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THE GREATEST
WONDERS
OF THE
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REATEST
WONDERS
of the WORLD
AS SEEN AND DESCRIBED
BY FAMOUS WRITERS
EDITED AND TRANSLATED
By ESTHER SINGLETON
AUTHOR OF
"TURRETS, TOWERS AND TEMPLES,"' "GREAT PICTURES,"
"PARIS," AND "A GUIDE TO THE OPERA," AND TRANS-
LATOR OF THE MUSIC DRAMAS OF RICHARD WAGNER
WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS
NEW YORK
THE CHRISTIAN HERALD
LOUIS KLOPSCH, Proprietor
Nos. 91 to 115 BIBLE HOUSE
Copyright, 1900, By Dodd, Mead & Co.
Copyright, 1906, By Louis Klopsch
'^^/37^'^333
Preface
IN my former collections of objects of interest to the
tourist, I have confined myself to masterpieces of
painting and architecture. The success of those books has
encouraged me to carry the idea still further and make a
compilation of pleasurable and striking impressions pro-
duced upon thoughtful travellers by a contemplation of the
wonders of nature.
The range is somewhat limited, for I have confined my-
self to the description of the grand, the curious and the
awe-inspiring in nature, leaving the beauties of landscape
for future treatment. Those who miss the Lakes of Kil-
larney or the vine-clad hills of the Rhine therefore will re-
member that in the following pages I have purposely
neglected beautiful scenery.
The professional traveller, by which I mean the emissary
of a scientific society, appears very seldom here, because it
is the effect produced rather than the topographical or de-
tailed description that I have sought. I hope this book will
appeal to that large class of readers that takes pleasure in
travelling by imagination, as well as to those who have
actually seen the objects described and pictured here.
It is interesting to note the difference between the old
and the modern travellers. The day of the Marco Polos
vi PREFACE
has passed ; the traveller of old seemed to feel himself
under an obligation to record marvels and report trifling
details, while the modern traveller is more concerned about
describing or analyzing the effect produced upon himself.
He feels it encumbent upon him to exhibit aesthetic appre-
ciation. For this tendency we have to thank Gautier and
his humble follower D'Amicis. Thackeray and Dickens
write of their journeyings in a holiday spirit ; Kipling is a
stimulating combination of the flippant and the devout;
Shelley is quite up to date ; and Fromentin and Gautier always
speak in terms of the palette. Thus we get an additional
pleasure from the varied literary treatment of nature's
wonders — apart from their intrinsic interest.
Though there is a great deal of information in the fol-
lowing pages, I have generally avoided what is simply in-
structive ; my aim has been to suit all tastes.
For the kind permission to use The Mammoth Cave, Fust
San and The Jntarctic, and The Yellowstone, my best thanks
are due to Messrs. G. P. Putnam's Sons, Messrs. Long-
mans, Green and Co., and Mr. Rudyard Kipling.
E. S.
New York, September^ 190a
Contents
The Blue Grotto of Capri
Alexandre Dumas.
Mount Blanc and Chamouni
Percy Bysshe Shelley.
The Dead Sea
Pierre Loti.
Mount Vesuvius ....
Charles Dickens.
The Falls of the Rhine
Victor Hugo.
In Arctic and Antarctic Seas
I. Lord Dufferin.
II. W. G. Burn Murdock
The Desert of Sahara . . . ,
EucfeNE Fromentin.
Fingal's Cave ......
I. Sir Walter Scott.
II. John Keats.
In the Himalayas . . . . .
G. W. Steevens.
Niagara Falls ......
I. Anthony Trollope.
II. Charles Dickens.
Puji-San
Sir Edwin Arnold.
7
15
25
39
46
55
62
71
79
90
viu CONTENTS
The Cedars of Lebanon ....
Alphonse de Lamartine.
The Giant's Causeway ....
William Makepeace Thackeray
The Great Glacier of the Selkirks
Douglas Sladen.
Mauna Loa
TrollhAtta
Lady Brassey
Hans Christian Andersen.
The Grand Canyon of the Colorado .
C. F. Gordon— CuMMiNG.
The Rock of Gibraltar . . . .
Augustus J. C. Hare.
Thingvalla ......
Lord Dufferin.
Land's End and Logan Rock
John Ayrton Paris.
Mount Hekla ......
Sir Richard F. Burton.
Victoria Falls
David Livingstone.
The Dragon-Tree of Orotava
Alexander von Humboldt
Mount Shasta .....
J. W. Boddam-Wheatham.
The Lagoons of Venice
John Ruskin.
The Cataracts of the Nile
Amelia 6. Edwards.
In the Alps
Th^ophile Gautier.
CONTENTS
The Vale of Kashmir
Andrew Wilson
The Lake of Pitch ....
Charles Kingsley.
The Lachine Rapids ....
Douglas Sladen.
Lake Rotorua .....
H. R. Haweis.
The Big Trees of California
c. f. gordon-cumming.
Gersoppa Falls .....
W. M. YooL.
Etna ......
Alexandre Dumas.
Pike's Peak and the Garden of the Gods
Iza Duffus Hardy.
The Great Geysir of Iceland
Sir Richard F. Burton.
The Rapids of the Danube .
William Beattie.
The Mammoth Cave ....
Bayard Taylor.
Stromboli ......
Alexandre Dumas.
The High Woods ....
Charles Kingsley.
The Yo-sEMiTfe Valley
c. f. gordon-cumming.
The Golden Horn ....
Alphonse de Lamartine.
The Yellowstone ....
Rudyard Kipling.
IX
ZIZ
2 20
228
232
248
254
263
268
275
283
295
302
342
352
Illustrations
Mer de Glace, Mont Blanc Switzerland . Frontispiece
FACING PAOB
Blue Grotto Italy 4
Chamouni, Mer de Glace Switzerlattd 12
The Dead Sea Palestine 20
Mount Vesuvius Italy 28
The Falls of the Rhine ....... Germany 40
An Ice Floe Antarctic 52
The Desert of Sahara Africa 60
Fingal's Cave Scotland 64
The Himilavas India 72
Niagara Falls North America .... 80
Niagara Falls in Winter North America .... 88
Fuji-San Japan 92
The Cedars of Lebanon Syria 100
The Giant's Loom, Giant's Causeway . Ireland 104
The Keystone, Giant's Causeway . . . Ireland io8
The Great Glacier of THE Selkirks . Canada 116
Lava Cascade Flow Hawaii 124
TrollhXtta Sweden 132
Canyon of the Colorado North America . . . .136
The Rock of Gibraltar Spain 140
The Rock of Gibraltar Spain 144
Thingvalla Iceland 148
Rocking Stones, Land's End England 156
Falls of THE Zambesi Africa 172
The Dragon-Tree Teneriffe 180
Mount Shasta North America .... 184
The City of the Lagoons Italy 192
XH ILLUSTRATIONS
First Cataract of the Nile Africa 200
Mont Blanc Switzerland 208
Aiguille Du Dru, Alps Switzerland 210
The Vale OF Kashmir India 216
The Lachine Rapids Canada 228
Lake Rotorua New Zealand 232
The Big Trees of California North America .... 240
Gersoppa Falls India 248
Etna Sicily ,'256
The Garden of the Gods America 264
The Iron Gates of the Danube .... Turkey 280
The High Woods South America .... 304
The Yo-SEMiTt Valley] North America .... 328
The Golden Horn Turkey 344
Costing Springs, Yellowstone North America . . , . 352
WONDERS OF THE WORLD
THE BLUE GROTTO OF CAPRI
(ITALY)
ALEXANDRE DUMAS
WE were surrounded by five and twenty boatmen,
each of whom exerted himself to get our cus-
tom : these were the ciceroni of the Blue Grotto. I chose
one and Jadin another, for you must have a boat and a
boatman to get there, the opening being so low and so nar-
row that one cannot enter unless in a very small boat.
The sea was calm, nevertheless, even in this beautiful
weather it broke with such force against the belt of rocks
surrounding the island that our barks bounded as if in a
tempest, and we were obliged to lie down and cling to the
sides to avoid being thrown into the sea. At last, after
three-quarters of an hour of navigation, during which we
skirted about one-sixth of the island's circumference, our
boatmen informed us of our arrival. We looked about us,
but we could not perceive the slightest suspicion of a grotto
until we made out with difficulty a little black, circular
point above the foaming waves : this was the orifice of the
vault.
I
1 THE BLUE GROTTO OF CAPRI
The first sight of this entrance was not reassuring: you
could not understand how it was possible to clear it without
breaking your head against the rocks. As the question
seemed important enough for discussion, I put it to my
boatman, who replied that we were perfectly right in re-
maining seated now, but presently we must lie down to
avoid the danger. We had not come so far as this to flinch.
It was my turn first; my boatman advanced, rowing with
precaution and indicating that, accustomed as he was to the
work, he could not regard it as exempt from danger. As
for me, from the position that I occupied, I could see noth-
ing but the sky ; soon I felt myself rising upon a wave, the
boat slid down it rapidly, and I saw nothing but a rock that
seemed for a second to weigh upon my breast. Then, sud-
denly, I found myself in a grotto so marvellous that I gave
a cry of astonishment, and I jumped up so quickly to look
about me that I nearly capsized the boat.
In reality, before me, around me, above me, under me,
and behind me were marvels of which no description can
give an idea, and before which, the brush itself, the grand
preserver of human memories, is powerless. You must
imagine an immense cavern entirely of azure, just as if God
had amused himself by making a pavilion with fragments of
the firmament ; water so limpid, so transparent, and so
pure that you seemed floating upon dense air; from the
ceiling stalactites hanging like inverted pyramids; in the
background a golden sand mingled with submarine vegeta-
tion ; along the walls which were bathed by the water there
were trees of coral with irregular and dazzling branches; at
THE BLUE GROTTO OF CAPRI 3
the sea-entrance, a tiny point — a star — let in the half-light
that illumines this fairy palace ; finally, at the opposite end,
a kind of stage arranged like the throne of a splendid god-
dess who has chosen one of the wonders of the world for
her baths.
At this moment the entire grotto assumed a deeper hue,
darkening as the earth does when a cloud passes across the
sun at brightest noontide. It was caused by Jadin, who
entered in his turn and whose boat closed the mouth of the
cavern. Soon he was thrown near me by the force of the
wave that had lifted him up ; the grotto recovered its beauti-
ful shade of azure ; and his boat stopped tremblingly near
mine, for this sea, so agitated and obstreperous outside,
breathes here as serenely and gently as a lake.
In all probability the Blue Grotto was unknown to the
ancients. No poet speaks of it, and certainly, with their
marvellous imagination, the Greeks would not have neg-
lected making of it the palace of some sea-goddess with a
musical name and leaving some story to us. Suetonius,
who describes for us with so much detail the Thermes and
baths of Tiberius, would certainly have devoted a few
words to this natural pool which the old emperor would
doubtless have chosen as the theatre for some of his mon-
strous pleasures. No, the ocean must have been much
higher at that epoch than it is at present, and this marvel-
lous sea-cave was known only to Amphitrite and her court
of Sirens, Naiads, and Tritons.
But sometimes Amphitrite is angered with the indiscreet
travellers who follow her into this retreat, just as Diana
4 THE BLUE GROTTO OF CAPRI
was when surprised by Actason. At such times the sea
rises suddenly and closes the entrance so effectually that
those who have entered cannot leave. In this case, they
must wait until the wind, which has veered from east to
west, changes to south or north ; and it has even happened
that visitors, who have come to spend twenty minutes in
the Blue Grotto, have had to remain two, three, and, even
four, days. Therefore, the boatmen always carry with them
a certain portion of a kind of biscuit to nourish the prison-
ers in the event of such an accident. With regard to water,
enough filters through two or three places in the grotto to
prevent any fear of thirst. I bestowed a few reproaches
upon my boatman for having waited so long to apprise me
of so disquieting a fact ; but he replied with a charming
naivete :
" Dame ! excellence ! If we told this to the visitors at
first, only half would -come, and that would make the boat-
men angry."
I admit that after this accidental information, I was seized
with a certain uneasiness, on account of which I found the
Blue Grotto infinitely less delightful than it had appeared to
me at first. Unfortunately, my boatman had told me these
details just at the moment when I was undressing to bathe
in this water, which is so beautiful and transparent that to
attract the fisherman it would not need the song of Goethe's
poetical Undine. We were unwilling to waste any time in
preparations, and, wishing to enjoy ourselves as much as
possible, we both dived.
It is only when you are five or six feet below the surface
THE BLUE GROTTO OF CAPRI 5
of the water that you can appreciate its incredible purity.
Notwithstanding the liquid that envelops the diver, no de-
tail escapes him ; he sees everything, — the tiniest shell at
the base of the smallest stalactite of the arch, just as clearly
as if through the air; only each object assumes a deeper
hue.
At the end of a quarter of an hour, we clambered back
into our boats and dressed ourselves without having appar-
ently attracted one of the invisible nymphs of this watery
palace, who would not have hesitated, if the contrary had
been the case, to have kept us here twenty-four hours at
least. The fact was humiliating ; but neither of us pre-
tended to be a Telemachus, and so we took our departure.
We again crouched in the bottom of our respective canoes,
and we went out of the Blue Grotto with the same precau-
tions and the same good luck with which we had entered
it : only it was six minutes before we could open our eyes ;
the ardent glare of the sun blinded us. We had not gone
more than a hundred feet away from the spot we had
visited before it seemed to have melted into a dream.
We landed again at the port of Capri. While we were
settling our account with our boatmen, Pietro pointed out
a man lying down in the sunshine with his face in the sand.
This was the fisherman who nine or ten years ago discov-
ered the Blue Grotto while looking fox frutti di mare along
the rocks. He went immediately to the authorities of the
island to make his discovery known, and asked the privi-
lege of being the only one allowed to conduct visitors to
the new world he had found, and to have revenue from
6 THE BLUE GROTTO OF CAPRI
those visitors. The authorities, who saw in this discovery
a means of attracting strangers to their island, agreed to the
second proposition, and since that time this new Christopher
Columbus has lived upon his income and does not trouble
to conduct the visitors himself; this explains why he can
sleep as we see him. He is the most envied individual in
the island.
As we had seen all that Capri offered us in the way of
wonders, we stepped into our launch and regained the
Speronare^ which, profiting by several pufFs of the land
breeze, set sail and gently glided off in the direction of
Palermo.
Le Speronare : Impressions de Voyage (PariS;. ^836).
MONT BLANC AND CHAMOUNI
i SWITZERLAND')
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY
FROM Servoz three leagues remain to Chamouni —
Mont Blanc was before us — the Alps, with their
innumerable glaciers on high all around, closing in the
complicated windings of the single vale — forests inexpress-
ibly beautiful, but majestic in their beauty — intermingled
beech and pine, and oak, overshadowed our road, or re-
ceded, whilst lawns of such verdure as I have never seen
before occupied these openings, and gradually became
darker in their recesses. Mont Blanc was before us, but it
was covered with cloud ; its base furrowed with dreadful
gaps, was seen above. Pinnacles of snow intolerably
bright, part of the chain connected with Mont Blanc, shone
through the clouds at intervals on high. I never knew — I
never imagined what mountains were before. The im-
mensity of these aerial summits excited, when they sud-
denly burst upon the sight, a sentiment of extatic wonder,
not unallied to madness. And remember this was all one
scene, it all pressed home to our regard and our imagina-
tion. Though it embraced a vast extent of space, the
snowy pyramids which shot into the bright blue sky seemed
to overhang our path ; the ravine, clothed with gigantic
pines, and black with its depth below, so deep that the very
g MONT BLANC AND CHAMOUNI
roaring of the untameable Arve, which rolled through it
could not be heard above — all was as much our own, as if
we had been the creators of such impressions in the minds
of others as now occupied our own. Nature was the poet,
whose harmony held our spirits more breathless than that
of the divinest.
As we entered the valley of Chamouni (which in fact
may be considered as a continuation of those which we
have followed from Bonneville and Cluses) clouds hung
upon the mountains at the distance perhaps of 6,000 feet
from the earth, but so as effectually to conceal not only
Mont Blanc, but the other aiguilles^ as they call them here,
attached and subordinate to them. We were travelling
along the valley, when suddenly we heard a sound as of
the burst of smothered thunder rolling above ; yet there
was something earthly in the sound, that told us it could
not be thunder. Our guide hastily pointed out to us a part
of the mountain opposite, from whence the sound came.
It was an avalanche. We saw the smoke of its path
among the rocks, and continued to hear at intervals the
bursting of its fall. It fell on the bed of a torrent, which
it displaced, and presently we saw its tawny-coloured wa-
ters also spread themselves over the ravine, which was their
couch.
We did not, as we intended, visit the Glacier de Boisson
to-day, although it descends within a few minutes' walk of
the road, wishing to survey it at least when unfatigued.
We saw this glacier which comes close to the fertile plain,
as we passed, its surface was broken into a thousand unac-
MONT BLANC AND CHAMOUNI 9
countable figures : conical and pyramidical crystallizations,
more than fifty feet in height, rise from its surface, and
precipices of ice, of dazzling splendour, overhang the
woods and meadows of the vale. This glacier winds up-
wards from the valley, until it joins the masses of frost
from which it was produced above, winding through its
own ravine like a bright belt flung over the black region of
pines. There is more in all these scenes than mere mag-
nitude of proportion : there is a majesty of outline ; there
is an awful grace in the very colours which invest these
wonderful shapes — a charm which is peculiar to them, quite
distinct even from the reality of their unutterable greatness.
Yesterday morning we went to the source of the
Arveiron. It is about a league from this village ; the
river rolls forth impetuously from an arch of ice, and
spreads itself in many streams over a vast space of the val-
ley, ravaged and laid bare by its inundations. The glacier
by which its waters are nourished, overhangs this cavern
and the plain, and the forests of pine which surround it,
with terrible precipices of solid ice. On the other side
rises the immense glacier of Montanvert, fifty miles in ex-
tent, occupying a chasm among mountains of inconceivable
height, and of 'forms so pointed and abrupt, that they seem
to pierce the sky. From this glacier we saw as we sat on
a rock, close to one of the streams of the Arveiron, masses
of ice detach themselves from on high, and rush with a loud
dull noise into the vale. The violence of their fall turned
them into powder, which flowed over the rocks in imita-
tion of waterfalls, whose ravines they usurped and filled.
10 MONT BLANC AND CHAMOUNI
In the evening I went with Ducree, my guide, the only
tolerable person I have seen in this country, to visit the
glacier of Boisson. This glacier, like that of Montanvert,
comes close to the vale, overhanging the green meadows
and the dark woods with the dazzling whiteness of its prec-
ipices and pinnacles, which are like spires of radiant crystal
covered with a network of frosted silver. These glaciers
flow perpetually into the valley, ravaging in their slow but
irresistible progress the pastures and the forests which sur-
round them, performing a work of desolation in ages,
which a river of lava might accomplish in an hour, but far
more irretrievably ; for where the ice has once descended,
the hardiest plant refuses to grow ; if even, as in some ex-
traordinary instances, it should recede after its progress has
once commenced. The glaciers perpetually move onward,
at the pate of a foot each day, with a motion that com-
mences at the spot where, on the boundaries of perpetual
congelation, they are produced by the freezing of the waters
which arise from the partial melting of the eternal snows.
They drag with them from the regions whence they derive
their origin, all the ruins of the mountain, enormous rocks,
and immense accumulations of sand and stones. These are
driven onwards by the irresistible stream of solid ice ; and
when they arrive at a declivity of the mountain, sufficiently
rapid, roll down, scattering ruin. I saw one of these rocks
which had descended in the spring (winter here is the sea-
son of silence and safety) which measured forty feet in
every direction.
The verge of a glacier, like that of Boisson, presents the
MONT BLANC AND CHAMOUNI II
most vivid image of desolation that it is possible to con-
ceive. No one dares to approach it ; for the enormous
pinnacles of ice which perpetually fall, are perpetually re-
produced. The pines of the forest, vi^hich bound it at one
extremity, are overthrow^n and shattered to a wide extent at
its base. There is something inexpressibly dreadful in the
aspect of the few branchless trunks, which, nearest to the
ice rifts, still stand in the uprooted soil. The meadows
perish, overwhelmed with sand and stones. Within this
last year, these glaciers have advanced three hundred feet
into the valley. Saussure, the naturalist, says, that they
have their periods of increase and decay : the people of the
country hold an opinion entirely different ; but as I judge,
more probable. It is agreed by all, that the snow on the
summit of Mont Blanc and the neighbouring mountains
perpetually augments, and that ice, in the form of glaciers,
subsists without melting in the valley of Chamouni during
its transient and variable summer. If the snow which pro-
duces this glacier must augment, and the heat of the valley
is no obstacle to the perpetual existence of such masses of
ice as have already descended into it, the consequence is
obvious ; the glaciers must augment and will subsist, at
least until they have overflowed this vale.
I will not pursue Buffon's sublime but gloomy theory —
that this globe which we inhabit will at some future period
be changed into a mass of frost by the encroachment of the
polar ice, and of that produced on the most elevated points
of the earth. Do you, who assert the supremacy of Ahri-
man, imagine him throned among these desolating snows,
12 MONT BLANC AND CHAMOUNI
among these palaces of death and frost, so sculptured in this
their terrible magnificence by the adamantine hand of
necessity, and that he casts around him, as the first essays
of his final usurpation, avalanches, torrents, rocks, and
thunders, and above all these deadly glaciers, at once the
proof and symbols of his reign ; — add to this, the degrada-
tion of the human species — vi^ho in these regions are half-
deformed or idiotic, and most of whom are deprived of any-
thing that can excite interest or admiration. This is a part
of the subject more mournful and less sublime ; but such
as neither the poet nor the philosopher should disdain to
regard.
This morning we departed on the promise of a fine day,
to visit the glacier of Montanvert. In that part where it
fills a slanting valley, it is called the Sea of Ice. This val-
ley is 950 toises, or 7,600 feet above the level of the sea.
We had not proceeded far before the rain began to fall, but
we persisted until we had accomplished more than half of
our journey, when we returned, wet through.
Chamouni, July 25th.
We have returned from visiting the glacier of Montan-
vert, or as it is called, the Sea of Ice, a scene in truth of
dizzying wonder. The path that winds to it along the
side of a mountain, now clothed with pines, now intersected
with snowy hollows, is wide and steep. The cabin of
Montanvert is three leagues from Chamouni, half of which
distance is performed on mules, not so sure footed, but that
on the first day the one I rode fell in what the guides call a
MONT BLANC AND CHAMOUNI 1 3
mauvais pas^ so that I narrowly escaped being precipitated
down the mountain. We passed over a hollow covered
with snow, down which vast stones are accustomed to roll.
One had fallen the preceding day, a little time after we had
returned : our guides desired us to pass quickly, for it is said
that sometimes the least sound will accelerate their descent.
We arrived at Montanvert, however, safe.
On all sides precipitous mountains, the abodes of unre-
lenting frost, surround this vale : their sides are banked up
with ice and snow, broken, heaped high, and exhibiting ter-
rific chasms. The summits are sharp and naked pinnacles,
whose overhanging steepness will not even permit snow to
rest upon them. Lines of dazzling ice occupy here and
there their perpendicular rifts, and shine through the driving
vapours with inexpressible brilliance : they pierce the clouds
like things not belonging to this earth. The vale itself is
filled with a mass of undulating ice, and has an ascent suf-
ficiently gradual even to the remotest abysses of these hor-
rible deserts. It is only half a league (about two miles) in
breadth, and seems much less. It exhibits an appearance as
if frost had suddenly bound up the waves and whirlpools of
a mighty torrent. We walked some distance upon its sur-
face. The waves are elevated about twelve or fifteen feet
from the surface of the mass, which is intersected by long
gaps of unfathomable depth, the ice of whose sides is more
beautifully azure than the sky. In these regions every-
thing changes, and is in motion. This vast mass of ice has
one general progress, which ceases neither day nor night;
it breaks and bursts forever : some undulations sink while
14 MONT BLANC AND CHAMOUNI
Others rise , it is never the same. The echo of rocks, or
of the ice and snow which fall from their overhanging
precipices, or roll from their aerial summits, scarcely ceases
for one moment. One would think that Mont Blanc, like
the god of the Stoics, was a vast animal, and that the
frozen blood forever circulated through his stony veins.
Prose works (London, 1880).
THE DEAD SEA
{PALESTINE)
PIERRE LOTI
A SOUND of church bells follows us for a long time
in the lonely country as we ride away on horse-
back in the early morning towards Jericho, towards the
Jordan and the Dead Sea. The Holy City speedily disap-
pears from our eyes, hidden behind the Mount of Olives.
There are fields of green barley here and there, but principally
regions of stones and asphodels. Nowhere are there any
trees. Red anemones and violet irises enamel the greyness
of the rough country, all rock and desert. By a series of
gorges, valleys, and precipices we follow a gradually de-
scending route. Jerusalem is at an altitude of eight hundred
metres and this Dead Sea to which we are going is four
hundred metres below the level of other seas.
If it were not for this way for vehicles upon which our
horses walk so easily, one would be tempted to call it every
now and then Idumaea, or Arabia.
This road to Jericho is, moreover, full of people to-day :
Bedouins upon camels ; Arabian shepherds driving hundreds
of black goats ; bands of Cook's tourists on horseback, or
in mule-chairs ; Russian pilgrims, who are returning on
foot from the Jordan, piously carrying gourds filled with
water from the sacred river j numerous troops of Greek
1 6 THE DEAD SEA
pilgrims from the island of Cyprus, upon asses ; incon-
gruous caravans and strange groups which we overtake or
meet.
It is soon midday. The high mountains of the country
of Moab which lie beyond the Dead Sea, and which we
have seen ever since we reached Hebron like a diaphanous
wall in the east seem to be as distant as ever, although for
three hours we have been advancing towards them, — ap-
parently fleeing before us like the visions of a mirage. But
they have grown misty and gloomy ; all that was trailing in
the sky like light veils in the morning has gathered and
condensed upon their peaks, while a purer and more mag-
nificent blue now extends above our heads.
Half-way from Jericho, we make the great halt in a
caravansary, where there are Bedouins, Syrians, and Greeks ;
then we again mount our horses beneath a burning sun.
Every now and then, in the yawning gulfs far below us
the torrent of the Cedron is visible like a thread of foaming
silver; its course here is not troubled as beneath the walls
of Jerusalem, and it rushes along rapidly towards the Dead
Sea, half-hidden in the deepest hollows of the abysses.
The mountain slopes continue to run down towards this
strange and unique region, situated below the level of the
sea, where sleep the waters which produce death. It
seems that one is made conscious of something abnormal in
this continuous descent by some unknown sense of oddity
and even giddiness suggested by these slopes. Growing
more and more grand and rugged, the country now pre-
sents almost the appearance of a true desert. But the
THE DEAD SEA 1 7
impression of immeasurable solitude is not experienced
here. And then there is always that road traced by human
hands and these continual meetings with horsemen and
various passengers.
The air is already dryer and warmer than at Jerusalem,
and the light becomes more and more magnifying, — as is
always the case when one approaches places devoid of
vegetation.
The mountains are ever more and more denuded and
more cracked by the dryness, opening everywhere with
crevasses like great abysses. The heat increases in pro-
portion as we descend to the shore of the Dead Sea which
in summer is one of the hottest places in the world. A
mournful sun darts its rays around us upon the rocks,
masses of stone, and pale limestone where the lizards run
about by the thousand ; whilst over beyond us, serving as
a background for everything, stands ever the chain of Moab,
like a Dantesque wall. And to-day storm-clouds darken
and deform it, hiding its peaks, or carrying them up too
high into the sky and forming other imaginary peaks, thus
producing the terror of chaos.
In a certain deep valley, through which our way lies for
a moment, shut in without any view between vertical walls,
some hundreds of camels are at pasture, hanging like great
fantastic goats to the flanks of the mountains, — the highest
perched one of all the troop silhouetted against the sky.
Then we issue from this defile and the mountains of
Moab reappear, higher then ever now and more obscured
by clouds. Upon this sombre background the near pro-
ig THE DEAD SEA
spective of this desolate country stands out very clearly ; the
summits are whitish and all around us blocks, absolutely
white, are delineated by the broiling sun with an extreme
hardness of outline.
Towards three o'clock, from the elevated regions where
we still are, we see before us the country that is lower than
the sea, and, as if our eyes had preserved the remembrance
of ordinary levels, this really seems not an ordinary plain,
but something too low and a great depression of the earth,
the bottom of a vast gulf into which the road is about to
fall.
This sunken region has the features of the desert, with
gleaming grey wastes like fields of lava, or beds of salt ; in
its midst an unexpectedly green patch, which is the oasis of
Jericho, — and towards the south, a motionless expanse with
the polish of a mirror and the sad hue of slate, which be-
gins and loses itself in the distance with a limitless horizon :
the Dead Sea, enwrapped in darkness to-day by all the
clouds of the distance, by all that is heavy and opaque
yonder weighing upon the border of Moab.
The few little white houses of Jericho are gradually out-
lined in the green of the oasis in proportion as we descend
from our stony summits, inundated with the sun. One
would hardly call it a village. It seems that there is not
the least vestige of the three large and celebrated cities that
formerly successively occupied this site and that in different
ages were called Jericho. These utter destructions and
annihilations of the cities of Canaan and Idumaea seem to
be for the confounding of human reason. Truly a very
THE DEAD SEA 1 9
powerful breath of malediction and death must have passed
over it all.
When we are finally down in the plain, an insufferable
heat surprises us ; one would say that we had traversed an
immense distance southward, — and yet, in reality, we have
only descended a few hundred metres towards the bowels of
the earth : it is to their depressed level that the environs of
the Dead Sea owe their exceptional climate.
Jericho is composed to-day of a little Turkish citadel,
three or four new houses built for pilgrims and tourists,
half a hundred Arab habitations of mud with roofing of
thorny branches and a few Bedouin tents. Round about
them are gardens in which grow an occasional palm ; a
wood of green shrubs traversed by clear brooks ; some paths
overrun by grass, where horsemen in burnous caracole upon
their horses with long manes and tails. And that is all.
Immediately beyond the wood the uninhabitable desert be-
gins ; and the Dead Sea lies there very near, spreading its
mysterious winding-sheet above the engulfed kingdoms of
Sodom and Gomorrah. This Sea has a very individual as-
pect, and this evening it is very funereal; it truly gives the
impression of death, with its heavy, leaden, and motionless
waters between the deserts of its two shores where great
confused mountains mingle with the storm-clouds hanging
in the sky.
Sunday, April 8th.
From Jericho, where we passed the night, the Dead Sea
seems very near ; one would think in a few minutes it would
20 THE DEAD SEA
be easy to reach its tranquil sheet, — which this morning is
of a blue barely tinted with slate, under a sky rid of all of
yesterday's clouds. Yet, to reach it, almost two hours on
horseback are still required, under a heavy sun, across the
little desert which, minus the immensity, resembles the large
one in which we have just spent so many days ; towards
this Sea, which seems to flee in proportion as we approach,
we descend by means of a series of exhausted strata and des-
olate plateaux, all glittering with sand and salt. Here we
find a few of the odoriferous plants of Arabia Petrasa, and
even the semblance of a mirage, the uncertainty as to dis-
tances and the continual tremulousness of the horizon.
We also find here a band of Bedouins resembling very
closely our friends of the desert in their shirts with long
pointed sleeves floating like wings, and their little brown
veils tied to the forehead with black cords, the two
ends of which stand up on the temples like the ears of an
animal. Moreover, these shores of the Dead Sea, espe-
cially on the southern side, are frequented by pillagers al-
most as much as Idumaea.
We know that geologists trace the existence of the Dead
Sea back to the first ages of the world ; they do not contest,
however, that at the period of the destruction of the ac-
cursed cities it must have suddenly overflowed, after some
new eruption, to cover the site of the Moabite pentapolis.
And it was at that time that was engulfed all this " Vale of
Siddim," where were assembled, against Chedorlaomer, the
kings of Sodom, of Gomorrah, of Admah, of Zeboiim, and
of Zoar (Genesis xiv. 2, 3) j all that " plain of Siddim" which
THE DEAD SEA 21
" was well watered everywhere," like a garden of delight
{^Genesis xiii. lo). Since these remote times, this Sea has
receded a little, without, however, its form being sensibly
changed. And, beneath the shroud of its heavy waters,
unfathomable to the diver by their very density, sleep strange
ruins, debris^ which, without doubt, will never be explored ;
Sodom and Gomorrah are there, buried in their dark
depths.
At present, the Dead Sea, terminated at the north by the
sands we cross, extends to a length of about eighty kilo-
metres, between two ranges of parallel mountains : to the
east, those of Moab, eternally oozing bitumen, which stand
this morning in their sombre violet ; to the west, those of
Judea, of another nature, entirely of whitish limestone, at
this moment dazzling with sunlight. On both shores the
desolation is equally absolute ; the same silence hovers over
the same appearances of death. These are indeed the im-
mutable and somewhat terrifying aspects of the desert, —
and one can understand the very intense impression pro-
duced upon travellers who do not know the Arabia Magna;
but, for us, there is here only a too greatly diminished
image of the mournful phantasmagoria of that region. Be-
sides, one does not lose altogether the view of the citadel
of Jericho; from our horses we may still perceive it be-
hind us, like a vague little white point, but still a protector.
In the extreme distance of the desert sands, under the
trembling network of mirage, appears also an ancient for-
tress, which is a monastery for Greek hermits. And,
finally, another white blot, just perceptible above us, in a
22 THE DEAD SEA
recess of the mountains of Judah, stands that mausoleum
which passes for the tomb of Moses — for which a great
Mohammedan pilgrimage is soon about to start.
However, upon the sinister strand where we arrive, death
reveals itself, truly sovereign and imposing. First, like a
line of defence which it is necessary to surmount, comes a
belt of drift-wood, branches and trees stripped of all bark,
almost petrified in the chemical bath, and whitened like
bones, — one would call them an accumulation of great
vertebrae. Then there are some rounded pebbles as on the
shore of every sea; but not a single shell, not a piece of
seaweed, not even a little greenish slime, nothing organic,
not even of the lower order; and nowhere else has this
ever been seen, a sea whose bed is as sterile as a crucible
of alchemy ; this is something abnormal and disconcerting.
Some dead fish lie here and there, hardened like wood,
mummified in the naptha and the salts : fish of the Jor-
dan which the current brought here and which the accursed
waters suffocated instantly.
And before us, this sea flees, between its banks of des-
ert mountains, to the troubled horizon with an appearance
of never ending. Its whitish, oily waters bear blots of
bitumen, spread in large iridescent rings. Moreover, they
burn, if you drink them, like a corrosive liquor ; if you
enter them up to your knees you have difficulty in walking,
they are so heavy ; you cannot dive in them nor even
swim in the ordinary position, but you can float upon the
surface like a cork buoy.
Once the Emperor Titus, as an experiment, had several
THE DEAD SEA 23
slaves bound together with iron chains and cast in, and they
did not drown.
On the eastern shore, in the little sandy desert where we
have just been marching for two hours, a line of a beauti-
ful emerald serpentines ; a few flocks and a few Arabian
shepherds that are half bandits pass in the far distance.
Towards the middle of the day we reenter Jericho,
whence we shall not depart until to-morrow morning, and
there remain the tranquil hours of the evening for us to go
over the still oasis.
When we are seated before the porch of the little inn of
Jericho in the warm twilight, we see a wildly galloping
horse, bringing a monk in a black robe with long hair
floating in the wind. He is one of the hermits of the
Mount of the Forty Days, who is trying to be the first to
arrive and offer us some little objects in the wood of Jeri-
cho and shell rosaries from the Jordan. — At nightfall others
come, dressed in the same black robe, and with the same
thin hair around their bandit's countenance, and enter the
inn to entice us with little carvings and similar chaplets.
The night is sultry here, and a little heavy, quite differ-
ent to the cold nights of Jerusalem, and just as the stars
begin to shine a concert of frogs begins simultaneously
from every side, under the dark entanglement of the balms
of Gilead, — so continuous and, moreover, so discreet is it,
that it seems but another expression of the tranquil silence.
You hear also the barking of the sheep-dogs, below, on the
side of the Arabian encampments ; then, very far away,
the drum and the little Bedouin flute furnish the rhythm
24 THE DEAD SEA
for some wild fete ; — and, at intervals, but very distinctly,
comes the lugubrious falsetto of a hyena or jackal.
Now, here is the unexpected refrain of the coffee-houses
of Berlin, which suddenly bursts forth, in ironical disso-
nance, in the midst of these light and immutable sounds of
ancient evenings in Judea : the German tourists who have
been here since sunset, encamped under the tents of agen-
cies ; a band of " Cook's tourists " come to see and pro-
fane, as far as they can, this little desert.
It is after midnight, when everything is hushed and the
silence belongs to the nightingales which fill the oasis with
an exquisite and clear music of crystal.
'Jerusalem (Paris, 1895).
MOUNT VESUVIUS
i ITALY)
CHARLES DICKENS
A NOBLE mountain pass, with the ruins of a fort on
a strong eminence, traditionally called the Fort of
Fra Diavolo ; the old town of Itri, like a device in pastry,
built up, almost perpendicularly, on a hill, and approached
by long steep flights of steps ; beautiful Mola di Gaeta,
whose wines, like those of Albano, have degenerated since
the days of Horace, or his taste for wine was bad : which is
not likely of one who enjoyed it so much, and extolled it
so well ; another night upon the road at St. Agatha ; a rest
next day at Capua, which is picturesque, but hardly so se-
ductive to a traveller now as the soldiers of Prstorian Rome
were wont to find the ancient city of that name ; a flat road
among vines festooned and looped from tree to tree ; and
Mount Vesuvius close at hand at last ! — its cone and summit
whitened with snow ; and its smoke hanging over it, in the
heavy atmosphere of the day, like a dense cloud. So we
go, rattling down-hill, into Naples.
Capri — once made odious by the deified beast Tiberius —
Ischia, Procida, and the thousand distant beauties of the
Bay, lie in the blue sea yonder, changing in the mist and
sunshine twenty times a day : now close at hand, now far
off, now unseen. The fairest country in the world is
26 MOUNT VESUVIUS
spread about us. Whether we turn towards the Miseno
shore of the splendid watery amphitheatre, and go by the
Grotto of Posilipo to the Grotto del Cane, and away to
Baiae : or take the other way, towards Vesuvius and Sor-
rento, it is one succession of delights. In the last-named
direction, where, over doors and archways, there are count-
less little images of San Gennaro, with his Canute's hand
stretched out to check the fury of the Burning Mountain,
we are carried pleasantly, by a railroad on the beautiful Sea
Beach, past the town of Torre del Greco, built upon the
ashes of the former town, destroyed by an eruption of Vesu-
vius, within a hundred years, and past the flat-roofed houses,
granaries, and macaroni manufactories ; to Castel-a-Mare,
with its ruined castle, now inhabited by fishermen, standing
in the sea upon a heap of rocks. Here, the railroad termi-
nates ; but, hence we may ride on, by an unbroken succes-
sion of enchanting bays, and beautiful scenery, sloping
from the highest summit of St. Angelo, the highest neigh-
bouring mountain, down to the water's edge — among vine-
yards, olive-trees, gardens of oranges and lemons, orchards,
heaped-up rocks, green gorges in the hills — and by the bases
of snow-covered heights, and through small towns with
handsome, dark-haired women at the doors — and pass de-
licious summer villas — to Sorrento, where the poet Tasso
drew his inspiration from the beauty surrounding him.
Returning, we may climb the heights above Castel-a-Mare,
and, looking down among the boughs and leaves, see the
crisp water glistening in the sun, and clusters of white
houses in distant Naples, dwindling, in the great extent of
MOUNT VESUVIUS 27
prospect, down to dice. The coming back to the city, by
the beach again, at sunset : with the glowing sea on one
side, and the darkening mountain, with its smoke and
flame, upon the other, is a sublime conclusion to the glory
of the day.
Stand at the bottom of the great market-place of Pompeii,
and look up the silent streets, through the ruined temples
of Jupiter and Isis, over the broken houses with their in-
most sanctuaries open to the day, away to Mount Vesuvius,
bright and snowy in the peaceful distance ; and lose all
count of time, and heed of other things, in the strange and
melancholy sensation of seeing the Destroyed and the De-
stroyer making this quiet picture in the sun. Then, ram-
ble on, and see, at every turn, the little familiar tokens of
human habitation and every-day pursuits ; the chafing of
the bucket rope in the stone rim of the exhausted well ; the
track of carriage wheels in the pavement of the street ; the
marks of drinking vessels on the stone counter of the wine-
shop ; the amphorae in private cellars, stored away so many
hundred years ago, and undisturbed to this hour — all ren-
dering the solitude and deadly lonesomeness of the place
ten thousand times more solemn, than if the volcano, in its
fury, had swept the city from the earth, and sunk it in the
bottom of the sea.
After it was shaken by the earthquake which preceded
the eruption, workmen were employed in shaping out, in
stone, new ornaments for temples and other buildings that
had suffered. Here lies their work, outside the city gate,
as if they would return to-morrow.
28 MOUNT VESUVIUS
In the cellar of Diomede's house, where certain skeletons
were found huddled together, close to the door, the impres-
sion of their bodies on the ashes hardened with the ashes,
and became stamped and fixed there, after they had shrunk,
inside, to scanty bones. So, in the theatre of Herculaneum,
a comic mask, floating on the stream when it was hot and
liquid, stamped its mimic features in it as it hardened into
stone, and now it turns upon the stranger the fantastic look
it turned upon the audiences in that same theatre two thou-
sand years ago.
Next to the wonder of going up and down the streets,
and in and out of the houses, and traversing the secret
chambers of the temples of a religion that has vanished
from the earth, and finding so many fresh traces of remote
antiquity : as if the course of Time had been stopped after
this desolation, and there had been no nights and days,
months, years, and centuries since : nothing is more im-
pressive and terrible than the many evidences of the search-
ing nature of the ashes as bespeaking their irresistible
power, and the impossibility of escaping them. In the
wine-cellars, they forced their way into the earthen vessels :
displacing the wine, and choking them, to the brim, with
dust. In the tombs, they forced the ashes of the dead from
the funeral urns, and rained new ruin even into them. The
mouths, and eyes, and skulls of all the skeletons were
stuffed with this terrible hail. In Herculaneum, where the
flood was of a different and a heavier kind, it rolled in, like
a sea. Imagine a deluge of water turned to marble, at its
height — and that is what is called " the lava " here.
MOUNT VESUVIUS 29
?ome workmen were digging the gloomy well on the
brink of which we now stand, looking down, when they
came on some of the stone benches of the theatre — those
steps (for such they seem) at the bottom of the excavation
— and found the buried city of Herculaneum. Presently
going down, with lighted torches, we are perplexed by great
walls of monstrous thickness, rising up between the benches,
shutting out the stage, obtruding their shapeless forms in
absurd places, confusing the whole plan, and making it a
disordered dream. Wc cannot, at first, believe, or picture
to ourselves, that this came rolling in, and drowned the
city ; and that all that is not here has been cut away, by
the axe, like solid stone. But this perceived and under-
stood, the horror and oppression of its presence are inde-
scribable.
Many of the paintings on the walls in the roofless cham-
bers of both cities, or carefully removed to the museum at
Naples, are as fresh and plain as if they had been executed
yesterday. Here are subjects of still life, as provisions,
dead game, bottles, glasses, and the like ; familiar classical
stories, or mythological fables, always forcibly and plainly
told ; conceits of cupids, quarrelling, sporting, working at
trades ; theatrical rehearsals ; poets reading their produc-
tions to their friends ; inscriptions chalked upon the walls ;
political squibs, advertisements, rough drawings by school-
boys; everything to people and restore the ancient cities in
the fancy of their wondering visitor. Furniture, too, you
see, of every kind — lamps, tables, couches ; vessels for
eating, drinking, and cooking; workmen's tools, surgical
30 MOUNT VESUVIUS
instruments, tickets for the theatre, pieces of money,
personal ornaments, bunches of keys found clinched in
the grasp of skeletons, helmets of guards and warriors ;
little household bells, yet musical with their old domestic
tones.
The least among these objects, lends its aid to swell the
interests of Vesuvius, and invest it with a perfect fascina-
tion. The looking, from either ruined city, into the
neighbouring grounds overgrown with beautiful vines and
luxuriant trees ; and remembering that house upon house,
temple on temple, building after building, and street after
street, are still lying underneath the roots of all the quiet
cultivation, waiting to be turned up to the light of day ; is
something so wonderful, so full of mystery, so captivating
to the imagination, that one would think it would be para-
mount, and yield to nothing else. To nothing but Ve-
suvius; but the mountain is the genius of the scene.
From every indication of the ruin it has worked, we look,
again, with an absorbing interest to where its smoke is
rising up into the sky. It is beyond us, as we thread the
ruined streets : above us, as we stand upon the ruined
walls ; we follow it through every vista of broken columns,
as we wander through the empty court-yards of the houses ;
and through the garlandings and interlacings of every
wanton vine. Turning away to Paestum yonder, to see
the awful structures built, the least aged of them hundreds
of years before the birth of Christ, and standing yet, erect
in lonely majesty, upon the wild malaria-blighted plain — we
wafch Vesuvius as it disappears from vhe prospect, and
MOUNT VESUVIUS 3 1
watch for it again, on our return, with the same thrill of
interest : as the doom and destiny of all this beautiful
country, biding its terrible time.
It is very warm in the sun, on this early spring day,
when we return from Paestum, but very cold in the shade :
insomuch, that although we may lunch pleasantly, at noon,
in the open air, by the gate of Pompeii, the neighbouring
rivulet supplies thick ice for our wine. But, the sun is
shining brightly ; there is not a cloud or speck of vapour in
the whole blue sky, looking down upon the Bay of Naples j
and the moon will be at the full to-night. No matter that
the snow and ice lie thick upon the summit of Vesuvius, or
that we have been on foot all day at Pompeii, or that
croakers maintain that strangers should not be on the
mountain by night, in such an unusual season. Let us
take advantage of the fine weather ; make the best of our
way to Resina, the little village at the foot of the moun-
tain; prepare ourselves, as well as we can on so short a
notice, at the guide's house ; ascend at once, and have sun-
set half-way up, moonlight at the top, and midnight to
come down in !
At four o'clock in the afternoon there is a terrible uproar
in the little stable-yard of Signore Salvatore, the recognized
head-guide, with the gold band around his cap ; and thirty
under-guides, who are all scuffling and screaming at once,
are preparing half-a-dozen saddled ponies, three litters, and
some stout staves for the journey. Every one of the thirty
quarrels with the other twenty-nine, and frightens the six
ponies ; and as much of the village as can possibly squeeze
32 MOUNT VESUVIUS
itself into the little stable-yard participates in the tumult,
and gets trodden on by the cattle.
After much violent skirmishing, and more noise than
would suffice for the storming of Naples, the procession
starts. The head-guide, who is liberally paid for all the
attendants, rides a little in advance of the party ; the other
thirty guides proceed on foot. Eight go forward with the
litters that are to be used by and by ; and the remaining
two-and-twenty beg.
We ascend, gradually, by stony lanes like rough broad
flights of stairs, for some time. At length, we leave these,
and the vineyards on either side of them, and emerge upon
a bleak, bare region, where the lava lies confusedly in enor-
mous rusty masses : as if the earth had been plowed up
by burning thunder-bolts. And now we halt to see the sun
set. The change that falls upon the dreary region, and on
the whole mountain, as its red light fades, and the night
comes on — and the unutterable solemnity and dreariness
that reign around, who that has witnessed it can ever forget !
It is dark when, after winding for some time over the
broken ground, we arrive at the foot of the cone : which is
extremely steep, and seems to rise, almost perpendicularly,
from the spot where we dismount. The only light is re-
flected from the snow, deep, hard, and white, with which
the cone is covered. It is now intensely cold, and the air
is piercing. The thirty-one have brought no torches,
knowing that the moon will rise before we reach the top.
Two of the litters are devoted to the two ladies ; the third,
to a rather heavy gentleman from Naples, whose hospitality
MOUNT VESUVIUS 33
and good nature have attached him to the expedition, and
determined him to assist in doing the honours of the moun-
tain. The rather heavy gentleman is carried by fifteen
men ; each of the ladies by half-a-dozen. We who walk
make the best use of our staves ; and so the whole party
begin to labour upward over the snow — as if they were
toiling to the summit of an antediluvian Twelfth-cake.
We are a long time toiling up ; and the head-guide looks
oddly about him when one of the company — not an Italian,
though an habitue of the mountain for many years : whom
we will call, for our present purpose, Mr. Pickle of Portici
— suggests that, as it is freezing hard, and the usual footing
of ashes is covered by the snow and ice, it will surely be
difficult to descend. But the sight of the litters above,
tilting up and down, and jerking from this side to that, as
the bearers continually slip and tumble, diverts our atten-
tion ; more especially as the whole length of the rather
heavy gentleman is, at that moment, presented to us alarm-
ingly foreshortened, with his head downward.
The rising of the moon soon afterward, revives the flag-
ging spirits of the bearers. Stimulating each other with
their usual watchword, " Courage, friend ! It is to eat
macaroni ! " they press on, gallantly, for the summit.
P>om tingeing the top of the snow above us with a band
of light, and pouring it in a stream through the valley be-
low, while we have been ascending in the dark, the moon
soon lights the whole white mountain-side, and the broad
sea down below, and tiny Naples in the distance, and every
vill^e in the country round. The whole prospect is in
34 MOUNT VESUVIUS
this lovely state, when we come upon the platform on the
mountain-top — the region of Fire — an exhausted crater
formed of great masses of gigantic cinders, like blocks of
stone from some tremendous waterfall, burned up; from
every chink and crevice of which hot, sulphurous smoke is
pouring out : while, from another conical-shaped hill, the
present crater, rising abruptly from this platform at the end,
great sheets of fire are streaming forth : reddening the night
with flame, blackening it with smoke, and spotting it with
red-hot stones and cinders, that fly up into the air like
feathers, and fall down like lead. What words can paint
the gloom and grandeur of this scene !
The broken ground ; the smoke ; the sense of suffocation
from the sulphur; the fear of falling down through the
crevices in the yawning ground ; the stopping, every now
and then, for somebody who is missing in the dark (for the
dense smoke now obscures the moon) ; the intolerable noise
of the thirty ; and the hoarse roaring of the mountain ;
make it a scene of such confusion, at the same time, that
we reel again. But, dragging the ladies through it, and
across another exhausted crater to the foot of the present
Volcano, we approach close to it on the windy side, and
then sit down among the hot ashes at its foot, and look up
in silence; faintly estimating the action that is going on
within, from its being full a hundred feet higher, at this
minute, than it was six weeks ^o.
There is something in the fire and roar that generates an
irresistible desire to get nearer to it. We cannot rest long,
without starting off, two of us, on our hands and knees.
MOUNT VESUVIUS 35
accompanied by the head-guide, to climb to the brim of the
flaming crater, and try to looic in. Meanwhile, the thirty
yell, as with one voice, that it is a dangerous proceeding,
and call to us to come back; frightening the rest of the
party out of their wits.
What with their noise, and what with the trembling of
the thin crust of ground, that seems about to open under-
neath our feet, and plunge us into the burning gulf below
(which is the real danger, if there be any) ; and what with
the flashing of the fire in our faces, and the shower of red-
hot ashes that is raining down, and the choking smoke and
sulphur ; we may well feel giddy and irrational, like drunken
men. But, we contrive to climb up to the brim, and look
down, for a moment, into the Hell of boiling fire below.
Then, we all three come rolling down ; blackened, and
singed, and scorched, and hot, and giddy : and each with
his dress alight in half-a-dozen places.
You have read, a thousand times, that the usual way of
descending is by sliding down the ashes : which, forming a
gradually increasing ledge below the feet, prevent too rapid
a descent. But, when we have crossed the two exhausted
craters on our way back, and are come to this precipitous
place, there is (as Mr. Pickle has foretold) no vestige of
ashes to be seen ; the whole being a smooth sheet of ice.
In this dilemma, ten or a dozen of the guides cautiously
join hands, and make a chain of men ; of whom the fore-
most beat, as well as they can, a rough track with their
sticks, down which we prepare to follow. The way being
fearfully g^eep, and none of the party : even of the thirty ;
^6 MOUNT VESUVIUS
being able to keep their feet for six paces together, tlie
ladies are taken out of their litters, and placed, each be-
tween two careful persons ; while others of the thirty hold
by their skirts, to prevent their falling forward — a necessary
precaution, tending to the immediate and hopeless dilapida-
tion of their apparel. The rather heavy gentleman is ad-
jured to leave his litter too, and be escorted in a similar
manner; but he resolves to be brought down as he was
brought up, on the principle that his fifteen bearers are not
likely to tumble all at once, and that he is safer so than
trusting to his own legs.
In this order, we begin the descent : sometimes on foot,
sometimes shuffling on the ice : always proceeding much
more quietly and slowly than on our upward way : and
constantly alarmed by the falling among us of somebody
from behind, who endangers the footing of the whole party,
and clings pertinaciously to anybody's ankles. It is im-
possible for the litter to be in advance, too, as the track has
to be made ; and its appearance behind us, overhead — with
some one or other of the bearers always down, and the
rather heavy gentleman with his legs in the air — is very
threatening and frightful. We have gone on thus; a very
little way, painfully and anxiously, but quite merrily, and
regarding it as a great success — and have all fallen several
times, and have all been stopped, somehow or other, as we
were sliding away — when Mr. Pickle, of Portici, in the act
of remarking on these uncommon circumstances as quite
beyond his experience, stumbles, falls, disengages himself
with quick presence of mind, from those about him, plunges
MOUNT VESUVIUS 37
away head foremost, and rolls, over and over, down the
whole surface of the cone !
Sickening as it is to look, and be so powerless to help
him, I see him there, in the moonlight — I have had such a
dream often — skimming over the white ice like a cannon-
ball. Almost at the same moment, there is a cry from be-
hind ; and a man who has carried a light basket of spare
cloaks on his head, comes rolling past at the same frightful
speed, closely followed by a boy. At this climax of the
chapter of accidents, the remaining eight-and-twenty vocif-
erate to that degree, that a pack of wolves would be music
to them !
Giddy and bloody, and a mere bundle of rags, is Pickle
of Portici when we reach the place where we dismounted,
and where the horses are waiting ; but, thank God, sound
in limb ! And never are we likely to be more glad to see a
man alive, and on his feet, than to see him now — making
light of it too, though sorely bruised and in great pain.
The boy is brought into the Hermitage on the Mountain,
while we are at supper, with his head tied up ; and the man
is heard of some hours afterwards. He, too, is bruised and
stunned, but has broken no bones ; the snow having, for-
tunately, covered all the larger blocks of rock and stone,
and rendered them harmless.
After a cheerful meal, and a good rest before a blazing
fire, we again take horse, and continue our descent to
Salvatore's house — very slowly, by reason of our bruised
friend being hardly able to keep the saddle, or endure the
pain of motion. Though it is so late at night, or early
•jg MOUNT VESUVIUS
in the morning, all the people of the village are waiting
about the little stable-yard when we arrive, and looking up
the road by which we are expected. Our appearance is
hailed with a great clamour of tongues, and a general sensa-
tion, for which, in our modesty, we are somewhat at a loss
to account, until turning into the yard, we find that one of a
party of French gentlemen, who were on the mountain at
the same time, is lying on some straw in the stable with a
broken limb ; looking like Death and suffering great tor-
ture ; and that we were confidently supposed to have en-
countered some worse accident.
So " well returned and Heaven be praised ! " as the
cheerful Vetturino, who has borne us company all the way
from Pisa says with all his heart ! And away with his
ready horses into sleeping Naples !
It wakes again to Policinelli and pickpockets, buffo
singers and beggars, rags, puppets, flowers, brightness, dirt,
and universal degradation ; airing its Harlequin suit in the
sunshine, next day and every day ; singing, starving, danc-
ing, gaming on the seashore ; and leaving all labour to the
burning mountain, which is ever at its work.
Pictures from Italy (London, 1845).
THE FALLS OF THE RHINE
(.GERMANY)
VICTOR HUGO
MY friend, what shall I say to you ? I have just
come from seeing that strange thing. I am only
a few steps from it. I hear the noise of it. I am writing
to you without knowing what falls from my thoughts.
Ideas and images accumulate there pell-mell, hastening,
jostling and bruising each other, and disappearing in vapour,
in foam, in uproar, and in clouds.
Within me there is an immense ebullition. It seems to
me that I have the Falls of the Rhine in my brain.
I write at random, just as it comes. You must under-
stand if you can.
You arrive at Laufen. It is a castle of the Thirteenth
Century, a very beautiful pile and of a very good style.
At the door there are two gilded wy verns with open mouths.
They are roaring. You would say that they are making
the mysterious noise you hear.
You enter.
You are in the courtyard of a castle. It is no longer a
castle, it is a farm. Hens, geese, turkeys, dirtj a cart in a
corner ; and a vat of lime. A door opens. The cascade
appears.
Marvellous spectacle !
Frightful tumult ! That is the first effect. Then you
40 THE FALLS OF THE RHINE
look about you. The cataract cuts out the gulfs which it
fills with large white sheets. As in a conflagration, there
are some little peaceful spots in the midst of this object of
terror; groves blended with foam; charming brooks in the
mosses ; fountains for the Arcadian Shepherds of Poussin,
shadowed by little boughs gently agitated. — And then these
details vanish, and the impression of the whole returns to
you. Eternal tempest ! Snow, vital and furious. The
water is of a strange transparency. Some black rocks pro-
duce sinister aspects under the water. They appear to
touch the surface and are ten feet down. Below the two
principal leaps of the falls two great sheaves of foam spread
themselves upon the river and disperse in green clouds.
On the other side of the Rhine, I perceive a tranquil group
of little houses, where the housekeepers come and go.
As I am observing, my guide tells me : " Lake Con-
stance froze in the winter of 1829 and 1830. It had not
frozen for a hundred and four years. People crossed it in
carriages. Poor people were frozen to death in SchafF-
hausen."
I descended a little lower towards the abyss. The sky
was grey and veiled. The cascade roared like a tiger.
Frightful noise, terrible rapidity ! Dust of water, smoke
and rain at the same time. Through this mist you see the
cataract in its full development. Five large rocks cut it
into five sheets of water of diverse aspects and different
sizes. You believe you see the five worn piers of a bridge
of Titans. In the winter the ice forms blue arches upon
these black abutments.
THE FALLS OF THE RHINE 4I
The nearest of these rocks is of a strange form ; it seems
as if the water issued full of rage from the hideous and im-
passive head of an Hindu idol with an elephant's head.
Some trees and brambles, which intermingle at its summit,
give it bristling and horrible hair.
At the most awe-inspiring point of the Falls, a great rock
disappears and reappears under the foam like the skull of
an engulfed giant, beaten for six thousand years by this
dreadful shower-bath.
The guide continues his monologue: "The Falls of
the Rhine are one league from SchafFhausen. The whole
mass of the river falls there at a height of seventy feet." —
The rugged path which descends from the castle of
Laufen to the abyss crosses a garden. At the moment
when I passed, deafened by the formidable cataract, a child,
accustomed to living with this marvel of the world, was
playing among the flowers.
This path has several barriers, where you pay a trifle
from time to time. The poor cataract should not work for
nothing. See the trouble it gives ! It is very necessary
that with all the foam that it throws upon the trees, the
rocks, the river, and the clouds, that it should throw a few
sous into the pocket of some one. That is the least it can
do.
I came along this path until I reached a kind of balcony
skilfully poised in reality right over the abyss.
There, everything moves you at once. You are dazzled,
made dizzy, confused, terrified, and charmed. You lean
on a wooden rail that trembles. Some yellow trees, — it is
42 THE FALLS OF THE RHINE
autumn, — and some red quick-trees surround a little pa-
vilion in the style of the Cafe Turc, from which one ob-
serves the horror of the thing. The women cover them-
selves with an oil-skin (each one costs a franc). You are
suddenly enveloped in a terrible, thundering and heavy
shower.
Some pretty little yellow snails crawl voluptuously over
this dew on the rail of the balcony. The rock that slopes
beyond the balcony weeps drop by drop into the cascade.
Upon this rock, which is in the centre of the cataract, a
troubadour-knight of painted wood stands leaning upon a
red shield with a white cross. Some man certainly risked
his life to plant this doubtful ornament in the midst of
Jehovah's grand and eternal poetry.
The two giants, who lift up their heads, I should say the
two largest rocks, seem to speak. The thunder is their
voice. Above an alarming mound of foam you see a peace-
ful little house with its little orchard. You would say that
this terrible hydra is condemned to carry eternally upon his
back that sweet and happy cabin.
