Letters from the Cape by Lucy Duff Gordon (ebook reader computer txt) 📖
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got in before the wind became a hurricane, which it did later. We were warmly welcomed by Mrs. R-; and here I am in my old room, looking over the beautiful bay, quite at home again. It blew all yesterday, and having rather a sore-throat I stayed in bed, and to-day is all bright and beautiful. But Capetown looks murky after Caledon and Worcester; there is, to my eyes, quite a haze over the mountains, and they look far off and indistinct. All is comparative in this world, even African skies. At Caledon, the most distant mountains, as far as your eye can reach, look as clear in every detail as the map on your table--an appearance utterly new to European eyes.
I gave Sabaal 1l. for his eight days' service as driver, as a Drinkgelt, and the worthy fellow was in ecstasies of gratitude. Next morning early, he appeared with a present of bananas, and his little girl dressed from head to foot in brand-new clothes, bought out of my money, with her wool screwed up extremely tight in little knots on her black little head (evidently her mother is the blackest of Caffres or Mozambiques). The child looked like a Caffre, and her father considers her quite a pearl. I had her in, and admired the little thing loud enough for him to hear outside, as I lay in bed. You see, I too was to have my share in the pleasure of the new clothes. This readiness to believe that one will sympathize with them, is very pleasing in the Malays.
March 15.
I went to see my old Malay friends and to buy a water-melon. They were in all the misery of Ramadan. Betsy and pretty Nassirah very thin and miserable, and the pious old Abdool sitting on a little barrel waiting for 'gun-fire'--i.e. sunset, to fall to on the supper which old Betsy was setting out. He was silent, and the corners of his mouth were drawn down just like -'s at an evening party.
I shall go to-morrow to bid the T-s good-bye, at Wynberg. I was to have spent a few days there, but Wynberg is cold at night and dampish, so I declined that. She is a nice woman--Irish, and so innocent and frank and well-bred. She has been at Cold Bokke Veld, and shocked her puritanical host by admiring the naked Caffres who worked on his farm. He wanted them to wear clothes.
We have been amused by the airs of a naval captain and his wife, who are just come here. They complained that the merchant-service officers spoke FAMILIARLY to their children on board. Quel audace! When I think of the excellent, modest, manly young fellows who talked very familiarly and pleasantly to me on board the St. Lawrence, I long to reprimand these foolish people.
Friday, 21st.--I am just come from prayer, at the Mosque in Chiappini Street, on the outskirts of the town. A most striking sight. A large room, like a county ball-room, with glass chandeliers, carpeted with common carpet, all but a space at the entrance, railed off for shoes; the Caaba and pulpit at one end; over the niche, a crescent painted; and over the entrance door a crescent, an Arabic inscription, and the royal arms of England! A fat jolly Mollah looked amazed as I ascended the steps; but when I touched my forehead and said, 'Salaam Aleikoom', he laughed and said, 'Salaam, Salaam, come in, come in.' The faithful poured in, all neatly dressed in their loose drab trousers, blue jackets, and red handkerchiefs on their heads; they left their wooden clogs in company, with my shoes, and proceeded, as it appeared, to strip. Off went jackets, waistcoats, and trousers, with the dexterity of a pantomime transformation; the red handkerchief was replaced by a white skullcap, and a long large white shirt and full white drawers flowed around them. How it had all been stuffed into the trim jacket and trousers, one could not conceive. Gay sashes and scarves were pulled out of a little bundle in a clean silk handkerchief, and a towel served as prayer-carpet. In a moment the whole scene was as oriental as if the Hansom cab I had come in existed no more. Women suckled their children, and boys played among the clogs and shoes all the time, and I sat on the floor in a remote corner. The chanting was very fine, and the whole ceremony very decorous and solemn. It lasted an hour; and then the little heaps of garments were put on, and the congregation dispersed, each man first laying a penny on a very curious little old Dutch- looking, heavy, iron-bound chest, which stood in the middle of the room.
I have just heard that the post closes to-night and must say farewell--a rivederci.
LETTER XI
Capetown, March 20th.
