemanly, good-natured, slow pace, which heeds 144 SHIP AND SHORE. not the flight of time. They have none of that thin, thinking, anxious look, which converts the closet and pulpit into a befitting refuge for ghosts; but they have that full, fat, jolly cast of countenance which lets the world pass for better or worse, and which well becomes a man, who knows that he can shrive a Sodom of its sins in a minute, or exorcise the devil out of as many millions as there are sands on the sea-shore. There is something in this full, well-fed look, of unconcern about this world and the next, which makes a man's conscience set easy upon him, and he begins to feel the flesh thicken upon his own bones. 4 The vow of celibacy in these fat, easy men, does not if there be any truth in scandal seriously interfere with their domestic pleasures. They have no wives, it is true, but the Foundling Hospitals, which are extensive and liberally endowed, have within them, according to report, many a sacerdotal likeness ; and these little fellows of ambiguous parentage, will, many of them, come forth one day to confess their betters, and run the career of their worthy fathers. The thing runs round in a rich voluptuous circle, far above the intrusions of an im- pertinent conscience, and the insulting terrors of a threatened hell. Such a life is worth having, and branded be the heretic that questions its sanctity. It is not, to be sure, in exact accordance with the habits of the Apostles ; but those men of leathern DWELLING-HOUSES. 145 girdles were foolish martyrs to their self-denying zeal. They lived in times when the absolving func- tions of popes and priests were not known : why, then, should their example be quoted in these good easy times, when there is no ignorance to be en- lightened, and no depravity to be restrained ? Let the world turn round on its axle, and let us all jog quietly along into heaven. But enough of this ! The sentinel who sleeps on his post, forfeits his life, and the minister of Christ, who slumbers over his responsibilities, perishes with a double doom ! The dwelling-houses of Lisbon are, many of them, five and six stories in height : each loft has its family and restricted accommodations ; a broad, dirty, com- mon stairway leads up through the whole ; and the rent decreases with the altitude. I wonder at this, for so intolerably filthy are many of the streets, which are continually sending up their noxious ex- halations, that I would get, if possible, into the highest loft, though it reached the moon. It is as much as a man's life is worth to attempt to get through the city by night. There are no lights, except here and there a glimmer from some case- ment, which only serves the more to bewilder ; and you stumble along, through dirt, and dogs, and dark- ness, till you fall at last into some foul ditch, or bring up against some sturdy, black- visaged fellow, who accosts you with a demand for your purse. Many a poor stranger, after having thus battered his T 146 SHIP AND SHOKE. shins, lost his hat, and bedabbled himself with mud, has ended the night's disasters by being robbed, and then perhaps murdered. I experienced one night all but the last incident, and I should prefer being assassinated in any place to this, for I should not have even the miserable con- solation of believing that my murderer would be detected, and made an example of warning to the rest of his nocturnal profession. Law here runs upon accidents ; it is like a wolf plunging through a bramble he may crush a snake, but he is much more likely to pounce on a lamb. The traveller in Lisbon is imposed upon in every conceivable shape : he is besieged by beggars, pil- fered by pickpockets, cheated by his hostess, and plundered by his cicerone. I inquired this morning of a cocheiro what he would charge to take me a short distance, to a place which I named. He stated his price in rees, a coin with which I was not famil- iar. A third individual, watching my embarrass- ment, touched his hat, and observed that the price named by the cocheiro was five Spanish dollars, and offered very kindly to take the money, pay him, and see he did his duty. But before he had finished his story, a fourth caine up, and, drawing me slightly aside, said that the price demanded by the cocheiro was only four dollars, and that the man had stated it to be five, for the sake of pocketing one himself, and offered generously to take the sum, and pay it over, CHEATING IMPOSITIONS. 147 lest there should be some misunderstanding, and 1 should, after all, be cheated. I hesitated, not liking the price, or the man*s soli- citude, when a fifth person drawing near, whispered that he had a word to say to me ; when, turning away a step or two with him, he said that these two men were the greatest cheats in Lisbon, that they imposed on all strangers, that the price of the cocheiro was simply three dollars, that he would take the money, and perhaps he might be able to beat him down even a trifle below that sum. I was not, however, quite so green in the world as to be caught yet, and observing a Portuguese merchant, with whom I had become acquainted, passing, I got him to explain to me the amount of the price named at first by the cocheiro ; and it proved to be only two dollars ! The reason the cocheiro did not interfere and rescue me from the friendship of these interpreters was, that they spoke very low and in broken English, which he could not comprehend ; or there might have been an understanding between him and these kind souls, for, after all, I got cheated, and paid about twice as much as the usual price. A stranger here wants an eye in every hair of his head ; and then, if his skull-cap be a wig, he will lose it ! The traveller will find but little choice between the hotels of Lisbon ; they are all miserable, perhaps Madam Julia's the least so. If his linguistical hostess press him too hard on the subject of ancient Ian- 148 SHIP AND SHORE. guages, he must adopt a similar expedient to the one which I took refuge in last Evening ; for as this rep resentative of all languages, especially the dead, came waddling to a chair near my side, commencing even before she had rolled into her seat, a disserta- tion on the relative force of Cicero and Demosthenes, I happened to look out at an open window, and dis- covering a blind man with a violin, led by a lad, who carried a guitar, dispatched a servant with instruc- tions to invite them in. Madam Julia declared a man must be out of his wits who could prefer such music as that to the elo- quence of the classics, and that she was not accus- tomed to have beggars in her parlor. I told her the fiddle must come or I should go, and ordered two good suppers prepared for my new guests. The last order partially reconciled madam to the introduction of the strangers, and the sudden breaking off of the literary discussion. My new acquaintances entered : one was a man of sixty, cleanly clad, and perfectly blind; the other was his son, a lad of twelve years, with a very bright, intelligent countenance. I inquired of the old gen- tleman how long he had been blind. He replied, " From my early childhood, sir." " And do you not find," I asked, " a consolation for this visual depriva- tion in this violin?" "It is the only thing," he re- plied, " that reconciles me to life." " And would you not," I thoughtlessly asked, " be willing to part CONDITION OF PORTUGAL. 