Distinctive Box Markings.
When a traveller has to employ (as is most generally the case in wild countries) servants who cannot read, it is as well to mark his boxes with some rudely-drawn pictorial sign, which should, if possible, have some relation to the contents; though this is not a matter of absolute necessity, so long as the owner himself knows what is in each and what distinguishing mark is placed upon it. We give a few specimens, which will sufficiently illustrate our meaning; and any number may be devised if necessary, such objects being chosen as are most likely to be familiar to the servants employed: thus, on maritime or fishing stations, different vessels, cutters, luggers, schooners, brigs, barques, or ships, or parts of vessels, as guns, anchors, capstans, windlasses, various knots, as the reef-knot, bowline, &c., remarkable and at the same time familiar forms of fish, or implements used in catching them, as hooks, large and small hand-leads, harpoons, grains, nets, &c., would be appropriate; while in hunting or pastoral countries various animals—the ox, the horse, the sheep or goat, the elephant, the camel, the giraffe, the lion, and many others—would naturally be chosen. One box might bear the figure of a man, another of a woman; the tool chest might have a saw or an axe; a powder horn would indicate the box containing gunpowder; while others, holding round or conical bullets, cartridges, or small shot, might be marked with their peculiar sign; clothing might be indicated by a jacket and trousers.
The late eminent and amiable Dr. Holden, who perished in the attempt to explore South-Western Africa, was accustomed to mark all his boxes in this manner. He had left a waggon in the care of the chief Leshū la tēbē, at Lake Ngami, and when this was received by the agent of the surviving relatives it was found that all the boxes had been broken open, and plundered of everything of value to the natives; but one, after being broken, had been sent out of the town to a lonely hut near some adjacent village. We insisted that it should be returned, no matter in what condition or however terrible might be the contents; and at length the mysterious box, which for more than two years had been a terror to the country, was placed before us. It had been broken, like the rest; but the plunderers, on lifting the lid, and finding themselves confronted by a veritable human skull, grinning horribly a ghastly smile, had shut it hurriedly down, and sent the dreaded box away. They were not a little astonished at our temerity when they saw us quietly lift up the emblem of mortality; nor were we less gratified to find beneath, securely guarded by the grisly sentinel, five bottles of the best French brandy, which the unfortunate doctor had taken this ingenious method of preserving. We ought also to mention that his medicine chest was marked with the figure of a snake, signifying poison; and it would be well if all chests, bottles, or cases containing either poison or medicines, which might be hurtful if wrongly used, were marked with a death’s head, a snake, or crossed bones, or some other unmistakable warning.
Demeanour towards Companions or Natives and White Servants, Hints on Travel, etc.
Everything during a journey beyond the limits of civilisation depends upon the good feeling and harmony among the party, and nothing short of unavoidable necessity should be suffered to interfere with this; there are, of course, cases in which human nature can stand no farther provocation, but it should be remembered that forbearance is seldom repented of, while hasty resentment, even if expressed only in words, may lay the foundation of ill-feeling, which becomes all the more bitter because the parties cannot separate from each other. At the same time, even forbearance should be exercised in a kindly spirit, for even an outspoken quarrel is better than the habit of “nursing the wrath to keep it warm;” the first may admit of explanation, or the parties to it, if reconciliation does not follow, may agree to dismiss the subject and work together till the close of the journey; and, if both be honourable, each will disdain to do less than his duty, or to throw an unfair share of labour or privation upon the other. But in the second case no such explanation is possible; the person who feels himself the subject of displeasure has no chance of learning what is the nature of his offence, and goes on unconsciously, perhaps repeating it, till, like an overcharged thunder-cloud, the storm bursts, and the restoration of peace which, in the first instance, would have been easy, becomes impossible.
Many a tale could we tell of comrades in travel who have freely risked their lives over and over again for each other, and counted it not even a thing for which they expected thanks, who have remained fast friends until the close of their journey, and in most instances, we are glad to say, this friendly feeling has remained undisturbed.
In one case related to us, one of the travellers had been called a coward by his comrade because he failed to fire at a lion at the expected moment. His reply was, “We will not quarrel over it now; but we separate at the first opportunity, and meantime I may find a chance to prove that I have not deserved your reproach.” One day he who had been thus stigmatised remained at home; and, when his comrade returned, said to him—“I thought I should be able to show that your words were undeserved: a lion has attacked the camp.” “Where is he?” asked the other. “Lift up the covering, and you will see him here,” was the reply. There was but one wound—it was in the forehead—and from so short a distance had the death shot been discharged that the flash of the gun had singed the hair around the orifice it made. The accuser apologised for his hasty words; but the breach was never healed, and the separation took place soon after.
The choice of servants must be very much guided by the habits and disposition of the traveller himself; but if he can, as ought to be the case, dispense with many of the luxuries of civilised life, then we should consider it best for him to engage people accustomed to the duties they are required to perform from among the servants of the colonists or white residents, who know and can answer for their character and ability.
Many travellers who start for the Cape Colony like to have a white man as an overseer, and he generally acts also as cook and personal servant. Such men as these are to be found in most of the frontier towns, and one who is really competent to the work in hand is invaluable; but care must be exercised in the selection, for however inexperienced the traveller may be he had better command his own attendants than submit to the intervention of a man who is unfit to manage them. In the first case, they will at least look upon him as the “master,” who hires, who pays, and feeds them, and for whom they feel bound to work; in the latter, they have no hesitation in saying to an incompetent overseer, “You are not our master, but only a servant like ourselves, and we care nothing for you.” More especially is this the case if they find him ignorant of the management of oxen, an inefficient hunter, or too much dependent upon guides for indications of his way in the bush. Nor is this to be wondered at; the discipline of a ship may be carried on, though the captain be incompetent, if his first lieutenant be a thorough seaman; but if that officer is not up to his duty, even a first-rate captain can hardly atone for the deficiency.
