Part 27

This scene was very ill calculated to entertain such a man as Hanway, and might, perhaps, have touched even the breast of Shylock with compassion. He therefore retired in silence, leaving the bloody-minded representative of the shah to glut his ferocious appetite for slaughter at his leisure. Meanwhile, the payment for the lost merchandise being made very slowly, Hanway once more appealed to the justice of the governor, who now confessed that a part of the money had been appropriated to the shah’s own use, and, in default of other means, offered in part of payment a number of female prisoners, who might, he said, be sold for slaves. This Hanway refused; and having obtained the greater portion of his demand, he repaired to the seashore, and once more embarked on the Caspian. Proceeding along the southern shore, he disembarked at Lanjaron, and continued his journey by land to Reshed, where, immediately after his arrival, he was attacked by a dangerous disorder, which detained him in that city during nearly two months; after which he invested his money in raw silk, and, setting sail on the 13th of September, arrived safely at Yerkie on the mouth of the Volga. Here, as the Russian authorities feigned to believe that the plague was raging in Northern Persia, he was compelled to perform quarantine during six weeks; at the expiration of which he proceeded by land along the western bank of the Volga to Zarytzin, and thence to Moscow, where he arrived on the 22d of December. Here he received letters from England, informing him that by the death of a relation he had succeeded to a sum of money far exceeding any advantages he could expect to derive from the conducting of the Caspian trade. “Providence was thus indulgent to me,” says he, “as if it meant to reward me for the sincerity of my endeavours.”

Hanway reached Petersburg on the 1st of January, 1745. Here he remained nearly five years engaged in commerce; but at length, the love of gain yielding to the love of home, he quitted the Russian capital; visited the dry dock constructed by Peter I. at Cronstadt; and, passing rapidly through Prussia, Germany, and Holland, embarked in a yacht at Helvoetsluys, and landed at Harwich, after an absence of nearly eight years.

On the arrival of our traveller in London, he went to reside in the Strand, at the house of his sister, Mrs. Townsend. Here, having now entirely abandoned all mercantile pursuits, he lived as a private gentleman, employed in compiling the history of his travels, and in constant acts of benevolence. The application to sedentary employment, which was so little in unison with the former tenor of his life, and which the exercise of his charity was not sufficient to diversify, very quickly injured his health; so that he was compelled for relaxation to travel once more, though his excursion was confined to France and the Netherlands. About this period the question respecting the expediency of naturalizing the Jews was agitated in most of the countries of Europe; and Hanway, on most other occasions just and philanthropic, yielded in this instance to the force of narrow and inhuman prejudices; and argued in a pamphlet, now very properly condemned to oblivion, in favour of the absurd laws by which this portion of our fellow-creatures have been in so many countries excluded from the enjoyment of the rights of man. His other works were devoted to better purposes; he promoted, as far as was in his power, the paving of the streets of London; he laboured to convince the English people of the futility of the fears they seemed to entertain of a French invasion, than which nothing could be more absurd or impracticable; he founded the Marine Society, intended to encourage the breed of seamen; he endeavoured benevolently, but ridiculously, to discourage the habit of tea-drinking; he laboured to improve the Foundling Hospital institution; was the principal means of founding the Magdalen Hospital, or asylum for repentant public women; advocated the cause of the orphan poor; and, by reasoning and ridicule, exposed the practice of _vails giving_, as it was termed, by which a man who was invited to the table of the great was made to pay threefold for his dinner. According to Mr. Pugh, he was incited to the exposure of this abuse by Sir Timothy Waldo. “Sir Timothy,” says he, “had dined with the duke (of Newcastle), and, on his leaving the house, was contributing to the support and insolence of a train of servants who lined the hall, and at last put a crown into the hands of the cook, who returned it, saying, ‘Sir, I do not take silver.’—‘Don’t you, indeed?’ said the worthy knight, putting it in his pocket, ‘then I do not give gold.’” Among the ludicrous circumstances mentioned in Mr. Hanway’s letter is one which happened to himself. He was paying the servants of a respectable friend for a dinner which their master had invited him to, one by one, as they appeared. “Sir, your great-coat;” _a shilling_; “Your hat;” _a shilling_; “Stick;” _a shilling_; “Umbrella;” _a shilling_; “Sir, your gloves.”—“Why, friend, you may keep the gloves: they are not worth a shilling.”

In 1762 he was appointed one of the commissioners for victualling the navy; upon which, finding that an increase of expenditure was authorized by the augmentation of his income, he took a house in Red Lion Square, the principal rooms of which, says his biographer, he furnished and decorated with paintings and emblematical devices in a style peculiar to himself. “I found,” said he, “that my countrymen and women were not _au fait_ in the art of conversation; I have therefore presented them with objects the most attractive that I could imagine, and such as cannot easily be imagined without exciting amusing and instructive discourse; and when that fails there are the cards.” Prince Eugene, who, I suppose, found his companions in much the same predicament, was used to have music during dinner, and, upon being questioned respecting his reasons, replied, “It saves you the trouble of talking.”

Among numerous other benevolent schemes of our worthy traveller was one which had for its object the bettering the condition of young chimney-sweepers, who, besides the distresses which are open to general observation, such as the contortion of their limbs and the stunting of their growth, are liable to a disease peculiar to their occupation, known by the name of the “chimney-sweepers’ cancer.” The extent of the benefit conferred on these wretched beings—the very _Pariahs_ of English society—by the exertions of Hanway cannot be exactly estimated; but they certainly were considerable, and serve to show that genuine benevolence can condescend to commiserate the miserable in whatever position they may be placed. During his labours in behalf of these little “fathers of soot,” as an Arab would term them, he addressed a little urchin who had just been sweeping his own chimney:—“Suppose, now, I give you a shilling?”—“God Almighty bless your honour, and thank you!”—“And what if I give you a fine tie-wig to wear on May-day, which is just at hand?”—“Ah! bless your honour; my master won’t let me go out on May-day.”—“No! why not?”—“_He says it’s low life!_” The idea of a young chimney-sweeper, black as if just issued from Pandemonium, in “a fine tie-wig,” could never have suggested itself to any but a man of original genius.