I went to the extremity of the balcony ; I leaned against
the rock. The sight became still more terrible. It was a
frightful descent of water. The hideous and splendid
abyss angrily throws a shower of pearls in the face of those
who dare to regard it so near. That is admirable. The
four great heaps of the cataract fall, mount, and fall again
without ceasing. You would believe that you were be-
holding the four lightning-wheels of the storm-chariot.
The wooden bridge was laid under water. The boards
THE FALLS OF THE RHINE 43
A^ere slippery. Some dead leaves quivered under my feet.
In a cleft of the rock, I noticed a little tuft of dried grass.
Dry under the cataract of SchafFhausen ! in this deluge, it
missed every drop of water ! There are some hearts that
may be likened to this tuft of grass. In the midst of a
vortex of human prosperity, they wither of themselves.
Alas ! this drop of water which they have missed and
which springs not forth from the earth but falls from
heaven, is Love !
How long did I remain there, absorbed in that grand
spectacle ? I could not possibly tell you. During that
contemplation the hours passed in my spirit like the waves
in the abyss, without leaving a trace or memory.
However, some one came to inform me that the day was
declining. I climbed up to the castle and from there I de-
scended to the sandy shore whence you cross the Rhine to
gain the right bank. This shore is below the Falls, and
you cross the river at a few fathoms from the cataract.
To accomplish this, you risk yourself in a little boat,
charming, light, exquisite, adjusted like the canoe of a
savage, constructed of wood as supple as the skin of a
shark, solid, elastic, fibrous, grazing the rocks every insta-nt
and hardly escaping — being managed like all the small boats
of the Rhine and the Meuse with a hook and an oar in the
form of a shovel. Nothing is stranger than to feel in this
little boat the deep and thunderous shocks of the water.
As the bark moved away from the bank, I looked above
my head at the battlements covered with tiles and the sharp
gable ends of the chateau that dominates the precipice.
44 THE FALLS OF THE RHINE
Some fishermen's nets were drying up on the stones on the
bank of the river. Do they fish in this vortex ? Yes,
without doubt. As the fish cannot leap over the cataract,
many salmon are caught here. Moreover, where is the
whirlpool in which man will not fish ?
Now I will recapitulate my intense and almost poignant
sensations. First impression : you do not know what to
say, you are crushed as by all great poems. Then the
whole unravels itself. The beauties disengage themselves
from the cloud. Altogether it is grand, sombre, terrible,
hideous, magnificent, unutterable.
On the other side of the Rhine, the Falls are made to
turn mill-wheels.
Upon one bank, the castle ; upon the other, the village,
which is called Neuhausen.
It is a remarkable thing that each of the great Alpine
rivers, on leaving the mountains, has the colour of the sea
to which it flows. The Rhone, escaping from the Lake
of Geneva, is blue like the Mediterranean ; the Rhine,
issuing from Lake Constance, is green like the ocean.
Unfortunately the sky was overcast. I cannot, there-
fore, say that I saw the Falls of Laufen in all their splen-
dour. Nothing is richer nor more marvellous than that
shower of pearls of which I have already told you. This
should be, however, even more wonderful when the sun
changes these pearls to diamonds and when the rainbow
plunges its emerald neck into the foam like a divine bird
that comes to drink in the abyss.
From the other side of the Rhine, whence I am now
THE FALLS OF THE RHINE 45
writing, the cataract appears in its entirety, divided into
five very distinct parts, each of which has its physiognomy
quite apart from the others, and forming a kind of cres-
cendo. The first is an overflowing from a mill; the sec-
ond, almost symmetrically composed by the work of the
wave and time, is a fountain of Versailles ; the third, a cas-
cade ; the fourth, an avalanche ; and the fifth, chaos.
A last word and I will close this letter. Several paces
from the Falls, you explore a calcareous rock, which is very
beautiful. In the midst of one of the quarries that are
there a galley-slave, in stripes of grey and black, with pick-
axe in his hand and a double chain on his feet, looked at
the cataract. Chance seems to delight itself sometimes in
placing in antitheses, sometimes sad and sometimes terrible,
the work of nature and the work of society.
Le Rhin (Paris, 1846).
IN ARCTIC SEAS
LORD DUFFERIN
EVER since leaving England, as each four-and-twenty
hours we climbed up nearer to the pole, the belt of
dusk dividing day from day had been growing narrower
and narrower, until having nearly reached the Arctic circle,
this, — the last night we were to traverse, — had dwindled to
a thread of shadow. Only another half-dozen leagues
more, and we would stand on the threshold of a four
months' day ! For the few preceding hours, clouds had
completely covered the heavens, except where a clear in-
terval of sky, that lay along the northern horizon, prom-
ised a glowing stage for the sun's last obsequies. But like
the heroes of old he had veiled his face to die, and it was
not until he dropped down to the sea that the whole hemis-
phere overflowed with glory and the gilded pageant con-
certed for his funeral gathered in slow procession round his
grave ; reminding one of those tardy honours paid to some
great prince of song, who — left during life to languish in a
garret — is buried by nobles in Westminster Abbey. A
few minutes more the last fiery segment had disappeared
beneath the purple horizon, and all was over.
" The king is dead — the king is dead — the king is dead !
Long live the king ! " And up from the sea that had just
IN ARCTIC SEAS 47
entombed his sire, rose the young monarch of a new day ;
while the courtier clouds, in their ruby robes, turned faces
still aglow with the favours of their dead lord, to borrow
brighter blazonry from the smile of a new master,
A fairer or a stranger spectacle than the last Arctic sun-
set cannot be well conceived. Evening and morning —
like kinsmen whose hearts some baseless feud has kept
asunder — clasping hands across the shadow of the vanished
night.
You must forgive me if sometimes I become a little mag-
niloquent ; for really, amid the grandeur of that fresh pri-
maeval world, it was almost impossible to prevent one's im-
agination from absorbing a dash of the local colouring. We
seemed to have suddenly waked up among the colossal
scenery of Keats's Hyperion. The pulses of young Titans
beat within our veins. Time itself, — no longer frittered
down into paltry divisions, — had assumed a more majestic
aspect. We had the appetite of giants, — was it unnatural
we should also adopt " the large utterance of the early
gods " .?
About 3 A. M. it cleared up a little. By breakfast-
time the sun reappeared, and we could see five or six miles
ahead of the vessel. It was shortly after this, that as I was
standing in the main rigging peering out over the smooth
blue surface of the sea, a white twinkling point of light
suddenly caught my eye about a couple of miles off on the
port bow, which a telescope soon resolved into a solitary
isle of ice, dancing and dipping in the sunlight. As you
may suppose, the news brought everybody upon deck; and
48 IN ARCTIC SEAS
when almost immediately afterwards a string of other pieces
— glittering like a diamond necklace — hove in sight, the
excitement was extreme.
Here, at all events, was honest blue salt water frozen
solid, and when — as we proceeded — the scattered fragments
thickened, and passed like silver argosies on either hand,
until at last we found ourselves enveloped in an innumerable
fleet of bergs, — it seemed as if we could never be weary of
admiring a sight so strange and beautiful. It was rather in
form and colour than in size that these ice islets were re-
markable; anything approaching to a real iceberg we
neither saw, nor are we likely to see. In fact, the lofty
ice mountains that wander like vagrant islands along the
coast of America, seldom or never come to the eastward or
northward of Cape Farewell. They consist of land ice,
and are all generated among the bays and straits within
Baffin's Bay, and first enter the Atlantic a good deal to the
southward of Iceland ; whereas the Polar ice, among which
we have been knocking about, is field ice, and — except
when packed one ledge above another, by great pressure- —
is comparatively flat. I do not think I saw any pieces that
were piled up higher than thirty or thirty-five feet above the
sea-level, although at a little distance through the mist they
may have loomed much loftier.
In quaintness of form, and in brilliancy of colours, these
wonderful masses surpassed everything I had imagined ;
and we found endless amusement in watching their fantastic
procession.
At one time it was a knight on horseback, clad in sap-
IN ARCTIC SEAS 49
phire mail, a white plume above his casque. Or a cathe-
dral window with shafts of chrysophras, new powdered by
a snowstorm. Or a smooth sheer cliff of lapis lazuli ; or
a Banyan tree, with roots descending from its branches,
and a foliage as delicate as the efflorescence of molten
metal ; or a fairy dragon, that breasted the water in scales
of emerald ; or anything else that your fancy chose to con-
jure up. After a little time, the mist again descended on
the scene, and dulled each glittering form to a shapeless
mass of white ; while in spite of all our endeavours to keep
upon our northerly course, we were constantly compelled
to turn and wind about in every direction — sometimes
standing on for several hours at a stretch to the southward
and eastward.
But why should I weary you with the detail of our vari-
ous manoeuvres during the ensuing days ? they were too
tedious and disheartening at the time for me to look back
at them with any pleasure. Suffice it to say, that by dint
of sailing north whenever the ice would permit us, and
sailing west when we could not sail north, — we found our-
selves on the 2d of August, in the latitude of the southern
extremity of Spitzbergen, though divided from the land by
about fifty miles of ice. All this while the weather had
been pretty good, foggy and cold enough, but with a fine
stiff breeze that rattled us along at a good rate whenever
we did get a chance of making any Northing. But lately
it had come on to blow very hard, the cold became quite
piercing, and what was worse — in every direction round the
whole circuit of the horizon, except along its southern seg-
50 IN ARCTIC SEAS
ment, — a blaze of iceblink illuminated the sky. A more
discouraging spectacle could not have met our eyes. The
iceblink is a luminous appearance, reflected on the heavens
from the fields of ice that still lie sunk beneath the horizon ;
it was therefore on this occasion an unmistakable indication
of the encumbered state of the sea in front of us.
I had turned in for a few hours of rest, and release .from
the monotonous sense of disappointment, and was already
lost in a dream of deep bewildering bays of ice, and gulfs
whose shifting shores offered to the eye every possible com-
bination of uncomfortable scenery, without possible issue^
— when " a voice in my dreaming ear " shouted " Land ! "
and I awoke to its reality. I need not tell you in what double
quick time I tumbled up the companion, — or with what
greediness I feasted my eyes on that longed-for view, — the
only sight — as I then thought — we were ever distincd to
enjoy of the mountains of Spitzbergen !
The whole heaven was overcast with a dark mantle of
tempestuous clouds, that stretched down in umbrella-like
points towards the horizon, leaving a clear space between
their edge and the sea, illuminated by the sinister brilliancy
of the iceblink. In an easterly direction, this belt of un-
clouded atmosphere was etherealized to an indescribable
transparency, and up into it there gradually grew — above
the dingy line of starboard ice — a forest of thin lilac peaks,
so faint, so pale, that had it not been for the gem-like dis-
tinctness of their outline, one could have deemed them as
unsubstantial as the spires of fairyland. The beautiful vision
proved only too transient j in one short half hour mist and
IN ARCTIC SEAS 5 1
cloud had blotted it all out, while a fresh barrier of ice
compelled us to turn our backs on the very land we were
striving to reach.
It was one o'clock in the morning of the 6th of August,
1856, that after having been eleven days at sea, we came
to an anchor in the silent haven of English Bay, Spitzbergen.
And now, how shall I give you an idea of the wonderful
panorama in the midst of which we found ourselves ? I
think, perhaps, its most striking feature was the stillness —
and deadness — and impossibility of this new world ; ice, and
rock, and water surrounded us ; not a sound of any kind
interrupted the silence ; the sea did not break upon the
shore ; no bird or any living thing was visible ; the mid-
night sun — by this time muffled in a transparent mist — shed
an awful, mysterious lustre on glacier and mountain ; no
atom of vegetation gave token of the earth's vitality ; an
universal numbness and dumbness seemed to pervade the
solitude. I suppose in scarcely any other part of the world
is this appearance of deadness so strikingly exhibited.
On the stillest summer day in England, there is always
perceptible an undertone of life thrilling through the atmos-
phere ; and though no breeze should stir a single leaf, yet —
in default of motion — there is always a sense of growth ;
but here not so much as a blade of grass was to be seen, on
the sides of the bald, excoriated hills. Primeval rocks —
and eternal ice — constitute the landscape.
Letters from High Latitudes (London, 1859).
IN ANTARCTIC SEAS
W. G. BURN MURDOCH
DAYS such as this are few in a lifetime, so full of
interest has it been, and so fatiguing. Since early
morning, rather since yesterday, for there was no night and
no morning, we have been constantly marvelling at most
astonishing and beautiful spectacles. We have been bathed
in red blood, and for hours and hours we have rowed in the
boats and plunged over miles of soft snow dragging seal-
skins, and I have been drawing hard in the times between
the boat excursions ; but the air is exhilarating, and we feel
equal to almost any amount of work. Sun and snow-
showers alternate — fine hard snow it is, that makes our
faces burn as if before a fire. It is very cold sketching,
and incidents and effects follow each other so rapidly that
there is time to make little more than mental notes.
Christmas Eve.
Those who have felt the peace of a summer night in
Norway or Iceland, where the day sleeps with wide-open
eyes, can fancy the quiet beauty of such a night among the
white floes of the Antarctic.
To-day has passed, glistering in silky white, decked
with sparkling jewels of blue and green, and we thought
surely we had seen the last of Nature's white harmonies ;
IN ANTARCTIC SEAS 53
then evening came, pensive and soothing and grey, and all
the white world changed into soft violet, pale yellow, and
rose.
A dreamy stillness fills the air. To the south the sun
has dipped behind a bank of pale grey cloud, and the sky
above is touched with primrose light. Far to the north the
dark, smooth sea is bounded by two low bergs, that stretch
across the horizon. The nearest is cold violet white, and
the sunlight strikes the furthest, making it shine like a wall
of gold. The sky above them is of a leaden peacock blue,
with rosy cloudlets hanging against it — such colouring as I
have never before seen or heard described. To the west-
ward, across the gulf, we can just distinguish the blue-black
crags jutting from the snowy lomonds. Little clouds,
touched with gold and rose lie nestling in the black corries,
and gather round the snowy peaks. To the south, in the
centre of the floe, some bergs lie, cold and grey in the
shadow of the bank of cloud. They look like Greek
temples imprisoned forever in a field of snow. A faint cold
air comes stealing to us over the floe ; it ripples the yellow
sky reflection at the ice-edge for a moment, and falls away.
In the distance a seal is barking — a low muffled sound that
travels far over the calm water, and occasionally a slight
splash breaks the silence, as a piece of snow separates from
the field and joins its companion pieces that are floating
quietly past our stern to the north, — a mysterious, silent
procession of soft, white spirits, each perfectly reflected in
the lavender sea.
Nature sleeps — breathlessly — silent ; perhaps she dreams
54 IN ANTARCTIC SEAS
of the spirit-world, that seems to draw so close to her on
such a night.
By midnight the tired crew were all below and sound
asleep in their stuffy bunks. But the doctor and I found
it impossible to leave the quiet decks and the mysterious
daylight, so we prowled about and brewed coffee in the de-
serted galley. Then we watched the sun pass behind the
grey bergs in the south for a few seconds, and appear again,
refreshed, with a cool silvery light. A few flakes of snow
floated in the clear, cold air, and two snowy petrels, white
as the snow itself, flitted along the ice-edge.
A cold, dreamy, white Christmas morning, — beautiful
beyond expression.
From Edinburgh to the Antarctic — Jn Artist's Notes and
Sketches during the Dundee Antarctic Expedition of i8g2-j
(London, 1894).
THE DESERT OF SAHARA
(.AFRICA)
EUGENE FROMENTIN
THE Saharans adore their country,* and, for my part, I
should come very near justifying a sentiment so im-
passioned, especially when it is mingled with the attach-
ment to one's native soil. . . . It is a land without
grace or softness, but it is severe, which is not an evil
though its first effect is to make one serious — an effect that
many people confound with weariness. A great land of
hills expiring in a still greater flat land bathed in eternal
light ; empty and desolate enough, to give the idea of that
surprising thing called the desert ; with a sky almost always
• The word Sahara does not necessarily convey the idea of a desert im-
mensity. Inhabited at certain points, it is called Fiafi ; habitable at cer-
tain others, it takes the name of Kifar, a word whose signification is the
same as that of the common word Khela, abandoned ; habitable and in-
habited at yet other points, it is called Falat.
These three words represent each of the characteristics of the Sahara.
Fiafi is the oasis where life retires, about the fountains and wells, under
the palms and fruit trees, sheltered from the sun and chmib (simoon).
Kifar is the sandy and void plain, which, however, when fertilized for
a moment by the winter rains, is covered with grass (a' cheb') in the spring;
and the nomadic tribes that ordinarily camp around the oases go thither
to pasture their flocks.
Falat, finally, is the sterile and bare immensity, the sea of sand, whose
eternal billows, to-day agitated by the choub, to-morrow will lie in motion-
less heaps ; — the sea that is slowly ploughed by those fleets called caravans.
— General Daumas, Le Sahara Algirien,
56 THE DESERT OF SAHARA
the same, silence, and on all sides a tranquil horizon. In
the centre a kind of lost city, surrounded by solitude ; then
a little verdure, sandy islets, and, lastly, a few reefs of
whitish calcareous stone or black schists on the margin of
an expanse that resembles the sea; — in all this, but little
variety, few accidents, few novelties, unless it be the sun
that rises over the desert and sinks behind the hills, ever
calm, rayless but devouring ; or perhaps the banks of sand
that have changed their place and form under the last wind
from the South. Brief dawns, longer noons that are heav-
ier than elsewhere, and scarcely any twilight ; sometimes a
sudden expansion of light and warmth with burning winds
that momentarily give the landscape a menacing physiog-
nomy and that may then produce crushing sensations ; but
more usually a radiant immobility, the somewhat mournful
fixity of fine weather, in short, a kind of impassibility that
seems to have fallen from the sky upon lifeless things and
from them to have passed into human faces.
The first impression received from this ardent and inani-
mate picture, composed of sun, expanse, and solitude, is
acute and cannot be compared with any other. However,
little by little, the eye grows accustomed to the grandeur of
the lines, the emptiness of the space, and the nakedness of
the earth, and if one is still astonished at anything, it is at
still remaining sensible to such slightly changing effects
and at being so deeply stirred by what are in reality the
most simple sights.
Here the sky is clear, arid, and unchanging ; it comes in
contact with fawn-coloured or white ground, and maintains
THE DESERT OF SAHARA 57
a frank blue in its utmost extent ; and when it puts on
gold opposite the setting sun its base is violet and almost
leaden-hued. I have not seen any beautiful mirages. Ex-
cept during the sirocco, the horizon is always distinctly
visible and detached from the sky ; there is only a final
streak of ash-blue which is vigorously defined in the morn-
ing, but in the middle of the day is somewhat confounded
with the sky and seems to tremble in the fluidity of the at-
mosphere. Directly to the South, a great way ofF towards
M'zab, an irregular line formed by groves of tamarinds is
visible. A faint mirage, that is produced every day in this
part of the desert, makes these groves appear nearer and
larger ; but the illusion is not very striking and one needs
to be told in order to notice it.
Shortly after sunrise the whole country is rosy, a vivid
rose, with depths of peach colour ; the town is spotted
with points of shadow, and some little white argils, scat-
tered along the edge of the palms, gleam gaily enough in
this mournful landscape which for a short moment of fresh-
ness seems to smile at the rising sun. In the air are vague
sounds and a suggestion of singing that makes us under-
stand that every country in the world has its joyous awak-
ening.
Then, almost at the same moment every day, from the
south we hear the approach of innumerable twitterings of
birds. They are the gangas coming from the desert to
drink at the springs. . . . It is then half-past six.
One hour later and the same cries suddenly arise in the
north } the same Hacks pass over my head one by one, in
5? THE DESERT OF SAHARA
the same numbers and order, and regain their desert plains.
One might say that the morning is ended ; and the sole
smiling hour of the day has passed between the going and
returning of the gangas. The landscape that was rose has
already become dun ; the town has far fewer little shad-
ows ; it greys as the sun gets higher ; in proportion as it
shines brighter the desert seems to darken ; th? hills alone
remain rosy. If there was any wind it dies away ; warm
exhalations begin to spread in the air as if they were from
the sands. Two hours later all movement ceases at once,
and noontide commences.
The sun mounts and is finally directly over my head. I
have only the narrow shelter of my parasol and there I
gather myself together; my feet rest in the sand or on
glittering stones ; my pad curls up beside me under the
sun ; my box of colours crackles like burning wood. Not
a sound is heard now. There are four hours of incredible
calm and stupor. The town sleeps below me then dumb
and looking like a mass of violet with its empty terraces
upon which the sun illumines a multitude of screens full
of little rose apricots, exposed there to dry ; — here and
there a black hole marks a window, or an interior door, and
fine lines of dark violet show that there are only one or
two strips of shadow in the whole town. A fillet of
stronger light that edges the contour of the terraces helps
us to distinguish these mud edifices from one another, piled
as they are rather than built upon their three hills.
On all sides of the town extends the oasis, also dumb
and slumbrous under the heavy heat of the day. It looks
THE DESERT OF SAHARA 59
quite small and presses close against the two flanks of the
town with an air of wanting to defend it at need rather
than to entice it. I can see the whole of it : it resembles
two squares of leaves enveloped by a long wall like a park,
roughly drawn upon the sterile plain. Although divided by
compartments into a multitude of little orchards, also all
enclosed within walls, seen from this height it looks like a
green tablecloth ; no tree is distinguishable, two stages of
forest only can be remarked : the first, round-headed
clumps ; the second, clusters of palms. At intervals some
meagre patches of barley, only the stubble of which now
remains, form shorn spaces of brilliant yellow amid the
foliage ; elsewhere in rare glades a dry, powdery, and ash-
coloured ground shows. Finally, on the south side, a few
mounds of sand, heaped by the wind, have passed over the
surrounding wall ; it is the desert trying to invade the gar-
dens. The trees do not move ; in the forest thickets we
divine certain sombre gaps in which birds may be supposed
to be hidden, sleeping until their second awakening in the
evening.
This is also the hour when the desert is transformed into
an obscure plain. The sun, suspended over its centre, in-
scribes upon it a circle of light the equal rays of which fall
full upon it in all ways and everywhere at the same time.
There is no longer any clearness or shadow ; the perspec-
tive indicated by the fleeting colours almost ceases to meas-
ure distances ; everything is covered with a brown tone,
continuous without streaks or mixture ; there are fifteen or
twenty leagues of country as uniform and flat as a floontig.
6o THE DESERT OF SAHARA
It seems that the most minute salient object should be visi-
ble upon it^ and yet the eye discerns nothing there ; one
could not even say now where there is sand, earth, or stony
places, and the immobility of this solid sea then becomes
more striking than ever. On seeing it start at our feet and
then stretch away and sink towards the South, the East, and
the West without any traced route or inflexion, we ask our-
selves what may be this silent land clothed in a doubtful
tone that seems the colour of the void ; whence no one
comes, whither no one goes, and which ends in so straight
and clear a strip against the sky; — we do not know; we
feel that it does not end there and that it is, so to speak,
only the entrance to the high sea.
Then add to all these reveries the fame of the names we
have seen upon the map, of places that we know to be there,
in such or such direction, at five, ten, twenty, fifty days'
march, some known, others only indicated and yet others
more and more obscure. . . . Then the negro country,
the edge of which we only know; two or three names of
towns with a capital for a kingdom ; lakes, forests, a great
sea on the left, perhaps great rivers, extraordinary inclemen-
cies under the equator, strange products, monstrous animals,
hairy sheep, elephants, and what then ? Nothing more
distinct; unknown distances, an uncertainty, an enigma.
Before me I have the beginning of this enigma and the
spectacle is strange beneath this clear noonday sun. Here
is where I should like to see the Egyptian Sphinx.
It is vain to gaze around, far or near; no moving thing
can be distinguished. Sometimes by chance, a little convoy
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THE DESERT OF SAHARA 6 1
of laden camels appears, like a row of blackish points, slowly
mounting the sandy slopes ; we only perceive them when
they reach the foot of the hills. They are travellers ; who
are they ? whence come they ? Without our perceiving
them, they have crossed the whole horizon beneath our
eyes. Or perhaps it is a spout of sand which suddenly de-
taches itself from the surface like a fine smoke, rises into a
spiral, traverses a certain space bending under the wind and
then evaporates after a few seconds.
The day passes slowly ; it ends as it began with half red-
nesses, an amber sky, depths assuming colour, long oblique
flames which will empurple the mountains, the sands and the
eastern rocks in their turn ; shadows take possession of that
side of the land that has been fatigued by the heat during the
first half of the day ; everything seems to be somewhat com-
forted. The sparrows and turtle-doves begin to sing among
the palms ; there is a movement as of resurrection in the town ;
people show themselves on the terraces and come to shake
the sieves ; the voices of animals are heard in the squares,
horses neighing as they are taken to water and camels bel-
lowing ; the desert looks like a plate of gold ; the sun sinks
over the violet mountains and the night makes ready to fall.
Un Et'e dans le Sahara (Paris, 1857).
FINGAL'S CAVE
(.SCOTLAND}
SIR WALTER SCOTT
July 19, 18 10.
YESTERDAY we visited StafFa and lona: the for-
mer is one of the most extraordinary places I ever
beheld. It exceeded, in my mind, every description I had
heard of it ; or rather, the appearance of the cavern, com-
posed entirely of basaltic pillars as high as the roof of a cathe-
dral,' and the running deep into the rock, eternally swept
by a deep and swelling sea, and paved as it were with ruddy
1 " that wondrous dome,
Where, as to shame the temples deck'd
By skill of earthly architect.
Nature herself, it seem'd, would raise,
A minster to her Maker's praise !
Not for a meaner use ascend
Her columns, or her arches bend ;
Nor of a theme less solemn tells
That mighty surge that ebbs and swells.
And still, beneath each awful pause
From the high vault an answer draws.
In varied tone prolonged and high
That mocks the organ's melody.
Nor doth its entrance front in vain
To old lona's holy fane,
That Nature's voice might seem to say,
' Well hast thou done, frail Child of clay !
Thy humble powers that stately shrine
Task'd high and hard — but witness mine ! ' "
Lord of the hies. Canto IV. St. lO.
FINGAL'S CAVE 63
marble, baffles all description. You can walk along the
broken pillars, with some difficulty, and in some places with
a little danger, as far as the farthest extremity. Boats also
can come in below when the sea is placid, — which is sel-
dom the case. I had become a sort of favourite with the
Hebridean boatmen, I suppose from my anxiety about their
old customs, and they were much pleased to see me get
over the obstacles which stopped some of the party. So
they took the whim of solemnly christening a great stone
at the mouth of the cavern, Clachan-an Bairdh, or the
Poet's Stone. It was consecrated with a pibroch, which
the echoes rendered tremendous, and a glass of whisky, not
poured forth in the ancient mode of libation, but turned
over the throats of the assistants. The head boatman,
whose father had been himself a bard, made me a speech on
the occasion ; but as it was in Gaelic, I could only receive
it as a silly beauty does a fine-spun compliment — bow, and
say nothing.
When this fun was over (in which, strange as it may
seem, the men were quite serious), we went to lona, where
there are some ancient and curious monuments. From this
remote island the light of Christianity shone forth on
Scotland and Ireland. The ruins are of a rude architecture,
but curious to the antiquary. Our return was less comfort-
able ; we had to row twenty miles against an Atlantic tide
and some wind, besides the pleasure of seeing occasional
squalls gathering to windward. The ladies were sick,
especially poor Hannah Mackenzie, and none of the gentle-
men escaped except StafFa and myself. The men, however,
64 FINGAL'S CAVE
cheered by the pipes, and by their own interesting boat-
songs, which were uncommonly wild and beautiful, one
man leading and the others answering in chorus, kept pull-
ing away without apparently the least sense of fatigue, and
we reached Ulva at ten at night, tolerably wet, and well
disposed for bed.
The haze and dullness of the atmosphere seem to render
it dubious if we can proceed, as we intended, to StafFa to-
day — for mist among these islands is rather unpleasant.
Erskine reads prayers on deck to all hands, and introduces a
very apt allusion to our being now in sight of the first
Christian Church from which Revelation was diffused over
Scotland and all its islands. There is a very good form of
prayer for the Lighthouse Service composed by the Rev.
Mr. Brunton. A pleasure vessel lies under our lee from
Belfast, with an Irish party related to Macneil of Colonsay.
The haze is fast degenerating into downright rain, and that
right heavy — verifying the words of Collins —
" And thither where beneath the showery west
The mighty Kings of three fair realms are laid," •
After dinner, the weather being somewhat cleared, sailed
for Staffa, and took boat. The surf running heavy up be-
tween the island and the adjacent rock, called Booshala, we
landed at a creek near the Cormorant's cave. The mist
now returned so thick as to hide all view of lona, which
was our landmark ; and although Duff, Stevenson, and I,
had been formerly on the isle, we could not agree upon the
• Ode 071 the Superstitions of the Highlands,
FINGAL'S CAVE 65
proper road to the cave. I engaged myself, with DufF and
Erskine, in a clamber of great toil and danger, and which
at length brought me to the Cannon-ball^ as they call a round
granite stone moved by the sea up and down in a groove of
rock, which it has worn for itself, with a noise resembling
thunder. Here I gave up my research, and returned to my
companions, who had not been more fortunate. As night
was now falling, we resolved to go aboard and postpone the
adventure of the enchanted cavern until next day. The
yacht came to an anchor with the purpose of remaining ofF
the island all night, but the hardness of the ground, and the
weather becoming squally, obliged us to return to our safer
mooring at Y-Columb-Kill.
29th August, 1 8 14.
Night squally and rainy — morning ditto — we weigh,
however, and return towards StafFa, and, very happily, the
day clears as we approach the isle. As we ascertained the
situation of the cave, I shall only make this memorandum,
that when the weather will serve, the best landing is to the
lee of Booshala, a little conical islet or rock, composed of
basaltic columns placed in an oblique or sloping position.
In this way, you land at once on the flat causeway, formed
by the heads of truncated pillars, which leads to the cave.
But if the state of tide renders it impossible to land under
Booshala, then take one of the adjacent creeks ; in which
case, keeping to the left hand along the top of the ledge of
rocks which girdles in the isle, you find a dangerous and
precipitous descent to the causeway aforesaid, from the
66 FINGAL'S CAVE
table. Here we were under the necessity of towing our
Commodore, Hamilton, whose gallant heart never fails
him, whatever the tenderness of his toes may do. He was
successfully lowered by a rope down the precipice, and pro-
ceeding along the flat terrace or causeway already men-
tioned, we reached the celebrated cave. I am not sure
whether I was not more affected by this second, than by
the first view of it. The stupendous columnar side walls —
the depth and strength of the ocean with which the cavern
is filled — the variety of tints formed by stalactites dropping
and petrifying between the pillars, and resembling a sort of
chasing of yellow or cream-coloured marble filling the
interstices of the roof — the corresponding variety below,
where the ocean rolls over a red) and in some places a
violet-coloured rock, the basis of the basaltic pillars — the
dreadful noise of those august billows so well corresponding
with the grandeur of the scene — are all circumstances else-
where unparalleled. We have now seen in our voyage the
three grandest caverns in Scotland, — Smowe, Macallister's
Cave, and StafFa ; so that, like the Troglodytes of yore,
we may be supposed to know something of the matter. It
is, however, impossible to compare scenes of natures so
different, nor, were I compelled to assign a preference to
any of the three, could I do it but with reference to their
distinct characters, which might affect different individuals
in different degrees. The characteristic of the Smowe cave
may in this case be called the terrific, for the difiiculties
which oppose the stranger are of a nature so uncommonly
wild, as, for the first time at least, to convey an impression of
FINGAL'S CAVE 67
terror — with which the scenes to which he is introduced
fully correspond. On the other hand the dazzling white-
ness of the incrustations in Macallister's Cave, the elegance
of the entablature, the beauty of its limpid pool, and the
graceful dignity of its arch, render its leading features those
of severe and chastened beauty. Staffa, the third of these
subterranean wonders, may challenge sublimity as its prin-
cipal characteristic. Without the savage gloom of the
Smowe cave, and investigated with more apparent ease,
though, perhaps, with equal real danger, the stately regu-
larity of its columns forms a contrast to the grotesque im-
agery of Macallister's Cave, combining at once the senti-
ments of grandeur and beauty. The former is, however,
predominant, as it must necessarily be in any scene of the
kind.
We had scarce left StafFa when the wind and rain re-
turned.
Lockhart, Life of Sir Walter Scott (Edinburgh, 1878).
FINGAL'S CAVE
iSCOTLAND)
JOHN KEATS
I AM puzzled how to give you an Idea of StafFa. It
can only be represented by a first-rate drawing. One
may compare the surface of the Island to a roof — this roof
is supported by grand pillars of basalt standing together as
thick as honeycombs. The finest thing is Fingal's Cave —
it is entirely a hollowing out of Basalt Pillars. Suppose
now the Giants who rebelled against Jove had taken a
whole Mass of black Columns and bound them together
like bunches of matches — and then with immense axes had
made a cavern in the body of these columns Of course
the roof and floor must be composed of broken ends of the
Columns — such is Fingal's Cave, except that the Sea has
done the work of excavations, and is continually dashing
there — so that wc walk along the sides of the cave on the
pillars which arc left as if for convenient stairs. The roof
is arched somewhat gothic-wise, and the length of some of
the entire side-pillars is fifty feet. About the island you
might seat an army of Men each on a pillar. The length
of the cave is 120 feet, and from its extremity the view
into the sea, through the large Arch at the entrance — the
colour of the columns is a sort of black with a lurking
gloom of purple therein. For solemnity and grandeur it
FINGAL'S CAVE 69
far surpasses the finest Cathedral. At the extremity of the
Cave there is a small perforation into another cave, at which
the waters meeting and buffeting each other there is some-
times produced a report as of a cannon heard as far as lona,
which must be twelve Miles. As we approached in the
boat, there was such a fine swell of the sea that the pillars
appeared rising immediately out of the crystal. But it is
impossible to describe it —
Not Aladdin magian
Ever such a work began.
Not the Wizard of the Dee
Ever such a dream could see,
Not St. John in Patmos Isle
In the passion of his toil
When he saw the churches seven
Golden-aisled built up in heaven
Gaz'd at such a rugged wonder.
As I stood its roofing under
Lo ! I saw one sleeping there
On the marble cold and bare.
While the surges wash'd his feet
And his garments white did beat
Drench'd about the sombre rocks,
On his neck his well-grown locks
Lifted dry above the Main
Were upon the curl again —
" What is this ? and what art thou ? "
Whisper'd I, and touch'd his brow ;
" What art thou ? and what is this ? "
Whisper'd I, and strove to kiss
The, Spirit's hand, to wake his eyes ;
Up he started in a trice :
" I am Lycidas," said he
" Fam'd in funeral Minstrelsy —
This was architected thus
By the great Oceanus.
70 FINGAL'S CAVE
Here his mighty waters play
Hollow Organs all the day,
Here, by turns, his dolphins all,
Finny palmers great and small,
Come to pay devotion due —
Each a mouth of pearls must strew !
Many a mortal of these days
Dares to pass our sacred ways,
Dares to touch, audaciously
This Cathedral of the sea —
I have been the Pontiff-priest,
Where the Waters never rest,
Where a fledgy sea-bird choir
Soars for ever — holy fire
I have hid from Mortal Man.
Proteus is my Sacristan
But the stupid eye of Mortal
Hath pass'd beyond the Rocky portal.
So for ever will I leave
Such a taint and soon unweave
All the magic of the place —
'Tis now free to stupid face —
To cutters and to fashion boats,
To cravats and Petticoats.
The great Sea shall war it down,
For its fame shall not be blown
At every farthing quadrille dance."
So saying with a Spirit's glance
He dived —
I am sorry I am so indolent as to write such stuff as this.
It can't be helped. The western coast of Scotland is a
most strange place — it is composed of rocks, mountains,
mountainous and rocky islands intersected by lochs — you
can go but a short distance anywhere from salt water in the
highlands.
Letters of yohn Keats (London and New York, 1 891).
IN THE HIMALAYAS
(/M>M)
G. W. STEEVENS
IN Calcutta they grumbled that the hot weather was be-
ginning already. Mornings were steamy, days sticky,
and the municipal impurities rose rankly. The carter
squatted over his bullocks with his shining body stark naked
but for a loin-cloth.
At Siliguri, the bottom of the ascent to Darjiling, the
rough grass and the tea-gardens were sheeted at sunrise in a
silver frost. What few natives appeared happed their
heads in shawls as if they had toothache.
It takes you an afternoon and a night to get as far as
Siliguri. What you principally notice on the way is the
dullness of the flat, moist richness of Bengal, and the extra-
ordinary fullness of the first-class carriages. Even at this
winter season the residents of Calcutta snatch at the chance
of being cold for twenty-four hours. When you get out of
your carriage at the junction station, you see on the other
side of the platform a dumpy little toy train — a train at the
wrong end of a telescope with its wheels cut from beneath
it. Engines and trucks and carriages seem to be crawling
like snakes on their bellies. Six miniature easy-chairs,
three facing three, on an open truck with an awning, make
a first-class carriage.
72 IN THE HIMALAYAS
This is the Darjiling-Himalaya Railway — two-foot
gauge, climbing four feet to the hundred for fifty miles up
the foothills of the greatest mountains in the world. It is
extraordinary as the only line in India that has been built
with Indian capital. But you will find that the least of its
wonders. A flat-faced hillman bangs with a hammer twice
three times on a spare bit of railway metal hung up by way
of a gong, the whistle screams, and you pant away on
surely the most entrancing railway journey in the world.
Nothing very much to make your heart jump in the first
seven miles. You bowl along the surface of a slightly as-
cending cart-load, and your view is mostly bamboo and tea.
Graceful enough, and cool to the eye — the bamboos, hedges
or clumps of slender stem with plumes of pale leaf swing-
ing and nodding above them ; the tea, trim ranks and files
of short, well-furnished bushes with lustrous, dark-green
leaves, not unlike evergreens or myrtle in a nursery at
home, — but you soon feel that you have known bamboo
and tea all your life. Then suddenly you begin to climb,
and all at once you are in a new world — a world of plants.
A new world is easy to say, but this is new indeed and a
very world — such a primeval vegetable world as you have
read of in books and eked out with dreams. It has every-
thing you know in your world, only everything expressed
in vegetation. It is a world in its variety alone. Trees of
every kind rise up round you at every angle — unfamiliar,
most of them, and exaggerations of forms you know, as if
they were seen through a microscope. You might come
on such broad fleshy leaves by way of Jack's giant bean-
IN THE HIMALAYAS 73
Stalk. Other growths take the form of bushes as high as
our trees ; but beside them are skinny, stunted starvelings,
such as the most niggardly country might show. Then
there are grasses — tufted, ruddy bamboo grass, and huge
yellow straws with giant bents leaning insolently over to
flick your face as you go by. Smaller still grow the ferns,
lurking shyly in the crevices of the banks. And over
everything, most luxuriant of everything, crawl hundred-
armed creepers, knitting and knotting the whole jungle into
one mellay of struggling life.
The varieties — the trees and shrubs and grasses and
ferns and creepers — you would see in any tropical garden;
but you could not see them at home. You could not- see
them in their unpruned native intercourse one with the
other. The rise and fall of the ground, the whims of light
and air, coax them into shapes that answer to the most fan-
tastic imagination. Now you are going through the solemn
aisles of a great cathedral — grey trunks for columns, with
arches and vaulted roofs of green, with dark, retreating
chapels and altar-trappings of mingled flowers. Now it is
a king's banqucting-hall, tapestried with white-flowering
creeper and crimson and purple bougainvillea ; overhead
the scarlet-mahogany blossoms of a sparse-leaved tulip-tree
might be butterflies frescoed on a ceiling.
Fancy can compel the wilderness into moments of order,
but wild it remains. The growths are not generally build-
ings, but animate beings in a real world. You see no per-
fectly shaped tree, as in a park or garden ; one is warped,
another stunted, another bare below — each formed, like
74 IN THE HIMALAYAS
men, by the pressure of a thousand fellows. Here is a
corpse spreading white, stark arms abroad. Here are half-
a-dozen young creatures rolling over each other like puppies
at play. And there is a creeper flinging tumultuous, en-
raptured arms round a stately tree j presently it is gripping
it in thick bands like Laocoon's serpent, then choking it
mercilessly to death, then dead itself, its bleached, bare
streamers dangling limply in the wind. It is life, indeed,
this forest — plants fighting, victorious and vanquished ; loving
and getting children ; springing and waxing and decaying
and dying — our own world of men translated into plants.
While I am spinning similitudes, the Darjiling-Himalaya
Railway is panting always upwards, boring through the
thick world of trees like a mole. Now it sways round a
curve so short that you can almost look back into the next
carriage, and you understand why the wheels are so low.
Now it stops dead, and almost before it stops starts back-
wards up a zigzag, then forwards up another, and on again.
In a moment it is skating on the brink of a slide of shale
that trembles to come down and overwhelm it ; next it is
rumbling across a bridge above the point it passed ten
minutes ago, and also that which it will reach ten minutes
hence. Twisting, backing, circling, dodging, but always
rising, it untreads the skein whose end is in the clouds and
the snows.
Presently the little engine draws quite clear of the jungle.
You skirt opener slopes, and the blue plain below is no
longer a fleeting vista, but a broad prospect. You see how
the forest spills itself on to the fields and spreads into a dark
IN THE HIMALAYAS 75
puddle over their lightness. You see a great river overlay-
ing the dimness with a ribbon of steel. The ferns grow
thicker about you ; gigantic fronds bow at you from gullies
overhead, and you see the tree-fern — a great crown of
drooping green on a trunk of a man's height — standing
superbly alone, knowing its supreme gracefulness. Next,
as you rise and rise, the air gets sharp ; through a gauzy
veil of mist appear again huge forests, but dark and gloomy
with brown moss dripping dankly from every branch. Ris-
ing, rising, and you have now come to Ghoom, the highest
point. Amid the cold fog appears the witch of Ghoom —
a hundred years old, with a pointed chin and mop of griz-
zled hair all witch-fashion, but beaming genially and re-
questing backsheesh.
Then round a corner — and here is Darjiling. A scat-
tered settlement on a lofty ridge, facing a great cup en-
closed by other ridges — mountains elsewhere, here hills.
Long spurs run down into the hollow, half black with for-
est, half pale and veined with many paths. At the bottom
is a little chequer of fresh green millet ; the rim at the top
seems to line the sky.
And the Himalayas and the eternal snows ? The devil
a Himalaya in sight. Thick vapours dip down and over
the very rim of the cup ; beyond Darjiling is a tumult of
peaked creamy cloud. You need not be told it, — clouds
that hide mountains always ape their shapes, — the majestic
Himalayas are behind that screen, and you will not see
them to-day, nor perhaps to-morrow, nor yet for a fortnight
of to-morrows.
76 IN THE HIMALAYAS
You must console yourself with Darjiling and the hill-
men. And Darjiling is pleasant to the eye as you look
down on it, a huddle of grey corrugated-iron roofs, one
stepping over the other, hugging the hillside with one or
two red ones to break the monotone. There is no contin-
uous line of them : each stands by itself in a ring of deep
green first. The place is cool and grateful after an Indian
town — clean and roomy, a place of homes and not of pens.
In the middle of it is the bazaar, and my day, by luck,
was market-day. Here, again, you could never fancy your-
self in India. A few Hindus there are, but beside the
dumpy hillmen their thin limbs, tiny features, and melting
eyes seem hardly human. More like the men you know is
the Tibetan, with a long profile and long, sharp nose,
though his hat has the turned-up brim of the Chinese,
though he wears a long bottle-green dressing-gown open to
the girdle, and his pigtail knocks at the back of his knees.
But the prevailing type, though as Mongolian, is far more
genial than the Tibetan. Squat little men, for the most
part, fill the bazaar, with broad faces that give room for the
features, with button noses, and slits for eyes. They wear
boots and putties, or gaiters made of many-coloured carpet-
bagging ; and their women are like them — with shawls over
their heads, and broad sashes swathing them from bosom to
below the waist, with babies slung behind their backs, not
astride on the hip as are the spawn of India. Their eyes
are black as sloes — puckered, too, but seeming puckered
with laughter; and their clear yellow skins are actually
rosy on the cheeks, like a ripe apricot. Square-faced, long-
IN THE HIMALAYAS 77
pigtailed, plump, cheery, open of gaze, and easy of carriage,
rolling cigarettes, and offering them to soothe babies — they
might not be beautiful in Europe ; here they are ravishing.
But you come to Darjiling to see the snows. So on a
night of agonizing cold — feet and hands a block of ice the
moment you cease to move them — must follow a rise be-
fore it is light. Maybe the clouds will be kinder this
morning. No ; the same stingy, clammy mist, — only there,
breaking through it, high up in the sky — ^yes, there are a
few faint streaks of white. Just a few marks of snow
scored on the softer white of the cloud, chill with the ut-
terly disconsolate cold of ice through a window of fog.
Still, there are certainly Himalayas there.
Up and up I toiled ; the sun was plainly rising behind
the ridge of Darjiling. In the cup below the sunlight was
drawing down the hillsides and peeling off the twilight.
Then, at a sudden turn of the winding ascent, I saw the sum-
mit of Kinchinjunga. Just the summit, poised in the blue,
shining and rejoicing in the sunrise. And as I climbed and
climbed, other peaks rose into sight below and beside him,
all dazzling white, mounting and mounting the higher I
mounted, every instant more huge and towering and stately,
boring into the sky.
Up — till I came to the summit, and the sun appeared —
a golden ball swimming in a sea of silver. He was sending
the clouds away curling before him ; they drifted across the
mountains, but he pursued and smote and dissolved them.
And ever the mountains rose and rose, huger and
huger; as they swelled up they heaved the clouds away in
78 IN THE HIMALAYAS
rolls ofF their shoulders. Now their waists were free, and
all but their feet. Only a chasm of fog still hid their lower
slopes. Fifty miles away, they looked as if I could toss a
stone across to them ; only you could never hope to hit
their heads, they towered so gigantically. Now the clouds,
clearing to right and left, laid bare a battlemented range of
snow-white wall barring the whole horizon. Behind these
appeared other peaks ; it was not a range, but a country of
mountains, not now a wall, but a four-square castle carved
by giants out of eternal ice. It was the end of the world
— a sheer rampart, which forbade the fancy of anything
beyond.
And in the centre, by peak and col and precipice, the
prodigy reared itself up to Kinchinjunga. Bare rock be-
low, then blinding snow seamed with ridges of chimneys,
and then, above, the mighty summit — a tremendous three-
cornered slab of grey granite between two resplendent
faces of snow. Other mountains tiptoe at the sky snatch
at it with a peak like a needle. Kinchinjunga heaves him-
self up into it, broadly, massively, and makes his summit a
diadem. He towers without effort, knowing his majesty.
Sublime and inviolable, he lifts his grey nakedness and his
mail of burnished snow, and turns his forehead serenely to
sun and storm. Only their touch, of all things created,
has perturbed his solitude since the birth of time.
In India (New York, 1899).
NIAGARA FALLS
( NORTH AMERICA )
ANTHONY TROLLOPE
IT has been said that it matters much from what point
the Falls are first seen, but to this I demur. It mat-
ters, I think, very little, or not at all. Let the visitor first
see it all, and learn the whereabouts of every point, so as
to understand his own position and that of the waters ; and
then having done that in the way of business let him pro-
ceed to enjoyment. I doubt whether it be not the best to
do this with all sight-seeing. I am quite sure that it is the
way in which acquaintance may be best and most pleas-
antly made with a new picture. The Falls are, as I have
said, made by a sudden breach in the level of the river.
All cataracts are, I presume, made by such breaches ; but
generally the waters do not fall precipitously as they do at
Niagara, and never elsewhere, as far as the world yet
knows, has a breach so sudden been made in such a body
of water. Up above the Falls, for more than a mile, the
waters leap and burst over rapids, as though conscious of
the destiny that awaits them. Here the river is very
broad, and comparatively shallow, but from shore to shore
it frets itself into little torrents, and begins to assume the
majesty of its power. Looking at it even here, one feels
sure that no strongest swimmer could have a chance of
saving himself, if fate had cast him in even among those
8o NIAGARA FALLS
petty whirlpools. The waters, though so broken in their
descent, are deliciously green. This colour as seen early in
the morning, or just as the sun has set, is so bright as to
give to the place of its chiefest charms.
This will be best seen from the further end of the island
— Goat Island, as it is called, which, as the reader will un-
derstand, divides the river immediately above the Falls.
Indeed the island is a part of that precipitously broken
ledge over which the river tumbles ; and no doubt in proc-
ess of time will be worn away and covered with water.
The time, however, will be very long. In the meanwhile
it is perhaps a mile round, and is covered thickly with tim-
ber. At the upper end of the island the waters are di-
vided, and coming down in two courses, each over its own
rapids, form two separate falls. The bridge by which the
island is entered is a hundred yards or more above the
smaller fall. The waters here have been turned by the is-
land, and make their leap into the body of the river below
at a right angle with it, — about two hundred yards below
the greater fall. Taken alone this smaller cataract would,
I imagine, be the heaviest fall of water known, but taken
in conjunction with the other it is terribly shorn of its
majesty. The waters here are not green as they are at the
larger cataract, and though the ledge has been hollowed
and bowed by them so as to form a curve, that curve does
not deepen itself into a vast abyss as it does at the horseshoe
up above. This smaller fall is again divided, and the visitor
passing down a flight of steps and over a frail wooden
bridge finds himself on a smaller island in the midst of it.
NIAGARA FALLS.
NIAGARA FALLS 8 I
But we will go at once on to the glory, and the thunder,
and the majesty, and the wrath of that upper hell of wa-
ters. We are still, let the reader remember, on Goat Is-
land, still in the States, and on what is called the American
side of the main body of the river. Advancing beyond
the path leading down to the lesser fall, wc come to that
point of the island at which the waters of the main river
begin to descend. From hence across to the Canadian
side the cataract continues itself in one unabated line.
But the line is very far from being direct or straight.
After stretching for some little way from the shore, to a
point in the river which is reached by a wooden bridge at
the end of which stands a tower upon the rock, — after
stretching to this, the line of the ledge bends inwards
against the flood, — in, and in, and in, till one is led to think
that the depth of that horseshoe is immeasurable. It has
been cut with no stinting hand. A monstrous cantle has
been worn back out of the centre of the rock, so that the
fury of the waters converges, and the spectator as he gazes
into the hollow with wishful eyes fancies that he can hardly
trace out the centre of the abyss.
Go down to the end of that wooden bridge, seat your-
self on the rail, and there sit till all the outer world is lost
to you. There is no grander spot about Niagara than this.
The waters are absolutely around you. If you have that
power of eye-control, which is so necessary to the full en-
joyment of scenery, you will certainly see nothing but the
water. You will certainly hear nothing else; and the
sound, I beg you to remember, is not an car-cracking,
82 NIAGARA FALLS
agonizing crash and clang of noises ; but is melodious and
soft withal, though loud as thunder. It fills your ears, and
as it were envelops them, but at the same time you can
speak to your neighbour without an effort. But at this
place, and in these moments, the less of speaking I should
say the better. There is no grander spot than this. Here,
seated on the rail of the bridge, you will not see the
whole depth of the fall. In looking at the grandest works
of nature, and of art too, I fancy, it is never well to see
all. There should be something left to the imagination,
and much should be half-concealed in mystery. The
greatest charm of a mountain range is the wild feeling that
there must be strange desolate worlds in those far-off val-
leys beyond. And so here, at Niagara, that converging
rush of waters may fall down, down at once into a hell of
rivers for what the eye can see. It is glorious to watch
them in their first curve over the rocks. They come
green as a bank of emeralds ; but with a fitful flying col-
our, as though conscious that in one moment more they
would be dashed into spray and rise into air, pale as driven
snow. The vapour rises high into the air, and is gathered
there, visible always as a permanent white cloud over the
cataract; but the bulk of the spray which fills the lower
hollow of that horseshoe is like a tumult of snow. This
you will not fully see from your seat on the rail. The
head of it rises ever and anon out of the caldron below,
but the caldron itself will be invisible. It is ever so far
down, — far as your own imagination can sink it. But
your eyes will rest full upon the curve of the waters.
NIAGARA FALLS 83
The shape you will be looking at is that of a horseshoe,
but of a horseshoe miraculously deep from toe to heel ; —
and this depth becomes greater as you sit there. That
which at first was only great and beautiful, becomes gigan-
tic and sublime till the mind is at loss to find an epithet for
its own use. To realize Niagara you must sit there till
you see nothing else than that which you have come to see.
You will hear nothing else, and think of nothing else. At
length you will be at one with the tumbling river before you.
You will find yourself among the waters as though you be-
longed to them. The cool liquid green will run through your
veins, and the voice of the cataract will be the expression
of your own heart. You will fall as the bright waters fall,
rushing down into your new world with no hesitation and
with no dismay ; and you will rise again as the spray rises,
bright, beautiful, and pure. Then you will flow away in
your course to the uncompassed, distant, and eternal ocean.
And now we will cross the water, and with this object
will return by the bridge out of Goat Island on the main-
land of the American side. But as we do so let me say
that one of the great charms of Niagara consists in this, —
that over and above that one great object of wonder and
beauty, there is so much little loveliness ; — loveliness es-
pecially of water, I mean. There are little rivulets running
here and there over little falls, with pendent boughs above
them, and stones shining under their shallow depths. As
the visitor stands and looks through the trees the rapids
glitter before him, and then hide themselves behind islands.
They glitter and sparkle in far distances under the bright
84 NIAGARA FALLS
foliage till the remembrance is lost, and one knows not
which way they run.
Close to the cataract, exactly at the spot from whence in
former days the Table Rock used to project from the land
over the boiling caldron below, there is now a shaft down
which you will descend to the level of the river, and pass
between the rock and the torrent. This Table Rock broke
away from the clifF and fell, as up the whole course of the
river the seceding rocks have split and fallen from time to
time through countless years, and will continue to do till
the bed of the upper lake is reached. You will descend
this shaft, taking to yourself or not taking to yourself a suit
of oil-clothes as you may think best.
In the spot to which I allude the visitor stands on a
broad safe path, made of shingles, between the rock over
which the water rushes. He will go in so far that the
spray rising back from the bed of the torrent does not in-
commode him. With this exception, the further he can go
in the better; but circumstances will clearly show him the
spot to which he should advance. Unless the water be
driven in by a strong wind, five yards make the difference
between a comparatively dry coat and an absolutely wet one.
And then let him stand with his back to the entrance, thus
hiding the last glimmer of the expiring day. So standing
he will look up among the falling waters, or down into the
deep misty pit, from which they reascend in almost as
palpable a bulk. The rock will be at his right hand, high
and hard, and dark and straight, like the wall of some huge
cavern, such as children enter in their dreams. For the
NIAGARA FALLS 85
first five minutes he will be looking but at the waters of a
cataract, — at the waters, indeed, of such a cataract as we
know no other, and at their interior curves which elsewhere
we cannot see. But by and by all this will change. He
will no longer be on a shingly path beneath a waterfall ;
but that feeling of a cavern wall will grow upon him, of a
cavern deep, below roaring seas, in which the waves are
there, though they do not enter in upon him ; or rather not
the waves, but the very bowels of the ocean. He will feel
as though the floods surrounded him, coming and going
with their wild sounds, and he will hardly recognize that
though among them he is not in them. And they, as they
fall with a continual roar, not hurting the ear, but musical
withal, will seem to move as the vast ocean waters may
perhaps move in their internal currents. He will lose the
sense of one continued descent, and think that they are
passing round him in their appointed courses. The broken
spray that rises from the depth below, rises so strongly, so
palpably, so rapidly, that the motion in every direction will
seem equal. And, as he looks on, strange colours will
show themselves through the mist ; the shades of grey will
become green or blue, with ever and anon a flash of white ;
and then, when some gust of wind blows in with greater
violence, the sea-girt cavern will become all dark and
black. Oh, my friend, let there be no one there to speak
to thee then ; no, not even a brother. As you stand there
speak only to the waters.
North America (London, 1862).
NIAGARA FALLS
( NORTH AMERICA )
CHARLES DICKENS
WE called at the town of Erie, at eight o'clock that
night, and lay there an hour. Between five and
six next morning, we arrived at Buffalo, where we break-
fasted J and being too near the Great Falls to wait patiently
anywhere else, we set off by the train, the same morning at
nine o'clock, to Niagara.
It was a miserable day ; chilly and raw ; a damp mist
falling ; and the trees in that northern region quite bare and
wintry. Whenever the train halted, I listened for the roar ;
and was constantly straining my eyes in the direction where
I knew the Falls must be, from seeing the river rolling on
towards them ; every moment expecting to behold the
spray. Within a few moments of our stopping, not before,
I saw two great white clouds rising up slowly and majestic-
ally from the depths of the earth. That was all. At
length we alighted ; and then for the first time, I heard the
mighty rush of water, and felt the ground tremble under-
neath my feet.
The bank is very steep, and was slippery with rain, and
half-melted ice. I hardly know how I got down, but I was
soon at the bottom, and climbing, with two English officers
who were crossing and had joined me, over some broken
NIAGARA FALLS 87
rocks, deafened by the noise, half-blinded by the spray, and
wet to the skin. We were at the foot of the American
Fall. I could see an immense torrent of water tearing
headlong down from some great height, but had no idea of
shape, or situation, or anything but vague immensity.
When we were seated in the little ferry-boat, and were
crossing the swollen river immediately before both cataracts,
I began to feel what it was — but I was in a manner
stunned, and unable to comprehend the vastness of the
scene. It was not until I came on Table Rock, and looked
— Great Heaven, on what a fall of bright green water ! —
that it came upon me in its full might and majesty.
Then, when I felt how near to my Creator I was stand-
ing, the first effect, and the enduring one — instant and last-
ing — of the tremendous spectacle, was Peace. Peace of
Mind, tranquillity, calm recollections of the Dead, great
thoughts of Eternal Rest and Happiness : nothing of gloom
or terror. Niagara was at once stamped upon my heart,
an Image of Beauty ; to remain there, changeless and in-
delible, until its pulses cease to beat, for ever.
Oh, how the strife and trouble of daily life receded from
my view, and lessened in the distance, during the ten
memorable days we passed on that Enchanted Ground !
What voices spoke from out the thundering water ; what
faces, faded from the earth, looked out upon me from its
gleaming depths ; what Heavenly promise glistened in those
angels' tears, the drops of many hues, that showered
around, and twined themselves about the gorgeous arches
which the changing rainbows made !
88 NIA<5ARA FALLS
I never stirred in all that time from the Canadian side,
whither I had gone at first. I never crossed the river
again ; for I knew there were people on the other shore,
and in such a place it is natural to shun strange company.
To wander to and fro all day, and see the cataracts from
all points of view; to stand upon the edge of the great
Horse-Shoe Fall, marking the hurried water gathering
strength as it approached the verge, yet seeming too, to
pause before it shot into the gulf below ; to gaze from the
river's level up at the torrent as it came streaming down ;
to climb the neighbouring heights and watch it through the
trees, and see the wreathing water in the rapids hurrying on
to take its fearful plunge ; to linger in the shadow of the
solemn rocks three miles below; watching the river as,
stirred by no visible cause, it heaved and eddied and awoke
the echoes, being troubled yet, far down beneath its surface,
by its giant leap ; to have Niagara before me, lighted by the
sun and by the moon, red in the day's decline, and grey as
evening slowly fell upon it ; to look upon it every day, and
wake up in the night and hear its ceaseless voice : this was
enough.
I think in every quiet season now, still do those waters
roll and leap, and roar and tumble, all day long ; still are
the rainbows spanning them, a hundred feet below. Still,
when the sun is on them, do they shine and glow like
molten gold. Still, when the day is gloomy, do they fall
like snow, or seem to crumble away like the front of a
great chalk cliff, or roll down the rock like dense white
smoke. But always does the mighty stream appear to die
NIAGARA FALLS 89
as it comes down, and always from its unfathomable grave
arises that tremendous ghost of spray and mist which is
never laid : which has haunted this place with the same
dread solemnity since Darkness brooded on the deep, and
that first flood before the Deluge — Light — came rushing on
Creation at the word of God,
American Notes for General Circulation (London, 1842).
