Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

M. Van de Velde, who travels economically, without thinking it necessary to secure the attendance of sheikhs of half a dozen tribes, seems to meet with a very much less degree of annoyance and obstruction than is common to travellers in Palestine. We cannot fail to observe, in the midst of many complaints of the rapacity and perpetual exactions imposed by the tribes of the desert upon wandering pilgrims, that every traveller has at least one faithful Arab, who, if not entirely superior to baksheesh, does yet deport himself with exemplary conscientiousness, and gain the entire confidence and friendship of the party he conducts. A good omen this, for a race so completely beyond the rules of ordinary law. There are some cases, too, where, cast almost upon their charity, sick, exhausted, and undefended, with no greater retinue than two unwarlike servants and one Bedouin guide, M. Van de Velde meets with unexpected kindness and hospitality from these children of Ishmael, and in his experience the Bedouins seem to contrast rather favourably with the resident villagers through whose domains his former course had been. Notwithstanding, though the unobtrusive traveller, who trusts himself without a guard among them, may meet with less annoyance than the richly-equipped expedition, prodigal of piastres, one does not see how controversies, historical or geographical, touching this mysterious territory, can ever be rightly determined so long as the investigators are compelled to hurry from point to point, and are kept in terror of the least divergence from their projected course, lest an enemy pounce upon them in the wilds where no help is. A railway to the shores of the Dead Sea is scarcely to be feared or hoped for these few centuries, but there surely might be an expeditionary band, strong enough to disregard the wild inhabitants of this land, which piques and tantalises with imperfect revelations the curiosity of science. An expedition which should dare to take time, which should venture into deliberate and careful examinations, and which was sufficiently strong to overawe the lawless lords of the soil, might do much to settle the jars of opinion, and reveal to the general knowledge this terrible country, scarred and marked for ages by the chastising hand of God.

A minor difficulty in the way of reconciling one traveller’s experience with another’s, is the perpetual variation of proper names. Taken down as these must be from the guide of the moment, it is easy to account for the orthographical vicissitudes through which they pass; but it were surely well even to sacrifice a point and take our predecessor’s spelling instead of our own, rather than throw this mist of perplexity over the whole scene. Many a learned puzzle has come out of this peculiarity in the sacred records themselves, the shifting of names, and subtracting of syllables; and we are like, as it seems, to find the same difficulty continuing with us. But it is not necessary, surely, that every new traveller should set up an orthography of his own: with submission, it appears to us that accuracy of place is of much more importance than originality of name, and that he is to be the most commended who enables you at once, and without perplexity, to recognise the spot where, in his predecessor’s company, you have been before.

In taking leave of these pleasant volumes, we cannot help regretting once more that the sketches to which such frequent reference is made are not added to the text. Lieut. Van de Velde’s friend to whom his book is addressed, seems to have rather an unfair advantage over the public in this respect; and without detracting anything from the value of the pen-and-ink sketches, which are admirable of their kind, it is impossible not to feel a degree of injury, or to resist being provoked and tantalised by such a sentence as this—“If my short description of the vale of Shechem, with its mountains of Blessing and Curse, can in any way elucidate to you the narratives of Scripture, I shall be very glad. I hope my sketch will come in aid of my pen.”

And why, then, does not the sketch come in aid of the pen? The worshipful public who read his book claims to be the dearest of dear friends to an author, and suffers no such successful rivalry of its pretensions. We trust to see M. Van de Velde rectify this mistake in his second edition. A very animated book, full of life and motion, atmosphere and reality, he has added to our store—a _good_ book, which the best of us may read “of Sundays,” but which the gayest of us will not find too dry for every day; and we will be glad to see Lieut. Van de Velde complete, by the addition of his sketches, so worthy a contribution to the little library of science, speculation, and adventure, which treats of the Holy Land.

BELLEROPHON.

A CLASSICAL BALLAD.

“Ὄς τᾶς ὀφίωδεος υιὸν ποτε Γόργονος
ἦ πολλ ἀμφὶ κρουνοῖς
Πάγασον ζευξαι ποθέων ἔπαθεν
Πρίν γέ οἱ χρυσάμπυκα κοῦρα χαλινὸν
Παλλὰς ἤνεγκε.”—PINDAR.

“Αλλ ὅτε δῆ καὶ κεῖνος ἀπήχθετο πᾶσι θεοῖσιν
ἤτοι ὁ κὰπ πεδίον τὸ Αλήιον οἶος ἀλᾶτο
ὅν θυμὸν κατέδων πἀτον ἀνθρώπων ἀλεείνων.”—HOMER.

[The beautiful Corinthian legend of Bellerophon is narrated by Homer in the well-known episode of Glaucus and Diomede, in the sixth book of the _Iliad_. In that episode the strong-lunged son of Tydeus meets in the fight a face that was new to him, and before engaging in battle desires to know the name of his noble adversary. The courteous request is courteously complied with; and it appears that Glaucus—for such is the champion’s name, though now serving in Priam’s army as a Lycian auxiliary—was by descent a Grecian, the grandson of the famous Bellerophon of Corinth, between whose family and that of Diomede a sacred bond of hospitality had existed. This discovery leads to an interchange of friendly tokens between the intending combatants; the weapons of war are sheathed, and a bright gleam of human kindness is thrown across the dark tempestuous cloud of international conflict.