149 forever with this instrument on condition you could recover your sight ?" He seemed to hesitate, a mo- ment, and then said, " That, sir, is rather a difficult question." After supper, in which the boy betrayed a truly filial and amiable disposition in assisting his blind lather to the coffee and different dishes, they played for an hour; and I have rarely been more enter- tained. Nature seems to have made up in music to the bereaved man what misfortune had deprived him of, in the loss of his sight. His voice flows into the full harmony of his violin with expressive richness and force. I would exchange to-day the use of one eye at least for the musical gift of voice and the magical power over the violin which this blind man possesses. In any country capable of appreciating and award- ing merit, so far from mendicity, he would rise at once to affluence ; but here the unworthy seem to prosper, and the meritorious to starve. The perform- ance of the lad was astonishing for one of his years ; but he had been trained, as his father informed me, almost from his infancy to the guitar. On parting with these new friends, I put into the hand of the boy what little money the extravagant charges of Madam Julia had left, and only regretted it was not more. The resources of Portugal are now in a most wretched condition. She has squandered her wealth 150 SHIP AND SHORE. in the prosecution of schemes which have ended only in abortion in the continuance of wars, which have terminated in her disgrace and in the support of an overgrown ecclesiastical establishment, that now weighs like a crushing incubus upon the poor rem- nants of her strength. Her capitalists are deterred from investments by the insecurity of property ; her merchants have lost their enterprise in the onerous restrictions of commerce; and her oppressed peas- antry, discouraged and broken-hearted, have retired to their hovels to die ! Nor in a political aspect is she less degraded and miserable. Her throne is the -subject of a violent fraternal conflict; her towns and villages are con- verted into lawless camps; and her more worthy citizens are sent into exile, to the scaffold, and the dungeon ! Freedom of opinion, nobleness of de- meanor, national pride, and self-respect have all per- ished from her soil, or survive only in some dark, indignant recess ! These are the fruits of a doting, drivelling despotism, that has ever manifested its imbecility by the pursuit of schemes visionary and impracticable ; that has long betrayed its ignorance, by confounding a calm difference of opinion with treason ; and that still evinces its unrelieved tyranny by punishing with death an exercise of that intelli- gence which alone raises man above the abject brute. But our anchor is weighed, and I must leave this ADIEU TO CINTRA. 151 land of peril and sorrow. Adieu, sweet Cintra! thou art a green oasis in the desert of thy realm. Farewell, thou noble Tagus ! would that those who dwell on thy fresh banks were more worthy of thy golden tribute : and Madam Julia, farewell to thee ! the tears are in my eyes ! farewell ! Cherish thy parrot ; and declare to all That this serene, exquisite bird was given, Before the dismal discords of the Fall, To bring to earth the dialect of heaven ; The very bird from whose celestial stammer Our mother Eve first learnt the Hebrew Grammar. 152 SHIP AND SHORE. CHAPTER IX. HE is a child of mere impulse and passion, Loving his friends, and generous to his foes, And fickle as the most ephemeral fashion, Save in the cut and color of his clothes, And in a set of phrases, which on land The wisest head could never understand. PASSAGE FROM LISBON TO GIBRALTAR - DIVERSIONS OF THE SAILOR - H19 TACT AT TELLING STORIES - LOVE OF THE SONG - FONDNESS FOR DANCING - UNHAPPY PROPENSITIES - DUTY OF THE GOVERNMENT TOWARDS HIM - GIBRALTAR - A BEFITTING EMBLEM OF BRITISH POWER - ROMANCE OF ITS HISTORY - FORTIFICATIONS - TROOPS - MOTLEY POPULATION - SUM- MIT OF THE ROCK - ST. MICHAEL'S CAVE - THE FIVE HUNDRED - MON- BODDO'S ORIGINALS PLEASURE PARTY - MUSIC AND A MERMAID. WE are again at sea, with our canvas set to a fresh, fair breeze, that promises to take us to our destined port. The evening has come in bland and beautiful ; the sky, nature's great dome, is yet unlit by the softer stars, but the light of the departed sun still lingers on the cloud, fringing it with golden fire. Such an evening as this more than reconciles one to the strange, adventurous life of the sailor; yet it brings with it, like the tones of recollected music, all the sacred endearments of home. The ocean-traveller thinks if only that one being, who dwells so brightly in his memory, could be near him could look at the same sunset, sky, and stars STORIES OF THE SAILORS. 153 it would be all he could ask he should be happy ; and perhaps he would, for their hearts would imper- ceptibly become harmonized to the same tone of pen- sive sentiment, till, like the mingling note of two lutes in perfect unison, their spirits would become one, and the current of their thoughts would glide away as from the same fresh fount. In the solitude of their situation they would cling to each other, as all that this poor world contains, nor dream that either could survive a dissolution of this concentrated life. An hour of such confiding attachment as this is worth years of that heartless intimacy which ob- tains in the circles of the gay. Such an evening as this, with its steady breeze, is a pastime to the roving sailor. He has no sails to reef, no yards to trim, and sits himself quietly down, while one of his companions, blessed with a more fertile imagination, spins a long yarn. These stories partake vastly more of fiction than fact, and are often, I have no doubt, the mere creations of the individual. They do not very nicely preserve the unities, but these are forgotten in a succession of marvellous, ludicrous, and tragical incidents. One of them will frequently be extended through several nights, and apparently increase in interest with its length. I have just heard one resumed for the fourth night, and how much longer it will be continued no one can conjecture The circle seated themselves in their 7* SHIP AND SHORE. wonted place on deck ; a silence ensued : " And where did I knock off?" inquired the teller. " Just where the gale struck the ship and she was thrown on her beam's end," answered one of the listeners. " No, it was where she split on the rock, just as she was making a snug harbor," replied another. "That was not the spot, neither," interrupted a third ; " it was where that strong swimmer, with a shark at his heel, made his way through breakers to the shore, and then dropped on the sand with his strength all spent. Don't you remember the beautiful girl who .came down to the beach and held his head on her knee, when her blessed tears dropped on his cheek ?" " Oh ! that was the spot," exclaimed the story- teller, u and a sweeter creature never lived : she knew nothing about tBht man, only that he had been wrecked, for she was standing on a cliff when she saw the ship strike the rock and go down ; yet soon as he reached the beach, and was trying to get fur- ther from the wave, and kept fainting and falling till he couldn't rise any more, she came at once to him, sat directly down, and raised his head on her knee, and then bless her sweet heart ! wrung all the salt water out of his hair, and watched his face like a sister, to see if he would breathe again. Oh ! fellows, there is something in a woman you never meet with in a man. She never waits 'to be paid l>r her pity, it comes at once bubbling right up out of her heart. This girl knew the tnan had nothing OF THE SAILOR. 155 to give her for her kindness, for his landtacks had all been wrecked with the ship; she saw he was young, and handsome too, if he hadn't been so pale ; but it wasn't that, that made her come to him." Here I was called away; the story, however, was continued, but of the end I know as little as the reader. The song is another evening amusement among our sailors, when the breeze is steady and the sea smooth. They gather forward before the call of the first watch in a large group, when some one, more favored than the rest in melody of voice, is called upon for a song. With little ado, save adjusting his tarpaulin and dispensing with his quid, he strikes up, it may be the Defeat of Burgoyne, the Battle of Plattsburg, the Star-spangled Banner, the Cherub that sits up Aloft, or Black-eyed Susan, but what- ever be his choice, or the selection of his comrades, he sings it with a genuine earnestness, and down- right honesty of heart. The music, be the words what they may, has generally a touch of the melan- choly, and might be classed, without any violence, among those airs to which the good "Whitfield al- luded, when he determined that the devil should not run away with all the fine tunes. There was. one among our crew, whose powers in the musical line were so far above his fellows that we often called upon him for a song. His fa- w^as. Blac.k-eyee most oppressive violence was adopted. To these atrocious measures, however, they unresistingly submitted, till their wrongs, increasing with their forbearance, attained an aggravation and malignity that became at last insupportable. Their elders and opulent citizens were cast into prison as hostages their fields and dwell- ings plundered by mercenary soldiers, and the sanc- tity of virtue wantonly outraged. Still they hesitated in adopting the desperate alternative of open resist- ISLAND OF 8CIO. 277 ance, and hung in torturing suspense till roused by the reckless zeal of a few wandering Samians. They were without an organized plan of operation, without the advantages of discipline, or the imple- ments of war, but arming themselves with such weapons as their forest furnished, they rose on their oppressors. Fortune, for a time, under all these dis- advantages, seemed to favor their perilous determina- tion ; but the alarm having been given to the Ad- miral of the Turkish fleet, who was supposed at the time to be at a much greater distance, he immediately anchored in the bay, with a force of forty sail, and opened all their batteries on the devoted town. The scene that followed has no parallel in the history of modern warfare. It was not the suppres- sion of a rebellion, but the total extermination of a people, who had ever been characterized for their amiable and forgiving dispositions. The town was taken, sacked, and demolished the priests and elders, who had been cast into prison as hostages, were brought out and impaled alive and the inhabit- ants of every age and condition, without regard to sex, were hunted down in every retreat, and massa- cred in cold blood ; till at last, the whole island, so recently teeming with life and beauty, became a Golgotha of groans and blood. If there be a God in heaven, such crimes as these will not go unpunished ! The retribution may linger, but it will come in the end like lightning from the cloud. 