FUJI-SAN
(.JAPAN)
SIR EDWIN ARNOLD
I HAVE just made in the company of Captain John
Ingles, R. N., Naval Adviser to the Imperial Govern-
ment of this country, and a young Japanese gentleman —
Mr. Asso — a very fortunate and delightful ascent of Fuji-
San, the famous mountain — you would not wonder, residing
here, that everybody in Japan talks about Fuji, and thinks
about her ; paints her on fans, and limns her with gold on
lacquer ; carves her on temple-gates and house-fronts, and
draws her for curtains of shops and signboards of inns, rest-
houses and public institutions. Living in Tokio or Yoko-
hama, or anywhere along this Tokaido — the Southern road
of Japan — you would soon perceive how the great volcano
dominates every landscape, asserts perpetually her sover-
eignty over au other hills and mountains, and becomes in
reality as well - s imagination, an indispensable element in
the national scenery. Far away at sea, when approaching
Japan, if the weather be clear, long before the faintest blue
line of coast is discernible froni the deck, there is seen
hanging in the air a dim white symmetrical cone, too con-
stant for a cloud, which is Fuji-San. After you have
landed and taken up your residence in Yokohama, Tokio,
or any point of the southeastern littoral, you will be always
FUJI-SAN 91
seeing Fuji-Yama from some garden-nook, some tea-house
gallery, some grove of cryptomerias, or thicket of bamboo,
or even from the railway-carriage window. In the spring
and autumn, as frequently as not, she will, indeed, be
shr-^uded in the dense masses of white or grey cumulus
wnich her crest collects, and seems to create in the mists
of the Pacific. But during summer, when the snows are
all melted from the vast cone, and again in winter, when
she is covered with snow half-way down her colossal sides,
but the air is clear, the superb mountain stands forth, dawn
after dawn, and evening after evening — like no other em-
inence in the world for beauty, majesty, and perfcctness of
outline. There are loftier peaks, of course, for Fuji-San is
not much higher than Mont Blanc, but there is none — not
even Etna — which rises so proudly alone, isolated, distinct,
from the very brink of the sea — with nothing to hide or
diminish the dignity of the splendid and immense curves
sweeping up from where the broad foot rests, planted on
the Suruga Gulf, to where the imperial head soars, lifted
high above the clouds into the blue of the firmament. By
many and many a picture or photograph you must know
well those almost perfectly matched flanks, that massive
base, the towering lines of that mighty cone, slightly
truncated and dentated at the summit. But no picture
gives, and no artist could ever reproduce, the variety and
charm of the aspect which Fuji-San puts on from day to
day and hour to hour under the differing influences of air
and weather. Sometimes it is as a white cloud that you
see her, among the white clouds, changeless among the
gZ FUJI-SAN
changeful shapes from which she emerges. Sometimes
there will break forth, high above all clouds, a patch of
deep grey against the blue, the broad head of Fuji. Some-
times you will only know where she sits by the immense
collection of cirrus and cirro-cumulus there alone gathe-ed
in the sky j and sometimes — principally at dawn and night-
fall — she will suddenly manifest herself, from her foot,
jewelled with rich harvests, to her brow, bare and lonely as
a desert — all violet against the gold of the setting sun, or
else all gold and green against the rose and silver of the
daybreak. . . .
As late as the Fourteenth Century Fuji was constantly
smoking, and fire is spoken of with the eruptions, the last
of which took place in December, 1707, and continued for
nearly forty days. The Ho-Yei-san, or hump in the south
face, was probably then formed. In this, her final out-
break, Fuji covered Tokio itself, sixty miles away, with six
inches of ash, and sent rivers of lava far and wide. Since
then she has slept, and only one little spot underneath
the Kwan-nom-Gatake, on the lip of the crater, where
steam exhales, and the red pumice-cracks are hot, shows
that the heart of this huge volcano yet glows, and that she
is capable of destroying again her own beauty and the
forests and rich regions of fertility which clothe her knees
and feet.
It is a circuit of 120 miles to go all round the base of
Fuji-San. If you could cut a tunnel through her from
Yoshiwara to Kawaguchi, it would be forty miles long-
Generally speaking, the lower portion of the mountain is
FUJI-SAN 93
cultivated to a height of 1,500 feet, and it is a whole prov-
ince which thus climbs round her. From the border of
the farms there begins a rough and wild, but flowery moor-
land, which stretches round the hill to an elevation of 4,000
feet, where there the thick forest-belt commences. This
girdles the volcano up to 7,000 feet on the Subashiri side
and 8,000 on the Murayama fall, but is lower to the east-
ward. Above the forest extends a narrow zone of thicket
and bush, chiefly dwarfed larch, juniper and a vaccinium ;
after which comes the bare, burnt, and terribly majestic peak
itself, where the only living thing is a Httle yellow lichen
which grows in the fissures of the lava blocks, for no eagle
or hawk ventures so high, and the boldest or most bewil-
dered butterfly will not be seen above the bushes half-way
down.
The best — indeed, the only — time for the ascent of the
mountain is between July 15th and Septembei 5th. Dur-
ing this brief season the snow will be melted from the cone,
the huts upon the path will be opened for pilgrims, and
there will be only the danger of getting caught by a typhoon,
or reachi.ig the summit to find it swathed day after day in
clouds, and no view obtainable. Our party of three started
for the ascent on August 25th, taking that one of the many
roads by which Fuji is approached that goes by Subashiri.
Such an expedition may be divided into a series of stages.
You have first to approach the foot of the mountain by
train or otherwise, then to ride through the long slope of
cultivated region. Then, abandoning horses or vehicles, to
traverse on foot the sharper slopes of the forest belt. At
94 FUJI-SAN
the confines of this you will reach the first station, called
Sho or Go ; for Japanese fancy has likened the mountain to
a heap of dry rice and the stations are named by rice-meas-
ure. From the first station to the ninth, whatever road
you take, all will be hard, hot, continuous climbing. You
must go by narrow, bad paths, such as a goat might make,
in loose volcanic dust, gritty pumice, or over the sharp
edges of lava dykes, which cut boots and sandals to
shreds. . . .
At daybreak the horses are brought, and the six coolies,
two by two, bind upon their backs the futons and the food.
We start, a long procession, through a broad avenue in the
forest, riding for five miles, under a lovely dawn, the sun
shining gloriously on the forehead of Fuji, who seems
further off^ and more immensely lofty the nearer we approach.
The woodland is full of wild strawberries and flowers ; in-
cluding tiger-lilies, clematis, Canterbury bells, and the blue
hotari-no hana, or fire-fly blossom. At 6:30 a. m., we
reach Uma-Gayeshi, or " turn-the-horses-back " ; and hence
to the mountain top there is nothing for it but to walk
every step of the long, steep, and diffi<:ult path. Two of
the men with the lightest loads led the way along the nar-
row path, in a wood so thick that we shall not see Fuji
again till we have passed through it. It takes us every
now and then through the gates and precincts of little Shinto
temples, where the priests offer us tea or mountain water.
In one of them, at Ko-mitake, we are invited to ring the
brass gong in order that the Deity may make our limbs
strong for the task before us. And this is solemnly done
FUTI-SAN 95
by all hands, the ninsoku slapping their brown thighs piously
after sounding the bell.
The shortest time in which the ascent has been made is
six hours and a half. We, taking it more easily, made no
attempt to beat the record, and stopped frequently to botan-
ize, geologize, etc. The rarefaction of the air gave our
Japanese companion, Takaji San, a slight headache, which
soon passed as the circulation became accustomed to the at-
mosphere ; but Captain Ingles and I, being I suppose, both in
excellent health and strength, experienced no inconvenience
worth mentioning.
At half-past four next morning, while I was dreaming
under my thick coverings, a hand touched me and a voice
said softly, " Danna Sama, hi no de ! " " Master, here is
the sun ! " The shoji at my feet were thrown open. I
looked out, almost as you might from the moon, over a
prodigious abyss of space, beyond which the eastern rim of
all the world seemed to be on fire with flaming light. A
belt of splendid rose and gold illumined all the horizon,
darting long spears of glory into the dark sky overhead,
gilding the tops of a thousand hills ^ scattered over the purple
plains below, and casting on the unbroken background of
clouds beyond an enormous shadow of Fuji. The spectacle
was of unparalleled :{plendour, recalling Lord Tennyson's
line —
" And, in the East,
God made himself an awful Rose of Dawn."
Moment by moment it grew more wonderful in foveliness of
colour and brilliant birth of day ; and then, suddenly, just
96 FUJI-SAN
when the sun rolled into sight — an orb of gleaming gold,
flooding the world beneath with almost insufferable radiance
— a vast mass of dense white clouds swept before the north
wind over the view, completely blotting out the sun, the
belt of rose and gold, the lighted mountains and plains, and
the lower regions of Fuji-San. It was day again, but misty,
white, and doubtful ; and when we started to climb the last
two stages of the cone the flags of the stations were invis-
ible, and we could not know whether we should find the
summit clear, or wrapped in enveloping clouds.
All was to be fortunate, however, on this happy day;
and after a hard clambering of the remaining 2,000 feet we
planted our staffs victoriously on the level ground of the
crater's lip and gazed north, south, east, and west through
clear and cloudless atmosphere over a prodigious prospect,
whose diameter could not be less than 300 miles. It was
one of the few days when O-ana-mochi, the Lord of the
Great Hole, was wholly propitious ! Behind the long row
of little black huts standing on the edge of the mountain,
gaped that awful, deadly Cup of the Volcano — an immense
pit half a mile wide and six or seven hundred feet deep, its
sides black, yellow, red, white, and grey, with the varying
hues of the lava and scoriae. In one spot where a perpet-
ual shadow lay, from the ridge-peaks of Kcn-ga-mine and
the Shaka-no-wari-ishi, or " Cleft Rock of Buddha,"
gleamed a large patch of unmelted snow, and there was
dust-covered snow at the bottom of the crater. We skirted
part of the crater, passed by the dangerous path which is
styled " Oya-shirazu, Ko-shirazu," ** The place where you
FUJI-SAN 97
must forget parents and children, to take care of yourself; "
saw the issue of the Kim-mei-sai or " Golden famous
water," and of the Gim-mei-sai, or " Silver famous water " ;
and came back to breakfast at our hut silent with the de-
light and glory, the beauty and terror of the scene. Enor-
mous flocks of fleecy clouds and cloudlets wandered in the
lower air, many thousand feet beneath, but nowhere con-
cealed the lakes, peaks, rivers, towns, villages, valleys, sea-
coasts, islands, and distant provinces spreading out all
round. Imagine the prospect obtainable at 13,000 feet of
elevation through the silvery air of Japan on a summer's
morning with not a cloud, except shifting, thin, and transi-
tory ones, to veil the view ! . . .
At the temple with the bell we were duly stamped —
shirts, sticks, and clothing — with the sacred mark of the
mountain, and having made the hearts of our faithful and
patient ninsoku glad with extra pay, turned our backs on the
great extinct volcano, whose crest, glowing again in the
morning sunlight, had no longer any secrets for Captain
Ingles, or Takaji San, or myself.
Seas and Lands (New York, 1891).
THE CEDARS OF LEBANON
(.SYRIA)
ALPHONSE DE LAMARTINE
THE Sheik of Eden, the last inhabited village towards
the summit of Lebanon, was the maternal uncle
of M. Mazoyer, my interpreter. Informed by his nephew
of our arrival in Tripoli, the venerable sheik descended the
mountain with his eldest son and a portion of his retinue ;
he came to visit me at the convent of the Franciscans, and
offered me hospitality at his home in Eden. From Eden
to the Cedars of Solomon it is only a three hours' march ;
and if the snows that cover the mountains will permit us,
we can visit these ancient trees that have spread their glory
over all Lebanon and that are contemporaries of the great
king ; we accepted, and the start was arranged for the
following day.
At five o'clock in the morning we were on horseback.
The caravan, more numerous than usual, was preceded
by the Sheik of Eden, an admirable old man whose elegance
of manner, noble and easy politeness, and magnificent cos-
tume were far from suggesting an Arab chieftain ; one
would have called him a patriarch marching at the head of
his tribe ; he rode upon a mare of the desert whose golden-
bay skin and floating mane would have made a worthy
mount for a hero of Jerusalem ; his son and his principal
THE CEDARS OF LEBANON 99
attendants caracoled upon magnificent stallions, a few paces
before him ; we came next, and then the long file of our
moukres and our Sal's.
The sheik has sent three Arabs over the route to the
Cedars to learn if the snow will permit us to approach
those trees ; the Arabs returning say that access is imprac-
ticable ; there are fourteen feet of snow in a narrow valley
which must be crossed before reaching the trees; — wishing
to get as near as possible, I entreat the sheik to give me
his son and several horsemen; I leave my wife and my
caravan at Eden ; I mount the strongest of my horses,
Scham^ and we are en route at break of day ; — a march of
three hours over the crests of the mountains, or in the fields
softened with melting snow. I arrive at the edge of the
valley of the Saints, a deep gorge where the glance sweeps
from the rocky height to a valley more confined, more
sombre and more solemn even than that of Hamana ; at
the top of this valley, at the place where, after continually
rising, it reaches the snows, a superb sheet of water falls, a
hundred feet high and two or three toises wide ; the entire
valley resounds with this waterfall and the leaping torrents
that it feeds ; on every side the rocky flanks of the moun-
tain stream with foam ; we see almost beyond our vision,
in the depths of the valley, two large villages the houses of
which can scarcely be distinguished from the rocks rolled
down by the torrent ; the tops of the poplars and the mul-
berries from here look like tufts of reed or grass ; we de-
scend to the village of Beschierai by paths cut in the rock,
and so abrupt that one can hardly imagine that men will
100 THE CEDARS OF LEBANON
risk themselves upon them ; people do perish sometimes ; a
stone thrown from the crest where we stand would fall
upon the roofs of these villages where we shall arrive after
an hour's descent ; above the cascade and the snows, enor-
mous fields of ice extend, undulating like vapours in tints
greenish and blue by turns ; in about a quarter of an hour
towards the left in a half circular valley formed by the last
mounts of Lebanon, we see a large, black blot upon the
snow, — the famous group of cedars ; they crown the brow
of the mountain like a diadem ; they mark the branching
off of numerous and large valleys that descend from there ;
the sea and the sky are their horizon.
We put our horses to a gallop over the snow to get as
near as possible to the forest ; but on arriving five or six
hundred steps from the trees, we plunge our horses up to
their shoulders; we realize that the report of the Arabs is
correct, and we must renounce the hope of touching these
relics of the centuries and of nature; we alight and sit
upon a rock to contemplate them.
These trees are the most celebrated natural monuments
in the whole universe. Religion, poetry, and history have
equally consecrated them. Holy Writ celebrates them in
several places. They are one of the favourite images which
the prophets employ. Solomon wished to consecrate them
— doubtless on account of the renown of magnificence and
sanctity that these prodigies of vegetation enjoyed at this
epoch — to the ornamentation of the temple that he was the
first to elevate to the one God. These were certainly the
trees ; for Ezekiel speaks of the cedars of Eden as the most
THE CEDARS OF LEBANON 101
beautiful of Lebanon. The Arabs of all sects have a tra-
ditional veneration for them. They attribute to these trees,
not only a vegetative force that gives them eternal life, but
even a soul that makes them give signs of wisdom, of fore-
sight, similar to those of instinct in animals and intelligence
in men. They know the seasons in advance ; they move
their enormous branches like human limbs, they spread or
contract their boughs, they raise their branches towards the
sky or incline them to the earth, according as the snow is
preparing to fall or to melt. They are divine beings under
the form of trees. They grow on this single spot of the
mounts of Lebanon ; they take root far beyond the region
where all prolific vegetation dies. All this strikes the
imagination of the Oriental people with astonishment, and
I do not know that science is not even more astonished.
Alas ! however, Basan languishes and Carmel and the
flower of Lebanon fade. — These trees diminish every cen-
tury. Travellers formerly counted thirty or forty, later
seventeen, and still later, about a dozen. — There are now
only seven of those whose massive forms can presume to
be contemporaneous with Biblical times. Around these
old memorials of past ages, which know the history of the
ground better than history herself, and which could tell us,
if they could speak, of many empires, religions, and vanished
human races, there remains still a little forest of cedars
more yellow it appears to me than a group of four or five
hundred trees or shrubs. Each year in the month of June
the population of Beschierai, Eden, and Kanobin, and all
the villages of the neighbouring valleys, ascend to the cedars
102 THE CEDARS OF LEBANON
and celebrate mass at their feet. How many prayers have
resounded beneath their branches ! And what more beau-
tiful temple, what nearer altar than the sky ! What more
majestic and holier dais than the highest plateau of Lebanon,
the trunks of the cedars and the sacred boughs that have
shaded and that will still shade so many human generations
pronouncing differently the name of God, but who recog-
nize him everywhere in his works and adore him in his
manifestations of nature ! And I, I also prayed in the
presence of those trees. The harmonious wind that re-
sounded through their sonorous branches played in my hair
and froze upon my eyelids those tears of sorrow and adora-
tion.
Voyage en Orient (Paris, 1843).
THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY
{IRELAND)
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
THE road to the Causeway is bleak, wild, and hilly.
The cabins along the road are scarcely better than
those of Kerry, the inmates as ragged, and more fierce and
dark-looking. I never was so pestered by juvenile beggars
as in the dismal village of Ballintoy. A crowd of them
rushed after the car, calling for money in a fierce manner,
as if it was their right ; dogs as fierce as the children came
yelling after the vehicle ; and the faces which scowled out
of the black cabins were not a whit more good-humoured.
We passed by one or two more clumps of cabins, with their
turf and corn-stacks lying together at the foot of the hills j
placed there for the convenience of the children, doubtless,
who can thus accompany the car either way, and shriek out
their " Bonny gantleman, gi'e us a ha'p'ny." A couple of
churches, one with a pair of its pinnacles blown off, stood
in the dismal open country, and a gentleman's house here
and there : there were no trees about them, but a brown
graso round about — hills rising and falling in front, and the
sea beyond. The occasional view of the coast was noble;
wild Bengore towering eastwards as we went along; Ra-
ghery Island before us, in the steep rocks and caves of which
Bruce took shelter when driven from yonder Scottish coast,
that one sees stretching blue in the northeast.
104 THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY
I think this wild gloomy tract through which one passes
is a good prelude for what is to be the great sight of the
day, and got my mind to a proper state of awe by the time
we were near the journey's end. Turning away shore-
wards by the fine house of Sir Francis Macnaghten, I went
towards a lone handsome inn, that stands close to the
Causeway. The landlord at Ballycastle had lent me Ham-
ilton's book to read on the road; but I had not time then
to read more than half-a-dozen pages of it. They de-
scribed how the author, a clergyman distinguished as a man
of science, had been thrust out of a friend's house by the
frightened servants one wild night, and butchered by some
Whiteboys who were waiting outside and called for his
blood. I had been told at Belfast that there was a corpse
in the inn : was it there now ? It had driven ofF, the car-
boy said, " in a handsome hearse and four to Dublin the
whole way." It was gone, but I thought the house looked
as if the ghost was there. See, yonder are the black rocks
stretching to Portrush : how leaden and grey the sea looks !
how grey and leaden the sky ! You hear the waters rush-
ing evermore, as they have done since the beginning of the
world. The car drives us with a dismal grinding noise of
the wheels to the big lone house : there's no smoke in the
chimneys ; the doors are locked. Three savage-looking
men rush after the car : are they the men who took out Mr.
Hamilton — took him out and butchered him in the moon-
light ? Is everybody, I wonder, dead in that big house ?
Will they let us in before those men are up ? Out comes
a pretty smiling girl, with a curtsey, just as the savages are
THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY IO5
at the car, and you are ushered into a very comfortable
room ; and the men turn out to be guides. Well, thank
Heaven it's no worse ! I had fifteen pounds still left ; and,
when desperate, have no doubt should fight like a lion.
The traveller no sooner issues from the inn by a back
door, which he is informed will lead him straight to the
Causeway, than the guides pounce upon him, with a dozen
rough boatmen who are likewise lying in wait ; and a crew
of shrill beggar-boys, with boxes of spars, ready to tear him
and each other to pieces seemingly, yell and bawl inces-
santly round him. "I'm the guide Miss Henry recom-
mends," shouts one. " I'm Mr. Macdonald's guide,"
pushes in another. " This way," roars a third, and drags
his prey down a precipice ; the rest of them clambering
and quarrelling after. I had no friends ; I was perfectly
helpless. I wanted to walk down to the shore by myself,
but they would not let me, and I had nothing for it but to
yield myself into the hands of the guide who had seized
me, who hurried me down the steep to a little wild bay,
flanked on each side by rugged clifFs and rocks, against
which the waters came tumbling, frothing, and roaring
furiously. Upon some of these black rocks two or three
boats were lying : four men seized a boat, pushed it shout-
ing into the water, and ravished me into it. We had slid
between two rocks, where the channel came gurgling in:
we were up one swelling wave that came in a huge ad-
vancing body ten feet above us, and were plunging madly
down another (the descent causes a sensation in the lower
regions of the stomach which it is not at all necessary here
I06 THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY
to describe), before I had leisure to ask myself why the
deuce I was in that boat, with four rowers hurrooing and
bounding madly from one liquid mountain to another — four
rowers whom I was bound to pay. I say, the query came
qualmishly across me why the devil I was there, and why
not walking calmly on the shore.
The guide began pouring his professional jargon into my
ears. " Every one of them bays," says he, " has a name
(take my place, and the spray won't come over you) : that
is Port NofFer, and the next. Port na Gange; them rocks
is the Stookawns (for every rock has its name as well as
every bay); and yonder — ^give way, my boys, — hurray,
we're over it now : has it wet you much, sir ? — that's a
little cave : it goes five hundred feet under ground, and the
boats goes into it easy of a calm day."
" Is it a fine day or a rough one now ? " said I ; the in-
ternal disturbance going on with more severity than ever.
" It's betwixt and between ; or, I may say, neither one
nor the other. Sit up, sir. Look at the entrance of the
cave. Don't be afraid, sir ; never has an accident happened
in any one of these boats, and the most delicate ladies has
rode in them on rougher days than this. Now, boys, pull
to the big cave. That, sir, is six hundred and sixty yards
in length, though some say it goes for miles inland, where
the people sleeping in their houses hear the waters roaring
under them."
The water was tossing and tumbling into the mouth of
the little cave. I looked, — for the guide would not let me
alone till I did, — and saw what might be <*xpected : a black
THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY 107
hole of some forty feet high, into which it was no more
possible to see than into a millstone. " For Heaven's sake,
sir," says I, " if you've no particular wish to see the mouth
of the big cave, put about and let us see the Causeway and
get ashore." This was done, the guide meanwhile telling
some story of a ship of the Spanish Armada having fired
her guns at two peaks of rock, then visible, which the crew
mistook for chimney-pots — what benighted fools these
Spanish Armadilloes must have been ; it is easier to see a
rock than a chimney-pot ; it is easy to know that chimney-
pots do not grow on rocks. — ^' But where, if you please, is
the Causeway ? "
" That's the Causeway before you," says the guide.
" Which ? "
" That pier which you see jutting out into the bay right
ahead."
" Mon dteu ! and have I travelled a hundred and fifty
miles to see that F "
I declare, upon my conscience, the barge moored at
Hungerford Market is a more majestic object, and seems
to occupy as much space. As for telling a man that the
Causeway is merely a part of the sight ; that he is there for
the purpose of examining the surrounding scenery ; that if
he looks to the westward he will see Portrush and Donegal
Head before him; that the cliffs immediately in his front
are green in some places, black in others, interspersed with
blotches of brown and streaks of vendure ; — what is all this
to a lonely individual lying sick in a boat, between two im-
mense waves that only give him momentary glimpses of the
I08 THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY
land in question, to show that it is frightfully near, and yet
you are an hour from it ? They won't let you go away —
that cursed guide will tell out his stock of legends and
stories. The boatmen insist upon your looking at boxes
of " specimens," which you must buy of them ; they laugh
as you grow paler and paler j they offer you more and more
" specimens " ; even the dirty lad who pulls number three,
and is not allowed by his comrades to speak, puts in his
oar, and hands you over a piece of Irish diamond (it looks
like half-sucked alicompayne), and scorns you. " Hurry,
lads, now for it, give way ! " how the oars do hurtle in the
rowlocks, as the boat goes up an aqueous mountain, and
then down into one of those cursed maritime valleys where
there is no rest as on shore !
At last, after they had pulled me enough about, and sold
me all the boxes of specimens, I was permitted to land at
the spot whence we set out, and whence, though we had
been rowing for an hour, we had never been above five
hundred yards distant. Let all cockneys take warning from
this ; let the solitary one caught issuing from the back door
of the hotel, shout at once to the boatmen to be gone —
that he will have none of them. Let him, at any rate, go
first down to the water to determine whether it be smooth
enough to allow him to take any decent pleasure by riding
on its surface. For after all, it must be remembered that
it is pleasure we come for — that we are not obliged to take
those boats. — Well, well ! I paid ten shillings for mine, and
ten minutes after would cheerfully have paid five pounds
to be allowed to quit it ; it was no hard bargain after all.
THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY IO9
As for the boxes of spar and specimens, I at once, being on
terra firma, broke my promise, and said I would see them
all — first. It is wrong to swear, I know ; but sometimes
it relieves one so much !
The first act on shore was to make a sacrifice to Sanctis-
sima Tellus ; offering up to her a neat and becoming Tag-
lioni coat, bought for a guinea in Covent Garden only three
months back. I sprawled on my back on the smoothest of
rocks that is, and tore the elbows to pieces : the guide
picked me up ; the boatman did not stir, for they had their
will of me ; the guide alone picked me up, I say, and bade
me follow him. We went across a boggy ground in one
of the little bays, round which rise the green walls of the
cliff, terminated on either side by a black crag, and the line
of the shore washed by the poluphloisboiotic, nay the pol-
uphloisboiotatotic sea. Two beggars stepped over the bog
after us howling for money, and each holding up a cursed
box of specimens. No oaths, threats, entreaties, would
drive these vermin away ; for some time the whole scene
had been spoiled by the incessant and abominable jargon of
them, the boatmen, and the guides. 1 was obliged to give
them money to be left in quiet, and if, as no doubt will be
the case, the Giant's Causeway shall be a still greater re-
sort of travellers than ever, the county must put police-
men on the rocks to keep the beggars away, or fling them
in the water when they appear.
And now, by force of money, having got rid of the sea
and land beggars, you are at liberty to examine at your
leisure the wonders of the place. There is not the least
no THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY
need for a guide to attend the stranger, unless the latter
have a mind to listen to a parcel of legends, which may be
well from the mouth of a wild simple peasant who believes
in his tales, but are odious from a dullard who narrates
them at the rate of sixpence a lie. Fee him and the other
beggars, and at last you are left tranquil to look at the
strange scene with your own eyes, and enjoy your own
thoughts at leisure.
That is, if the thoughts awakened by such a scene may
be called enjoyment ; but for me, I confess, they are too
near akin to fear to be pleasant ; and I don't know that I
would desire to change that sensation of awe and terror
which the hour's walk occasioned, for a greater familiarity
with this wild, sad, lonely place. The solitude is awful. I
can't understand how those chattering guides dare to lift
up their voices here, and cry for money.
It looks like the beginning of the world, somehow : the
sea looks older than in other places, the hills and rocks
strange, and formed differently from other rocks and hills —
as those vast dubious monsters were formed who possessed
the earth before man. The hilltops are shattered into a
thousand cragged fantastical shapes ; the water comes
swelling into scores of little strange creeks, or goes off
with a leap, roaring into those mysterious caves yonder,
which penetrate who knows how far into our common
world. The savage rock-sides are painted of a hundred
colours. Does the sun ever shine here ? When the world
was moulded and fashioned out of formless chaos, this
must have been the bit over — a remnant of chaos ! Think
THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY III
of that ! — it is a tailor's simile. Well, I am a cockney : I
wish I were in Pall Mall ! Yonder is a kelp-burner : a
lurid smoke from his burning kelp rises up to the leaden
sky, and he looks as naked and fierce as Cain. Bubbling
up out of the rocks at the very brim of the sea rises a little
crystal spring : how comes it there ? and there is an old
grey hag beside, who has been there for hundreds and hun-
dreds of years, and there sits and sells whisky at the ex-
tremity of creation ! How do you dare to sell whisky
there, old woman ? Did you serve old Saturn with a glass
when he lay along the Causeway here ? In reply, she
says, she has no change for a shilling : she never has ; but
her whisky is good.
This is not a description of the Giant's Causeway (as
some clever critic will remark), but of a Londoner there,
who is by no means so interesting an object as the natural
curiosity in question. That single hint is sufficient ; I
have not a word more to say. " If," says he, " you cannot
describe the scene lying before us — if you cannot state
from your personal observation that the number of basaltic
pillars composing the Causeway has been computed at
about forty thousand, which vary in diameter, their surface
presenting the appearance of a tesselated pavement of
polygonal stones — that each pillar is formed of several dis-
tinct joints, the convex end of the one being accurately
fitted in the concave of the next, and the length of the
joints varying from five feet to four inches — that although
the pillars are polygonal, there is but one of three sides in
the whole forty thousand (think of that !), but three of nine
112 THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY
sides, and that it may be safely computed that ninety-nine
out of one hundred pillars have either five, six, or seven
sides ; if you cannot state something useful, you had much
better, sir, retire and get your dinner."
Never was summons more gladly obeyed. The dinner
must be ready by this time ; so, remain you, and look on
at the awful scene, and copy it down in words if you can.
If at the end of the trial you are dissatisfied with your
skill as a painter, and find that the biggest of your words
cannot render the hues and vastness of that tremendous
swelling sea — of those lean solitary crags standing rigid along
the shore, where they have been watching the ocean ever
since it was made — of those grey towers of Dunluce
standing upon a leaden rock, and looking as if some old
old princess, of old old fairy times, were dragon-guarded
within — of yon flat stretches of sand where the Scotch and
Irish mermaids hold conference — come away, too, and
prate no more about the scene ! There is that in nature,
dear Jenkins, which passes even our powers. We can feel
the beauty of a magnificent landscape, perhaps : but we
can describe a leg of mutton and turnips better. Come,
then, this scene is for our betters to depict. If Mr. Tenn-
yson were to come hither for a month, and brood over the
place, he might, in some of those lofty heroic lines which
the author of the Morte d' Arthur knows how to pile up,
convey to the reader a sense of this gigantic desolate scene.
What ! you, too, are a poet ? Well, then Jenkins, stay !
but believe me, you had best take my advice, and come ofF.
The Irish Sketch-Book (London, 1843).
THE GREAT GLACIER OF THE SELKIRKS
( CANADA )
DOUGLAS SLADEN
IF Banff represents the Rocky Mountains made easy, the
Glacier House represents the Selkirks made easy — a
much more notable performance, for these mountains had
long been regarded as impassable by engineering. The
Glacier House is a few miles beyond Rogers' Pass, in the
midst of the line's greatest marvels of nature and engineer-
ing. Just before comes the monarch of snow sheds ; just
above the monarch of glaciers ; just below the monarch of
viaducts. The Great Glacier of the Selkirks comes to a
conclusion within a couple of miles above it. The moraines
and splintered forests at its foot tell a frightful tale of de-
struction, and the glacier advances every year; but only a
few inches, so the hotel is safe for the present.
The hotel is a pretty little chalet, mostly dining-room,
with a trim, level lawn in front containing a fine fountain.
Eighteen miles broad is the great Glacier of the Sel-
kirks, one foot of which is planted so threateningly above
the hotel and the railway station, that it looks as if it meant
to stamp them out of existence with the stealth of a thief
in the night.
A marvellous and delightful walk it is from the hotel to
the Glacier — at first through dry woods of fir and spruce,
1 14 THE GREAT GLACIER OF THE SELKIRKS
and balsam and tamarack, carpeted, wherever the sun
breaks through, with purple blueberries, wild raspberries,
pigeon and salmon berries. Here you might meet a grizzly
bear any minute. You pause, if you are only a man and a
woman, on the lovers' seat under the thousand-ton boulder
hurled down by the Glacier in the childhood of the earth.
Then you pass the fierce glacial torrent of grey-green
water, so cold or charged with impurities that fish refuse to
live in it, swelling, as all snow-fed rivers do, as the heat of
a summer's day waxes. Some of its pools are huge and
deep ; some of its falls and rapids as fierce as the cataract at
Lorette, rounded boulders and splintered trunks every-
where attesting its fury. The path crosses and recrosses
the river over bridges of tree-trunks, with smaller trunks
loosely pinned across them, like the little straw mats in
which cream cheeses are wrapped. As the path mounts,
the scenery becomes more open, and you are greeted, ac-
cording to the season, with Canada's gorgeous lily or
Canada's prodigality of wild fruits ; for you are in the track
of the glacier and the avalanche, and in the death of the
forest is the birth of blossoms and berries. All around you
now is a scene of awful grandeur — boulders as big as
settlers* huts, and giant tree trunks, many of them blackened
with fire, tossed together like the rubbish on a dust-heap,
and, brooding over all, the great Glacier like a dragon
crouching for the spring. One can hardly believe it is the
Glacier ; the transitions are so abrupt. A turn of a path
brings you almost in contact with a piece of ice larger than
any lake in the British Islands. From under its skirts
THE GREAT GLACIER OF THE SELKIRKS II5
trickle tiny rills ; a few feet below, the rills league them-
selves into a river. Even a first-class glacier is a disap-
pointing affair if you go too close. Its blueness disappears,
also its luminosity, except in crevasses deep enough to
show you the pure heart of the ice. The surface is a dirty-
looking mixture of ice and snow. There were two lovely
horizontal crevasses, one so spacious and shining that it is
called the Fairy Cavern. The pleasure of standing in them
is spoilt, because they look all the time as if they were
going to close on you. At another foot of the Glacier there
are immense moraines, looking like the earthworks of
Dover Castle. I examined them one October day when I
went with a guide to the top of the Glacier, eight thousand
feet above sea-level, to see the splendid Glacier-girdled
head of Mount Fox on the other side of the abyss.
I never intend to do any more mountain climbing
through deep, fresh snow. For the last hour or two of the
ascent the snow was as deep as one's thighs at every step,
and though the guide was towing me by a rope tied round
my waist, it was intolerably wearisome. To begin with, he
had to sound with his staff at every step and see that we
were on terra firma^ and not on the soufflet of a crevasse ;
and though there had been such a snowfall the night be-
fore, the sun was as hot as summer overhead. The sight
was worth doing once, with the miles and miles of the sea
of ice all round one, and the long white slopes of virgin
snow.
If it had not been for the aggressive vis^e of Mount
Fox, it would have answered to the description of the in-
Il6 THE GREAT GLACIER OF THE SELKIRKS
terior of Greenland given me by Dr. Nansen, where the
world consists of yourselves, the sun, and the snow. We
started at eight o'clock in the morning, but in some way or
other I was not quite as rapid as the guide had calculated,
for a couple of hours before nightfall he began to get ex-
cited, if not alarmed. We were at the time clear of the
deep snow, and muddling about in a mixture of drifts and
moraines; but after dark he was not sure of his way until
we struck the path at the foot of the Glacier.
The Glacier House has not only its noble and easily ac-
cessible glacier; it is in the very heart of the finest
mountain scenery in the Selkirks, which is so different to
the scenery of the Rockies. The Canadian Rockies are
blunt-topped fisty mountains, with knuckles of bare rock
sticking out everywhere. The Selkirks are graceful pyra-
mids and sharp sierras, up to their shoulders in magnificent
forests of lofty pines. The trees on the Rockies are much
smaller and poorer. Right above the hotel, to the left of
the overhanging Glacier, is the bare steeple of Sir Donald,
one of the monarchs of the range ; Ross Peak and Cheops
frown on the descent of the line to the Pacific ; and the
line of the Atlantic is guarded by the hundred pinnacles of
the rifted mountain, formerly known as the Hermit, and
now, with singular infelicity, re-christened, in an eponymous
fit. Mount Tupper.
Sir Charles Tupper is one of Canada's greatest men, but
his name is more suitable for a great man than a great
mountain, especially since there is a very perfect effect of
a hermit and his dog formed by bouxders near the top of
"^p
■■J
^^^^^E ' -^''''l^^iflPfi^B^^^^^^^^^^^I
'^i^^l
^^^^^^^H'- 'iJ^r ' ' ^^Hl^M^aH
1'
i
'v" -'
1
iJH
-, y^e^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^kjm^^^^^^^m^^^
THE GREAT GLACIER OF THE SELKIRKS I 1 7
the mountain. The men in the railway camp have got
over this difficulty with the doggerel :
" That's Sir Charles Tupper
Going home to his supper."
We made two long stays at the Glacier House, and I
never enjoyed anything more in my life than the effect of
the snug little chalet, with its velvety lawn, in the strong-
hold of the giant mountains, brought into touch with the
great world twice a day by the trains east and west, which
echoed their approach and departure miles on miles through
the ranges.
On the Cars and Off (London, 1895).
MAUNA LOA
( HA WAin
LADY BRASSEY
AT 6:30 A. M., we made the island of Hawaii,
rather too much to leeward, as we had been carried
by the strong current at least eighteen miles out of our course.
We were therefore obliged to beat up to windward, in the
course of which operation we passed a large bark running be-
fore the wind — the first ship we had seen since leaving Tahiti
— and also a fine whale, blowing close to us. We could not
see the high land in the centre of the island, owing to the
mist in which it was enveloped, and there was great excite-
ment and much speculation on board as to the principal
points which were visible. At noon the observations taken
proved that Tom was right in his opinion as to our exact
position. The wind dropped as we approached the coast,
where we could see the heavy surf dashing against the black
lava cliffs, rushing up the little creeks, and throwing its
spray in huge fountain-like jets high above the tall cocoanut-
trees far inland.
We sailed along close to the shore, and by two o'clock
were near the entrance to the Bay of Hilo. In answer to
our signal for a pilot, a boat came off with a man who said
he knew the entrance to the harbour, but informed us that
the proper pilot had gone to Honolulu on a pleasure trip.
MAUN A LOA MQ
It was a clear afternoon. The mountains, Mauna Kea
and Mauna Loa, could be plainly seen from top to bottom,
their giant crests rising nearly 14,000 feet above our heads,
their tree and fern clad slopes seamed with deep gulches
or ravines, down each of which a fertilizing river ran into
the sea. Inside the reef, the white coral shore, on which
the waves seemed too lazy to break, is fringed with a belt
of cocoanut palms, amongst which, as well as on the hill-
sides, the little white houses are prettily dotted. All are
surrounded by gardens, so full of flowers that the bright
patches of colour were plainly visible even from the deck of
the yacht. The harbour is large, and is exposed only to
one bad wind, which is most prevalent during the winter
months.
It was half-past nine before we were all mounted and
fairly off. The first part of our way lay along the flat
ground, gay with bright scarlet Guernsey lilies, and shaded
by cocoanut-trees, between the town and the sea. Then
we struck off to the right, and soon left the town behind
us, emerging into the open country. At a distance from
the sea, Hilo looks as green as the Emerald Isle itself; but
on a closer inspection the grass turns out to be coarse and
dry, and many of the trees look scrubby and half dead.
Except in the "gulches" and the deep holes, between the
hills, the island is covered with lava, in many places of so
recent a deposit that it has not yet had time to decompose,
and there is consequently only a thin layer of soil on its
surface. The soil being, however, very rich, vegetation
flourishes luxuriantly for a time ; but as soon as the roots
120 MAUNA LOA
have penetrated a certain depth, and have come into con-
tact with the lava, the trees wither up and perish, like the
seed that fell on stony ground.
The ohia trees form a handsome feature in the landscape,
with their thick stems, glossy foliage, and light crimson
flowers. The fruit is a small, pink, waxy-looking apple,
slightly acid, pleasant to the taste when you are thirsty,
The candle-nut trees attain to a large size, and their light
green foliage and white flowers have a very graceful ap-
pearance. Most of the foHage, however, is spoiled by a de-
posit of a black dust, not unlike what one sees on the
leaves of a London garden. I do not know whether this i
caused by the fumes of the not far-distant volcano, or
whether it is some kind of mold or fungus.
After riding about ten miles in the blazing sun we
reached a forest, where the vegetation was quite tropical,
though not so varied in its beauties as that of Brazil, or of
the still more lovely South Sea Islands. There were ferns
of various descriptions in the forest, and many fine trees,
entwined, supported, or suffocated by numerous climbing
plants, amongst which were blue and lilac convolvulus, and
magnificent passion-flowers. The protection from the sun
afforded by this dense mass of foliage was extremely grate-
ful ; but the air of the forest was close and stifling, and at
the end of five miles we were glad to emerge once more
into the open. The rest of the way lay over the hard lava,
through a desert of scrubby vegetation, occasionally re-
lieved by clumps of trees in hollows. More than once we
had a fine view of the sea, stretching away into the far dis-
MAUNA LOA 121
tance, though it was sometimes mistaken for the bright blue
sky, until the surf could be seen breaking upon the black
rocks, amid the encircling groves of cocoanut-trees.
The sun shone fiercely at intervals, and the rain came
down several times in torrents. The pace was slow, the
road was dull and dreary, and many were the inquiries
made for the *' Half-way House," long before we reached
it.
Directly we had finished our meal — about three o'clock —
the guide came and tried to persuade us that, as the baggage
mules had not yet arrived, it would be too late for us to go
on to-day, and that we had better spend the night where
we were, and start early in the morning. We did not, how-
ever, approve of this arrangement, so the horses were sad-
dled, and leaving word that the baggage-mules were to fol-
low us on as soon as possible, we mounted, and set off^ for
the " Volcano House." We had not gone far before we
were again overtaken by a shower, which once more
drenched us to the skin.
The scene was certainly one of extreme beauty. The
moon was hidden by a cloud, and the prospect lighted only
by the red glare of the volcano, which hovered before and
above us like the Israelites' pillar of fire, giving us hope of
a splendid spectacle when we should at last reach the long
wished-for crater. Presently the moon shone forth again,
and gleamed and glistened on the raindrops and silver grasses
till they looked like fireflies and glowworms. When
we emerged from the wood, we found ourselves at
the very edge of the old crater, the bed of which, three of
122 MAUNA LOA
four hundred feet beneath us, was surrounded by steep and
in many places overhanging sides. It looked like an enor-
mous caldron, four or five miles in vv^idth, full of a mass of
coloured pitch. In the centre was the still glowing stream
of dark red lava, flowing slowly towards us, and in every
direction were red-hot patches, and flames and smoke issu-
ing from the ground. A bit of the " black country " at
night, with all the coal-heaps on fire, would give you some
idea of the scene. Yet the first sensation is rather one of
disappointment, as one expects greater activity on the part of
the volcano ; but the new crater was still to be seen, con-
taining the lake of fire, with steep walls rising up in the
midst of the sea of lava. . . .
The grandeur of the view in the direction of the volcano
increased as the evening wore on. The fiery cloud above
the present crater augmented in size and depth of colour;
the extinct crater glowed red in thirty or forty different
places ; and clouds of white vapour issued from every crack
and crevice in the ground, adding to the sulphurous smell
with which the atmosphere was laden. Our room faced
the volcano : there were no blinds, and I drew back the
curtains and lay watching the splendid scene until I fell
asleep.
Sunday, December 24th (Christmas Eve).
I was up at four o'clock, to gaze once more on the won-
drous spectacle that lay before me. The molten lava still
flowed in many places, the red cloud over the fiery lake was
bright as ever, and the stream was slowly ascending in every
MAUNA LOA 1 23
direction, over hill and valley, till, as the sun rose, it became
difficult to distinguish clearly the sulphurous vapours from
the morning mists. We walked dovv'n to the Sulphur Banks,
about a quarter of a mile from the " Volcano House," and
burned our gloves and boots in our endeavours to procure
crystals, the beauty of w^hich generally disappeared after a
very short exposure to the air. We succeeded, hov^^ever,
in finding a few good specimens, and, by wrapping them at
once in paper and cotton-wool and putting them into a
bottle, hope to bring them home uninjured.
On our return we found a gentleman who had just ar-
rived from Kan, and who proposed to join us in our expedi-
tion to the crater, and at three o'clock in the afternoon we
set out, a party of eight, with two guides, and three porters
to carry our wraps and provisions, and to bring back
specimens. Before leaving the inn the landlord came to us
and begged us in an earnest and confidential manner to be
very careful to do exactly what our guides told us, and es-
pecially to follow in their footsteps exactly when returning
in the dark. He added : " There never has been an acci-
dent happen to anybody from my house, and I should feel
real mean if one did : but there have been a power of
narrow escapes."
First of all we descended the precipice, 300 feet in
depth, forming the wall of the old crater, but now thickly
covered with vegetation. It is so steep in many places that
flights of zigzag wooden steps have been inserted in the
face of the clifF in some places, in order to render the
descent practicable. At the bottom we stepped straight on
124 MAUNA LOA
to the surface of cold boiled lava, which we had seen from
above last night. Even here, in every crevice where a few
grains of soil had collected, delicate little ferns might be
seen struggling for life, and thrusting out their green fronds
towards the light. It was the most extraordinary walk
imaginable over that vast plain of lava, twisted and distorted
into every conceivable shape and form, according to the
temperature it had originally attained, and the rapidity with
which it had cooled, its surface, like half-molten glass,
cracking and breaking beneath our feet. Sometimes we
came to a patch that looked like the contents of a pot, sud-
denly petrified in the act of boiling ; sometimes the black
iridescent lava had assumed the form of waves, or more
frequently of huge masses of rope, twisted and coiled to-
gether ; sometimes it was piled up like a collection of
organ-pipes, or had gathered into mounds and cones of
various dimensions. As we proceeded the lava became
hotter and hotter, and from every crack arose gaseous
fumes, affecting our noses and throats in a painful manner;
till at last, when we had to pass to leeward of the molten
stream flowing from the lake, the vapours almost choked
us, and it was with diflSculty we continued to advance.
The lava was more glassy and transparent-looking, as if it
had been fused at a higher temperature than usual ; and
the crystals of sulphur, alum, and other minerals, with
which it abounded, reflected the light in bright prismatic
colours. In places it was quite transparent, and we could
see beneath it the long streaks of a stringy kind of lava, like
brown spun glass, called " Pele's hair."
MAUNA LOA 1 25
At last we reached the foot of the present crater, and
commenced the ascent of the outer wall. Many times the
thin crust gave way beneath our guide, and he had to retire
quickly from the hot, blinding, choking fumes that immedi-
ately burst forth. But we succeeded in reaching the top ;
and then what a sight presented itself to our astonished
eyes ! I could neither speak nor move at first, but could
only stand and gaze at the terrible grandeur of the scene.
We were standing on the extreme edge of the precipice,
overhanging a lake of molten fire, a hundred feet below us,
and nearly a mile across. Dashing against the cliffs on the
opposite side, with a noise like the roar of a stormy ocean,
waves of blood-red, fiery, liquid lava hurled their billows
upon an iron-bound headland, and then rushed up the face
of the cliffs to toss their gory spray high in the air. The
restless, heaving lake boiled and bubbled, never remaining
the same for two minutes together. Its normal colour
seemed to be a dull, dark red, covered with a thin grey
scum, which every moment and in every part swelled and
cracked, and emitted fountains, cascades, and whirlpools of
yellow and red fire, while sometimes one big golden river,
sometimes four or five flowed across it. There was an
island on one side of the lake, which the fiery waves seemed
to attack unceasingly with relentless fury, as if bent on
hurling it from its base. On the other side was a large
cavern, into which the burning mass rushed with a loud
roar, breaking down in its impetuous headlong career the
gigantic stalactites that overhung the mouth of the cave, and
flinging up the liquid material for the formation of fresh ones.
126 MAUNA LOA
It was all terribly grand, magnificently sublime ; but no
words could adequately describe such a scene. The preci-
pice on which we were standing overhung the crater so
much that it was impossible to see what was going on im-
mediately beneath ; but from the columns of smoke and
vapour that arose, the flames and sparks that constantly
drove us back from the edge, it was easy to imagine that
there must have been two or three grand fiery fountains be-
low. As the sun set, and the darkness enveloped the
scene, it became more awful than ever. We retired a little
way from the brink, to breathe some fresh air, and to try
and eat the food we had brought with us ; but this was an
impossibility. Every instant a fresh explosion or glare
made us jump up to survey the stupendous scene. The
violent struggles of the lava to escape from its fiery bed,
and the loud and awful noises by which they were at
times accompanied, suggested the idea that some impris-
oned monsters were trying to release themselves from their
bondage with shrieks and groans, and cries of agony and
despair, at the futility of their efforts.
Sometimes there were at least seven spots on the borders
of the lake where the molten lava dashed up furiously
against the rocks — seven fire-fountains playing simultane-
ously. With the increasing darkness the colours emitted
by the glowing mass became more and more wonderful,
varying from the deepest jet-black to the palest grey, from
darkest maroon through cherry and scarlet to the most delicate
pink, violet, and blue ; from the richest brown, through orange
and yellow, to the lightest straw-colour. And there was yet an-
MAUN A LOA 127
Other shade, only describable by the term " molten-lava col-
our." Even the smokes and vapours were rendered beautiful
by their borrow^ed lights and tints, and the black peaks, pin-
nacles, and crags, which surrounded the amphitheatre,
formed a splendid and appropriate background. Sometimes
great pieces broke off and tumbled with a crash into the
burning lake, only to be remelted and thrown up anew. I
had for some time been feeling very hot and uncomfort-
able, and on looking round the cause was at once appar-
ent. Not two inches beneath the surface, the grey lava on
which wc were standing and sitting was red-hot. A stick
thrust through it caught fire, a piece of paper was immedi-
ately destroyed, and the gentlemen found the heat from the
crevices so great that they could not approach near enough
to light their pipes.
One more last look, and then we turned our faces away
from the scene that had enthralled us for so many hours.
The whole of the lava we had crossed, in the extinct
crater, was now aglow in many patches, and in all direc-
tions flames were bursting forth, fresh lava was flowing,
and smoke and steam were issuing from the surface. It
was a toilsome journey back again, walking as we did in
single file, and obeying the strict injunctions of our head
guide to follow him closely, and to tread exactly in his foot-
steps. On the whole it was easier by night than by day
to distinguish the route to be taken, as we could now sec
the dangers that before we could only feel ; and many were
the fiery crevices we stepped over or jumped across. Once
I slipped, and my foot sank through the thin crust. Sparks
128 MAUNA LOA
issued from the ground, and the stick on which I leaned
caught fire before I could fairly recover myself.
Monday, December 25th, (Christmas Day).
Turning in last night was the work of a very few
minutes, and this morning I awoke perfectly refreshed and
ready to appreciate anew the wonders of the prospect that
met my eyes. The pillar of fire was still distinctly visible,
when I looked out from my window, though it was not so
bright as when I had last seen it : but even as I looked it
began to fade, and gradually disappeared. At the same
moment a river of glowing lava issued from the side of the
bank which we had climbed with so much difficulty yester-
day, and slowly but surely overflowed the ground we had
walked over. I woke Tom, and you may imagine the
feelings with which we gazed upon this startling phenom-
enon, which, had it occurred a few hours earlier, might have
caused the destruction of the whole party.
A Voyage in the Sunbeam (London, 1878).
TROLLHATTA
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
WHbM did we meet at Trollhatta ? It is a
strange story. We will relate it.
We landed at the first sluice and immediately stood in a
kind of English garden ; the broad pathways are covered
with gravel and rise in low terraces between the green sun-
lit greensward. It is charming and delightfi'l here, but by
no means imposing; if one desires to be excited in this
manner, he must go a little higher up to the old sluices,
that have burst, deep and narrow, through the hard rock.
Nature is magnificent here, and the water roars and foams in
its deep bed far below. Up here one looks over valley and
river ; the bank of the river on the other side rises in green
undulating hills, with clusters of leafy trees and wooden
houses painted red ; rocks and pine forests hem in the land-
scape. Through the sluices steamboats and sailing vessels
are ascending ; the water itself is the attendant spirit that
must bear them up above the rock. And from the forest
it issues, buzzing, roaring, and blustering. The din of the
Trollhatta Falls mingles with the noise of the sawmills
and the smithies.
" In three hours we shall be through the sluices," said
the Captain, " and then you shall visit the Falls. We shall
meet again at the inn above."
t^o trollhAtta
We went along the path that led through the forest and
thickets ; a whole fiock of bare-headed boys surrounded us,
all wishing to be our guides ; each one outscreamed the
other, and each gave contradictory explanations of how
high was the water and how high it did not or could rise ;
and here was also a great difference of opinion among the
learned. Soon we came to a halt on a large heather-
covered rock, a dizzying eminence. Before us, but deep
below, the foaming, roaring water — the Hell Fall, and over
this, cascade after cascade, the rich, swelling, rushing
river, the outlet of the largest lake in Sweden. What a
sight, what a foaming above and below ! It is like the
waves of the sea, or like effervescing champagne, or like boil-
ing milk ; the water rushes around two rocky islands above so
that the spray rises like mist from a meadow, while below,
it is more compressed, and, hurrying away, returns in
circles ; then it rolls down in a long wave-like fall, the
Hell Fall. What a roaring storm in the deep — what a
spectacle ! Man is dumb. And so were also the scream-
ing little guides ; they were silent, and when they renewed
their explanations and stories, they did not get far before an
old gentleman, whom none of us had noticed, although he
was here among us, made himself heard above the noise
with his peculiarly shrill voice ; he spoke of the place and
its former days as if they had been of yesterday.
" Here on the rocky isles," said he, " here in olden
times the warriors, as they are called, decided their dis-
putes. The warrior, Starkodder, dwelt in this region, and
took a fancy to the pretty maid Ogn j but she fancied
trollhAtta 131
Hergrimer the more, and in consequence he was challenged
by Starkodder to a duel here by the Falls and met his
death ; but Ogn sprang towards them, and, seizing her
lover's bloody sword, thrust it into her heart. Starkodder
did not get her. So a hundred years passed and another
hundred ; the forest became heavy and thick, wolves and
bears prowled here summer and winter, and wicked robbers
hid their booty here and no one could find them ; yonder, by
the Fall before Top Island, on the Norwegian side, was their
cave ; now it has fallen in — the clifF there overhangs it ! "
" Yes, the Tailors' ClifF! " screamed all the boys. " It
fell in the year 1755 ! "
" Fell ! " cried the old man as if astonished that any one
could know of it but himself. " Everything will fall : the
tailor also fell. The robbers placed him upon the clifF and
told him that if he v.ould be liberated for his ransom he
must sew a suit of clothes there ; he tried to do it, but as
he drew out his thread at the first stitch, he became dizzy
and fell into the roaring water, and thus the rock got the
name of The Tailors' ClifF. One day the robbers
caught a young girl, and she betrayed them ; she kindled a
fire in the cavern, the smoke was seen, the cavern was dis-
covered, and the robbers imprisoned and executed ; that
outside there is called The Thieves' Fall, and below, un-
der the water, is another cave ; the river rushes in there
and issues out foaming ; you can see it well up here and
hear it too, but it can be heard better under the stony roof
of the mountain sprite."
And we went on and on along the waterfall towards Top
132 trollhAtta
Island, always on smooth paths covered with saw-dust
to Polhelm's-Sluice ; a cleft has been made in the rock for
the first intended sluice-work, which was not finished, but
on account of which has been shaped the most imposing of
all the Trollhatta Falls ; the hurrying water falls perpen-
dicularly into the dark depth. The side of the rock here is
connected with Top Island by means of a light iron bridge,
which seems to be thrown over the abyss ; we venture on
this swaying bridge above the rushing, whirling water, and
soon stand on the little rocky island between firs and pines
that dart out of the crevices ; before us rushes a sea of
waves, broken as they rebound against the rock on which we
stand, spraying us with their fine eternal mist ; on each side
the torrent flows as if shot from a gigantic cannon, waterfall
upon waterfall ; we look above them all and are lulled by
the harmonic tone that has existed fo*- thousands of years.
" No one can ever get to that island over there," said one of
our party, pointing to the large island above the highest fall.
" I know one who got there ! " exclaimed the old man,
and nodded with a peculiar smile.
"Yes, my grandfather got there ! " said one of the boys,
*' but for a hundred years scarcely any one else has reached
it. The cross that stands there was set up by my grand-
father. It had been a severe winter, the whole of Lake
Venern was frozen, the ice dammed up the outlet, and for
many hours the bottom was dry. Grandfather has told us
about it : he and two others went over, set up the cross,
and returned. Just then there was a thundering and crack-
ing noise just like cannon, the ice broke up and the stream
trollhAtta 133
overflowed meadows and forest. It is true, every word
I say ! "
One of the travellers cited Tegner :
" Vildt Gota stortade fran Fjallen,
Hemsk TroUet fran sat Toppfall rot !
Men Snillet kom och sprangt stod Hallen,
Med Skeppen i sitt skot ! "
" Poor mountain sprite," he added, " thy power and
glory are failing ! Man flies beyond thee — Thou must
learn of him ! "
The garrulous old man made a grimace, and muttered
something to himself — but we were now by the bridge be-
fore the inn, the steamboat glided through the open way,
every one hurried on board and immediately it shot above
the Fall just as if no Fall existed.
It was evening ; I stood on the heights of Trollhatta's
old sluices, and saw the ships with outspread sails glide
away over the meadows like large white spectres. The
sluice-gates opened with a heavy, crashing sound like that
related of the copper gates of the Vehmgericht ; the evening
was so still ; in the deep silence the tone of the Trollhatta
Fall was like a chorus of a hundred water-mills, ever one
and the same tone and sometimes the ringing of a deep and
mighty note that seemed to pass through the very earth —
and yet through all this the eternal silence of Nature was
felt ; — suddenly a great bird with heavily flapping wings
flew out of the trees in the deep woods towards the water-
fall. Was it the mountain sprite ? We must believe so.
Pictures oy Sweden (Leipzig^ 1851).
THE GRAND CANYON OF THE COLORADO
iVNITED STATES)
C. F. GORDON-CUMMING
PROBABLY the greatest chasm in the known worlc
is the grand canyon of the Colorado river (the Rio
Colorado Grande), which is a gorge upward of two hun-
dred miles in length, and of tremendous depth. Through-
out this distance its vertical crags measure from one to up-
wards of six thousand feet in depth ! Think of it ! The
highest mountain in Scotland measures 4,418 feet. The
height of Niagara is 145 feet. And here is a narrow, tor-
tuous pass where the river has eaten its way to a depth of
6,200 feet between vertical granite crags !
Throughout this canyon there is no cascade ; and though
the river descends 16,000 feet within a very short distance,
forming rushing rapids, it is nevertheless possible to de-
scend it by a raft — and this has actually been done, in defi-
ance of the most appalling dangers and hardships. It is
such a perilous adventure as to be deemed worthy of note
even in this country, where every prospector carries his life
in his hand, and to whom danger is the seasoning of daily
life, which, without it, would appear positively monotonous.
I suppose no river in the world passes through scenery
so extraordinary as does the Colorado river, in its journey
of 2,000 miles from its birthplace in the Rocky mountains,
THE GRAND CANYON OF THE COLORADO 1 35
till, traversing the burning plains of New Mexico, it ends
its course in the Gulf of California. Its early career is
uneventful. In its youth it bears a maiden name, and, as
the Green river, vi^ends it way joyously through the upper
forests. Then it reaches that ghastly country known as
the mauvaises terres of Utah and Arizona — a vast region —
extending also into Nevada and Wyoming, which, by the
ceaseless action of water, has been carried into an intricate
labyrinth of deep gloomy caverns.
For a distance of one thousand miles the river winds its
tortuous course through these stupendous granite gorges,
receiving the waters of many tributary streams, each rush-
ing along similar deeply hewn channels.
In all the range of fiction no adventures can be devised
more terrible than those which have actually befallen gold-
seekers and hunters who, from any cause, have strayed into
this dreary and awesome region. It was first discovered by
two bold explorers, by name Strobe and White, who, be-
ing attacked by Indians, took refuge in the canyons. Pre-
ferring to face unknown dangers to certain death at the
hands of the enemy, they managed to collect enough tim-
ber to construct a rude raft, and determined to attempt
the descent.
Once embarked on that awful journey, there was no re-
turning — they must endure to the bitter end.
On the fourth day the raft was upset. Strobe was
drowned, and the little store of provisions and ammunition
was lost. White contrived to right the raft, and for ten
days the tushing waters bore him down the frightful chasm,
136 THE GRAND CANYON OF THE COLORADO
seeing only the perpendicular cliffs on either side, and the
strip of sky far overheard — never knowing, from hour to
hour, but that at the next winding of the canyon the stream
might overleap some mighty precipice, and so end his long
anguish. During those awful ten days of famine, a few
leaves and seed-pods, clutched from the bushes on the
rocks, were his only food.
