Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Across Patagonia in 1879


Extracts from: Across Patagonia BY LADY FLORENCE DIXIE, WITH ILLUSTRATIONS FROM SKETCHES BY JULIUS BEERBOHM ENGRAVED BY WHYMPER AND PEARSON, LONDON: RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON, Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen, 1880

 

My party consisted of Lord Queensberry and Lord James Douglas, my two brothers, my husband, and myself, and a friend, Mr. J. Beerbohm, whose book, Wanderings in Patagonia, had just been published when we left England. We only took one servant with us, knowing that English servants inevitably prove a nuisance and hindrance in expeditions of the kind, when a great deal of "roughing it" has to be gone through, as they have an unpleasant knack of falling ill at inopportune moments.

Our outfit was soon completed, and shipped, together with our other luggage, on board the good ship "Britannia," which sailed from Liverpool on the 11th December 1878.

+ + +

As we went along we passed a couple of canoes containing Fuegians, the inhabitants of the Tierra del Fuego, but they were too far off to enable me to judge of their appearance, though I should have liked to have had a good look at them. They are reputed to be cannibals, and no doubt justly so. I have even been told that in winter, when other food is scarce, they kill off their own old men and women, though of course they prefer a white man if obtainable.

At one o'clock we cast anchor off Sandy Point. This settlement is called officially by the Chileans, to whom it belongs, "La Colonia de Magellanes." It was formerly only a penal colony, but in consequence of the great increase of traffic through the Straits, the attention of the Chilian Government was drawn to the importance the place might ultimately assume, and, accordingly, grants of land and other inducements were offered to emigrants. But the colony up to the present has never flourished as was expected, and during a mutiny which took place there in 1877, many of the houses were burned down, and a great deal of property destroyed. As the steamer was to leave in two hours, we began preparations for landing, but meantime the breeze, which had sprung up shortly after our arrival, freshened into a gale, and the sea grew so rough that it was impossible to lower a boat, and the lighters that had come off shore to fetch away cargo dared not go back. The gale lasted all day and the greater part of the night, calming down a little towards three o'clock in the morning. Every effort was accordingly made to get us on shore, the alternative being that we should have to go on with the steamer to Valparaiso, the Company's regulations not allowing more than a certain length of time to be spent at Sandy Point. As may be imagined, we by no means liked the idea of such a possible consummation, and the weather was eagerly scanned, whilst our luggage and traps were being hurried over the sides, as a fresh increase in the strength of the wind would have been fatal.

+ + +

A whole day was spent in unpacking the provisions and equipments we had brought from England, and in putting them into canvas bags, so as to be conveniently portable on horseback. For the benefit of those who may contemplate an expedition similar to ours, I give the following list of the articles and provisions we took with us. We limited ourselves, I may say en passant, to such things as were absolutely indispensable, the disadvantages arising from being burdened with unnecessary luggage on such a trip being self-evident:—Two small tents (tentes d'abri), 2 hatchets, 1 pail, 1 iron pot for cooking, 1 frying-pan, 1 saucepan, biscuits, coffee, tea, sugar, flour, oatmeal, preserved milk, and a few tins of butter, 2 kegs of whisky.

To the above we added a sack of yerba maté, of which herb we all grew so fond that we ultimately used it to the complete exclusion of tea and coffee, although at first we by no means agreed with the enthusiastic description of its merits given by Mr. B., at whose recommendation we had taken it.

Our personal outfit consisted, in addition to a few changes of woollen underclothing, in a guanaco-fur mantle, a rug or two, a sheath-knife and revolver; besides, of course, the guns and rifles we had brought for sporting purposes. The cartridges for the latter, of which we had a great number, formed the heaviest item of weight; but notwithstanding the care we had used in our calculations, so as not to take more provisions than we wanted, the goodly pile which was formed when all our luggage was heaped together was rather alarming, and we found that twelve horses at least would be required to carry it. Fortunately we were able to procure three mules, who, between them, carried more than six horses could have done, without, moreover, suffering half as much as the latter in condition from fatigue, or the severe heat which we occasionally encountered.

+ + +

After breakfast the horses were saddled, and taking some sugar, tobacco, and other articles for bartering purposes, we set out for the Indian camp, accompanied by Gregorio and Guillaume. I'Aria and Storer were left in charge of our camp, and Francisco went off with the dogs towards Cape Gregorio, in the hope of falling in with some stray ostrich or guanaco. The weather was fine, and for once we were able to rejoice in the absence of the rough winds which were our daily annoyance. We had not gone far when we saw a rider coming slowly towards us, and in a few minutes we found ourselves in the presence of a real Patagonian Indian. We reined in our horses when he got close to us, to have a good look at him, and he doing the same, for a few minutes we stared at him to our hearts' content, receiving in return as minute and careful a scrutiny from him. Whatever he may have thought of us, we thought him a singularly unprepossessing object, and, for the sake of his race, we hoped an unfavourable specimen of it. His dirty brown face, of which the principal feature was a pair of sharp black eyes, was half-hidden by tangled masses of unkempt hair, held together by a handkerchief tied over his forehead, and his burly body was enveloped in a greasy guanaco-capa, considerably the worse for wear. His feet were bare, but one of his heels was armed with a little wooden spur, of curious and ingenious handiwork. Having completed his survey of our persons, and exchanged a few guttural grunts with Gregorio, of which the purport was that he had lost some horses and was on their search, he galloped away, and, glad to find some virtue in him, we were able to admire the easy grace with which he sat his well-bred looking little horse, which, though considerably below his weight, was doubtless able to do its master good service.

Continuing our way we presently observed several mounted Indians, sitting motionless on their horses, like sentries, on the summit of a tall ridge ahead of us, evidently watching our movements. At our approach they disappeared over the ridge, on the other side of which lay their camping-ground. Cantering forward we soon came in sight of the entire Indian camp, which was pitched in a broad valley-plain, flanked on either side by steep bluffs, and with a little stream flowing down its centre. There were about a dozen big hide tents, in front of which stood crowds of men and women, watching our approach with lazy curiosity. Numbers of little children were disporting themselves in the stream, which we had to ford in order to get to the tents. Two Indians, more inquisitive than their brethren, came out to meet us, both mounted on the same horse, and saluted us with much grinning and jabbering. On our arrival in the camp we were soon encircled by a curious crowd, some of whose number gazed at us with stolid gravity, whilst others laughed and gesticulated as they discussed our appearance in their harsh guttural language, with a vivacious manner which was quite at variance with the received traditions of the solemn bent of the Indian mind. Our accoutrements and clothes seemed to excite great interest, my riding-boots in particular being objects of attentive examination, and apparently of much serious speculation. At first they were content to observe them from a distance, but presently a little boy was delegated by the elders, to advance and give them a closer inspection. This he proceeded to do, coming towards me with great caution, and when near enough, he stretched out his hand and touched the boots gently with the tips of his fingers. This exploit was greeted with roars of laughter and ejaculations, and emboldened by its success, many now ventured to follow his example, some enterprising spirits extending their researches to the texture of my ulster, and one even going so far as to take my hand in his, whilst subjecting a little bracelet I wore to a profound and exhaustive scrutiny.



INDIAN CAMP.

Whilst they were thus occupied I had leisure to observe their general appearance. I was not struck so much by their height as by their extraordinary development of chest and muscle. As regards their stature, I do not think the average height of the men exceeded six feet, and as my husband stands six feet two inches I had a favourable opportunity for forming an accurate estimate. One or two there were, certainly, who towered far above him, but these were exceptions. The women were mostly of the ordinary height, though I noticed one who must have been quite six feet, if not more. The features of the pure-bred Tehuelche are extremely regular, and by no means unpleasant to look at. The nose is generally aquiline, the mouth well shaped and beautified by the whitest of teeth, the expression of the eye is intelligent, and the form of the whole head affords a favourable index to their mental capabilities. These remarks do not apply to the Tehuelches in whose veins there is a mixture of Araucanian or Fuegian blood. The flat noses, oblique eyes, and badly proportioned figures of the latter make them most repulsive objects, and they are as different from a pure-bred Tehuelche in every respect as "Wheel-of-Fortune" from an ordinary carthorse. Their hair is long and coarse, and is worn parted in the middle, being prevented from falling over their faces by means of a handkerchief, or fillet of some kind, tied round the forehead. They have naturally little hair on the face, and such growth as may appear is carefully eradicated, a painful operation, which many extend even to their eyebrows. Their dress is simple, and consists of a "chiripá," a piece of cloth round the loins, and the indispensable guanaco capa, which is hung loosely over the shoulders and held round the body by the hand, though it would obviously seem more convenient to have it secured round the waist with a belt of some kind. Their horse-hide boots are only worn, for reasons of economy, when hunting. The women dress like the men except as regards the chiripá, instead of which they wear a loose kind of gown beneath the capa, which they fasten at the neck with a silver brooch or pin. The children are allowed to run about naked till they are five or six years old, and are then dressed like their elders. Partly for ornament, partly also as a means of protection against the wind, a great many Indians paint their faces, their favourite colour, as far as I could see, being red, though one or two I observed had given the preference to a mixture of that colour with black, a very diabolical appearance being the result of this combination.