278 SHIP AND SHORE. The frown of God will on the guilty fall, Like volleyed thunder on the trembling sea ; Despair o'ercloud them, with its sunless pall, While bursts the wail of their wild agony, Like that of nations, when their cities rock, And fall in ruins with the earthquake's shock. Let the man who can reproach the retaliating spirit of the Greek, or the conduct of the Allies at Navarino, visit this island. Let him plant his foot where the nourishing town of Scio once stood, and gaze on a mangled mass of ruins let him stand where the Attic college rose, with its library of thirty thousand volumes, and its assemblage of seven hundred youth receiving the elements of a classic education, and be presented only with ashes let him grope through the choked-up streets and call for the once thronging and happy population, and hear not a voice in reply let him wander through the fields where innumer- able vineyards once showered their purple store, and meet with only the bramble and the lizard and then let him inquire why an island so populous and fruit- ful as this, has become a waste and a tomb. Let him ask wnat crime has been committed to draw down this desolating curse. Let the dead answer : Because we offered resist- ance to wrongs and outrages, from which the grave is a welcome refuge ! God of my fathers ! there was a time when enormities like these would have roused np a spirit, before which the guilty perpetrator would RUINS OF SCIO. 279 have sunk in shame and despair ! But we coolly sit and canvass the policy of a measure that would pre- vent a repetition of these brutalities. In the name of humanity, what is religion worth, unless it lead us to defend the innocent, and succor the helpless ? Let us cast off the name of Christianity, unless we can perform some of its most obvious and imperative duties. If we cannot show ourselves worthy of our calling, let us cast aside the mask, and stand con- fessed for what we really are. Let us cease to hug a profession which serves only to betray others, and must in the end expose us to the deepest humiliation and reproach. I ought not, perhaps, to linger here, yet I cannot but ponder, as I pass along, and give vent to feelings excited by objects so full of interest. I cannot re- strain the torrent of my soul, when passing a spot that has been. thus steeped with the blood of the great and the brave. I wish the sighs, agonies, and de- spairing shrieks, of which this island was the scene, might float on every breeze through the earth, to sicken men's hearts with the hateful deformities of war. Could the sufferings and sorrows of which' the field of battle has been the source, be gathered up, and speak in their collected wretchedness, the horrors of a thousand, earthquakes would be forgotten amidst the lamentations and wailings that would then sweep through the habitations of mankind. God formed 280 SHIP AND BHOKE. man upright, and placed him in a world of beauty and happiness ; but he has profaned his high nature, and changed his dwelling into a charnel-house. But to resume the path of our ship. Leaving Metelin on our larboard quarter, we doubled Cape Karabornu, and entered tke Gulf of Smyrna. This arm of the sea strikes up some fifty miles into the main land, and is invaded at several points by an abrupt termination of some mountain range, shoul- dering its way boldly forward with its stupendous steeps of forest and rock. At other points, a circular sweep of small islands, rising near the shore and bending into the gulf, subserve the purposes of a mole, and give an air of varied beauty to the whole. On one of these islands, the first in a small chain that swell to the right as we pass up, stood the an- cient Clazomenaa. In its day it had the aspect of a neat floating city ; the dwellings rising over the oval curve of its form, with light and beautiful effect. The pier connecting it at a distance of one-fourth of a mile with the main, constructed by Alexander, is still standing, and though dilapidated, is sufficiently entire to subserve still the purposes of its original construction. The Clazomenians, however, were in course of time forced to relinquish their isle of palaces, to i-rapo from the annoying visits of the pirates of Tino. This was very wrong in thcTinoan corsair; his familiarity any where is a great liberty, and he should not extend ANCIENT CLAZOMKN^E. 281 his freedom to the land. It was a breach of good- breeding which can never be excused, especially as his obtrusiveness was ultimately the means of leaving to this island only the Mosaic pavements, which are still the wonder of the traveller. Passing Clazomense, which now in its desolate beauty bears the name of him who once dwelt in Patmos ; passing near by the small town of Yourla, standing on its two hills, from which the Turks and Franks look at each other, with feelings and habits that will amalgamate when their hills rush together ; passing the excellent and convenient fountain where our ships replenish their exhausted tanks, breathing a blessing, as they depart, to that article in the Mus- sulman's faith which inculcates these hospitable -pro- visions for the wayfaring and weary ; passing the neglected fortress which was posted here to command the pass, with its guns of ostentatious calibre, and huge marble balls piled around the low embrasure, but which, with all its threatening malignity, like our unfortunate Ticonderoga, may be overawed and si- lenced from a neighboring height ; passing the in- vading shoals, which the Hermus, in strange forget- fulness of its classic purity, is depositing, and which, if the sad prophecies of many shrewd observers prove true, will one day stagnate the gulf ; passing many woody steeps, where the huntsmen are still wont to chase the wild-boar and goat, and a succession of val- leys, with their groves of the olive, the fig, the almond, 282 SHIP AND SHORE. the pomegranate, with the trailing grape, we came at last in front of Smyrna, crowning the head-water, and giving that sort of plump satisfaction, which one feels in knowing that he has arrived indisputably at the end of his journey. Yet, strange as it may seem, one week will not have elapsed, before the crew of this ship will begin to manifest some of their roving impulses. A sailor finds, where'er he goes ashore, One whom he cherishes with some affection ; But leaving port, he thinks of her no more, Unless it be in some severe reflection Upon his wicked ways ; then with a sigh Resolves on reformation ere he die. He thinks his dialect the very best That ever flowed from any human lip, And whether in his prayers, or at a jest, Employs the terms for managing a ship ; And even in death would order up the helm, In hope to clear the undiscovered realm. An order given, and he obeys of course, Though 'twere to run his ship upon the rocks Capture a squadron with a boat's crew force Or batter down the massive granite blocks Of some huge fortress with a swivel, pike, Pistol, aught that will throw a ball, or strike. He never shrinks, whatever may betide ; His weapon may be shivered in his hand, His last companion shot down at his side, Still he maintains his firm and desperate stand Bleeding and battling with his rolors fast As nail can bind them to his shattered mast. SMYRNA. 