At length he reached a wretched settlement of half-
bred Mexicans, who, deeming his escape miraculous, fed
him ; and eventually he reached the homes of white men,
who looked on him (as well they might) as on one returned
from the grave. The life thus wonderfully saved, was,
however, sacrificed a few months later, when he fell into
the hands of his old Indian foes.
The story of White's adventure was confirmed by vari-
ous trappers and prospectors, who, from time to time, ven-
tured some little way into this mysterious rock-labyrinth ;
and it was determined to attempt a government survey of
the region. Accordingly, in 1869, a party, commanded by
Major J. W. Powell, started on this most interesting but
dangerous expedition. Warned by the fate of a party who
attempted to explore the country in 1855, ^'^^ who, with
the exception of two men (Ashley and another), all perished
miserably, the government party started with all possible
precautions.
Four light Chicago-built boats were provisioned for six
months, and, with infinite difficulty, were transported 1,500
miles across the desert. On reaching their starting-point,
they were lowered into the awful ravines, from which it
THE GRAND CANON OF THE COLORADO.
THE GRAND CANYON OF THE COLORADO 1 37
was, to say the least, problematic whether all would emerge
alive. The dangers, great enough in reality, had been
magnified by rumour. It was reported, with every sem-
blance of probability, that the river formed terrible whirl-
pools — that it flowed underground for hundreds of miles,
and emerged only to fall in mighty cataracts and appalling
rapids. Even the friendly Indians entreated the explorers
not to attempt so rash an enterprise, assuring them that
none who embarked on that stream would escape alive.
But in the face of all such counsel, the expedition started,
and for upwards of three months the party travelled, one
may almost say in the bowels of the earth — at least in her
deepest furrows — through canyons where the cliffs rise,
sheer from the water, to a height of three-quarters of
a mile !
They found, as was only natural, that imagination had
exaggerated the horrors of the situation, and that it was
possible to follow the rock-girt course of the Colorado
through all its wanderings — not without danger, of course.
In many places the boat had to be carried. One was
totally wrecked and its cargo lost, and the others came to
partial grief, entailing the loss of valuable instruments, and
almost more precious lives. Though no subterranean pas-
sage was discovered, nor any actual waterfall, there were,
nevertheless, such dangerous rapids as to necessitate fre-
quent troublesome portage; and altogether, the expedition
had its full share of adventure.
The ground was found to vary considerably. In some
places the rock is so vivid in colour — red and orange — that
138 THE GRAND CANYON OF THE COLORADO
the canyons were distinguished as the Red Canyon and the
Flaming Gorge. Some are mere fissures of tremendous
depth ; while in other places, where the water has carved
its way more freely, they are broad, here and there expand-
ing into a fertile oasis, where green turf and lovely groves
are enclosed by stupendous crags — miniature Yosemites —
which to these travellers appeared to be indeed visions of
Paradise.
Granite Crags (Edinburgh and London, 1884).
THE ROCK OF GIBRALTAR
(.SPAIN)
AUGUSTUS J, C. HARE
IT was a lovely day, and a calm sea, which was a great
subject of rejoicing, for even as it was the rickety
Spanish vessel rolled disagreeably. Owing to the miser-
able slowness of everything, we were eleven hours on
board. There was little interest till we reached the yellow
headland of Trafalgar. Then the rugged outlines of the
African coast rose before us, and we entered the straits, be-
tween Tarifa sleeping amid its orange groves on the Span-
ish coast, and the fine African peak above Ceuta. Soon,
on the left, the great rock of Gibraltar rose from the sea
like an island, though not the most precipitous side, which
turns inwards towards the Mediterranean. But it was al-
ready gun-fire, and too late to join another steamer and
land at the town, so we waited for a shoal of small boats
which put out from Algeciras, and surrounded our steamer
to carry us on shore.
Here we found in the Fonda Inglesa (kept by an Eng-
lish landlady), one of the most primitive but charming
little hotels we ever entered. The view from our rooms
alone decided us to stay there some days. Hence, framed
by the balcony, Gibraltar rose before us in all the glory of
its rugged sharp-edged cliffs, grey in the morning, pink in
140 THE ROCK OF GIBRALTAR
the evening light, with the town at its foot, whence, at
night, thousands of h'ghts were reflected on the still water.
In the foreground were groups of fishing-boats at anchor,
and, here and there, a lateen sail flitted, like a white
albatross, across the bay. On the little pier beneath us
was endless life and movement, knots of fishermen, in
their blue shirts and scarlet caps and sashes, mingling with
solemn-looking Moors in turbans, yellow slippers, and
flowing burnouses, who were watching the arrival or em-
barcation of their wares ; and an endless variety of trav-
ellers from all parts of Europe, waiting for different
steamers, or come over to see the place. Here an invalid
might stay, imbibing health from the fine air and sunshine,
and never be weary of the ever changing diorama. In
every direction delightful walks wind along the cliffs
through groves of aloes and prickly-pear, or descend into
little sandy coves full of beautiful shells. Behind the
town, a fine old aqueduct strides across the valley, and be-
yond it the wild moors begin at once sweeping backwards
to a rugged chain of mountains. Into the gorges of these
mountains we rode one day, and most delightful they are,
clothed in parts with magnificent old cork-trees, while
in the depths of a ravine, overhung with oleander and
rhododendron, is a beautiful waterfall.
It was with- real regret that we left Algeciras and made
the short voyage across the bay to Gibraltar, where we in-
stantly found ourselves in a place as unlike Spain as it is
possible to imagine. Upon the wharf you are assailed by
a clamour of English-speaking porters and boatmen.
THE ROCK OF GIBRALTAR I4I
Passing the gates, you come upon a barrack-yard swarming
with tall British soldiers, looking wonderfully bright and
handsome, after the insignificant figures and soiled, shabby
uniforms of the Spanish army. Hence the Waterport
Street opens, the principal thoroughfare of the town,
though from its insignificant shops, with English names,
and its low public-houses, you have to look up at the strip
of bright blue sky above, to be reminded that you are not
in an English seaport.
Just outside the principal town, between it and the
suburb of Europe, is the truly beautiful Alameda, an im-
mense artificial garden, where endless gravel paths wind
through labyrinths of geraniums and coronella and banks
of flame-coloured ixia, which are all in their full blaze of
beauty under the March sun, though the heat causes them
to wither and droop before May. During our stay at
Gibraltar, it has never ceased to surprise us that this
Alameda, the shadiest and pleasantest place open to the
public upon the Rock, should be almost deserted ; but so
it is. Even when the band playing affords an additional
attraction, there are not a dozen persons to listen to it ;
whereas at Rome on such occasions, the Pincio, exceed-
ingly inferior as a public garden, would be crowded to
suffocation, and always presents a lively and animated
scene.
One succession of gardens occupies the western base of
the Rock, and most luxuriant and gigantic are the flowers
that bloom in them. Castor-oil plants, daturas, and
daphnes, here attain the dignity of timber, while geraniums
142 THE ROCK OF GIBRALTAR
and heliotropes many years old, so large as to destoy all
the sense of floral proportions which has hitherto existed
in your mind. It is a curious characteristic, and typical of
Gibraltar, that the mouth of a cannon is frequently found
protruding from a thicket of flowers.
The eastern side of the Rock, in great part a per-
pendicular precipice, is elsewhere left uncultivated, and
is wild and striking in the highest degree. Here, beyond
the quaint Jewish cemetery of closely set gravestones, bear-
ing Hebrew inscriptions on the open hillside, a rugged path
winds through rocks and tangled masses of flowers and
palmists, to a curious stalactitic cavern called Martin's Cave.
On this side of the clifF a remnant of the famous " apes
of Tarshish " is suffered to remain wild and unmolested,
though their numbers, always very small, have lately been
reduced by the very ignorant folly of a young officer,
who shot one and wounded nine others, for which he has
been very properly impounded.
On the northern side of the Rock are the famous
galleries tunnelled in the face of the precipice, with cannon
pointing towards Spain from their embrasures. Through
these, or, better, by delightful paths, fringed with palmettos
and asphodel, you may reach El Hacho, the signal station,
whence the view is truly magnificent over the sea, and the
mountain chains of two continents, and down into the blue
abysses beneath the tremendous precipice upon which it is
placed.
The greatest drawback to the charms of Gibraltar has
seemed to be the difficulty of leaving it. It is a beautiful
THE ROCK OF GIBRALTAR 1 43
prison. We came fully intending to ride over the moun-
tain passes by Ronda, but on arriving vi^e heard that the
whole of that district was in the hands of the brigands
under the famous chief Don Diego, and the Governor posi-
tively refused to permit us to go that way. Our
lamentations at this have since been cut short by the news
of a double murder at the hands of the brigands on the
way we wished to have taken, and at the very time we
should have taken it. So we must go to Malaga by sea,
and wait for the happy combination of a good steamer and
calm weather falling on the same day.
Late in the afternoon of the 15th of March we em-
barked on board the Lisbon in the dockyard of Gibraltar.
It had been a lovely day, and the grand Rock had looked
its best, its every cleft filled with flowers and foliage. The
sun set before we had rounded Europe Point, and the pre-
cipitous cliffs of the eastern bay rose utterly black against
the yellow sky.
Wanderings in Spain (London, 1873).
THINGVALLA
(.ICELAND}
LORD DUFFERIN
AT last I have seen the famous Geysers, of which
every one has heard so much ; but I have also
seen Thingvalla, of which no one has heard anything.
The Geysers are certainly wonderful marvels of nature, but
more wonderful, more marvellous is Thingvalla; and if the
one repay you for crossing the Spanish Sea, it would be
worth while to go round the world to reach the other.
Of the boiling fountains I think I can give you a good
idea, but whether I can contrive to draw for you anything
like a comprehensible picture of the shape and nature of
the Almanna Gja, the Hrafna Gja, and the lava vale, called
Thingvalla, that lies between them, I am doubtful. Before
coming to Iceland I had read every account that had been
written of Thingvalla by any former traveller, and when I
saw it, it appeared to me a place of which I had never
heard ; so I suppose I shall come to grief in as mel-
ancholy a manner as my predecessors, whose ineffectual
pages whiten the entrance to the valley they have failed to
describe.
After an hour's gradual ascent through a picturesque
ravine, we emerged upon an immense desolate plateau of
lava, that stretched away for miles and miles like a great
THING VALLA 145
stony sea. A more barren desert you cannot conceive.
Innumerable boulders, relics of the glacial period, encum-
bered the track. We could only go at a foot-pace. Not
a blade of grass, not a strip of green, enlivened the pros-
pect, and the only sound we heard was the croak of the
curlew and the wail of the plover. Hour after hour we
plodded on, but the grey waste seemed interminable,
boundless : and the only consolation Sigurdr would vouch-
safe was that our journey's end lay on this side of some
purple mountains that peeped like the tents of a demon
leaguer above the stony horizon.
As it was already eight o'clock, and we had been told the
entire distance from Reykjavik to Thing valla was only five-
and-thirty miles, I could not comprehend how so great a
space should still separate us from our destination. Con-
cluding more time had been lost in shooting, lunching, etc.,
by the way than we supposed, I put my pony into a canter,
and determined to make short work of the dozen miles
which seemed still to lie between us and the hills, on this
side of which I understood from Sigurdr our encampment
for the night was to be pitched.
Judge then of my astonishment when, a few minutes
afterwards, I was arrested in full career by a tremendous
precipice, or rather chasm, which suddenly gaped beneath
my feet, and completely separated the barren plateau we
had been so painfully traversing from a lovely, gay, sunlit
flat, ten miles broad, that lay, — sunk at a level lower by a
hundred feet, — between us and the opposite mountains. I
was never so completely taken by surprise ; Sigurdr's
146 THING VALLA
purposely vague description of our halting-place was ac-
counted for.
We had reached the famous Almanna Gja. Like a black
rampart in the distance, the corresponding chasm of the
Hrafna Gja cut across the lower sloop of the distant hills,
and between them now slept in sunshine and beauty the
broad verdant plain ' of Thingvalla.
Ages ago, — who shall say how long, — some vast com-
motion shook the foundations of the island, and bubbling
up from sources far away amid the inland hills, a fiery del-
uge must have rushed down between their ridges, until,
escaping from the narrow gorges, it found space to spread
itself into one broad sheet of molten stone over an entire
district of country, reducing its varied surface to one vast
blackened level.
One of two things then occurred : either the vitri-
fied mass contracting as it cooled, — the centre area of fifty
square miles burst asunder at either side from the adjoining
plateau, and sinking down to its present level, left the two
paralleled Gjas,or chasms, which form its lateral boundaries,
to mark the limits of the disruption ; or else, while the
pith or marrow of the lava was still in a fluid state, its
upper surface became solid, and formed a roof beneath
which the molten stream flowed on to lower levels, leaving
a vast cavern into which the upper crust subsequently
plumped down.
But to return where I left myself, on the edge of the
> The plain of Thingvalla is in a great measure clothed with birch
brushwood.
THING VALLA 1 47
clifF, gazing down with astonished eyes over a panorama
of land and water imbedded at my feet. I could scarcely
speak for pleasure and surprise ; Fitz was equally taken
aback, and as for Wilson, he looked as if he thought we
had arrived at the end of the world. After having allowed
us sufficient time to admire the prospect, Sigurdr turned to
the left, along the edge of the precipice, until we reached a
narrow pathway accidentally formed down a longitudinal
niche in the splintered face of the cliff, which led across
the bottom, and up the opposite side of the Gja, into the
plain of Thingvalla.
Independently of its natural curiosities, Thingvalla was
most interesting to me on account of the historical asso-
ciations connected with it. Here, long ago, at a period
when feudal despotism was the only government known
throughout Europe, free parliaments used to sit in peace, and
regulate the affairs of the young Republic ; and to this hour
the precincts of its Commons House of Parliament are as
distinct and unchanged as on the day when the high-hearted
fathers of the emigration first consecrated them to the serv-
ice of a free nation. By a freak of nature, as the subsid-
ing plain cracked and shivered into twenty thousand fissures,
an irregular oval area, of about two hundred feet by fifty,
was left almost entirely surrounded by a crevice so deep
and broad as to be utterly impassable ; — at one extremity
alone a scanty causeway connected it with the adjoining
level, and allowed of access to its interior. It is true, just
at one point the encircling chasm grows so narrow as to be
within the possibility of a jump j and an ancient worthy,
148 THING VALLA
named Flosi, pursued by his enemies, did actually take it at a
fly : but as leaping an inch short would have entailed certain
drowning in the bright green waters that sleep forty feet be-
low, you can conceive there was never much danger of this
entrance becoming a thoroughfare. I confess that for one
moment, while contemplating the scene of Flosi's exploit,
I felt, like a true Briton, — an idiotic desire to be able to say
that I had done the same ; — that I survive to write this letter
is a proof of my having come subsequently to my senses.
This spot, then, erected by nature almost into a fortress,
the founders of the Icelandic constitution chose for the
meetings of their Thing, or Parliament ; armed guards de-
fended the entrance, while the grave bonders deliberated in
security within : to this day, at the upper end of the place
of meeting, may be seen the three hummocks, where sat in
state the chiefs and judges of the land.
But those grand old times have long since passed away.
Along the banks of the Oxeraa no longer glisten the tents
and booths of the assembled lieges ; no longer stalwart
berserks guard the narrow entrance to the Althing ; ravens
alone sit on the sacred Logberg ; and the floor of the old
Icelandic House of Commons is ignominiously cropped by
the sheep of the parson. For three hundred years did the
gallant little Republic maintain its independence — three
hundred years of unequalled literary and political vigour.
At last its day of doom drew near. Like the Scotch nobles
in the time of Elizabeth, their own chieftains intrigued
against the liberties of the Icelandic people; and in 1261
the island became an appendage of the Norwegian crown.
THINGVALLA 149
Yet even then the deed embodying the concession of their
independence was drawn up in such haughty terms as to
resemble rather the offer of an equal alliance than the re-
nunciation of imperial rights.
As I gazed around on the silent, deserted plain, and
paced to and fro along the untrodden grass that now clothed
the Althing, I could scarcely believe it had ever been the
battle-field where such keen and energetic wits encoun-
tered, — that the fire-scathed rocks I saw before me were
the very same that had once inspired one of the most suc-
cessful rhetorical appeals ever hazarded in a public assem-
bly.
From the Althing we strolled over to the Almanna Gja,
visiting the Pool of Execution on our way. As I have
already mentioned, a river from the plateau above leaps
over the precipice into the bottom of the Gja, and flows
for a certain distance between its walls. At the foot of
the fall, the waters linger for a moment, in a dark, deep,
brimming pool, hemmed in by a circle of ruined rocks ; to
this pool, in ancient times, all women convicted of capital
crimes were immediately taken, and drowned. Witchcraft
seems to have been the principal weakness of ladies in
those days, throughout the Scandinavian countries. For a
long period, no disgrace was attached to its profession.
Odin himself, we are expressly told, was a great adept, and
always found himself very much exhausted at the end of
his performance; which leads me to think that, perhaps, he
dabbled in electro-biology.
Turning ^ide from what, I dare say, was the scene of
150 THINGVALLA
many an unrecorded tragedy, we descended the gorge of the
Almanna Gja, towards the lake ; and I took advantage of the
opportunity again to examine its marvellous construction.
The perpendicular walls of rock rose on either hand from
the flat greensward that carpeted its bottom, pretty much
as the waters of the Red Sea must have risen on each side
of the fugitive Israelites. A blaze of light smote the face
of one clifF, while the other lay in the deepest shadow ;
and on the rugged surface of each might still be traced cor-
responding articulations, that once had dovetailed into each
other, ere the igneous mass was rent asunder. So un-
changed, so recent seemed the vestiges of this convulsion,
that I felt as if I had been admitted to witness one of
nature's grandest and most violent operations, almost in the
very act of its execution. A walk of about twenty min-
utes brought us to the borders of the lake — a glorious ex-
panse of water, fifteen miles long, by eight miles broad,
occupying a basin formed by the same hills, which must
also, I imagine, have arrested the further progress of the
lava torrent. A lovelier scene I have seldom witnessed.
In the foreground lay huge masses of rock and lava,
tossed about like the ruins of a world, and washed by
waters as bright and green as polished malachite. Beyond,
a bevy of distant mountains, robed by the transparent atmos-
phere in tints unknown to Europe, peeped over each other's
shoulders into the silver mirror at their feet, while here and
there from among their purple ridges columns of white
vapour rose like altar smoke towards the tranquil heaven.
The next morning we started for the Geysers ; this time
THING VALLA I51
dividing the baggage-train, and sending on the cook in light
marching order, with the materials for dinner. The
weather still remained unclouded, and each mile we ad-
vanced disclosed some new wonder in the unearthly land-
scape. A three hours' ride brought us to the Rabna Gja,
the eastern boundary of Thingvalla, and, winding up its
rugged face, we took our last look over the lovely plain
beneath us, and then manfully set across the same kind of
arid lava plateau as that which we had already traversed
before arriving at the Almanna Gja.
Letters from High Latitude^ being some account of a voyage
in the schooner yacht Foam in 18 j6 (London, 1859).
LAND'S END AND LOGAN ROCK
i ENGLAND)
JOHN AYRTON PARIS
" The sunbeams tremble, and the purple light
Illumes the dark Bolerium ; — seat of storms,
High are his granite rocks ; his frowning brow
Hangs o'er the smiling ocean. In his caves,
Where sleep the haggard spirits of the storm.
Wild dreary are the schistose rocks around.
Encircled by the waves, where to the breeze
The haggard cormorant shrieks ; and far beyond
Are seen the cloud-like islands, grey in mists."
Sir H. Davy.
IN an excursion to the Land's End the traveller will meet
with several intermediate objects well worthy his at-
tention, more worthy, perhaps, than the celebrated promon-
tory itself, as being monuments of the highest antiquity in
the kingdom. They consist of Druidical circles, cairns,
or circular heaps of stones, cromlechs, crosses, military
entrenchments, and the obsure remains of castles.
Having arrived at the celebrated promontory, we descend
a rapid slope, which brings us to a bold group of rocks,
composing the western extremity of our island. Some
years ago a military officer who visited this spot, was rash
enough to descend on horseback j the horse soon became
unruly, plunged, reared, and, fearful to relate, fell back-
wards over the precipice, and rolling from rock to rock was
LAND'S END AND LOGAN ROCK 153
dashed to atoms before it reached the sea. The rider was
for some time unable to disengage himself, but at length by
a desperate effort he threw himself off, and was happily
caught by some fragments of rock, at the very brink of
the precipice, where he remained in a state of insensibility
until assistance could be afforded him ! The awful spot is
marked by the figure of a horseshoe, traced on the turf
with a deep incision, which is cleared out from time to
time, in order to preserve it as a monument of rashness
which could alone be equalled by the good fortune with
which it was attended.
Why any promontory in an island should be exclusively
denominated the Land's End, it is difHcult to understand j
yet so powerful is the charm of a name, that many persons
have visited it on no other account ; the intelligent tourist,
however, will receive a much more substantial gratification
from his visit ; the great geological interest of the spot will
afford him an ample source of entertainment and instruc-
tion, while the magnificence of its convulsed scenery, the
ceaseless roar, and deep intonation of the ocean, and the
wild shrieks of the cormorant, all combine to awaken the
blended sensations of awe and admiration.
The cliff which bounds this extremity is rather abrupt
than elevated, not being more than sixty feet above the
level of the sea. It is composed entirely of granite, the
forms of which present a very extraordinary appearance,
assuming in some places the resemblance of shafts that had
been regularly cut with the chisel ; in others, regular equi-
distant fissures divide the rock into horizontal masses, and
154 LAND'S END AND LOGAN ROCK
give it the character of basaltic columns ; in other places,
again, the impetuous waves of the ocean have opened, for
their retreat, gigantic arches, through which the angry bil-
lows roll and bellow with tremendous fury.
Several of these rocks from their grotesque forms have
acquired whimsical appellations, as that of the Armed Knight^
the Irish Lady^ etc. An inclining rock on the side of a
craggy headland, south of the Land's End, has obtained the
name of Dr. "JohnsorCs Head^ and visitors after having heard
the appellation seldom fail to acknowledge that it bears
some resemblance to the physiognomy of that extraordi-
nary man.
On the north, this rocky scene is terminated by a prom-
ontory 229 feet above the level of the sea, called Cape Corn-
wall^ between which and the Land's End, the coast retires,
and forms IVhitesand Bay; a name which it derives from the
peculiar whiteness of the sand, and amongst which the
naturalist will find several rare microscopic shells. There
are, besides, some historical recollections which invest this
spot with interest. It was in this bay that Stephen landed
on his first arrival in England ; as did King John, on his
return from Ireland; and Perkin Warbeck, in the prosecu-
tion of those claims to the Crown to which some late writers
have been disposed to consider that he was entitled, as the
real son of Edward the Fourth. In the rocks near the
southern termination of IVhitesand Bay may be seen the
junction of the granite and slate; large veins of the
former may also be observed to traverse the latter in all
directions.
LAND'S END AND LOGAN ROCK 155
We now return to the Land's End, — from which we
should proceed to visit a promontory called " Castle
Treryn," where is situated the celebrated " Logan Stone."
If we pursue our route along the cliffs, it will be found to
be several miles southeast of the Land's End, although by
taking the direct and usual road across the country, it is not
more than two miles distant ; but the geologist must walk,
or ride along the coast on horseback, and we can assure
him that he will be amply recompensed for his trouble.
From the Cape on which the signal station is situated,
the rock scenery is particularly magnificent, exhibiting an
admirable specimen of the manner, and forms, into which
granite disintegrates. About forty yards from this Cape is
the promontory called Tol-Pedn-Penwith, which in the
Cornish language signifies the holed headland in Penwith.
The name is derived from a singular chasm, known by the
appellation of the Funnel Rock ; it is a vast perpendicular
excavation in the granite, resembling in figure an inverted
cone, and has been evidently produced by the gradual de-
composition of one of those vertical veins with which this
part of the coast is so frequently intersected. By a circui-
tous route you may descend to the bottom of the cavern,
into which the sea flows at high water. Here the Cornish
chough [Corvus Graculus) has built its nest for several years,
a bird which is very common about the rocky parts of this
coast, and may be distinguished by its red legs and bill, and
the violaceous blackness of its feathers. This promontory
forms the western extremity of the Mount's Bay. The
antiquary will discover in this spot, the vestiges of one of
156 LAND'S END AND LOGAN ROCK
the ancient " Cliff Castles," which were little else than
stone walls, stretching across necks of land from cliff to
cliff. The only geological phenomenon worthy of particu-
lar notice is a large and beautiful contemporaneous vein of
red granite containing schorl ; is one foot in width, and may
be seen for about forty feet in length.
Continuing our route around the coast we at length ar-
rive at Castle Treryn. Its name is derived from the sup-
position of its having been the site of an ancient British
fortress, of which there are still some obscure traces,
although the wild and rugged appearance of the rocks in-
dicate nothing like art.
The foundation of the whole is a stupendous group of
granite rocks, which rise in pyramidal clusters to a pro-
digious altitude, and overhang the sea. On one of those
pyramids is situated the celebrated " Logan Stone," which
is an immense block of granite weighing about sixty tons.
The surface in contact with the under rock is of very
small extent, and the whole mass is so nicely balanced,
that, notwithstanding its magnitude, the strength of a single
man applied to its under edge is sufficient to change its
centre of gravity, and though at first in a degree scarcely
perceptible, yet the repetition of such impulses, at each re-
turn of the stone, produces at length a very sensible
oscillation ! As soon as the astonishment which this
phenomenon excites has in some measure subsided, the
stranger anxiously inquires how, and whence the stone
originated — was it elevated by human means, or was it
produced by the agency of natural causes ? Those who
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LAND'S END AND LOGAN ROCK I57
are in the habit of viewing mountain masses with geolog-
ical eyes, will readily discover that the only chisel ever em-
ployed has been the tooth of time — the only artist engaged,
the elements. Granite usually disintegrates into rhomboidal
and tabular masses, which by the farther operation of air
and moisture gradually lose their solid angles, and approach
the spheroidal form. De Luc observed, in the giant moun-
tains of Silesia, spheroids of this description so piled upon
each other as to resemble Dutch cheeses j and appearances,
no less illustrative of the phenomenon, may be seen from
the signal station to which we have just alluded. The fact
of the upper part of the clifF being more exposed to at-
mospheric agency, than the parts beneath, will sufficiently
explain why these rounded masses so frequently rest on
blocks which still preserve the tabular form; and since
such spheroidal blocks must obviously rest in that position
in which their lesser axes are perpendicular to the horizon,
it is equally evident that whenever an adequate force is ap-
plied they must vibrate on their point of support.
Although we are thus led to deny the Druidical origin of
this stone, for which so many zealous antiquaries have con-
tended, still we by no means intend to deny that the Druids
employed it as an engine of superstition ; it is indeed very
probable that, having observed so uncommon a property,
they dexterously contrived to make it answer the purposes
of an ordeal, and by regarding it as the touchstone of truth,
acquitted or condemned the accused by its motions. Mason
poetically alludes to this supposed property in the following
lines :
158 LAND'S END AND LOGAN ROCK
" Behold yon huge
And unknown sphere of living adamant,
Which, pois'd by magic, rests its central weight
On yonder pointed rock : firm as it seems,
Such is its strange, and virtuous property,
It moves obsequious to the gentlest touch
Of him whose heart is pure, but to a traitor,
Tho' e'en a giant's prowess nerv'd his arm,
It stands as fix'd as — Snowdon."
The rocks are covered with a species of Byssus long and
rough to the touch, forming a kind of hoary beard ; in
many places they are deeply furrowed, carrying with them
a singular air of antiquity, which combines with the whole
of the romantic scenery to awaken in the minds of the
poet and enthusiast the recollection of the Druidical ages.
The botanist will observe the common Thrift {Statice
Armer'ta) imparting a glowing tinge to the scanty vegeta-
tion of the spot, and, by growing within the crevices of
the rocks, affording a very picturesque contrast to their
massive fabric. Here, too, the Daucus Maritimus^ or wild
carrot •, Sedum Telephium^ Saxifrage Stellaris^ and Asplenium
Mar'tnum^ may be found in abundance.
The granite in this spot is extremely beautiful on ac-
count of its porphyritic appearance ; the crystals of feldspar
are numerous and distinct ; in some places the rock is
traversed by veins of red feldspar, and of black tourmaline,
or schorl, of which the crystalline forms of the prisms, on
account of their close aggregation, are very indistinct.
Here may also be observed a contemporaneous vein of
schorl rock in the granite, nearly two feet wide, highly in-
clined and very short, and not having any distinct walls.
LANDS END AND LOGAN ROCK I59
On the western side of the Logan Rock is a cavern,
formed by the decomposition of a vein of granite, the
feldspar of which assumes a brilliant flesh-red and lilac
colour; and, where it is polished by the sea, exceeding
even in beauty the Serpentine caverns at the Lizard.
J Guide to the Mount's Bay and the Land's End (London,
2d £d., 1824).
MOUNT HEKLA>
i ICELAND^
SIR RICHARD F. BURTON
THE Hekla of our ingenuous childhood, when we be-
lieved in the "Seven Wonders of the World," was
a mighty cone, a " pillar of heaven," upon whose dreadful
summit white, black, and sanguine red lay in streaks and
patches, with volumes of sooty smoke and lurid flames,
and a pitchy sky. The whole was somewhat like the im-
possible illustrations of Vesuvian eruptions, in body-colours,
plus the ice proper to Iceland. The Hekla of reality. No. 5
in the island scale, is a commonplace heap, half the height
of Hermon, and a mere pigmy compared with the Andine
peaks, rising detached from the plains, about three and a
half miles in circumference, backed by the snows of
Tindafjall and Torfajokull, and supporting a sky-line that
varies greatly with the angle under which it is seen.
Travellers usually make it a three-horned Parnassus, with
the central knob highest — which is not really the case.
From the south-west, it shows now four, then five, distinct
' Heklu-fjall derives from Hekla (akin to HSkull, a priest's cope), mean-
ing a cowled or hooded frock, knitted of various colours, and applied to
the " Vesuvius of the North " from its cap and body vest of snow.
Icelanders usually translate it a chasuble, because its rounded black
shoulders bear stripes of white, supposed to resemble the cross carried to
Calvary.
MOUNT HEKLA l6l
points; the north-western lip of the northern crater, which
hides the true apex ; the south-western lip of the same ; the
north-eastern lip of the southern crater, which appears the
culminating point, and the two eastern edges of the south-
ern bowls. A pair of white patches represents the " eternal
snows." On the right of the picture is the steep, but
utterly unimportant Thrihyrningr, crowned with its bench-
mark; to the left, the Skardsfjall, variegated green and
black ; and in the centre, the Bjolfell, a western buttress of
the main building, which becomes alternately a saddleback,
a dorsum, and an elephant's head, trunk, and shoulders.
We came upon the valley of the Western Ranga ^ at a
rough point, a gash in the hard yellow turf-clad clay, dotted
with rough lava blocks, and with masses of conglomerate,
hollowed, turned, and polished by water: the shape was a
succession of S, and the left side was the more tormented.
Above the ford a dwarf cascade had been formed by the
lava of '45, which caused the waters to boil, and below the
ford jumped a second, where the stream forks. We then
entered an Iceland " forest," at least four feet high ; the
*' chapparal " was composed of red willow {Salix purpurea),
of Gra-vidir, woolly-leaved willow {Sulix lapponurn), the
*' tree under which the devil flayed the goats " — a
diabolical difficulty, when the bush is a foot high — and the
awful and venerable birch, *' la demoiselle des forets" which
has so often " blushed with patrician blood." About mid-
• Ringi ( " wrong," or crooked stream) is a name that frequently oc-
curs, and generally denotes either that the trend is opposed to the general
water-shed, or that an angle has been formed in the bed by earthquakes
or eruptions.
1 62 MOUNT HEKLA
afternoon we reached Naefrholt (birch-bark hill), the
*' fashionable " place for the ascent, and we at once in-
quired for the guide. Upon the carpe diem principle, he
had gone to Reykjavik with the view of drinking his late
gains ; but we had time to organize another, and even
alpenstocks with rings and spikes are to be found at the
farm-house. Everything was painfully tourist.
In the evening we scaled the stiff slope of earth and
Palagonite which lies behind, or east of Naefrholt ; this
crupper of Bjolfell, the Elephant Mountain, gives perhaps
harder work than any part of Hekla on the normal line of
ascent. From the summit we looked down upon a dwarf
basin, with a lakelet of fresh water, which had a slightly
(carbonic) acid taste, and which must have contained lime,
as we found two kinds of shells, both uncommonly thin
and fragile. Three species of weeds floated oflF the clean
sandstrips. Walking northward to a deserted byre, we
found the drain gushing under ground from sand and rock,
forming a distinct river-valley, and eventually feeding the
Western Ranga. This " Vatn " is not in the map ; though
far from certain that it is not mentioned by Mackenzie, we
named it the " Unknown Lake." Before night fell we re-
ceived a message that three English girls and their party
proposed to join us. This was a " scare," but happily the
Miss Hopes proved plucky as they were young and pretty,
and we rejoiced in offering this pleasant affront of the
feminine foot to that grim old solitaire^ Father Hekla.
Before the sleep necessary to prepare for the next day's
work, I will offer a few words concerning the " Etna of
MOUNT HEKLA 163
the North," sparing the reader, however, the mortification
of a regular history. It was apparently harmless, possibly
dormant, till A. D. 1104, when Saemund, the " Paris clerk,"
then forty-eight years old, threw in a casket, and awoke
the sleeping lion. Since that time fourteen regular erup-
tions, without including partial outbreaks are recorded,
giving an average of about two per century. The last was
in 1845. ^^^ ^'J" ^t Reykjavik was flavoured, it is said,
like a gun that wants washing j and the sounds of a distant
battle were conducted by the lava and basaltic ground.
The ashes extended to Scotland. When some writers tell
us that on this occasion Hekla lost 500 feet in height, " so
much of the summit having been blown away by the ex-
plosions," they forget or ignore the fact that the new crater
opened laterally and low down.
Like Etna, Vesuvius, and especially Stromboli, Hekla
became mythical in Middle-Age Europe, and gained wide
repute as one of the gates of " Hel-viti." Witches' Sab-
baths were held there. The spirits of the wicked, driven
by those, grotesque demons of Father Pinamonti which
would make the fortune of a zoological society, were seen
trooping into the infernal crater; and such facts as these do
not readily slip off the mind of man. The Danes still say
" Begone to Heckenfjaeld ! " the North Germans, " Go to
Hackelberg ! " and the Scotch consign you to " John
Hacklebirnie's house." Even Goldsmith (Animated
Nature, i. 48) had heard of the local creed, " The inhabi-
tants of Iceland believe the bellowings of Hekla are noth-
ing else but the cries of the damned, and that its eruptions
164 MOUNT HEKLA
are contrived to increase their tortures." Uno Van Troil
(Letter I.) who in 1770. together with those " inclyti Brit-
tannici," Baron Bank and Dr. Solander, ''gained the pleas-
ure of being the first who ever reached the summit of this
celebrated volcano," attributes the mountain's virginity to
the superstitions of the people. He writes soberly about its
marvels; and he explains its high fame by its position,
skirting the watery way to and from Greenland and
North America. His companions show less modesty of
imagination. We may concede that an unknown ascent
"required great circumspection " ; and that in a high wind
ascensionists were obliged to lie down. But how explain
the " dread of being blown into the most dreadful preci-
pices," when the latter do not exist ? Moreover, we learn
that to " accomplish this undertaking " they had to travel
from 300 to 360 miles over uninterrupted bursts of lava,
which is more than the maximum length of the island, from
northeast to southwest. As will be seen, modern travellers
have followed suit passing well.
The next morning (July 13) broke fair and calm, re-
minding me
" Del bel paese la dove il si suona"
The Miss Hopes were punctual to a minute — an excel-
lent thing in travelling womanhood. We rode up half-way
somewhat surprised to find so few parasitic craters ; the
only signs of independent eruption on the western flank
were the Raudkolar (red hills), as the people call their lava
hornitos and spiracles, which arc little bigger than the
bottle-house cones of Leith.
MOUNT HEKLA 165
At an impassable divide we left our poor nags to pass the
dreary time, without water or forage, and we followed the
improvised guide, who caused not a little amusement. His
general port was that of a bear that has lost its ragged stafF. —
I took away his alpenstock for one of the girls — and he
was plantigrade rather than cremnobatic ; he had stripped
to his underalls, which were very short, whilst his stockings
were very long and the heraldic gloves converted his hands
to paws. The two little snow fonds (" steep glassy slopes
of hard snow "), were the easiest of walking. We had
nerved ourselves to " Break neck or limbs, be maimed or
boiled alive," but we looked in vain for the " concealed
abysses," for the " crevasses to be crossed," and for places
where a " slip would be to roll to destruction." We did
not sight the " lava wall," a capital protection against giddi-
ness. The snow was anything but slippery ; the surface
was scattered with dust, and it bristled with a forest of
dwarf earth-pillars, where blown volcanic sand preserved
the ice. After a slow hour and a half, we reached the cra-
ter of '45, which opened at 9 a. m. on September 2, and
discharged lava till the end of November. It might be
passed unobserved by the inexperienced man. The only
remnant is the upper lip prolonged to the right ; the dimen-
sions may have been 120 by 150 yards, and the cleft shows
a projecting ice-ledge ready to fall. The feature is well-
marked by the new lava-field of which it is the source : the
bristly " stone-river " is already degrading to superficial
dust A little beyond this bowl the ground smokes, dis-
charging snow-steam made visible by the cold air. Hence
1 66 MOUNT HEKLA
doubtless those sententious travellers " experienced at one
and the same time, a high degree of heat and cold."
Fifteen minutes more led us to the First or Southern
Crater, whose Ol-bogi (elbow or rim) is one of the horns
conspicuous from below. It is a regular formation about
lOO yards at the bottom each way, with the right (east) side
red and cindery, and the left yellow and sulphury ; mosses
and a few flowerets grow on the lips ; in the sole rise jets
of steam and a rock-rib bisects it diagonally from northeast
to southwest. We thought it the highest point of the vol-
cano, but the aneriod corrected our mistake.
From the First Crater we walked over the left or western
dorsum, over which one could drive a coach, and we con-
gratulated one another upon the exploit. Former travellers
*' balancing themselves like rope-dancers, succeeded in pass-
ing along the ridge of slags which was so narrow that there
was scarcely room for their feet," the breadth being " not
more than two feet, having a precipice on each side several
hundred feet in depth." Charity suggests that the feature
has altered, but there was no eruption between 1766 and
1845 ; moreover, the lip would have diminished, not in-
creased. And one of the most modern visitors repeats the
" very narrow ridge," with the classical but incorrect ad-
juncts of"Scylla here, Charybdis there." Scylla (say the
crater slope) is disposed at an angle of 30°, and Mr. Chap-
man coolly walked down this " vast " little hollow. I
descended Charybdis (the outer counterscarp) far enough to
make sure that it is equally easy.
Passing the " carriage road " (our own name), we crossed
MOUNT HEKLA 1 67
a neve without any necessity for digging foot-holes. It lies
where sulphur is notably absent. The hot patches which
account for the freedom from snow, even so high above the
congelation-line, are scattered about the summit : in other
parts the thermometer, placed in an eighteen-inch hole, made
earth colder than air. After a short climb we reached the
apex ; the ruddy-walled northeastern lip of the Red Crater
(No. 2) : its lower or western rim forms two of the five
summits seen from the prairie, and hides the highest point.
We thus ascertained that Hekla is a linear volcano of two
mouths, or three including that of '45, and that it wants a
true apical crater. But how reconcile the accounts of trav-
ellers ? Pliny Miles found one cone and three craters i
Madam Ida Pfeiffer, like Metcalfe, three cones and no
crater.
On the summit the guides sang a song of triumph, whilst
we drank to the health of our charming companions and,
despite the cold wind which eventually drove us down, care-
fully studied the extensive view. The glorious day was
out of character with a scene niente che Montagne^ as the
unhappy Venetians described the Morea; rain and sleet and
blinding snow would better have suited the picture, but
happily they were conspicuous by their absence. Inland,
beyond a steep snow-bed unpleasantly crevassed, lay a grim
photograph all black and white ; Langjokull looking down
upon us with a grand and freezing stare; the Hrafntinnu
Valley marked by a dwarf cone, and beyond where streams
head, the gloomy regions stretching to the Sprengisandur,
dreary wastes of utter sterility, howling deserts of dark ashes.
1 68 MOUNT HEKLA
wholly lacking water and vegetable life, and wanting the
gleam and the glow which light up the Arabian wild.
Skaptar and Oraefa were hidden from sight. Seawards, rang-
ing from west to south, the view, by contrast, was a picture
of amenity and civilization. Beyond castellated Hljodfell
and conical Skjaldbreid appeared the familiar forms of Esja,
and the long lava projection of the Gold Breast country, melt-
ing into the western main. Nearer stretched the fair low-
lands, once a broad deep bay, now traversed by the net-
work of Olfusa, Thjorsa, and the Markarfljot ; while the
sixfold bunch of the Westman Islands, mere stone lumps
upon a blue ground, seemingly floating far below the raised
horizon, lay crowned by summer sea.. Eastward we dis-
tinctly traced the Fiskivotn. Run the eye along the southern
shore, and again the scene shifts. Below the red hornitos of
the slope rises the classical Three-horned, not lofty, but re-
markable for its trident top ; Tindf jail (tooth-fell) with its
two horns or pyramids of ice, casting blue shadows upon the
untrodden snow ; and the whole mighty mass known as the
Eastern Jokull Eyjafjall (island-fell), so called from the
black button of rock which crowns the long white dorsum j
Katla (Koltu-gja), Merkrjokull, and Godalands, all con-
nected by ridges, and apparently neither lofty nor imprac-
ticable.
Ultima Thule i or a Summer in Ice/and (hondon and Edin-
burgh, 1875).
VICTORIA FALLS
(.AFRICA)
DAVID LIVINGSTONE
WE proceeded next morning, 9th August, i860, to
see the Victoria Falls. Mosi-oa-tunya is the
Makololo name, and means smoke sounding ; Seongo or
Chongwe, meaning the Rainbow, or the place of the Rain-
bow, was the more ancient term they bore. We embarked
in canoes, belonging to Tuba Mokoro, " smasher of ca-
noes," an ominous name ; but he alone, it seems, knew the
medicine which insures one against shipwreck in the rapids
above the Falls. For some miles the river was smooth and
tranquil, and we glided pleasantly over water clear as
crystal, and past lovely islands densely covered with a
tropical vegetation. Noticeable among the many trees
were the lofty Hyphzene and Borassus palms ; the graceful
wild date-palm, with its fruit in golden clusters, and the
umbrageous mokononga, of cypress form, with its dark-
green leaves and scarlet fruit. Many flowers peeped out
near the water's edge, some entirely new to us, and others,
as the convolvulus, old acquaintances.
But our attention was quickly called from the charming
islands to the dangerous rapids, down which Tuba might
unintentionally shoot us. To confess the truth, the very
ugly aspect of these roaring rapids could scarcely fail to
lyo VICTORIA FALLS
cause some uneasiness in the minds of new-comers. It is
only when the river is very low, as it was now, that any
one durst venture to the island to which we were bound.
If one went during the period of flood, and fortunately hit
the island, he would be obliged to remain there till the
water subsided again, if he lived so long. Both hippo-
potamus and elephants have been known to be swept over
the Falls, and of course smashed to pulp.
Before entering the race of waters, we were requested
not to speak, as our talking might diminish the virtue of
the medicine ; and no one with such boiling, eddying rapids
before his eyes, would think of disobeying the orders of a
" canoe-smasher." It soon became evident that there was
sound sense in this request of Tuba's, although the reason
assigned was not unlike that of the canoe-man from Sesheke,
who begged one of our party not to whistle because whistling
made the wind come. It was the duty of the man at the
bow to look out ahead for the proper course, and when he
saw a rock or snag to call out to the steersman. Tuba
doubtless thought that talking on board might divert the at-
tention of his steersman, at a time when the neglect of an
order, or a slight mistake, would be sure to spill us all into
the chafing river. There were places where the utmost
exertions of both men had to be put forth in order to force
the canoe to the only safe part of the rapid, and to prevent
it from sweeping down broadside on, where in a twinkling
we should have found ourselves floundering among the
plotuses and cormorants, which were engaged in diving
for their breakfast of small fish. At times it seemed as if
VICTORIA FALLS I7I
nothing could save us from dashing in our headlong race
against the rocks which, now that the river was low, jutted
out of the water; but just at the very nick of time, Tuba
passed the word to the steersman, and then with ready pole
turned the canoe a little aside and we glided swiftly past the
threatened danger. Never was canoe more admirably
managed : once only did the medicine seem to have lost
something of its efficacy. We were driving swiftly down,
a black rock, over which the white foam flew, lay directly
in our path, the pole was planted against it as readily as
ever, but it slipped just as Tuba put forth his strength to
turn the bow off. We struck hard, and were half-full of
water in a moment ; Tuba recovered himself as speedily,
shoved off the bow, and shot the canoe into a still shallow
place, to bale out the water. Here we were given to under-
stand that it was not the medicine which was at fault ; that
had lost none of its virtue ; the accident was owing en-
tirely to Tuba having started without his breakfast. Need
it be said we never left Tuba go without that meal again ?
We landed at the head of Garden Island, which is
situated near the middle of the river and on the lip of the
Falls. On reaching that lip, and peering over the giddy
height, the wondrous and unique character of the mag-
nificent cascade at once burst upon us.
It is a rather hopeless task to endeavour to convey an
idea of it in words, since, as was remarked on the spot, an
accomplished painter, even by a number of views, could
but impart a faint impression of the glorious scene. The
probable mode of its formation may perhaps help to the
172 VICTORIA FALLS
conception of its peculiar shape. Niagara has been formed
by a wearing back of the rock over which the river falls ;
but during the long course of ages, it has gradually receded,
and left a broad, deep, and pretty straight trough in front.
It goes on wearing back daily, and may yet discharge the
lakes from which its river — the St. Lawrence — flows. But
the Victoria Falls have been formed by a crack right across the
river, in the hard, black, basaltic rock which there formed
the bed of the Zambesi. The lips of the crack are still
quite sharp, save about three feet of the edge over which
the river rolls. The walls go sheer down from the lips
without any projecting crag, or symptoms of stratification
or dislocation. When the mighty rift occurred, no change
of level took place in the two parts of the bed of the river
thus rent asunder, consequently, in coming down the river
to Garden Island, the water suddenly disappears, and we
see the opposite side of the cleft, with grass and trees grow-
ing where once the river ran, on the same level as that part
of its bed on which we sail. The first crack, is, in length,
a few yards more than the breadth of the Zambesi, which
by measurement we found to be a little over 1,860 yards,
but this number we resolved to retain as indicating the year
in which the Fall was for the first time carefully examined.
The main stream here runs nearly north and south, and the
cleft across it is nearly east and west. The depth of the
rift was measured by lowering a line, to the end of which
a few bullets and a foot of white cotton cloth were tied.
One of us lay with his head over a projecting crag, and
watched the descending calico, till, after his companions
^-N-/^'
VICTORIA FALLS 173
had paid out 310 feet, the weight rested on a sloping pro-
jection, probably fifty feet from the water below, the actual
bottom being still further down. The white cloth now
appeared the size of a crown-piece. On measuring the
width of this deep cleft by sextant, it was found at Garden
Island, its narrowest part, to be eighty yards, and at its
broadest somewhat more. Into this chasm, of twice the
depth of Niagara-fall, the river, a full mile wide, rolls with
a deafening roar ; and this is Mosi-oa-tunya, or the Victoria
Falls.
Looking from Garden Island, down to the bottom of the
abyss, nearly half a mile of water, which has fallen over
that portion of the Falls to our right, or west of our point
of view, is seen collected in a narrow channel twenty or
thirty yards wide, and flowing at exactly right angles to its
previous course, to our left ; while the other half, or that
which fell over the eastern portion of the Falls, is seen in
the left of the narrow channel below, coming towards our
right. Both waters unite midway, in a fearful boiling
waterfall, and find an outlet by a crack situated at right
angles to the fissure of the Falls. This outlet is about
1,170 yards from the western end of the chasm, and some
600 from its eastern end ; the whirlpool is at its com-
mencement. The Zambesi, now apparently not more than
twenty or thirty yards wide, rushes and surges south,
through the narrow escape-channel for 130 yards; then
enters a second chasm somewhat deeper, and nearly parallel
with the first. Abandoning the bottom of the eastern
half of this second chasm to the growth of large trees, it
174 VICTORIA FALLS
turns sharply off" to the west, and forms a promontory,
with the escape-channel at its point, of 1,170 yards long,
and 416 yards broad at the base. After reaching this base,
the river runs abruptly round the head of another promontory,
and flows away to the east, in a third chasm ; then glides
round a third promontory, much narrower than the rest,
and away back to the west, in a fourth chasm ; and we
could see in the distance that it appeared to round still
another promontory, and bend once more in another chasm
toward the east. In this gigantic, zigzag, yet narrow
trough, the rocks are all so sharply cut and angular, that
the idea at once arises that the hard basaltic trap must have
been riven into its present shape by a force acting from
beneath, and that this probably took place when the ancient
inland seas were cut off" by similar fissures nearer the
ocean.
The land beyond, or on the south of the Falls, retains,
as already remarked, the same level as before the rent was
made. It is as if the trough below Niagara were bent right
and left, several times before it reached the railway bridge.
The land in the supposed bends being of the same height as
that above the Fall, would give standing-places, or points
of view, of the same nature as that from the railway bridge,
but the nearest would be only eighty yards, instead of two
miles (the distance to the bridge) from the face of the
cascade. The tops of the promontories are in general flat,
smooth, and studded with trees. The first, with its base on
the east, is at one place so narrow, that it would be danger-
ous to walk to its extremity. On the second, however, we
VICTORIA FALLS 1 75
found a broad rhinoceros path and a hut ; but, unless the
builder were a hermit, with a pet rhinoceros, we cannot
conceive what beast or man ever went there for. On
reaching the apex of this second eastern promontory we
saw the great river, of a deep sea-green colour, now sorely
compressed, gliding away, at least 400 feet below us.
Garden Island, when the river is low, commands the
best view of the Great Fall chasm, as also of the promon-
tory opposite, with its grove of large evergreen trees, and
brilliant rainbows of three-quarters of a circle, two, three,
and sometimes even four in number, resting on the face of
the vast perpendicular rock, down which tiny streams are
always running to be swept again back by the upward rush-
mg vapour. But as, at Niagara, one has to go over to the
Canadian shore to see the chief wonder — the Great Horse-
shoe Fall — so here we have to cross over to Moselekatse's
side to the promontory of evergreens, for the best view of
the principal Falls of Mosi-oa-tunya. Beginning, there-
fore, at the base of this promontory, and facing the Cata-
ract, at the west end of the chasm, there is, first, a fall of
thirty-six yards in breadth, and of course, as they all are,
upwards of 310 feet in depth. Then Boaruka, a small
island, intervenes, and next comes a great fall, with a
breadth of 573 yards ; a projecting rock separates this from
a second grand fall of 325 yards broad ; in all, upwards of
900 yards of perennial Falls. Further east stands Garden
Island ; then, as the river was at its lowest, came a good
deal of the bare rock of its bed, with a score of narrow
falls, which, at the time of flood, constitute one enormous
176 VICTORIA FALLS
cascade of nearly another half-mile. Near the east end of
the chasm are two larger falls, but they are nothing at low
water compared to those between the islands.
The whole body of water rolls clear over, quite un-
broken ; but, after a descent of ten or more feet, the entire
mass suddenly becomes a huge sheet of driven snow.
Pieces of water leap off it in the form of comets with tails
streaming behind, till the whole snowy sheet becomes
myriads of rushing, leaping, aqueous comets. This pecul-
iarity was not observed by Charles Livingstone at Niagara,
and here it happens, possibly from the dryness of the at-
mosphere, or whatever the cause may be which makes
every drop of Zambesi water appear to possess a sort of in-
dividuality. It runs off the ends of the paddles, and glides
in beads along the smooth surface, like drops of quicksilver
on a table. Here we see them in a conglomeration, each
with a train of pure white vapour, racing down till lost in
clouds of spray. A stone dropped in became less and less
to the eye, and at last disappeared in the dense mist below.
Charles Livingstone had seen Niagara, and gave Mosi-
oa-tunya the palm, though now at the end of a drought,
and the river at its very lowest. Many feel a disappoint-
ment on first seeing the great American Falls, but Mosi-oa-
tunya is so strange, it must ever cause wonder. In the
amount of water, Niagara probably excels, though not
during the months when the Zambesi is in flood. The
vast body of water, separating in the comet-like forms de-
scribed, necessarily encloses in its descent a large volume
of air, which, forced into the cleft, to an unknown depth,
VICTORIA FALLS 177
rebounds, and rushes up loaded with vapour to form the
three or even six columns, as if of steam, visible at the
Batoka village Moachemba, twenty-one miles distant. On
attaining a height of 200, or at most 300 feet from the
level of the river above the cascade, this vapour becomes
condensed into a perpetual shower of fine rain. Much of
the spray, rising to the west of Garden Island, falls on the
grove of evergreen trees opposite; and from their leaves,
heavy drops are for ever falling, to form sundry little rills,
which, in running down the steep face of rock, are blown
off and turned back, or licked off their perpendicular bed,
up into the column from which they have just descended.
The morning sun gilds these columns of watery smoke
with all the glowing colours of double or treble rainbows.
The evening sun, from a hot yellow sky imparts a sul-
phureous hue, and gives one the impression that the yawn-
ing gulf might resemble the mouth of the bottomless pit.
No bird sings and sings on the branches of the grove of
perpetual showers, or ever builds his nest there. We saw
hornbills and flocks of little black weavers flying across
from the mainland to the islands, and from the islands to
the points of the promontories and back again, but they
uniformly shunned the region of perpetual rain, occupied
by the evergreen grove. The sunshine, elsewhere in this
land so overpowenng, never penetrates the deep gloom of
that shade. In the presence of the strange Mosi-oa-tunya,
we can sympathize with those who, when the world was
young, peopled earth, air, and river, with beings not of
mortal form. Sacred to what deity would be this awful
178 VICTORIA FALLS
chasm and that dark grove, over which hovers an ever-
abiding " pillar of cloud " ?
The ancient Batoka chieftains used Kazeruka, now
Garden Island, and Boaruka, the island further west, also
on the lip of the Falls, as sacred spots for worshipping the
Deity. It is no wonder that under the cloudy columns,
and near the brilliant rainbows, with the ceaseless roar of
the cataract, with the perpetual flow, as if pouring forth
from the hand of the Almighty, their souls should be filled
with reverential awe.
The Zambeii and its Tributaries 18^8—186^ (London,
1865).
THE DRAGON-TREE OF OROTAVA>
( CANAR Y ISLANDS )
ALEXANDER VON HUMBOLDT
OROTAVA, the ancient Taoro of the Guanches, is
situated on a very steep declivity. The streets
seem deserted ; the houses are solidly built, and of gloomy
appearance. We passed along a lofty aqueduct, lined with
a great number of fine ferns ; and visited several gardens,
in which the fruit trees of the north of Europe are mingled
with orange trees, pomegranates, and date trees. We were
assured, that these last were as little productive here as on
the coast of Cumana. Although we had been made ac-
quainted, from the narratives of many travellers, with the
dragon-tree in M. Franqui's garden, we were not the less
struck with its enormous size. We were told, that the trunk
of this tree, which is mentioned in several very ancient docu-
ments as marking the boundaries of a field, was as gigantic
in the Fifteenth Century as it is in the present time. Its
height appeared to us to be about fifty or sixty feet ; its
circumference near the roots is forty-five feet. We could
not measure higher, but Sir George Staunton found that,
ten feet from the ground, the diameter of the trunk is still
twelve English feet ; which corresponds perfectly with the
statement of Borda, who found its mean circumference
thirty-three feet, eight inches, French measure. The trunk
'This famous tree was blown down by a storm in 1868. Its age was
estimated from five to six thousanJ years. — E. S.
l8o THE DRAGON-TREE OF OROTAVA
is divided into a great number of branches, which rise in
the form of a candelabrum, and are terminated by tufts of
leaves, like the yucca which adorns the valley of Mexico.
This division gives it a very different appearance from that
of the palm-tree.
Among organic creations, this tree is undoubtedly, to-
gether with the Adansonia or baobab of Senegal, one of
the oldest inhabitants of our globe. The baobabs are of
still greater dimensions than the dragon-tree of Orotava.
There are some which near the root measure thirty-four
feet in diameter, though their total height is only from fifty
to sixty feet. But we should observe, that the Adansonia,
like the ochroma, and all the plants of the family of bom-
bax, grow much more rapidly than the dracaena, the vegeta-
tion of which is very slow. That in M. Franqui's garden
still bears every year both flowers and fruit. Its aspect
forcibly exemplifies " that eternal youth of nature," which
is an inexhaustible source of motion and of life.
The dracana^ which is seen only in cultivated spots in
the Canary Islands, at Madeira, and Porto Santo, presents
a curious phenomenon with respect to the emigration of
plants. It has never been found in a wild state on the
continent of Africa. The East Indies is its real country.
How has this tree been transplanted to Teneriff^e, where it
is by no means common ? Does its existence prove, that,
at some very distant period, the Guanches had connexions
with other nations originally from Asia ? ^
' The form of the dragon-tree is exhibited in several species of the
genus Dracaena, at the Cape of Good Hope, in China, and in New Zea-
THK DRAGON TREE.
THE DRAGON-TREE OF OROTAVA l8l
The age of trees is marked by .their size, and the union
of age with the manifestation of constantly renewed vigour
is a charm peculiar to the vegetable kingdom. The gigan-
tic Dragon-tree of Orotava (as sacred in the eyes of the
inhabitants of the Canaries as the olive-tree in the Citadel
of Athens, or the Elm of Ephesus), the diameter of which
I found, when I visited those islands, to be more than six-
teen feet, had the same colossal size when the French ad-
venturers, the Bethencourts, conquered these gardens of the
Hesperides in the beginning of the Fifteenth Century; yet
it still flourishes, as if in perpetual youth, bearing flowers and
fruit. A tropical forest of Hymenaeas and Caesalpinieae
may perhaps present to us a monument of more than a
thousand years' standing.
This colossal dragon-tree, Draceena draco, stands in one
of the most delightful spots in the world. In June, 1799,
when we ascended the Peak of TenerifFe, we measured the
circumference of the tree and found it nearly forty-eight
English feet. Our measurement was taken several feet
above the root. Lower down, and nearer to the ground,
Le Dru made it nearly seventy-nine English feet. The
height of the tree is not much above sixty-nine English
feet. According to tradition, this tree was venerated by
land. But in New Zealand it is superseded by the form of the yucca ;
for the Draceena borealis of Aiton is a Convallaria, of which it has all the
appearance. The astringent juice, known in commerce by the name of
dragon's blood, is, according to the inquiries we made on the spot, the
produce of several American plants. At Laguna, toothpicks steeped in
the juice of the dragon-tree are made in the nunneries, and are much ex-
tolled as highly useful for keeping the gums in a healthy state.
1 82 THE DRAGON-TREE OF OROTAVA
the Guanches (as was the ash-tree of Ephesus by the
Greeks, or as the Lydian plane-tree which Xerxes decked
with ornaments, and the sacred Banyan-tree of Ceylon),
and at the time of the first expedition of the Bethencourts
in 1402, it was already as thick and as hollow as it now is.
Remembering that the Dracaena grows extremely slowly,
we are led to infer the high antiquity of the tree of Orotava.
Bertholet in his description of Teneriffe, says : " En com-
parant les jeunes Dragonniers^ voisins de Harbre gigantesque^
les calcus qu* on fait sur P age de ce dernier effraient /' imagina-
tion." (Nova Acta Acad. Leop. Carol. Naturae Curi-
osorum 1827, vol. xiii., p. 781.) The dragon-tree has
been cultivated in the Canaries, and in Madeira and Porto
Santo, from the earliest times ; and an accurate observer,
Leopold von Buch, has even found it wild in Teneriffe,
near Igueste.
The measurement of the dragon-tree of the Villa Fran-
qui was made on Borda's first voyage with Pingre, in
177 1 ; not in his second voyage, in 1776, with Varela. It
is affirmed that in the earlier times of the Norman and
Spanish conquests, in the Fifteenth Century, Mass was
said at a small altar erected in the hollow trunk of the tree.