The Tehuelches are a race that is fast approaching extinction, and even at present it scarcely numbers eight hundred souls. They lead a rambling nomadic existence, shifting their camping places from one region to another, whenever the game in their vicinity gets shy or scarce. It is fortunate for them that the immense numbers of guanaco and ostriches makes it an easy matter for them to find subsistence, as they are extremely lazy, and, plentiful as game is around them, often pass two or three days without food rather than incur the very slight exertion attendant on a day's hunting.

But it is only the men who are cursed or blessed with this indolent spirit. The women are indefatigably industrious. All the work of Tehuelche existence is done by them except hunting. When not employed in ordinary household work they busy themselves in making guanaco capas, weaving gay-coloured garters and fillets for the hair, working silver ornaments, and so forth. Not one of their least arduous tasks is that of collecting firewood, which, always a scarce article, becomes doubly hard to find, except by going great distances, when they camp long in one place.

+ + +

Gregorio had seen a herd of guanacos at the far end of the plain over which the chase had taken place, and thither we accordingly rode. After half an hour's galloping, we reached its limit, finding below a broad valley broken up into various depressions and hillocks. At the base of one of the latter we saw a small herd of guanaco, within range of which, by dint of careful stalking, we presently managed to come. Two fortunate shots brought a couple of their number down, and luckily both turned out to be quite healthy. Under the skilful manipulation of Gregorio and Francisco, in a marvellously short space of time they were cut up, and the meat having been distributed among our various saddles, heavily laden, we turned homewards.



GUANACOS.

The way back seemed terribly long, now that we had no longer the excitement of hunting to shorten the time; and it seemed quite incredible that we had gone the distance we had been, when, towards sunset, after a cold and weary ride, we at last stood on the edge of the plain which overlooked the valley where lay our home for the nonce.

The evening had turned out fine, the boisterous wind which had annoyed us so much in the daytime had died away, and the sky was now bright and clear. Through the branches of the beech trees I could catch a glimpse of our camp, with its white tents just peeping over the green bushes, and a thin column of blue smoke rising up into the air, pleasantly suggestive of warm tea and other comforts awaiting us. Farther on, in the long green grass of the valley, which was now glowing under the last rays of the sun, were our horses, some grazing, others lying stretched out, lazily enjoying their day's respite from work, whilst the colts and fillies, as is their wont at sundown, were frisking about and kicking up their heels in all the exuberance of youth, unconscious as yet of heavy packs and sharp spurs. Whatever special character the peaceful scene might otherwise want was fully supplied by the picturesquely wild appearance of my companions, as,  eschewing contemplation, and anticipating dinner, they rode quickly ahead towards the camp on their shaggy, sturdy horses, their bodies muffled in the graceful guanaco robe, and huge pieces of red raw meat dangling on either side of their saddles, followed by the blood-stained hounds, who seemed thoroughly tired after their hard day's work.

But whatever country one is in, whatever scenes one may be among—in one's own cosy snuggery in England, or in the bleak steppes of Patagonia—there is a peculiar sameness in the feeling that comes over one towards the hours of evening, and which inevitably calls up the thought, It must be getting near dinner-time. Yielding to this admonition, which to-day was by no means less plain than usual, I quitted my eyrie and rode down to the camp.

When I got there I found preparations for an ample meal in full swing. Ingeniously spitted on a wooden stave, the whole side of a guanaco was roasting before a blazing fire, and in the pot a head of the same animal was yielding its substance towards the production of what I was assured would turn out an excellent soup. At dinner-time I was able practically to confirm this assurance; a better broth cannot be concocted than that obtained from such a guanaco head, with the addition of rice, dried vegetables, chilis, etc. But, at the risk of incurring the charge of digressing too much on the subject of eating, I must pay a tribute to the delicacy of a peculiar morsel in the guanaco, which we called "Fat-behind-the-Eye," and which is, in fact, a piece of fat situated as indicated by its name. The tongue and the brain are rare tit-bits, but they must yield in subtle savouriness to the aforesaid bonne-bouche. Having once tasted it, till the end of our trip guanaco head formed a standing item in our daily messes, and whatever other culinary novelties we discussed, and they were as numerous as strange, "Fat-behind-the-eye" always retained its supremacy in our affections as the ne plus ultra of pampa delicacies.

+ + +

Next morning, the horses being all ready, we lost no time in springing into the saddle, leaving Storer to take charge of the camp, much to his alarm, and in spite of his earnest remonstrance. The poor man vainly protested that, were the Indians to discover our retreat, he would be perfectly powerless to prevent their pillaging the whole camp, especially as his ignorance of their "jargon," as he scornfully termed the Tehuelche language, would place him in a most helpless position. Regardless of his arguments and imploring looks we rode away, determining to risk the improbable intrusion of the Indians, whose camp lay at least twenty miles distant from our own. For about half an hour we followed Gregorio and the Chilian along a line of broken hillocks, after which, calling a halt, we sent forward Guillaume and I'Aria to commence the first and most distant proceedings of the circle. They departed at a brisk canter, and it was not long before several rising columns of smoke testified that they were already busily engaged. The next to compose the centre circle were my husband, François, and Mr. B., shortly after supported on the right by the Chilian and my brother. Immediately on their left Gregorio and myself commenced operations, and soon a distinct circle of fires might be seen springing quickly up from all points. I could not help being greatly impressed with the novel sight now before me. From the high plain we were on I could look over miles and miles of untrodden desert land, where countless herds of guanaco were roaming in peaceful lazy ease. In the distance towered the peaks of the Andes, wrapped in their cloak of mystery, lonely and unexplored. The huge columns of smoke and the lurid flames of the circle-fires lent a wild appearance to the thrilling scene, to which the frightened knots of guanacos, which were hurrying to escape from the circle and the eager galloping horsemen, lent additional active animation.

For some time Gregorio and I rode slowly and silently on our way, when a sudden unexpected bound which my horse gave all but unseated me. "Avestruz! Avestruz!" shouted Gregorio, and turned his horse with a quick movement. "Choo! choo! Plata!" I cry to the dog who followed at my horse's heels, as a fine male ostrich scudded away towards the hills we had just left with the speed of lightning. Plata has sighted him, and is straining every limb to reach the terrified bird. He is a plucky dog and a fleet one, but it will take him all his time to come alongside that great raking ostrich as he strides away in all the conscious pride of his strength and speed. "We shall lose him!" I cry, half mad with excitement, spurring my horse, who is beginning to gasp and falter as the hill up which we are struggling grows steeper and steeper. But the ostrich suddenly doubles to the left, and commences a hurried descent. The cause is soon explained, for in the direction towards which he has been making a great cloud of smoke rises menacingly in his path, and, baulked of the refuge he had  hoped to find amidst the hills, the great bird is forced to alter his course, and make swiftly for the plains below. But swiftly as he flies along, so does Plata, who finds a down-hill race much more suited to his splendid shoulders and rare stride. Foot by foot he lessens the distance that separates him from his prey, and gets nearer and nearer to the fast sinking, fast tiring bird. Away we go, helter-skelter down the hill, unchecked and undefeated by the numerous obstacles that obstruct the way. Plata is alongside the ostrich, and gathers himself for a spring at the bird's throat. "He has him, he has him!" I shout to Gregorio, who does not reply, but urges his horse on with whip and spur. "Has he got him, though?" Yes—no—the ostrich with a rapid twist has shot some thirty yards ahead of his enemy, and whirling round, makes for the hills once more. And now begins the struggle for victory. The ostrich has decidedly the best of it, for Plata, though he struggles gamely, does not like the uphill work, and at every stride loses ground. There is another fire on the hill above, but it lies too much to the left to attract the bird's attention, who has evidently a safe line of escape in view in that direction. On, on we press; on, on flies the ostrich; bravely and gamely struggles  in its wake poor Plata. "Can he stay?" I cry to Gregorio, who smiles and nods his head. He is right, the dog can stay, for hardly have the words left my lips when, with a tremendous effort, he puts on a spurt, and races up alongside the ostrich. Once more the bird points for the plain; he is beginning to falter, but he is great and strong, and is not beaten yet. It will take all Plata's time and cunning to pull that magnificent bird to the ground, and it will be a long fierce struggle ere the gallant creature yields up his life. Unconscious of anything but the exciting chase before me, I am suddenly disagreeably reminded that there is such a thing as caution, and necessity to look where you are going to, for, putting his foot in an unusually deep tuca-tuca hole, my little horse comes with a crash upon his head, and turns completely over on his back, burying me beneath him in a hopeless muddle. Fortunately, beyond a shaking, I am unhurt, and remounting, endeavour to rejoin the now somewhat distant chase. The ostrich, Gregorio, and the dog have reached the plain, and as I gallop quickly down the hill I can see that the bird has begun doubling. This is a sure sign of fatigue, and shows that the ostrich's strength is beginning to fail him. Nevertheless it is a matter of no small difficulty for one dog to secure his prey, even at this juncture, as he cannot turn and twist about as rapidly as the ostrich. At each double the bird shoots far ahead of his pursuer, and gains a considerable advantage. Away across the plain the two animals fly, whilst I and Gregorio press eagerly in their wake. The excitement grows every moment more intense, and I watch the close struggle going on with the keenest interest. Suddenly the stride of the bird grows slower, his doubles become more frequent, showers of feathers fly in every direction as Plata seizes him by the tail, which comes away in his mouth. In another moment the dog has him by the throat, and for a few minutes nothing can be distinguished but a gray struggling heap. Then Gregorio dashes forward and throws himself off his horse, breaks the bird's neck, and when I arrive upon the scene the struggle is over. The run had lasted for twenty-five minutes.