283 CHAPTER XV. FAR in thy realm withdrawn, Old empires sit in sullenness and gloom ; And glorious ages gone Lie deep within the shadow of thy womb. Childhood, with all its mirth, Youth, manhood, age, that draws us to the ground, And last, man's life on earth, Glide to thy dim dominions, and are bound. BRYANT. SMYRNA ITS SEAMEN MOTLEY POPULATION THE TARTAR -JANIZARY MODERN WARFARE ENCOUNTERS IN THREADING THE STREETS FRUIT MARKET BAZARS GREEK GIRLS TURKISH BURIAL-GROUND THE CHILD UNACQUAINTED WITH DEATH SMYRNA CONTINUED RELIGIOUS SECTS VISIT TO GOVERNOR HIS PALACE PIPES HORSES TROOPS COFFEE-HOUSE SCENE PRAYERS OF THE MUSSULMEN MARTYRDOM OF POLYCARP BIRTH-PLACE OF HOMER PARTING WITH THE READER. OTJE ship was now riding quietly at anchor, before Smyrna ; and I was casting about to catch a few of the singular sights and incidents of flood and field. The quay was lined with vessels bearing the flags of different nations clearly indicating the commercial importance of the place. It gave me feelings of pe- culiar pleasure, to see here in this " distant orient" the stars of my own country floating independently among crowns and crescents. A considerable portion of the craft were the Levantine feluccas confining the utmost range of their nautical daring to the shores 284: SHIP AND SHORE. of the Mediterranean seldom venturing out sight of land and thus, by this strand-keeping anxiety, encountering a thousand perils from which the open sea is exempt. The Levantine sailor is as constant and stationary in his habits as are the rocks on which he is so fre- quently wrecked. He constructs his vessel after the same model which was observed centuries ago, and navigates her as anxiously from island to island, or close along the coast, as did the Argonauts their crowded ship in search of Colchis. His craft, with its wedge-like stem, and triangular stern, has upon it every evidence of rudeness and haste it is just such a thing as mariners, cast upon some forlorn coast, would drive together. Yet this ill-shapen waddler is made to float in the dream of the classic poet, gracefully as the motion of a swan on the breast of a lake. How poetic illusion vanishes, when the reality comes up ! Among nearer objects on shore, the Marino first attracts the eye. It iS bordered by a range of Con- sular residences, and is constantly trod by a bustling crowd, with every variety of dialect and costume that have obtained since Babel was confounded, and Joseph's coat of many colors stitched together. Smyr- na is said to contain a more numerous and vivid i vj rcsen tation of national character and peculiarities, than any other city in the world and I believe it ; for I have never read or dreamed of any communities, TURK AND GREEK. 285 except those in the moon, that are not appropriately represented here. This motley crowd have also no tendency whatever to amalgamation. They are as distinct in feature, language, and habits of life, as if they had been but yesterday, by some tremendous convulsion in nature, thrown together from the four quarters of the globe. I have stood by the hour together, displaying my want of good-breeding, in laughing at the ring- streaked and speckled throng as they went by each uttering a distinct language and making in the whole a chorus, embracing every sound, from the whispering of the reed in the wind, to the crack in the thunder-cloud. In appearance and movement the Turk is the most majestic and imposing. His frame is portly and muscular ; indicating, in every look and motion, a life of ease and unconcern. His green turban rolls in rich pomp about his head ; his blue embroidered spenser descends into a broad red sash, which encircles his waist, supporting at the same time his mounted pistol, and jewelled yataghan ; his white trowsers flow full and free to the gathering ankle, where the green slipper receives the foot and terminates the variety. He moves on with a slow, dignified step, allowing to no object even the compliment of an oblique glance with a countenance of imperturbable gravity, betray- ing in its composure that self-complacent confidence which leads you to suppose that he is confident of 286 SHIP AND SHORE. going, whatever may betide, to the seventh heaven of the Prophet. Near him strides the Armenian, with his large brown calpec, snuff-colored gown, and red boot, medi- tating on some new banking scheme, or whispering to himself some unfamiliar terms, which he may have occasion to use in the office as dragoman. Then follows the Jew in his careless, promiscuous attire, without weapons, but ready to purchase out all Smyr- na for you, at a trifling advance beyond the original cost. Then darts past the Greek in his red cap, round jacket, and ample kilts, twisting his mustaches, or replenishing his pipe, and snapping his eyes around, as if some sudden peril, or new scheme of cunning had occurred to him. Now dashes by the Tartar- Janizary in his stiff capote, with his trusty weapons in their place, defiance and fidelity in his eye ? and on a steed of quick hoof, leading some party of travellers to Sardis, Ephesus, Constantinople, or any- where else that their curiosity or interest may require. There is something about this wild being, that strikes the most careless observer. It is not his equipage so much as his bearing, and the fierce un- alterable decision and energy which flash from his eye. He looks as one whom you could rely upon in an hour of peril and conflict whom you would like to have at your side if waylaid by robbers and who would resolutely deal the deadly blow, though but a MODERN WARFARE. 287 fragment of his blade remained. An army composed of such men would make every disputed field and pass a Marathon, or Thermopylae ; and I am not sure but that the interests of humanity would be consulted by such inevitable alternatives. Wars would be more bloody, but they would be of less duration, and occur with vastly less frequency. We have now so much marching and counter- marching so much scouting and skirmishing so much shooting behind the bush, bramble, and breast- work so much rallying and running, the great and solemn " note of preparation" all the white sound- ing that our wars are as long and doubtful as the siege of Troy. In the mean time hundreds are dying some from random shots and sallies some from disease and privations incident to camp life some from having deserted, others from ennui, and not a few from potulency. The difference is, that in one case men die at once, and in the mass in the other they die singly and by inches ; and I leave it for amateurs in gunpowder and gold lace to determine which involves the great- est expense of treasure and blood. For my own part, I am in favor of carrying the art of war to such a de- gree of perfection and dispatch, that the fate of a Waterloo or Austerlitz may be decided in fifteen minutes, and then let the survivors go home and attend to their domestic and civil concerns. As for naval engagements, I have just now but very 288 SHIP AXD SHORE. little to say on that subject. It is not a pleasant thing to be sunk, and it is not a pleasant thing to be captured ; but whether victory or death is to be the result, let it come at once, no apprehensive ma- noeuvering no playing off and on no wearing and tacking no nice calculations of relative force : be the future a repetition of- the past lay the ship gal- lantly to her place and then triumph, or sink, as the tide of battle may turn. I did not think, when the Tartar dashed past me, that the daring fierceness of his eye would lead me into a lecture on military and naval tactics. But our thoughts are like the enchanter's birds, flying to what- ever quarter of the earth or sea the wand is pointed. I should be willing to have mine wander almost anywhere, to get rid of the narrow and dirty alleys of Smyrna. I found myself, in threading some of them, in a predicament truly unbecoming a gentle- man, who, if Shakspeare's definition be good au- thority, is one that " holds large discourse, looking before and after." I had nothing to discourse to, unless it were dogs, and dirt, and dingy dwellings, except now and then, when a form moved past me wrapped in a white sheet and close visor, but coming in such a " questionable shape," I could not speak it ; for it required more nerve than it would to accost a spectre in the silence and gloom of a sepulchre. I was told that each of these walking phantoms CAMELS AND PORTERS. 