Unfortunately, the dragon-tree of Orotava lost one side of
its top in the storm of the 21st of July, 18 19.
Personal Narrative of Travels to the Equinoctial Regions
of America during the years /7pp-/<?o^ (Ivondon, 1825); and
Aspects of Nature (Philadelphia, 1849).
MOUNT SHASTA
( UNITED S TA TES )
J. W. BODDAM-WHETHAM
MOUNT SHASTA is the most striking feature of
Northern California. Its height is about 14,500
feet above the sea — very nearly the height of Mount Blanc
Mount Blanc is broken into a succession of peaks, but
Shasta is one stupendous peak, set upon a broad base that
sweeps out far and wide. From the base the volcanic cone
rises up in one vast stretch of snow and lava. It is very
precipitous to the north and south, but east and west there
are two slopes right up to the crater. It is a matter of
doubt whether Shasta is dead or only sleeping. Vesuvius
slept calmly for centuries, and then spread death and deso-
lation for miles around. The base of the mountain is
magnificently watered and wooded, and forms a splendid
hunting-ground. The woods are full of deer and bears ;
and now and then a mountain-goat, an animal very like the
chamois of the Alps, is seen in the higher part of the
mountains.
Well-provided with blankets and provisions, we started
with a guide, and a man to look after the horses, at a very
early hour, and rode through a beautiful forest of pines,
silver firs, and cedars. Along the banks of the streams
were aspens, willows, and the trees known by the name of
184 MOUNT SHASTA
the " Balm of Gilead," whose vivid green leaves were
already changing to a rich orange or an apple-red — forming
a beautiful contrast of colours with the glazed green of
the cedars and the green-tinted white of the silver firs.
After an easy ascent to a height of about 8,000 feet, we
reached the limits of vegetation. Thence our upward path
lay over snow, ice, and lava — lonely, isolated barrenness on
every side, relieved only by an occasional solitary dwarf-
pine, struggling to retain life amidst fierce storms and
heavy-weighing snow. Many of them were quite dead,
but embalmed by frost and snow in a never-decaying death.
With a few loads of this fuel we soon made a splendid
fire, the warmth of which was most welcome in the cold
rarefied atmosphere. Scarcely had we finished a capital
supper ere night descended, and great clouds and fitful fogs
began to drift past. These in their turn broke, and the
moon threw a weird light over the forest below ; whilst
above rose piles upon piles of pinkish lava and snow-fields,
reaching far up into the sky, whose magnificent blue grew
more sparkling and clear every moment.
Wrapping ourselves in our bundles of blankets, we crept
as close as possible to the huge fire, and before long my
companions were fast asleep and snoring. I could not
sleep a wink, and mentally registered a vow never again to
camp out without a pillow. No one can tell till he has
tried it, the difference there is between going to sleep with
a pillow under the head and a stone or a pair of boots or
saddle as its resting-place.
The deep silence, unbroken save by a most unromantic
MOUNT SHASTA 1 85
snore, was painfully oppressive, and I longed to hear even
a growl from a bear or a deep whine from a California lion.^
I listened intently, for it seemed as if the slightest sound,
even a hundred miles away, ought to be heard, so still and
frosty was the air.
But none fell on my ear, not even a murmur to soothe
one to sleep, and I began to think bears and lions were
snores and delusions, when, just as I was dozing off, I felt
my arm violently pulled, and a voice called out that it was
time for us to make a start. Hot coffee soon had a cheer-
ing effect, and long before daylight we left our warm camp-
ing-ground, and began the higher ascent on foot. Broken
stone and slabs of lava afforded pretty good foothold, far
preferable to the fields of frozen snow, which we carefully
avoided. After a couple of hours' hard walking we seemed
to be just as far from the summit as when we started ; but
the views gradually became grander. From a rocky promon-
tory we looked back over a sea of glittering clouds, the only
land visible being the peaks of the Coast range, near the
Pacific ; all else was cloud, to which the moonlight lent an
almost dazzling whiteness :
" Far clouds of feathery gold,
Shaded with deepest purple, gleam
Like islands on a dark blue sea."
When the sun rose and the mists cleared off, the scene
was indescribably grand, and the gradual unfolding of the
vast panorama unapproachable in its splendour.
' These so-called lions are a sort of panther, and abound in most parts
of California and Oregon. They are very cowardly, and seldom attack a
men, unless they can spring on him from a tree, and not often then.
1 86 MOUNT SHASTA
After some hours of weary climbing over crumbling
scoria and splintered rock, we reached the crater. In the
ascent to the summit overlooking the crater, we had to
cross an ice-field. It had that blue tinge found in the ice
of which glaciers are composed, and its slipperiness made
it almost impossible to walk over it, the ice lying often in
ridges resembling the waves of the sea.
The main crater covers several acres. It is hemmed in
by rims of rock, and is filled with volcanic debris^ covered
with snow and ice. Numbers of little boiling springs were
bubbling up through the bed of sulphur, and were sugges-
tive of the subterranean fires which once threw their molten
lava over the surrounding country. The view from the
summit was most extensive, and fortunately there was none
of the usual smoke from the forest-fires, so prevalent in
autumn in Northern California and Oregon, to impede the
range of vision.
Looking northward, far over into Oregon, we could see
her lakes, valleys, and mountains. Southward, we could
trace the Sacramento and Pitt rivers. The great boundar}'-
wall of the Sierra Nevada lay to the east, and farther on-
ward, the deserts and sparkling lakes of Utah could be
distinguished. To the west the sinuous outline of the
Coast range was visible, and beyond, the broad Pacific
shelved away to the horizon. Fertile valleys, rugged
mountains, wood and water, all lent their aid to enhance
the beauty of this unsurpassable scene.
The descent to our camping-ground was accomplished
in a comparatively short time. On the way, we stopped
MOUNT SHASTA 1 87
to witness a most glorious sunset. Round the horizon ran
a thin mist with a brilliant depth of colouring. To the
east a blue gauze seemed to cover each valley as it sank
into night, and the intervening ridges rose with increasing
distinctness. The lower country was flooded with an ex-
quisitely delicate light, and a few fleecy clouds tinted with
gold, pale salmon, and sapphire, passed over the empurpled
hills of the Coast range. The great shadow of Mount
Shasta spread itself, cone-like, across the valley ; the blue
mists were quenched ; the distant mountains glowed like
fairy hills for a few moments ; and the sun, poising itself
like a great globe of fire in the darkening heavens, de-
scended slowly below the golden ridge to illumine another
hemisphere.
During our descent we passed through some patches of
red snow, which leaves a crimson track behind those who
cross over it. This curious phenomenon is always avoided
by the Shasta Indians, when acting as guides or porters,
as they say it brings death if you tread on it willingly
and after due warning. We found a warm fire to
welcome us on our arrival at the camp, and the ex-
ertions of the day made us very willing to turn in
among the blankets where we slept soundly till long after
daybreak. The following day, when we arrived at our origi-
nal starting-point, my companions resumed their journey to
San Francisco, and I went on to Sissons, a station on the
stage-road, whence I was to start on a shooting expedition
amongst the Castle Rocks.
Sissons, so-called after the name of the proprietor, is a
1 88 MOUNT SHASTA
very delightful place to spend a few days at. The view of
Mount Shasta, which is directly opposite the house, is mag-
nificent; and Sisson himself is a capital sportsman guide,
and succeeds in making his guests very comfortable.
Looking at Mount Shasta is occupation enough for some
time. The play of colour on the mountain is extraordi-
nary. The lava, which is of a rosy hue, often penetrates
through the snow, and when the sun shines upon it the
effect is most beautiful. The pure white fields of snow
are diversified by great blue glaciers, and when the sun-
beams fall with refracted glory on the veins of ice they ex-
hibit wonderful tints of opal, green, and pink. The effects
produced by the mingling colours of lava, snow, and ice,
and the contrasting shadows of a deep violet hue are so
varied, and the radiation of colour at sunrise and sunset so
vivid, that it is difficult to keep the eyes turned from the
mountain — for nothing seems worthy of consideration in
comparison with Shasta.
Western Wanderings : a Record of Travel in the Evening
Land (London, 1874).
THE LAGOONS OF VENICE
(.ITALY}
JOHN RUSKIN
IN the olden days of travelling, now to return no more,
in which distance could not be vanquished without toil,
but in which that toil was rewarded, partly by the power
of deliberate survey of the countries through which the
journey lay, and partly by the happiness of the evening
hours, when from the top of the last hill he had sur-
mounted, the traveller beheld the quiet village where he
was to rest, scattered among the meadows beside its valley
stream ; or, from the long hoped for turn in the dusty
perspective of the causeway, saw, for the first time, the
towers of some famed city, faint in the rays of sunset —
hours of peaceful and thoughtful pleasure, for which the
rush of the arrival in the railway station is perhaps not
always, or to all men, an equivalent, — in those days, I say,
when there was something more to be anticipated and re-
membered in the first aspect of each successive halting-
place, than a new arrangement of glass roofing and iron
girder, there were few moments of which the recollection
was more fondly cherished by the travelled, than that
which, as I endeavoured to describe in the close of the last
chapter, brought him within sight of Venice as his gondola
shot into the open lagoon from the canal of Mestre. Not
1 90 THE LAGOONS OF VENICE
but that the aspect of the city itself was generally the
source of some slight disappointment, for seen in this direc-
tion, its buildings are far less characteristic than those of
other great towns of Italy ; but this inferiority was partly
disguised by distance, and more than atoned for by the
strange rising of its walls and towers out of the midst, as it
seemed, of the deep sea, for it was impossible that the mind
or the eye could at once comprehend the shallowness of the
vast sheet of water which stretched away in leagues of
rippling lustre to the north and south, or trace the narrow
line of islets bounding it to the east. The salt breeze, the
moaning sea-birds, the masses of black weed separating and
disappearing gradually, in knots of heaving shoal, under the
advance of the steady tide, all proclaimed it to be indeed
the ocean on whose bosom the great city rested so calmly ;
not such blue, soft, lake-like ocean as bathes the Neapolitan
promontories, or sleeps beneath the marble rocks of Genoa,
but a sea with the bleak power of our own northern waves,
yet subdued into a strange spacious rest, and changed from
its angry pallor into a field of burnished gold, as the sun
declined behind the belfry tower of the lonely island
church, fitly named " St. George of the Seaweed." As the
boat drew nearer to the city, the coast which the traveller
had just left sank behind him into one long, low, sad-
coloured line, tufted irregularly with brushwood and wil-
lows ; but, at what seemed its northern extremity, the hills
of Arqua rose in a dark cluster of purple pyramids, bal-
anced on the bright mirage of the lagoon ; two or three
smooth surges of inferior hill extended themselves about
THE LAGOONS OF VENICE I9I
their roots, and beyond these, beginning with the craggy
peaks above Vicenza, the chain of the Alps girded the
whole horizon to the north — a wall of jagged blue, here
and there showing through its clefts a wilderness of misty
precipices, fading far back into the recesses of Cadore, and
itself rising and breaking away eastward, where the sun
struck opposite upon its snow, into mighty fragments of
peaked light, standing up behind the barred clouds of even-
ing, one after another, countless, the crown of the Adrian
Sea, until the eye turned back from pursuing them, to rest
upon the nearer burning of the campaniles of Murano, and
on the great city, where it magnified itself along the waves,
as the quick, silent pacing of the gondola drew nearer and
nearer. And at last, when its walls were reached, and the
outmost of its untrodden streets was entered, not through
towered gate or guarded rampart, but as a deep inlet be-
tween two rocks of coral in the Indian sea; when first
upon the traveller's sight opened the long ranges of col-
umned palaces, — each with its black boat moored at the
portal, — each with its image cast down, beneath its feet,
upon that green pavement which every breeze broke into
new fantasies of rich tessellation ; when first, at the ex-
tremity of the bright vista, the shadowy Rialto threw its
colossal curve slowly forth from behind the palace of the
Camerlenghi ; that strange curve, so delicate, so adaman-
tine, strong as a mountain cavern, graceful as a bow just
bent ; when first, before its moonlike circumference was all
risen, the gondolier's cry, " Ah ! Stall," struck sharp upon
the ear, and the prow turned aside under the mighty cor-
192 THE LAGOONS OF VENICE
nices that half met over the narrow canal, where the splash
of the water followed close and loud, ringing along the
marble by the boat's side ; and when at last that boat
darted forth upon the breadth of silver sea, across which
the front of the Ducal palace, flushed with its sanguine
veins, looks to the snowy dome of Our Lady of Salvation,
it was no marvel that the mind should be so deeply en-
tranced by the visionary charm of a scene so beautiful and
so strange, as to forget the darker truths of its history and
its being. Well might it seem that such a city had owed
her existence rather to the rod of the enchanter, than the
fear of the fugitive ; that the waters which encircled her
had been chosen for the mirror of her state, rather than the
shelter of her nakedness ; and that all which in nature was
wild or merciless ; — Time and Decay, as well as the waves
and tempests, — had been won to adorn her instead of to
destroy, and might still spare, for ages to come, that beauty
which seemed to have fixed for its throne the sands of the
hour-glass as well as of the sea.
From the mouths of the Adige to those of the Piave there
stretches, at a variable distance of from three to five miles
from the actual shore, a bank of sand, divided into long is-
lands by narrow channels of sea. The space between this
bank and the true shore consists of the sedimentary deposits
from these and other rivers, a great plain of calcareous mud,
covered, in the neighbourhood of Venice, by the sea at high
water, to the depth in most places of a foot or a foot and a
half, and nearly everywhere exposed at low tide, but divided
by an intricate network of narrow and winding channels.
THE LAGOONS OF VENICE I93
from which the sea never retires. In some places, accord-
ing to the run of the currents, the land has risen into
marshy islets, consolidated, some by art, and some by time,
into ground firm enough to be built upon, or fruitful enough
to be cultivated ; in others, on the contrary, it has not
reached the sea level; so that, at the average low water,
shallow lakelets glitter among its irregularly exposed fields
of seaweed. In the midst of the largest of these, increased
in importance by the confluence of several large river chan-
nels towards one of the openings in the sea bank, the city
of Venice itself is built, on a crowded cluster of islands ;
the various plots of higher ground which appear to the north
and south of this central cluster, have at different periods
been also thickly inhabited, and now bear, according to their
size, the remains of cities, villages, or isolated convents and
churches, scattered among spaces of open ground, partly
waste and encumbered by ruins, partly under cultivation for
the supply of the metropolis.
The average rise and fall of the tide is about three feet
(varying considerably with the season) ; but this fall, on so
flat a shore, is enough to cause continual movement in the
waters, and in the main canals to produce a reflux which
frequently runs like a mill stream. At high water no land
is visible for many miles to the north or south of Venice,
except in the form of small islands crowned with towers or
gleaming with villages ; there is a channel, some three
miles wide, between the city and the mainland, and some
mile and a half wide between it and the sandy breakwater
called the Lido, which divides the lagoon from the Adriatic,
194 THE LAGOONS OF VENICE
but which is so low as hardly to disturb the impression of
the city's having been built in the midst of the ocean, al-
though the secret of its true position is partly, yet not pain-
fully, betrayed by the clusters of piles set to mark the deep
water channels, which undulate far away in spotty chains
like the studded backs of huge sea-snakes, and by the quick
glittering of the crisped and crowded waves that flicker and
dance before the strong winds upon the unlifted level of the
shallow sea. But the scene is widely different at low tide.
A fall of eighteen or twenty inches is enough to show
ground over the greater part of the lagoon ; and at the com-
plete ebb, the city is seen standing in the midst of a dark
plain of seaweed, of gloomy green, except only where the
larger branches of the Brenta and its associated streams con-
verge towards the port of the Lido. Through this salt and
sombre plain the gondola and the fishing-boat advance by
tortuous channels, seldom more than four or five feet deep,
and often so choked with slime that the heavier keels furrow
the bottom till their crossing tracks are seen through the
clear sea water like the ruts upon a wintry road, and the oar
leaves the gashes upon the ground at every stroke, or is en-
tangled among the thick weed that fringes the banks with
the weight of its sullen waves, leaning to and fro upon the
uncertain sway of the exhausted tide. The scene is often
profoundly oppressive, even at this day, when every plot of
higher ground bears some fragment of fair building : but, in
order to know what it was once, let the traveller follow in
his boat at evening the windings of some unfrequented
channel far into the midst of the melancholy plain ; let him
THE LAGOONS OF VENICE I95
remove in his imagination, the brightness of the great city
that still extends itself in the distance, and the walls and
towers from the islands that are near ; and so wait, until
the bright investiture and sweet warmth of the sunset are
withdrawn from the waters, and the black desert of their
shore lies in its nakedness beneath the night, pathless, com-
fortless, infirm, lost in dark languor and fearful silence, ex-
cept where the salt rivulets plash into the tideless pools, or
the sea-birds flit from their margins with a questioning cry ;
and he will be enabled to enter in some sort into the horror
of heart with which this solitude was anciently chosen by
man for his habitation. They little thought, who first drove
the stakes into the sand, and strewed the ocean reeds for
their rest, that their children were to be the princes of the
ocean, and their palaces its pride ; and yet, in the great
natural laws that rule that sorrowful wilderness, let it be re-
membered what strange preparation had been made for the
things which no human imagination could have foretold,
and how the whole existence and fortune of the Venetian
nation were anticipated or compelled, by the setting of those
bars and doors to the rivers and the sea. Had deeper currents
divided their islands, hostile navies would again and again have
reduced the rising city into servitude ; had stronger surges
beaten their shores, all the riches and refinement of the
Venetian architecture must have been exchanged for the walls
and bulwarks of an ordinary seaport. Had there been no
tide, as in other parts of the Mediterranean, the narrow
canals of the city would have become noisome, and the
marsh in which it was built pestiferous. Had the tide been
196 THE LAGOONS OF VENICE
only a foot or eighteen inches higher in its rise, the water
access to the doors of the palaces would have been impos-
sible : even as it is, there is sometimes a little difficulty, at
the ebb, in landing without setting foot upon the lower and
slippery steps ; and the highest tides sometimes enter the
courtyards, and overflow the entrance halls. Eighteen
inches more of difference between the level of the flood
and ebb would have rendered the doorsteps of every palace,
at low water, a treacherous mass of weeds and limpets, and
the entire system of water-carriage for the higher classes, in
their easy and daily intercourse, must have been done away
with. The streets of the city would have been widened,
its network of canals filled up, and all the peculiar character
of the place and the people destroyed.
The reader may perhaps have felt some pain in the con-
trast between this faithful view of the site of the Venetian
Throne, and the romantic conception of it which we
ordinarily form ; but this pain, if he have felt it, ought to be
more than counterbalanced by the value of the instance
thus afforded to us at once of the inscrutableness and the
wisdom of the ways of God. If, two thousand years ago,
we had been permitted to watch the slow setting of the
shrine of those turbid rivers into the polluted sea, and the
gaining upon its deep and fresh waters of the lifeless,
impassable, unvoyageable plain, how little could we have
understood the purpose with which those islands were
shaped out of the void, and the torpid waters enclosed with
their desolate walls of sand ! How little could we have
known, any more than of what now seems to us most
THE LAGOONS OF VENICE 1 97
distressful, dark, and objectless, the glorious aim which was
then in the mind of Him in whose hands are all the corners
of the earth ! how little imagined that in the laws which
were stretching forth the gloomy margins of those fruitless
banks, and feeding the bitter grass among their shallows,
there was indeed a preparation, and the only preparation pos-
sible^ for the founding of a city which was to be set like a
golden clasp on the girdle of the earth, to write her history
on the white scrolls of the sea-su.ges, and to word it in
their thunder, and to gather and give forth, in world-wide
pulsation, the glory of the West and of the East, from the
burning heart of her Fortitude and Splendour !
The Stones of Venice (Sunnyside, Orpington, Kent, 1886).
THE CATARACTS OF THE NILE
(.AFRICA)
AMELIA B. EDWARDS
AT Assuan one bids good-bye to Egypt and enters
Nubia through the gates of the Cataract — which is,
in truth, no cataract, but a succession of rapids extending
over two-thirds of the distance between Elephantine and
Philae. The Nile — diverted from its original course by
some unrecorded catastrophe, the nature of which has
given rise to much scientific conjecture — here spreads
itself over a rocky basin bounded by sand slopes on the one
side, and by granite clifFs on the other. Studded with
numerous islets, divided into numberless channels, foaming
over sunken rocks, eddying among water-worn boulders,
now shallow, now deep, now loitering, now hurrying, here
sleeping in the ribbed hollow of a tiny sand-drift, there
circling above the vortex of a hidden whirlpool, the river,
whether looked upon from the deck of the dahabeeyah, or
the heights above the shore, is seen everywhere to be fight-
ing its way through a labyrinth, the paths of which have
never yet been mapped or sounded.
These paths are everywhere difficult and everywhere
dangerous ; and to that labyrinth the Shellalee, or Cataract
Arab, alone possesses the key. At the time of the
inundation, when all but the highest rocks are under water,
THE CATARACTS OF THE NILE 1 99
and navigation is as easy here as elsewhere, the Shellalee's
occupation is gone. But as the floodr subside and travellers
begin to reappear, his work commences. To haul daha-
beeyahs up those treacherous rapids by sheer stress of rope
and muscle ; to steer skillfully down again through channels
bristling with rocks and boiling with foam, becomes now,
for some five months of the year, his principal industry. It
is hard work ; but he gets well paid for it, and his profits
are always on the increase. From forty to fifty dahabeeyahs
are annually taken up between November and March ; and
every year brings a larger influx of travellers. Meanwhile,
accidents rarely happen ; prices tend continually upward ;
and the Cataract Arabs make a little fortune by their sin-
gular monopoly.
The scenery of the First Cataract is like nothing else in
the world — except the scenery of the Second. It is alto-
gether new and strange and beautiful. It is incomprehen-
sible that travellers should have written of it in general
with so little admiration. They seem to have been
impressed by the wildness of the waters, by the quaint
forms of the rocks, by the desolation and grandeur of the
landscape as a whole ; but scarcely at all by its beauty —
which is paramount.
The Nile here widens to a lake. Of the islands, which
it would hardly be an exaggeration to describe as some
hundreds in number, no two are alike. Some are piled up
like the rocks at the Land's End in Cornwall, block upon
block, column upon column, tower upon tower, as if reared
by the hand of man. Some arc green with grass; some
200 THE CATARACTS OF THE NILE
golden with slopes of drifted sand ; some are planted with
rows of blossoming lupins, purple and white. Others are
again mere cairns of loose blocks, with here and there a
perilously balanced top-boulder. On one, a singular up-
right monolith, like a menhir, stands conspicuous, as if
placed there to commemorate a date, or to point the way
to Philae. Another mass rises out of the water squared
and buttressed, in the likeness of a fort. A third, humped
and shining like the wet body of some amphibious beast,
lifts what seems to be a horned head above the surface of
the rapids. All these blocks and boulders and fantastic
rocks are granite ; some red, some purple, some black.
Their forms are rounded by the friction of ages. Those
nearest the brink reflect the sky like mirrors of burnished
steel. Royal ovals and hieroglyphed inscriptions, fresh as
of yesterday's cutting, stand out here and there from those
glittering surfaces with startling distinctness. A few of the
larger islands are crowned with clumps of palms; and one,
the loveliest of any, is completely embowered in gum-trees
and acacias, dom and date-palms, and feathery tamarisks,
all festooned together under a hanging canopy of yellow-
blossomed creepers.
On a brilliant Sunday morning, with a favourable wind,
we entered on this fairy archipelago. Sailing steadily
against the current, we glided away from Assuan, left
Elephantine behind, and found ourselves at once in the
midst of the islands. From this moment every turn of the
tiller disclosed a fresh point of view, and we sat on deck,
spectators of a moving panorama. The diversity of sub-
THE CATARACTS OF THE NILE 201
jects was endless. The combinations of form and colour,
of light and shadow, of foreground and distance, were con-
tinually changing. A boat or a few figures alone were
wanting to complete the picturesqueness of the scene, but
in all those channels and among all those islands, we saw
no sign of any living creature.
The Second or Great Cataract, begins a little way above
Wady Halfeh and extends over a distance of many miles.
It consists, like the First Cataract, of a succession of rocks
and rapids, and is skirted for the first five miles or so by the
sand-clifF ridge, which, as I have said, forms a background
to the ruins just opposite Wady Halfeh. This ridge
terminates abruptly in the famous precipice known as the
Rock of Abusir. Only adventurous travellers bound for
Dongola or Khartum go beyond this point ; and they, for the
most part, take the shorter route across the desert from
Korosko.
It is hard, now that we are actually here, to realize that
this is the end of our journey. The Cataract — an immense
multitude of black and shining islets, among which the
river, divided into hundreds of separate channels, spreads far
and wide for a distance, it is said of more than sixteen
miles, — foams at our feet. Foams, and frets, and falls ;
gushing smooth and strong where its course is free; mur-
muring hoarsely where it is interrupted ; now hurrying ; now
loitering ; here eddying in oily circles ; there lying in still
pools unbroken by a ripple ; everywhere full of life, full of
voices; everywhere shining to the sun. Northwards,
when it winds away towards Abou Simbel, we see
202 THE CATARACTS OF THE NILE
all the fantastic mountains of yesterday on the horizon.
To the east, still bounded by out-liers of the same discon-
nected chain, lies a rolling waste of dark and stony wilder-
ness, trenched with innumerable valleys through which
flow streams of sand. On the western side, the continuity
of the view is interrupted by the ridge which ends with
Abusir. Southward the Libyan desert reaches away in one
vast undulating plain ; tawny, arid, monotonous ; all sun ;
all sand ; lit here and there with arrowy flashes of the Nile.
Farthest of all, pale but distinct, on the outermost rim of
the world, rise two mountain summits, one long, one dome-
like. Our Nubians tell us that they are the mountains of
Dongola. Comparing our position with that of the Third
Cataract as it appears upon the map, we come to the con-
clusion that these ghost-like silhouettes are the summits of
Mount Fogo and Mount Arambo — two apparently parallel
mountains situate on opposite sides of the river about ten
miles below Hannek, and consequently about one hundred
and forty-five miles, as the bird flies, from the spot on
which we are standing.
In this extraordinary panorama, so wild, so weird, so
desolate, there is nothing really beautiful, except the colour.
But the colour is transcendent. Never, even in Egypt,
have I seen anything so tender, so transparent, so harmoni-
ous. I shut my eyes, and it all comes before me. I see
the amber of the sands ; the pink and pearly mountains ;
the Cataract rocks all black and purple and polished ; the
dull grey palms that cluster here and there upon the larger
islands; the vivid verdure of the tamarisks and pomegran-
THE CATARACTS OF THE NILE 203
ates ; the Nile, a greenish brown flecked with yeasty foam ;
over all, the blue and burning sky, permeated with light, and
palpitating with sunshine.
I made no sketch. I felt that it would be ludicrous to at-
tempt it. And I feel now that any endeavour to put the
scene into words is a mere presumptuous effort to describe
the indescribable. Words are useful instruments ; but, like
the etching needle and the burin, they stop short at form.
They cannot translate colour.
If a traveller pressed for time asked me whether he
should or should not go as far as the Second Cataract, I
think I should recommend him to turn back from Abou
Simbel. The trip must cost four days ; and if the wind
should happen to be unfavourable either way, it may cost
six or seven. The forty miles of river that have to be
twice traversed are the dullest on the Nile ; the Cataract is
but an enlarged and barren edition of the Cataract between
Assuan and Philae ; and the great view, as I have said, has
not that kind of beauty which attracts the general tourist.
It has an int^st, however, beyond and apart from that
of beauty. It rouses one's imagination to a sense of the
greatness of the Nile. We look across a world of desert,
and see the river still coming from afar. We have reached
a point at which all that is habitable and familiar comes
abruptly to an end. Not a village, not a bean-field, not a
shaduf, not a sakkieh, is to be seen in the plain below. There
IS no sail on these dangerous waters. There is no moving
creature on these pathless sands. But for the telegraphic
wires stalking ghost-like, across the desert, it would seem
204 THE CATARACTS OF THE NILE
as if we had touched the limit of civilization, and were
standing on the threshold of a land unexplored.
Yet for all this, we feel as if we were at only the begin-
ning of the mighty river. We have journeyed well-nigh a
thousand miles against the stream ; but what is that to the
distance which still lies between us and the Great Lakes ?
And how far beyond the Great Lakes must we seek for
the source that is even yet undiscovered ?
A Thousand Miles Up the Nile (London, 1890).
IN THE ALPS
(, SWITZERLAND)
THfeOPHILE GAUTIER
THE foot of the high mountains that form the chain
of Mount Blanc, clothed with forests and pastures,
revealed hues of delightful intensity and vigour. Imagine an
immense piece of green velvet crumpled into large folds
like the curtain of a theatre with the deep black of its hollows
and the golden glitterings of its lights ; this is a very faint
image for the grandeur of the object, but I know of none
that could better describe the effect.
Scheele's green, mineral green, all those greens that re-
sult from the combinations of Prussian blue and yellow
ochre, or Naples yellow, the mixture of indigo and Indian
yellow, Veronese green and vert prasin could not reproduce
that quality of green that we might properly call mountain
green and which passes from velvety black into the tendcr-
est shades of green. In this play of shades, the firs form
the shadows ; the deciduous trees and the spaces of meadow
or moss, the lights. The undulations and the cleft ravines
of the mountain break these great masses of green, this vig-
orous foreground, this energetic repoussoir^ rendering the
light tones of the zones, (bare of verdue and crowned by
the high lights of the snows,) more vaporous and throwing
them back. In the various more open places, the grass grows
2o6 IN THE ALPS
green in the sun ; and trees resembling little black patches
sown upon this light ground give it the appearance of tufted
material. But when we speak of trees and firs, woods and
forests, do not picture to yourselves anything but vast blots
of dark moss upon the slopes of the mountains : the high-
est trunks there assume the proportion of a blade of grass.
The road turns towards the left, and, gliding between
stones and blocks that have fallen down or drifted into the
valley by means of the winter torrents and avalanches, soon
enters a forest of birch-trees, firs, and larches whose open-
ings allow you to see on the other side the Aiguilles Rouges
and le Brevent, which face Montanvert. The ascent was
gentle enough and the mules climbed it with easy gait ; in
comparison with the road which we scaled the night be-
fore to go to the Pierre pointue^ the route was a true alley
of the Bois de Boulogne. The zigzags of the road
turned at angles sufficiently long not to fatigue either the
rider or his mount. The sunlight played in the foliage of
the forest that we traversed and made a shadow shot
through with rays float over us. Upon the rocks at the
foot of the trees, mosses of emerald green gleamed and
lovely little wild flowers brightly bloomed, while in the
spaces through the branches a bluish mist betrayed the depth
of the abyss, for the little caravan, going along single file
and constantly ascending, had now reached the Caillet
fountain, which is regarded as half-way up the mountain.
This fountain, of excellent water, runs into a wooden
trough. The mules halt there to drink. A cabin is built
near the fountain and they off^er you a glass of water made
IN THE ALPS 207
opalescent with a few drops of kirsch, cognac, beer, and
other refreshments. We regaled our guides with a glass of
brandy, which, notwithstanding their sobriety, they seemed
to prefer to that diamond liquid that sprang from the
rock.
From this point, the road began to grow steeper; the
ascents multiplied without, however, offering any difficulties
to mules or pedestrians. The air became more keen.
The forest grew lighter, the trees stood at greater intervals
from each other and stopped as if out of breath. They
seemed to say to us, " Now, go up alone, we cannot go
any further," The rounded plateau that we mount by
keeping to the right is not desolate and denuded as one
would believe ; a grass, sturdy enough and enamelled with
Alpine flowers, forms its carpet, and when you have gone
beyond it, you perceive the chalet or inn of Montanvert
below the Aiguille de Charmoz.
From this plateau you have a superb view, an astonish-
ing, apocalyptic view, beyond all dreams. At your feet,
between two banks of gigantic peaks, flows motionless, as
if congealed during the tumult of a tempest, that broad
river of crystal which is called the Mer de Glace, and
which lower towards the plain is called the Glacier des
Bois. The Mer de Glace comes from a high altitude ; it
receives many glaciers as a river its tributaries. We will
speak of it presently, but for the moment let us occupy
ourselves with the spectacle that unfolds beneath our eyes.
Opposite the inn of Montanvert, the glacier is half a
league from one bank to the other, perhaps even more, for
208 IN THE ALPS
it is difficult to guage distance in the mountains with ex-
actness ; it is about the width of the Thames, the Neva or
the Guadalquiver towards their mouth. But the slope is
much more abrupt than was ever that of any river. It de-
scends by large waves rounded at their tops, like billows
that never break into foam and whose hollows take a bluish
colour. When the ground that serves as a bed for this
torrent of ice becomes too abrupt, the mass is dislocated
and breaks up into slabs that rest one upon the other and
which resemble those little columns of white marble in the
Turkish cemeteries that are forced to lean to right or left
by their own weight ; crevasses more or less wide and deep
manifest themselves, opening the immense block and re-
vealing the virgin ice in all its purity. The walls of these
crevasses assume magical colours, tints of an azure grotto.
An ideal blue that is neither the blue of the sky nor the
blue of the water, but the blue of ice, an unnamed tone
that is never found on the artist's palette illumines these
splendid clefts and turns sometimes to a green of aqua ma-
rine or mother of pearl by gradations of astonishing del-
icacy. On the other bank, clearly detached by its
sharp escarpment like the spire of a gigantic cathedral, the
high Jiguille du Dru rises with so proud, so elegant, and so
bold a spring. Ascending the glacier, the Aiguille Verte
stands out in front of it, being even higher though the per-
spective makes it appear lower. From the foot of the Aiguille
du Dru^ like a rivulet towards a river, descends the Mont
Blanc glacier. A little further to the right, the Aiguille du
Maine and that of Lechaud show themselves, obelisks of
^(w^;p^,
IN THE ALPS 209
granite which the sunlight tints with reflections of rose and
the snow makes gleam with several touches of silver. It
is difficult to express in words the unexpected outlines, the
strange flashes, the tops cut and indented in the form of
saw-teeth, gable-ends and crosses that are affected by these
inaccessible peaks with almost vertical walls, — often even
sloping outwards and overhanging. Running your eye along
the same bank of the glacier and descending towards the
valley, you see the Aiguille du Bochard^ le Chapeau^ which
is nothing more or less than a rounded mountain, grassy
and enamelled with flowers, not so high as Montanvert,
and the forests which have given to this portion of the Mer
de Glace the name of Glacier des Boisy bordering it with a
line of sombre verdure.
There are in the Mer de Glace two veins that divide it
throughout its length like the currents of two rivers that
never mingle : a black vein and a white vein. The black
one flows by the side of the bank where the Aiguille du Dru
rears itself, and the white one bathes the foot of Mon-
tanvert ; but words when we speak of colour only half de-
scribe shades, and it must not be imagined that this de-
marcation is as clearly defined as we have indicated. It is,
however, very sensible.
On looking towards the upper portion of the glacier, at
the spot where it precipitates itself into the rock passage
which conducts it to the valley like a furiously boiling cas-
cade with wild spurts which some magic power has turned
into ice at its strongest leap, you discover, arranged like an
amphitheatre, the Montagne des Periades^thc Petites Jorasses^
210 IN THE ALPS
the Grandes Jorasses^ and the Jiguille du Geant, covered
with eternal snow, the white diadem of the Alps which the
suns of summer are powerless to melt and which scintillate
with a pure and cold brilliancy in the clear blue of the sky.
At the foot of the Periades, the glacier, as may be seen
from Montanvert, divides into two branches, one of which
ascends towards the east and takes the name of the Glacier
de L'echaud^ while the other takes its course behind the
Jiguilles de Chamouni towards Mont Blanc du Tacul^ and is
called the Glacier du G'eant. A third branch, named the
Glacier du Talifre, spreads out over the slopes of the
Aiguille Verte.
It is in the middle of the Tali/re where lies that oasis of
the glaciers that is called the Jardiuy a kind of basket of
Alpine flowers, which find there a pinch of vegetable earth,
a few rays of sunshine, and a girdle of stones that isolate
them from the neighbouring ice ; but to climb to the "Jar-
din is a long, fatiguing and even dangerous excursion, neces-
sitating a night's sleep at the chalet of Montanvert.
We resumed our journey not without having gathered sev-
eral bunches of rhododendrons of the freshest green and
brightest rose, that opened in the liberty and solitude of the
mountains by means of the pure Alpine breeze. You de-
scend by the same route more rapidly than you ascended.
The mules stepped gaily by the side of their leaders, who
carried the sticks, canes and umbrellas, which had now be-
come useless. We traversed the forest of pines pierced
here and there by the torrents of stones of the avalanches ;
we gained the plain and were soon at Chamouni to go to
IN THE ALPS 211
the source of the Arveiron, which is found at the base of
the Glacier des Bois, the name that is assumed by the Mer
de Glace on arriving in the valley.
This is an excursion that you can make in a carriage.
You follow the bottom of the valley, cross the Arve at the
hamlet of Praz, and after having passed the Hameau des
Bois, where you must alight, you arrive, winding among
masses of rocks in disorder anrf pools of water across which
logs are placed, at the wall of the glacier, which reveals it-
self by its slit and tortured edges, full of cavities and gashes
where the blue-green hatchings colour the transparent
whiteness of the mass.
The white teeth of the glacier stand out clearly against
the sombre green of the forests of Bochard and Montanvert
and are majestically dominated by the Aiguille du Dru^
which shoots its granite obelisk three thousand nine hundred
and six metres into the depths of the sky, and the foreground
is formed by the most prodigious confusion of stones, rocks
and blocks that a painter could wish for giving value to
those vapourous depths. The Arve/ron foams and roars
across this chaos and, after half an hour of frantic disordered
course, loses itself in the Arve.
Lei Vacancesde Lundi (Paris, i8di).
THE VALE OF KASHMIR
{INDIA)
ANDREW WILSON
ALMOST every one longs, and many hope, to see
the beautiful Vale of Kashmir. Probably no re-
gion of the earth is so well known to the eye of imagina-
tion, or so readily suggests the idea of a terrestrial Paradise.
So far from having been disappointed with the reality, or
having experienced any cause for wishing that I had left
Kashmir unvisited, I can most sincerely say that the beau-
tiful reality excels the somewhat vague poetic vision which
has been associated with the name. But Kashmir is rather
a difficult country to get at, especially when you come down
upon it from behind by way of Zanskar and Suru. Ac-
cording to tradition, it was formerly the Garden of Eden ;
and one is very well disposed to accept that theory when
trying to get into it from the north or northwest.
After months of the sterile, almost treeless Tibetan prov-
inces, the contrast was very striking, and I could not bur
revel in the beauty and glory of the vegetation ; but even
to one who had come up upon it from below, the scene
would have been very striking. There was a large and
lively encampment at the foot of the pass, with tents pre-
pared for the Yarkand envoy, and a number of Kashmir
officers and soldiers ; but I pushed on beyond that, and
THE VALE OF KASHMIR 21 3
camped in solitude close to the Sind river, just beneath the
Panjtarne valley, which leads up towards the caves of Am-
bernath, a celebrated place for Hindu pilgrimage. This
place is called Baltal, but it has no human habitations.
Smooth green meadows, carpet-like and embroidered with
flowers, extended to the silvery stream, above which there
was the most varied luxuriance of foliage, the lower moun-
tains being most richly clothed with woods of many and
beautiful colours. It was late autumn, and the trees were
in their greatest variety of colour; but hardly a leaf seemed
to have fallen. The dark green of the pines contrasted
beautifully with the delicate orange of the birches, because
there were intermingling tints of brown and saffron. Great
masses of foliage were succeeded by solitary pines, which
had found a footing high up the precipitous crags.
And all this was combined with peaks and slopes of pure
white snow. Aiguilles of dark rock rose out of beds of
snow, but their faces were powdered with the same ele-
ment. Glaciers and long beds of snow ran down the val-
leys, and the upper vegetation had snow for its bed. The
effect of sunset upon this scene was wonderful ; for the
colours it displayed were both heightened and more harmo-
niously blended. The golden light of eve brought out the
warm tints of the forest ; but the glow of the reddish-brown
precipices, and the rosy light upon the snowy slopes and
peaks, were too soon succeeded by the cold grey of evening.
At first, however, the wondrous scene was still visible in a
quarter-moon's silvery light, in which the Panjtarne valley
was in truth —
214 THE VALE OF KASHMIR
" A wild romantic chasm that slanted
Down the sweet hill athwart a cedarn cover —
A savage place, as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath the waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon lover."
The demon lovers to be met with in that wild valley are
bears, which are in abundance, and a more delightful place
for a hunter to spend a month in could hardly be invented ;
but he would have to depend on his rifle for supplies, or
have them sent up from many miles down the Sind valley.
The remainder of my journey down the latter valley to
the great valley or small plain of Kashmir was delightful.
A good deal of rain fell, but that made one appreciate the
great trees all the more, for the rain was not continuous,
and was mingled with sunshine. At times, during the
season when I saw it, this " inland depth " is " roaring
like the sea ; "
" While trees, dim-seen in frenzied numbers tear
The lingering remnant of their yellow hair ; "
but soon after it is bathed in perfect peace and mellow sun-
light. The air was soft and balmy ; but, at this transfer
from September to October, it was agreeably cool even to
a traveller from the abodes and sources of snow. As we
descended, the pine-forests were confined to the mountain-
slopes } but the lofty deodar began to appear in the valley,
as afterwards the sycamore, the elm, and the horse-chest-
nut. Round the picturesque villages, and even forming
considerable woods, there were fruit-trees — as the walnut,
the chestnut, the peach, the apricot, the apple, and the
THE VALE OF KASHMIR 215
pear. Large quantities of timber (said to be cut recklessly)
was in course of being floated down the river; and where
the path led across it there were curious wooden bridges for
which it was not necessary to dismount. This Sind valley
is about sixty miles long, and varies in breadth from a few
hundred yards to about a mile, except at its base, where it
opens out considerably. It is considered to afford the best
idea of the mingled beauty and grandeur of Kashmir
scenery ; and when I passed through its appearance was
greatly enhanced by the snow, which not only covered the
mountain-tops, but also came down into the forests which
clothed the mountain-sides. The path through it, being
part of the great road from Kashmir to Central Asia, is
kept in tolerable repair, and it is very rarely that the rider
requires to dismount. Anything beyond a walking-pace,
however, is for the most part out of the question. Mont-
gomerie divides the journey from Srinagar to Baltal (where
I camped below the Zoji La) into six marches, making in
all sixty-seven miles; and though two of these marches
may be done in one day, yet if you are to travel easily and
enjoy the scenery, one a day is sufficient. The easiest
double march is from Sonamarg to Gond, and I did it in a
day with apparent ease on a very poor pony ; but the con-
sequence is that I beat my brains in order to recall what
sort of a place Gond was, no distinct recollection of it
having been left on my mind, except of a grove of large
trees and a roaring fire in front of my tent at night.
Sonamarg struck me as a very pleasant place; and I had
there, in the person of a youthful captain from Abbotabad,
2l6 THE VALE OF KASHMIR
the pleasure of meeting the first European I had seen since
leaving Lahaul. We dined together, and I found he had
come up from Srinagar to see Sonamarg, and he spoke with
great enthusiasm of a view he had had, from another part
of Kashmir, of the 26,000 feet mountain Nanga Parbat.
Marg means " meadow," and seems to be applied especially
to elevated meadows; sona stands for "golden": and this
place is a favourite resort in the hot malarious months of
July and August, both for Europeans in Kashmir and for
natives of rank.
At Ganderbahl I was fairly in the great valley of
Kashmir, and encamped under some enormous chtinar or
sycamore trees ; the girth of one was so great that its trunk
kept my little mountain-tent quite sheltered from the furious
blasts. Truly —
" There was a roaring in the wind all night,
The rain fell heavily, and fell in floods,
but that gigantic chunar kept off both wind and rain won-
derfully. Next day a small but convenient and quaint
Kashmir boat took me up to Srinagar ; and it was delight-
ful to glide up the backwaters of the Jhelam, which af-
forded a highway to the capital. It was the commence-
ment and the promise of repose, which I very sadly
needed, and in a beautiful land.
I afterwards went up to Islamabad, Martand, Achibal,
Vernag, the Rozlu valley, and finally went out of Kash-
mir by way of the Manas and Wular Lakes, and the
lower valley of the Jhelam, so that I saw the most
THE VALE OF KASHMIR 21 7
interesting places in the country, and all the varieties
of scenery which it affords. That country has been so
often visited and described, that, with one or two ex-
ceptions, I shall only touch generally upon its charac-
teristics. It doubtless owes some of its charm to the
character of the regions in its neighbourhood. As com-
pared with the burning plains of India, the sterile steppes
of Tibet, and the savage mountains of the Himalaya and
of Afghanistan, it presents an astonishing and beautiful
contrast. After such scenes even a much more common-
place country might have afforded a good deal of the en-
thusiasm which Kashmir has excited in Eastern poetry, and
even in common rumour; but beyond that it has char-
acteristics which give it a distinct place among the most
pleasing regions of the earth. I said to the Maharajah, or
ruling Prince of Kashmir, that the most beautiful countries
I had seen were England, Italy, Japan, and Kashmir; and
though he did not seem to like the remark much, probably
from a fear that the beauty of the land he governed
might make it too much an object of desire, yet there was
no exaggeration in it. Here, at a height of nearly 6,000
feet, in a temperate climate, with abundance of moisture,
and yet protected by lofty mountains from the fierce con-
tinuous rains of the Indian southwest monsoon, we have
the most splendid amphitheatre in the world. A flat oval
valley about sixty miles long, and from forty in breadth, is
surrounded by magnificent mountains, which, during the
greater part of the year, are covered more than half-way
down with snow, and present vast upland beds of pure
2l8 THE VALE OF KASHMIR
white snow. This valley has fine lakes, is intersected
with water-courses, and its land is covered with brilliant
vegetation, including gigantic trees of the richest foliage.
And out of this great central valley there rise innumerable,
long, picturesque mountain-valleys, such as that of the
Sind river, which I have just described ; while above these
there are great pine-forests, green slopes of grass, glaciers,
and snow. Nothing could express the general effect better
than Moore's famous lines on sainted Lebanon —
" Whose head in wintry grandeur towers,
And whitens with eternal sleet ;
While Summer, in a vale of flowers.
Is sleeping rosy at his feet."
The great encircling walls of rock and snow contrast
grandly with the soft beauty of the scene beneath. The
snows have a wonderful effect as we look up to them
through the leafy branches of the immense chunar^ elm, and
poplar trees. They flash gloriously in the morning sun-
light above the pink mist of the valley-plain ; they have a
rosy glow in the evening sunlight ; and when the sunlight
has departed, but ere . darkness shrouds them, they gleam,
afar ofF, with a cold and spectral light, as if they belonged
to a region where man had never trod. The deep black
gorges in the mountains have a mysterious look. The sun
lights up some softer grassy ravine or green slope, and then
displays splintered rocks rising in the wildest confusion.
Often long lines of white clouds lie along the line of
mountain-summits, while at other times every white peak
and precipice-wall is distinctly marked against the deep-
THE VALE OF KASHMIR 219
blue sky. The valley-plain is especially striking in clear
mornings and evenings, vi^here it lies partly in golden sun-
light, partly in the shadow of its great hills.
The green mosaic of the level land is intersected by many
streams, canals or lakes, or beautiful reaches of river which
look like small lakes. The lakes have floating islands com-
posed of vegetation. Besides the immense chunars and
elms, and the long lines of stately poplars, great part of the
plain is a garden filled with fruits and flowers, and there is
almost constant verdure.
" There eternal summer dwells.
And west winds, with musky wing,
About the cedar'd alleys fling
Nard and cassia's balmy smells."
Travel^ Adventure and Sport from Blackwooct i Magazine
(Edinburgh and London), Vol. vi.
THE LAKE OF PITCH
(, TRINIDAD)
CHARLES KINGSLEY
THIS Pitch Lake should be counted among the won-
ders of the world ; for it is, certainly, tolerably big.
It covers ninety-nine acres, and contains millions of tons
of so-called pitch.
Its first discoverers were not bound to see that a pitch
lake of ninety-nine acres was no more wonderful than any
of the little pitch wells — " spues " or " galls," as we should
call them in Hampshire — a yard across ; or any one of the
tiny veins and lumps of pitch which abound in the sur-
rounding forests ; and no less wonderful than if it had covered
ninety-nine thousand acres instead of ninety-nine.
As we neared the shore, we perceived that the beach was
black with pitch ; and the breeze being off the land, the
asphalt smell (not unpleasant) came off to welcome us.
We rowed in, and saw in front of a little row of wooden
houses, a tall mulatto, in blue policeman's dress, gesticulat-
ing and shouting to us. He was the ward policeman, and
I found him (as I did all the coloured police) able and
courteous, shrewd and trusty. These police are excellent
specimens of what can be made of the Negro, or Half-
Negro, if he be but first drilled, and then given a responsi-
bility which calls out his self-respect. He was warning our
THE LAKE OF PITCH 221
crew not to run aground on one or other of the pitch reefs,
which here take the place of rocks. A large one, a
hundred yards off on the left, has been almost all dug
away, and carried to New York or to Paris to make asphalt
pavement.
The boat was run ashore, under his directions, on a spit
of sand between the pitch ; and when she ceased bumping
up and down in the muddy surf, we scrambled out into a
world exactly the hue of its inhabitants — of every shade,
from jet-black to copper-brown. The pebbles on the shore
were pitch. A tide-pool close by was enclosed in pitch : a
four-eyes was swimming about in it, staring up at us ; and
when we hunted him, tried to escape, not by diving, but by
jumping on shore on the pitch, and scrambling off between
our legs. While the policeman, after profoundest courte-
sies, was gone to get a mule-cart to take us up to the lake,
and planks to bridge its water-channels, we took a look
round at this oddest of the corners of the earth.
In front of us was the unit of civilization — the police-
station, wooden on wooden stilts (as all well-built houses
arc here), to ensure a draught of air beneath them. We
were, of course, asked to come and sit down, but preferred
looking around, under our umbrellas ; for the heat was in-
tense. The soil is half pitch, half brown earth, among
which the pitch sweals in and out, as tallow sweals from a
candle. It is always in slow motion under the heat of the
tropic sun : and no wonder if some of the cottages have
sunk right and left in such a treacherous foundation. A
stone or brick house could not stand here : but wood and
222 THE LAKE OF PITCH
palm-thatch are both light and tough enough to be safe, let
the ground give way as it will.
The soil, however, is very rich. The pitch certainly
does not injure vegetation, though plants will not grow ac-
tually in it. The first plants which caught our eyes were
pine-apples ; for which La Brea is famous. The heat of the
soil, as well as of the air, brings them to special perfection.
They grow about anywhere, unprotected by hedge or fence ;
for the Negroes here seem honest enough, at least towards
each other. And at the corner of the house was a bush
worth looking at, for we had heard of it for many a year.
It bore prickly, heart-shaped pods an inch long, filled with
seeds coated with a rich waxy pulp.
This was a famous plant — Bixa, Orellana, Roucou ; and
that pulp was the well-known Arnotta dye of commerce.
In England and Holland, it is used merely, I believe, to
colour cheeses ; but in the Spanish Main, to colour human
beings. As we went onward up the gentle slope (the rise
is one hundred and thirty-eight feet in rather more than a
mile), the ground became more and more full of pitch, and
the vegetation poorer and more rushy, till it resembled on
the whole, that of an English fen. An Ipomoea or two, and
a scarlet-flowered dwarf Heliconia kept up the tropic type
as does a stiff brittle fern about two feet high.
The plateau of pitch now widened out, and the whole
ground looked like an asphalt pavement, half overgrown
with marsh-loving weeds, whose roots feed in the sloppy
water which overlies the pitch. But, as yet, there was no
sign of the lake. The incline, though gentle, shuts off the
THE LAKE OF PITCH 223
view of what is beyond. This last lip of the lake has
surely overflowed, and is overflowing still, though very
slowly. Its furrows all curve downward; and, it is, in
fact, as one of our party said, " a black glacier." The
pitch, expanding under the burning sun of day, must needs
expand most towards the line of least resistance, that is,
down hill ; and when it contracts again under the coolness
of night, it contracts surely from the same cause, more
downhill than it does uphill ; so that each particle never re-
turns to the spot whence it started, but rather drags the
particles above it downward towards itself. At least, so it
seemed to us.
At last we surmounted the last rise, and before us lay the
famous lake — not at the bottom of a depression, as we ex-
pected, but at the top of a rise, whence the ground slopes
away from it on two sides, and rises from it very slightly on
the two others. The black pool glared and glittered in the
sun. A group of islands, some twenty yards wide, were
scattered about the middle of it. Beyond it rose a noble
forest of Moriche fan-palms ; and to the right of them high
wood with giant Mombins and undergrowth of Cocorite —
a paradise on the other side of the Stygian pool.
We walked, with some misgivings, on to the asphalt,
and found it perfectly hard. In a few yards we were
stopped by a channel of clear water, with tiny fish and
water-beetles in it ; and, looking round, saw that the whole
lake was intersected with channels, so unlike anything
which can be seen elsewhere, that it is not easy to describe
them.
224 THE LAKE OF PITCH
Conceive a crowd of mushrooms, of all shapes from ten
to fifty feet across, close together side by side, their tops
being kept at exactly the same level, their rounded rims
squeezed tight against each other; then conceive water
poured on them so as to fill the parting seams, and in the
wet season, during which we visited it, to overflow the
tops somewhat. Thus would each mushroom represent,
tolerably well, one of the innumerable flat asphalt bosses,
which seem to have sprung up each from a separate centre.
In five minutes we had seen, handled, and smelt enough
to satisfy us with this very odd and very nasty vagary of
tropic nature ; and as we did not wish to become faint or
ill, between the sulphuretted hydrogen and the blaze of the
sun reflected off the hot black pitch, we hurried on over the
water- furrows, and through the sedge-beds to the further
shore — to find ourselves in a single step out of an Inferno
into a Paradise.
We looked back at the foul place, and agreed that it is
well for the human mind that the Pitch Lake was still un-
known when Dante wrote that hideous poem of his — the
opprobrium (as I hold) of the Middle Age. For if such
were the dreams of its noblest and purest genius, what must
have been the dreams of the ignoble and impure multitude ?
But had he seen this lake, how easy, how tempting too, it
would have been to him to embody in imagery the surmise
of a certain " Father," and heighten the torments of the
lost being, sinking slowly into that black Bolge beneath the
baking rays of the tropic sun, by the sight of the saved,
walking where we walked, beneath cool fragrant shade,
THE LAKE OF PITCH 225
among the pillars of a temple to which the Parthenon is
mean and small.
Sixty feet and more aloft, the short, smooth columns of
the Moriches towered around us, till, as we looked through
the " pillared shade," the eye was lost in the green abysses
of the forest. Overhead, their great fan-leaves form a
grooved roof, compared with which that of St. Mary Rad-
clifF, or even of King's College, is as clumsy as all man's
works are beside the works of God; and beyond the
Moriche wood, ostrich plumes packed close round madder-
brown stems, formed a wall to our temple, which bore such
tracery, carving, and painting, as would have stricken dumb
with awe and delight him who ornamented the Loggie of
the Vatican.
What might not have been made, with something of
justice and mercy, common sense and humanity, of these
gentle Arawaks and Guaraons. What was made of them,
almost ere Columbus was dead, may be judged from this
one story, taken from Las Casas.
" There was a certain man named Juan Bono, who was
employed by the members of the Andencia of St. Domingo
to go and obtain Indians. He and his men to the number
of fifty or sixty, landed on the Island of Trinidad. Now
the Indians of Trinidad were a mild, loving, credulous race,
the enemies of the Caribs, who ate human flesh. On Juan
Bono's landing, the Indians armed with bows and arrows,
went to meet the Spaniards, and to ask them who they were,
and what they wanted. Juan Bono replied that his men
were good and peaceful people, who had come to live with
226 THE LAKE OF PITCH
the Indians ; upon which, as the commencement of good
fellowship, the natives offered to build houses for the
Spaniards. The Spanish captain expressed a wish to have
one large house built. The accommodating Indians set
about building it. It was to be in the form of a bell and to
be large enough for a hundred persons to live in. On any
great occasion it would hold many more. . . . Upon
a certain day Juan Bono collected the Indians together —
men, women, and children — in the building ' to sec,' as he
told them, 'what was to be done.' ... A horrible
massacre ensued. . . ."
Such was the fate of the poor gentle folk who for un-
known ages had swung their hammocks to the stems of
these Moriches, spinning the skin of the young leaves into
twine, and making sago from the pith, and then wine from
the sap and fruit, while they warned their children not to
touch the nests of the humming-birds, which even till lately
swarmed around the lake. For — so the Indian story ran —
once on a time a tribe of Chaymas built their palm-leaf
ajoupas upon the very spot, where the lake now lies, and
lived a merry life. The sea swarmed with shell-fish and
turtle, and the land with pine-apples ; the springs were
haunted by countless flocks of flamingoes and horned
screamers, pajuis and blue ramiers ; and, above all, by
humming-birds. But the foolish Chaymas were blind to
the mystery and beauty of the humming-birds, and would
not understand how they were no other than the souls of
dead Indians, translated into living jewels ; and so they
killed them in wantonness, and angered " The Good
THE LAKE OF PITCH 227
Spirit." But one morning, when the Guaraons came by,
the Chayma village had sunk deep into the earth, and in its
place had risen this Lake of Pitch. So runs the tale, told
forty years since to Mr. Joseph, author of a clever little
history of Trinidad, by an old half-caste Indian, Senor
Trinidada by name, who was said then to be nigh one hun-
dred years of age. Surely the people among whom such a
myth could spring up, were worthy of a nobler fate.
At Last (London and New York, 1871).
THE LACHINE RAPIDS
( CANADA )
DOUGLAS SLADEN
FROM St. Anne's to Lachine is not such a very far
cry, and it was at Lachine that the great La Salle
had his first seigniory. This Norman founder of Illinois,
who reared on the precipices of Fort St. Louis the white
flag and his great white cross nearly a couple of centuries
before the beginnings of the Metropolis of the West, made
his beginnings at his little seigniory round Fort Remy, on
the Island of Montreal.
The son of a wealthy and powerful burgher of Rouen, he
had been broughr up to become a Jesuit. La Salle was
well fitted for an ecclesiastic, a prince of the Church, a
Richelieu, but not for a Jesuit, whose efFacement of self is
the keystone of the order. To be one step, one stone in
the mighty pyramid of the Order of Jesus was not for him,
a man of mighty individuality like Columbus or Cromwell,
and accordingly his piety, asceticism, vast ambition, and
superhuman courage were lost to the Church and gained to
the State. So says Parkman.
His seigniory and fort — probably the Fort Remy of
which a contemporary plan has come down to us — were
just where the St. Lawrence begins to widen into Lake St.
Louis, abreast of the famous Rapids of Lachine, shot by so
The lacmine rawds 42^
many tourists with blanched cheeks every summer. I say
tourists, for, as I have said before, there is nothing your
true Canadian loves so much as the ofF-chance of being
drowned in a cataract or " splifficated " on a toboggan slide.
It is part of the national education, like the Bora Bora, or
teeth-drawing, of the Australian aborigines. The very
name Lachine breathes a memory of La Salle, for it was so
christened in scorn by his detractors — the way by which La
Salle thinks he is going to get to China. A palisade con-
taining, at any rate, the house of La Salle, a stone mill still
standing, and a stone barrack and ammunition house, now
falling into most picturesque and pitfallish decay — such is
Fort Remy, founded nearly two centuries and a quarter
ago, when England was just beginning to feel the invigorat-
ing effects of a return to the blessings of Stuart rule. This
was in 1667, but La Salle was not destined to remain here
long. In two years' time he had learned seven or eight
Indian languages, and felt himself ready for the ambition
of his life : to find his way to the Vermilion Sea — the Gulf
of California — for a short cut to the wealth of China and
Japan, — an ambition which resolved itself into founding a
province or Colonial Empire for France at the mouth of
the Mississippi, when he discovered later on that the Mis-
sissippi flowed into the Gulf of Mexico and not into the
Gulf of California.
We cannot follow him in his long connection with the
Illinois Indians and Fort St. Louis. We must leave him
gazing from the walls of his seigniory across the broad
bosom of Lake St. Louis at the forests of Beauharnais and
230 THE LACHINE RAPIDS
Chateauguay (destined afterwards to be Canada's Ther-
mopylae) and the sunset, behind which must be a new pas-
sage to the South Seas and the treasures of Cathay and
Cipango — the dream which had .fired the brain of every
discoverer from Columbus and Vasco Nunez downwards.