If a man who, in his youth, has been a soldier or a sailor, enters the service of a traveller, he possesses many advantages over ordinary servants. The soldier ought to have learned something of the value of discipline and order, and to be able to combine respect for himself with obedience to his employers; while the sailor must have learned, during his probation, a thousand shifts and expedients; and, above all, have acquired a habit of self-reliance in difficulty and danger that cannot be too highly valued. Efficient men, however, must be sought out and well paid; it is of little use to expect them to flock to the intending traveller and ask employment; they are not of the class who generally hang about large towns, but are more likely to be found on the very borders of civilisation. Moreover, they are not too plentiful; they would be more likely to ask, as was the case in Australia, have you a good character from your last servant? and inquiry should be made in time among other travellers as to the character and reliability of such persons as they have reason to think fit for the charge.
Within a colony, in case of a dispute with a servant, an appeal to the magistrate is possible; though if, as is sometimes the case, the nearest justice should live from thirty to fifty miles away—not always convenient—the master perhaps inquires of his native herdsman respecting the fate of a missing ox or two or three sheep; and, the replies not being satisfactory, hints his suspicion that they have been killed and eaten; the herdsman indignantly denies it, shortens his knobkeerie in his right hand, and gathers his kaross, or blanket, over his left arm, as a Spaniard does his cloak. If the master be of quick temper, he closes with and disarms him, or perhaps gets knocked down. If otherwise, he takes the more prudent alternative of riding to the magistrate. If he does the first, the native, whose time is of no value to him, starts off at once to the magistrate, and obtains a summons against his master for assault. If he chooses the latter, his herdsman probably takes advantage of his absence to add as many more cattle as he can to the missing list, and before he can be legally summoned is far away from the power of the law, seeking refuge among remote tribes.
Under these circumstances, it is not to be wondered at that occasionally the colonists took the law into their own hands; and of their manner of proceeding the following incident, related to us by a friend, may serve as a fair example. A native servant having transgressed in this manner, the people of the farm were assembled, and he was put upon his trial; the evidence was against him, and he was asked, “Will you be taken before the magistrate? Will you receive forty lashes at the waggon wheel, or will you be shot?” “They generally,” said our informant, “choose to take the flogging offhand.” “But how,” said we, “if some cunning fellow should choose to be shot?” “Oh,” said he, “that is not very likely; but a man once did so, and he was allowed to run a hundred yards, when a bullet was fired past him, but sufficiently near to let him hear the singing of it.”
It was not very far from the locality where this event happened that a flock-master began to find a steadily-increasing mortality among his sheep, the very healthiest of which, without any apparent cause, sickened, and in a short time died. Now, when merino or other wool-bearing rams are imported at a cost of 120l. each, it behoves a man to look well after the good condition of their progeny, but no symptom of disease marked the approaching deaths; the shepherds asked for the carcases, and, finding these, he proposed to serve them out as rations, but they refused, and insisted that sheep should be killed for them as usual. “Very good,” said he, “dig a pit and throw in the carcases, and I will kill for you.” Next morning he found the pit had been opened and its contents abstracted. When sheep were again brought in dead he threw quicklime into the pit with them; the mortality began to diminish, and a post-mortem examination resulted in the discovery that a very fine mimosa thorn, specimens of which may be had of all sizes, from that of a sewing-needle to 5in. or 6in. in length, had been thrust under the shoulder, and left to work its way to the heart of the animal.
Unless, in case of gross and insolent disobedience, which it is necessary to chastise with a strong hand upon the spot, some form of trial and examination of evidence for and against the culprit ought always to precede the punishment; and this course, so far as we have seen, is generally adopted by English travellers, a love of fair play being, we are fain to hope, in spite of occasional excesses, inherent among us.
One of the most marked instances we have known of this occurred not far from Objimbengue. A train of waggons was passing up country from the Bay; wine and spirits were flowing freely; and, as is usually the case where long-enforced abstinence is succeeded by opportunities of unlimited indulgence, some of the party were not quite as judges ought to be before dinner. Jealousy—that fruitful source of quarrels—produced one during the night, and an Englishman broke a Hottentot’s head—that is to say, inflicted a scalp wound half an inch wide and as deep as the thickness of the skin would permit. The inflictor of the blow (we never found out who was the actual aggressor) was confined in the room that had been assigned to us, and, with the exception of a few wild tricks inspired by the waning influence of the liquor, such, for instance, as drawing a sword-bayonet and giving point at a friend who entered, behaved with remarkable propriety, till a “raad” could be duly formed among the rest. Of evidence very little was required; there was the “tottie” with his wounded head; the defendant pleaded provocation and the influence of drink, and expressed his willingness to pay a fair compensation. Eight pounds sterling was proposed and consented to, and a bill drawn out and signed upon the spot. Rather exorbitant damages we thought for a wound which disabled the lad but for a day; but we were fresh in the country then, and thought the old hands knew best how to manage their own affairs. Extravagant and wild as was the scene, it was nevertheless a proof that wherever a number of Englishmen, or their colonial descendants, can be gathered together, a spirit of fair play will actuate the majority.