289 a Turkish female ! " Angels and ministers of grace defend us !' If death hifnself had invented a garb, it could not have been more frightful ! How the harem can need any protection beyond it, is in- conceivable. Had the arch-deceiver on his first visit to earth encountered Eve in such a disguise, he would have run howling out of Eden. What a world is this in which we live ! beautiful in its origin, replete in its resources, but darkened and disfigured by the jealousies and passions of man. Another source of trouble in threading the narrow streets of Smyrna, is encountering loaded camels that come along in strings of one or two hundred, fastened together, and led by a little jackass, who appears not more foolish and sulky than you feel, in being obliged to squat down upon the first stone, to escape a worse fate from the sweeping range of their enormous sacks. There is no alternative left you, but either to retreat or squat : and if you determine on the latter, you must sit there till the whole interminable file have crept 'past. You may then get up and move on, but before you have got ten roods, you will run a narrow chance of being knocked down by the poking end of some long plank, or beam, borne by a bent porter, whose dis- tance from the projecting extremity of his burden, frequently prevents your hearing the dead moan which he gives as the only admonition of his coming. His untimely warning can be of very little service or 13 290 SHIP AND SHORE. consolation to you, picking yourself up from the filth of the street, after Baving ruined a coat, on which your tailor exerted the highest skill of his profession. These porters are usually Turks, who pay a liberal bounty for the privilege of their occupation. The weight which they carry is incredible ; it inclines one to some confidence in the correctness of Doctor Nisborn's theory that the muscles of the human system are capable of being brought to such a degree of strength and endurance that a man might carry the globe on his back, could he only find a platform beneath on which to walk. The most bustling and attractive spot in Smyrna is within the Bazars, occupying the centre of the city. These shops, forming a succession of low and convenient arcades, contain all the finery and foppery of the East ; and are constantly thronged by the na- tives, who appear to find half their pleasures and ex- citements in purchasing trinkets and gewgaws. Among the most interesting of these purchasers, are the Greek girls, chattering, as you often find them, to some old Turk, Armenian, or Jew, over the queer beauty of some trifle, and laughing with a glee that makes you good-natured with all the world. Their flashing eyes, and sprightly conversation, with the fresh gladness which fills each feature, affords you more pleasure than you can experience among the most refined circles. I began to think that I had found nature once TURKISH MERCHANT. 291 more, and that, too, where it was least and last to be expected. But the grave and demure manner of the Turk, seated on his small carpet, around which his glittering articles were exposed for sale, cooled a lit- tle my effervescing enthusiasm. He never smiled, he never looked up, nor appeared to take the slight- est interest either in the fair purchasers or the bar- gain. " What a stupid block is this 1" I exclaimed. " There is neither sentiment, civility, nor common reason in him ! Why, I would part with the locks from my temples for the mere smiles of such sweet creatures ! But this unconscionable fellow sits here as untouched and unconcerned as if he were specu- lating with gravestones." I must not, however, be too severe on the Turk, as he atones in some measure for his want of gallantry, in never recommending his articles for* what they are not, and never in his change cheating his young customers. This is more than can be said generally of the Franks ; they are all smiles and deception, politeness and imposition. The Turk, though, vastly less attractive and engaging, is the safer man to deal with. Yet among the shopping ladies of my own country, he would not sell the value of five farthings a year ; for he holds no chat, exchanges no smiles, no glances, and pays no compliments. He coolly pre- sents the articles inquired for : if you purchase, well ; if not, it is a matter of your concern, not his. Our ladies would undoubtedly call occasionally at 292 SHIP AND SHOKE. his shop, but it would be to look at his beard, dis- turb the slumber of his goods, vex his indolence, and laugh at his self-complacent taciturnity. But though ever so silent and supercilious, there are at least two things in which you may trust a Turk all lengths money and malice : in both he will be sure to render you your full due, be the consequences what they may to himself. The fruit -market forms another object of interest in Smyrna. It is the true temple of Pomona. You can scarcely name a product of the garden, field, or grove, that is not to be found here, with a delicious richness of flavor unknown- to other climes. The grape, apple, orange, with the fig, pomegranate, and melon, seem to melt in the mouth, and flood the taste with a gushing richness, which lingers there, like the absorbing sensations of the infant receiving its nour- ishment at the earliest and purest fountain of life. Even the Turk the solemn tranquillity of whose countenance is seldom disturbed by an emotion of pleasure as the ripe peach of Sangiac, or the lus. cious melon of Cassaba, flows over the palate, will look up, as if he had already gained a portion of his future paradise. There is one species of fruit here, than which the charm of the serpent is not more fascinating and deadly it is the apricot, with its blushing beauty and tempting flavor; but he who eats it jeopards his life. It is called here by the natives the Kill-Frank, TURKISH BURIAL-GROUND. 293 and so it nearly proved to me. I began to think that I had indeed reached the end of my journey but its tumultuous agonies slowly passed off, and I am still living to stamp it, in all its hypocritical charms, with my unqualified denunciation. There is nothing so deceptive and fatal, unless it be the mint-julep, which some of our giddy young men take before breakfast to reinstate their nerves, after the potulent excesses of the night previous. They are both fit only for those who have suicidal in- tentions ; yet, if a man has really determined to de- stroy himself, perhaps the julep is the preferable in- strument; for the victim, in his "drunken delirium, will not be unavailingly visited by " The late repentance of that hour, When Penitence hath lost her power, To tear one terror from the grave, And will not soothe, and cannot save." The Turkish burial-ground forms one of the most green and fresh features in the landscape around Smyrna. It lies in quiet retirement from the noise and empty parade of the town, and seems in its own stillness to intimate to man the vanity of those ob- jects which so engross his cares, and fever his exist- ence. It is densely shaded with the cypress that appropriate and beautiful tree, which appears to have been given to guard the tomb, and furnish, in its un- fading verdure, a type of our immortality. 294 SHIP AND SHORE. The sepulchral monument is a simple column of white marble, surmounted with a tastefully sculptured turban, and bearing frequently a brief sentence from the Koran. No titles are recorded, no virtues pro- claimed ; it is what it should be, a touching memo- rial of our own frailty. No one can linger here through a still summer's evening the soft wind sighing through the branches of the cypress the moonlight touching the marbles of the dead the wave of the bay dying with a melancholy murmur on the shore without departing the wiser and better. Standing here at this hushed hour of even with these memorials, and dying whispers of nature around me, the world, with its strife, and pride, and noisy pleasures, appeared but as the vanishing away of some troubled dream. "Would that the years which remain might partake of the spirit of this scene. Why should life be exhausted in pursuit of that which is so soon to convince us that it is only shadow ! Sweet Star ! I do invoke thy power To soothe and lighten my distress : O let thy tranquilizing beam Pervade this agitated breast ; And let me be what thou dost seem A sinless spirit of the blest. For I am weary of this shroud, This mortal shroud of guilt and pain Where every hope seems doubly bowed, Beneath an unrelenting chain. ARMENIAN BURIAL-GROUND. 