THE LAST DOUBLE.

Our dogs and horses were in a most pitiable state. Poor Plata lay stretched on the ground with his tongue, hot and fiery, lolling out of his mouth, and his sides going at a hundred miles an hour. The horses, with their heads drooped till they almost touched the ground, and their bodies streaming with perspiration, presented a most pitiable sight, and while Gregorio disembowelled and fastened the ostrich together, I loosened their girths, and led them to a pool hard by to drink. At length they became more comfortable, and as soon as they seemed in a fit state to go on, Gregorio and I lifted the huge bird on to his horse, and tied it across the animal's withers. Encumbered thus, Gregorio turned to depart in the direction of the camp, followed by Plata, while I went in an opposite direction in search of my companions down in the plain. It was not long before I distinguished in the far distance an ostrich coming straight towards me, closely followed by a dog and two horsemen. Galloping to meet them, I was the means of turning the bird into "Peaché's" jaws, for such was the name of I'Aria's dog. The two horsemen turned out to be the old fellow in question and my brother, who arrived, hot and full of excitement, on the scene just as I was throwing myself from my horse to prevent Peaché from tearing the bird to pieces. Leaving I'Aria to complete the hunter's work, my brother and I rode slowly back towards our camp, discussing the merits of our horses, dogs, and the stamina of the two ostriches we had slain. So engrossed were we that we could hardly believe our eyes when we came suddenly in full view of our snug little retreat, but, nevertheless, we were very glad to dismount and refresh ourselves with the hot coffee which we found old Storer had ready waiting.

One by one the other hunters dropped in. They had all been successful, with the exception of Guillaume; and as we stood grouped round the five large ostriches lying on the ground, we congratulated ourselves on our good fortune, and on the excellent sport we had had. At dinner we passed judgment on ostrich-meat, which we now really tasted for the first time, for what we had obtained from the Indian camp had been dry and unpalatable. We thought it excellent; the breast and wings are particularly good; the latter much resemble pheasant.

+ + +

On our arrival we found active preparations going on in the culinary department, and every one very busily engaged. Three huge fires blazed merrily in front of my tent, and a little farther off a succession of smaller ones indicated the spot where the cooks were employed in preparing dinner. Over one of these hung a pot of soup, carefully superintended by my husband; at another Storer was watching and turning the roasting ribs of a guanaco, while at a third Gregorio occupied himself in frying a rich steak of ostrich, and roasting three or four of their wings as a bonne bouche, which was to succeed the roast. 169 Nor were Guillaume or I'Aria idle, as the goodly pile of firewood that lay stacked up near each fire spoke volumes for their activity and energy. After we had unsaddled our horses and turned them loose to join their companions hard by, we refreshed ourselves with maté, and then proceeded to take part in the general work and arrangement of the camp. Mysteriously promising us something extra good in the shape of a new dish, François retired into his tent, dragging after him the ostrich which we had just killed. The result of his efforts, he assured us, would produce a pleasant surprise, and an agreeable change in the monotony of our daily diet. Though full of curiosity as to what that result might prove, we judged it best to leave him alone, remembering the proverb that "Too many cooks spoil a dish." Collecting the rows of pack-saddles and articles of riding gear, I proceeded to arrange them tidily, together with the numerous sacks and baggage, in a corner of Storer's tent, and then gathering up a roll of guanaco furs, turned my attention to the making up of our beds. On the pampa it had always been a matter of some difficulty to discover ground smooth enough whereon to lay out the beds, on account of the rough, uneven nature of the plains; but on this occasion I had no cause to 170 grumble, for beneath the lofty spreading beech trees the smooth, velvety, mossy turf afforded the softest and most luxurious of feather beds in the world. Our couches were simple enough, as doubtless the reader imagines. The ground supplied the want of a bedstead or mattress, a single blanket occupied the place of a sheet, and our guanaco capas served as covering, being remarkable for their great warmth. With our saddles for our pillows, a complete and final touch was given to the whole arrangement, and on these hard beds, tired with our day's exertions, we would sleep as soundly and comfortably as though they were the most luxurious spring mattresses imaginable.

The beds arranged to my satisfaction, I next proceeded to go the round of the camp to see if everything was in order, on finding which to be the case, with a sigh of relief I felt that my work was over for the day, and the time for rest arrived.

Roughing it may be all very well in theory, but it is not so easy in practice. After a long tiring march, when you have been in the saddle twelve or thirteen hours under a hot sun, it is by no means a light task, on the arrival at your journey's end, to have to unload your horses, pitch your tents, cook your dinner, clean your saddles and 171 bridles, unpack and remove the baggage, and place everything in order and neatness, while it occupies a long and weary time. In England, on your return every day from hunting, you come home tired and weary, no doubt, but it is to a cosy hunting-box, where a warm room, a blazing fire, an easy arm-chair await you, with servants in plenty to attend to your wants, a refreshing hot bath, and the luxury of a clean change of clothes. But all this is not forthcoming on the pampa, and before you can rest, the whole business I have mentioned has to be gone through, everybody, no matter who it is, taking his or her share of work, while the thought of fatigue must be banished, and every one must put his shoulder to the wheel, and undertake and accomplish his separate task cheerfully and willingly. Only by so doing can things be kept going in the brisk orderly manner they should.

Our camp had been pitched close to the bank of a lovely little mountain stream, which made its appearance from out the thick woods that rose to a great height behind us. The sound of its splashing waters filled me with an irresistible longing for a plunge. Accordingly, armed with a rough towel, I proceeded to follow its winding course upwards, and through the dense foliage of 172 the beech trees I could make out its silver stream descending like a white streak from an immense height. Presently I arrived at a spot where, fed by a small cascade, a clear cool pool of water presented a most convenient and inviting appearance for a bath. I lost no time in undressing and indulging in the luxury of a plunge, which greatly refreshed and invigorated me after the long tiring day I had undergone.

On my return to the camp I found that dinner was quite ready. Nine hungry human beings, and nine still hungrier dogs, require a good substantial meal. Our menu that night was neither mean nor small. As it may interest my readers, I append it:—

Soup.—Guanaco Head, slices of Ostrich, and rice.—Roast ribs of Guanaco.

Fried Ostrich Picane. (Back of the ostrich, resembling a very rich Rumpsteak).

Roast Goose and Ducks.

Ostrich Wings.

Ostrich Liver and fat (consisting of square pieces of ostrich liver and fat, toasted on a stick).

Blood Pudding.

Dessert.—Califatés, Coffee, Maté, Tea, Biscuits.

The blood-pudding proved to be the dish about which François had observed so much 173 secrecy and mystery. It was certainly exceedingly good, and we were loud in praise of its merits. The ostrich liver and fat, a new dish also, was most acceptable, and that night we drank the health of François in a glass of whisky and water all round. Dinner over, we replenished the numerous fires that burned in a semicircle in front of our camp; and then, tired and weary, we sought our couches, and, canopied o'erhead by the rustling trees, with the bright moonlight shining down upon us, slept as sound and contented a sleep as the fatigues we had undergone entitled us to.

Friday, June 7, 2013

The Business of Being a Father: An Address by John D. Rockefeller in 1927


The Business of Being a Father: An Address by John D. Rockefeller in 1927
PRINCETON UNIVERSITY

Delivered on behalf
of Fathers of Princeton Undergraduates
at the General Meeting on Alumni Day
February 22, 1927


Three Reflections of a Father
Made in the Hope That They
May Be Suggestive to Other
Fathers

“The business of being a parent cannot be transferred.”

“If we want our boys to take a worthy part in the world’s work we must be their example.”

“In business we do not want men who just barely hold down the job. We want men who not only do the day’s work, but who are constantly looking for opportunities to make themselves more helpful. Shall we be satisfied with less and lower standards for our sons? How can we expect that their ideals will be high if our ideals for them are low?”

The Business of Being a Father
 
Mr. Chairman, Mr. President, members of the Princeton family: It is difficult to follow as speaker the President of the Senior Glass and Senior Council (Joseph Prendergast), especially when he has made so creditable a name for himself not only on the campus but in the outside world as well.

As I look over this large audience I am reminded of a story told about the Governor of a western state who had just been installed in his new office. It happened that he was invited to make his first speech as Governor, in a state penitentiary. He began in true campaign style by addressing his hearers as “Fellow Citizens.” But immediately realizing that they had all forfeited their citizenship, for the time at least, he became embarrassed, undertook to correct himself, and finally blurted out, “Well, fellows, anyhow I am so glad to see so many of you here tonight.” I, too, am glad to see so many fathers and sons of Princeton, and mothers as well, here today. I had not realized that the family was so large.