The story of Bellerophon, as told in this passage of the most ancient Greek poet, is a remarkable instance of how popular legend, proceeding from the germ of some famous and striking fact, is gradually worked up into a form where the actual is altogether subordinated to the miraculous. In Homer there is not a single word said of the winged horse, which is the constant companion of Bellerophon’s exploits, in the current form of the legend afterwards revived, and which appears regularly on the coins of Corinth. The reason, also, of the hero’s fall, from the loftiest prosperity to the saddest humiliation, is only dimly indicated by the poet, when he says that Bellerophon, towards the close of his life, “was hated by all the gods,” and, “avoiding the path of men, ate his own heart” (ὅν θυμὸν κατέδων); but whether it was that Homer, knowing the sin of Bellerophon, with a delicate sense of propriety, refused to set it forth distinctly in the mouth of his grandson, or whether the simplicity of the oldest form of the legend knew nothing more than what Homer tells, certain it is that the ever-active Greek imagination could not content itself with the obscurity of the Homeric indication, and the moral that “pride must have a fall” was distinctly brought out in the later form of the myth. For the rest, the writer has taken the topographical notices in the following verses, not from his own conceit, but from the authority of Pausanias in his Corinthian antiquities.

It needs scarcely be added that the legend of Bellerophon—in ancient times equally the property of Corinth in Europe, and Lycia in Asia—has now become in a peculiar manner the possession of Great Britain by the labours of Sir Charles Fellowes, and the Xanthian Chamber of the British Museum.]

I.

The sun shines bright on Ephyré’s height,[2]
And right and left with billowy might
Poseidon rules the sea;
But not the sun that rules above,
Nor strong Poseidon, nor great Jove,
Can look with looks of favouring love,
Bellerophon, on thee.
There’s blood upon thy hands; the hounds
Of hell pursue thy path;
Nor they within rich Corinth’s bounds
Shall slack their vengeful wrath.
Black broods the sky above thy head,
The Earth breeds serpents at thy tread,
The Furies’ foot hath found thee;
A baleful pest their presence brings,
A curse to peasants and to kings;
The horrid shadow of their wings
Turns day to darkness round thee.
Flee o’er the Argive hills, and there,
With suppliant branch and pious prayer,
Thou shalt not crave in vain
Some prince whose hands not worthless hold
The sceptre of Phoroneus old,
To wash thee clean, and make thee bold
To look on men again.

II.

Darkly the Nemean forests frown,
Where Apesantian Jove
From his broad altar-seat looks down
On the Ogygian grove.[3]
Fierce roars the lion from his den
In Tretus’ long and narrow glen;
And many a lawless man
Here by the stony water-bed
Lists the lone traveller’s errant tread,
And wakes the plundering clan.
Here be thy flight, Bellerophon,
But danger fear thou none;
For she, the warlike and the wise,
Jove’s blue-eyed daughter from surprise
Secure shall lead thee on.
He flees: and where the priestess bears
To Hera on the hill[4]
The sacred keys, he pours his prayers,
And drinks the scanty rill.
He flees: and now before his eye,
With wall and gate and bulwark high,
And many a tower that fronts the sky,
And many a covered way,
Strong Tiryns stands, whose massy blocks
Were torn by Cyclops from the rocks,
And piled in vast array.[5]
Here Prœtus reigns; and here at length
The suppliant throws his jaded strength
Before a friendly door;
And now from hot pursuit secure,
And from blood-guiltiness made pure,
His heart shall fear no more.

III.

The princely Prœtus opes his gate,
And on the fugitive’s dark fate
Smiles gracious; him from fear,
And terror of the scourge divine,
He purifies with blood of swine
And sprinkled water clear.
O blessed was the calm that now
Lulled his racked brain, and smoothed his brow!
Nor wildly now did roll
His sleepless eyes; from gracious Jove
Came down the gentle dew of love
That soothed his wounded soul.
And grateful was blithe face of man
To heart now free from Furies’ ban,
And sweet the festive lyre.
Fair was each sight that gorgeous day,
Spread forth in beautiful array
To move the heart’s desire.
Each manly sport and social game
Thrilled with new joy his re-strung frame,
And waked the living fire.
Antéa saw him poise the dart,
In the fleet race the foremost start,
And lawless Venus smote her heart—
She loved her lord no more:
As no chaste woman sues she sued,
Her guest the partial hostess wooed,
And lavished beauty’s store
Of looks and smiles, and pleading tears,
And silvery words; but he reveres
The rights of hospitable Jove,
Chastely repels her perilous love,
Nor hears her parley more.

IV.

Who slights a woman’s love cuts deep,
And wakes a brood of snakes that sleep
Beneath a bed of roses.
The lustful wife of Prœtus now
To earthly Venus vows a vow,
And in her heart proposes
A fiendish thing. She, with the pin
That bound her peplos, pierced the skin
Of her smooth-rounded arm;
And when the crimson stream began
To trickle down, she instant ran,
And with a feigned alarm
Roused all her maids, and in the ear
Of the fond Prœtus, quick to hear,
She poured the piteous lie,
That the false guest had sought to move
Her loyal-mated heart with love,
And with rude hands had dared assail
Her virtue, cased in surer mail
Than Dian’s panoply:
Then, more to stir his wrathful mood,
She bared her arm that streamed with blood,
And scared his jealous eye.
Hot boiled his Argive heart; his eyes
Flash vengeance; but himself denies
The reins to his own spleen.
His public face in smiles is dressed,
He joins the banquet with the rest,
And tells the tale, and plies the jest
With easy social mien;
And to his high Corinthian guest
Lets not a thought be seen.
“Take here,” quoth he, “thou high-souled knight,
To Iobates the Lycian wight,
The brother of my queen,
These tablets; he will honour thee
Even more than I; and thou shalt see
A famous and a fruitful land,
With all Apollo’s beauty bland,
And various verdure green.”
Uprose the knight with willing feet,
His heart was light, his pace was fleet;
Girt for the road and venture bold
He left the strong Tirynhian hold,
And gaily wends his way
O’er steep Arachne’s ridge, till he
Passed Æsculapius’ sacred fane,
That sendeth health, and healeth pain,
And reached, with foot untired, the sea
That beats with billows bounding free
The Epidaurian bay.

V.