295 When shall my spirit leave its clay, Refined from all the dross of earth, And fit to dwell in that pure ray, Wherein, sweet Star, thou hadst thy birth ? I know the night is waning fast, But linger still, sweet one, with me, And hear this once, as oft thou hast, My early orison to thee : O break this dark distempered dream This unavailing search for rest And let me be what thou dost seem A sinless spirit of the blest. The burial-ground of the Armenian, like that of the Moslem, removed a short distance from the town, and sprinkled with green trees, is a favorite resort not only for the bereaved, but those whose feelings are not thus darkly overcast. I met there one morn- ing a little girl with a half-playful countenance, busy blue eye, and sunny locks, bearing in one hand a small cup of china, and in the other a wreath of fresh flowers. Feeling a very natural curiosity to know what she could do with these bright things in a place that seemed to partake so much of sadness, I watched her light motions. Reaching a retired grave, covered with a plain marble slab, she emptied the seed which it appeared the cup contained into the slight cavities which had been scooped out in the corners of the tablet, and laid the wreath on its pure face. 296 SHIP AND SHORE. " And why," I inquired, " my sweet girl, do you put the seed in those little bowls there ?" " It is to bring* the birds here," she replied, with a half- wondering look- " they will light on this tree," pointing to the cypress above, " when they have eaten the seed, and sing." " To whom do they sing ?" I asked " to each other ? to you ?" " Oh no," she quickly replied " to my sister : she lies there." " But your sister is dead ?" " Oh yes, sir ; but she hears all the birds sing." " "Well, if she hears the birds sing, she cannot see that wreath of flowers ?" " But she knows I put it there : I told her, before they took her away from our house, I would come and see her every morning." " You must," I continued, " have loved that sister very much ; but you will never talk with her any more, never see her again." " Yes, sir," she replied, with a brightened look, " I shall see her always in heaven." " But she has gone there already, I hope." " No ; she stops under this tree till they bring me 'here, and then we are going to heaven together." " But she is gone already, my child : you will meet her there, I trust ; but certainly she is gone, and left you to come afterwards." She looked at me her eyes began to swim I could have clasped her to my heart. Come here, my sweet one be it so, That 'neath this cypress-tree Thy sister sees those eyes o'erflow, And fondly waits for thec ; RELIGIOUS SECTS. 297 That still she hears the young birds sing, And feels the chaplet's bloom Which every morn thy light hands bring, To dress her early tomb. And when they bring thee where she lies, To share her narrow rest Like sister seraphs, may ye rise To join the bright and blest. The mosques, synagogues, and churches of Smyrna are very numerous, but without any architectural pretensions. In the first, the Mussulman, after hav- ing performed his ablutions, lays aside his slippers, and bows himself with an air of profund veneration towards Mecca. In the second, the Jew chants with a deep and solemn tone his Hebraic harmonies, and kneels with mournful confidence towards Jerusalem. In the last, the Greek crosses himself, and looks with penitential solicitude to his patron saint, to the blessed Virgin, or to that great Spirit, the universality of whose presence none can escape. In neither sect is there much tolerance towards apostates from their faith. The follower of Moham- med, who deserts his faith, loses his head ; the de- luded child of Abraham, who ceases to expect the promised Messiah, goes to the bastinado or the dun- geon; and the unreflecting Greek, who may assume the turban, or turn away from the altar of the Ma- donna, forfeits the friendship of his relatives, and secures the scorn of his foes. 18* 298 SHIP AND SHORE. A convert from either sect is looked upon by his brethren as an apostate from truth, hope, and heaven He has no safety or repose, but in an escape to other lands, where the rights of conscience are recognized and respected. Yet, while this unmingled hatred and cruelty are visited upon apostacy, these different sects manifest towards each other, in their collective capacities, a forbearance and civility that is truly commendable. Their indignation appears to light simply on those who have swerved from their own faith. The Turk, while he beheads his brother, who may have ceased to call on the Prophet, has apparently no objection that the Jew should still expect his de- liverer, or that the Greek should still cross himself at the shrine of his saint. His tolerance flows not so much from that charity which " suffereth long, think- eth no evil, and is not easily provoked," as from a deep and settled contempt for the short-sighted beings who may differ from him in their religious creed. He looks upon the Koran as such a splendid and well- authenticated revelation, that a man who can refuse it his belief, and forego the pleasures which it prom- ises, evinces, in his estimation, a stupidity and dog- ged obstinacy of character, which forfeits him all claim to consideration. He would seemingly regard it as a degradation, in him to make a proselyte of such an incorrigible, miserable being. Yet, in secular affairs, in business, in trade, the GOVERNOR OF SMYRNA. Turk meets you with a civility, frankness, and honesty, which you are disposed to construe into a compliment- ary confidence and respect. But this is his nature, he would be the same were he purchasing shells of a Hottentot, or furs of a Siberian savage. His respect- ful demeanor flows from an innate pride and dignity of spirit, and not from the suggestions of any flatter- ing regard for you. He is above a mean trick though unequalled in that duplicity of character which Joab revealed in taking his friend Amasa by the beard, kissing him, and ending the fraternal embrace by stabbing him under the fifth rib. The most extensive and sumptuous edifice in Smyrna is the palace of the Musselim, or Governor. It is pleasantly situated near the harbor, in the south- ern section of the city, and is surrounded by an ex- tensive garden. Our consul, Mr. Ofley, with Captain Read, and the officers of the Constellation, called on his Excellency, in accordance with an appointment previously arranged. Passing a mounted guard in the court, and ascending a broad flight of plain stairs, we were ushered into an extensive saloon, surrounded by a rich ottoman, in which the Governor was seated, with his feet drawn under him, in the true turco modo. He received us with a courtly ease, and gratifying familiarity of manner; and immediately on our being seated, commenced a scattering series of questions, in which he betrayed both ignorance and shrewdness. 300 SHIP AND SHORE. His mind ran incessantly from one topic to another, like a fox first confined to the grated apertures of his cage, Whatever the answer might be to any ques- tion, it appeared to excite little surprise, and some- times he would cut it off, by putting another so foreign to the last, that the contrast would force an involun- tary smile. His questions were sometimes involved in a little mist, but they generally reached their most remote object with singular directness and celerity. The moment he spoke, his countenance lighted up as if some new thought had suddenly flashed on his spirit ; and then again it would as instantaneously subside into its customary good-humored apathy. He appeared to be about fifty years of age, and to possess a constitution impaired by anxiety and seden- tary habits. His dress was a red velvet cap, with a rich blue tassel depending from the centre of the crown a loose robe of the glossy angora with full trowsers, and close vest of the same light and elegant material. His slippers were not seen, his feet being drawn up under him on the sofa, where he sat with a greater ease of attitude than I ever saw assumed on chair or tripod, We had not been long seated when fifteen or twenty handsomely attired attendants entered with hands crossed in front, in token of submission ; and eacli bearing a pipe, which he presented to us in a kneel- ing posture. The stems of these narcotic auxiliaries PIPES AND COFFEE. 