The Chairman has asked me to say “a few words” – “on behalf of fathers.” I shall punctiliously follow the first part of his request, and with equal punctiliousness decline to follow the second; for what father would presume to speak for any other father, especially with so many mothers present? However, I am glad to give you two or three reflections of one father in hope that they may be suggestive to other fathers.
 
THE first is that the business of being a parent cannot safely be transferred. Dr. Fosdick preached a sermon recently on “The Machine Age.” He took his text from the chapter in Exodus which describes how Moses on the journey through the wilderness assigned to one family so many wagons, for they were charged with the responsibility of the worship of the tabernacle. Their duties required their personal attention, the implements of their office were too precious to be entrusted to wagons, but had to be borne on their shoulders. “There are,” said Dr. Fosdick, “certain things even in this machine age, when mass production and standardization are the watchwords, so important that they demand personal attention and must be carried upon the shoulders of those to whom they are entrusted.” The business of being a father is surely one of those things. Many try to transfer it to men like those on my right (pointing to President Hibben and Major Landon), but even they cannot relieve us of the responsibility and privilege. Just as the child instinctively looks to his father for food,, clothing, and shelter, so he turns first to him for companionship. If we fathers respond to this natural yearning and become the pals of our boys, we may have their confidence and friendship from the outset. If, on the other hand, they find us so much occupied with our business or pleasure that we have no time for them and their interests, their youthful long for the companionship of their fathers is quickly chilled and their affection  and confidence promptly transferred to less worthy companions.

It is a wonderful thing, this business of being a father. As we get on in life I imagine many of us feel that to have given the world one clean, honest, God-fearing son, with an active sense of his responsibilities and obligations, is about as large a contribution to our day and generation as any father can hope to make.

MAY I introduce my second point by referring to my own father, who was just such a friend to me as I have been speaking of. In all the years of my close association with him, from earliest childhood, I cannot recall his having told me what to do and what not to do. But no influence in my life has been as powerful as the silent influence of his example.  Boys and girls of the present day are pretty shrewd and penetrating. We cannot live one thing and advocate another to them. We may think they are brutally frank, but we must do them the justice of admitting that they abhor hypocrisy. If we want our boys to take a worthy part in the world’s work we must be their example. To do so may at times be irksome and trying, it may cramp our style, but there is no alternative.

MY last thought is recalled by a talk which I had several years ago with the principal of the school which some of my boys attend. I asked him why the school did not demand higher standards of work of the boys. His reply was, “Because the parents do not back us up in it.” “Just the other day,” he said, “I had to drop one of the boys from an athletic team, because his standing was not satisfactory. The next day his father appeared and demanded why his son had been put off the team.” “Has he failed in anything, has he flunked any examination?” “No,” said the principal, “but he has not maintained a satisfactory standing; he has just barely stayed in the school.” Whereupon the father replied that that was all he wanted in the way of work from his son. He wanted him to be on the athletic team, he wanted him to participate in social affairs of the school, and so long as he held his grade that was satisfactory.

If this is the attitude of parents generally, educators may well throw up their hands in despair. Our boys will do no better than we hope and expect they will do. If we are satisfied with mediocrity for them, it is in mediocre places that we shall find them.

In business we do not want men who just barely hold down the job. We want men who not only do the day’s work, but who are constantly looking for opportunities to make themselves more helpful. Shall we be satisfied with less and with lower standards for our sons? How can we expect that their ideals will be high if our ideals for them are low?

DURING the war there was a sector on the French front that was being held at terrific sacrifice. Already preparations had been made for the removal to the rear of the wounded and supplies. Then down the road came a troop of soldiers, clear of eye, of swarthy countenance and dauntless mien, marching under the American flag. To the right and left, men with blanched faces put to their leader as he passed, the question, “Can you hold them? Can you hold them? . . . .”Can you hold them? replied he, “We are going through!” Shall we fathers be satisfied to have our sons just hold a passing mark in college or do we want them to go on through, getting the best they can from earnest effort put forth, and entering the world with well trained minds and bodies, to perform the full duty of a man, so succinctly described by the fist speaker (Earnest Cosma Bartell, winner of the Pyne Honor prize) as being “To worship God and serve man.”

Friday, May 24, 2013

SPIRIT AND SIGNIFICANCE: A Memorial Day Address by a future President in 1868


SPIRIT AND SIGNIFICANCE

DECORATION DAY ADDRESS

BY JAMES A. GARFIELD

Extract from an Oration delivered at Arlington, Va.,

May 30, 1868

I am oppressed with a sense of the impropriety of uttering words on this occasion. If silence is ever golden, it must be here beside the graves of fifteen thousand men, whose lives were more significant than speech, and whose death was a poem, the music of which can never be sung. With words we make promises, plight faith, praise virtue. Promises may not be kept; plighted faith may be broken; and vaunted virtue be only the cunning mask of vice. We do not know one promise these men made, one pledge they gave, one word they spoke; but we do know they summed up and perfected, by one supreme act, the highest virtues of men and citizens. For love of country they accepted death, and thus resolved all doubts, and made immortal their patriotism and their virtue. For the noblest man that lives, there still remains a conflict. He must still withstand the assaults of time and fortune, must still be assailed with temptations, before which lofty natures have fallen; but with these the conflict ended, the victory was won, when death stamped on them the great seal of heroic character, and closed a record which years can never blot.

I know of nothing more appropriate on this occasion than to inquire what brought these men here; what high motive led them to condense life into an hour, and to crown that hour by joyfully welcoming death? Let us consider.

Eight years ago this was the most unwarlike nation of the earth. For nearly fifty years no spot in any of these states had been the scene of battle. Thirty millions of people had an army of less than ten thousand men. The faith of our people in the stability and permanence of their institutions was like their faith in the eternal course of nature. Peace, liberty, and personal security were blessings as common and universal as sunshine and showers and fruitful seasons ; and all sprang from a single source, the old American principle that all owe due submission and obedience to the lawfully expressed will of the majority. This is not one of the doctrines of our political system it is the system itself. It is our political firmament, in which all other truths are set, as stars in Heaven. It is the encasing air, the breath of the Nation's life. Against this principle the whole weight of the rebellion was thrown. Its overthrow would have brought such ruin as might follow in the physical universe, if the power of gravitation were destroyed, and

"Nature's concord broke,
Among the constellations war were sprung,
Two planets, rushing from aspect malign
Of fiercest opposition, in mid-sky
Should combat, and their jarring spheres confound."

The Nation was summoned to arms by every high motive which can inspire men. Two centuries of freedom had made its people unfit for despotism. They must save their Government or miserably perish.

As a flash of lightning in a midnight tempest reveals the abysmal horrors of the sea, so did the flash of the first gun disclose the awful abyss into which rebellion was ready to plunge us. In a moment the fire was lighted in twenty million hearts. In a moment we were the most warlike Nation on the earth. In a moment we were not merely a people with an army we were a people in arms. The Nation was in column not all at the front, but all in the array.

I love to believe that no heroic sacrifice is ever lost; that the characters of men are molded and inspired by what their fathers have done; that treasured up in American souls are all the unconscious influences of the great deeds of the Anglo-Saxon race, from Agincourt to Bunker Hill. It was such an influence that led a young Greek, two thousand years ago, when musing on the battle of Marathon, to exclaim, ' the trophies of Miltiades will not let me sleep!' Could these men be silent in 1861; these, whose ancestors had felt the inspiration of battle on every field where civilization had fought in the last thousand years? Read their answer in this green turf. Each for himself gathered up the cherished purposes of life its aims and ambitions, its dearest affections and flung all, with life itself, into the scale of battle.

And now consider this silent assembly of the dead. What does it represent? Nay, rather, what does it not represent? It is an epitome of the war. Here are sheaves reaped in the harvest of death, from every battlefield of Virginia. If each grave had a voice to tell us what its silent tenant last saw and heard on earth, we might stand, with uncovered heads, and hear the whole story of the war. We should hear that one perished when the first great drops of the crimson shower began to fall, when the darkness of that first disaster at Manassas fell like an eclipse on the Nation; that another died of disease while wearily waiting for winter to end; that this one fell on the field, in sight of the spires of Richmond, little dreaming that the flag must be carried through three more years of blood before it should be planted in that citadel of treason; and that one fell when the tide of war had swept us back till the roar of rebel guns shook the dome of yonder Capitol, and re-echoed in the chambers of the Executive Mansion. We should hear mingled voices from the Rappahannock, the Rapidan, the Chickahominy, and the James ; solemn voices from the Wilderness, and triumphant shouts from the Shenandoah, from Petersburg, and the Five Forks, mingled with the wild acclaim of victory and the sweet chorus of returning peace. The voices of these dead will forever fill the land like holy benedictions.

What other spot so fitting for their last resting place as this, under the shadow of the Capitol saved by their valor? Here, where the grim edge of battle joined; here, where all the hope and fear and agony of their country centered; here let them rest, asleep on the Nation's heart, entombed in the Nation's love!

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

A Visit to a Harem of a Pasha in 1856


Extract from: CONSTANTINOPLE DURING THE CRIMEAN WAR. By LADY HORNBY. LONDON; RICHARD BEXTLEY, PUBLISHED IN ORDINARY TO HER MAJESTY. 1863.

LETTER XXXI.