With native servants, very much must depend upon the custom of the country in which they are hired. Among some of the superior tribes, if men are well chosen, they may be left to perform their own duty in their own way; an occasional expression of approval from the master, and half an hour’s chat with them now and then, to show that, though he trusts them, he is not careless of his own interests nor unmindful of theirs, being nearly all that is required; while the power of withholding a good character or making a deduction from their pay at the end of the journey is enough to restrain any irregularity they might be tempted to. Sometimes they may be hired from the chiefs, who then transfers to the master, for the time being, his authority over them, and looks to him for the safe return of his men at the end of the stipulated time. In this case the traveller becomes pro tempore their chief, and may exercise his power in summary punishment of a culprit, or may reserve his right to appeal to the actual chief on his return. In other cases, as with Lascars or other natives of India, a gang may be hired with their own Serang, or Tindal, to whom all orders respecting them should be given, and from whom they will submit to any amount of punishment, though they would resent it as an insult, only to be atoned with blood, if inflicted by a white man. The Kroomen of the coast near Sierra Leone, who are usually employed on board our men-of-war, are generally engaged in this manner. We had twelve on the Zambesi expedition, under a very fine head man, called Tom Jumbo.
When our little steamer, the Ma Robert (which, if not the best constructed, was certainly the best abused little vessel afloat) was put together on the Zambesi, Mr. Rae, the engineer, took some trouble to train Tom Coffee (a Krooman) to act as stoker and general assistant. Tom had, however, a will of his own; and, proving refractory, was brought before Dr. Livingstone, who, from motives of humanity, instead of ordering him corporal punishment, put him off duty and stopped his pay. The Kroomen gathered in serious consultation over the sentence, and at length deputed Jumbo to appeal against it: “The Kroomen,” said he, “do not understand being put off duty; they come to work, and they must work. I will see to that, and they will expect their pay when this voyage is done. If they are insolent or lazy, or deserve punishment, tell me of it, and I will flog them; they ‘savey’ that, but they do not ‘savey’ stoppage of their pay.” Mr. Rae also felt the sentence press rather heavily upon him. None of the other men were fit, without fresh instruction, to take Tom’s place; and as the duties of chief engineer, with those of stoker and assistant, were rather too onerous for one individual, he was fain to join in the request that Coffee should be set to work again.
In some places it is almost impossible to avoid the employment of slave labour in some form or other; for even though the master do not, as of course no Englishman with proper feeling will, retain a man in compulsory bondage, or sell him for profit when his term of servitude is expired, it is in some countries impossible to hire a free labourer; and to give a man his liberty immediately after he has been purchased from his chief, or master, would only deprive the hirer or purchaser of all benefit during the expected period of service. This is particularly the case in some of the countries bordering upon the upper branches of the Nile. A well-known traveller in that region was once taxed with slave trading; he indignantly denied the charge. He had bought men of their chief, as everyone who required servants was obliged to do; but he challenged proof that he had ever detained one in bondage or sold him again when his service was completed.
An English military officer, in the same dilemma, bought men; he was a kind master, he found them good servants, and when he required them no longer he made them presents and set them free. A sudden cloud darkened every brow. Had they not served him well? What fault had they committed that he should now discard them, and turn them adrift, without providing them another master? We once met in Dielli, the capital of the Portuguese settlement in the island of Timor, an English captain who, moved by compassion at the miserable condition of some prisoners in the hands of Malay pirates, yielded to their entreaties, and purchased some of them; and on arrival at the first British port he went ashore to consult the magistrate as to the proper manner of giving them their liberty. “You cannot give them their liberty,” said he, “they are free already; and, though you have acted from motives of humanity, you had better let them go as quietly as possible, for not only is your purchase of no effect, but you have brought yourself into some danger by making it.”
In South Africa the English travellers, or traders, very properly refuse to have anything to do with the purchase of slaves, though men and boys will come to them desiring to be bought. A friend of ours had an offer of this kind made while we were together; but though it would have been very advantageous to have a couple of lads who, in a short time, would have been well qualified to act as interpreters, he declined the offer.
On a previous occasion, however, when a boy had begged hard that he would buy him he refused, but told the lad to go and make the best bargain he could for his own liberty; the price was handed over to him, he ransomed himself, and joyfully returned to enter the service of his new master.
Frequently a white man picks up some miserable, neglected child, lets it sit by his fire, and huddle among his servants, getting a share of their food; and if he be, as he ought, a kind-hearted fellow, an occasional pat upon the woolly head and a tit bit from himself. When its condition is improved, he perhaps sets it to some trifling work; but no sooner is it supposed to have become useful than down come the parents or brothers, or some impostors who represent themselves as such, and threaten to take the child away unless they are properly paid for allowing him to keep it.
In Damara land especially such cases were common; and we became quite accustomed to hear the native servant girls telling each other, as a matter of very little importance, that such a one had “thrown her child into the fire that morning.” Not that the statement was to be taken literally; but rather that the mother had just abandoned it, and the poor creature had crawled towards the fire for warmth, and so scorched itself.
There were also some natives who had a great facility for establishing a relationship with these unfortunates; and two or three had gained quite a reputation for their skill in discovering some genealogical affinity with anyone that had become the pet of a European supposed to be able to afford to pay for the luxury of keeping it.