Thoughtful a moment here he stood
And watched the never-sleeping flood,
The ever-changing wave;
He knew no danger, feared no foes,
But from his heart a prayer uprose
To her that guards the brave.
Wise prayer; for scarce the words are gone
From thy free mouth, Bellerophon,
When, struck with holy awe,
Even at thy side in light arrayed,
Serene with placid power displayed,
The chaste Athenian Jove-born maid
Thy wondering vision saw;
And in her hand—O strangest sight!—
A wingèd steed she led,
That bent the knee before the knight
And bowed its lofty head.
“Fear not, thou son of Æolus’ race,
Dear to the gods art thou;
This steed, by strong Poseidon’s mace
That leapt to life, through airy space
Shall safely waft thee now.”
Thus spake the goddess, wise as fair;
And with the word, dissolved in air,
Was seen no more. The knight
Brushed from his eyes the dazzling glare,
And scarce believed his sight.
But when he saw the steed was there,
He winged to Heaven a rapid prayer,
And for the airy flight
Buckled his purpose. Mounted now
With rapid wheel he soars,
O’er creek and crag, and rocky brow,
And swift-receding shores.
A lovely sight was there, I trow,
Where high on wingèd oars
He clove the pathless air. The sea,
With various-twinkling brilliancy,
Immense before him lay,
With many a coast far-stretching seen,
And many a high-cliffed isle between,
And many a winding bay.
High o’er Œnone’s isle he sails,[6]
Where Æacus’ justest law prevails,
And masted armies ride;
O’er famous Sunium’s rocky steep,
Where Pallas guards the Attic deep,
He swept with airy pride.
Ceos and Syros wondering saw
His meteor-steed with humble awe;
And sacred Delos deemed
Apollo’s self, the fervid god
His own ethereal regions trod,
And with such brightness gleamed.
Swift o’er the Bacchic isle he glides,[7]
Where music mingles with the tides
From many a Mænad throat.
And nigh to Caria’s craggy shore,
Cos with her blushing winy store
His sweeping view can note.
Anon, sublime he soars above
Thy temple, Atabyrian Jove,
The lord of cloudless Rhodes,[8]
Where Telchins wise, with busy clamour,
Who shape the steel beneath the hammer,
Possess their famed abodes:
And swiftly then he swoops, I ween,
Down on the steeps of Cragus green
Into the pleasant plain,
Where Xanthus rolls his yellow stream,
And Phœbus lights with glorious gleam
The Patarean plain.
Here he alights. His heavenly steed,
With instant eye out-stripping speed
Scorning the earthly loam,
Wheels eastward far with vans sonorous,
And o’er the rosy peaks of Taurus
Sails to his starry home.

VI.

The Xanthian gate is wide and free;[9]
The Xanthian towers are high;
The Xanthian streets are fair to see;
The knight, with wondering eye,
Beholds and enters. To the king
A ready troop the stranger bring,
And scan him o’er and o’er;
Carious that one so spruce and trim,
And with such light unwearied limb,
Had reached the Lycian shore.
With kindly heart the Xanthian lord
Opes his high hall and spreads his board,
And pours the Coan wine;
Nor question asked (for Jove gives free
To all a questless courtesy)
Till days were numbered nine.
His tablets then the knight presents;
The monarch scans their dire contents,
For here ’twas written plainly,
“If thou dost hate who works amiss
Let not his hand that beareth this
Have sinned against me vainly;
Thy Prœtus.” Sore vexed was the king
That he must do a bloody thing
Against so brave a guest;
But vows were strong, and family bonds;
Therefore, composed, he thus responds—
“Brave knight, a fearful pest
Afflicts this land: a monster dire,
With, terror armed, and breathing fire,
In Cragus holds her den,
Chimera named: with savage jaw
She bites, and with voracious maw
Consumes both beasts and men.
This hideous form its birth did take
From hoar Echidna, virgin-snake;
She to that fiery blaster,
Typhon, Cilicia’s curse of yore
A triform goatish portent bore,
With serpent’s sting and lion’s roar,
This Lycian land’s disaster.
Harmless at first, for sport ’twas bred
By Caria’s thoughtless king,
And by his innocent children led
Obedient to a string.
Anon its hellish blood grew hot;
It breathed a breath of fire,
And tainted every household spot
With gouts of poison dire.
Full grown at length, and fierce and bold,
She ranges freely through each fold,
And licks the fleecy slaughter;
And, when her humour waxes wild,
No flesh she spares of man or child,
Echidna’s gory daughter.
Now hear me, noble Glaucus’ son,
Most valiant knight, Bellerophon;
Thou hast a face that seems to court
A dangerous business as a sport—
This thing I ask thee then;
Wilt thou go forth, and dare to tame
This murtherous monster breathing flame,
And win thyself a deathless name
Among the Xanthian men?”

VII.