VISIT TO THE HAREM OF PASHA. — NEWS FROM ENGLAND. — LADIES OF STANBOUL. — CHIEF OF THE EUNUCHS. — INTERIOR OP THE HAREM. – DRESSES OF THE LADIES. — CIRCASSIAN BEAUTY. — DRESSES. — HOSPITALITY IN THE HAREM.

Orta-kioy, March 20th.

My dear Lady Easthope,

By ten o'clock on Monday morning, Madame la Vicomtesse de Fitte de Soucy, Mrs. Brown, and I were skimming along the Bosphorus as fast as three splendid Greek rowers could take us, on our way to visit the Harem of --- Pasha. We landed at Tophana, and, guarded by the wisdom and sagacity of Vassili, reached Mysseri's in safety. Here we met M. Robolli, the Pasha's friend, who was to escort us.

The streets of Pera were crowded with loungers, five or six deep on each side, which rendered them almost impassable. It was the first day of the Catholic Greek Easter, and the Greeks seem to like nothing better than to block up the streets by staring at the English and French. It is really hard work to get along in such a crowd, and over loose and dirty paving-stones.

This morning, in addition to the holiday-making Greeks, a string of camels, led by a Turk in a green turban, and a diminutive donkey in a necklace of blue beads, stalked solemnly through the crowd, heavily laden with bales of wool. I do not think I have told you why the donkeys leading the camels are always so small. It is because in crossing a deep ford, the little fellow has to ride over on the back of one of these "ships of the desert:" his weight is therefore of consequence.

Mysseri's was as full of bustle as usual. Captain Haviland, the Queen's Messenger, had just arrived, and all were pressing round him for news from England. He had had a dreadful passage: for two days the ship had been beating about, unable to make the Port of Malta.

Almost all were murmuring at the news of "every prospect of peace." Numbers of officers have just arrived fresh from England after leave of absence, and all our people are in such splendid trim, and so much at home in this part of the world now, that they feel indignant at being prevented from winning a great share of glory for our own country.

Lord Stratford never put faith in the French alliance from the beginning, and now all the world sees that he was right, and that we have done all the hard work, they have taken all the praise.

Nobody believes in the good faith of Russia: least of all the Turks. Our Commissariat here is at last in perfect working order: there are immense stores at Scutari and Kulalee, ready for the Crimea or elsewhere at a few hours' notice. Admiral Slade says that our naval power just now is something wonderful. I don't wonder at many of our fine fellows who have got new commands being disappointed!

But for our Harem visit. We said good-bye to our friends at Mysseri's, stepped each into a sedan-chair (painted on the back with two comical-looking British lions shaking hands in the most violent manner), and with M. Robolli, mounted on a gallant grey, as our escort, passed up and down hill in the steep side-streets of Pera. Our stout Armenian chairmen hurried the three sedans through still more crowded streets, over the Bridge of Boats, and soon into the silent regions of Stamboul, where veiled women were stealing noiselessly along, and the closely-latticed windows and high walls gave one an Idea of a vast convent Many of these dark-eyed ladies had a veiled black slave behind them, carrying small baskets of hyacinths, jonquils, and other flowers, from the flower-markets. At last, after interminable windings and turnings, we arrived at the half-open gates of an immense courtyard, surrounded by a wall which would have graced a castle of old. I almost expected to see a horn hanging at the gate, with the challenge of the giant within, written in letters of brass. However, M. Robolli rode in without interruption, and the three sedans followed. Some Turks mending the pavement, stared at us with great curiosity: I dare say they thought the Pasha had bought three English slaves.

We were set down in a large circular hall, covered with matting, and were immediately surrounded by numbers of the Pasha's retainers, principally cavasses (a kind of freelance footmen) and chibouquejees (pipe-bearers). These gentlemen were entertaining themselves with a most minute inspection of us, when down the vast staircase (with two flights, à la Fontainebleau) came the Chief of the Eunuchs, as hideous and as angry as a Black could possibly be. He dispersed the mob right and left, evidently claiming us as Harem visitors. M. Robolli was conducted with us as &r as the first suite of rooms, and he then retired to the apartments of the Pasha, leaving us in the hands of this "bird of night," who was now joined by two others scarcely less monstrous and frightful than himself. These led us through several immensely large rooms, all covered with a rich gold-coloured matting, and with crimson divans at either end. No other furniture, except an occasional cabinet, filled with grotesque china, which I should have liked to stop and look at. The ceilings were all carved and painted barbarously enough, and more or less richly. There were no doors, but heavy hangings of crimson embroidered cloth and tapestry at the entrance of the numerous apartments.
 
At last our conductor stopped on the third and last floor, which is always the principal in Turkish houses, on account of the view. He lifted up the crimson arras, and with a hideous grin invited us to enter. Madame de Souci and Mrs. Brown, who are both very new arrivals at Constantinople, were rather nervous, and begged me to go in first. I had seen how sweetly gentle and kind the Turkish women are, and lifted up the charmed curtain with much more confidence and pleasure than I should have entered an assembly of Englishwomen. I shall not easily forget the sight which presented itself. We were in the midst of a vast apartment, with a lofty, dome-like room carved with gigantic wreaths of flowers and pomegranates. An immense staircase was on the other side, lighted by a window which reached from roof to floor, and in the projecting half-moon of the balusters was a beautiful white-marble fountain. The whole was covered with the same gold-coloured matting. Rich crimson divans under each enormous window at either end, and raised three steps. The window looking towards the streets of Stamboul was latticed, with round peep-holes; but the other was free from even a blind, and the beautiful blue Bosphorus and Sea of Marmora, with many stately ships upon them, the mountains in the distance, still glittering here and there with snow, — and nearer, the dark cypresses, and the minarets of Santa Sophia and numerous other mosques, lay in a grand picture of quite inconceivable beauty below it Here, evidently in a dreamy kind of reverie, sat the principal wife of ---- Pasha, surrounded by her slaves, some sitting on the steps beneath the divan, at her feet, others laughing together and strolling about. She rose as we approached, and gave her hand, after the English fashion, to each. The slaves all crowded round to look at us, and I assure you that the variety and brilliancy of their costumes was almost dazzling.

But I must first tell you the dress of the great lady. Her selma, or wide-sleeved under dress, (trousers, etc.) was of a delicate violet-colour, bound round the waist by a richly embroidered scarf; her shirt of silvery Broussa gauze. Over this was a magnificent jacket of amber-coloured cashmere, lined with the richest sable. On her head she wore a fez, bound round with a large plait of hair, which was fastened every here and there with immense rose-diamonds. A purple lily-flower was stuck straight down this plait, and shaded her forehead. Her earrings were of a single pendant emerald, set in a small spray of brilliants. She must have been of surpassing beauty, and was still strikingly handsome, with perfectly regular features, and skin dark but clear, a brow and upper-lip which would have graced a Roman Empress. Indeed we made up our minds at once that it was a Roman Empress she was like.

Rising, she motioned us to follow her, and the principal slaves officiously lifted the hangings of one of the numerous doorways surrounding this immense apartment. We entered a charming room, evidently a Turkish boudoir, with an immense window, divans all round it, and the same enchanting view. Here we three poor Englishwomen sat in a row, distressingly anxious to converse and make ourselves agreeable, and knowing about a dozen words between us, including the detestable "bono" and "no bono,''' which we were heartily sick and ashamed of. I tried Italian; Madame Ayesha, I will call her, shook her majestic head; Madame de Souci murmured a few graceful words of thanks in French; at which Madame Ayesha solemnly uttered the word "Oui;" and all the slaves, black men included, laughed with joy and pride at their mistress's accomplishments. This was accounted for by Pasha having been Minister at Vienna, and his speaking French.[1]

The hangings of the two doors were constantly being lifted, and more women as constantly trooping in to peep at us. Some giggled and ran away; others advanced boldly up the room, and evidently spoke to their mistress about us. Some sat themselves down cross-legged at the further end of the room, staring at us to their heart's content, and talking about us in whispers. We, meantime, were talking to each other about them. But presently a splendidly dressed black slave lifted the arras, and behind her appeared a most lovely young Circassian lady, who was, as we afterwards found out, the Pasha's second wife, and a present from the Sultan. She was very tall; but it is impossible to describe her winning beauty, or the exquisite grace of her movements. We were all three instantly charmed with her, and no longer regretted their not understanding English; it was such a pleasure to exclaim every now and then, "Oh you pretty creature!" "Did you ever see such a figure?" "Do look at the shape of her head and throat" "What a lovely mouth! and just listen to her voice." “There's a plait of glossy hair! quite down to her feet it must be when unbound!" This pretty creature, whom we instantly named "the fair Circassian," seemed to be on excellent terms with her majestic colleague. They saluted each other after their usual fashion, and she bowed to us very gracefully when we rose to do her honour, saying something which seemed to be a welcome. I must now tell you her dress. Her trousers, and the robe which twists round the feet, and trails behind, were of the most brilliant blue, edged with a little embroidery of white. Her cashmere jacket was of pale lilac (like the double primroses), lined with a gold-coloured fur. A delicate lilac gauze handkerchief was twined round her head; among the fringe of which, diamond heartseases, of the natural size, glittered on golden stalks which trembled at the slightest movement. Lilac slippers, embroidered with seed-pearls, completed her toilet No, I must not forget the shining plaits of black hair which escaped from the handkerchief and hung down behind, and a diamond of enormous size and great beauty, which glittered on one of her white fingers. We decided that this must be a present from the Sultan, and that it must also be one of the stones spoken of in Eastern fairy lore as "lighting the chamber," etc.