Nowadays Lachine suggests principally the canal by
which the rapids are avoided, the rapids themselves, and the
superb Canadian Pacific Railway Bridge, which is a link in
the realization of La Salle's vast idea. Hard by, too, the
St. Lawrence opens out into the expanse of Lake St. Louis,
dear to Montreallers in the glowing Canadian summer.
Seen from the bank, the rapids are most disappointing to
people who expect them to look like Niagara. Seen from
the deck of the steamer which runs in connection with the
morning and evening train from Montreal, they make the
blood of the novice creep, though the safety of the trip is
evinced by the fact that it is no longer considered necessary
to take a pilot from the neighbouring Indian village of
Caughnawaga. It is said that, if the steamer is abandoned
to the current, it is impossible for her to strike, the scour
being so strong ; certainly, her engines are slowed ; she
reels about like a drunken man ; right and left you see
fierce green breakers with hissing white fillets threatening
to swamp you at every minute. Every second thud of
these waves upon the sides convinces you that the ship is
aground and about to be dashed to pieces. There seems
absolutely no chance of getting safely out of the boiling
waters, which often rush together like a couple of foun-
tains. Yet, after a few trips, you know that the Captain
THE LACHINE RAPIDS 23 1
is quite justified in sitting in his easy chair and smoking a
cigarette all through it. It is admirably described in brief
by Dawson : " As the steamer enters the long and turbu-
lent rapids of the Sault St. Louis, the river is contracted
and obstructed by islands ; and trap dykes, crossing the
softer limestone rocks, make, by their uneven vi^ear, a very
broken bottom. The fall of the river is also considerable,
and the channel tortuous, all which circumstances com-
bined cause this rapid to be more feared than any of the
others.
" As the steamer enters the rapids the engines are slowed,
retaining a sufficient speed to give steerage way, and, rush-
ing along with the added speed of the swift current, the
boat soon begins to labour among the breakers and eddies.
The passengers grow excited at the apparently narrow es-
capes, as the steamer seems almost to touch rock after rock,
and dips her prow into the eddies, while the turbulent wa-
ters throw their spray over the deck."
On the Cars and Off (London, New York and Mel-
bourne, 1895).
LAKE ROTORUA
(.NEW ZEALAND}
H. R. HAWEIS
THE thermae, or hot baths, of the near future are with-
out doubt the marvellous volcanic springs of Ro~
torua and the Lake Taupo district, in the North Island.
They can now^ be reached from London, via Francisco, in
thirty-three days. They concentrate in a small area all the
varied qualities of the European springs, and other curative
properties of an extraordinary character, which are not pos-
sessed in the same degree by any other known waters. Be-
fore Mr. Froude's Oceana^ and the subsequent destruction
of the famous pink terraces, little attention had been called
to one of the most romantic and amazing spectacles in the
world. The old terraces are indeed gone. The idyllic
villages, the blossoming slopes are a waste of volcanic ashes
and scoriae through which the dauntless vegetation is only
now beginning to struggle. The blue waters are displaced
and muddy, but the disaster of one shock could not rob the
land of its extraordinary mystery and beauty. For a dis-
tance of three hundred miles, south of Lake Taupo and
running north, a volcanic crust, sometimes thin enough to
be trodden through, separates the foot from a seething mass
of sulphur, gas, and boiling water, which around Rotorua
and Waikari finds strange and ample vents, in hot streams,,
clouds of vapour, warm lakes, geysers, occasionally devel*
LAKE ROTORUA 233
oping into appalling volcanic outbursts, which certainly in-
vest this region with a weird terror, but also with an incon-
ceivable charm, as white vapour breaks amidst flowering
bushes, in the midst of true valleys of paradise ; the streams
ripple hot and crystalline over parti-coloured rocks or
through emerald-hued mossy dells ; the warm lakes sleep
embedded in soft, weedy banks, reflecting huge boulders,
half clothed in tropical foliage ; coral-like deposits here and
there of various tints reproduce the famous terraces in
miniature ; and geysers, in odd moments, spout huge vol-
umes of boiling water with an unearthly roar eighty feet
into the air. At Waikari, near Lake Taupo, specimens of
all these wonders are concentrated in a few square miles —
the bubbling white mud pools, like foaming plaster of
Paris, the petrifying springs, into which a boy fell some
time ago, and getting a good silicate coat over him was
taken out months afterwards " as good as ever," so my
guide explained.
" What," I said, " did he not feel even a little poorly ? "
"What's that ? " said the guide, and the joke dawning
on him burst into a tardy roar.
And time would fail me to tell of the dragon's mouth,
and open rock vomiting sulphur and steam ; the lightning
pool, in whose depths for ever flash queer opaline suba-
queous flashes ; the champagne pool, the Prince of Wales's
Feathers, a geyser which can be made to play half an hour
after a few clods of mud have blocked up a little hot
stream; the steam hammer, the fairy bath, the donkey en-
gine, etc.
234 LAKE ROTORUA
At Rotorua we bought blocks of soap and threw them in
to make a certain big geyser spout. The Maoris have still
the monopoly there; you pay toll, cross a rickety bridge
with a Maori girl as guide, and then visit the pools, ter-
races, and boiling fountains. They are not nearly so pic-
turesque as at Waikari, which is a wilderness of blossoming
glens, streams, and wooded vales. But you see the Maori
in his native village.
The volcanic crust is warm to the feet ; the Maori huts
of " toitoi " reeds and boards are all about j outside are
warm pools ; naked boys and girls are swimming in them ;
as we approach they emerge half out of the water; we
throw them threepenny bits. The girls seem most eager
and dive best — one cunning little girl about twelve or
thirteen, I believe, caught her coin each time under water
long before it sank, but throwing up her legs half out of
water dived deep, pretending to fetch it up from the bot-
tom. Sometimes there was a scramble under water for the
coin ; the girls generally got it ; the boys seemed half lazy.
We passed on.
" Here is the brain pot," said our Maori belle ; a hol-
lowed stone. It was heated naturally — the brains cooked
very well there in the old days — not very old days either.
" Here is the bread oven." She drew off the cloth, and
sure enough in a hole in the hot ground there were three
new loaves getting nicely browned. " Here are potatoes,"
and she pointed to a little boiling pool, and the potatoes
were nearly done; and "here is meat," — a tin let into the
earth, that was all, contained a joint baking ; and farther on
LAKE ROTORUA 235
was a very good stew — at least, it being one o'clock, it
smelt well enough. And so there is no fuel and no fire
wanted in this and dozens of other Maori pahs or hamlets.
In the cold nights the Maoris come out of their tents
naked, and sit or even sleep in the hot shallow lakelets and
pools hard by. Anything more uncanny than this walk
through the Rotorua Geyser village can hardly be con-
ceived. The best springs are rented from the Maoris by
the Government, or local hotel-keepers. These are now
increasingly fashionable bathing resorts. The finest bath
specific for rheumatism is the Rachel bath, investing
the body with a soft, satiny texture, and a pearly
complexion ; the iron, sulphur, and especially the oil
bath, from which when you emerge you have but to
shake yourself dry. But the Priest's bath, so called from
the discoverer, Father Mahoney — who cured himself of ob-
stinate rheumatism — is perhaps of all the most miraculous
in its effects, and there are no two opinions about it. Here
take place the most incredible cures of sciatica, gout, lum-
bago, and all sorts of rheumatic affections. It is simply a
question of fact.
The Countess of Glasgow herself told me about the cure
of a certain colonel relative or aide-de-camp of the Gover-
nor, the Earl of Glasgow. The Colonel had for years
been a perfect martyr to rheumatism and gout. He went
to Rotorua with his swollen legs and feet, and came away
wearing tight boots, and " as good as ever," as my guide
would have said. But indeed I heard of scores of similar
cases. Let all victims who can afford it lay it well to
236 LAKE ROTORUA
heart. A pleasure trip, of only thirty-two days, changing
saloon rail carriage but three times, and steamer cabins but
twice, will insure them an almost infallible cure, even when
chronically diseased and no longer young. This is no
"jeujah" affair. I have seen and spoken to the fortunate
beneficiares — you meet them all over New Zealand. Of
course, the fame of the baths is spreading : the region is
only just made accessible by the opening of the railway
from Auckland to Rotorua — a ten hours' run. The Wai-
kari and Taupo baths are very similar, and the situation is
infinitely more romantic, but the Government, on account
of the railway, are pushing the Rotorua baths.
I stole out about half-past ten at night ; it was clear and
frosty. I made my way to a warm lake at the bottom of
the hotel grounds, a little shed and a tallow candle being
the only accommodation provided. Anything more weird
than that starlight bath I never experienced. I stepped in
the deep night from the frosty bank into a temperature of
about 80°.
It was a large shallow lake. I peered into the dark, but
I could not see its extent by the dim starlight ; no, not
even the opposite banks. I swam about until I came to
the margin — a mossy, soft margin. Dark branches of
trees dipped in the water, and I could feel the fallen leaves
floating about. I followed the margin round till the light
in my wood cabin dwindled to a mere spark in the distance,
then I swam out into the middle of the lake. When I was
upright the warm water reached my chin ; beneath my feet
seemed to be fine sand and gravel. Then leaning my head
LAKE ROTORUA 237
back I looked up at the Milky Way, and all the expanse of
the starlit heavens. There was not a sound -, the great suns
and planets hung like golden balls above me in the clear
air. The star dust of planetary systems — whole universes
— stretched away bewilderingly into the unutterable void
of boundless immensity, mapping out here and there the
trackless thoroughfares of God in the midnight skies.
" Dont la poussiere" as Lamartine finely writes in oft-
plagiarised words, " sont les Etoiles qui remontent et tombent
devant Lui."
How long I remained there absorbed in this super-
mundane contemplation I cannot say. I felt myself em-
braced simultaneously by three elements — the warm water,
the darkness, and the starlit air. They wove a threefold
spell about my senses, whilst my intellect seemed detached,
free. Emancipated trom earthly trammels, I seemed
mounting up and up towards the stars. Suddenly I found
myself growing faint, luxuriously faint. My head sank
back, my eyes closed, there was a humming as of some
distant waterfall in my ears. I seemed falling asleep,
pillowed on the warm water, but common sense rescued
me just in time. I was alone in an unknown hot lake in
New Zealand at night, out of reach of human call. I
roused myself with a great effort of will. I had only just
time to make for the bank when I grew quite dizzy. The
keen frosty air brought me unpleasantly to my senses.
My tallow dip was guttering in its socket, and hastily re-
suming my garments, in a somewhat shivering condition, I
retraced the rocky path, then groped my way over the little
238 LAKE ROTORUA
bridge under which rushed the hot stream that fed the
lakelet, and guided only by the dim starlight I regained my
hotel.
I had often looked up at the midnight skies before — at
Charles's Wain and the Pleiades on the Atlantic, at the
Southern Cross on the Pacific, and the resplendent Milky
Way in the Tropics, at Mars and his so-called canals, at
" the opal widths of the moon " from the snowy top of
Mount Cenis, but never, no, never had I studied as-
tronomy under such extraordinary circumstances and with
such peculiar and enchanted environments as on this night
at the Waikari hot springs.
Travel and Talk (London and New York, 1896).
THE BIG TREES OF CALIFORNIA
C UNITED STATES^
C. F. GORDON-CUMMING
AT last we entered the true forest-belt, and anything
more beautiful you cannot conceive. We forgot
our bumps and bruises in sheer delight. Oh the loveliness
of those pines and cedars, living or dead ! For the dead
trees are draped with the most exquisite golden-green
lichen, which hangs in festoons many yards in length, and
is unlike any other moss or lichen I ever saw. I can com-
pare it to nothing but gleams of sunshine in the dark
forest. Then, too, how beautiful are the long arcades of
stately columns, red, yellow, or brown, 200 feet in height,
and straight as an arrow, losing themselves in their own
crown of misty green foliage ; and some standing solitary,
dead and sunbleached, telling of careless fires, which burnt
away their hearts, but could not make them fall !
There are so many different pines and firs, and cedars,
that as yet I can scarcely tell one from another. The
whole air is scented with the breath of the forests — the
aromatic fragrance of resin and of dried cones and pine-
needles baked by the hot sun (how it reminds me of
Scotch firs ! ) ; and the atmosphere is clear and crystalline
— a medium which softens nothing, and reveals the farthest
distance in sharpest detail. Here and there we crossed
deep gulches, where streams (swollen to torrents by the
240 THE BIG TREES OF CALIFORNIA
melting snow on the upper hills) rushed down over great
boulders and prostrate trees and the victims of the winter
gales.
Then we came to quiet glades in the forest, where the
soft lawn-like turf was all jewelled with flowers ; and the
sunlight trickled through the dripping boughs of the
feathery Douglas pines, and the jolly little chip-munks
played hide-and-seek among the great cedars, and chased
one another to the very tops of the tall pitch-pines, which
stand like clusters of dark spires, more than 200 feet in
height. It was altogether lovely ; but I think no one was
sorry when we reached a turn in the road, where we de-
scended from the high forest-belt, and crossing a picturesque
stream — " Big Creek " — by name — we found ourselves in
this comfortable ranch, which takes its name from one of
the pioneers of the valley.
We have spent a long day of delight in the most mag-
nificent forest that it is possible to imagine ; and I have
realized an altogether new sensation, for I have seen the
Big Trees of California, and have walked round about
them, and inside their cavernous hollows, and have done
homage as beseems a most reverent tree-worshipper. They
are wonderful — they are stupendous ! But as to beauty —
no. They shall never tempt me to swerve from my
allegiance to my true tree-love — the glorious Deodara forest
of the Himalayas.
If size alone were to be considered, undoubtedly the
Sequoia stands preeminent, for-to-day we have seen several
trees at least three times as large as the biggest Deodara in
THE BIG TREES OF CALIFORNIA.
THE BIG TREES OF CALIFORNIA 24!
the cedar shades of Kunai ; but for symmetry, and grace,
and exquisitely harmonious lines, the " God-given " cedar
of Himala stands alone, with its wide spreading, twisted
arms, and velvety layers of foliage studded with pale-green
cones, — its great red stem supporting a pyramid of green,
far more majestic than the diminutive crown of the Big
Trees. So at first it was hard to realize that the California
cedars are altogether justified in concentrating all their
growing power in one steady upward direction, so intent on
reaching heaven that they could not afford to throw out
one kindly bough to right or left. They remind me of
certain rigidly good Pharisees, devoid of all loving sym-
pathies with their fellows, with no outstretched arms of
kindly charity — only intent on regulating their own lives
by strictest unvarying rule.
Great Towers of Babel they seem to me, straining up-
ward towards the heaven which they will never reach.
There is nothing lovable about a Sequoia. It is so
gigantic that I feel overawed by it, but all the time I am
conscious that I am comparing it with the odd Dutch trees
in a Noah's Ark, with a small tuft of foliage on the top of
a large red stem, all out of proportion. And another un-
pleasant simile forces itself on my mind — namely, a tall
penguin, or one of the wingless birds of New Zealand, with
feeble little flaps in place of wings, altogether dispropor-
tioned to their bodies.
But this is merely an aside — lest you should suppose that
each new land I visit wins my affections from earlier loves.
The Deodara forests must ever keep their place in my in-
242 THE BIG TREES OF CALIFORNIA
nermost heart : no sunlight can ever be so lovely as that
which plays among their boughs — no sky so blue — no ice-
peaks so glittering as those which there cleave the heaven ;
and I am sure that these poor wretched-looking Digger
Indians can never have the same interest for me as the
wild Himalayan highlanders — the Paharis — who assemble
at the little temples of carved cedar-wood in the Great
Forest Sanctuary, to offer their strange sacrifices, and dance
in mystic sunwise procession.
Having said this much, I may now sing the praises of a
newly found delight, for in truth these forests of the
Sierras have a charm of their own, which cannot be sur-
passed, in the amazing variety of beautiful pines, firs, and
cedars of which they are composed. The white fir, the
Douglas spruce, sugar-pine, and pitch-pine are the most
abundant, and are scattered singly or in singularly pictur-
esque groups over all the mountains hereabouts.
But the Big Trees are only found in certain favoured spots
— sheltered places watered by snow-fed streams, at an average
of from 5,000 to 7,000 feet above the sea. Eight distinct
groves have been discovered, all growing in rich, deep,
vegetable mould, on a foundation of powdered granite.
Broad gaps lie between the principal groves, and it is ob-
served that these invariably lie in the track of the great ice-
rivers, where the accumulation of powdered rock and gravel
formed the earliest commencement of the soil, which by
slow degrees became rich, and deep, and fertile. There is
even reason to believe that these groves are pre-Adamite.
A very average tree (only twenty-three feet in diameter)
THE BIG TREES OF CALIFORNIA 243
having been felled, its annual rings were counted by three
different persons, whose calculations varied from 2,125 to
2,137; and this tree was by no means very aged-looking —
probably not half the age of some of its big relations, one
of which (on King's river) is forty-four feet in diameter.
Then, again, some of the largest of these trees are lying
prostrate on the ground ; and in the ditches formed by their
crash, trees have grown up of such a size, and in such a
position, as to prove that the fallen giants have lain there
for centuries — a thousand years or more; and although
partially embedded in the earth, and surrounded by damp
forest, their almost imperishable timber is as sound as if
newly felled. So it appears that a Sequoia may lie on
damp earth for untold ages without showing any symptom
of decay. Yet in the southern groves huge prostrate trees
are found quite rotten, apparently proving that they must
have lain there for an incalculable period.
Of the eight groves aforesaid, the most northerly is
Calaveras, and the most southerly is on the south fork of
the Tule river. The others are the Stanislaus, the Merced
and Crane Flat, the Mariposa, the Fresno, the King's and
Kaweah rivers, and the north fork of the Tule river. It is
worthy of note that the more northerly groves are found at
the lowest level, Calaveras being only 4,759 feet above the
sea, while the Tule and Kaweah belts range over the
Sierras at about 7,000 feet.
The number of Sequoias in the northern groves is
reckoned to be as follows : Calaveras, ninety trees upwards
of fifteen feet in diameter; Stanislaus, or South Calaveras
244 THE BIG TREES OF CALIFORNIA
grove, distant six miles from North Calaveras, contains
1,380 trees over one foot in diameter (many of them being
over thirty feet in diameter). Mariposa has its 600
Sequoias ; and the beautiful Fresno grove, some miles from
Mariposa, has 1,200. Merced has fifty, and Tuolumne
thirty. The southern belts have not yet been fully ex-
^ plored, but are apparently the most extensive.
The Mariposa grove, where we have been to-day, is the
only one which has been reserved by Government as a
park for the nation. It lies five miles from here. I should
rather say there are two groves. The lower grove lies in a
sheltered valley between two mountain-spurs ; the upper
grove, as its name implies, occupies a higher level, 6,500
feet above the sea.
We breakfasted very early, and by 6 a. m. were in the
saddle. Capital, sure-footed ponies were provided for all
who chose to ride. Some of the gentlemen preferred walk-
ing. From this house we had to ascend about 2,500 feet.
As we gradually worked uphill through the coniferous
belts, the trees seemed gradually to increase in size, so that
the eye got accustomed by degrees ; and when at length we
actually reached the Big-Tree grove we scarcely realized
that we were in the presence of the race of giants. Only
when we occasionally halted at the base of a colossal pillar,
somewhere about eighty feet in circumference, and about
250 in height, and compared it with its neighbours, and,
above all, with ourselves — poor, insignificant pigmies —
could we bring home to our minds a §?nse of \%^ gigantic
proportions.
THE BIG TREES OF CALIFORNIA 245
With all the reverence due to antiquity, we gazed on
these Methuselahs of the forest, to whom a few centuries
more or less in the record of their long lives are a trifle
scarcely worth mentioning. But our admiration was more
freely bestowed on the rising generation, the beautiful young
trees, only about five or six hundred years of age, and
averaging thirty feet in circumference ; while still younger
trees, the mere children of about a hundred years old, still
retain the graceful habits of early youth, and are very
elegant in their growth — though, of course, none but mere
babies bear the slightest resemblance to the tree as we
know it on English lawns.
It really is heartbreaking to see the havoc that has been
done by careless fires. Very few of the older trees have
escaped scathless. Most of this damage has been done by
Indians, who burn the scrub to scare the game, and the fire
spreads to the trees, and there smoulders unheeded for
weeks, till happily some chance extinguishes it. Many
lords of the forest have thus been burnt out, and have at
last fallen, and lie on the ground partly embedded, forming
great tunnels, hollow from end to end, so that in several
cases two horsemen can ride abreast inside the tree from
(what was once) its base to its summit.
We halted at the base of the Grizzly Giant, which well
deserves its name ; for it measures ninety-three feet in cir-
cumference, and looks so battered and weather-worn that it
probably is about the most venerable tree in the forest. It
is one of the most picturesque Sequoias I have seen, just
because it has broken through all the rules of symmetry, so
246 THE BIQ TREES OF CALIFORNIA
rigidly observed by its well conditioned, well-grown breth-
ren ; and instead of being a vast cinnamon-coloured col-
umn, with small boughs near the summit, it has taken a
line of its own, and thrown out several great branches, each
about six feet in diameter — in other words, about as large
as a fine old English beech-tree !
This poor old tree has a great hollow burnt in it (I think
the Indians must have used it as a kitchen), and our half
dozen ponies and mules were stabled in the hollow — a most
picturesque group. It seems strange to see trees thus
scorched and charred, with their insides clean burnt out,
yet, on looking far, far overhead, to perceive them crowned
with fresh blue-green, as if nothing ailed them, so great is
their vitality. Benjamin Taylor says of such a one, " It
did not know that it ought to be dead. The tides of life
flowed so mightily up that majestic column ! "
The Indians say that all other trees grow, but that the
Big Trees are the special creation of the Great Spirit. So
here too, you see, we have, not tree-worship, but something
of the reverence accorded to the cedar in all lands. The
Hebrew poet sang of " the trees of the Lord, even the
cedars of Lebanon which He hath planted." And the Hill
tribes of Northern India build a rudely carved temple be-
neath each specially magnificent clump of Deodar, to mark
that they are " God's trees " ; while in the sacred Sanskrit
poems they are called Deva dara or Deva daru, meaning
the gift, the spouse, the word of God, but in any case, de-
noting the sanctity of the tree.
Whether these Californian Indians had any similar title
THE BIG TREES OF CALIFORNIA 247
for their Big Trees, I have failed to learn ; but the name
by which they are known to the civilized world is that of
Sequoyah, a half-caste Cherokee Indian, who distinguished
himself by inventing an alphabet and a written language for
his tribe. It w^as a most ingenious alphabet, consisting of
eighty-six characters, each representing a syllable, and was
so well adapted to its purpose that it was extensively used
by the Indians before the white man had ever heard of it.
Afterwards it was adopted by the missionaries, who started
a printing-press, with types of this character, and issued a
newspaper for the Cherokee tribe, by whom this singular
alphabet is still used.
When the learned botanist, Endlicher, had to find a suit-
able name for the lovely redwood cedars, he did honour to
Sequoyah, by linking his memory forever with that of the
evergreen forests of the Coast Range. And when after-
wards these Big Trees of the same race were discovered on
the Sierras, they of course were included under the same
family name.
Granite Crags (Edinburgh and London, 1884).
GERSOPPA FALLS
( INDIA )
W. M. YOOL
THESE, the most famous falls in India, are situated on
the Siruvatti (or Sharavat'i) river, which at that
part of its course forms the boundary between the north-
west corner of the native state of Mysore and the Bombay
Presidency. The source of the river is in Mysore, half-
way up Koda Chadri, a hill about five thousand feet high,
near the famous old town of Nuggur, once the seat of the
Rajahs of Mysore, where are still to be seen the ruins of an
old fort and palace, and the walls of the town, eight miles
in circumference.
The natives have a legend that the god Rama shot an
arrow from his bow on to Koda Chadri, and that the river
sprang from the spot where the arrow fell, and hence the
name Siruvatti or " arrow-born." From its source the river
flows north for nearly thirty miles through the heart of the
Western Ghauts, and then turns west and flows down
through the jungles of North Canara to the Indian Ocean
— another thirty miles. Shortly after taking the bend west-
wards there comes the fall, which, on account of its height,
is worthy of being reckoned amongst the great waterfalls of
the world. Here, at one leap, the river falls eight hundred
jmd thirty feet ; and as, at the brink, it is about four hundred
liithalHli II
(JERSOPPA FALLS.
GERSOPPA FALLS 249
yards wide, there are few, if any, falls in the world to
match it.
During the dry weather the river comes over in four
separate falls, but in the height of the monsoon these be-
come one, and as at that time the water is nearly thirty feet
deep, the sight must be truly one of the world's wonders.
It has been calculated that in flood-time more horse-power
is developed by the Gersoppa Falls than by Niagara. This
of course is from the much greater height of Gersoppa, eight
hundred and thirty feet against about one hundred and sixty
feet of Niagara, although the Niagara Falls are much wider
and vaster in volume. The Kaieteur Falls of the Esse-
quibo in British Guiana are seven hundred and forty-one
feet sheer and eighty-eight more of sloping cataract, but the
river there is only one hundred yards wide. At the Victoria
Falls, the Zambesi, one thousand yards wide, falls into an
abyss four hundred feet deep.
My friend and I visited the falls in the end of September,
about a month after the close of the monsoon, when there
were four falls with plenty of water in them. The dry
weather is the best for the sight-seer, as, during the mon-
soon, the rain is so heavy and continuous that there would
not be much pleasure in going there, although doubtless the
sight would be grander and more awe-inspiring. The
drainage area above the falls is sfven hundred and fifty
square miles, and the average yearly rainfall over this tract
is two hundred and twenty inches, nearly the whole of
which falls in the three monsoon months, June, July, Au-
gust ; so if can be imagined what an enormous body of
250 GERSOPPA FALLS
water comes down the river in these months. There is a
bungalow for the use of visitors on the Bombay side of the
river, about a hundred yards away from the falls, built on
the very brink of the precipice overhanging the gorge
through which the river flows after taking the leap. So
close to the edge is it that one could jump from the veranda
sheer into the bed of the river nearly a thousand feet below.
The four falls are called The Rajah^ The Roarer^ The
Rocket^ and La Dame Blanche. The Rajah and Roarer fall
into a horseshoe-shaped cavern, while the Rocket and La
Dame Blanche come over where the precipice is at right
angles to the flow of the river, and are very beautiful falls.
The Rajah comes over with a rush, shoots clear out from
the rock, and falls one unbroken column of water the
whole eight hundred and thirty feet. The Roarer comes
rushing at an angle of sixty degrees down a huge furrow in
the rock for one hundred and fifty feet, making a tremen-
dous noise, then shoots right out into the middle of the
horseshoe, and mingles its waters with those of the Rajah
about half-way down. The Rocket falls about two hundred
feet in sheer descent on to a huge knob of rock, where it is
dashed into spray, which falls in beautiful smoky rings,
supposed to resemble the rings formed by the bursting of
rockets. La Dame Blanche^ which my friend and I thought
the most beautiful, resembles a snow-white muslin veil fall-
ing in graceful folds, and clothing the black precipice from
head to foot.
From the bungalow a fine view is got of the Rocket and
La Dame Blanche^ and when the setting sun lights up these
GERSOPPA FALLS 25 1
falls and forms numerous rainbows in the spray, it makes
an indescribably beautiful scene. Here one is alone with
Nature, not a house or patch of cultivation anywhere. In
front is the river, and all around are mountains and prime-
val forests, while the ceaseless roar of the waterfall adds a
grandeur and a solemnity not easily described.
Near where theRaJah goes over is a projecting rock
called the Rajah's Rock, so named because one of the Ra-
jahs of Nuggur tried to build a small pagoda on it, but be-
fore being finished, it was washed away. The cutting in
the rock for the foundation is still visible. To any one
who has a good head, a fine view of the horseshoe cavern
can be had from this rock. The plan is to lie down on
your stomach, crawl to the edge, and look over, when you
can see straight down into the pool where the waters are
boiling and seething nearly a thousand feet below. I took
a few large stones to the edge and dropped them over, but
they were lost to view long before they reached the bottom.
It was quite an appreciable time after my losing sight of
them before I observed the faint splash they made near the
edge of the pool.
In order to get to the foot of the falls it is necessary to
cross the river to the Mysore side, as there is no possibility
of getting down to the Bombay side. About half a mile
above the falls there is a canoe, dug out of the trunk of a
tree, which belongs to the native who looks after the bun-
galow, and ferries people across. A path has been made to
enable visitors to get to the foot of the falls, and many fine
views of all four are got while descending. The first half
252 GERSOPPA FALLS
of the way down is fairly easy, but after that the track is a
succession of steps down great boulders and across slabs of
rock, rendered as slippery as ice by the constant spray.
Ere my friend and I reached the bottom we were soaking
wet, and realized when too late that we should have left
the greater part of our clothes behind us. By going to the
bottom a much better idea of the immense height of the
falls is got, and the climb up again helps still more to make
one realize it. From the bungalow the largest rocks in the
bed of the river looked like sheep ; but we found them to
be huge boulders, ten and twelve feet high and about
twenty feet across.
The falls seem to have become known to Europeans
about 1840, but were very seldom visited in those days.
Even now the number of visitors is small, as the nearest
railway is eighty miles ofF, and there is no way of procur-
ing supplies with the exception of a little milk and a
chicken to be had from the above-mentioned native.
For a good many years there was great uncertainty about
the height of the falls, but the question was finally set at
rest by two naval lieutenants who plumbed them in 1857.
The modus operandi was as follows : Their ship being off
the coast near the mouth of the river, they got a cable
transported to the falls, and stretched it across the horse-
shoe — a distance of seventy-four yards. Having seen that
the cable was properly secured at both ends, they got a cage
fixed on, and one of them got into it and was hauled out
until he was in the centre. From the cage he let down a
sounding line with a buoy attached to the end of it, and
GERSOPPA FALLS 253
found the depth to the surface of the water to be eight hun-
dred and thirty feet. After satisfactorily accomplishing
this feat, they proceeded to the foot of the falls, and con-
structed a raft so as to plumb the pools, which they did,
and found the greatest depth to be one hundred and thirty-
two feet. This was done near the end of the dry weather,
when there was very little water in the river, and they were
able to temporarily divert the Rajah and Roarer into the
Rocket^ without doing which it would have been impossible
to plumb the horseshoe pool — the deepest one — satisfactorily.
About a mile from the bungalow is a hill called Nishani
Goodda or Cairn Hill, from the top of which a magnificent
view o\ the surrounding country is got. To the east lie
the table-lands of the Deccan and Mysore, the flat expanse
broken here and there by an occasional hill. North and
south stretches the chain of the Ghauts, rising peak after
peak as far as the eye can see (Koda Chadri, where the
Siruvatti rises, being very conspicuous) ; while to the west
one looks down on the lowlands of jungle-covered Canara,
with glimpses of the river here and there, and beyond them
gleams the Indian Ocean.
The bungalow book in which visitors inscribe their
names is very interesting reading. The records go back to
1840, and many travellers have written a record of what
they did when there; while a few, inspired by the scene,
have expressed their feelings in poetry, some of it well
worth copying and preserving by any one who has seen the
falls.
Chambers' Journa I (London, 1896).
ETNA
i SICILY)
ALEXANDRE DUMAS
THE word Etna, according to the savants, is a Phoe-
nician word meaning the mouth of the furnace. The
Phoenician language, as you see, was of the order of that
one spoken of by Covielle to the Bourgeois Gent'tlhomme,
which expressed many things in a few words. Many poets
of antiquity pretend that it was the spot where Deucalion
and Pyrrha took refuge during the flood. Upon this score,
Signor Gemellaro, who was born at Nicolosi, may certainly
claim the honour of having descended in a direct line from
one of the first stones which they threw behind them.
That would leave, as you see, the Montmorencys, the
Rohans, and the Noailles, far behind.
Homer speaks of Etna, but he does not designate it a
volcano. Pindar calls it one of the pillars of the sky.
Thucydides mentions three great explosions, from the
epoch of the arrival of the Grecian colonies up to his own
lifetime. Finally, there were two eruptions in the time of
Denys ; then they followed so rapidly that only the most
violent ones have been counted. '
• The principal eruptions of Etna took place in the year 662, b. c, and
in A. D. 225, 420, 8i2, 1 169, 1285, 1329, 1333, 1408, 1444, 1446, 1447,
1536, 1603, 1607, 1610, 1614, 1619, 1634, 1669, 1682, 1688, 1689, 1702,
1766, and 1781.
ETNA ^55
Since the eruption of 1781, Etna has had some little de-
sire to overthrow Sicily j but, as these caprices have not
had serious results, Etna may be is permitted to stand upon
what it has accomplished — it is unique in its self-respect —
and to maintain its eminence as a volcano.
Of all these eruptions, one of the most terrible was that
of 1669. ^s ^^^ eruption of 1669 started from Monte
Rosso, and as Monte Rosso is only half a mile to the left
of Nicolosi, we took our way, Jadin and I, to visit the
crater, after having promised Signor Gemellaro to come to
dinner with him.
It must be understood beforehand that Etna regards
Itself too far above ordinary volcanos to proceed in their
fashion : Vesuvius, Stromboli, and even Hekla pour the
lava over their craters, just as wine spills over a too-full
glass -, Etna does not give itself this trouble. Its crater is
only a crater for show, which is content to play cup and
ball with incandescent rocks large as ordinary houses,
which one follows in their aerial ascension as one would
follow a bomb issuing from a mortar ; but, during this time
the force of the eruption is really felt elsewhere. In re-
ality, when Etna is at work, it throws up very simply upon
its shoulders, at one place or another, a kind of boil about
the size of Montmartre ; then this boil breaks, and out of
it streams a river of lava which follows the slope, descends,
burning, or overturning everything that it finds before it,
and ends by extinguishing itself in the sea. This method
of procedure is the cause of Etna's being covered with a
number of little craters which are formed like immense
256 ' ETNA
hay-mows ; each of these secondary volcanos has its date
and its own name, and all have occasioned in their time,
more or less noise and more or less ravage.
We got astride of our mounts and started on our way
upon a night that seemed to us of terrible darkness as we
issued from a well-lighted room ; but, by degrees, we be-
gan to distinguish the landscape, thanks to the light of the
myriads of stars that sprinkled the sky. It seemed from
the way in which our mules sank beneath us that we were
crossing sand. Soon we entered the second region, or the
forest region, that is if the few scattered, poor, and crooked
trees merit the name of forest. We marched about two
hours, confidently following the road our guide took us, or
rather our mules, a road which, moreover, to judge by the
eternal declivities and ascents, seemed terribly uneven.
Already, we realized the wisdom of Signor Gemellaro's
provisions against the cold, and we wrapped ourselves in
our hooded great-coats a full hour before we arrived at a
kind of roofless hovel where our mules stopped of them-
selves. We were at the Casa del Bosco or della Neve,, that
is to say, the Forest or the SnoWy names which it merits in
either summer or winter. Our guide told us this was our
halting-place. Upon his invitation, we alighted and en-
tered. We were half-way on the road to the Casa
Inglese.
During our halt the sky was enriched by a crescent,
which, although slender, gave us a little light. We con-
tinued to march a quarter of an hour longer between trees
which became scarcer every twenty feet and finally disap-
ETNA 457
peared altogether. We were about to enter the third
region of Etna, and we knew from the steps of the mules
when they were passing over lava, crossing ashes, or when
they trampled a kind of moss, the only vegetation that
creeps up to this point. As for our eyes, they were of very
little use, the sheen appearing to us more or less coloured,
and that was all, for we could not distinguish a single de-
tail in the midst of this darkness.
However, in proportion as we ascended, the cold became
more intense, and, notwithstanding our cloaks, we were
freezing. This change of temperature had checked con-
versation, and each of us, occupied in trying to keep him-
self warm, advanced in silence. I led the way, and if I
could not see the ground on which we advanced, I could
distinguish perfectly on our right the gigantic escarpments
and the immense peaks, that reared themselves like giants,
and whose black silhouettes stood out boldly upon the deep
blue of the sky. The further we advanced, the stranger
and more fantastic shapes did these apparitions assume ;
we well understood that Nature had not originally made
these mountains as they are and that it was a long con-
test that had ravaged them. We were upon the battle-
field of the Titans ; we clambered over Pelion piled upon
Ossa.
All this was terrible, sombre, and majestic ; I saw and I
felt thoroughly the poetry of this nocturnal trip, and mean-
while I was so cold that I had not the courage to exchange
a word with Jadin to ask him if all these visions were not
the result of the weakness that I experienced, and if I were
258 ETNA
not dreaming. From time to time strange and unfamiliar
noises, that did not resemble in the slightest degree any
noises that one is accustomed to hear, started from the
bowels of the earth, and seemed to moan and waii like a
living being. These noises had something so unexpectedly
lugubrious and solemn about them that they made your
blood run cold. . . . We walked about three-quarters
of an hour upon the steep and rough road, then we found
ourselves upon a slightly inclined slope where every now
and then we crossed large patches of snow and in which I
was plunged up to my knees, and these finally became con-
tinuous. At length the dark vault of the sky began to pale
and a feeble twilight illumined the ground upon which we
walked, bringing with it air even more icy than we had
heretofore breathed. In this wan and uncertain light we
perceived before us something resembling a house ; we ap-
proached it, Jadin trotting upon his mule, and I coming as
fast as possible. The guide pushed open the door and we
found ourselves in the Casa Inglese, built at the foot of the
cone, for the great relief of travellers.
It was half-past three o'clock in the morning ; our guide
reminded us that we had still three-quarters of an hour's
climb at least, and, if we wished to reach the top of the
cone before sunrise, we had not a moment to lose.
We left the Casa Inglese. We began to distinguish ob-
jects : all around us extended a vast field of snow, in the
centre of which, making an angle of about forty-five de-
grees, the cone of Etna rose. Above us all was in dark-
ness ; towards the east only a light tint of opal coloured the
ETNA 259
sky on which the mountains of Calabria were vigorously
outlined.
At a hundred feet from the Casa Ingle se we en-
countered the first waves of the lava plateau whose black
hue did not accord with the snow, in the midst of which it
rose like a sombre island. We had to mount these solid
waves, jumping from one to another, as I had done at
Chamouni and the Mer de Glace, with this difference, that
the sharp edges tore the leather of our shoes and cut our
feet. This passage, which lasted a quarter of an hour, was
one of the most trying of the route.
We were now about a third of the way up, and we had
only taken about half an hour to ascend four hundred feet ;
the east brightened more and more ; the fear of not arriving
at the summit of the cone in time to see the sunrise lent us
courage, and we started again with new enthusiasm, with-
out pausing to look at the immense horizon which widened
beneath our feet at each step; but the further we advanced,
the more the difficulties increased ; at each step the slope
became more abrupt, the earth more friable, and the air
rarer. Soon, on our right, we began to hear subterranean
roarings that attracted our attention ; our guide walked in
front of us and led us to a fissure from which came a great
noise and a thick sulphurous smoke blown out by an in-
terior current of air. Approaching the edges of this cleft,
we saw at an unfathomable depth a bottom of incandescent
and red liquid ; and when we stamped our feet, the ground
resounded in the distance like a drum. Happily it was
perfectly calm, for if the wind had blown this smoke over
26o ETNA
to our side, we should have been asphyxiated, for it is
charged with a terrible fumes of sulphur.
We found ourselves opposite the crater, — an immense
well, eight miles in circumference and 900 feet deep ; the
walls of this excavation were covered with scarified matter
of sulphur and alum from top to bottom ; in the bottom as
far as we could see at the distance from where we stood,
there was some matter in eruption, and from the abyss there
ascended a tenuous and tortuous smoke, resembling a gigantic
serpent standing on his tail. The edges of the crater were
cut out irregularly at a greater or less height. We were at
one of the highest points.
Our guide permitted us to look at this sight for a mo-
ment, holding us back, however, every now and then by
our clothing when we approached too near the precipice,
for the rock is so friable that it could easily give way be-
neath our feet, and we should repeat the joke of Empedocles ;
then he asked us to remove ourselves about twenty feet
from the crater to avoid all accidents, and to look around
us.
The east, whose opal tints we had noticed when leaving
the Casa Inglese^ had changed to tender rose, and was now in-
undated with the flames of the sun whose disc we began to
perceive above the mountains of Calabria. Upon the sides
of these mountains of a dark and uniform blue, the towns
and villages stood out like little white points. The strait
of Messina seemed a simple river, while to the right and
left we saw the sea like an immense mirror. To the left,
this mirror was spotted with several black dots : these black
ETNA 261
dots were the islands of the Lipariote archipelago. From
time to time one of these islands glimmered like an inter-
mittent light-house ; this was Stromboli, throwing out
flames. In the west, everything was in darkness. The
shadow of Etna cast itself over all Sicily.
For three-quarters of an hour the spectacle did nothing
but gain in magnificence. I have seen the sun rise on
Rigi and the Faulhorn, those two Titans of Switzerland :
nothing^ is comparable to the view on Etna's summit i
Calabria from Pizzo to Cape dell Armi, the pass fron^
Scylla to Reggio, the Tyrrhenian Sea, the Ionian Sea and
the i^olian Islands that seem within reach of your hand i
to the right, Malta floating on the horizon like a light
mist ; around us the whole of Sicily, seen from a bird's-eye
view with its shores denticulated with capes, promontories,
harbours, creeks and roads ; its fifteen cities and three hun-
dred villages ; its mountains which seem like hills ; its
valleys which we know are furrowed with ploughs; its
rivers which seem threads of silver, as in autumn they fall
from the sky to the grasses of the meadows ; and, finally,
the immense roaring crater, full of flames and smoke, over-
head Heaven and at its feet Hell : such a spectacle, made
us forget fatigue, danger, and suff^ering. I admired it all
without reservation, with my eyes and my soul. Never
had God seemed so near and, consequently, so great.
We remained there an hour, dominating all the old
world of Homer, Virgil, Ovid, and Theocritus, without
the idea of touching a pencil occurring to Jadin or myself,
until it seemed to us that this picture had entered deeply
262 ETNA
into our hearts and remained graven there without the aid
of ink or sketch. Then we threw a last glance over this
horizon of three hundred leagues, a sight seen once in a life-
time, and we began our descent.
Le Speronare : Impressions de Voyage (Paris, 1836.)
PIKE'S PEAK AND THE GARDEN OF THE GODS
( UNITED STATES}
IZA DUFFUS HARDY
COLORADO SPRINGS— so called because the
springs are at Manitou, five miles ofF, is a prairie
town on a plateau six thousand feet high, above which
Pike's Peak stands sentinel, lifting his snow-capped head
fourteen thousand feet into the clear depths of azure
light, in which no fleck of cloud floats from morn to night
and night to morn again. It is April, and not a drop of
rain has fallen since the previous August. Mid-April, and
not a leaf upon a tree. Not a flower or a bird seems to
flourish here. No spring-blossom scents the keen fresh life-
giving air; no warbler soars high up into the stainless sap-
phire sky. The leafless cottonwood trees stand out white
in the flood of sunlight like trees of silver, their delicate
bare branches forming a shining tangle of silvery network
against that intense blue background.
The place all looks bleak and barren to us ; the wild
grandeur of the mountains is unrelieved by the rich shadows
of the pine forests or the sunny green glints of meadows
that soften Alpine scenery. No flower gardens, no smiling
valleys, no velvet turf, no fragrant orchards, no luxuriant
hedge rows ; only the lonely mountain range, the crowning
height of Pike's Peak stern and solitary in his icy exaltation,
264 PIKE'S PEAK AND THE GARDEN OF THE GODS
and the dead level of the prairie, stretching away eastward
for hundreds and hundreds of miles, declining always at a
gradual and imperceptible angle till it slopes down to the
very banks of the great Mississippi, over a thousand
miles away.
But, although the spot does not seem altogether a Para-
dise to us, it is a veritable Eden for consumptive invalids.
Here they come to find again the lost angel of Health, and
seldom seek again, unless they come too late. People live
here who can live nowhere else. They long to return to
their far-ofF homes ; but home to them means death. They
must live in this Colorado air, or die. There is a snake in
the grass of this Eden, where they have drunk the elixir of
a new life, and its name is Nostalgia. They long — some
of them — for the snowy winters and flowery summers of
their eastern homes. Others settle happily and con-
tentedly in the endless sunshine of winterless, summerless
Colorado.
We rattled along cheerily in our light spring-waggon over
the smooth, fine roads, viewing the landscape from beneath
the parasols which only partially shielded us from the blaz-
ing sun. Although the gentleman from Tennessee pre-
served a truly western taciturnity, our driver beguiled the
way with instructive and amusing converse. He pointed
out to us, flourishing by the wayside, the soap-weed, whose
root is a perfect substitute for soap, and taught us to distin-
guish between the blue joint-grass — yellow as hay in winter,
but now taking on its hue of summer green — and the grey-
ish neutral-tinted bufFalo-grass, which is most succulent and
PIKE'S PEAK AND THE GARDEN OF THE GODS 265
nutritious, although its looks belie it, for a less tempting-
looking herb I never had the pleasure of seeing. He also
pointed out the dead body of a cow lying on a desolate
plain, and informed us it would dry up to a mummy in no
time J it was the effect of the air ; dead cattle speedily
mummified, and were no nuisance. Another dried-up bo-
vine skeleton bore witness to the truth of his assertion.
We observed that the soil looked barren as desert sand ;
but he replied that it only required irrigation to be extremely
fertile, showed us the irrigating ditches cut across the
meadows, and described to us some of the marvellous pro-
ductions of Colorado — a single cabbage-head weighing forty
pounds, etc. He told us of the wondrous glories of the
Arkansas canon and the«Mount of the Holy Cross — which,
alas ! we were not to see, the roads thither being as yet
rough travelling for ladies. He sang the praises of the
matchless climate, and the joys of the free, healthful life,
far from the enervating and deteriorating influences of great
cities. Indeed, it appeared from his conversation that no-
where on the face of the habitable globe could there be
found any spot even remotely emulating the charms of
Colorado — an opinion shared by every Coloradian with
whom we held any intercourse.
Our way then led up the Ute Pass, once, in days not so
far back frequented by the Ute Indians. Now, not an
Indian is to be seen for miles ; they have all been swept
back on to a reservation, and the story of the Ute outbreak
there of the past autumn is yet fresh in the minds of all.
The Ute Pass is a winding, uphill road along the side of a
266 PIKE'S PEAK AND THE GARDEN OF THE GODS
deep canon, the rocks here and there overhanging it threaten-
ingly, and affording a welcome shade from the piercing sun-
rays, which follow us even here. The steep walls of the
canon are partly clothed and crowned with pine-trees, and
along its depths a rapid, sparkling stream bubbles and leaps
over the rocks and boulders.
Up the pass a waggon-train is toiling on its way to the
great new mining centre — the giant baby city — Leadville,
the youngest and most wonderful child of the prolific west !
In this train we get entangled, and move slowly along with
it — waggons and cattle before us, waggons and cattle
behind us — tourists, teamsters, miners, drivers, drov-
ers, dogs, all huddled together in seemingly inextricable
confusion.
At the top of the pass, we tourists turn : and, while the
waggon-train plods on its slow way, we make the best of
our way back down the hill, and take the road to the
Garden of the Gods.
Why the Garden of the Gods ? I do not myself perceive
the appropriateness of the appellation. There is not a
flower in sight ; only a few stunted shrubs, and forlorn-
looking, thin trees. It is a natural enclosure, of fifty or
more acres, such as in Colorado is called a " park," scat-
tered with rocks of a rich red hue, and the wildest and
most grotesque shapes imaginable.
The giants might have made it their playground, and left
their playthings around them. Here, tossed and flung
about as if by a careless hand, lie the huge round boulders
with which they played at ball. Here they amused them-
PIKE'S PEAK AND THE GARDEN OF THE GODS 267
selves by balancing an immense mass of stone on a point
so cunningly that it has stood there for centuries looking as
if a touch would overturn it. There they have hewn a
high rock into the rough semblance of a veiled woman —
here they have sculptured a man in a hat — there piled up a
rude fortress, and there built a church.
But the giants have deserted their playground ages ago,
and trees have grown up between the fantastic formations
they left. It is a strange weird scene, and suggested to us
forcibly that if we would " view it aright " we should
" Go view it by the pale moonlight ! '
How spectral those strange shapes would look in the
gloom ! What ghostly life would seem to breathe in them
when the white moonbeams bathed their eerie outlines in
her light ! There is a something lost in the Garden of the
Gods to us who only saw it with a flood of sunshine glow-
ing on its ruddy rocks. Most of these have been chris-
tened according to their form — the Nun, the Scotchman,
the Camel, and so on.
Two huge walls of red and white stone, rising perpen-
dicularly a sheer three hundred feet, form the gate of the
Garden. Through this colossal and for-ever-open gate we
looked back with a sigh of farewell — our glimpse of the
scene seemed so brief! — and we half-fancied that the veiled
Nun bowed her dark head in the sunshine in parting salute
as we were whirled out of sight.
Between Two Oceans^ or Sketches of American Travel
(London, 1884).
THE GREAT GEYSIR OF ICELAND
SIR RICHARD F. BURTON
ON the eastern slope of the Frachytic pile and extend-
ing round the north of the rock-wall are the Hvers
and Geysirs. Nothing can be meaner than their appear-
ance, especially to the tourist who travels as usual from
Reykjavik; nothing more ridiculous than the contrast of
this pin's point, this atom of pyritic formation, with the
gigantic theory which it was held to prove, earth's central
fire, the now obsolete dream of classical philosophers and
*'*■ celebrated academicians " ; nothing more curious than the
contrast between Nature and Art, between what we see in
life and what we find in travellers' illustrations. Sir John
Stanley, perpetuated by Henderson, first gave consistence
to the popular idea of " that most wonderful fountain, the
Great Geysir ; " such is the character given to it by the
late Sir Henry Holland, a traveller who belonged to the
"wunderbar" epoch of English travel, still prevalent in
Germany. From them we derive the vast background of
black mountain, the single white shaft of fifty feet high,
domed like the popular pine-tree of Vesuvian smoke, the
bouquet of water, the Prince of Wales feathers, double-
plumed and triple-plumed, charged with stones j and the
minor jets and side squirts of the foreground, where pig-
GREAT GEYSIR OF ICELAND 269
mies stand and extend the arm of illustration and the hand
of marvel.
On this little patch, however, we may still study the
seven forms of Geysir life. First, is the baby still sleep-
ing in the bosom of Mother Earth, the airy wreath escap-
ing from the hot clay ground ; then comes the infant
breathing strongly, and at times puking in the nurse's lap ;
third, is the child simmering with impatience ; and fourth,
is the youth whose occupation is to boil over. The full-
grown man is represented by the *' Great Gusher " in the
plenitude of its lusty power; old age, by the tranquil,
sleepy " laug " ; and second childhood and death, mostly
from diphtheria or quinsy, in the empty red pits strewed
about the dwarf plain. " Patheticum est ! " as the old
scholiast exclaimed.
It is hardly fair to enter deeply in the history of the
Great Geysir, but a few words may be found useful. The
silence of Ari Frodi (a. d., 1075), and of the Landnama-
bok, so copious in its details, suggests that it did not exist
in the Eleventh Century ; and the notice of Saxo Gram-
naticus in the preface to his History of Denmark proves
that it had become known before the end of the Thir-
teenth. Hence it is generally assumed that the vol-
canic movements of a. d., 1294, which caused the
disappearance of many hot springs, produced those now
existing. Forbes clearly proved the growth of the tube by
deposition of silex on the lips ; a process which will end by
scaling the spring : he placed its birth about 1060 years
ago, which seems to be thoroughly reasonable ; and thus
270 GREAT GEYSIR OF ICELAND
for its manhood we have a period of about six cen-
turies.
In 1770 the Geyser spouted eleven times a day ; in 18 14
it erupted every six hours; and in 1872 once between two
and a week. Shepherd vainly wasted six days ; a French
party seven ; and there are legends of a wasted fortnight.
Remains now only to walk over the ground, which divides
itself into four separate patches : the extinct, to the north-west,
below and extending round the north of the Laugarfjall
buttress ; the Great Geysir ; the Strokkr and the Thikku-
hverar to the south.
In the first tract earth is uniformly red, oxidized by air,
not as in poetical Syria by the blood of Adonis. The hot,
coarse bolus, or trachytic clay, soft and unctuous, astrin-
gent, and adhering to the tongue is deposited in horizontal
layers, snowy-white, yellow-white, ruddy, light-blue, blue-
grey, mauve, purple, violet, and pale-green are the Protean
tints ; often mixed and mottled, the effect of alum,
sulphuric acid, and the decomposition of bisulphide of
iron. The saucer of the Great Geysir is lined with
Geysirite (silica hydrate), beads or tubercles of grey-white
silica; all the others want these fungi or coral-like orna-
ments. The dead and dying springs show only age-rusty
moulds and broken-down piles, once chimneys and ovens,
resembling those of Reykir, now degraded and deformed to
countless heaps of light and dark grey. Like most of the
modern features, they drained to the cold rivulet on the
east, and eventually to the south. The most interesting
feature is the Blesi (pronounced Blese), which lies 160 feet
GREAT GEYSIR OF ICELAND 27 1
north of the Great Gey sir. This hot-water pond, a Grotto
Azurra, where cooking is mostly done, lies on a mound,
and runs in various directions. To the north it forms a
dwarf river-valley flowing west of the Great Geysir ; east-
ward it feeds a hole of bubbling water which trickles in a
streak of white sinter to the eastern rivulet and a drip-
hole, apparently communicating underground with an ugly
little boiler of grey-brown, scum-streaked, bubbling mud,
foul-looking as a drain. The " beautiful quiescient spring "
measures forty feet by fifteen,^ and is of reniform or insect
shape, the waist being represented by a natural arch of stone
spanning the hot blue depths below the stony ledges which
edge them with scallops and corrugations. Hence the
name ; this bridge is the ** blaze " streaking a pony's face.
Blesi was not sealed by deposition of silex ; it suddenly
ceased to erupt in a. d., 1784, the year after the Skaptar
convulsion, a fact which suggests the origin of the Geysirs.
It is Mackenzie's " cave of blue water " ; and travellers
who have not enjoyed the lapis lazuli of the Capri grotto,
indulge in raptures about its colouration. North-west of
the Blesi, and distant 200 feet, is another ruin, situated on
a much higher plane and showing the remains of a large
silicious mould : it steams, but the breath of life comes
feebly and irregularly. This is probably the *' Roaring
Geysir" or the "Old Geysir," which maps and plans
place eighty yards from the Great Geysir.
' More exactly the two divisions are each about twenty feet long ; the
smaller is twelve and the greater is eighteen feet broad ; the extreme
depth is thirty feet
272 GREAT GEYSIR OF ICELAND
The Great Geysir was unpropitious to us, yet we
worked hard to see one of its expiring efforts. An Eng-
lishman had set up a pyramid at the edge of the saucer,
and we threw in several hundredweights, hoping that the
silex, acted upon by the excessive heat, might take the
effect of turf J the only effects were a borborygmus which
sounded somewhat like B'rr'rr't, and a shiver as if the
Foul Fiend had stirred the depths. The last eruption was
described to us as only a large segment of the tube, not
exceeding six feet in diameter. About midnight the
veteran suffered slightly from singultus. On Monday the
experts mispredicted that he would exhibit between 8
and 9 A. M., and at i a. m. on Tuesday there was a
trace of second-childhood life. After the usual eructation,
a general bubble, half veiled in white vapour, rose like a
gigantic glass-shade from the still surface, and the troubled
water trickled down the basin sides in miniature boiling
cascades. There it flowed eastwards by a single waste-
channel which presently forms a delta of two arms, the
base being the cold, rapid, and brawling rivulet ; the
northern fork has a dwarf " force," used as a douche^ and
the southern exceeds it in length, measuring some 350
paces.
We were more fortunate with the irascible Strokkr,
whose name has been generally misinterpreted. Dillon
calls it the piston, or " churning-staff " ; and Barrow the
" shaker " : it is simply the " hand-churn " whose upright
shaft is worked up and down — the churn-like column of
water suggested the resemblance. This feature, perhaps
GREAT GEYSIR OF ICELAND 273
the " New Geysir " of Sir John Stanley and Henderson,
formerly erupted naturally, and had all the amiable eccen-
tricity of youth : now it must be teased or coaxed.
Stanley gave it 130 feet of jet, or 36 higher than the
Great Geysir; Henderson 50 to 80 ; Symington, 100 to
150 feet; Bryson, "upwards of a hundred "; and Baring-
Gould, " rather higher than the Geysir." We found it
lying 275 feet (Mackenzie 131 yards) south of the big
brother, of which it is a mean replica. The outer diameter
of the saucer is only seven feet, the inner about eighteen ;
and it is too well drained by its silex-floored channel ever
to remain full.
The most interesting part to us was the fourth or south-
ern tract. It is known as the Thikku-hverar, thick
caldrous (hot springs), perhaps in the sense opposed to thin
or clear water. Amongst its "eruptiones flatuum," the
traveller feels that he is walking
" Per ignes
SupposUos cineri doloso."
There are at least fifty items in operation over this big
lime-kiln ; some without drains, others shedding either by
sinter-crusted channels eastward or westward through turf
and humus to the swampy stream. It shows an im-
mense variety, from the infantine pufF to the cold turf-
puddle i from Jack-in-the-box to the cave of blue-green
water; surrounded by ledges of silex and opaline sinter
(hydrate of silica), more or less broad : the infernal concert
of flip-flopping, spluttering, welling, fizzing, grunting,
274 GREAT GEYSIR OF ICELAND
rumbling, and growling never ceases. The prevalent tints
are green and white, but livelier hues are not wanting.
One " gusherling " discharges red water ; and there is a
spring which spouts, like an escape pipe, brown, high and
strong. The " Little Geysir," which Mackenzie places
1 06 yards south of the Strokkr, and which has been very
churlish of late years, was once seen to throw up ten to
twelve feet of clean water, like the jet of a fire-play.
The " Little Strokkr of older travellers, a wonderfully
amusing formation, which darts its waters in numerous
diagonal columns every quarter of an hour," is a stufa or
steam-jet in the centre of the group, but it has long ceased
its " funning."
Ultitna Thule ; or^ a Summer in Iceland (London and
Edinburgh, 1875).
THE RAPIDS OF THE DANUBE
( TURKEY")
WILLIAM BEATTIE
A SHORT way below Grein commences the rapid
called " Greiner-schwall," where the river, sud-
denly contracting its channel, and walled in by rugged
precipices, assumes a new aspect of foam and agitation;
while the roar of its downward course breaks deeper and
harsher on the ear. This rugged defile is the immediate
inlet to the Strudel and Wirbel — the Scylla and Charybdis
of the Danube. This is by far the most interesting and
remarkable region of the Danube. It is the fertile theme
of many legends and traditions ; and in pages of history
and romance affords ample scope for marvellous incidents
and striking details. Not a villager but can relate a hun-
dred instances of disasters incurred, and dangers overcome,
in this perilous navigation — of lives sacrificed and cargoes
sunk while endeavouring to weather the three grand
enemies of the passage — whirlpools, rocks, and robbers.
But, independently of these local traditions, and the difficul-
ties and dangers of the strait — the natural scenery which
here arrests the eye is highly picturesque, and even sub-
lime. It is the admiration of all voyagers on the Upper
Danube, and keeps a firm hold of the memory long after
other scenes and impressions have worn off. Between
276 THE RAPIDS OF THE DANUBE
Ulm and the confines of the Ottoman Empire, there is
only one other scene calculated to make anything like so
forcible an impression on the tourist ; and that is near the
cataracts of the Iron Gate — a name familiar to every Ger-
man reader.
After descending the Greiner-schwall, or rapids of the
Grein above mentioned, the river rolls on for a con-
siderable space, in a deep and almost tranquil volume,
which, by contrast with the approaching turmoil, gives in-
creased effect to its wild, stormy, and romantic features.
At first, a hollow, subdued roar, like that of distant thunder
strikes the ear and rouses the traveller's attention. This
increases every second, and the stir and activity which now
prevail among the hands on board shows that additional
force, vigilance, and caution are to be employed in the use
of helm and oars. The water is now changed in its colour
— chafed into foam, and agitated like a seething cauldron.