Thus he—(for in his heart he thought
Such venture must with life be bought).
But brave Bellerophon
Guileless received the guileful plan,
And, as an eager-purposed man,
Buckled his armour on.
Alone he went: of such emprise
With this bold-breasted stranger
No one shall share, a herald cries,
The glory or the danger.
By Xanthus’ stream he wends him then,
And leftward up the hollow glen
Where Pandarus’ city, like a tower,
Rises begirt with rocky power;
Then upward, still he goes,
Where black-browed mountains round him lower,
And ‘neath chill winter’s grisly bower
The sunless water flows.
Upon a steep rock hoar with eld
A yawning cave his eye beheld,
High-perched; and to that cave no trace
Of road upon the mountain’s face,
But, like an eagle’s nest,
Sublime it hung. He looked again,
And from the cave a tawny mane
Shook o’er the rocky crest;
And now a lion’s head forth came,
And now, O Heaven! long tongues of flame
Ran wreathing round the hill.
No fear the son of Glaucus knew,
But pricked his forward will
The rock-perched monster to pursue:
On right, on left, he sought a clue
To thread that steep-faced hill;
But though the day had much ado,
When night came down with sable hue
It found him searching still.
Hid in the tangled brakes around
Next morn a rugged chasm he found,
That oped into an archway wide
Right through the hollow mountain-side;
Here plunged the knight; and then
With eager foot emerging speeds
Along a rocky ledge that leads
To dire Chimera’s den.
The monster hears his coming tread,
And with a hideous roar
Trails forth its length, and shows its head
And mouth all daubed with gore.
The brave knight drew his sword, and flew
Like lightning on the foe,
And on its hide of horny pride
Dealt ringing blow on blow.
In vain; that hide, Bellerophon,
Dipt in the flood of Acheron,
Is proof at every pore;
And where thy steel doth vainly hack,
A goat’s head rising on its back
With living fire streams o’er;
And from behind, a serpent’s tail,
With many mouths that hisses,
Rears round about thee like a flail,
To give thee poisoned kisses.
The flame, the smoke, the sulphurous breath
Doth choke thy mortal life;
Spare that dear life, for only death
Can grow from such a strife.
Backward the flame-scorched hero sped,
And as he went, upon his tread
The roaring Terror came.
Along the ridge, so sharp and jaggy,
Huge-limb’d it strode, horrid and shaggy,
And swathed with sevenfold flame.
Down through the archway opening wide,
Far through the hollow mountain-side,
It drove him wrathful on;
Then through the black jaws of the rock
It hurled him with a furious shock,
And with a huge-heaved stone
Blocked up the rift. There in the vale,
Scarcely with life, all scorched and pale,
Was left Bellerophon.

VIII.

The evening dew was clear and cold:
Upon the harsh ungrateful mould
All stiffly lay the hero bold
Thorough the dreamless night;
But when the face of peering day
Shot o’er the cliff its crimson ray,
All stiff and aching as he lay,
Sleep seized the weary knight—
A blissful sleep; for when the sense
Was bound with blindness most intense,
With sharp-eyed soul he saw,
Ev’n at his side, in light arrayed,
Serene with placid power displayed,
The chaste Athenian Jove-born maid,
And worshipped her with awe;
And in her hand—a well-known sight—
The wingèd steed she led,
That bent the knee before the knight,
And bowed its lofty head.
Raptured he woke; with sense now clear
He saw the heavenly maid,
And in her hand a massive spear,
Firm-planted, she displayed;
And thus she spake: “Ephyrian knight,
Dear to the gods art thou,
Not vainly did thy prayer invite
My aid to wing thy airy flight
To Cragus’ rocky brow.
A friendly god is thy provider;
If thou hast wisely planned,
Fear not; the steed doth wait the rider,
The spear doth claim the hand.
That snake-born monster’s horny hide,
That was not made to feel,
May never yield life’s crimson tide
To sharpest Rhodian steel;
But with this spear from Vulcan’s forge,
Right through the mouth in the deep gorge
If thou shalt pierce it, then
This dire Chimera, breathing flame,
Thou with a hero’s hand shalt tame,
And win thyself a glorious name
Among the Xanthian men.”
Upstood the knight, with hope elate,
And felt the aching pain abate
From all his sore-bruised limbs;
The wingèd steed he straight bestrode,
And to Chimera’s black abode
Through liquid air he swims.
The deep-mouthed Terror ’gan to bray,
The forky fire-tongues ’gan to play,
The fretful serpents hissed dismay
Round all the rocky wall;
But with direct and eager speed
The rider and the heavenly steed
Rushed to achieve the fearless deed
At glorious danger’s call.
The knight, with curious eye, did note
The centre of the roaring throat,
And while it gaped with gory jaws
To thunder fear around,
Forward he rode—nor any pause,
But right into Chimera’s gorge
He drove the spear from Vulcan’s forge,
And fixed it in the ground.
Up from the back the fell goat’s head
Rose rough with swelling ire,
And right and left long tongues were spread
Of forky-flaming fire;
But with immortal strength the steed
Flaps his huge vans around,
And straight the eager spires recede,
And harmless lick the ground.
Cowed lie the snakes, and with quick eye
A tender place the knight did spy
Where the neck joined the back;
There with a fatal swoop he came,
And through the fount of living flame
He cuts with fierce attack.
Down dropt the goat’s head in its gore,
And with a sharp and brazen roar
The writhing lion dies.
The palsied snakes, with stiffened fang,
Like lifeless leaves unconscious hang,
And lose all strength to rise;
And belching rivers of black gore
Upon the clotted rocky floor
The smoking carcass lies.

IX.

A famous man was Glaucus’ son
Then when Chimera died;
In Lycian land like him was none
In glory and in pride.
At public feast beside the king
He sate; him did the minstrel sing
With various-woven lays;
And old men in the halls were gay,
And maidens smiled, and mothers grey,
And eager boys would cease their play
To sound the hero’s praise.
The Xanthian burghers, wealthy men,
Chose the best acres in the glen
Beside the fattening river—
Acres where best or corn would grow,
Or vines with clustered purple glow,
These, free from burden, they bestow
On Glaucus’ son for ever.
The Xanthian king, to Prœtus bound,
For other dangers looks around,
And finds, but finds in vain.
’Gainst the stout Solymi to fight[10]
He set the brave Ephyrian knight,
And hoped he might be slain;
But from the stiff embrace of Mars
He soon returned, and showed his scars,
To glad the Xanthian plain.
A Lycian army then he led
Against the maids unhusbanded,
Where surly Pontus roars.
Before his spear the Amazon yields;
The breastless host, with moonèd shields,
Far o’er Thermodon’s famous fields
He drove to Colchian shores.
The Xanthian king despairs the strife—
“Let Prœtus fight for Prœtus’ wife;
I will not tempt the charmèd life
Of valiant Glaucus’ son!”
Nor more against the gods he strives,
But with his hand his daughter gives
To brave Bellerophon.