The two wives now began a little consultation, and from the word chibouque being frequently mentioned, we easily understood the question to be, as to the propriety of offering them to us. Both Madame de Souci and Mrs. Brown declared they should die in the attempt (they are both very delicate); but I, having been taught by no less a person than the Chief of the Bashi-Bazouks, declared that I could take fire or mx whifis, not only with resignation, but with pleasure. However, we were not put to the test, for it was evidently decided in the negative; and on the principal wife clapping her hands, some richly-dressed slaves brought in trays of conserves, and water in crystal cups. On the first tray is a glass vase of the conserve, with a beautiful silver basket on either side of it, one of which is filled with spoons of the same metal. You take a spoonful of sweetmeat, and then place the spoon which you have used, in the empty basket on the other side. Then another slave presents you with a richly-cut cup of water. After that the coffee-bearers enter. One of them holds a tray of a semicircular form, from which hangs a magnificently embroidered and fringed cloth of gold. Other slaves then take the coffee and present it to each guest. The outer cup is exactly like an egg-cup; inside this, is one of the finest china, which contains the beverage. We admired their outer cups immensely; they were of richly-chased gold, encircled with diamonds about an inch apart and the size of a large pea.

After drinking coffee with great gravity and decorum, the empty cups being carried away by the other attendants, the principal wife again made an attempt at conversation; but after having thanked her, and said what a beautiful view it was, in pretty decent Turkish, I came to a standstill, although our gestures expressive of regret, were extraordinarily eloquent, I must think, for Englishwomen and children of the North. "Madame Ayesha," as I must still call her, wanted to know if Madame de Souci was English (Inglis). She laughed and nodded; but still our hostess was evidently not satisfied, having no doubt heard the Vicomte spoken of as a Frenchman. We were sadly puzzled how to explain to her, but at last I held up two of my fingers, making them look as much like a loving couple as possible. One of them, I showed, was intended to represent Madame de Souci, — and touching it I repeated the word "Inglis," they all nodded and laughed. The other larger and more imposing one, I touched with great gravity and respect, uttering at the same time the words *'Adam (man), fez, Français," or "Her man, her fez, is French." If I had but known the Turkish word "kòja" (husband) then, it would have been all right.

This making of signs was very vexing and tantalizing, and the fair ladies of Stamboul evidently thought so too, for they made signs to us again that it was very grievous to them. Thereupon arose another little murmured consultation; the slaves laughed and clapped their hands, and two or three of the principal ones rushed out of the room. We could not think what they were fAout, and poor Madame de Souci became very nervous. "I hope to goodness they won't undress us," said she, colouring up, and every ringlet shaking with fright; "I was told that perhaps they would." "Never mind if they do," said I, laughing; "the room is very warm, and it would not hurt us. We must look out though that they do not divide our garments among them, and that they turn out these black men." Just at this moment, unluckily for the fears of poor Madame de Souci, our hostess made a sign to be allowed to look at her dress, which she pronounced to be "ckok ghuzel” — "very pretty"; the fair Circassian then quietly lifted up Mrs. Brown's dress to look at her petticoats. Poor Madame de Souci certainly thought that the dreaded moment had arrived. "But they are such pretty creatures," said I, jesting; "it will be like being undressed by fairies."

So now the heavy arras was lifted once more, and the slaves who had just left, entered, bearing three magnificent chibouques, and two large shawls. Which of us was to be rolled up in them when stripped of our close-fitting European garments? But to our relief, yet bewilderment, the slaves threw the shawl over their mistresses, over head and all, so that they, holding the thick folds beneath their chins, only showed bright eyes and the least tip of nose.

We were excessively diverted by an old lady (an ugly likeness of Liston, in green trousers and jacket) wrapping her head and shoulders up with extraordinary care and anxiety. "Evidently something in the shape of mankind is coming," said we; "can it be the Pasha?" That third chibouque is evidently intended for some one of consequence." "I suppose he won't offer to buy us before his wives." "I wonder if he is good-looking?" “I promised my husband to be home at four o'clock," said Mrs. Brown rather nervously.

All the young and pretty slaves had now disappeared, as silently and swiftly as so many mice, behind one of the hangings. Only the old and plain ones remained. Two huge black men entered, and stood, like sentinels, mute and upright, by the white fountain in the recess. "What dangerous person is coming?" said one of us: "with no cashmeres to protect us, how are we to stand such a blaze of manly beauty?" “Woe is me! is it the Paris, the Adonis, the Butes of the Turks?” said another. We could not help laughing, in spite of ourselves, when again the curtain was lifted, and, guarded by another Black, entered the meek, white-whiskered little beau of seventy-five, our kind escort M. Robolli. After he had kissed the ladies' hands, held out to him beneath the cashmeres, we said, "O dangerous Giaour, for our peace of mind, pray don't stay too long, nor attempt to peep under that yellow and green handkerchief!" The old lady however seemed determined not to run any risk of inspiring a hopeless attachment, for nothing hut the tip of a rubicund nose was visible.
 

PUBLIC TOILET

And now began an animated conversation. The presence of an interpreter was indeed a relief. And he took joyfully to the jewelled chibouque presented him, the ladies breathing out clouds of smoke in concert, and with a most wonderful grace. It was certainly a very striking scene,— the women-slaves standing and sitting around, in their bright and varied costumes, the Blacks watching our venerable Adonis and listening with the might of their enormous ears, and innumerable laughing eyes peeping from behind the arras, which was in a constant state of agitation. M. Robolli seemed quite to enjoy the state of excitement into which his presence had thrown the harem. He sipped coffee out of his jewelled cup, and evidently said many "obliging things" to the ladies, who received them very graciously, and then begged of him to tell us how welcome we were, and what pleasure our presence gave them, they touching their lips and forehead at the same time. We of course expressed ourselves very sensible of their goodness. They then begged we would take off our bonnets and make ourselves perfectly at home, which we did. They then asked us which we liked best, Stamboul, or London and Paris. I replied that Stamboul was most beautiful, but that at Paris and London we had more liberty, and the streets were better to walk about in. Then a little murmur of delight from the slaves ran round the apartment: "She says Stamboul is most beautiful!" They asked how many children we had, and said that Edie's blue eyes and fair hair must be very pretty, — why did I leave her? I begged M. Robolli to tell them that I feared the variable climate, and also that she was left with my mother. "Don't let them think that we English are unnatural mothers." We all entreated this.

"Madame Ayesha" then said how sorry she was not to be able to present her own daughter to us. It seems that she is a lovely girl of sixteen; her health is usually good, but she is subject at times to fits of depression and nervousness, amounting almost to insanity. These attacks usually lasted about three days, and this was one of these distressing visitations. She was lying quite alone; her mind, the poor mother said, strangely wandering, speaking of places which she had never seen as if she were there. Her old nurse was the only person whom she could bear to see near her. The mother seemed deeply afflicted when speaking of her beautiful but unhappy daughter, who, M. Robolli says, is charming when well, full of grace and liveliness. While he was talking of her and condoling with the mother, whose whole countenance changed to an expression of profound sorrow, the slaves sitting at her feet moaned and beat their breasts, and even the black men expressed the greatest sympathy: I assure you I saw tears in their yellow eyes.

It was impossible not to be much touched, in listening to this account of the beauty and gentleness and goodness of the poor young girl, alone in her misfortune, and seemingly beyond cure (at least here at Stamboul). Her mother looked the image of sorrowful despair, her lips trembled, and she could not utter another word. Wrapping her rich mantle round her, she sat in an attitude of queenly dejection, which Mrs. Siddons might have envied. These Eastern women are wonderful for grace. Of course we felt for, as well as admired her, and begged M. Robolli to say how sorry we were to hear of her sweet young daughter's affliction. She thanked us very earnestly and with a simple grace quite indescribable, a grace which makes you feel at once that you never beheld anything like it before. I said, "It is a very great sorrow for you, but there are others in the world still more unhappy: many who have lost all their children, and many also have ungrateful ones." She replied: "I often think that, and blame myself for giving way to so much grief. My child is good and lovely when she is well. I still have her with me, and Allah may one day please to restore her health and mind entirely." Here she puffed away vigorously at her chibouque, and, putting her hand on her heart, said that it was the very best of comforters in sorrow. We told her the story of poor Sir Edmund Lyons, losing his brave son just in the moment of victory; and two or three even sadder still of this war. She said, "How much England has suffered!" and several of the slaves cried (or pretended). We then changed the conversation which was becoming so melancholy; and they spoke of their summer palace on the Bosphorus, hoping that when they removed there we should visit them. "It is very lovely," they said; "there are hanging gardens with a stream leaping from rock to rock amongst the orange-trees; and the birds are always singing in the shade. There are also beautiful fountains, and rose-gardens; and we think you will like it" We were just saying what pleasure it would give us to visit them in their little Paradise, when a slave, richly attired, entered. She kissed the hem of "Madame Ayesha's" garment, touched her forehead with it, and then standing upright, with her arms folded over her breast, evidently delivered a message. "Madame Ayesha" explained to M. Robolli. "I am sorry to say I must go," he said; "another Turkish lady is coming to pay a visit, and although Madame admits me with her husband's consent, he being accustomed to European manners, any other Pasha might object to it; and she would not risk getting her friend into trouble." So off went M. Robolli, and off went the fair ladies' cashmeres, and "Madame Liston's" yellow and green handkerchief, and in ran all the pretty young slaves again, like a troop of fawns. I never saw so many women together in my life before; there seemed to be no end of them.