In the Portuguese settlements on the Lower Zambesi a modified form of slavery exists, totally distinct from, and unconnected with, the slave trade, and rendered much more endurable by the fact that the slaves, or, more properly, serfs or bondsmen, are subjects of the Crown, and may not be removed from the colony, an ordinance, however, respecting which something may be said on both sides; for, if it prevents subjects being sold as slaves into foreign bondage, it is sometimes assigned as a reason for not legally marrying a native woman; that if a man were to do so, he could not take her from the country, and, not being allowed to leave her, would thus pass upon himself a sentence of confinement there for life.
With regard to the question of servitude under the Crown, the position of a slave seems to be that he cannot change his master, and his master cannot discharge or sell him, except under certain restrictions.
During the Livingstone expedition we were frequently served by slaves lent or hired to us by their masters. One of these, Katura, lent us by Major Sicard, the commandant, who always addressed him as Vossa Mercēe, or Mister, acted as our house steward, and had under him Josē, the cuisinier, who became highly indignant if any of us razeed his many-syllabled title into “cook.” Katura had a position to maintain, and he understood it; he was not only a steward, but a plucky little fellow, and the first dead man we sketched there (whose corpse will be seen in the picture of Mazaro Mutu, in Dr. Livingstone’s second book) was one of his shooting. Although a slave he had rights of his own, and was well aware of them. Sometimes he would bring us a few eggs, and when we offered to pay for them proudly remarked that the “ova katura” were not for sale, but he had no objection to accept a present; neither would he agree to put a price on any service we asked him to do for us; we made him a present of navy serge—enough to make a “frock” of. Next morning he told us that his master wanted it, and asked us how much calico he should demand in return. We told him three yards for one of the serge; the major demurred to this, and Katura refused him the serge, and after a month or six weeks made the bargain on his own terms, and asked us for a foot rule that he might measure the calico he had received. “A queer sort of slavery this!” said a Yankee friend, to whom we afterwards related the circumstance.
The following valuable hints on travel were communicated by Captain Stuart, the Australian explorer, to Mr. A. Gregory, on his taking command of the expedition before referred to in this work, and in which we took part. In order to render the directions as concise as possible, we have, in repeating them, avoided the repetition of the leader’s name, &c. In other respects we give the directions, words of advice, and hints, in Captain Stuart’s own words. In communicating them, he says:—
“Mr. Augustus Gregory, not being a military man, and not, perhaps, having acquired the habits of caution peculiar to that service, I venture to put together a few hints for his consideration, which I would fain hope may be of use to him, and for offering which my past experience in the field of discovery, and my anxious desire to promote the success of the undertaking in which he is embarked, must be my apology.
“I would recommend the leader to come to a strict understanding with his men before he engages them to conform to the terms of the agreement I have drawn up, and which is a copy of that which I made the men sign who accompanied me on my central expedition. It is the only means, when at a distance from home, to keep the men in order and subjection. I found it most efficacious on one occasion; when, one of the men having misconducted himself, I struck his name off the pay list, reduced his supply of provisions, and only reinstated him at the earnest solicitation of his comrades and on their guarantee that he should not offend again.
“The commanding officer should have his camp always compact. His sheep in the centre of it, and the drays flanking the sheepfold with the tents at the angles. I would caution him never to be without a guard. Let him give his men to understand that he will never dispense with the guard. I never did but on one occasion, which might well have been excused, and on that one occasion I was robbed. Mr. Gregory may rest assured that his safety at all times, whether in the presence of natives or not, depends on this necessary vigilance.
“I have been peculiarly fortunate in my intercourse with the natives. I believe the reason of this is that I have always put myself in their position, and deemed the alarm and vehemence they have exhibited at the approach of men and beasts they had never seen before as only natural. Instead of approaching nearer, I have given them time to recover from their amazement before I have separated myself from my men, and walked singly and unarmed towards them, and sat quietly down on the ground, until they had lowered their spears and appeared pacified. One of the natives is sure to advance and sit down as I had done, and so, by gradual approaches, we at length sat down side by side. But it is long before the native raises his eyes to look at you. I have always respected their customs in this respect, and am happy to say that I never failed. Treat the natives kindly, and they will so treat you. On no account did I allow my men to have any intercourse either with the men or women. This I interdicted under the severest penalties. The leader should not remain too long in one spot. He will understand that familiarity subdues fear.
“I would recommend him to have a respectable and responsible storekeeper, who should have a tent with the overseer of stock. The provision should be weighed out weekly to the men, and stock taken once a month, and a return of what has been issued and what remains given by the storekeeper to him. Such regularity inspires confidence.
“If the commander should follow a river into the desert, he will most probably find it assume a chain of ponds, and ultimately disappear in a vast plain. I would beg of him in such case not to move on his party until he has ascertained that there is water in front of him. He can have no idea how soon he can place himself in jeopardy.
“I know not that I can give Mr. Gregory any further friendly hint. Doubtless he is experienced in all the arrangements of an expedition, and he may be assured he has my best prayers for his success.
“The following general rules for the treatment of Indians, given by Dr. Brown, may also be useful in reference to other tribes, though a traveller’s behaviour to a barbarous or savage people must, to a great extent, depend on circumstances—his position in the tribe and the customs of the nation, which ought never to be wantonly outraged. These rules were partially drawn up for me at an early date of my residence among the North-West American Indians by a gentleman whom to mention would be to name, perhaps, the most celebrated of all the eeries of the fur trade. I afterwards added and amended them by my own experience.
1. Never pass an Indian village in the night if you suspect any mischief. They will be sure to find you out, and then, like all bullies, seeing that you are afraid of them, will act upon that knowledge.
2. If you suspect mischief, camp outside at a distance, and pass in daylight; you can then see better what you are about.