301 of Turkish luxury were of the native cherry, elegantly slender, and seven or eight feet in length, with a bowl of argillaceous substance, and a long mouth-piece of pure amber. One end rested on a silver plate near the centre of the room, and the other it was expected you would place to your lips with delighted suction. He that never smoked before with such a pipe as this, would be excused if he began the giddy experiment. The first sensations of love, with the dilating heart and mysterious sympathy, could not be more sweet and inexplicably delightful, than the soft vapors of this aromatic plant, winding along through the cool and polished tube, and finally flowing through amber, into the mouth. Cynics and quacks may prattle as much as they please against the pipe, yet no man who wishes to be soothed when he is weary, or ex- hilarated when he is depressed, will decline the Turk- ish chibouque. Thy quiet spirit lulls the laboring brain, Lures back to thought the flights of vacant mirth ; Consoles the mourner, soothes the couch of pain, And breathes contentment round the humble hearth ; ' While savage warriors, softened by thy breath, Unbind the captive hate had doomed to death. Thy vapor bathes the Caffre's sooty walls, And fills the mighty Czar's imperial dome; Rolls through Byzantine's oriental halls, And floats around the Arab's tented dome ; Melts o'er the anchorite's repentant meal, And shades the lightning of the Tartar's steel. 302 SHIP AND SHORE. "While enjoying the pleasures of the precious weed, the attendant kneeled before each with a few sips of coffee, in an extremely small and elegant cup of china, resting in a delicate stand of filigreed gold. It was taken without sugar or cream, and though but a swallow in quantity, it contained more of the real juice of the Moca-berry, than is usually found in our cups of much more promising dimensions. Coffee with us is frequently about as strongly impregnated with the berry, as the passing stream in which the native plant may happen to cast its shadow. After having our pipes several times replaced by fresh ones, and filling the saloon with a cloud of floating fragrance, and drinking a glass of cool sher- bet, and touching on all topics within the ranging imagination of the Musselim, we were to depart, when his Excellency informed us that his horses had been brought into the green, and the troops of the garrison paraded for our inspection, and he might have added for the gratification of his own pride. We found the horses well worthy of their princely master plump, smooth, and playful full of energy and fire, yet submissive to the bit and prancing under their riders as if motion were a new, delightful sensation. Several of them were of the Arabian blood, with small muscular limbs graceful and ath- letic conformation, with u flowing iu;uu\ 1'ive nostril, bright eye, and a curved neck, in which the very thun- der seemed to lurk. TURK AND HIS STEED. 303 The Mussulman preserves his steed unmanned and entire, just as nature formed him, and bestows upon him the most kind and constant attentions ; and not without just reason, for a Turk without his horse would be almost as deplorably conditioned as a Catho- lic without his beads. The one would give up all hope of seeing his nearest neighbor, and the other of reaching heaven. If a man proposes running away with a horse at the risk of being hung or decapitated, I should advise him to take the Arabian ; for in the first place, he could not be overtaken except on a steed of equally astonishing fleetness ; and in the next place, if over- taken and bow-strung, or made to swing so very awkwardly from the ground, he will have the satis- faction of knowing that he forfeited his life in an effort to avail himself of the noblest animal on earth. Still I would not, in this world of stern law and un- forgiving justice, advocate even this kind of magni- ficent plunder, for there is no romance in the gallows no racing or riding in the grave. I wish I could say as much in favor of the Gover- nor's troops as his steeds for a more unsoldierlike body of men I never saw under arms. They re- minded me of one of our backwoods militia trainings, where no two have coats or corn-stalks alike. The apology given for their appearance was, that they had just been driven in from the country. The mode of raising recruits here, exhibits the true 304 SHIP AND SHOKE. genius of the Ottoman government ; it is to send out a force sufficient to reconnoitre all the small villages, where the youth, who cannot make their escape, are seized, tied together, and driven into the encamp- ment, to fight, nolens aut volens. If they show a disposition to desert, they are pretty sure to be shot, or bastinadoed to death ; and if they remain, their fate may be more slow, but it will come with equal suffering and certainty, in the charge of the enemy, the destructiveness of the plague, or the tyrannical authority and merciless inconsideration of their com- manders. Let those who would dissolve our Union, and ren- der us in our scattered strength the prey of foreign avarice and power, look here and see what the loss of liberty really is, and take a lesson of wholesome admonition. These poor fellows have been wrenched away from their parents and homes, chained together as culprits, driven over parching sands to this gar- rison, and are now, in a few days to be marched off under their arms, with a prospect of a mere precari- ous subsistence, into the burning plains of Syria, there to perish in battle, or wither away with fatigue and famine. But whether the sands of the desert, or the field nf blood be their grave, their homes will know thi'iii no more! They have left forever behind thorn all that the earth holds dear. The most foolish and frantic disunionist in our country who can look at this, and CASTLE OF MOUNT PAGUS. 305 not feel compunctions of shame, and devote himself anew to the great cause of united liberty, is unworthy of the age in which he lives, and of the country that has given him birth. But to return to Smyrna. Through the southern section of the city swells a very high hill, command- ing a wide range of land and water, and bearing the name of Mount Pagus. It is surmounted by a Geno- ese castle, reared on the huge foundations of one con- structed by Alexander the Great. The castle is now unfortified, and has only the frowning aspect of its gigantic proportions to strengthen its friends, or in- timidate its foes. In our ascent to the castle, we passed over the obliterated foundations of the amphitheatre, where Poly carp was martyred amid thousands who had as- sembled to wonder at his fanatical fortitude, or jeer his recanting timidity. But that great apostle of truth felt too deeply the responsibility of his situation, to consult the weaker impulses of his nature. He had heard the warning voice of the Son of God, calling to him, through the sainted exile of Patinos, as the angel of the church of Smyrna, to be " faith- ful unto death ;" he stood untremblingly true to the confidence with which he had been divinely honored ; and passed from the sorrows and agonies of martyr- dom, to receive the promised " crown of life." His devoted example inspired hundreds with kin- dred emotions, it strengthened the weak, decided 306 SHIP AXD SHORE. the doubting, and confirmed the wavering; it made the church of Smyrna one of those firm outposts of Christianity which no bribes could seduce, and no terrors or trials disarm. She stood simple, erect, and uncompromising leaning upon an unshaken faith in the promises of her Redeemer, and looking forward to the day of her deliverance and triumph. That day came, and the humble cause which she had espoused, sweeping away the altars and fanes of idolatry, en- throned itself upon the aifections and confidence of the civilized world. From the battlements of the castle we could trace the Meles, winding through its fertile valley, and mingling its waters with the broad wave of the bay. We wandered down to the bank of this classic stream, and lingered around the green spot, which, it is con- tended, was the birth-place of Homer. The young, beautiful, and unfortunate Critheis if the story be as true as it is full of scandal fled to this secluded shade to escape the exposure and shame of becoming a mother ; little thinking, in her solitude and anguish, that the offspring of her erring fondness was to string a lyre to which the whole earth would listen. She sunk to an early grave, and left her boy, as most do who thus err, to wander destitute and for- hakcn. But nature was not denied him, he strayol among her founts and flowers, visited her recesses of deeper beauty, listened to the tone of her thousand voices, caught the spirit that quickens through her VIEW OF THE TOWN. 307 mysterious frame, and poured forth his exulting sen- sations in a tide of imperishable song. Though un- known, except in his numbers, he has charmed the world into an immortal remembrance and affection. The posterity of those who left him to famish and die, have contended for the honor of his birth, and reared their richest monuments to his name. Soon or late the claims of genius must be acknowledged and felt. Time, while it levels all other distinctions, will leave untouched those created by the mind. The prayers of the Mussulman at the rising and setting of the sun, and at mid-day, never fail to at- tract the ear and eye of the stranger in Smyrna. You hear at that hour, from all the minarets of the mosques, a voice uttering, in tones deep and solemn, the invocation " Come to prayer there is no God but God, and Mahomet is his prophet come to prayer I summon you with a clear voice." The faithful fall on their knees, and, with their faces turned towards Mecca, bow themselves three times to the earth ; repeating between each prostration a brief prayer ; then slowly rising, seem to carry into their occupation a portion of the solemnity which charac- terizes this scene. Your impression is, that the follower of the Pro- phet, however erroneous may be his faith, is not ashamed of his religion that he is not the being who will forego his prayers out of a shrinking, unbe- coming regard for the presence or prejudices of oth- 308 SHIP AND SHORE. 