Dearest mother,
Dr. Shea says he fears I must not winter in England yet, but that I am greatly improved--as, indeed, I could tell him. He is another of the kind 'sea doctors' I have met with; he came all the way from Simon's Bay to see me, and then said, 'What nonsense is that?' when I offered him a fee. This is a very nice place up in the 'gardens', quite out of the town and very comfortable. But I regret Caledon. A- will show you my account of my beautiful journey back. Worcester is a fairy-land; and then to catch tortoises walking about, and to see 'baviaans', and snakes and secretary birds eating them! and then people have the impudence to think I must have been 'very dull!' Sie merken's nicht, that it is THEY who are dull.
Dear Dr. Hawtrey! he must have died just as I was packing up the first Caffre Testament for him! I felt his death very much, in connexion with my father; their regard for each other was an honour to both. I have the letter he wrote me on J-'s marriage, and a charming one it is.
I took Mrs. A- a drive in a Hansom cab to-day out to Wynberg, to see my friends Captain and Mrs. T-, who have a cottage under Table Mountain in a spot like the best of St. George's Hill. Very dull too; but as she is really a lady, it suits her, and Capetown does not. I was to have stayed with them, but Wynberg is cold at night. Poor B-'s wife is very ill and won't leave Capetown for a day. The people here are wunderlich for that. A lady born here, and with 7,000l. a year, has never been further than Stellenbosch, about twenty miles. I am asked how I lived and what I ate during my little excursion, as if I had been to Lake Ngami. If only I had known how easy it all is, I would have gone by sea to East London and seen the Knysna and George district, and the primaeval African forest, the yellow wood, and other giant trees. However, 'For what I have received,' &c., &c. No one can conceive what it is, after two years of prison and utter languor, to stand on the top of a mountain pass, and enjoy physical existence for a few hours at a time. I felt as if it was quite selfish to enjoy anything so much when you were all so anxious about me at home; but as that is the best symptom of all, I do not repent.
S- has been an excellent travelling servant, and really a better companion than many more educated people; for she is always amused and curious, and is friendly with the coloured people. She is quite recovered. It is a wonderful climate--sans que cela paraisse. It feels chilly and it blows horridly, and does not seem genial, but it gives new life.
To-morrow I am going with old Abdool Jemaalee to prayers at the Mosque, and shall see a school kept by a Malay priest. It is now Ramadan,. and my Muslim friends are very thin and look glum. Choslullah sent a message to ask, 'Might he see the Missis once more? He should pray all the time she was on the sea.' Some pious Christians here would expect such horrors to sink the ship. I can't think why Mussulmans are always gentlemen; the Malay coolies have a grave courtesy which contrasts most strikingly with both European vulgarity and negro jollity. It is very curious, for they only speak Dutch, and know nothing of oriental manners. I fear I shall not see the Walkers again. Simon's Bay is too far to go and come in a day, as one cannot go out before ten or eleven, and must be in by five or half-past. Those hours are gloriously bright and hot, but morning and night are cold.
I am so happy in the thought of sailing now so very soon and seeing you all again, that I can settle to nothing for five minutes. I now feel how anxious and uneasy I have been, and how I shall rejoice to get home. I shall leave a letter for A-, to go in April, and tell him and you what ship I am in. I shall choose the SLOWEST, so as not to reach England and face the Channel before June, if possible. So don't be alarmed if I do not arrive till late in June. Till then good-bye, and God bless you, dearest mother--Auf frohes Wiedersehn.
LETTER XII
Capetown, Sunday, March 23d.
It has been a REAL hot day, and threatened an earthquake and a thunderstorm; but nothing has come of it beyond sheet lightning to- night, which is splendid over the bay, and looks as if repeated in a grand bush-fire on the hills opposite. The sunset was glorious. That rarest of insects, the praying mantis, has just dropped upon my paper. I am thankful that, not being an entomologist, I am dispensed from the sacred duty of impaling the lovely green creature who sits there, looking quite wise and human. Fussy little brown beetles, as big as two lady-birds, keep flying into my eyes, and the musquitoes are rejoicing loudly in the prospect of a feast. You will understand by this that both windows are wide open into the great verandah,--very unusual in this land of cold nights.
April 4th.--I have been trying in vain to get a passage home. The Camperdown has not come. In short, I am waiting for a chance vessel, and shall pack up now and be ready to go on board at a day's notice.