3. If you come to a village where you think there is likely to be an attack made on you, go into the chief’s lodge, and, if possible, into one where there are a number of women and children. If their sense of hospitality does not prevent them from molesting you, they know that when white men are attacked bullets fly about, and some may strike the women and children. It is an axiom that no man likes to put his head down a gun-barrel.
4. Trust to an Indian’s honour, and you are tolerably safe—you and your goods; but not to his honesty, for he will steal the ears off your head, unless you are very skilful in making a cache. If in a neighbourhood where there are Indians, you had far better leave your goods in their charge until you come back; you will generally find them safe; but if they find your cache—their honesty being doubted, and having no honourable scruples—they will be sure to clean it out.
5. Never appear to be afraid of them.
6. Never give them one cent less or one cent more than you bargained for—as a right. If you do, they will think it only yielding to them, and then imagine you have cheated them at first. You may give a small present if you like. It is a custom the Hudson’s Bay Company have introduced of giving after a trade has been completed a small “potlatch,” or gift, of their free accord, according to the value of the goods traded. Those Indians who have traded with the Hudson’s Bay Company expect it.
7. In making presents, take into consideration their wants; only make presents where you may expect a return; they do that with you; and goodness of heart is only thrown away. Never calculate on this last weakness.
8. In making presents for conciliatory purposes, always make them to the head people; never mind the smaller tribes’ men. Be sure, however, that it is the chief you are making presents to, and not some forward and impudent fellow, who is usually the first to accost you at the outskirts of a village. The chief generally retires on his dignity, and wants to be sought out. Secure the head man’s regard, and you need not mind the favour of the smaller ones; but even if you had abundance of goods to distribute, you would be sure to create red blood and heart burnings by one man’s present being better than another, or supposed to be, &c.
9. I have generally adopted the practice, when I had not much to give, of giving it to the children. If you win the children, you win the mother, and of course the father. A little present goes a long way with the children. If you give it to the mother, you often excite the father’s jealousy, and frustrate your purpose. Always remember, in addition, that a savage values a man’s generosity, &c., according to the size of his presents, and act accordingly.
10. Never allow the natives to eat with you as your equal. As a rule, play the great man with them.
11. If a savage is travelling with you, give him food whenever he wants it. Food given when he wishes it is of ten times more value than when he gets it when he does not need it, or is not hungry. Consult his wishes in this respect.
12. Never attempt to gain anything by force; always by persuasion, argument, and presents.
13. Notwithstanding all you will be told about the value of a medical knowledge in travelling among savages, I have generally found it of very little benefit, and frequently, when put in practice, of real detriment. An Indian will never come to you unless when at death’s door and he has lost confidence in his own sorcerers. You may give him some medicine, and perhaps in nine cases out of ten the patient dies, as he would have done anyhow. Their professional jealousy is raised, and you are accused by the “medicine men” of killing the person; and the worst of the matter is, it is often believed by the credulous people. If the man recovers, it is rarely that you get the credit of it. It is the medicine men who have done it. With surgery it is somewhat different. If the operation is one not involving any very serious consequences if unsuccessful, by all means perform it. They then see the working of your superior knowledge before their eyes.
14. Be just and firm, patient and equanimous with them. Display no anger or violent and passionate gestures, and never be very prone to notice insults.
15. Never say you will do a thing and not do it. Never threaten to do anything unless you intend to do it.
16. No people notice the weakness and moral shortcomings of a man quicker than savages; therefore beware, especially in re fœminâ.
17. Try by all means to learn the customs and social etiquette of the people; for nothing raises you more in their estimation than this knowledge, or enables you to see when you are slighted.
18. If you are attacked, and at the last extremity have to fire, take to the bush. An Indian does not like to venture in. He knows there is a man there and a gun, and that somebody may be shot, and that somebody may be himself.
19. If you have a watch at night, never stand near the fire; for then you are only giving the man a chance to fire at you.
20. Always, and above everything, remember that the hearts of all mankind are the same, and that all the difference between one and another is merely the overlay caused by etiquette, custom, and education; at heart they are the same.
“There are many arts which might be mentioned as useful in treating with Indians; but, as these depend upon a knowledge of the particular tribal customs, these general rules must suffice.”
CHAPTER XIX.
ON SKETCHING AND PAINTING UNDER THE ORDINARY
DIFFICULTIES OF TRAVEL.
For artists making a tour of the Lake Districts, the Highlands of Scotland, or the mountain districts of Wales, every possible convenience is supplied by the colourmen of London. The explorer-artist must, however, have recourse to many shifts and expedients.
The talented author of “A Painter’s Camp in the Islands” actually fitted out a little studio on wheels, the front of which was a large sheet of clear plate glass, so that, whatever might be the weather, he would be able to paint upon the spot, and with all the truthful reality that working in the presence of nature only can impart. Every effect of storm or sunshine on the hills, catching the passing rain cloud while the shower was still falling, with its misty fragments torn off by the gale, illuminated by the beauteous rainbow, or lighted up by rays of sunshine piercing through the gloom; and when such luxurious appliances can be obtained, and are used, moreover, to so good a purpose, far be it from us to say a word against them. In fact, we would advise every one who determines, as he ought, to make his sketches as perfect and truthful a realisation as possible of the country they illustrate, to provide every convenience he can afford or carry for the successful prosecution of his work; regarding them, however, simply as means towards that end, and casting them aside unhesitatingly when, from the labour of transportation, they become hindrances instead of helps to him.