X.

A prosperous man was Glaucus’ son
Then when the queenly maid he won,
The pride of Lycian land:
The Lycian lords obey his nod,
The people hail him as a god,
And own his high command.
Fearless he lived without annoy,
Plucking the bloom of every joy;
For still, to help his need,
Jove’s blue-eyed daughter, when he prayed,
Was present with her heavenly aid,
And lent the wingèd steed.
His heart with pride was lifted high;
Beyond the bounds of earth to fly
Impious he weened, and scale the sky,
And sit with Jove sublime.
Upward and northward far he sails,
O’er Carian crags and Phrygian vales,
And blest Mæonia’s clime.
The orient breezes round him blowing
He feels; with light the ether glowing;
And from the planets in their going
He lists the sphery chime.
Bursts far Olympus on his view
Snowy, with gleams of rosy hue;
And round the heavenly halls,
All radiant with immortal blue,
The golden battlements he knew,
And adamantine walls.
And on the walls, with dizzy awe,
Full many a shapely form he saw
Of stately grace divine:
The furious Mars with terror crested,
Poseidon’s power the mighty-breasted,
That rules the billowy brine;
And, linked with golden Aphrodite,
The heavenly smith, in labour mighty,
Grace matched with skill he sees;
And one that in his airy hand
Displayed a serpent-twisted wand,
And floated on the breeze,
Both capped and shod with wings; and one
That lay in sumptuous ease
On pillowed clouds, fair Semele’s son,
And quaffed the nectar’d bowl;
And one from whom the locks unshorn
Flowed like ripe fields of April corn,
And beaming brightness, like the morn,
Shower’d radiance on the pole;
And matron Juno’s awful face;
And Dian, mistress of the chase;
And Pallas, that with eye of blue
Now sternly meets the hero’s view,
Whom erst she met with love;
And, like a star of purer ray,
Apart, whom all the gods obey,
The thunder-launching Jove.
The ravishment of such fair sight
Thrilled sense and soul with quick delight
To bold Bellerophon;
Entranced he looked; his wingèd steed,
Struck with the brightness, checked its speed,
Nor more would venture on.
Deaf to the eager rider’s call,
Who spurred to mount the Olympian wall,
It stood like lifeless stone
A moment—then, with sudden wheel,
Earthward its flight it ’gan to reel;
For awful now were heard to peal
Sharp thunders from the pole,
And lightnings flashed, and darkly spread
O’er that rash rider’s impious head
The sulphurous clouds did roll.
With eager gust the fiery storm
Resistless whirled his quaking form
Down through the choking air.
Loud and more loud the thunders swell—
Him with blind speed the winds impel;
Three times three days and nights he fell
Down through the choking air.
At length, in mazy terror lost,
Him the celestial courser tossed
With fiercely-fretted mane;
And, by the close-involving blast
Impetuous hurried, he was cast
On the Aleian[11] plain.

XI.

Senseless, but lifeless not, he lay.
The gods had mercy shown
If they had slain, on that black day,
The blasted Glaucus’ son;
But all the gods conspired to hate
The man, with impious pride elate,
Who dared to scale the sky.
Year after year, from that black day,
He pined his meagre life away,
Weak as a cloud or vapour grey,
And vainly wished to die.
On a wide waste, without a tree,
The unfrequent traveller there might see
The once great Glaucus’ son.
Far from the haunts and from the tread
Of men, a joyless life he led;
On folly’s fruitage there he fed,
Dejected and alone;
Even as a witless boy at school,
Would sit and gaze into a pool
The blank Bellerophon;
Or to bring forth the blindworm red
That, creeping, loves a lightless bed,
Would turn the old grey stone.
And thus he lived, and thus he died,
And ended to the brute allied,
Who like a god began;
And he hath gained a painful fame,
And marred immortal praise with blame,
And taught to whoso names his name,
PRIDE WAS NOT MADE FOR MAN! J. S. B.

THE COMING FORTUNES OF OUR COLONIES IN THE PACIFIC.

From the earliest records of what has been termed profane history, down to the present day, we have been accustomed to regard Europe as the centre of civilisation and of wealth. From Asia, Greece and Rome in early times, and the commerce of European nations more recently, exacted tribute and rich products. Two centuries ago the precious metals and tropical yield of South America and the West Indies excited the rapacity of adventurers from this and other countries; and towards the close of last century we had to recognise the germs of a great Anglo-Saxon power occupying the Atlantic shores and territory of North America, which we now see competing actively with us for a share in influencing the affairs of the world. Still both Asia and the American continent were regarded as merely the feeders of the commercial and political greatness of Europe. Africa was and remains comparatively an unknown continent, whilst the inhospitable regions of the north are shunned by all, save the hardy mariners engaged in the pursuit of the whale and the seal, the former for its industrial usefulness, and the latter as affording us articles of comfort and luxury. The extreme southern hemisphere had, indeed, been explored by Cook, Vancouver, Fourneaux, and others; and its clusters of islands were laid down in our charts, and some of them claimed as calling-stations for the shipping employed in our commerce with India, whilst others were appropriated for their valuable tropical productions. But beyond this the Southern Pacific and Antarctic Oceans were comparatively unknown and unvalued. Below the latitude of Cape Horn, the Cape of Good Hope, and the Indian Ocean, their waters were an unbroken solitude, save that occasionally a ship bearing the British flag might be seen steering for our penal settlement of Australia, there to deposit its living freight of criminal outcasts beyond reach of contact with the populations of the civilised world; and more recently with a few adventurous colonisers going out to cultivate its untrodden wilds, and, amidst privations and arduous toil, to wring from its soil the means of living, which they had been jostled out of on that of their own densely peopled fatherland.