In front, and in the centre of the channel, rises an abrupt,
isolated, and colossal rock, fringed with wood, and crested
with a mouldering tower, on the summit of which is
planted a lofty cross, to which, in the moment of danger,
the ancient boatmen were wont to address their prayers for
deliverance. The first sight of this used to create no little
excitement and apprehension on board ; the master ordered
strict silence to be observed — ^the steersman grasped the
helm with a firm hand, — the passengers moved aside — so
as to leave free space for the boatmen, while the women
and children were hurried into the cabin, there to await,
with feelings of no little anxiety, the result of the enter-
THE RAPIDS OP THE DANUBE 277
prise. Every boatman, with his head uncovered, muttered
a prayer to his favourite saint ; and away dashed the barge
through the tumbling breakers, that seemed as if hurrying it
on to inevitable destruction. All these preparations, joined
by the wildness of the adjacent scenery, the terrific aspect
of the rocks, and the tempestuous state of the water, were
sufficient to produce a powerful sensation on the minds even
of those who had been all their lives familiar with dangers ;
while the shadowy phantoms with which superstition had
peopled it, threw a deeper gloom over the whole scene.
Now, however, these ceremonies are only cold and
formal ; for the danger being removed, the invocation of
guardian saints has become less fervent, and the cross on
the Worther Isle, we fear, is often passed with little more
than the common sign of obeisance.
Within the last fifty years the rocks in the bed of the
river have been blasted, and the former obstruction so
greatly diminished, that in the present day, the Strudel and
Wirbel present no other dangers than what may be caused
by the ignorance or negligence of boatmen ; so that the
tourist may contemplate the scene without alarm, and en-
joy, in all its native grandeur, the picture here offered to
his eye and imagination —
Frowning o'er the weltering flood,
Castled rock and waving wood,
Monkish cell and robbers' hold —
Rugged as in days of old,
From precipices, stern and grey.
Guard the dark and dreaded way.
The tourist who has happily escaped the perils of the
278 THE RAPIDS OF THE DANUBE
Strudel rapids, has still to encounter, in his descent, the
whirlpool of the Wirbel, which is distant from the former
little more than five hundred fathoms. Between the two
perils of this passage in the Danube there is a remarkable
similarity — magna componere parvis — with that of the Faro
of Messina ; where the hereditary terrors of Scylla and
Charybdis still intimidate the pilot, as he struggles to main-
tain a clear course through the strait :
" There, in foaming whirls Charybdis curls,
Loud Scylla roars to larboard ;
In that howling gulf, with the dog and wolf,
Deep moored to-night, with her living freight.
That goodly ship is harboured ! "
The cause of the whirlpool is evident at first sight. In
the centre of the stream is an island called the Hansstein,
about a hundred and fifty yards long, by fifty in breadth,
consisting of primitive rock, and dividing the river — which
at this point descends with tremendous force — into the two
separate channels of the Hossgang and the Strudel already
mentioned. In its progress to this point, it meets with that
portion of the river which runs smoothly along the north-
ern shore, and breaking it into a thousand eddies, forms the
Wirbel. This has the appearance of a series of foaming
circles, each deepening as it approaches the centre, and
caused by the two opposite streams rushing violently
against each other. That such is the real cause of the
Wirbel is sufficiently proved by the fact, that, in the great
autumnal inundation of 1787, when the flood ran so high
as to cover the Hansstein, the Wirbel, to the astonishment
THE RAPIDS OF THE DANUBE 279
of the oldest boatmen and natives of the country, had en-
tirely disappeared. For the obstacle being thus counter-
acted by the depth of the flood, and the stream being now
unbroken by the rock, rushed down in one continuous
volume, without exhibiting any of those gyratory motions
which characterize the Wirbel.
The sombre and mysterious aspects of the place, its wild
scenery, and the frequent accidents which occurred in the
passage, invested it with awe and terror; but above all, the
superstitions of the time, a belief in the marvellous, and the
credulity of the boatmen, made the navigation of the
Strudel and the Wirbel a theme of the wildest romance.
At night, sounds that were heard far above the roar of the
Danube, issued from every ruin. Magical lights flashed
through their loop-holes and casements — festivals were held
in the long-deserted halls — maskers glided from room to
room — the waltzers maddened to the strains of an infernal
orchestra — armed sentinels paraded the battlements, while
at intervals the clash of arms, the neighing of steeds, and
the shrieks of unearthly combatants smote fitfully on the
boatman's ear. But the tower in which these scenes were
most fearfully enacted was that on the Longstone, com-
monly called the " Devil's Tower," as it well deserved to
be — for here, in close communion with his master, resided
the " Black Monk," whose oflice it was to exhibit false
lights and landmarks along the gulf, so as to decoy the
vessels into the whirlpool, or dash them against the rocks.
Returning to Orsova, we re-embarked in boats provided
by the Navigation Company, and proceeded to encounter
28o THE RAPIDS OF THE DANUBE
the perils of the Eisen Thor — the Iron Gate of the Danube
— which is so apt to be associated in the stranger's imagina-
tion with something of real personal risk and adventure.
The " Iron Gate " we conjecture, is some narrow, dark
and gloomy defile, through which the water, hemmed in by
stupendous cliffs, and " iron-bound," as we say, foams and
bellows, and dashes over a channel of rocks, every one of
which, when it cannot drag you into its own whirlpool, is
sure to drive you upon some of its neighbours, which, with
another rude shove, that makes your bark stagger and reel,
sends you smack upon a third! "But the 'gate'?"
*-*■ Why the gate is nothing more or less than other gates,
the ' outlet ' ; and I dare say we shall be very glad when we
are ' let out quietly.' " " Very narrow at that point,
s'pose ? " "Very. You have seen an iron gate ? " " To
be sure I have." " Well, I'm glad of that, because you
can more readily imagine what the Iron Gate of the
Danube is." " Yes, and I am all impatience to see it ; but
what if it should be locked when we arrive? " "Why, in
that case, we should feel a little awkward." " Should we
have to wait long ? " " Only till we got the key, although
we might have to send to Constantinople for it." " Con-
stantinople ! well, here's a pretty situation ! I wish I had
gone by the * cart.' " " You certainly had your choice,
and might have done so — the Company provide both
waggon and water conveyance to Gladova ; but I dare say
we shall find the gate open." "I hope we shall; and as
for the rocks and all that, why we got over the Wirbel and
Strudel and Izlay and twenty others, and s'pose we get over
THE RAPIDS OF THE DANUBE 28 1
this too. It's only the gate that puzzles me — the Hand-
book says not a word about that — quite unpardonable such
an omission ! Write to the publisher."
By this time we were ready to shoot the rapids ; and
certainly, at first appearance, the enterprise was by no
means inviting. The water, however, was in good volume
at the time ; and although chafed and fretted by a thousand
cross, curling eddies, which tossed their crests angrily
against our bark, we kept our course with tolerable steadi-
ness to the left, and without apparent danger, unless it
might have arisen from sheer ignorance or want of precau-
tion. More towards the centre of the channel there would
certainly have been some risk ; for there the river is tor-
tured and split into numberless small threads of foam, by
the rocky spikes which line the channel, and literally tear
the water into shreds, as it sweeps rapidly over them — and
these, more than the declivity itself, are what present a
more formidable appearance in the descent. But when the
river is full, they are not much observed, although well-
known by their effects in the cross-eddies, through which,
from the channel for boats being always intricate and ir-
regular, it demands more caution and experience to steer.
The entire length of these rapids is rather more than
seventeen hundred yards, with a perpendicular fall of
nearly one yard in every three hundred, and a velocity of
from three to five yards in every second. Boats, neverthe-
less, are seen from time to time, slowly ascending, close
under the left bank of the river, dragged by teams of oxen.
"But the Iron Gate?" said an anxious voice, again ad-
282 THE RAPIDS OF THE DANUBE
dressing his fellow-tourist. " I see nothing like a gate —
but of course we have to pass the gorge first ? " " We
have passed both," said his friend, " and here is Gladova."
" Passed both ! * Tell that to the marines ! ' I know a
gorge when I see it, and a gate when I see it ; but as yet
we've passed neither." " Why, there they are," reiterated
the other, pointing to the stern ; " those white, frothing
eddies you see dancing in the distance — those are the
* Iron-Gate ! ' and very luckily we found the ' key.' " '
The inquirer now joined heartily in the laugh, and taking
another view of the " Gate " we glided smoothly down
to the little straggling, thatch-clad village of Gladova.
The Danube (London, 1844).
' At the Iron Gate the Danube quits the Austrian Dominions and
enters those of Turkey. The country on the south continues for some
time mountainous, then hilly, and by degrees sinks into a plain : on the
north is the great level of Wallachia. In its course towards the Black
Sea, the Danube divides, frequently forming numerous islands, especially
below Silistria. Its width where undivided now averages from fifteen
hundred to two thousand yards, its depth above twenty feet. Before
reaching its mouth, several large rivers flow into it, as the Alt, Sereth,
and Pruth. On its junction with the last-mentioned river it divides into
several branches, which do not again unite, and it at last terminates its
long course by issuing through seven several mouths into the Black Sea.
THE MAMMOTH CAVE
i UNITED STATES)
BAYARD TAYLOR
THERE was no outbreathing from the regions below
as we stood at the entrance to the cave, the upper
atmosphere having precisely the same temperature. We
advanced in single file down the Main Avenue, which, from
the increased number of lamps, showed with greater dis-
tinctness than on our first trip. Without pausing at any
of the objects of interest on the road, we marched to the
Giant's Coffin, crawled through the hole behind it, passed
the Deserted Chambers, and reached the Bottomless Pit, the
limit of our journey in this direction the previous day.
Beyond the Pit we entered upon new ground. After
passing from under its Moorish dome the ceiling became
low and the path sinuous and rough. I could only walk by
stooping considerably, and it is necessary to keep a sharp
look-out to avoid striking your head against the transverse
jambs of rock. This passage is aptly called the Valley of
Humiliation. It branches off to the right into another pas-
sage called Pensico Avenue, which contains some curious
stalactitic formations, similar to the Gothic Gallery. We
did not explore it, but turned to the left and entered an ex-
tremely narrow, winding passage, which meanders through
the solid rock. It is called Fat Man's Misery, and any one
284 THE MAMMOTH CAVE
whose body is more than eighteen inches in breadth will
have trouble to get through. The largest man who ever
passed it weighed two hundred and sixty pounds, and any
gentleman weighing more than that must leave the best
part of the cave unexplored. None of us came within the
scope of prohibition (Nature, it seems, is opposed to corpu-
lence), and after five minutes' twisting we emerged into a
spacious hall called the Great Relief. Its continuation
forms an avenue which leads to Bandits' Hall — a wild,
rugged vault, the bottom of which is heaped with huge
rocks that have fallen from above. All this part of the
cave is rich in striking and picturesque effects, and presents
a more rude and irregular character than anything we had
yet seen.
At the end of Bandits* Hall is the Meat-Room, where a
fine collection of limestone hams and shoulders are sus-
pended from the ceiling, as in a smoke-house, the resem-
blance, which is really curious, is entirely owing to the action
of the water. The air now grew perceptibly damp, and a few
more steps brought us to the entrance of River Hall. Here
the ceiling not only becomes loftier, but the floor gradually
slopes away before you, and you look down into the vast
depths and uncertain darkness, and question yourself if the
Grecian fable be not indeed true. While I paused on the
brink of these fresh mysteries the others of the party had
gone ahead under the charge of Mat ; Stephen, who re-
mained with me, proposed that we should descend to the
banks of the Styx and see them crossing the river upon the
Natural Bridge. We stood on the brink of the black.
THE MAMMOTH CAVE 285
silent water ; the arch of the portal was scarcely visible in
the obscurity far above us. Now, as far below, I saw the
twinkle of a distant lamp, then another and another. " Is it
possible," I asked, " that they have descended so much
further ? " " You forget," said Stephen, " that you are
looking into the river and see their reflected images. Stoop
a little and you will find that they are high above the
water." I stooped and looked under an arch, and saw the
slow procession of golden points of light passing over the
gulf under the eaves of a great clifF; but another procession
quite as distinct passed on below until the last laoip disap-
peared and all was darkness again.
Five minutes more and the roughest and most slippery
scrambling brought us to the banks of the Lethe River,
where we found the rest of the party.
The river had risen since the previous day, and was at the
most inconvenient stage possible. A part of the River
Walk was overflowed, yet not deep enough to float the
boats. Mat waded out and turned the craft, which was
moored to a projecting rock, as near to us as the water
would allow, after which he and Stephen carried us one by
one upon their shoulders and deposited us in it. It was a
rude, square scow, well plastered with river mud. Boards
were laid across for the ladies, the rest of us took our seats
on the muddy gunwales, the guides plied their paddles, and
we were afloat on Lethe.
After a ferriage of about one hundred yards, we landed
on a bank of soft mud besides a small arm of the river,
which had overfloyyecj (he usu^l path. We sank to our
286 THE MAMMOTH CAVE
ankles in the moist, tenacious soil, floundering laboriously
along until we were brought to a halt by Echo River, the
third and last stream. This again is divided into three or
four arms, which, meandering away under low arches,
finally unite.
As we stood on the wet rocks, peering down into the
black translucence of the silent, mysterious water, sounds —
first distant, then near, then distant again — stole to us from
under the groined vaults of rock. First, the dip of many
oars; then a dull, muffled peal, rumbling away like the
echoes of thunder; then a voice marvellously sweet, but
presently joined by others sweeter still, taking up the dying
notes ere they faded into silence, and prolonging them
through remoter chambers. The full, mellow strains rose
until they seemed sung at our very ears, then relapsed like
ebbing waves, to wander off into solitary halls, then ap-
proached again, and receded, like lost spirits seeking here
and there for an outlet from the world of darkness. Or
was it a chorus of angels come on some errand of pity and
mercy to visit the Stygian shores ? As the heavenly har-
monies thickened, we saw a gleam on the water, and pres-
ently a clear light, floating above its mirrored counterfeit,
swept into sight. It was no angel, but Stephen, whose
single voice had been multiplied into that enchanting chorus.
The whole party embarked in two small boats, and after
a last voyage of about two hundred yards, were landed be-
yond the waters, and free to explore the wonderful avenues
of that new world of which Stephen is the Columbus.
The River Hall here terminates, and the passages are
THE MAMMOTH CAVE 287
broken and irregular for a short distance. A few minutes
of rough travel brought us to a large circular hall with a
vaulted ceiling, from the centre of which poured a cascade
of crystal water, striking upon the slant side of a large re-
clining boulder, and finally disappearing through a funnel-
shaped pit in the floor. It sparkled like a shower of pearls
in the light of our lamps, as we clustered around the brink
of the pit to drink from the stores gathered in those natural
bowls which seem to have been hollowed out for the uses
of the invisible gnomes.
Beyond Cascade Hall commences Silliman's Avenue, a
passage about twenty feet wide, forty or fifty in height, and
a mile and a half in length.
Our lamps were replenished and we entered El Ghor,
which is by far the most picturesque avenue in the cave.
It is a narrow, lofty passage meandering through the heart
of a mass of horizontal strata of limestone, the broken
edges of which assume the most remarkable forms. Now
there are rows of broad, flat shelves overhanging your
head ; now you sweep around the stern of some mighty
vessel with its rudder set hard to starboard ; now you enter
a little vestibule with friezes and mouldings of almost Doric
symmetry and simplicity ; and now you wind away into a
Cretan labyrinth most uncouth and fantastic, whereof the
Minotaur would be a proper inhabitant. It is a continual
succession of surprises, and, to the appreciative visitor, of
raptures. The pass is somewhat more than a mile and a
half'm length, and terminates in a curious knot or entangle-
ment of passages leading to two or more tiers of avenues.
288 THE MAMMOTH CAVE
We were now, according to Stephen's promises, on the
threshold of wonders. Before proceeding further we
stopped to drink from a fine sulphur spring which fills a
natural basin in the bottom of a niche made on purpose
to contain it. We then climbed a perpendicular ladder,
passing through a hole in the ceiling barely large enough to
admit our bodies, and found ourselves at the entrance of a
narrow, lofty passage leading upwards. When all had
made the ascent the guides exultingly lifted their lamps and
directed our eyes to the rocks overhanging the aperture ;
there was the first wonder, truly ! Clusters of grapes
gleaming with blue and violet tints through the water which
trickled over them, hung from the cliffs, while a stout vine,
springing from the base and climbing nearly to the top,
seemed to support them. Hundreds on hundreds of
bunches clustering so thickly as to conceal the leaves, hang
forever ripe and forever unplucked in that marvellous vint-
age of the subterranean world. For whose hand shall
squeeze the black, infernal wine from grapes that grow be-
yond Lethe ?
Mounting for a short distance, this new avenue suddenly
turned to the left, widened, and became level ; the ceiling
is low, but beautifully vaulted, and Washington's Hall,
which we soon reached, is circular, and upwards of a hun-
dred feet in diameter. This is the usual dining-room of
parties who go beyond the rivers. Nearly five hours had
now elapsed since we entered the cave, and five hours spent
in that bracing, stimulating atmosphere might well justify
the longing glances which we cast upon the baskets carried
THE MAMMOTH CAVE 289
by the guides. Mr. Miller had foreseen our appetites, and
there were stores of venison, biscuit, ham, and pastry, more
than sufficient for all. We made our midday, or rather
midnight meal sitting, like the nymph who wrought Ex-
calibur
" Upon the hidden bases of the hills,"
buried far below the green Kentucky forests, far below the
forgotten sunshine. For in the cave you forget that there
is an outer world somewhere above you. The hours have
no meaning : Time ceases to be ; no thought of labour,
no sense of responsibility, no twinge of conscience intrudes
to suggest the existence you have left. You walk in some
limbo beyond the confines of actual life, yet no nearer the
world of spirits. For my part, I could not shake off the
impression that I was wandering on the outside of Uranus
or Neptune, or some planet still more deeply buried in the
frontier darkness of our solar system.
Washington Hall marks the commencement of Elindo
Avenue, a straight hall about sixty feet wide, twenty in
height, and two miles long. It is completely encrusted from
end to end with crystallizations of gypsum, white as snow.
This is the crowning marvel of the cave, the pride and the
boast of the guides. Their satisfaction is no less than
yours, as they lead you through the diamond grottoes, the
gardens of sparry efflorescence, and the gleaming vaults of
this magical avenue. We first entered the *' Snow-ball
Room," where the gnome-children in their sports have
peppered the grey walls and ceiling with thousands of snow-
290 THE MAMMOTH CAVE
white projecting discs, so perfect in their fragile beauty,
that they seem ready to melt away under the blaze of your
lamp. Then commences Cleveland's Cabinet, a gallery of
crystals, the richness and variety of which bewilder you.
It is a subterranean conservatory, filled with the flowers of
all the zones ; for there are few blossoms expanding on the
upper earth but are mimicked in these gardens of Darkness.
I cannot lead you from niche to niche, and from room to
room, examining in detail the enchanted growths ; they are
all so rich and so wonderful that the memory does not at-
tempt to retain them. Sometimes the hard limestone rock
is changed into a pasture of white roses; sometimes it is
starred with opening daisies ; the sunflowers spread their
flat discs and rayed leaves ; the feathery chalices of the
cactus hang from the clefts ; the night-blooming cereus
opens securely her snowy cup, for the morning never comes
to close it ; the tulip is here a virgin, and knows not that
her sisters above are clothed in the scarlet of shame.
In many places the ceiling is covered with a mammary
crystallization, as if a myriad bubbles were rising beneath its
glittering surface. Even on this jewelled soil which
sparkles all around you, grow the lilies and roses, singly
overhead, but clustering together towards the base of the
vault, where they give place to long, snowy, pendulous
cactus-flowers, which droop like a fringe around diamonded
niches. Here you see the passion-flower, with its curiously
curved pistils ; there an iris with its lanceolate leaves ; and
again, bunches of celery with stalks white and tender
enough for a fairy's dinner. There are occasional patches
THE MAMMOTH CAVE 29 1
of gypsum, tinged of a deep amber colour by the presence
of iron. Through the whole length of the avenue there is
no cessation of the wondrous work. The pale rock-
blooms burst forth everywhere, crowding on each other
until the brittle sprays cannot bear their weight, and they
fall to the floor. The slow, silent efflorescence still goes
on, as it has done for ages in that buried tropic.
What mostly struck me in my underground travels was
the evidence of design which I found everywhere. Why
should the forms of the earth's outer crust, her flowers and
fruits, the very heaven itself which spans her, be so won-
derfully reproduced .? What laws shape the blossoms and
the foliage of that vast crystalline garden ? There seemed
to be something more than the accidental combinations of
a blind chance in what I saw — some evidence of an in-
forming and directing Will. In the secret caverns, the
agencies which produced their wonders have been at work
for thousands of years, perhaps thousands of ages, fashion-
ing the sparry splendours in the womb of darkness with as
exquisite a grace, as true an instinct of beauty as in the
palm or the lily, which are moulded by the hands of the
sun. What power is it which lies behind the mere
chemistry of Nature, impregnating her atoms with such
subtle laws of symmetry ? What but Divine Will, which
first gave her being, and which is never weary of multi-
plying for man the lessons of His infinite wisdom }
At the end of Elindo Avenue the floor sinks, then as-
cends, and is at last blocked up by a huge pile of large,
loose rocks. When we had reached the foot, the roof of
292 THE MAMMOTH CAVE
the avenue suddenly lifted and expanded, and the summit
of the Rocky Mountains, as they are called, leaned against
a void waste of darkness. We climbed to the summit,
about a hundred feet above, whence we looked down into
an awful gulf, spanned far above our heads by a hollow
dome of rock. The form of this gigantic hall was nearly
elliptical. It was probably 150 feet in height, by 500 in
length, the ends terminating near the roof in the cavernous
mouths of other avenues. The guides partly descended
the hill and there kindled a brilliant Bengal light, which
disclosed more clearly the form of the hall, but I thought it
more impressive as its stupendous proportions were first
dimly revealed by the light of our lamps. Stephen, who
discovered this place, gave it the name of the Dismal
Hollow.
Scrambling along the ridge of the Rocky Mountains, we
gained the entrance to the cavern opening on the left,
which we followed for about two hundred yards, when it
terminated in a lofty circular dome, called Crogan's Hall.
The floor on one side dropped suddenly into a deep pit,
around which were several cushions of stalagmite, answer-
ing to short stalactites, hanging from the ceiling far above.
At the extremity of the hall was a sort of recess, formed
by stalactitic pillars. The wall behind it was a mass of
veined alabaster. " Here," said Stephen, " is your Ultima
Thule. This is the end of the Mammoth Cave, nine
miles from daylight." But I doubt whether there is really
an end of the cave any more than an end of the earth.
Notwithstanding the ground we had traversed, we had left
THE MAMMOTH CAVE 293
many vast avenues unexplored, and a careful search would
no doubt lead to further discoveries.
We retraced our steps slowly along Elindo Avenue,
stopping every few minutes to take a last look at the
bowers of fairy blossoms. After reaching Washington's
Hall we noticed that the air was no longer still, but was
flowing fresh and cool in our faces. Stephen observed it
also, and said : " There has been a heavy rain outside."
Entering the pass of El Ghor again at Martha's Vineyard,
we walked rapidly forward, without making a halt, to its
termination at Silliman's Avenue. The distance is
reckoned by the guides at a little more than a mile and a
half, and we were just forty minutes in walking it. We
several times felt fatigue, especially when passing the
rougher parts of the cave, but the sensation always passed
away in some unaccountable manner, leaving us fresh and
buoyant. The crossing of the rivers was accomplished
with some labour, but without accident. I accompanied
Stephen on his return through the second arch of Echo
River. As I sat alone in the silent, transparent darkness
of the mysterious stream, I could hear the tones of my
boatman's voice gliding down the caverns like a wave,
flowing more and more faintly until its vibrations were too
weak to move the ear. Thus, as he sang, there were fre-
quently three or four notes, each distinctly audible, floating
away at dift*erent degrees of remoteness. At the last arch
there was only a space of eighteen inches between the
water and the rock. We lay down on our backs in the
muddy bottom of the boat, and squeezed through to the
294 THE MAMMOTH CAVE
middle branch of Echo River, where we found the rest of
the party, who had gone round through Purgatory.
After again threading Fat Man's Misery, passing the
Bottomless Pit and the Deserted Chambers, we at last
emerged into the Main Avenue at the Giant's Coffin. It
was six o'clock, and we had been ten hours in the cave.
When we heard the tinkling drops of the little cascade
over the entrance, I looked up and saw a patch of deep,
tender blue set in the darkness. In the midst of it
twinkled a white star — whiter and more dazzling than any
star I ever saw before. I paused and drank at the trough
under the waterfall, for, like the Fountain of Trevi at
Rome, it may be that those who drink there shall return
again. When we ascended to the level of the upper world
we found that a fierce tornado had passed along during the
day ; trees had been torn up by the roots and hurled down
in all directions ; stunning thunders had jarred the air, and
the wet earth was fairly paved with leaves cut off by the
heavy hail — yet we, buried in the heart of the hills, had
heard no sound, nor felt the slightest tremour in the air.
The stars were all in their places as I walked back to
the hotel. I had been twelve hours under ground, in
which I had walked about twenty-four miles. I had lost a
day — a day with its joyous morning, its fervid noon, its
tempest, and its angry sunset of crimson and gold ; but I
had gained an age in a strange and hitherto unknown world
— an age of wonderful experience, and an exhaustless store
of sublime and lovely memories.
Jt Home and Abroad (New York, 1864).
STROMBOLI
i SICILY)
ALEXANDRE DUMAS
AS we advanced, Stromboli became more and more
distinct every moment, and through the clear
evening airv/e could perceive every detail; this mountain is
formed exactly like a hay-mow, its summit being sur-
mounted by a peak ; it is from this summit that the smoke
escapes, and, at intervals of a quarter of an hour, a flame ;
during the daytime this flame does not apparently exist,
being lost in the light of the sun ; but when evening
comes, and the Orient begins to darken, this flame be-
comes visible and you can see it dart forth from the
midst of the smoke which it colours, and fall again in jets
of lava.
Towards seven o'clock we reached Stromboli ; unfortu-
nately the port is in the east, and we came from the west ;
so that we had to coast along the whole length of the island
where the lava descended down a sharp slope into the sea.
For a breadth of twenty paces at its summit and a hundred
and fifty at its base, the mountain at this point is covered
with cinders and all vegetation is burned.
The captain was correct in his predictions : we arrived
half an hour after the port had been closed ; all we could
say to make them open to us was lost eloquence.
296 STROMBOLI
However, the entire population of Stromboli had run to
the shore. Our Speronare was a frequent visitor to this
harbour and our sailors were well known in the island.
. . . It was in Stromboli that ^olus held bound the
luctantes ventos tempestatesque sonoras. Without doubt, at
the time of the song of ^neas, and when Stromboli was
called Strongyle, the island was not known for what it
really is, and hid within its depths the boiling masses and
periodical ejaculations which make this volcano the most
obliging one in the world. In sooth, you know what to
expect from Stromboli : it is not like Vesuvius or Etna,
which make the traveller wait sometimes three, five or
even ten years for a poor little eruption. I have been told
that this is doubtless owing to the position they hold in the
hierarchy of fire-vomiting mountains, a hierarchy that per-
mits them to be aristocratic at their own pleasure : this is
true enough ; and we must not take it amiss if Stromboli
allows her social position to be assailed an instant, and to
have understood that it is only a little toy volcano to which
one would not pay the slightest attention if it made itself so
ridiculous as to put on airs.
Moreover, it did not keep us waiting. After scarcely
five minutes' expectation, a heavy rumbling was heard, a
detonation resembling twenty cannon fired in succession,
and a long jet of flame leaped into the air and fell again in
a shower of lava ; a part of this shower fell again into the
crater of the volcano, while the other, rolling down the
slope hurried like a brooklet of flame to extinguish itself,
hissing, into the sea. Ten minutes later the same phenom-
STROMBOLI 297
enon was repeated, and at every succeeding ten minutes
throughout the night.
I admit that this was one of the most curious nights I
ever spent in my life ; neither Jadin nor I could tear our-
selves away from this terrible and magnificent spectacle.
There were such detonations that the very atmosphere
seemed excited, and you imagined the whole island trem-
bling like a frightened child ; it was only Milord that these
fire-works put into a state of exaltation impossible to de-
scribe ; he wanted to jump into the water every moment to
devour the burning lava which sometimes fell ten feet
from us, like a meteor precipitating itself into the sea.
As for our boatswain, he was so accustomed to this
spectacle, that, after asking if we needed anything and upon
our reply in the negative, he retired between decks and
neither the lightnings that illuminated the air nor the thun-
ders that shook it had power to disturb his slumbers.
We stayed here until two o'clock ; finally, overcome
with fatigue and sleep, we decided to retire to our cabin.
As for Milord, nothing would persuade him to do as we
did and he stayed all night on deck, growling and barking
at the volcano.
We woke in the morning at the first movement of the
Speronare. With the return of daylight the mountain lost
all its fantastic appearance.
We constantly heard the detonations ; but the flame had
become invisible; and that burning lava stream of the night
was confused in the day with the reddish ashes over which
it rolls.
298 STROMBOLI
Ten minutes more and we were again in port. This
time we had no difficulty in entering. Pietro and Giovanni
got off with us; they wished to accompany us on our
ascent.
We entered, not an inn (there are none in Stromboli),
but a house whose proprietors were related to our captain.
As it would not have been prudent to have started on our
way fasting, Giovanni asked permission of our hosts to
make breakfast for us while Pietro went to hunt for guides,
— a permission not only accorded to us with much grace
but our host also went out and came back in a few mo-
ments with the most beautiful grapes and figs that he could
find.
After we had finished our breakfast, Pietro arrived with
two Stromboliotes who consented, in consideration of half n
piastre each, to serve as guides. It was already nearly
eight o'clock : to avoid a climb in the greatest heat of the
day, we started ofF immediately.
The top of Stromboli is only twelve or fifteen hundred
feet above the level of the sea ; but its slope is so sharp
that you cannot climb in a direct manner, but must zigzag
eternally. At first, on leaving the village, the road was
easy enough ; it rose in the midst of those vines laden with
grapes that make the commerce of the island and from
which the fruit hangs in such great quantity that any one
may help himself to all he wants without asking the per-
mission of the owner; however, upon leaving the region of
the vineyards, we found no more roads, and we had to walk
at random, looking for the best ground and the easiest
STROMBOLI 299
slopes. Despite all these precautions, there came a moment
when we were obliged to scramble on all fours : there was
nothing to do but climb up ; but this place once passed, I
vow that on turning around and seeing it, jutting almost
perpendicularly over the sea, I asked in terror how we
could ever descend ; our guides then said that we would
come down by another road : that pacified me a little.
Those who like myself are unhappy enough to have vertigo
when they see a chasm below their feet will understand my
question and still more the importance I attached to it.
This break-neck spot passed, the ascent became easier
for a quarter of an hour; but soon we came to a place
which at the first glance seemed impassable ; it was a per-
fectly sharp-pointed angle that formed the opening of the
first volcano, and part of which was cut out perpendicularly
upon the crater while the other fell with so sharp a slope to
the sea that it seemed to me if I should fall perpendicularly
on the other side I could not help rolling from top to bottom.
Even Jadin, who ordinarily climbs like a chamois without
ever troubling about the difficulties of the ground, stopped
short when we came to this passage, asking if there was not
some way to avoid it. As you may imagine, this was im-
possible.
The crater of Stromboli is formed like a vast funnel,
from the bottom and the centre of which is an opening
through which a man can enter a little way, and which
communicates with the internal furnace of the mountain ;
it is through this opening, resembling the mouth of a canon,
that the shower of projectiles darts forth, which, falling
300 STROMBOLI
again into the crater, sweeps with it down the inclined slope
of stones the cinders and lava that, rolling to the bottom,
block up that funnel. Then the volcano seems to gather
its forces together for several minutes, compressed as it is
by the stoppage of its valve ; but after a moment its smoke
trembles like a breath ; you hear a deep roaring run
through the hollow sides of the mountain ; then the can-
nonade bursts forth again, throwing up two hundred feet
above the summit new stones and new lava, which, falling
back and closing the orifice of the passage anew, prepare
for a new outburst.
Seen from where we were, that is from top to bottom,
this spectacle was superb and terrifying ; at each internal
convulsion that the mountain essayed, you felt it tremble
beneath you, and it seemed as if it would burst asunder;
then came the explosion, similar to a gigantic tree of flame
and smoke that shook its leaves of lava.
Finally, we reached the extremity of this new lake of
Sodom, and we found ourselves in an oasis of vines, pome-
granates and olives. We had not the courage to go any
farther. We lay down in the grass, and our guides brought
us an armful of grapes and a hatful of figs.
It was marvellous to us ; but there was not the smallest
drop of water for our poor Milord to drink, and we per-
ceived him devouring the skin of the figs and grapes. We
gave him part of our repast, and for the first, and probably
for the last, time in his life he dined off figs and grapes.
I have often a desire to put myself in the place of Milord
and write his memoirs as Hoffmann wrote those of his cat,
STROMBOLI 301
Murr. I am convinced that he must have had, seen from
the canine point of view, (I beg the Academie's pardon for
the expression) extremely new impressions of the people
and countries that he has visited.
A quarter of an hour after this halt we were in the vil-
lage, writing upon our tablets this judicious observation —
that the volcanoes follow but do not resemble each other :
we were nearly frozen when ascending Etna, and we were
nearly roasted when descending Str'^mboli.
Jadin and I each extended a hand towards the mountain
and swore that notwithstanding Vesuvius, Stron.boli was
the last volcano whose acquaintance we would make.
Le Capitaine Arena: Impressions de Voyage (Paris, 1836).
THE HIGH WOODS
( SOUTH AMERICA )
CHARLES KINGSLEY
IN the primeval forest, looking upon that which my
teachers and masters, Humboldt, Spix, Martius,
Schomburgk, Waterton, Ba es, Wallace, Gosse, and the
rest, had looked already, with far wiser eyes than mine,
comprehending somewhat at least of its wonders, while I could
only stare in ignorance. There was actually, then, such a
sight to be seen on earth ; and it was not less, but far more
wonderful than they had said.
My first feeling on entering the high woods was help-
lessness, confusion, awe, all but terror. One is afraid at
first to venture in fifty yards. Without a compass or the
landmark of some opening to or from which he can look, a
man must be lost in the first ten minutes, such a sameness
is there in the infinite variety. That sameness and variety
make it impossible to give any general sketch of a forest.
Once inside, "you cannot see the woods for the trees."
You can only wander on as far as you dare, letting each
object impress itself on your mind as it may, and carrying
away a confused recollection of innumerable perpendicular
lines, all straining upwards, in fierce competition, towards
the light-food far above ; and next on a green cloud, or
rather mist, which hovers round your head, and rises, thick-
THE HIGH WOODS 3O3
ening and thickening to an unknown height. The upward
lines are of every possible thickness, and of almost every
possible hue; what leaves they bear, being for most part on
the tips of the twigs, give a scattered, mist-like appearance
to the under-foliage. For the first moment, therefore, the
forest seems more open than an English wood. But try to
walk through it, and ten steps undeceive you. Around
your knees are probably Mamures, with creeping stems and
fan-shaped leaves, something like those of a young cocoa-
nut palm. You try to brush among them, and are caught
up instantly by a string or wire belonging to some other
plant. You look up and round : and then you find that the
air is full of wires — that you are hung up in a network of
fine branches belonging to half-a-dozen different sorts of
young trees, and intertwined with as many different species
of slender creepers. You thought at your first glance
among the tree-stems that you were looking through open
air ; you find that you are looking through a labyrinth of
wire-rigging, and must use the cutlass right and left at every
five steps. You push on into a bed of strong sedge-like
Sclerias, with cutting edges to their leaves. It is well for
you if they are only three, and not six feet high. In the
midst of them you run against a horizontal stick, triangular,
rounded, smooth, green. You take a glance along it right
and left, and see no end to it either way, but gradually dis-
cover that it is the leaf-stalk of a young Cocorite palm.
The leaf is five-and-twenty feet long, and springs from a
huge ostrich plume, which is sprawling out of the ground
and up above your head a few yards off. You cut the leaf-
304 THE HIGH WOODS
stalk through right and left, and walk on, to be stopped sud-
denly (for you get so confused by the multitude of objects
that you never see anything till you run against it) by a
grey lichen-covered bar, as thick as your ankle. You fol-
low it up with your eye, and find it entwine itself with
three or four other bars, and roll over with them in great
knots and festoons and loops twenty feet high, and then go
up with them into the green cloud over your head, and van-
ish, as if a giant had thrown a ship's cable into the tree-tops.
One of them, so grand that its form strikes even the Negro
and the Indian, is a Liantasse. You see that at once by the
form of its cable — six or eight inches across in one direction,
and three or four in another, furbelowed all down the mid-
dle into regular knots, and looking like a chain cable be-
tween two flexible iron bars. At another of the loops,
about as thick as your arm, your companion, if you have a
forester with you, will spring joyfully. With a few blows
of his cutlass he will sever it as high up as he can reach,
and again below, some three feet down ; and, while you are
wondering at this seemingly wanton destruction, he lifts the
bar on high, throws his head back, and pours down his
thirsty throat a pint or more of pure cold water. This hid-
den treasure is, strange as it may seem, the ascending sap,
or rather the ascending purg rain-water which has been
taken up by the roots, and is hurrying aloft, to be elabo-
rated into sap, and leaf, and flower, and fruit, and fresh tis-
sue for the very stem up which it originally climbed ; and
therefore it is that the woodman cuts the Watervine through
first at the top of the piece which he wants, and not at the
THE HIGH WOODS 305
bottom ; for so rapid is the ascent of the sap that if he cut
the stem below, the water would have all fled upwards be-
fore he could cut it off above. Meanwhile, the old story
of Jack and the Bean-stalk comes into your mind. In such
a forest was the old dame's hut; and up such a bean-stalk
Jack climbed, to find a giant and a castle high above. Why
not ? What may not be up there ? You look up into the
green cloud, and long for a moment to be a monkey. There
may be monkeys up there over your head, burly red Howler,
or tiny peevish Sapajou, peering down at you i but you can-
not peer up at them. The monkeys, and the parrots, and
the humming-birds, and the flowers, and all the beauty, are
upstairs — up above the green cloud. You are in " the
empty nave of the cathedral," and "the service is being
celebrated aloft in the blazing roof."
We will hope that as you look up, you have not been
careless enough to walk on ; for if you have you will be
tripped up at once : nor to put your hand out incautiously
to rest it against a tree, or what not, for fear of sharp
thorns, ants, and wasps* nests. If you are all safe, your
next steps, probably, as you struggle through the bush be-
tween the tree-trunks of every possible size, will bring you
face to face with huge upright walls of seeming boards,
whose rounded edges slope upward till, as your eye follows
them, you will find them enter an enormous stem, perhaps
round, like one of the Norman pillars of Durham nave, and
just as huge ; perhaps fluted, like one of William of
Wykeham's columns at Winchester. There is the stem :
but where is the tree ? Above the green cloud. You
306 THE HIGH WOODS
Struggle up to it, between two of the broad walls, but find
it not so easy to reach. Between you and it, are a half-a-
dozen tough strings which you had not noticed at first — the
eye cannot focus itself rapidly enough in this confusion of
distances — which have to be cut through ere you can pass.
Some of them are rooted in the ground, straight and tense ;
some of them dangle and wave in the wind at every height.
What are they ? Air-roots of wild Pines, or of Matapalos,
or of Figs, or of Seguines, or of some other parasite ?
Probably : but you cannot see. All you can see is, as you
put your chin close against the trunk of the tree and look
up, as if you were looking up against the side of a great
ship set on end, that some sixty or eighty feet up in the
green cloud, arms as big as English forest trees branch off;
and that out of their forks a whole green garden of vegeta-
tion has tumbled down twenty or thirty feet, and half
climbed up again. You scramble round the tree to find
whence this aerial garden has sprung : you cannot tell.
The tree-trunk is smooth and free from climbers ; and
that mass of verdure may belong possibly to the very cables
which you meet ascending into the green cloud twenty or
thirty yards back, or to that impenetrable tangle, a dozen
yards on, which has climbed a small tree, and then a taller
one again, and then a taller still, till it has climbed out of
sight and possibly into the lower branches of the big tree.
And what are their species ? What are their families ?
Who knows ? Not even the most experienced woodman
or botanist can tell you the names of plants of which he
only sees the stems. The leaves, the flowers, the fruit, can
THE HIGH WOODS 307
only be examined by felling the tree ; and not even always
then, for sometimes the tree when cut refuses to fall, linked
as it is by chains of liane to all the trees around. Even
that wonderful water-vine which we cut through just now
may be one of three or even four different plants.
Soon, you will be struck by the variety of the vegeta-
tion j and will recollect what you have often heard, that
social plants are rare in the tropic forests. Certainly they
are in the Trinidad ; where the only instances of social
trees are the Moras (which I have never seen growing
wild) and the Moriche palms. In Europe, a forest is usu-
ally made up of one dominant plant of firs or of pines, of
oaks or of beeches, of birch or of heather. Here no two
plants seem alike. There are more species on an acre here
than in all the New Forest, Savernake, or Sherwood.
Stems rough, smooth, prickly, round, fluted, stilted, upright,
sloping, branched, arched, jointed, opposite-leaved, alter-
nate-leaved, leafless, or covered with leaves of every con-
ceivable pattern, are jumbled together, till the eye and
brain are tired of continually asking " What next ? " The
stems are of every colour — copper, pink, grey, green,
brown, black as if burnt, marbled with lichens, many of
them silvery white, gleaming afar in the bush, furred with
mosses and delicate creeping film-ferns, or laced with air-
roots of some parasite aloft. Up this stem scrambles a
climbing Seguine with entire leaves ; up the next another
quite different, with deeply-cut leaves ; up the next the
Ceriman spreads its huge leaves, latticed and forked again
and again. So fast do they grow, that they have not time
308 THE HIGH WOODS
to fill up the spaces between their nerves, and are conse-
quently full of oval holes; and so fast does its spadix of
flowers expand, that (as do some other Aroids) an actual
genial heat, and fire of passion, which may be tested by the
thermometer, or even by the hand, is given off^ during
fructification. Beware of breaking it, or the Seguines.
They will probably give off an evil smell, and as probably
a blistering milk. Look on at the next stem. Up it, and
down again, a climbing fern which is often seen in hot-
houses has tangled its finely-cut fronds. Up the next, a
quite different fern is crawling, by pressing tightly to the
rough bark its creeping root-stalks, furred like a hare's leg.
Up the next, the prim little GrifFe-chatte plant has
walked, by numberless clusters of small cats'-claws, which
lay hold of the bark. And what is this delicious scent
about the air ? Vanille ? Of course it is ; and up that
stem zigzags the green fleshy chain of the Vanille Orchis.
The scented pod is far above, out of your reach ; but not
out of the reach of the next parrot, or monkey, or Negro
hunter, who winds the treasure. And the stems themselves :
to what trees do they belong ? It would be absurd for
one to try to tell you who cannot tell one-twentieth of
them himself. Sufllice it to say, that over your head are
perhaps a dozen kinds of admirable timber, which might be
turned to a hundred uses in Europe, were it possible to get
them thither : your guide (who here will be a second hos-
pitable and cultivated Scot) will point with pride to one
column after another, straight as those of a cathedral, and
sixty to eighty feet without branch or knob. That, he will
THE HIGH WOODS 309
say, is Fiddlewood ; that a Carapo, that a Cedar, that a
Roble (oak); that, larger than all you have seen yet, a
Locust ; that, a Poui ; that, a Guatecare ; that an Olivier,
woods which, he will tell you, are all but incorruptible, de-
fying weather and insects. He will show you, as curiosi-
ties, the smaller but intensely hard Letter wood. Lignum
vitae, and Purple heart. He will pass by as useless weeds,
Ceibas and Sandbox-trees, whose bulk appalls you. He
will look up, with something like a malediction, at the
Matapalos, which, every fifty yards, have seized on mighty
trees, and are enjoying, I presume, every different stage of
the strangling art, from the baby Matapalo, who, like one
which you saw in the Botanic Garden, has let down his
first air-root along his victim's stem, to the old sinner
whose dark crown of leaves is supported, eighty feet in air,
on innumerable branching columns of every size, cross-
clasped to each other by transverse bars. The giant tree
on which his seed first fell has rotted away utterly, and he
stands in its place, prospering in his wickedness, like certain
folk whom David knew too well. Your guide walks on
with a sneer. But he stops with a smile of satisfaction as
he sees lying on the ground dark green glossy leaves, which
are fading into a bright crimson ; for overhead somewhere
there must be a Balata, the king of the forest ; and there,
close by, is his stem — a madder-brown column, whose
head may be a hundred and fifty feet or more aloft. The
forester pats the side of his favourite tree, as a breeder
might that of his favourite race-horse. He goes on to
evince his affection, in the fashion of West Indians, by
310 THE HIGH WOODS
giving it a chop with his cutlass ; but not in wantonness.
He wishes to show you the hidden virtues, of this (in his
eyes) noblest of trees — how there issues out swiftly from
the wound a flow of thick white milk, which will congeal,
in an hour's time, into a gum intermediate in its properties
between caoutchouc and gutta-percha. He talks of a time
when the English gutta-percha market shall be supplied
from the Balatas of the northern hills, which cannot be
shipped away as timber. He tells you how the tree is a
tree of a generous, virtuous and elaborate race — " a tree of
God, which is full of sap," as one said of old of such — and
what could he say better, less or more ? For it is a Sapota,
cousin to the Sapodilla, and other excellent fruit-trees,
itself most excellent even in its fruit-bearing power; for
every five years it is covered with such a crop of delicious
plums, that the lazy Negro thinks it worth his while to
spend days of hard work, besides incurring the penalty of
the law (for the trees are Government property), in cutting
it down for the sake of its fruit. But this tree your guide
will cut himself. There is no gully between it and the
Government station j and he can carry it away ; and it is
worth his while to do so; for it will square, he thinks, into
a log more than three feet in diameter, and eighty, ninety
— he hopes almost a hundred — feet in length of hard, heavy
wood, incorruptible, save in salt water ; better than oak, as
good as teak, and only surpassed in this island by the Poui.
He will make a stage round it, some eight feet high, and
cut it above the spurs. It will take his convict gang (for
convicts are turned to some real use in Trinidad) several
THE HIGH WOODS 31I
days to get it down, and many more days to square it with
the axe. A trace must be made to it through the wood,
clearing away vegetation for which a European millionaire,
could he keep it in his park, would gladly pay a hundred
pounds a yard. The cleared stems, especially those of the
palms, must be cut into rollers ; and the dragging of the
huge log over them will be a work of weeks, especially in
the wet season. But it can be done, and it shall be ; so he
leaves a significant mark on his new-found treasure, and
Jeads you on through the bush, hewing his way with light
strokes right and left, so carelessly that you are inclined to
beg him to hold his hand, and not destroy in a moment
things so beautiful, so curious, things which would be in-
valuable in an English hothouse.
And where are the famous Orchids ? They perch on
every bough and stem ; but they are not, with three or
four exceptions, in flower in the winter ; and if they were,
I know nothing about them — at least, I know enough to
know how little I know. Whosoever has read Darwin's
Fertilization of Orchids^ and finds in his own reason that
the book is true, had best say nothing about the beautiful
monsters till he has seen with his own eyes more than his
master.
And yet even the three or four that are in flower arc
worth going many a mile to see. In the hothouse, they
seem almost artificial from their strangeness : but to see
them " natural," on natural boughs, gives a sense of their
reality, which no unnatural situation can give. Even to
look up at them perched on bough and stem, as one rides
312 THE HIGH WOODS
by ; and to guess what exquisite and fantastic form may
issue, in a few months or weeks, out of those fleshy, often
unsightly leaves, is a strange pleasure ; a spur to the fancy
which is surely wholesome, if we will but believe that all
these things were invented by A Fancy, which desires to
call out in us, by contemplating them, such small fancy as
we possess ; and to make us poets, each according to this
power, by showing a world in which, if rightly looked at,
all is poetry.
Another fact will soon force itself on your attention, un-
less you wish to tumble down and get wet up to your
knees. The soil is furrowed everywhere by holes ; by
graves, some two or three feet wide and deep, and of uncer-
tain length and shape, often wandering about for thirty or
forty feet, and running confusedly into each other. They
are not the work of man, nor of an animal ; for no earth
seems to have been thrown out of them. In the bottom
of the dry graves you sometimes see a decaying root : but
most of them just now are full of water, and of tiny fish
also, who burrow in the mud and sleep during the dry
season, to come out and swim during the wet. These
graves are some of them, plainly quite new. Some, again,
are very old ; for trees of all sizes are growing in them and
over them.
What makes them ? A question not easily answered.
But the shrewdest foresters say that they have the roots of
trees now dead. Either the tree has fallen and torn its
roots out of the ground, or the roots and stumps have rotted
in their place, and the soil above them has fallen in.
THE HIGH WOODS 313
But they must decay very quickly, these roots, to leave
their quite fresh graves thus empty ; and — now one thinks of
it — hovir few fallen trees, or even dead sticks, there are about.
An English wood, if left to itself, would be cumbered with
fallen timber ; and one has heard of forests in North Amer-
ica, through which it is all but impossible to make way, so
high are piled up, among the still-growing trees, dead logs
in every stage of decay. Such a sight may be seen in Eu-
rope, among the high Silver-fir forests of the Pyrenees.
How is it not so here ? How indeed ? And how comes
it — if you will, look again — that there are few or no fallen
trees, and actually no leaf-mould ? In an English wood
there would be a foot — perhaps two feet — of black soil,
renewed every autumn leaf fall. Two feet ? One has
heard often enough of bison-hunting in Himalayan forests
among Deodaras one hundred and fifty feet high, and scar-
let Rhododendrons thirty feet high, growing in fifteen or
twenty feet of leaf-and-timber mould. And here in a for-
est equally ancient, every plant is growing out of the bare
yellow loam, as it might in a well-hoed garden bed. Is it
not strange ?
Most strange ; till you remember where you are — in one
of nature's hottest and dampest laboratories. Nearly eighty
inches of yearly rain and more than eighty degrees of per-
petual heat make swift work with vegetable fibre, which, in
our cold and sluggard clime, would curdle into leaf-mould,
perhaps into peat. Far to the north, in poor old Ireland,
and far to the south, in Patagonia, begin the zones of peat,
where dead vegetable fibre, its treasures of light and heat
314 THE HIGH WOODS
locked up, lies all but useless age after age. But this is the
zone of illimitable sun-force, which destroys as swiftly as
it generates, and generates again as swiftly as it destroys.
Here, when the forest giant falls, as some tell me that they
have heard him fall, on silent nights, when the cracking of
the roots below the lianes aloft rattles like musketry through
the woods, till the great trunk comes down, with a boom
as of a heavy gun, re-echoing on from mountain-side
to mountain-side ; then —
" Nothing in him that doth fade
But doth suffer an air ! change
Into something rich and strange."
Under the genial rain and genial heat the timber tree it-
self, all its tangled ruin of lianes and parasites, and the
boughs and leaves snapped off not only by the blow, but by
the very wind, of the falling tree — all melt away swiftly
and peacefully in a few months — say almost a i&'M days —
into the water, and carbonic acid, and sunlight, out of
which they were created at first, to be absorbed instantly
by the green leaves around, and, transmuted into fresh
forms of beauty, leave not a wrack behind. Explained
thus — and this I believe to be the true explanation — the
absence of leaf- mould is one of the grandest, as it is one
of the most startling, phenomena, of the forest.
Look here at a fresh wonder. Away in front of us a
smooth grey pillar glistens on high. You can see neither
the top nor the bottom of it. But its colour, and its per-
fectly cylindrical shape, tell you what it is — a glorious
THE HIGH WOODS 315
Palmiste ; one of those queens of the forest which you saw
standing in the fields ; with its capital buried in the green
cloud and its base buried in that bank of green velvet
plumes, which you must skirt carefully round, for they are
prickly dwarf palm, called Black Roseau. Close to it rises
another pillar, as straight and smooth, but one-fourth of
the diameter — a giant's walking cane. Its head, too, is in
the green cloud. But near are two or three younger ones
only forty or fifty feet high, and you see their delicate
feather heads, and are told that they are Manacquesj the
slender nymphs which attend upon the forest queen, as
beautiful, though not as grand, as she.
The land slopes down fast now. You are tramping
through stiff mud, and those Roseaux are a sign of water.
There is a stream or gulley near : and now for the first time
you can see clear sunshine through the stems ; and see, too,
something of the bank of foliage on the other side of the
brook. You can catch sight, it may be, of the head of a
tree aloft, blazing with golden trumpet flowers, which is a
Poui ; and of another low-one covered with hoar-frost,
perhaps a Croton ; and of another, a giant covered with
purple tassels. That is an Angelim. Another giant over-
tops even him. His dark glossy leaves toss off sheets of
silver light as they flicker in the breeze ; for it blows
hard aloft outside while you are in the stifling calm. That
is a Balata. And what is that on high ? Twenty or thirty
square yards of rich crimson a hundred feet above the
ground. The flowers may belong to the tree itself. It
may be Mountain-mangrove, which I have never seen in
3l6 THE HIGH WOODS
flower : but take the glasses and decide. No. The
flowers belong to a liane. The " wonderful " Prince of
Wales' feather has taken possession of the head of a huge
Mombin, and tiled it all over with crimson combs which
crawl out to the ends of the branches, and dangle twenty
or thirty feet down, waving and leaping in the breeze.
And all over blazes the cloudless blue.
You gaze astounded. Ten steps downward, and the
vision is gone. The green cloud has closed again over
your head, and you are stumbling in the darkness of the
bush, half blinded by the sudden change from the blaze to
the shade. Beware. " Take care of the Croc-chien ! "
shouts your companion : and you are aware of, not a foot
from your face, a long, green, curved whip, armed with pairs
of barbs some four inches apart ; and you are aware also, at
the same moment, that another has seized you by the arm, an-
other by the knees, and that you must back out, unless you
are willing to part with your clothes, and your flesh after-
wards. You back out, and find that you have walked into
the tips — luckily only into the tips — of the fern-like fronds
of a trailing and climbing palm such as you see in the Botanic
Gardens. That came from the East, and furnishes the
rattan-canes. This furnishes the gri-gri-canes, and is
rather worse to meet, if possible, than the rattan. Your
companion, while he helps you to p'ck the barbs out, calls
the palm laughingly by another name, " Suelta-mi-Ingles " ;
and tells you the old story of the Spanish soldier at San
Josef. You are near the water now -, for here is a thicket
of Balisiers. Push through, under their great plantain-like
THE HIGH WOODS 317
leaves. Slip down the muddy bank to that patch of gravel.
See first, though, that it is not tenanted already by a deadly
Mapepire, or rattlesnake, which has not the grace, as his
cousin in North America has, to use his rattle.
The brooklet, muddy with last night's rain, is dammed
and bridged by winding roots, in the shape like the jointed
wooden snakes which we used to play with as children.
They belong probably to a fig, whose trunk is somewhere
up in the green cloud. Sit down on one, and look, around
and aloft. From the soil to the sky, which peeps through
here and there, the air is packed with green leaves of every
imaginable hue and shape. Round our feet are Arums,
with snow-white spadixes and hoods, one instance among
many here of brilliant colour developing itself in deep
shade. But is the darkness of the forest actually as great
as it seems ? Or are our eyes, accustomed to the blaze
outside, unable to expand rapidly enough, and so liable to
mistake for darkness air really full of light reflected down-
wards, again and again, at every angle, from the glossy sur-
faces of a million of leaves ? At least we may be ex-
cused; for a bat has made the same mistake, and flits past
us at noonday. And there is another — No ; as it turns, a
blaze of metallic azure off the upper side of the wings
proves this one to be no bat, but a Morpho — a moth as big
as a bat. And what was that second larger flash of golden
green, which dashed at the moth, and back to yonder
branch not ten feet off? A Jacamar — kingfisher, as they
miscall her here, sitting fearless of man, with the moth in
her long beak. Her throat is snowy white, her under-
3l8 THE HIGH WOODS
parts rich red brown. Her breast, and all her upper plum-
age and long tail, glitter with golden green. There is
light enough in this darkness, it seems. But now look
again at the plants. Among the white-flowered Arums are
other Arums, stalked and spotted, of which beware ; for
they are the poisonous Seguine-diable, the dumb-cane, of
which evil tales were told in the days of slavery. A few
drops of its milk, put into the mouth of a refractory slave,
or again into the food of a cruel master, could cause swell-
ing, choking, and burning agony for many hours.
Over our heads bend the great arrow leaves and purple
leaf-stalks of the Tanias ; and mingled with them, leaves
often larger still : oval, glossy, bright, ribbed, reflecting
from their underside a silver light. They belong to
Arumas; and from their ribs are woven the Indian baskets
and packs. Above these, again, the Balisiers bend their
long leaves, eight or ten feet long apiece ; and under the
shade of the leaves their gay flower-spikes, like double rows
of orange and black-birds' beaks upside down. Above
them, and among them, rise stiff upright shrubs, with pairs
of pointed leaves, a foot long some of them, pale green
above, and yellow or fawn-coloured beneath. You may
see, by the three longitudinal nerves in each leaf, that they
are Melastomas of different kinds — a sure token that you
are in the Tropics — a probable token that you are in
Tropical America.
And over them, and among them, what a strange variety
of foliage. Look at the contrast between the Balisiers and
that branch which has thrust itself among them, which you
THE HIGH WOODS 319
take for a dark copper-coloured fern, so finely divided are
its glossy leaves. It is really a Mimosa-Bois Mulatre as
they call it here. What a contrast again, the huge feathery
fronds of the Cocorite palms which stretch right away
hither over our heads, twenty and thirty feet in length.
And what is that spot of crimson flame hanging in the
darkest spot of all from an under-bough of that low weep-
ing tree ? A flower-head of the Rosa del Monte. And
what that bright straw-coloured fox's brush above it, with a
brown hood like that of an Arum, brush and hood nigh
three feet long each ? Look — for you require to look more
than once, sometimes more than twice — here, up the stem
of that Cocorite, or as much of it as you can see in the
thicket. It is all jagged with the brown butts of its old
fallen leaves ; and among the butts perch broad-leaved
ferns, and fleshy Orchids, and above them, just below the
plume of mighty fronds, the yellow fox's brush, which is
its spathe of flower.
What next ? Above the Cocorites dangle, amid a dozen
different kinds of leaves, festoons of a liane, or of two, for
one has purple flowers, the other yellow — Bignonias,
Bauhinias — what not ? And through them a Carat palm
has thrust its thin bending stem, and spread out its flat head
of fan-shaped leaves twenty feet long each : while over it,
I verily believe, hangs eighty feet aloft the head of the very
tree upon whose roots we are sitting. For amid the green
cloud you may see sprigs of leaf somewhat like that of a
weeping willow; and there, probably, is the trunk to which
they belong, or rather what will be a trunk at last. At
320 THE HIGH WOODS
present it is like a number of round edged boards of every
size, set on end, and slowly coalescing at their edges.
There is a slit down the middle of the trunk, twenty or
thirty feet long. You may see the green light of the
forest shining through it. Yes, that is probably the fig ; or,
if not, then something else. For who am I, that I should
know the hundredth part of the forms on which we look ?
And above all you catch a glimpse of that crimson mass
of Norantea which we admired just now ; and, black as
yew against the blue sky and white cloud, the plumes of one
Palmiste, who has climbed towards the light, it may be for
centuries, through the green cloud ; and now, weary and
yet triumphant, rests her dark head among the bright foliage
of a Ceiba, and feeds unhindered on the sun.
There, take your tired eyes down again ; and turn them
right, or left, or where you will, to see the same scene, and
yet never the same. New forms, new combinations ;
wealth of creative Genius — let us use the wise old word in
its true sense — incomprehensible by the human intellect or
the human eye, even as He is who makes it all, Whose
garment, or rather Whose speech, it is. The eye is not
filled with seeing, or the ear with hearing; and never
would be, did you roam these forests for a hundred years.
How many years would you need merely to examine and
discriminate the different species ? And when you had
done that, how many more to learn their action and reac-
tion on each other ? How many more to learn their
virtues, properties, uses ? How many more to answer that
perhaps ever unanswerable question — How they exist and
THE HIGH WOODS 321
grow at all? By what miracle they are compacted out of
light, air, and water, each after its kind. How, again,
those kinds began to be, and what they were like at first ?
Whether those crowded, struggling, competing shapes are
stable or variable ? Whether or not they are varying still ?
Whether even now, as we sit here, the great God may not
be creating, slowly but surely, new forms of beauty round
us. Why not ? If He chose to do it, could He not do it ?