We will suppose, first, that the intending traveller wishes to take sketches in pencil or in water colours, as occasion may serve, of the objects of interest that he meets with, he should be provided, as we have said, with folding sketch-books of folio and quarto sizes, with drawing paper, white and tinted, cut to their respective sizes. He will be able to form a tolerable estimate of the number of sketches he is likely to make in a day, and had better not encumber his folio with more than a good allowance of paper for the work he expects to do. Suppose he reckons six or eight sketches, and, allowing margin enough, takes a dozen sheets—three white, and two each of the pearl, the warm and cool grey, and the drab paper, putting away at the close of the day his finished sketches in a case specially provided for them, and replenishing his folio from that in which he keeps his store.
The preservation of his folio and its contents from injury by rain, by the dash of sea water, or by other causes, is of the first importance, and for this purpose he should have a haversack of good stout canvas—i.e., sail cloth—for each; this may be slung by a leather strap and buckles, but we prefer that the shoulder strap should be of double canvas 2½in. wide, and that the end, which comes forward over the right shoulder, when the sketch book is carried on the left side should pass through a loop at the corner of the haversack, and doubling back upon itself be provided with points or other means of fastening it at the required length. If buckles, hooks and eyes, or other such expedients are used, let them be not of iron or steel, but of plated or well-tinned material, so that no rust or oxide of metal shall gather on and rot the canvas.
Let the part which would then hang next the body of the wearer be of double canvas so stitched with two vertical seams that it may form three pockets, one large enough for the box of water colours in front, one in the rear for the japanned or plated water bottle, and the central sub-divided, so as to carry a few spare pencils, a memorandum book, to which, if the traveller cares about mapping his route, may be added, a 6in. scale, protractor, and dividers; in which case he will do well to add a sheet or two of the squared mapping paper to the contents of his folio, and two or three sheets of foolscap, with a leaf of semi-carbonic paper and a H H H pencil for his journal. A third thickness of canvas will at once form the pocket for the folio and the front of the haversack; and we would advise that the double strip, already spoken of as forming the sling, should be sufficiently long to form also the sides and bottom of the haversack.
The octavo, 11in. by 7½in. folio, will be found very convenient and handy on boat expeditions, horse or foot journeys, hunting trips, or when the artist has to carry everything himself, and must diminish weight and incumbrance as much as possible. In the Australian exploring trips we were not able to carry any other, and this hangs easily from the quarter of the saddle on the near side. In Kafirland, we slung the sketch-book itself (covered with skin to keep off the occasional rain) by short straps and buckles to our waist belt; and one long strap, passing over the shoulder to the belt in front, remained always fast, so that if a sudden movement, either of our own troops or of the enemy, necessitated it, we could at once throw the sketch-book over our shoulder, and advance or retreat as requisite.
We would advise, however, that the imperial, 15in. by 11in., folio should be carried if possible, as it gives so much more space for detail in landscape or other subjects than can be gained upon the smaller scale. With the large book the twenty-four tube colour box can be carried, with the smaller a twelve tube must be taken; and in either case weight may be economised on short trips by carrying only the lid that forms the palette with the little divisions that should always be found along its edge charged with patches of colour; in this case a slip of tin or copper must be fitted as a temporary cover to the box left at home.
We do not advise the solid sketch-block for hard service; first, because it exposes to risk an unnecessarily large quantity of paper, and next, because, with rough usage, the sheets may become loose, and cease to be a block. The folio with japanned tin frame, for confining the sheet actually in use, is the best. It should be made of strong, light, saddlers’ leather, rather than of the flimsy materials; which serve well enough for lady students a mile or two from home. The millboard surfaces may be varnished with boiled linseed oil, and allowed to dry thoroughly. Do not have them covered with paper pasted on, but with the plain surface of the milled board. We found it very convenient to mark a scale of inches along the sides of our frame, and have a movable slip of thin brass fastened upon it by simply bending the ends round, so as to enable us to draw a truly horizontal line at any height, and this would be especially useful in mapping, or the horizon in sea-views.
If a sketching-stool can be carried, it will be found a great convenience, as, when the artist has to sit upon the ground, to say nothing of possible unpleasantness from storms or dampness, the eye is lowered so much that often the grass in the foreground will hide the greater part of the landscape. The triangular stool, which folds up into a stick but little larger than a policeman’s truncheon, is the most convenient form. One of the legs may be longer, with a couple of cross-bars, on which to rest the sketch-book; or such a convenience may be made with a couple of thumb-screws to slip on when required.