There was one little girl of extraordinary beauty, about twelve, and another a little older, almost as lovely. I never saw any living being, or any picture, so beautiful as the youngest. They told us that she was a daughter of the Pasha, by a slave who died last year, and who was also very lovely. The wives seemed as fond of this little houri as if she had been their own child, and were quite pleased at our great admiration of her. Poor child! I wonder what her fate will be.

While I was holding her little hand in mine, and looking at her lovely dark eyes with their deep fringes (you learn what "eyelashes" mean here), in came the belle, for whose sake M. Robolli was banished from the women's apartments. Although not beautiful, I think she was one of the most striking persons I ever beheld. She had none of the almost invariable softness of the Turkish women, but a face of the most marked talent and decision, and satire, and with a decisive, authoritative manner to correspond, and yet perfectly courtly, and with that exquisite ease and grace which is so enchanting in Turkish women. She had piercing black eyes, of immense size and lustre, with thick eyebrows; and hair of so raven a hue that I instantly thought of the younger and more flattering portraits of Charles II. A large, dark mole on the somewhat sallow cheek, made the picture still more striking, and added to this she had tied a rich lace handkerchief round her neck, just after the fashion of a beau of the Vandyke school, the ends hanging down. She held a lighted Havannah cigar between her fingers, and we admired her rich lace and muffles as she smoked with the air of a Rochester. Her dress and trousers were of amber-coloured silk, her waistcoat blue, embroidered richly in silver; round her slight waist she wore a many-coloured cashmere scarf, into which a massive gold chain and Turkish watch was comfortably tucked. Her hair was dressed in what they tell me is the old Turkish fashion, cut in steps, as it were, down the forehead; about an inch long by the parting, below that a little longer, by the ear longer still, — which has a very curious effect, and gives a rather masculine look. A light-blue handkerchief was twisted gracefully round her head, fastened on with six or seven splendid stars of brilliants. Between the two centre ones, on the forehead, was a long piece of white muslin, about the breadth of one's hand, which, thrown back over the head, fell nearly to her heels behind. A ruby of enormous size flashed and glistened on the finger.

To us she seemed a striking “picture of the East," as she sat pleasantly chatting with Pasha's wives. She and the chief wife sat, or rather reclined, on the divan. The beautiful Circassian seemed to feel cold, and half sat, half knelt by the enormous mangale (a kind of brazen tripod, filled with charcoal) in the centre of the room. I thought I had never seen anything more lovely and graceful, as she dreamily smoked her chibouque, and her great diamond flashed on her white hand, and she lifted up her head now and then to join in the conversation of the other two, or to laugh in the low, musical tone which had charmed us so much at first

Our visit seemed very like a tale of the Arabian Nights, especially when the slaves entered with tambourines, and, setting down cross-legged at the further end of the apartment, entertained us with a concert of "music." A more dreadful noise it is scarcely possible to imagine: you hardly know whether to laugh or to cry. A slave beats the tambourine, and leads the discord with her harsh and grating voice. The rest take up the howl one after another, and yell louder and louder as the story which they were reciting progresses. The fair Circassian seemed to take especial delight in the performance, and, whilst searching for bright little bits of charcoal in the mangale to re-light her chibouque, kept prompting them with verses which they seemed to have forgotten, — to our great misery and regret; for ears, teeth, and hair were set on edge and bristling up the wrong way, at this excruciating "treat."

It was at last put a stop to by two things: first, by Mrs. Brown's sinking back on the divan, pale as death, overcome by the noise and the mingled fumes of charcoal and chibouques; and secondly, by the entrance of a very fine baby with his two nurses. He looked so odd to us in his little trousers and fur jacket, and wearing a tiny fez, ornamented with a loop of diamonds. This young gentleman belonged to the visitor lady, and stretched out his arms to her very prettily. He was not at all shy with the Turkish ladies, or with the slaves, but evidently considered us veritable "Giaours," and would not come near us. The nurse who carried him was a lovely young woman: she was dressed in trousers and jacket of a bright green, and wore on her head a pale-yellow handkerchief, fastened with a large diamond. The other was an immense black woman, dressed entirely in scarlet silk, with a little edging of white, and a snow-white handkerchief bound round her woolly head. These two "nurses" would certainly create a sensation in Hyde Park. They appeared devoted to the baby.

But now our imperial-looking hostess made signs that we were to eat, at which announcement we were not at all sorry, the fresh air of the Bosphorus having given us famous appetites. We followed her accordingly into the lofty apartment, with the dome-like painted roof; the fair Circassian leading me affectionately by the hand, and the Pasha's lovely little daughter gently conducting Madame de Souci and Mrs. Brown. The principal slaves went before to lift the arras, and a motley group followed behind. We could hardly believe the scene to be real: "It is so like an Arabian Night!" we kept exclaiming, as we crossed with the brilliant group over the golden matting of that vast apartment

At the entrance of the dining-room stood two Arab slaves, richly attired. To each lady, as she entered, one of these held a beautiful silver bowl, while the other poured rose-water over her hands from a vase of the same richly-chased material. Two little slave-girls presented fine napkins, the ends embroidered in gold, on which we each shook the rose-water from our fingers. The dining-room was a most luxurious apartment, closely latticed, for it looked into the streets of Stamboul, but cheerful, and rich in crimson divans and carved and painted flowers on walls and ceiling. All had been done that was possible to make the cage bearable. —  Pasha's harem is, I am told, one of the most "fashionable," which accounted for our seeing a European dining-table, adorned with a handsome centre-piece, and four beautiful vases of flowers and fruit, after the French fashion.

The dinner-service was of rare and beautiful china; the silver knives and forks were extremely handsome; the servetti delicately fine; the flowers exquisitely arranged, and mingled with oranges and lemons, in the Eastern fashion; the slaves were standing round, three or four deep, awaiting our slightest sign: we felt still more in the land of dreams.

First of all they placed to each guest a sparkling water-bottle and glass. Then a fine china plate containing a flat roll of a kind of rye-bread, called semeet, quite new and warm, and covered with a small seed, which, not being a canary or a linnet, I objected to. Then soup was served, — a great novelty in a harem: it was most excellent, — chicken and vermicelli. Then came a dish of pilauf of chicken and rice, done brown. I sat next to the chief wife, on her right hand; as the slave held the dish, she pointed out the nicest pieces, begging of me to take them. The fair Circassian sat opposite to me. I was curious to see if they really seemed to like the modem innovation of knives and forks. For the first few minutes they used them, — evidently to do as we did; but the Circassian beauty, foiling to secure the particular piece of chicken she coveted with a troublesome fork and spoon, threw those incompetent auxiliaries down, and grubbed successfully, and to her entire satisfaction, with her fingers. She then looked at me and laughed; and showing me how to take a piece of bread between my fingers, begged us to eat à la Turque, which they were all doing themselves, fast and furious; and, to please them, we accordingly picked a few chicken-bones with our fingers.

We had all three been enchanted with the fair Circassian, as I have told you, — with her beauty, her winning, yet lofty manners, and exquisite grace; we had seen her smoke, and admired her still; we had even forgiven her for loving the barbarous noise in the "concert of music" but to see her lick her fingers up to the last joint after each dish, — to see her lick her favourite tortoise-shell spoon bright after successive, and never-to-be-believed enormous platefuls of sweet pancakes daubed with honey, and tarts too luscious for the Knave of Hearts! — this was too much for Venus herself to have done with impunity: we were perfectly disenchanted long before the feast was over. The rest were not quite so bad (excepting “Madame Liston," who might as well have had a trough at once); but we began to feel rather sick after the first few dishes were dispatched, and the animal passions of some of the ladies began to be roused by their favourite sweets and jellies, which they tore to pieces with their fingers, and threw down their throats in large lumps. The jester waited at table, presenting the principal dishes with jokes which caused bursts of laughter from the ladies and the slaves in attendance, who seem perfectly at home, and on very free-and-easy terms with their mistresses, notwithstanding their complete submission to them. The jester was a wild and most extraordinary-looking woman, with an immensity of broad humour and drollery in her face. We thought it quite as well that we could not understand the jokes at which the fair Circassian, between the intervals of licking her fingers and spoon, and popping tit-bits on our plates, laughed so complacently, and which sometimes obliged the Arabs and eunuchs at the door to dive under the arras to conceal their uncontrollable fits of mirth.

It was certainly a most singular dinner-party. The dishes of course were innumerable; the chicken and rice, and the cabeb, we enjoyed; the rest were very sweet, and very fat; and we were delighted when our hostess rose, and again the refreshing rose-water was handed to us.