A mighty change, however, has come over us—unlooked for and undreamt of—the issue of which the wisest can scarcely imagine for himself; for it is plainly not the unaided work of man which has brought about that change, but an overruling Providence, carrying out a preordained decree that one of the fairest portions of the globe shall be a solitude no longer. In most of the ordinary revolutions which have taken place in the world, human agency is directly traceable. We have witnessed in Europe the hardy tribes of the north over-running the fertile soils, and subjecting to their rule the degenerate populations, of the south. We have seen similar changes in Asia; and one of these is now progressing in Africa, the northern provinces of which are being subjected to the Gaul. Colonisation and emigration are rapidly peopling the western states of the northern continent of America. But to produce such a change in the condition of those far-distant countries, whose shores are washed by the Pacific Ocean, and which are comparatively inaccessible to the ordinary movements of migratory populations, whilst they held out little to invite conquest, an extraordinary stimulus was required. That stimulus has been lately afforded in abundant and overpowering measure. A popular outburst, excited by the love of territorial aggrandisement, which is inherent in the nature of the people of the United States, and which, indeed, is inseparable from the very character of their institutions, led to the seizure by them of a portion of the territory of Mexico on the shores of the North Pacific Ocean. Under ordinary circumstances the acquisition was almost valueless. By land it was well-nigh unapproachable. A wild and mountainous territory, occupied by various Indian tribes, intervened between California and the settled States of the Union. Commercially it was unimportant, and likely to remain so for years, if not for centuries, whilst, as an agricultural territory, it was inferior in fertility to those States. It had certainly the advantage of nearer proximity to India and China; but there was scarcely along any portion of the west coast of either the United States or South America sufficient population to render that advantage of value. But in 1848, only a few months after its acquisition by the model Republic, the world was startled with the news that gold had been discovered upon the Sacramento River, within a short distance from the port and bay of San Francisco; and further advices informed us that the deposits of that mineral extended over a territory five hundred miles in length by forty to fifty miles in width; and that, in fact, it promised to be inexhaustible in amount, as it was unrivalled in fineness. A population immediately began to flock to San Francisco by every possible route from the United States, from the west coast of South America, and from the islands of the Pacific. Even China was attracted by the flattering accounts promulgated of the richness of the mines, and began to pour forth its population towards the scene. The emigrating population of Great Britain swelled the tide; and, within twelve months of the first discovery of gold, we heard of nearly three hundred sail of shipping being assembled in San Francisco bay, deserted by their officers and crews, who had joined their cargoes of passengers, and run off to partake of the rich harvest provided for them. The sufferings and privations endured by some of the early adventurers—the crime, the outrage, and utter lawlessness, which spread over the entire territory—were recorded in vain. No warning was heeded. The passion for gain is one of the strongest in our nature. Men heard of fortunes being earned in a day; of the poorest becoming suddenly rich; of revelry and wild enjoyment ensuing after severe toil and privation; and the tide of adventurers flowed on with increased volume as every day added to the assurance that the attracting cause was a permanent one. It cannot be forgotten by the commercial people of this country how vast was the impulse given to the industry, and the agricultural, manufacturing, and maritime interests of the American Republic, by this state of things. Her people almost ceased to care about supplying Europe with farm products. The wealthy settlers in her golden territory could now afford to consume what had formerly been exported as a disposable surplus. Their monetary circulation was being largely expanded; and to a corresponding extent they were enabled to extend their commercial operations to every country. Their shipping, having earned large freights by the transport of passengers from the Atlantic ports round Cape Horn to California, could afford to make the run across the Pacific in ballast to India and China, whence they competed with us in homeward freights on terms almost ruinous to the British shipowner. And although they became, and have since continued to be, larger consumers than formerly of our products of every kind, it is very questionable whether, in the long run, this increased consumption would have compensated us as a nation for the advantages which America had obtained over us, through the possession of this new territory, with its mineral riches, in carrying on the traffic between our eastern possessions and China and the various markets of Europe.