In sketching a landscape it is of great importance to decide, first, what you intend to make the principal object, and how much in the way of accessory you can include beside it. About sixty degrees, or the sixth-part of a circle, is all that can be seen horizontally, without moving the head, and about forty vertically, and this may be roughly estimated by holding up the hands like blinkers on each side of the face, and observing where they shut off the view. Photographers have a little frame made specially for this purpose, and the artist may, by opening the frame of his folio, and holding it nearly at arm’s length, see how much of the landscape it includes. It must also be remembered that no one looking at a landscape can see the spot he stands on; and, therefore, if it is desired that this spot shall be the foreground, he must retire, say ten or fifteen yards, so as to bring it within the limit of his vision. In practice, however—when, for instance, he is looking over the edge of a cliff—this might deprive him of the sight of some of the most beautiful portions of the view, and it might be better to remain on the edge, leaving a sufficient blank at the bottom of the paper, and then retiring to sketch the foreground, choosing such a position as should make its characteristic features enhance the beauty of the view. It conduces very greatly to correctness if the bearings of distant hills are taken by compass and noted in pencil on the upper margin of the sketch, while nearer features are similarly noted at the bottom—if the estimated distance in miles is added, this enhances greatly the value of the sketch, as it becomes then a geographical record, in addition to its merit as a work of art. Holding up the paper steadily at nearly arm’s length, and making on its upper edge the apparent horizontal distances, and on its side the heights, assists the drawing very much; and the pencil may be held up and the distances gauged on it by the thumb-nail, and measured on the paper. Two knots on the ends of a bit of string, one held on the pencil, and the other between the teeth, will ensure the measurements being all taken at the same distance from the eye, which is of great importance. The angle formed by the side of a mountain may be estimated by making the pencil coincide with it, and then bringing it down on the paper. The perspective of receding lines may be found in the same manner; but care must be taken to hold the pencil in the plane of the picture, and not let it point away from the observer; the limits being thus ascertained, the forms may be slightly indicated, and then, after a steady and searching gaze at the object, firmly, but not heavily, drawn. When once the paper is indented by the pressure of the pencil, the line can never be entirely erased; and the surface, once injured, can never be restored. No line should be made at random; be the touches few or many, each should definitely represent some form. The merest outline accurately sketched upon the spot is preferable to any amount of indefinite filling up, which the artist had better leave to his own imagination, assisted by memory and a faithful sketch, when he finishes his picture.
In a pencil sketch, little notes, indicating the nature of the soil, the foliage, the colour or condition of the water or the clouds, may be neatly written in, in such a manner that, unless on close inspection, they blend into the forms of the objects, and rather assist the drawing than detract from its appearance: for instance, the word rocks may run alongside the shadow of a fissure, and their kind or colour—red, grey, basalt, or sandstone, &c.—grass, sandy plain, water, dark clouds, cumuli or light cirri, accidental or cast shadows, or gleams of light, are all worthy of notice; while the direction of a river may be indicated by a small arrow-head. It may also be enough if several objects of a kind are together, as a crowd of men, a herd of animals, or a flotilla of small vessels, to draw one or more carefully and simply indicate the position of the rest. If there is time, a few touches of colour on the principal parts—say the grey of distant hills and the stronger tints of the nearer ones in flat washes. If a sketch is to be finished in colour on the spot, the outlines should be made as before, with the greatest care; but no time should be wasted in attempting to shade or finish with the pencil. If the paper is of a light pearl or a warm grey tint, so that Chinese white will tell upon it, it will be less dazzling to the eye when reflecting the rays of a vertical sun; but it must be remembered that all tinted grounds impart their own character to the work, and, if strict fidelity is sought, nothing but pure white paper, with a sufficient grain or texture to take the colour well, and to give that slight broken uncertainty of touch which is of so much advantage in foliage or rough surfaces, and yet sufficiently fine to admit of the most delicate manipulation where it is required. The right side of the paper is that on which the maker’s name, pressed into its texture, is properly seen; and, if the sheet is cut, each piece that does not include some portion of this should be marked with an “R” on the right side, to prevent mistake. The pencil sketch being completed, wet the paper all over with your largest brush filled with pure water—this somewhat softens, while it fixes the pencil lines, and disposes the paper to receive colour more readily. Take up with the half-dried brush any drops of water that may hang under the edge of your sketching frame, which should, of course, be perfectly clean. Determine now what parts of your picture are to be white, or of pure and unmixed blue, and then, with the large brush, pass a very faint tint of pale orange over all the rest.
The three primitive colours, red, blue, and yellow, in their greatest obtainable purity, should now be placed on the pallette, which ought to be clean, and if possible unencumbered by other colours. Suppose you have Indian yellow, carmine, and cobalt. With a little diluted cobalt wash in the clear blue spaces in the sky, carrying a tint downward on any part of the ground in which grey is to predominate, so as to impart depth of colour as speedily as possible, and reduce the distracting effect of the white paper as seen in opposition to the parts you are painting; if the lights on the clouds are to be pure white, form a grey with a little cobalt and carmine and paint their shadow sides, then with a clean half dry brush soften the harshness of the edges, and reduce them to the form you wish, bearing in mind that the more correctly and evenly you can lay the edge of the original wash, and the less it wants re-touching the better for your picture. If the sky is to be cloudless, turn the picture bottom up, take a very faint wash of cobalt and carmine and lay it along the horizon, letting the lower edge hang full and wet, so as to give you time to work on it before it dries, and yet not so full as to run down in a drip, and so produce unequal lines across the sky; then take up a little pure cobalt and wash in another line of colour a little deeper than the first, the wet edge of which will run imperceptibly into your second line, and thus in succession keep working in lines of deeper blue, until by an imperceptive gradation you reach the zenith. If sunset or sunrise is to be represented, keep a pure white space for the sun, round this lay a wash of Indian yellow, round this another of carmine, and beyond this another of cobalt with a little carmine in it, keeping the picture still reversed, so that in graduating the tints the most brilliant colours may run into those that are less so—as the yellow into the red and the red into the blue, rather than that the colder colours should run into the warm, and thus impair their purity. The sun may then be tinted as required, remembering always that the source of light must be brighter than the atmosphere through which it shines—though, if the sun be setting in a bank of cloud or haze, great effect may be gained by painting it of a deep and lurid red; while its clear and nearly white light shines on the light clouds in the zenith above the influence of the haze.