And even had you answered that question, which would re-
quire whole centuries of observation as patient and accurate
as that which Mr. Darwin employed on Orchids and
climbing plants, how much nearer would you be to the
deepest question of all — Do these things exist, or only ap-
pear ? Are they solid realities, or a mere phantasmagoria,
orderly indeed, and law-ruled, but a phantasmagoria still ; a
picture-book by which God speaks to rational essences,
created in His own likeness ? And even had you solved
that old problem, and decided for Berkeley or against him,
you would still have to learn from these forests a knowledge
which enters into man not through the head, but through
the heart ; which (let some modern philosophers say what
they will) defies all analysis, and can be no more defined or
explained by words than a mother's love. I mean, the
causes and effects of their beauty ; that " ^Esthetic of
plants," of which Schleiden has spoken so well in that
charming book of his The Plant^ which all should read who
wish to know somewhat of " The Open Secret."
But when they read it, let them read with open hearts.
For that same *' Open Secret " is, I suspect, one of those
322 THE HIGH WOODS
which God may hide from the wise and prudent, and yet
reveal to babes.
At least, so it seemed to me, the first day that I went,
awe-struck, into the High Woods; and so it seemed to
me, the last day that I came, even more awe-struck, out of
them.
At Last: a Christmas in the West Indies (London and
New York, 187 1).
THE YO-SEMITfe VALLEY
( UNITED STATES)
C. F. GORDON-CUMMING
THE valley can be approached from several different
points. That by v^^hich w^e entered is, I think,
known as Inspiration Point. When vi^e started from
Clarke's Ranch, we were then at about the same level as
we are at this moment — namely, 4,000 feet above the sea.
The road gradually wound upwards through beautiful forest
and by upland valleys, where the snow still lay pure and
white : and here and there, where it had melted and exposed
patches of dry earth, the red flame-like blossoms of the
snow-plant gleamed vividly.
It was slow work toiling up those steep ascents, and it
must have taken us much longer than our landlord had ex-
pected, for he had despatched us without a morsel of lunch-
eon ; and ere we reached the half-way house, where we
were to change horses, we were all ravenous. A dozen
hungry people, with appetites sharpened by the keen, ex-
hilarating mountain air ! No provisions of any sort were
to be had ; but the compassionate horse-keeper, hearing our
pitiful complaints, produced a loaf and a pot of blackberry
jelly, and we all sat down on a bank, and ate our " piece "
(as the bairns in Scotland would say) with infinite relish,
and drank from a clear stream close by. So we were satis-
324 THE yo-semit£ valley
fied with bread here in the wilderness. I confess to many
qualms as to how that good fellow fared himself, as loaves
cannot grow abundantly in those parts.
Once more we started on our toilsome way across
mountain meadows and forest ridges, till at last we had
gained a height of about 7,000 feet above the sea. Then
suddenly we caught sight of the valley lying about 3,000
feet below us, an abrupt chasm in the great rolling expanse
of billowy granite ridges — or I should rather describe it as a
vast sunken pit, with perpendicular walls, and carpeted with
a level meadow, through which flows a river gleaming like
quicksilver.
Here and there a vertical cloud of spray on the face of
the huge crags told where some snow-fed stream from the
upper levels had found its way to the brink of the chasm —
a perpendicular fall of from 2,000 to 3,000 feet.
The fall nearest to where we stood, yet a distance of
seven miles, was pointed out as the Bridal Veil. It seemed
a floating film of finest mist, on which played the loveliest
rainbow lights. For the sun was already lowering behind
us, though the light shown clear and bright on the cold
white granite crags, and on the glittering snow-peaks of the
high Sierras.
Each mighty precipice, and rock-needle, and strange
granite dome was pointed out to us by name as we halted
on the summit of the pass ere commencing the steep de-
scent. The Bridal Veil falls over a granite crag near the
entrance of the valley, which, on the opposite side,' is
guarded by a stupendous square-cut granite mass, projecting
THE YO-SEMITfe VALLEY 325
SO far as seemingly to block the way. These form the
gateway of this wonderful granite prison. Perhaps the
great massive clifF rather suggests the idea of a huge
keep wherein the genii of the valley braved the siege of the
Ice-giants.
The Indians revere it as the gieat chief of the valley, but
white men only know it as El Capitan. If it must have a
new title, I think it should at least rank as a field-marshal
in the rock-world, for assuredly no other crag exists that
can compare with it. Just try to realize its dimensions : a
massive face of smooth cream-coloured granite, half a mile
long, half a mile wide, three-fifths of a mile high. Its
actual height is 3,300 feet — (I think that 5,280 feet go to a
mile). Think of our beautiful Castle Rock in Edinburgh,
with its 434 feet ; or Dover Castle, 469 feet ; or even
Arthur's Seat, 822 feet, — what pigmies they would seem
could some wizard transport them to the base of this grand
crag, on whose surface not a blade of grass, not a fern or a
lichen, finds holding ground, or presumes to tinge the bare,
clean-cut precipice, which, strange to tell, is clearly visible
from the great San Joaquin Valley, a distance of sixty
miles !
Imagine a crag just the height of Snowdon, with a lovely
snow-stream falling perpendicularly from its summit to its
base, and a second and larger fall in the deep gorge where it
meets the rock-wall of the valley. The first is nameless,
and will vanish with the snows ; but the second never dries
up, even in summer. It is known to the Indians as Lung-
00-too-koo-ya, which describes its graceful length ; but
326 THE yo-semit£: valley
white men call it The Virgin's Tears or The Ribbon
Fall — a blending of millinery and romance doubtless de-
vised by the same genius who changed the Indian name of
Pohono to The Bridal Veil.
We passed close to the latter as we entered the valley —
in fact, forded the stream just below the fall — and agreed
that if Pohono be in truth, as the Indian legend tells, the
spirit of an evil wind, it surely must be repentant glorified
spirit, for nothing so beautiful could be evil. It is a sight
to gladden the angels — a most ethereal fall, light as steam,
swaying with every breath.
It falls from an overhanging rock, and often the current
produced by its own rushing seems to pass beneath the
rocic, and so checks the whole column, and carries it up-
ward in a wreath of whitest vapour, blending with the true
clouds.
When the rainbow plays on it, it too seems to be wafted
up, and floats in a jewelled spray, wherein sapphires and
diamonds and opals, topaz and emeralds, all mingle their
dazzling tints. At other times it rushes down in a shower
of fairy-like rockets in what appears to be a perpendicular
column 1,000 feet high, and loses itself in a cloud of mist
among the tall dark pines which clothe the base of the crag.
A very accurate gentleman has just assured me that it
is not literally perpendicular, as, after a leap of 630 feet, it
strikes the rock, and then makes a fresh start in a series of
almost vertical cascades, which form a dozen streamlets ere
they reach the meadows. He adds that the fall is about
fifty feet wide at the summit.
THE YO-SEMITE VALLEY 327
The rock-mass over which it falls forms the other great
granite portal of the valley, not quite so imposing as its
massive neighbour, but far more shapely. In fact, it bears
so strong a resemblance to a Gothic building that it is
called the Cathedral Rock. It is a cathedral for the giants,
being 2,660 feet in height; and tv/o graceful rock-pinnacles
attached to the main rock, and known as the Cathedral
Spires, are each 500 feet in height.
Beyond these, towers a truly imposing rock-needle,
which has been well named The Sentinel. It is an
obelisk 1,000 feet in height, rising from the great rock-wall,
which forms a pedestal of 2,000 more.
As if to balance these three rock-needles on the right-
hand side, there are, on the left, three rounded mountains
which the Indians call Pompompasus — that is, the Leap-
ing-Frog Rocks. They rise in steps, forming a triple
mountain 3,630 feet high. Tall frogs these, even for Cali-
fornia. Imaginative people say the resemblance is unmis-
takable, and that all the frogs are poised as if in readiness
for a spring, with their heads all turned the same way.
For my own part, I have a happy knack of not seeing
these accidental likenesses, and especially those faces and
pictures (generally grotesque) which some most aggravating
people are always discovering among the lines and weather-
stains on the solemn crags, and which they insist on
pointing out to their unfortunate companions. Our coach-
man seemed to consider this a necessary part of his office,
so I assume there must be some people who like it.
Farther up the valley, two gigantic Domes of white
328 THE YO-SEMITE VALLEY
granite are built upon the foundation of the great encom-
passing wall. One stands on each side of the valley.
The North Dome is perfect, like the roof of some vast
mosque ; but the South, or Half Dome, is an extraordinary
freak of nature, very puzzling to geologists, as literally
half of a stupendous mass of granite has disappeared, leav-
ing no trace of its existence, save a sheer precipitous rock-
face, considerably over 4,000 feet in height, from which the
corresponding half has evidently broken off, and slipped
down into some fearful chasm, which apparently it has
been the means of filling up.
Above the Domes, and closing in the upper end of the
valley, is a beautiful snow mountain, called Cloud's Rest,
which, seen from afar, is the most attractive point of all,
and one which I must certainly visit some day. But
meanwhile there are nearer points of infinite interest, the
foremost being the waterfall from which the valley takes its
name, and which burst suddenly upon our amazed vision
when we reached the base of the Sentinel Rock.
It is so indescribably lovely that I altogether despair of
conveying any notion of it in words, so shall not try to do
so yet a while.
But from what I have told you, you must perceive that
each step in this strange valley affords a study for weeks,
whether to an artist, a geologist, or any other lover of
beautiful and wonderful scenes; and more than ever, I
congratulate myself on having arrived here while all the
oaks, alders, willows, and other deciduous trees, are bare
and leafless, so that no curtain of dense foliage conceals
THE YO-SEMITE VALLEY 329
the countless beauties of the valley. Already I have seen
innumerable most beautiful views, scarcely veiled by the
filmy network of twigs, but which evidently will be alto-
gether concealed a month hence, when these have donned
their summer dress. To me these leafless trees rank with
fires and snows. I have .not seen one since I left England,
so I look at them with renewed interest, and delight in the
beauty of their anatomy, as you and I have done many a
time in the larch woods and the " birken braes" of the
Findhorn (wiiere the yellow twigs of the larch, and the
grey aspen, and claret-coloured sprays of birch, blend with
russet oak and green Scotch firs, and produce a winter
colouring well-nigh as varied as that of summer).
Here there is an enchanting reminder of home in the tall
poplar-trees — the Balm of Gilead — which are just bursting
into leaf, and fill the air with heavenly perfume. They
grow in clumps all along the course of the Merced, the
beautiful " river of Mercy," which flows through this green
level valley so peacefully, as if it was . thankful for this
quiet interval in the course of its restless life.
There is no snow in the valley, but it still lies thickly on
the hills all round. Very soon it will melt, and then the
falls will all be in their glory, and the meadows will be
flooded and the streams impassable. I am glad we have
arrived in time to wander about dry-footed, and to learn
the geography of the country in its normal state.
The valley is an almost dead level, about eight miles
long, and varies in width from half a mile to two miles. It
is like a beautiful park of greenest sward, through which
330 THE YO-SEMITfe VALLEY
winds the clear, calm river — a capital trout-stream, of about
eighty feet in width. In every direction are scattered pic-
turesque groups of magnificent trees, noble old oaks, and
pines of 250 feet in height ! The river is spanned by two
wooden bridges ; and three neat hotels are well placed
about the middle of the valley, half a mile apart — happily
not fine, incongruous buildings, but wooden bungalows,
well suited to the requirements of such pilgrims as our-
selves. . . .
May-day^ 1877.
May-day! What a vision of langsyne ! Of the May-
dew we used to gather from off the cowslips by the sweet
burnside, in those dear old days
" When we all were young together.
And the earth was new to me."
I dare say you forgot all about May-day this morning, in the
prosaic details of town life. But here we ran no such risk,
for we had determined to watch the Beltane sunrise, re-
flected in the glassiest of mountain-tarns, known as the
Mirror Lake ; and as it lies about three miles from here, in
one of the upper forks of the valley, we had to astir be-
times.
So, when the stars began to pale in the eastern sky, we
were astir, and with the earliest ray of dawn set off like
true pilgrims bound to drink of some holy spring on May
morning. For the first two miles our path lay across
quiet meadows, which as yet are only sprinkled with bios-
THE YO-SEMITfi VALLEY 33 1
som. We found no cowslips, but washed our faces in
Californian May-dew, which we brushed from the fresh
young grass and ferns. Soon, they tell me, there will be
violets, cowslips, and primroses. We passed by the orchard
of the first settler in the valley ; his peach and cherry trees
were laden with pink and white blossoms, his strawberry-
beds likewise promising an abundant crop.
It was a morning of calm beauty, and the massive grey
crags all around the valley lay " like sleeping kings " robed
in purple gloom, while the pale yellow light crept behind
them, the tall pines forming a belt of deeper hue round
their base.
About two miles above the Great Yo-semite Falls, the
valley divides into three branches — canyons, I should say,
or, more correctly cafions. The central one is the main
branch, through which the Merced itself descends from the
high Sierras, passing through the Little Yo-semite Valley,
and thence rushing down deep gorges, and leaping two prec-
ipices of 700 and 400 feet (which form the Nevada and
the Vernal Falls), and so entering the Great Valley, where
for eight miles it finds rest.
The canyon which diverges to the right is that down
which rushes the South Fork of the Merced, which bears
the musical though modern name of Illillouette. It rises at
the base of Mount Starr King, and enters the valley by the
graceful falls which bear this pretty name.
At the point where we left the main valley to turn into
the Tenaya Fork, the rock-wall forms a sharp angle, end-
ing in a huge columnar mass of very white granite 2,400
332 THE YO-SEMITfc VALLEY
feet in height. The Indians call it Hunto, which means
one who keeps watch ; but the white men call it Washing-
ton Column.
Beside it, the rock-wall has taken the form of gigantic
arches. The lower rock seems to have weakened and
crumbled or split off in huge flakes, while the upper por-
tions remain, overhanging considerably, and forming regu-
larly arched cliffs 2,000 feet in height. I cannot think how
it has happened that in so republican a community these
mighty rocks should be known as the Royal Arches, unless
from some covert belief that they are undermined, and
liable to topple over. Their original name is To-coy-oe,
which describes the arched hood of an Indian baby's cradle
— a famous nursery for giants.
The perpendicular rock-face beneath the arches is a
sheer, smooth surface, yet seamed with deep cracks as
though it would fall, were it not for the mighty buttresses
of solid rock which project for some distance, casting deep
shadows across the cliff. As a test of size, I noticed a tiny
pine growing from a crevice in the rock-face, and on com-
paring it with another in a more accessible position, I found
that it was really a very large, well-grown tree.
Just at this season, when the snows on the Sierras are
beginning to melt, a thousand crystal streams find temporary
channels along the high levels till they reach the smooth
verge of the crags, and thence leap in white foam, forming
temporary falls of exceeding beauty. Three such graceful
falls at present overleap the mighty arches, and, in their
turn, produce pools and exquisitely clear streams, which
THE YO-SEMITfe VALLEY 333
thread their devious way through woods and meadows, seek-
ing the river of Mercy.
So the air is musical with the lullaby of hidden waters, and
the murmur of the unseen river rippling over its pebbly bed.
Turning to the right, we next ascended Tenaya valley,
which is beautifully wooded, chiefly with pine and oak, and
strewn with the loveliest mossy boulders. Unfortunately,
the number of rattlesnakes is rather a drawback to perfect
enjoyment here. I have so long been accustomed to our
perfect immunity from all manner of noxious creatures in
the blessed South Sea Isles, that I find it difficult at first to
recall my wonted caution, and to " gang warily." How-
ever, to-day we saw no evil creatures — only a multitude of
the jolliest little chip-munks, which are small grey squirrels
of extreme activity. They are very tame, and dance about
the trees close to us, jerking their brush, and giving the
funniest little skips, and sometimes fairly chattering to us !
Beyond this wood we found the Mirror Lake. It is a
small pool, but exquisitely cradled in the very midst of stern
granite giants, which stand all around as sentinels, guarding
its placid sleep. Willows, already covered with downy
tufts, and now just bursting into slender leaflets, fringe its
shores, and tall cedars and pines overshadow its waters, and
are therein reflected in the stillness of early dawn, when
even the granite crags far overhead also find themselves
mirrored in the calm lakelet. But with the dawn comes a
whispering breeze; and just as the sun's first gleam kisses
the waters, the illusion vanishes, and there remains only a
somewhat muddy and troubled pool.
334 THE YO-SEMITfi VALLEY
It lies just at the base of that extraordinary Half-Dome
of which I told you yesterday — a gigantic crest of granite,
which rises above the lake almost precipitously to a height
of 4,737 feet. Only think of it ! — nearly a mile ! Of this
the upper 2,000 feet is a sheer face of granite crag, abso-
lutely vertical, except that the extreme summit actually pro-
jects somewhat; otherwise it is as clean cut as if the
mighty Dome had been cloven with a sword. A few dark
streaks near the summit (due, I believe, to a microscopic
fungus or lichen) alone relieve the unbroken expanse of
glistening, creamy white.
The lower half slopes at a very slight incline, and is like-
wise a solid mass of granite — not made up of broken frag-
ments, of which there are a wonderfully small proportion
anywhere in the valley. So the inference is, that in the
tremendous convulsion this mighty chasm was created, the
great South Dome was split from the base to the summit,
and that half of it slid down into the yawning gulf: thus
the gently rounded base, between the precipice and the lake,
was doubtless originally the summit of the missing half
mountain.
I believe that geologists are now satisfied that this strange
valley, with its clean-cut, vertical walls, was produced by
what is called in geology " a fault," — namely, that some of
the earth's ribs having given away internally, a portion of
the outer crust has subsided, leaving an unoccupied space.
That such was the case in Yo-semite, is proved by much
scientific reasoning. It is shown that the two sides of the
valley in no way correspond, so the idea of a mere gigantic
THE YO-SEMITfe VALLEY 335
fissure cannot be entertained. Besides, as the valley is as
wide at the base as at the summit, the vertical walls must
have moved apart bodily, — a theory which would involve a
movement of the whole chain of the Sierras for a distance
of a half a mile.
There is not trace of any glacier having passed through
the valley, so that the Ice-giants have had no share in
making it. Neither can it have been excavated by the
long-continued action of rushing torrents, such as have
carved great canyons in many parts of the Sierra Nevada.
These never have vertical walls ; and besides, the smoothest
faces of granite in Yo-semite are turned towards the lower
end of the valley, proving at once that they were never
produced by forces moving downward.
So it is simply supposed that a strip of the Sierras caved
in, and that in time the melting snows and streams formed
a great deep lake, which filled up the whole space now oc-
cupied by the valley. In the course of ages the debris of
the hills continually falling into the lake, must have filled
up the chasm to a level with the canyon, which is the
present outlet from the valley ; and as the glaciers on the
upper Sierras disappeared, and the water-supply grew less,
the lake must have gradually dried up (and that in com-
paratively recent times), and its bed of white granite sand,
mingled with vegetable mould, was transformed into a
green meadow, through which the quiet river now glides
peacefully.
This evening the sun set in a flood of crimson and gold —
such a glorious glow as would have dazzled an eagle. It
336 THE YO-SEMITfe VALLEY
paled to a soft primrose, then ethereal green. Later, the
pearly-grey clouds were rose-flushed by an afterglow more
vivid than the sunset itself — a rich full carmine, which
quickly faded away to the cold, intense blue of a Californian
night. It was inexpressibly lovely.
Then the fitful wind rose in gusts — a melancholy, moan-
ing wail, vibrating among rocks, forests, and waters, with a
low, surging sound — a wild mountain melody.
No wonder the Indians reverence the beautiful
Yo-semite Falls. Even the white settlers in the val-
ley cannot resist their influence, but speak of them with
an admiration that amounts to love. Some of them
have spent the winter here, and seem almost to have
enjoyed it.
They say that if I could see the falls in their winter
robes, all fringed with icicles, I should gain a glimpse of
fairyland. At the base of the great fall the fairies build a
real ice-palace, something more than a hundred feet high.
It is formed by the ever falling, freezing spray ; and the
bright sun gleams on this glittering palace of crystal, and
the falling water, striking upon it, shoots off in showers like
myriad opals and diamonds.
Now scarcely an icicle remains, and the falls are in their
glory. I had never dreamt of anything so lovely. . . .
Here we stand in the glorious sunlight, among pine-trees a
couple of hundred feet in height; and they are pigmies like
ourselves in presence of even the lowest step of the stately
fall, which leaps and dashes from so vast a height that it loses
all semblance of water. It is a splendid bouquet of glisten-
THE YO-SEMITE VALLEY 337
ing rockets, which, instead of rushing heavenward, shoot
down as if from the blue canopy, which seems to touch the
brink nearly 2,700 feet above us.
Like myriad falling stars they flash, each keeping its sep-
arate course for several hundred feet, till at length it blends
with ten thousand more, in the grand avalanche of frothy,
fleecy foam, which for ever and for ever falls, boiling and
raging like a whirlpool, among the huge black boulders in
the deep cauldron below, and throwing back clouds of mist
and vapour.
The most exquisite moment occurs when you reach some
spot where the sun's rays, streaming past you, transform the
light vapour into brilliant rainbow-prisms, which gird the
falls with vivid iris-bars. As the water-rockets flash
through these radiant belts, they seem to carry the colour
onwards as they fall ; and sometimes it wavers and trembles
in the breeze, so that the rainbow knows not where to rest,
but forms a moving column of radiant tri-colour.
So large a body of water rushing through the air, natur-
ally produces a strong current, which, passing between the
face of the rock and the fall, carries the latter well forward,
so that it becomes the sport of every breeze that dances
through the valley ; hence this great column is forever
vibrating from side to side, and often it forms a semi-circu-
lar curve.
The width of the stream at the summit is about twenty
to thirty feet, but at the base of the upper fall it has ex-
panded to a width of fully 300 feet ; and, as the wind car-
ries it to one side or the other, it plays over a space of fully
338 THE Y0-SEMIT£ valley
1,000 feet in width, of a precipitous rock-face 1,600 feet in
depth. That is the height of the upper fall.
As seen from below the Yo-semite, though divided into
three distinct falls, is apparently all on one plane. It is
only when you reach some point from which you see it
sideways, that you realize that the great upper fall lies fully
a quarter of a mile farther back than the middle and lower
falls, and that it rushes down this space in boiling cascades,
till it reaches a perpendicular rock, over which it leaps about
600 feet, and then gives a third and final plunge of about
500, making up a total of little under 2,700 feet.
When we came to the head of the valley, whence diverge
the three rocky canyons, we bade adieu to the green
meadows, and passing up a most exquisite gorge, crossed
the Illillouette by a wooden bridge, and followed the main
fork of the Merced, up the central canyon. I do not any-
where know a lovelier mile of river scenery than on this
tumultuous rushing stream, leaping from rock to rock,
sweeping around mossy boulders and falling in crystalline
cascades — the whole fringed with glittering icicles, and
overshadowed by tall pine-trees, whose feathery branches
fringe the steep cliffs and wave in the breeze.
Presently a louder roar of falling water told us that we
were nearing the Vernal Falls, and through a frame of dark
pines we caught a glimpse of the white spirit-like spray-
cloud. Tying up my pony, we crept to the foot of the
falls, whence a steep flight of wooden steps has been con-
structed, by which a pedestrian can ascend about 400 feet
to the summit, and thence resume his way, thus saving a
THE YO-SEMITfe VALLEY 339
very long round. But of course four-footed creatures must
be content to go by the mountain j and so the pony settled
our route, greatly to our advantage, for the view thence,
looking down the canyon and across to Glacier Point,
proved to be about the finest thing we had seen, as an effect
of mountain gloom.
Just above the Vernal Falls comes a reach of the river
known as The Diamond Race, — a stream so rapid and
so glittering, that it seems like a shower of sparkling crys-
tals, each drop a separate gem. I have never seen a race
which, for speed and dazzling light, could compare with
these musical, glancing waters.
For half a mile above it, the river is a tumultuous raging
flood, rushing at headlong speed down a boulder-strewn
channel. At the most beautiful point it is crossed by a
light wooden bridge ; and on the green mountain-meadow
just beyond, stands the wooden house, to which a kindly
landlord gave us a cheery, hearty welcome.
Here the lullaby for the weary is the ceaseless roar of the
mighty Nevada P'alls, which come thundering down the
cliffs in a sheer leap of 700 feet, losing themselves in a deep
rock-pool, fringed with tall pines, which loom ghostly and
solemn through the ever-floating tremulous mists of fine
spray.
It is a fall so beautiful as fairly to divide one's allegiance
to Yo-semite, especially as we first beheld it at about three
in the afternoon, when the western rays of the lowering
sun lighted up the dark firs with a golden glow, and dim
rainbows played on the spray-clouds. It was as if fairy
340 THE YO-SEMITfi VALLEY
weavers had woven borders of purple and blue, green and
gold, orange and delicate rose-colour, on a tissue of silvery
gauze i and each dewy drop that rested on the fir-needles
caught the glorious light, and became a separate prism, as
though the trees were sprinkled with liquid radiant gems.
Anything more wonderful than the beauty of the Dia-
mond Race in the evening light, I never dreamt of. It is
like a river in a fairy tale, all turned to spray — ^jewelled,
glittering spray — rubies, diamonds, and emeralds, all dancing
and glancing in the sunlight.
Just below this comes a little reach of the smoothest,
clearest water, which seems to calm and collect itself ere
gliding over the edge of a great square-hewn mass of
granite 400 feet deep, forming the Vernal Falls. Along
the summit of this rock there runs a very remarkable nat-
ural ledge about four feet in height, so exactly like the stone
parapet of a cyclopean rampart that it is scarcely possible
to believe it is not artificial. Here you can lean safely
within a few feet of the fall, looking straight down the per-
pendicular crag. But for this ledge, it would be dangerous
even to set foot on that smooth, polished rock, which is as
slippery as ice.
Early rising here is reaiiy no exertion, and it brmgs its
own reward, for there is an indescribable charm in the early
gloaming as it steals over the Sierras — a freshness and an
exquisite purity of atmosphere which thrills through one's
being like a breath of the life celestial.
If you would enjoy it to perfection, you must steal out
alone ere the glory of the starlight has paled, — as I did this
THE YO-SEMITfi VALLEY 34 1
morning, following a devious pathway between thickets of
azalea, whose heavenly fragrance perfumed the valley.
Then, ascending a steep track through the pine-forest, I
reached a bald grey crag, commanding a glorious view of
the valley, and of some of the high peaks beyond. And
thence I watched the coming of the dawn.
A pale daffodil light crept upward, and the stars faded
from heaven. Then the great ghostly granite domes
changed from deep purple to a cold dead white, and the
far-distant snow-capped peaks stood out in a glittering
light, while silvery-grey mists floated upward from the
canyons, as if awakening from their sleep. Here, just as in
our own Highlands, a faint chill breath of some cold cur-
rent invariably heralds the daybreak, and the tremulous
leaves quiver, and whisper a greeting to the dawn.
Suddenly a faint flush of rosy light just tinged the highest
snow-peaks, and, gradually stealing downward, overspread
range beyond range ; another moment, and the granite
domes and the great Rock Sentinel alike blazed in the fiery
glow, which deepened in colour till all the higher crags
seemed aflame, while the valley still lay shrouded in purple
gloom, and a great and solemn stillness brooded over all.
Granite Crags (Edinburgh and London, 1884).
THE GOLDEN HORN
( TURKEY)
ALPHONSE DE LAMARTINE
THE land breeze begins to rise, and we maice use of it
to approach nearer and nearer to the Dardanelles.
Already several large ships, which like us are trying to
make this difficult entrance, come near us ; their large grey
sails, like the wings of night-birds, glide silently between
our brig and Tenedos ; I go down below and fall asleep.
Break of day : I hear the rapid sailing of vessels and the
little morning waves that sound around the sides of the brig
like the song of birds ; I open the port-hole, and I see on a
chain of low and rounded hills the castles of the Darda-
nelles with their white walls, their towers, and their im-
mense mouths for the cannon; the canal is scarcely more
than a league in width at this place ; it winds, like a beau-
tiful river, between the exactly similar coasts of Asia and
Europe. The castles shut in this sea just like the two
wings of a door ; but in the present condition of Turkey
and Europe, it would be easy to force a passage by sea, or
to make a landing and take the forts from the rear; the
passage of the Dardanelles is not impregnable unless
guarded by the Russians.
The rapid current carries us on like an arrow before
Gallipoli and the villages bordering the canal ; we see the
THE GOLDEN HORN 343
isles in the Sea of Marmora frowning before us ; we fol-
low the coast of Europe for two days and two nights,
thwarted by the north winds. In the morning we perceive
perfectly the isles of the princes, in the Sea of Marmora,
and the Gulf of Nicaea, and on our left the castle of the
Seven Towers, and the aerial tops of the innumerable min-
arets of Stamboul, in front of the seven hills of Constanti-
nople. At each tack, we discover something new. At the
first view of Constantinople, I experienced a painful emo-
tion of surprise and disillusion. "What! is this," I asked
myself, " the sea, the shore, and the marvellous city for
which the masters of the world abandoned Rome and the
coast of Naples ? Is this that capital of the universe, seated
upon Europe and Asia; for which all the conquering na-
tions disputed by turns as the sign of the supremacy of the
world ? Is this the city that painters and poets imagine
queen of cities seated upon her hills and her twin seas ;
enclosed by her gulfs, her towers, her mountains, and con-
taining all the treasures of nature and the luxury of the
Orient ? " It is here that one makes comparison with the
Bay of Naples bearing its white city upon its hollowed
bosom like a vast amphitheatre; with Vesuvius losing its
golden brow in the clouds of smoke and purple lights, the
forest of Castellamare plunging its black foliage into the
blue sea, and the islands of Procida and Ischia with their
volcanic peaks yellow with vine-branches and white with
villas, shutting in the immense bay like gigantic moles
thrown up by God himself at the entrance of this
port ? I see nothing here to compare to that spectacle with
344 THE GOLDEN HORN
which my eyes are always enchanted ; I am sailing, it
is true, upon a beautiful and lovely sea, but from the
low coasts, rounded and monotonous hills rear themselves;
it is true that the snows of Olympus of Thrace whiten the
horizon, but they are only a white cloud in the sky and do
not make the landscape solemn enough. At the back of
the gulf I see nothing but the same rounded hills of the
same height without rocks, without coves, without inden-
tations, and Constantinople, which the pilot points out with
his finger, is nothing but a white and circumscribed city
upon a large knoll on the European coast. Is it worth
while having come so far to be disenchanted ? I did not
wish to look at it any longer ; however, the ceaseless tack-
ings of the ship brought us sensibly nearer; we coasted
along the castle of the Seven Towers, an immense mediaeval
grey block, severe in construction, which faces the sea at
the angle of the Greek walls of the ancient Byzantium,
and we came to anchor beneath the houses of Stamboul in
the Sea of Marmora, in the midst of a host of ships and
boats delayed like ourselves from port by the violence of
the north winds. It was five o'clock, the sky was serene
and the sun brilliant ; I began to recover from my disdain
of Constantinople ; the walls that enclosed this portion of
the city picturesquely built of the debris of ancient walls
and surmounted by gardens, kiosks and little houses of
wood painted red, formed the foreground of the picture ;
above, the terraces of numerous houses rose in pyramid-
like tiers, story upon story, cut across with the tops of
orange-trees and the sharp, black spires of cypress; higher
THE GOLDEN HORN 345
Still, seven or eight large mosques crowned the hill, and,
flanked by their open-work minarets and their mauresque
colonnades, lifted into the sky their gilded domes, flaming
with the palpitating sunlight ; the walls, painted with tender
blue, the leaden covers of the cupolas that encircled them,
gave them the appearance and the transparent glaze of
monuments of porcelain. The immemorial cypresses lend
to these domes their motionless and sombre peaks ; and the
various tints of the painted houses of the city make the
vast hill gay with all the colours of a flower-garden. No
noise issues from the streets ; no lattice of the innumerable
windows opens ; no movement disturbs the habitation of
such a great multitude of men : everything seems to be
sleeping under the broiling sunlight j the gulf, furrowed in
every direction with sails of all forms and sizes, alone gives
signs of life. Every moment we see vessels in full sail clear
the Golden Horn (the opening of the Bosphorus), the true
harbour of Constantinople, passing by us flying towards the
Dardanelles ; but we can not perceive the entrance of the
Bosphorus, nor even understand its position. We dine on
the deck opposite this magical spectacle ; Turkish caiques
come to question us and to bring us provisions and food ;
the boatmen tell us that there is no longer any plague ; I
send my letters to the city ; at seven o'clock, M. Truqui,
the consul-general of Sardaigne, accompanied by officers of
his legation, comes to pay us a visit and oflfer us the hospi-
tality of his house in Pera ; there is not the slightest hope of
finding a lodging in the recently burned city ; the obliging
cordiality, and the attraction that M. Truqui inspires at the
34^ THE GOLDEN HORN
first moment, induces us to accept. The contrary wind still
blows, and the brigs cannot raise anchor this evening : we
sleep on board.
At five o'clock I am standing on the deck; the captain
lowers a boat ; I descend with him, and we set sail to-
wards the mouth of the Bosphorus, coasting along the walls
of Constantinople, which the sea washes. After half an
hour's navigation through a multitude of ships at anchor,
we reach the walls of the Seraglio, which stand next to
those of the city, and form, at the extremity of the hill that
bears Stamboul, the angle that separates the Sea of Mar-
mora from the canal of the Bosphorus and the Golden
Horn, or the grand inner roadstead of Constantinople. It is
here that God and man, nature and art, have placed, or
created, in concert the most marvellous view that human
eyes may contemplate upon the earth. I gave an involun-
tary cry, and I forgot for ever the Bay of Naples and all its
enchantments ; to compare anything to this magnificent
and gracious combination would be to insult creation.
The walls supporting the circular terraces of the im-
mense gardens of the great Seraglio were a few feet from
us to our left, separated from the sea by a narrow sidewalk
of stone flags washed by the ceaseless billows, where the
perpetual current of the Bosphorus formed little murmur-
ing waves, as blue as those of the Rhone at Geneva ; these
terraces that rise in gentle inclines up to the Sultan's palace,
where you perceive the gilded domes across the gigantic
tops of the plantain-trees and the cypresses, are themselves
planted with enormous cypresses and plantains whose
THE GOLDEN HORN 347
trunks dominate the walls and whose boughs, spreading be-
yond the garden, hang over the sea in cascades of foliage
shadowing the catques ; the rowers stop from time to time
beneath their shade ; every now and then these groups of
trees are interrupted by palaces, pavilions, kiosks, doors
sculptured and gilded opening upon the sea, or batteries of
cannon of copper and bronze in ancient and peculiar
shapes.
Several pulls of the oar brought us to the precise point of
the Golden Horn where you enjoy at once a view of the
Bosphorus, the Sea of Marmora, and, finally, of the entire
harbour, or, rather, the inland sea of Constantinople ; there
we forgot Marmora, the coast of Asia, and the Bosphorus,
taking in with one glance the basin of the Golden Horn
and the seven cities seated upon the seven hills of Constan-
tinople, all converging towards the arm of the sea that
forms the unique and incomparable city, that is at the same
time city, country, sea, harbour, bank of flowers, gardens,
wooded mountains, deep valleys, an ocean of houses, a
swarm of ships and streets, tranquil lakes, and enchanted
solitudes, — a view that no brush can render except by de-
tails, and where each stroke of the oar gives the eye and
soul contradictory aspects and impressions.
We set sail towards the hills of Galata and Pera ; the
Seraglio receded from us and grew larger in receding in
proportion as the eye embraced more and more the vast
outlines of its walls and the multitude of its roofs, its trees,
its kiosks and its palaces. Of itself it is sufficient to
constitute a large city. The harbour hollows itself out
348 THE GOLDEN HORN
more and more before us ; it winds like a canal between
the flanks of the curved mountains, and increases as we
advance. The harbour does not resemble a harbour in the
least ; it is rather a large river like the Thames, enclosing
the two coasts of the hills laden with towns, and covered
from one bank to the other with an interminable flotilla of
ships variously grouped the entire length of the houses.
We pass by this innumerable multitude of boats, some
riding at anchor and some about to set sail, sailing before
the wind towards the Bosphorus, towards the Black Sea,
or towards the Sea of Marmora ; boats of all shapes and
sizes and flags, from the Arabian barque, whose prow springs
and rises like the beak of antique galleys, to the vessel of
three decks with its glittering walls of bronze. Some flocks
of Turkish caiques^ managed by one or two rowers in
silken sleeves, little boats that serve as carriages in the
maritime streets of this amphibious town, circulate between
the large masses, cross and knock against each other with-
out overturning, and jostle one another like a crowd in
public places; and clouds of gulls, like beautiful white
pigeons, rise from the sea at their approach, to travel
further away and be rocked upon the waves. I did not
try to count the vessels, the ships, the brigs, the boats of
all kinds and the barks that slept or travelled in the har-
bour of Constantinople, from the mouth of the Bosphorus
and the point of the Seraglio to Eyoub and the delicious
valleys of sweet waters. The Thames at London offers
nothing in comparison. It will suffice to say that inde-
pendently of the Turkish flotilla and the European men-
THE GOLDEN HORN 349
of-war at anchor in the centre of the canal, the two sides
of the Golden Horn are covered two or three vessels deep
for about a mile in length. We could only see the ocean
by looking between the file of prows and our glance lost
itself at the back of the gulf which contracted and ran into
the shore amid a veritable forest of masts.
I have just been strolling along the Asian shore on
my return this evening to Constantinople, and I find it
a thousand times more beautiful than the European shore.
The Asian shore owes almost nothing to man ; every-
thing here has been accomplished by nature. Here there
IS no Buyukdere, no Therapia, no palace of ambassa-
dors, and no town of Armenians or Franks; there are
only mountains, gorges that separate them, little valleys
carpeted with meadows that seem to dig themselves out
of the rocks, rivulets that wind about them, cascades
that whiten them with their foam, forests that hang to
their flanks, glide into their ravines, and descend to
the very edges of the innumerable coast gulfs ; a variety
of forms and tints, and of leafy verdure, which the
brush of a landscape-painter could not even hope to
suggest. Some isolated houses of sailors or Turkish gar-
deners are scattered at great distances on the shore,
or thrown on the foreground of a wooded hill, or
grouped upon the point of rocks where the current carries
you, and breaks into waves as blue as the night sky ; some
white sails of fishermen, who creep along the deep coves,
which you see glide from one plane-tree to another, like
linen that the washerwomen fold ; innumerable flights of
350 THE GOLDEN HORN
white birds that dry themselves on the edge of the
meadows ; eagles that hover among the heights of the
mountains near the sea ; mysterious creeks entirely shut in
between rocks and trunks of gigantic trees, whose boughs,
overcharged with leaves, bend over the waves and form
upon the sea cradles wherein the ca'tques creep. One or
two villages hidden in the shadow of these creeks with
their gardens behind them on those green slopes, and their
group of trees at the foot of the rocks, with their barks
rocked by the gentle waves before their doors, their clouds
of doves on the roofs, their women and children at the
windows, their old men seated beneath the plane-trees at
the foot of the minaret ; labourers returning from the fields
in their ca'tques; others who have filled their barks with
green faggots, myrtle, or flowering heath to dry it for fuel
in the winter; hidden behind these heaps of slanting
verdure that border and descend into the water, you per-
ceive neither the bark nor the rower, and you believe that
a portion of the bank detached from the earth by the
current is floating at haphazard on the sea with its green
foliage and its perfumed flowers. The shore presents this
same appearance as far as the castle of Mahomet II.,
which from this coast also seems to shut in the Bosphorus
like a Swiss lake; there, it changes its character; the hills,
less rugged, sink their flanks and more gently hollow into
narrow valleys ; the Asiatic villages extend more richly and
nearer together; the Sweet Waters of Asia, a charming little
plain shadowed by trees and sown with kiosks and Moor-
ish fountains opens out to the vision.
THE GOLDEN HORN 35 1
Beyond the palace of Beglierby, the Asian coast again
becomes wooded and solitary as far as Scutari, which is as
brilliant as a garden of roses, at the extremity of a cape at
the entrance of the Sea of Marmora. Opposite, the verdant
point of the Seraglio presents itself to the eye ; and between
the European coast, crowned with its three painted towns,
and the coast of Stamboul, all glittering with its cupolas
and minarets, opens the immense port of Constantinople,
where the ships anchored at the two banks leave only one
large water-way for the caiques. I glide through this laby-
rinth of buildings, as in a Venetian gondola under the
shadow of palaces, and I land at the echelle des Marts, under
an avenue of cypresses.
Voyage en Orient (Paris, 1843).
THE YELLOWSTONE*
( UNITED STATES')
RUDYARD KIPLING
" That desolate land and lone
Where the Big Horn and Yellowstone
Roar down their mountain path."
TWICE have I written this letter from end to end.
Twice have I torn it up, fearing lest those across
the water should say that I had gone mad on a sudden.
Now we will begin for the third time quite solemnly and
soberly. I have been through the Yellowstone National
Park in a buggy, in the company of an adventurous old
lady from Chicago and her husband, who disapproved of
scenery as being " ongodly." I fancy it scared them.
We began, as you know, with the Mammoth Hot
Springs. They are only a gigantic edition of those pink
and white terraces not long ago destroyed by earthquake in
New Zealand. At one end of the little valley in which the
hotel stands the lime-laden springs that break from the
pine-covered hillsides have formed a frozen cataract of
white, lemon, and palest pink formations, through and over
and in which water of the warmest bubbles and drips and
trickles from pale-green lagoon to exquisitely fretted basin.
' Published by permission of Rudyard Kipling. Copyright, 1899, by
Rudyard Kipling.
THE YELLOWSTONE 353
The ground rings hollow as a kerosene-tin, and some day
the Mammoth Hotel, guests and all, will sink into the
caverns below and be turned into a stalactite. When I set
foot on the first of the terraces, a tourist — trampled ramp
of scabby grey stuff, I met a steam of iron-red hot water,
which ducked into a hole like a rabbit. Followed a gentle
chuckle of laughter, and then a deep, exhausted sigh from
nowhere in particular. Fifty feet above my head a jet of
steam rose up and died out in the blue. It was worse than
the boiling mountain at Myanoshita. The dirty white de-
posit gave place to lime whiter than snow i and I found a
basin which some learned hotel-keeper has christened
Cleopatra's pitcher, or Mark Antony's whisky-jug, or
something equally poetical. It was made of frosted silver;
it was filled with water as clear as the sky. I do not know
the depth of that wonder. The eye looked down beyond
grottoes and caves of beryl into an abyss that communicated
directly with the central fires of earth. And the pool was
in pain, so that it could not refrain from talking about it ;
muttering and chattering and moaning. From the lips of
the lime-ledges, forty feet under water, spurts of silver
bubbles would fly up and break the peace of the crystal
atop. Then the whole pool would shake and grow dim,
and there were noises. I removed myself only to find
other pools all equally unhappy, rifts in the ground, full of
running red-hot water, slippery sheets of deposit overlaid
with greenish grey hot water, and here and there pit-holes
dry as a rifled tomb in India, dusty and waterless. Else-
where the infernal waters had first boiled dead and then
354 THE YELLOWSTONE
embalmed the palms and underwood, or the forest trees had
taken heart and smothered up a blind formation with
greenery, so that it was only by scraping the earth you
could tell what fires ha^raged beneath. Yet the pines will
win the battle in years to come, because Nature, who first
forges all her work in her great smithies, has nearly finished
this job, and is ready to temper it in the soft brown earth.
The fires are dying down ; the hotel is built where terraces
have overflowed into flat wastes of deposit ; the pines have
taken possession of the high ground whence the terraces
first started. Only the actual curve of the cataract stands
clear, and it is guarded by soldiers who patrol it with loaded
six-shooters, in order that the tourist may not bring up
fence-rails and sink them in a pool, or chip the fretted
tracery of the formations with a geological hammer, or,
walking where the crust is too thin, foolishly cook him-
self. . . .
Next dawning, entering a buggy of fragile construction,
with the old people from Chicago, I embarked on my
perilous career. We ran straight up a mountain till we
could see sixty miles away, the white houses of Cook City
on another mountain, and the whiplash-like trail leading
thereto. The live air made me drunk. If Tom, the
driver, had proposed to send the mares in a bee-line to the
city, I should have assented, and so would the old lady,
who chewed gum and talked about her symptoms. The
tub-ended rock-dog, which is but the translated prairie-dog,
broke across the road under our horses' feet, the rabbit and
the chipmunk danced with fright j we heard the roar of the
THE YELLOWSTONE 355
river, and the road went round a corner. On one side piled
rock and shale, that enjoined silence for fear of a general
slide-down; on the other a sheer drop, and a fool of a
noisy river below. Then, apparently in the middle of the
road, lest any should find driving too easy, a post of rock.
Nothing beyond that save the flank of a cliff. Then my
stomach departed from me, as it does when you swing, for *
we left the dirt, which was at least some guarantee of
safety, and sailed out round the curve, and up a steep in-
cline, on a plank-road built out from the cliff. The planks
were nailed at the outer edge, and did not shift or creak
very much — but enough, quite enough. That was the
Golden Gate. I got my stomach back again when we
trotted out on to a vast upland adorned with a lake and
hills. Have you ever seen an untouched land — the face of
virgin Nature? It is rather a curious sight, because the
hills are choked with timber that has never known an axe,
and the storm has rent a way through this timber, so that a
hundred thousand trees lie matted together in swathes; and
since each tree lies where it falls, you may behold trunk
and branch returning to the earth whence they sprang — ex-
actly as the body of man returns — each limb making its
own little grave, the grass climbing above the bark, till at
last there remains only the outline of a tree upon the rank
undergrowth.
Then we drove under a cliff of obsidian, which is black
glass, some two hundred feet high ; and the road at its foot
was made of black glass that crackled. This was no great
matter, because half an hour before Tom had pulled up in
356 THE YELLOWSTONE
the woods that we might sufficiently admire a mountain who
stood all by himself, shaking with laughter or rage. . . .
Then by companies after tiffin we walked chattering to
the uplands of Hell. They call it the Norris Geyser Basin
on Earth. It was as though the tide of dissolution had
gone out, but would presently return, across innumerable
acres of dazzling white geyser formation. There were no
terraces here, but all other horrors. Not ten yards from
the road a blast of steam shot up roaring every few seconds,
a mud volcano spat filth to Heaven, streams of hot water
rumbled under foot, plunged through the dead pines in
steaming cataracts and died on a waste of white where
green-grey, black-yellow, and link pools roared, shouted,
bubbled, or hissed as their wicked fancies prompted. By
the look of the eye the place should have been frozen over.
By the feel of the feet it was warm. I ventured out among
the pools, carefully following tracks, but one unwary foot
began to sink, a squirt of water followed, and having no de-
sire to descend quick into Tophet I returned to the shore
where the mud and the sulphur and the nameless fat ooze-
vegetation of Lethe lay. But the very road rang as though
built over a gulf; and besides how was I to tell when the
raving blast of steam would find its vent insufficient and
blow the whole affair into Nirvana ? There was a potent
stench of stale eggs everywhere, and crystals of sulphur
crumbled under the foot, and the glare of the sun on the
white stuff was blinding.
We curved the hill and entered a forest of spruce, the
path serpentining between the tree-boles, the wheels run-
THE YELLOWSTONE 357
ning silent on immemorial mould. There was nothing
alive in the forest save ourselves. Only a river was speak-
ing angrily somewhere to the right. For miles we drove
till Tom bade us alight and look at certain falls. Where-
fore we stepped out of that forest and nearly fell down a
clifF which guarded a tumbled river and returned demand-
ing fresh miracles. If the water had run uphill, we should
perhaps have taken more notice of it ; but 'twas only a
waterfall, and I really forget whether the water was warm
or cold. There is a stream here called Firehole River. It
is fed by the overflow from the various geysers and basins,
— a warm and deadly river wherein no fish breed. I think
we crossed it a few dozen times in the course of the day.
Then the sun began to sink, and there was a taste of
frost about, and we went swiftly from the forest into the
open, dashed across a branch of the Firehole River and
found a wood shanty, even rougher than the last, at which,
after a forty mile drive, we were to dine and sleep. Half a
mile from this place stood, on the banks of the Firehole
River a " beaver-lodge," and there were rumours of bears
and other cheerful monsters in the woods on the hill at the
back of the building.
Once if^n a time there was a carter who brought his
team and a friend into the Yellowstone Park without due
thought. Presently they came upon a few of the natural
beauties of the place, and that carter turned his friend's
team, howling : " Get back o' this, Tim. All Hell's alight
under our noses." And they call the place Hell's Half-
acre to this day. We, too, the old lady from Chicago, her
35^ THE YELLOWSTONE
husband, Tom, and the good little mares came to Hell's
Half-acre, which is about sixty acres, and when Tom said :
" Would you like to drive over it ? " we said : '* Certainly
no, and if you do, we shall report you to the authorities."
There was a plain, blistered and puled and abominable, and
it was given over to the sportings and spoutings of devils
who threw mud and steam and dirt at each other with
whoops and halloos and bellowing curses. The place
smelt of the refuse of the Pit, and that odour mixed with
the clean, wholesome aroma of the pines in our nostrils
throughout the day. Be it known that the Park is laid
out, like Ollendorf, in exercises of progressive difficulty.
Hell's Half-acre was a preclude to ten or twelve miles of
geyser formation. We passed hot streams boiling in the
forest; saw whifFs of steam beyond these, and yet other
whifFs breaking through the misty green hills in the far dis-
tance ; we trampled on sulphur, and sniffed things much
worse than any sulphur which is known to the upper
world; and so came upon a park-like place where Tom
suggested we should get out and play with the geysers.
Imagine mighty green fields splattered with lime beds :
all the flowers of the summer growing up to the very edge
of the lime. That was the first glimpse of the geyser
basins. The buggy had pulled up close to a rough, broken,
blistered cone of stuff between ten and twenty feet high.
There was trouble in that place — moaning, splashing, gur-
gling, and the clank of machinery, A spurt of boiling water
jumped into the air and a wash of water followed. I re-
moved swiftly. The old lady from Chicago shrieked.
THE YELLOWSTONE 359
*' What a wicked waste ! " said her husband. I think they
call it the Riverside Geyser. Its spout was torn and
ragged like the mouth of a gun when a shell has burst
there. It grumbled madly for a moment or two and then
was still. I crept over the steaming lime — it was the
burning marl on which Satan lay — and looked fearfully
down its mouth. You should never look a gift geyser in
the mouth. I beheld a horrible slippery, slimy funnel with
water rising and falling ten feet at a time. Then the water
rose to lip level with a rush and an infernal bubbling
troubled this Devil's Bethesda before the sullen heave of
the crest of a wave lapped over the edge and made me run.
Mark the nature of the human soul ! I had begun with
awe, not to say terror. I stepped back from the flanks of
the Riverside Geyser saying : " Pooh ! Is that all it can
do ? " Yet for aught I knew the whole thing might have
blown up at a minute's notice ; she, he, or it, being an ar-
rangement of uncertain temper.
We drifted on up that miraculous valley. On either
side of us were hills from a thousand to fifteen feet high
and wooded from heel to crest. As far as the eye could
range forward were columns of steam in the air, misshapen
lumps of lime, most like preadamite monsters, still pools of
turquoise blue, stretches of blue cornflowers, a river that
coiled on itself twenty times, boulders of strange colours,
and ridges of glaring, staring white.
The old lady from Chicago poked with her parasol at
the pools as though they had been alive. On one particu-
larly innocent-looking little puddle she turned her back for
360 THE YELLOWSTONE
a moment, and there rose behind her a twenty-foot column
of water and steam. Then she shrieked and protested that
*■'■ she never thought it would ha' done it," and the old man
chewed his tobacco steadily, and mourned for steam power
wasted. I embraced the whitened stump of a middle-sized
pine that had grown all too close to a hot pool's lip, and
the whole thing turned over under my hand as a tree would
do in a nightmare. From right and left came the trumpet-
ings of elephants at play. I stepped into a pool of old
dried blood rimmed with the nodding cornflowers; the
blood changed to ink even as I trod ; and ink and blood
were washed away in a spurt of boiling sulphurous water
spat out from the lee of a bank of flowers. This sounds
mad, doesn't it ? . . .
We rounded a low spur of hills, and came out upon a
field of aching snowy lime, rolled in sheets, twisted into
knots, riven with rents and diamonds and stars, stretching
for more than half a mile in every direction. In this place
of despair lay most of the big geysers who know when
there is trouble in Krakatoa, who tell the pines when there
is a cyclone on the Atlantic seaboard, and who — are ex-
hibited to visitors under pretty and fanciful names. The
first mound that I encountered belonged to a goblin splash-
ing in his tub. I heard him kick, pull a shower-bath on
his shoulders, gasp, crack his joints, and rub himself down
with a towel ; then he let the water out of the bath, as a
thoughtful man should, and it all sank down out of sight
till another goblin arrived. Yet they called this place the
Lioness and the Cubs. It lies not very far from the Lion,
THE YELLOWSTONE 36 1
which is a sullen, roaring beast, and they say that when it
is very active the other geysers presently follow suit.
After the Krakatoa eruption all the geysers went mad to-
gether, spouting, spurting, and bellowing till men feared
that they would rip up the whole field. Mysterious sym-
pathies exist among them, and when the Giantess speaks
(of her more anon) they all hold their peace.
I was watching a solitary spring, when, far across the
fields, stood up a plume of spun glass, iridescent and superb
against the sky. " That," said the trooper, " is Old Faith-
ful. He goes off every sixty-five minutes to the minute,
plays for five minutes, and sends up a column of water a
hundred and fifty feet high. By the time you have looked
at all the other geysers he will be ready to play."
So we looked and we wondered at the Beehive, whose
mouth is built up exactly like a hive ; at the Turban (which
is not in the least like a turban) ; and at many, many
other geysers, hot holes, and springs. Some of them rum-
bled, some hissed, some went off spasmodically, and others
lay still in sheets of sapphire and beryl.
Would you believe that even these terrible creatures have
to be guarded by troopers to prevent the irreverent Ameri-
can from chipping the cones to pieces, or worse still, mak-
ing the geysers sick ? If you take of soft-soap a small barrel-
ful and drop it down a geyser's mouth, that geyser will pres-
ently be forced to lay all before you and for days after-
wards will be of an irritated and inconsistent stomach.
When they told me the tale I was filled with sympathy.
Now I wish that I had stolen soap and tried the experj-
362 THE YELLOWSTONE
ment on some lonely little beast of a geyser in the woods.
It sounds so probable — and so human.
Yet he would be a bold man who would administer emet-
ics to the Giantess. She is flat-lipped, having no mouth,
she looks like a pool, fifty feet long and thirty wide, and
there is no ornamentation about her. At irregular intervals
she speaks, and sends up a column of water over two
hundred feet high to begin with ; then she is angry for a
day and a half — sometimes for two days. Owing to her
peculiarity of going mad in the night not many people have
seen the Giantess at her finest j but the clamour of her un-
rest, men say, shakes the wooden hotel, and echoes like
thunder among the hills. When I saw her; trouble was
brewing. The pool bubbled seriously, and at five-minute
intervals, sank a foot or two, then rose, washed over the
rim, and huge steam bubbles broke on the top. Just before
an eruption the water entirely disappears from view.
Whenever you see the water die down in a geyser-mouth
get away as fast as you can. I saw a tiny little geyser suck
in its breath in this way, and instinct made me retire while
it hooted after me. Leaving the Giantess to swear, and
spit, and thresh about, we went over to Old Faithful, who
by reason of his faithfulness has benches close to him
whence you may comfortably watch. At the appointed
hour we heard the water flying up and down the mouth
with the sob of waves in a cave. Then came the prelimin-
ary gouts, then a roar and a rush, and that glittering column
of diamonds rose, quivered, stood still for a minute ; then
it broke, and the rest was a confused snarl of water not
THE YELLOWSTONE 363
thirty feet high. All the young ladies — not more than
twenty — in the tourist band remarked that it was " elegant,"
and betook themselves to writing their names in the bottoms
of shallow pools. Nature fixes the insult indelibly, and the
after-years will learn that " Hattie," " Sadie," " Mamie,"
" Sophie," and so forth, have taken out their hair-pins, and
scrawled in the face of Old Faithful. . . .
Next morning Tom drove us on, promising new won-
ders. He pulled up after a few miles at a clump of brush-
wood where an army was drowning. I could hear the sick
gasps and thumps of the men going under, but when I broke
through the brushwood the hosts had fled, and there were
only pools of pink, black, and white lime, thick as turbid
honey. They shot up a pat of mud every minute or two,
choking in the effort. It was an uncanny sight. Do you
wonder that in the old days the Indians were careful to
avoid the Yellowstone ? Geysers are permissible, but mud
is terrifying. The old lady from Chicago took a piece of
it, and in half an hour it died into lime-dust and blew away
between her fingers. All maya — illusion, — you see ! Then
we clinked over sulphur in crystals j there was a waterfall of
boiling water; and a road across a le/el park hotly contested
by the beavers. . . .
As we climbed the long path the road grew viler and
viler till it became without disguise, the bed of a torrent }
and just when things were at their rockiest wc emerged
into a little sapphire lake — but never sapphire was so blue —
called Mary's lake ; and that between eight and nine thou-
sand feet above the sea. Then came grass downs, all on a
364 THE YELLOWSTONE
vehement slope, so that the buggy following the new-made
road ran on to the two ofF-wheels mostly, till we dipped
head-first into a ford, climbed up a cliff, raced along a
down, dipped again and pulled up dishevelled at " Larry's "
for lunch and an hour's rest. . . .
The sun was sinking when we heard the roar of falling
waters and came to a broad river along whose banks we
ran. And then — oh, then ! I might at a pinch describe
the infernal regions, but not the other place. Be it known
to you that the Yellowstone River has occasion to run
through a gorge about eight miles long. To get to the
bottom of the gorge it makes two leaps, one of about 120
and the other of 300 feet. I investigated the upper or lesser
fall, which is close to the hotel. Up to that time nothing
particular happens to the Yellowstone, its banks being only
rocky, rather steep, and plentifully adorned with pines. At
the falls it comes round a corner, green, solid, ribbed with
a little foam, and not more than thirty yards wide. Then
it goes over still green and rather more solid than before.
After a minute or two you, sitting on a rock directly above
the drop, begin to understand that something has occurred ;
that the river has jumped a huge distance between the solid
cliff walls and what looks like the gentle froth of ripples
lapping the sides of the gorge below is really the outcome
of great waves. And the river yells aloud; but the cliffs
do not allow the yells to escape.
That inspection began with curiosity and finished in ter-
ror, for it seemed that the whole world was sliding in chrys-
olite from under my feet. I followed with the others
THE YELLOWSTONE 365
round the corner to arrive at the brink of the canon j we
had to climb up a nearly perpendicular ascent to begin with,
for the ground rises more than the river drops. Stately pine
woods fringe either lip of the gorge, which is — the Gorge
of the Yellowstone.
All I can say is that without warning or preparation I
looked into a gulf 1,700 feet deep with eagles and fish-
hawks circling far below. And the sides of that gulf were
one wild welter of colour — crimson, emerald, cobalt, ochre,
amber, honey splashed with port-wine, snow-white, ver-
milion, lemon, and silver-grey, in wide washes. The sides
did not fall sheer, but were graven by time and water and
air into monstrous heads of kings, dead chiefs, men and
women of the old time. So far below that no sound of its
strife could reach us, the Yellowstone River ran — a finger-
wide strip of jade-green. The sunlight took these won-
drous walls and gave fresh hues to those that nature had al-
ready laid there. Once I saw the dawn break over a lake
in Rajputana and the sun set over Oodey Sagar amid a
circle of Holman Hunt hills. This time I was watching
both performances going on below me — upside down you
understand — and the colours were real ! The cafion was
burning like Troy town ; but it would not burn forever,
and, thank goodness, neither pen nor brush could ever por-
tray its splendours adequately. The Academy would reject
the picture for a chromo-lithograph. The public would
scofF at the letter-press for Daily Telegraphese. " I will
leave this thing alone," said I; "'tis my peculiar property.
Nobody else shall share it with me." Evening crept
366 THE YELLOWSTONE
through the pines that shadowed us, but the full glory of
the day flamed in that caiion as we went out very cautiously
to a jutting piece of rock — blood-red or pink it was — that
overhung the deepest deeps of all. Now I know what it is
to sit enthroned amid the clouds of sunset. Giddiness took
away all sensation of touch or form ; but the sense of blind-
ing colour remained. When I reached the mainland again
I had sworn that I had been floating.
From Sea to Sea : Letters of Travel (New York, 1 899).