I went on the last evening of Ramadan to the Mosque, having heard there was a grand 'function'; but there were only little boys lying about on the floor, some on their stomachs, some on their backs, higgledy-piggledy (if it be not profane to apply the phrase to young Islam), all shouting their prayers a tue tete. Priests, men, women, and English crowded in and out in the exterior division. The English behaved a l'Anglaise--pushed each other, laughed, sneered, and made a disgusting display of themselves. I asked a stately priest, in a red turban, to explain the affair to me, and in a few minutes found myself supplied by one Mollah with a chair, and by another with a cup of tea--was, in short, in the midst
I gave Sabaal 1l. for his eight days' service as driver, as a Drinkgelt, and the worthy fellow was in ecstasies of gratitude. Next morning early, he appeared with a present of bananas, and his little girl dressed from head to foot in brand-new clothes, bought out of my money, with her wool screwed up extremely tight in little knots on her black little head (evidently her mother is the blackest of Caffres or Mozambiques). The child looked like a Caffre, and her father considers her quite a pearl. I had her in, and admired the little thing loud enough for him to hear outside, as I lay in bed. You see, I too was to have my share in the pleasure of the new clothes. This readiness to believe that one will sympathize with them, is very pleasing in the Malays.
March 15.
I went to see my old Malay friends and to buy a water-melon. They were in all the misery of Ramadan. Betsy and pretty Nassirah very thin and miserable, and the pious old Abdool sitting on a little barrel waiting for 'gun-fire'--i.e. sunset, to fall to on the supper which old Betsy was setting out. He was silent, and the corners of his mouth were drawn down just like -'s at an evening party.
I shall go to-morrow to bid the T-s good-bye, at Wynberg. I was to have spent a few days there, but Wynberg is cold at night and dampish, so I declined that. She is a nice woman--Irish, and so innocent and frank and well-bred. She has been at Cold Bokke Veld, and shocked her puritanical host by admiring the naked Caffres who worked on his farm. He wanted them to wear clothes.
We have been amused by the airs of a naval captain and his wife, who are just come here. They complained that the merchant-service officers spoke FAMILIARLY to their children on board. Quel audace! When I think of the excellent, modest, manly young fellows who talked very familiarly and pleasantly to me on board the St. Lawrence, I long to reprimand these foolish people.
Friday, 21st.--I am just come from prayer, at the Mosque in Chiappini Street, on the outskirts of the town. A most striking sight. A large room, like a county ball-room, with glass chandeliers, carpeted with common carpet, all but a space at the entrance, railed off for shoes; the Caaba and pulpit at one end; over the niche, a crescent painted; and over the entrance door a crescent, an Arabic inscription, and the royal arms of England! A fat jolly Mollah looked amazed as I ascended the steps; but when I touched my forehead and said, 'Salaam Aleikoom', he laughed and said, 'Salaam, Salaam, come in, come in.' The faithful poured in, all neatly dressed in their loose drab trousers, blue jackets, and red handkerchiefs on their heads; they left their wooden clogs in company, with my shoes, and proceeded, as it appeared, to strip. Off went jackets, waistcoats, and trousers, with the dexterity of a pantomime transformation; the red handkerchief was replaced by a white skullcap, and a long large white shirt and full white drawers flowed around them. How it had all been stuffed into the trim jacket and trousers, one could not conceive. Gay sashes and scarves were pulled out of a little bundle in a clean silk handkerchief, and a towel served as prayer-carpet. In a moment the whole scene was as oriental as if the Hansom cab I had come in existed no more. Women suckled their children, and boys played among the clogs and shoes all the time, and I sat on the floor in a remote corner. The chanting was very fine, and the whole ceremony very decorous and solemn. It lasted an hour; and then the little heaps of garments were put on, and the congregation dispersed, each man first laying a penny on a very curious little old Dutch- looking, heavy, iron-bound chest, which stood in the middle of the room.
I have just heard that the post closes to-night and must say farewell--a rivederci.
LETTER XI
Capetown, March 20th.
Dearest mother,
Dr. Shea says he fears I must not winter in England yet, but that I am greatly improved--as, indeed, I could tell him. He is another of the kind 'sea doctors' I have met with; he came all the way from Simon's Bay to see me, and then said, 'What nonsense is that?' when I offered him a fee. This is a very nice place up in the 'gardens', quite out of the town and very comfortable. But I regret Caledon. A- will show you my account of my beautiful journey back. Worcester is a fairy-land; and then to catch tortoises walking about, and to see 'baviaans', and snakes and secretary birds eating them! and then people have the impudence to think I must have been 'very dull!' Sie merken's nicht, that it is THEY who are dull.