Calm water will reflect the colour of the sky according to the angle at which it is viewed; if you look down on it, it will reflect the dark blue of the zenith, but at the same time, if it be transparent, it will also transmit the broken colours of the ground beneath, and thus many beautiful effects are produced—the yellow sand of the tropics imparting a brilliant green to the shallow sea, while rocks or sea-weed will give rich tones of brown. If the spectator is low down, the water will reflect the colour of the horizon, and its own local colour will be lost or much diminished; the reflection of objects on its banks will also appear more perfectly in proportion to its stillness; but never fall into the error of making the reflection an inverted facsimile of the real object—it is in reality an image as seen from the level of the water at a point midway between the spectator and the object. Get a good photograph showing a reflection, or lay a looking-glass horizontally and place an object on it, and you will see at once what we mean.
The distant hills may either melt into the soft tints of the sky, partaking of roseate light and faint sky shadow, or may rise cold and dark against a clear horizon, or may be shown in full light against a heavy storm cloud; in any case, the tone of colour proper to their respective distances must be preserved, and in this respect there can be no better rule than to copy those that nature herself presents. Objects in the middle distance will be more strongly coloured; and if any particular object be selected as the subject of the landscape, the attention should be directed to this, and the remainder made subservient to it, by having somewhat less finish bestowed upon them. Fix the eye steadily upon the chosen object, and observe how all detail becomes indistinct towards the limits of the vision, and then in like manner, having worked up the detail around the centre of interest, let the colours become a little fainter, and the work less definite toward the corners of your sketch. In foliage, take the lightest tint, say Indian yellow and French blue, or Prussian blue toward the foreground where intense green is required, and lay in the masses, keeping the forms large and broad, and blending a little more blue with the parts that are to represent the farthest side of the tree; then, when this is dry, take a darker tint and somewhat more minutely represent the forms of those portions that take the middle tint or local colour; and lastly, take a third for the deeper shadow, strengthening this with touches of rich warm brown or cool grey as you wish the masses to advance or to retire. Even pure crimson may be used with advantage as a shadow to cool clear green in the foreground; in like manner the proper shadow for a yellow sandhill on a beach is not a deeper yellow, but a cool purplish grey, composed of the complementary colours blue and red.
To give some idea of the work that may be done with three well-chosen colours, we append the following list, which might be much enlarged:—
| Primaries | Yellow and red produce orange. Yellow and blue, green. Red and blue, purple. | |
| Secondaries | Orange and green, citrine. Orange and purple, russet. Purple and green, olive. |
When the eye is fatigued by looking at one of the brilliant primary colours it seems to relieve itself by seeing the secondary colour which is complementary to it: thus if we have looked at red—say at a red light—for some time, and turn the eye away we shall see a green one of the same size and form, being seen in fact by that portion of the eye only that has been fatigued by the strong impression of the red. If we have looked at a yellow light we shall behold a purple image, because this is composed of the other two colours; blue and red is complementary to yellow. Blue, being a cool colour, does not so much fatigue the eye; hence, though by the foregoing rule we ought to see its image in bright orange, in practice we rarely do so. From these facts we learn that, whenever one of the primary colours is used in a picture, the complementary colour formed of the other two ought to be placed not very far from it, so as agreeably to relieve the eye. In most cases the landscape actually being copied will afford sufficient facility for this; sometimes it will not; but these instances are exceptional, and probably will occur in the snow wastes of the north, on the solitude of the ocean, or in the sandy deserts of the tropics, where drear monotony or wild and terrific grandeur constitute the charm of the picture, and fidelity rather than pleasing composition must be the artist’s aim.
We subjoin also a few combinations of colour which will be found useful in landscape painting: Aerial tints for skies, clouds, and distance: for very delicate preparatory wash, cadmium yellow and rose madder; strong ditto, Indian yellow and carmine; neutral ditto, yellow ochre and brown madder; still darker and less aerial, light red, Venetian red, or Indian red. Cobalt for delicate blue skies; French ultramarine for stronger. Cobalt and rose madder for delicate cloud tints. For golden sunsets: aureolin, gamboge, lemon yellow, cadmium yellow, Indian yellow, yellow ochre—to be used according to the brilliancy or depth of colour required, and to be contrasted by cool greys composed of cobalt and rose madder, or French ultramarine. Crimson sunsets: rose madder, carmine, crimson lake, Indian red, purple madder, contrasted with cool grey; and sometimes greenish tones formed by adding a little yellow to the blue and red.
In dark storm clouds, French blue or indigo, with light red, Venetian red, or Indian red, or purple madder. Indigo and Prussian blue require great caution in their use. With any of the beforementioned yellows, they form rich greens for sea tints or foliage; with raw sienna or burnt sienna, they give very deep greens for stormy seas or heavy forest trees. Light red and Prussian blue give a greenish grey. Light red with cobalt or ultramarine give greys somewhat less aerial for middle distance, mountains, &c. Indian red, with the same blues, gives a more opaque grey. Sepia and French blue make a cool grey; raw and burnt sienna are good colours for autumnal foliage, stems of trees where grey is not required, rocks, Dutch galliots, and many other foreground objects; brown madder and vandyke brown afford great depth for foreground shadows. For native complexions, raw sienna with a little of the burnt will give the colour of a Hottentot. A Kafir requires burnt sienna in the half tints, vandyke brown in the shadows, and a cool grey like the reflection of the sky in the lights—this is best produced by a little Chinese white and cobalt laid on thin over the brown. There may be a little blue put into the black of the hair to contrast the better with the brown skin. For a Negro, crimson lake and blue-black; the lights made with Chinese white and blue as before.