4 ers and your respect for him, in this particular, is in proportion to his seeming want of it for you. Let those who put away the good old family Bible on some unseen shelf, and who go to bed at night with- out their domestic devotions if a stranger be pres- ent take a hint from the Mussulman. The most silent spot in Smyrna is that which you would expect to find the most noisy ; that is, the cafenet, or hotel. You will find here at every hour of the day thirty or forty Turks, seated under the trees which deeply shade the court now and then giving a long whiff, and relieving the intervals by a sip of coffee, which atones for the absence of cream and sugar in its strength. All this while not a word is spoken ; not a sound is heard, save that of the lit- tle fountain, and even this, in the faint lapse of its notes, seems falling asleep. On one occasion, and but one, I saw this silence broken up. I had observed two Turks, seated on opposite sides of the court, casting at each other, between tfyeir whiffs, looks of rather a menacing character. !N"o words, however, passed no inimical motions were made nothing indicated anger, except the occasional scorching glance of a deep, black eye ; when, sud- denly dropping their pipes, they sprang at the same instant upn their feet, and discharged their pistols : but neither took effect. I expected to see them ni>h di ntluT with :i plunging yatn^an ; but what was my surprise, when I saw eneh leisurely return VICINITY OF SMYRNA. 309 his pistol to his belt, and resume his seat as com- posedly as if he had merely risen to pluck the orange that depended from the branch over his head. The company, so far from being thrown into con- fusion and uproar, continued silently to smoke their pipes ; the affair appeared not to furnish a topic of conversation sufficiently interesting to relieve the silence that ensued. This feature of the scene I liked ; it shows that the Mussulman, however irre- spective he may be of other salutary injunctions, strictly obeys what sailors call the eleventh command- ment thou shalt mind thine own business. Among the most pleasant rides in the vicinity of Smyrna, is that to Bournebat, leading through a suc- cession of vineyards and olive-groves, with the tulip and ranunculus blooming around in wild profusion. The village is ornamented with many elegant man- sions, belonging to merchants in Smyrna, who seek here -a refuge from the heat, dust, and noise of the town. We were here introduced into the summer residence of Mr. Ofley, the American Consul, to whose influence and hospitable attentions we were indebted for many pleasures, connected with our cruise in the Levant. His agency in establishing the relations which now exist between us and the Ottoman government, entitles him to the respect and gratitude of his country. Nor should I fail to mention here the many tokens of assiduous kindness which we received from our 310 SHIP AND SHORE. worthy countrymen, Messrs. Clark and Stith, mer- chants of a character and standing that do honor to America. Nor should I pass by the cheerful hearth and benevolent efforts of the Rev. Mr. Brewer. His schools are diffusing a spirit of intelligence and in- quiry among the Greeks, that will one day speak for itself. The favorable position of Smyrna for commerce, is the main source of its wealth and political impor- tance. It has been successively plundered by the" enemy, overthrown by the earthquake, depopulated by the plague, and consumed by the name ; but it has risen again to increased opulence and power, on the force of its commercial advantages. Alexander manifested his extraordinary shrewd- ness and judgment in its location. It would seem as if he intended to found a city that should survive all the hostile agents by which it could, in any pos- sible event, be assailed. It has been for centuries without fortress or wall ; and though often reduced, in its sad vicissitudes, to a ruin and a tomb, yet it now embraces the most dense and thriving popula- tion within the wide dominion of the Porte. The female beauty which once brought to it the sculptor and painter for originals, may in some mea- sure have disappeared ; but its commercial facilities have assembled within, it, from the most distant realms, another class of beings whose enterprise con tributes vastly more to its wealth and prosperity. It PARTING WITH THE READER. 311 may look with composure at its temporary misfor- tunes, for it must stand and thrive, so long as the caravans of Persia can move, the vintage of the teem- ing year come round, and the ship hold its course over the deep. Nor need any be deterred from a residence here by apprehensions of Turkish treachery and violence. The authority recognized in a Consular representa- tive is nowhere held more sacred and inviolable. Heads may fall like rain-drops from an April cloud, but beneath the flag of his country the foreigner is safe. It is an aegis which the most profane weapon of the Mussulman dares not touch. And now, reader, I must bid you adieu. But if you have not been too much offended with some of my hasty expressions, if you have been amused by the light incidents of my story, if over its simple pages your hours have passed with a less percepti- ble weight, meet me here again. That brilliant barge which rocks so lightly on the wave of this Bay is to take me and others to the strand of Ilium. Join our company, willing to be pleased, and I will show you the palace of Priam, Achilles' tomb, and Helen's gushing fount. We will then pass up between the wildly wooded shores of the Dardanelles, on to the bright bosom of the Marmora, and watch the city of Constantine, emerging in splendor from the wave. Glancing at its domes and its delicate minarets, we will wind our way up the 312 SIHP AND SHORE. Golden Horn into the valley of Sweet "Waters ; we will stray through the romantic dells of Belgrade along the beautiful banks of the Bosphorus, catch the traits of those who dwell there in oriental gayety, and returning, mount again to the deck of our ship, sail to the purple shores of Greece, Walk around among the magnificent ruins of Athens, and visit the sweet isles of the JEgean. All this I promise you, if you will accord me your company, and then you will find me more attentive than I have been less forgetful of your tastes, and less captious under my own slight provocations. But before we part, come with me down to the beach of this moon-lit bay, for at this still hour of the evening we have nothing to fear nothing can break on our solitude and let me tell you here, under the light of these sweet stars, what I love. I love to wander on the shore of ocean, To hear the light wave ripple on the beach ; For there's a music in their murm'ring motion, The softest sounds -of earth could never reach A'cadence breathing more of joy than plaint, Like the last whispers of a dying saint. I love to wander, on a star-lit night, Along the breathing margin of a lake, Whose tranquil bosom mirrors to 4he sight The dewy stars ; where not a wave nor wake Disturbs the slumbering surface, nor a sound Is heard from out the deep-hushed forest round. PARTING WITII THE READER. 313 The vesper-star sleeps in that silent water, So sweetly fair, so tenderly serene, You fondly think it is the bright-eyed daughter Of that pure element, and, breathless, lean To catch its beauty, as if bent above The ice of one you only live to love. THE END. MV YB / I I U. C. BERKELEY LIBRARIES i I