Dear Dr. Hawtrey! he must have died just as I was packing up the first Caffre Testament for him! I felt his death very much, in connexion with my father; their regard for each other was an honour to both. I have the letter he wrote me on J-'s marriage, and a charming one it is.
I took Mrs. A- a drive in a Hansom cab to-day out to Wynberg, to see my friends Captain and Mrs. T-, who have a cottage under Table Mountain in a spot like the best of St. George's Hill. Very dull too; but as she is really a lady, it suits her, and Capetown does not. I was to have stayed with them, but Wynberg is cold at night. Poor B-'s wife is very ill and won't leave Capetown for a day. The people here are wunderlich for that. A lady born here, and with 7,000l. a year, has never been further than Stellenbosch, about twenty miles. I am asked how I lived and what I ate during my little excursion, as if I had been to Lake Ngami. If only I had known how easy it all is, I would have gone by sea to East London and seen the Knysna and George district, and the primaeval African forest, the yellow wood, and other giant trees. However, 'For what I have received,' &c., &c. No one can conceive what it is, after two years of prison and utter languor, to stand on the top of a mountain pass, and enjoy physical existence for a few hours at a time. I felt as if it was quite selfish to enjoy anything so much when you were all so anxious about me at home; but as that is the best symptom of all, I do not repent.
S- has been an excellent travelling servant, and really a better companion than many more educated people; for she is always amused and curious, and is friendly with the coloured people. She is quite recovered. It is a wonderful climate--sans que cela paraisse. It feels chilly and it blows horridly, and does not seem genial, but it gives new life.
To-morrow I am going with old Abdool Jemaalee to prayers at the Mosque, and shall see a school kept by a Malay priest. It is now Ramadan,. and my Muslim friends are very thin and look glum. Choslullah sent a message to ask, 'Might he see the Missis once more? He should pray all the time she was on the sea.' Some pious Christians here would expect such horrors to sink the ship. I can't think why Mussulmans are always gentlemen; the Malay coolies have a grave courtesy which contrasts most strikingly with both European vulgarity and negro jollity. It is very curious, for they only speak Dutch, and know nothing of oriental manners. I fear I shall not see the Walkers again. Simon's Bay is too far to go and come in a day, as one cannot go out before ten or eleven, and must be in by five or half-past. Those hours are gloriously bright and hot, but morning and night are cold.
I am so happy in the thought of sailing now so very soon and seeing you all again, that I can settle to nothing for five minutes. I now feel how anxious and uneasy I have been, and how I shall rejoice to get home. I shall leave a letter for A-, to go in April, and tell him and you what ship I am in. I shall choose the SLOWEST, so as not to reach England and face the Channel before June, if possible. So don't be alarmed if I do not arrive till late in June. Till then good-bye, and God bless you, dearest mother--Auf frohes Wiedersehn.
LETTER XII
Capetown, Sunday, March 23d.
It has been a REAL hot day, and threatened an earthquake and a thunderstorm; but nothing has come of it beyond sheet lightning to- night, which is splendid over the bay, and looks as if repeated in a grand bush-fire on the hills opposite. The sunset was glorious. That rarest of insects, the praying mantis, has just dropped upon my paper. I am thankful that, not being an entomologist, I am dispensed from the sacred duty of impaling the lovely green creature who sits there, looking quite wise and human. Fussy little brown beetles, as big as two lady-birds, keep flying into my eyes, and the musquitoes are rejoicing loudly in the prospect of a feast. You will understand by this that both windows are wide open into the great verandah,--very unusual in this land of cold nights.
April 4th.--I have been trying in vain to get a passage home. The Camperdown has not come. In short, I am waiting for a chance vessel, and shall pack up now and be ready to go on board at a day's notice.
I went on the last evening of Ramadan to the Mosque, having heard there was a grand 'function'; but there were only little boys lying about on the floor, some on their stomachs, some on their backs, higgledy-piggledy (if it be not profane to apply the phrase to young Islam), all shouting their prayers a tue tete. Priests, men, women, and English crowded in and out in the exterior division. The English behaved a l'Anglaise--pushed each other, laughed, sneered, and made a disgusting display of themselves. I asked a stately priest, in a red turban, to explain the affair to me, and in a few minutes found myself supplied by one Mollah with a chair, and by another with a cup of tea--was, in short, in the midst
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