The route westward, by the North Pacific to the Indian Ocean, was thus for the first time established as a great maritime highway by the enterprising mercantile community of the United States. We had ourselves long previously used the route _via_ Cape Horn and the South Pacific in our trade with Chili, Peru, and other countries on the west coast of South America. It was reserved for us for the first time to open out for the commerce of the world an eastern route from the Atlantic and from Europe across the South Pacific Ocean; in fact, to bring into practical use the voyages of Cook, Vancouver, and other circumnavigators of the globe, whose achievements during the past century had hitherto been regarded as interesting only in a geographical point of view. Here, again, it was an all-wise Providence which directed our path. On the 6th May 1851, it was first announced that gold had been discovered in our convict settlement of New South Wales. The news spread like wildfire throughout the colony; and in a very short space of time there were upwards of four thousand “diggers” at Ophir, near Bathurst, where the discovery was first made, whose success fully equalled that of the early adventurers at the Californian mines. Additional gold-fields were found shortly afterwards both in New South Wales and the province of Victoria; and before the end of July the arrivals of gold at Sydney, Geelong, and Melbourne were sufficiently abundant to create a perfect revolution in the labour market, not only in those towns, but in the agricultural districts of the entire colony of Australia. The ordinary pursuits of the population were everywhere abandoned. Men of all classes, capable of wielding a pick or a spade, and many to whom such instruments had been previously unknown, were seen abandoning their farms, their shops, or their counting-houses, to swell the throng which rushed forth from every quarter to “prospect” for gold in the gullies and creeks whose appearance or geological formation promised a yield of the precious metal. At the first announcement of so startling a discovery, a large portion of the public in this country were indisposed to credit it. Would-be-wise people shook their heads, and hinted that a mania had seized upon the Australian colonists, which in its issue must be productive of their utter ruin. We had black pictures painted of the effect of a neglected agriculture; and some wiser people than their fellows—journalists and statisticians—indulged in laboured arguments to show that picking up “nuggets” or dust must in a very short period become an unprofitable avocation, and absorb more labour than would yield a paying return, in comparison with the ordinary pursuits of industry. But each fresh arrival from the colony showed the fallacy of these anticipations and prophecies. Gold continued to be picked up in abundance, sufficient to remunerate every person engaged in its search, although the number of the searchers had been multiplied twenty-fold; and a vast emigration began to flow from this and other countries towards the new El Dorado. In 1851—the year when the discovery was first made—there were despatched from the United Kingdom alone 272 ships, with an aggregate tonnage of 145,164 tons, having on board 21,532 passengers. In 1852, the number of ships despatched was 568, with an aggregate tonnage of 335,717 tons, having on board 87,881 passengers. When using this term, by the by, it ought to be borne in mind that _adult_ passengers are meant, children of tender years being counted as nothing, whilst of young persons under fourteen years of age, two are counted as a passenger. The emigration of 1852 would thus be at least a hundred thousand souls. During the past year the number of ships despatched was 1201, with an aggregate tonnage of 553,088 tons, being an increase on the year of 633 vessels and 217,371 tons over the amount of 1852. We have not before us accurate data for determining the precise number of passengers taken out by them; but it would certainly be equal to that of the corresponding period of the previous year. Great Britain, however, was not the only country which was adding to the population of Australia. The United States of America were sending us practised gold-diggers from California, which shortly began to be regarded as affording a less profitable field for their labour. Germany had begun to pour forth her emigrant classes to the colony; and even China was joining in the movement. In the summary of the _Melbourne Argus_, written for the mail of the 25th March, we find the following statement: “In the course of the last month several separate ship-loads of Chinese have landed on our shores.... Numbers of these people, strangers as they are to our customs and religion, have been sought for and engaged at good wages by employers, with whom they can only communicate by signs. They have shown themselves, on the whole, one of the most inoffensive races of the motley group who seek our golden land; and a colony of them, that have been for some time established at the diggings, are remarkable for the quietness of their demeanour, and the propriety of their behaviour.” The growth of the colony is, however, best shown by comparing the aggregate number of the population now, with what it was at the period when gold was first discovered. In the commencement of 1851, it was ascertained that the province of Victoria, which contains the most productive mines, was 77,360. The same journal from which we have quoted estimates it to be now 250,000; and adds, that it is being increased by the arrival of about 1000 immigrants per week. It is doubtful whether the other provinces—New South Wales and South and West Australia—are progressing at the same rate. The “diggers” are a migratory race. The report of a new “find” attracts them from all directions. In February last, the Tarrengower gold-field was opened out, and discovered to be most productive; and the following is a description of the state of things which followed, from one who had visited the locality: “In leaving Bendigo, the comparatively deserted state of the diggings along Kangaroo Flat, in Adelaide Gully, and the Robinson Crusoe, is very apparent. The vast extent of the yellow mounds, where so much bustle and activity formerly prevailed, is now in many cases unenlivened by the presence even of a solitary digger. The want of water, in the first instance, but chiefly the attractions of Tarrengower, have almost depopulated this portion of the Bendigo. Many stores have been removed, and a large number are closed up for the present; yet there is a vitality about the place which shows that the glory has not altogether departed. Some business is being done, and those who still remain have infinite faith in the recuperative energies of Bendigo. ‘When the winter sets in,’ they say, ‘we shall have the diggers back.’” Similar migrations are continually occurring; and hence it is most difficult to arrive at the actual population of any particular province or district. It is most probable, indeed, that the numbers of souls in the entire colony are considerably understated. This, we think, will be apparent when we come to examine the consuming powers of Australia, as tested by its imports. From a return, moved for in the House of Commons by Mr Archibald Hastie, and ordered to be printed on the 1st of May last, the following were the exports from the United Kingdom to the colony in each of the three years ending the 5th January 1854:—

Declared value exported.
1851, £2,807,356
1852, 4,222,205
1853, 14,506,532.

There is certainly evidence here, either of a most wasteful consumption, or of the existence of a population greater than it is generally supposed to be. But this return does not convey the full extent of that consumption. From what appears to be a carefully compiled statement in the _Melbourne Argus_ of the 25th of March last, the imports into the province of Victoria alone, in 1853, amounted to the enormous sum of £15,842,637, received from the following countries:—

Great Britain, £8,288,226
West Indies (British), 14,973
North America (British), 13,560
Other British colonies, 5,036,311
United States of America, 1,668,606
Foreign States, 820,961
———————————
Total Imports, £15,842,637

If the same proportionate amount has been taken by the other provinces from colonial and foreign markets, the total imports for the year would reach the vast amount of _twenty-three millions sterling_!