We then returned to the luxurious divan of the smaller room. Again the slaves handed coffee in jewelled cups; again the fair Circassian looked dreamy and lovely, hanging fondly over her chibouque; again we admired the blue Bosphorus, and the distant mountains, and the dark cypresses of Stamboul; again we asked for M. Robolli, and again the fair ladies were enveloped in their cashmeres; the blacks standing mute, watchful, and listening. We repeated our thanks and adieus; the slaves lifted the arras. M. Robolli kissed the hands of the kind and veiled ladies. The Blacks conducted us down the broad staircase, crowding boisterously around us, and muttering the word bakshish.

Our visit to the Harem was over. M. Robolli mounted his "gallant grey," and rode back with us through the latticed streets and over the Bridge of Boats to Pera. It seemed as if we had had a dream.



[1] As the Turks so particularly forbid any sort of portraits of their women, I have in this edition left out the real name of the Pasha and of the ladies.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Native American Chiefs visit Washington DC in 1821


Extract from: Early Western Travels, 1748-1846, A Series of Annotated Reprints of some of the bestand rarest contemporary volumes of travel, descriptive of the Aborigines and Social and Economic Conditions in the Middle and Far West, during the Period of Early American Settlement Edited with Notes, Introductions, Index, etc., by Reuben Gold Thwaites, LL.D.,  Editor of "The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents," "Original Journals of the Lewis and Clark Expedition," "Hennepin's New Discovery," etc. Volume XII Part II (1820) of Faux's Memorable Days in America, 1819-20; and Welby's Visit to North America, 1819-20. Cleveland, Ohio, The Arthur H. Clark Company,1905

 
From Williams Faux's Memorable days in America, November 27, 1818-July 21, 1820

4th.—To tea with J. C. Wright, Esq., to meet a young man, Mr. Dawson, who is giving up a school here to go as "Teacher to the Cherokee nation of Indians." Much enthusiasm takes him there; little will be needed to bring him back again. Since my return, Washington has been visited by some very distant and interesting tribes of Indians, with the following account of whom I have been favoured by a friend residing there.

Some account of the Indians who visited all the Chief Cities in the Eastern States, and made a long stay in Washington in the winter of 1821.

These Indians were the chiefs and half-chiefs of tribes from the most western part of this continent with which we are at all acquainted, and came under the guidance of Major O'Fallan[1] from the Counsel Bluffs.[2]  All of them were men of large stature, very muscular, having fine open countenances, with the real noble Roman nose, dignified in their manners, and peaceful and quiet in their habits. There was no instance of drunkenness among them during their stay here. The circumstances which led to their visit were singular. A missionary, who had been amongst them a few years back, on renewing his visit recently, found an old chief, with whom he was acquainted, degraded from his rank, and another appointed in his place. This led to inquiries after the cause, which proved to be that this chief having, during a considerable absence from his tribe, visited some of the cities of the whites, carried back such a report of their houses, ships, numbers, wealth, and power, that they disbelieved his account, and degraded him as a man unworthy of being longer their chief. They inquired of their missionaries, who confirmed the statement, and they met in council with other tribes, and resolved that a deputation should, in company with the representative of the great father, "see if things were so," and if they were, the chief should be reinstated. They have returned, saying the "half was not told them." Red Jacket[3] (of whom you have heard) used to say, that "the great spirit was too great a being to overlook red men; that he listened to the talk of red men as well as to the talk of white men;" but these natives of the forest thought the great spirit favoured white men more than red. An anecdote is related of one of the chiefs (a Pawnee) which is a well authenticated fact, and recorded by Dr. Morse in his account of visits to the western regions.[4] The tribe of the Pawnees had taken a woman prisoner from a neighbouring tribe with whom they were at war, and, as was their custom, they made every preparation to offer her a sacrifice to the great spirit. Every thing was prepared, the wood, the green withes, and the fire, and the victim, when this chief suddenly flew and seized her, carried her under his arm to a neighbouring thicket, where  he had prepared horses for her and himself, and riding away at speed, he, after three days' travelling through the woods, returned her in safety to her tribe and friends. This event was considered by the Pawnee tribe as an interference of the great spirit in her favour, and on the return of the chief no questions were asked him on that subject, nor has a woman been offered a sacrifice by that tribe since.


Petalesharro, a Pawnee Brave. 1822 painting by Charles Bird King. On display in the White House Library

As a compliment justly due to his gallant exploit, a number of ladies in this city had a medal made, and presented to him in due form, in the presence of all the Indians; on one side of which was represented the preparation for the sacrifice, and on the reverse the chief running off with a woman under his arm, and two horses stationed at a short distance, surmounted by this inscription, "To the bravest of the Braves," (the Pawnees are also called the Braves). These Indians excited so much interest from their dignified personal appearance, and from their peaceful manner, that they received a great number of rich presents, sufficient to fill six large boxes in New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Washington; these were forwarded before they left us. Their portraits, which are gone with them, were taken in oil by Mr. King in their native costume, buffalo skins, with the hair inside, turned back at the neck and breast, which looked very handsome, like fur collars. Eight, however, the chiefs and the squaw, Mr. King copied and keeps himself.[5] He received 400 dollars from Uncle Sam for it. There was a notice in the papers that the Indians would dance and display their feats in front of the President's house on a certain day, which they did to at least 6,000 persons. They shewed their manner of sitting in council, their dances, their war whoop, with the noises, gesticulations, &c. of the centinels on the sight of an approaching enemy. They were in a state of perfect nudity, except a piece of red flannel round the waist and passing between the legs. They afterwards performed at the house of his Excellency M. Hyde de Neuville. They were painted horribly, and exhibited the operation of scalping and tomahawking in fine style.

The Otta half-chief[6] and his squaw have taken tea with and frequently visited us. She was a very good natured, mild woman, and he shewed great readiness in acquiring our language, being inquisitive, retaining any thing that he was once informed, and imitating admirably the tones of every word. He spent the evening with us before they finally left the city. I took himself and squaw into Dr. Barber's room, and opened gently the skeleton case. He looked slyly in, and the wife wanted to look, but he put himself in an attitude to represent a dead person, and said, "no good, no good." She still wanted to see, but he would not let her. Three others came afterwards wanting to see it, who, when I opened it, raised themselves up in a dignified manner and said, "very good," one of them taking hold of the hand said, "how you do."[7] The Otta half-chief and squaw afterwards saw it together and were very well pleased. Our children were all full of play with them, and the squaw nursed the younger ones. Margaret wanted to go with them. The calumet[8] of peace (the tomahawk pipe and their own sumach tobacco) frequently went round, and they expressed a wish to see us again.

I have recorded much of the vocabulary of these Indians, and would transcribe it, but have not room. They count by tens as we do, for instance, noah, two; taurny, three; crabraugh, ten; crabraugh noah, twenty; crabraugh taurny, thirty, &c. They hold polygamy as honourable; one wife, no good; three, good; four, very good. In their talks with the residents they shew no wish to adopt our habits.

5th.—To dine with Dr. Dawes at his poor, worn out farm, of which he is already tired. The Doctor seems one of the best Englishmen I have met in America.

 

[1] This was Benjamin O'Fallon, whose mother was a sister of George Rogers Clark, his father being Dr. James O'Fallon, a Revolutionary officer and prominent among Kentucky pioneers.—Ed.
[2] For the early history of Council Bluffs, see Brackenridge's Journal, volume vi of our series, note 28.—Ed.
[3] Red Jacket, or Sagoyewatha (1751-1830), was a Seneca chief, and after the death of Brant the most prominent Indian among the Six Nations. He fought on the American side in the War of 1812-15, and refused to be drawn into Tecumseh's conspiracy. He is best known for his eloquent speech against ratifying the treaty of Fort Stanwix (1784), which ceded western New York to the whites. In later life he was a helpless drunkard.—Ed.
[4] Jedidiah Morse was born in Woodstock, Connecticut (1761). Being graduated from Yale College he studied for the ministry, and in 1785 was licensed to preach. Four years later he became pastor of a Congregational church in Charleston, remaining there until 1820, when he removed to New Haven, and there preached until his death in 1826. He was interested in civilizing and christianizing the Indians. In 1820 the secretary of war deputed him to visit the western tribes and suggest measures for their improvement. The results of his investigation were published in his Report to the Secretary of War on Indian Affairs (New Haven, 1822). He also published some text-books on geography, which were used extensively, and gained for him the title of "Father of American geography."—Ed.
[5] These portraits of the Pawnee chiefs were hung in the Indian gallery in the department of war, being later destroyed by fire. Three of them are reproduced in color in McKenney's History of the Indian Tribes of North America (Philadelphia, 1855), i, pp. iii, 33, 37, 143. The artist, Charles B. King (1786-1862), was a native of Rhode Island. For forty years his studio in Washington was frequented by the prominent men of the day.—Ed.
[6] For the Oto Indians, see Bradbury's Travels, volume v of our series, note 42.—Ed.
[7] I made them understand the man was hung for murder, which seemed to please them.—Faux.
[8] Concerning the calumet of peace, consult Long's Voyages, in our volume ii, note 43.—Ed.