It is certainly true that, with respect to many articles, these imports have been in excess of the requirements of the colony. Its markets have been drugged with Manchester goods, with hardware, and slops, or “haberdashery,” as our parliamentary returns rather absurdly call hats, shoes, boots, ready-made clothing, &c. Serious losses will have to be encountered by those parties who are unable to hold over their consignments, and in part from the want of storage-room. But this state of things is merely temporary, and applies to articles which are not strictly necessaries. The arrival of the overland mail, with dates to the end of May, brings us the assurance that business is improving, as indeed might have been expected in a country whose population increases at the rate of a thousand persons a week, each of whom is, on landing upon its shores, placed at once in possession of an income never previously enjoyed. We have the material fact, too, before us, establishing the capability of the Australian colonist to consume largely the products of foreign industry, that during the past year the province of Victoria exported to the amount of £11,061,543, of which £8,644,529 was gold, and £1,651,543 was wool. The difference between the amount of imports and exports may be accounted for without concluding that the population has been running itself into debt beyond their means of paying it with tolerable promptitude. We may reasonably hope, too, that one of the causes of such excessive importations as those of last year will shortly be removed. We have had thus far no efficient and regular mail communication with the colony. Up to the 20th of July, our latest advices from Melbourne were dated the 25th of March; and it was to American enterprise that we were indebted for intelligence up to May 11, brought by the steamer “Golden Age” to Panama, and thence by the West India Company’s boats to Southampton. Close upon four months had thus elapsed, during which our merchants had been operating in the dark, making shipments to a colony the consuming powers of which had not been fairly tested, and which might, for anything we knew, have supplied its wants from the nearer markets of India and China, or taken a portion of the surplus shipments to California. It is clear that such has been the case. We have shown above, that of the total imports into Victoria in 1853, £5,036,311 were derived from “other British colonies,” and £1,668,606 from the United States of America. Our East Indian markets, no doubt, supplied the former amount, and the bulk of the latter crossed the Pacific from California. On the 27th July we had a regular mail by the overland route, _via_ India and the Mediterranean, bringing advices up to the 29th May, which confirmed those brought by the “Golden Age.” It is clear that a country, which takes from the United Kingdom upwards of fourteen millions sterling per annum, ought to have permanently established for it a postal communication as rapid as possible. It is unreasonable and suicidal to torture a great mercantile nation with a system, or arrangements, which leave us for four months consecutively without advices of the wants of one of our most valuable customers, and exchange of sentiments with nearly half a million of our own fellow-countrymen. Before concluding our remarks, we shall endeavour to point out how such improved postal communication can be best established.

Returning to the immediate question of the increase of population in Australia, and its probable future rate, we may state, unhesitatingly, that it must be vastly beyond what is generally anticipated. In fact, the increase is self-creative—“_vires acquirit eundo_.” Every newly-arrived immigrant, who purchases land from the colonial government, and every digger who pays for a gold license, becomes, in so doing, an importer of labour. Writing on the 25th of March last, _The Melbourne Argus_ says:—

“The following is a statement of the arrivals and departures of
passengers by sea since our last summary:—

1854. Arrived. Departed.
Week ending Jan. 28, 2,619 739
„ Feb. 4, 1,561 632
„ „ 11, 970 512
„ „ 18, 1,475 557
„ „ 25, 1,438 607
„ Mar. 4, 1,576 434
„ „ 11, 1,336 670
„ „ 18, 1,494 332
—————— —————
12,469 4,483
4,483
——————
Increase to population, 7,986

“In the same number of weeks previously, as stated in our last summary, the increase was 6281. The immigration is, therefore, again on the increase. It is now proceeding at the rate of about 1000 per week; but we ought not to omit mentioning, that a very large increase over this may be speedily expected. We lately stated, on the authority of public documents, that our land-fund available for promoting emigration from the United Kingdom amounted in the last quarter to upwards of £250,000, and if that rate is maintained during the present year, at the cost of £6000 per ship, as estimated by the Land and Emigration Commissioners, and an average of little more than 400 persons to each ship, there will be a fund sufficient to convey free to these shores no less than 70,000 souls in one year. This, of course, is altogether independent of the emigration of persons paying their own passages, which, we have noticed, always increases with an increased Government emigration. Within the last few weeks we have been invaded by what seems likely to be the advanced guard of a large army of Chinese. Several ships have arrived crowded with Chinese passengers, and many more are reported to be on their way. The same spirit of enterprise is doubtless gradually extending itself amongst the people of other countries; and the natural effects will be exhibited in the inflow of a vast wave of population, to a colony which affords such a field to the labouring man as is presented in no other country upon earth.”

It may appear singular that there should be so large a number of departures as 4483 to set against 12,469 arrivals. We have already remarked, however, that the gold-diggers are migratory in their habits. Many of them, who have amassed a few thousand pounds, return to their own countries to settle. The state of society in Australia is not such at present as to attach parties to the colony. There is unfortunately there a want of home comforts. The wealth in the colony, suddenly acquired, is in the hands of people unprepared, by education or early pursuits, for spending it in a sensible manner, or investing it profitably. Many are coming thence only for a season, as visitors to their native land, or to return with relatives and friends; and some are going away in quest of gold, reported to exist, in more than Australian abundance, elsewhere. For example, there has been recently a rumour of the Peruvian mines reassuming their original fertility; and we observe, in recent Australian papers, announcements of numerous ships about to sail with passengers for Callao, on the west coast of South America, in the neighbourhood of which port it is said that gold has been recently discovered in large quantities. The real gold, however, will most assuredly be Peruvian guano, with which such ships will load for this country and the United States. Such re-emigration is natural amongst a population like that of Australia, and will continue for a while. But the arrivals in the colony are becoming more and more composed of the class likely to be settlers. The Germans have been lately extensive purchasers of land, and are _habitués_ in the colony. A report of a Hamburg society gives the following as the German population in 1852:—

New South Wales, 13,500
South Australia, 8,000
Victoria, 1,320
____________
24,820

The German emigration to Australia last year will have greatly swelled these numbers; and the description of emigrants from that country may be estimated from the fact that, of nearly 6000 persons who applied to the Berlin Emigration Society in 1852 for advice and assistance, 4444 possessed property amounting in the whole to 977,635 dollars, or, upon an average, 218 dollars (£32, 14s.) per head.[12] We have also yet to experience the effect which will be produced by remittances home by emigrants for the purpose of enabling their friends to join them in the colony. The impetus given to the efflux of population from Ireland by such remittances was strikingly shown by the Colonial Land and Emigration Commissioners in their Report of last year. The remittances from the United States, as ascertained through leading mercantile and banking firms, were as follows in the years mentioned:—

1848 £460,000
1849 540,000
1850 957,000
1851 990,000
1852 1,404,000