Pugh, the honest and intelligent author of Hanway’s life, tells us an anecdote connected with our traveller’s history, which I will relate in his words:—“To one of his books written for the use of the poor he prefixed a description of the frontispiece, in which he says to the gentle reader, ‘Here you see the grass grow and the sheep feed.’ The reviewers fastened on this unfortunate sentence. ‘We remember,’ said they (I quote from memory after a lapse of several years), ‘a miller, who quitted his trade to take a public-house, and sent for a painter to paint him the sign of the _mill_. “I must have the miller looking out of the window.”—“It shall be done,” said the painter. “But I was never seen to be idle; you must make him pop his head in if any one looks at him.” This also the artist promised, and brought home the sign. “’Tis all well; but where’s the miller?”—“Sir, he popped his head in when you looked.” Even so,’ said the reviewers, ‘when we look on the benevolent author’s frontispiece, the grass ceases to _grow_, and the sheep leave off _feeding_.’”

Hanway died on the 5th of September, 1786. His last moments were those of a Christian and a philosopher, calm and tranquil, indicating the firmest reliance on the mercy and goodness of God, and a consciousness of a life honestly and usefully spent. It might not be difficult to collect from the history of his life materials for forming a correct notion of his character; but in addition to the information to be derived from this source, Pugh enjoyed the advantage of having lived with him in the same house on terms of considerable familiarity. For this reason, I prefer the adopting of the character which he has drawn, and which appears to be sufficiently impartial, to the maintaining of an appearance of originality, by conveying the same idea in different words:—“Mr. Hanway in his person was of the middle size, of a thin spare habit, but well shaped; his limbs were fashioned with the nicest symmetry. In the latter years of his life he stooped very much, and, when he walked, found it conduce to his ease to let his head incline towards one side; but when he went first to Russia, at the age of thirty, his face was full and comely, and his person altogether such as obtained for him the appellation of the ‘handsome Englishman.’ His features were small, but without the insignificance which commonly attends small features. His countenance was interesting, sensible, and calculated to inspire reverence. His blue eyes had never been brilliant, but they expressed the utmost humanity and benevolence; and when he spoke, the animation of his countenance and the tone of his voice were such as seemed to carry conviction with them even to the mind of a stranger. When he endeavoured to sooth distress, or point out to any wretch who had strayed the comforts of a virtuous life, he was peculiarly impressive; and every thing that he said had an air of consideration and sincerity. In his transactions with the world he was always open, candid, and sincere; whatever he said might be depended on with implicit confidence. He adhered to the strict truth, even in the manner of his relation, and no brilliancy of thought could induce him to vary from the fact. But although so frank in his own proceedings, he had seen too much of life to be easily deceived by others; and he did not often place a confidence that was betrayed. He did not, however, think the world so degenerate as is commonly imagined; ‘and if I did,’ he used to say, ‘I would not let it appear; for nothing can tend so effectually to make a man wicked, or to keep him so, as a marked suspicion.’ He knew well how much the happiness of mankind is dependent on honest industry, and received a pleasure but faintly described in words when any of the objects of his charity, cleanly apparelled, and with cheerful and contented countenances, came to pay their respects to him. He treated them as his acquaintance, entered into their concerns with a paternal affection, and let them know that on any real emergency they might apply with confidence to him. It was this rather than the largeness of his gifts that endeared him so much to the common people. He never walked out but he was followed by the good wishes, silent or expressed, of some to whom he had afforded relief. To meet the eye of the person he had served was to him the highest luxury; and no man enjoyed it oftener. His own misfortunes, I believe, never caused him to shed tears; and if the miseries of others had that effect, which was very rare indeed, he was particularly careful to conceal it. Yet the sight of a regiment of soldiers under exercise, of the charity-children in their annual assembly at Saint Paul’s, the Marine Society’s boys marching to join their ships, or in procession, were objects which he could not resist.”

ANTONIO DE ULLOA.

Born 1716—Died 1795.

THIS great traveller, as Andiffret and Viguier observe, was one of those men, who, in the course of the eighteenth century, reflected the greatest honour upon Spain. He was born at Seville on the 12th of January, 1716. His family, already distinguished in the navy, began to prepare him from his earliest years for following the same career. His education was conducted with extraordinary care. In 1733 he entered the service, and his progress very quickly exceeded the most sanguine hopes which the first manifestations of his character had given birth to. The first commission with which he was intrusted was the scientific expedition concerted between the ministers of France and Spain, for the purpose of measuring a degree of the meridian near the equator, while another expedition was despatched to measure other degrees under the polar circle, in order to form a judgment of the different parts of the earth’s circumference, by their equality or inequality, and from thence to determine its magnitude and figure.

The province of Quito, in Peru, appearing to offer the most favourable equatorial position for performing this enterprise, which seemed likely to be long and laborious, the ministers of Louis XV. made application to Philip V. of Spain, for permission to send a certain number of French academicians into Peru, in order to make there the necessary observations. Philip referred the matter to the Council of the Indies, and, on their favourable report, the license was granted, with all the necessary recommendations and assurances of the royal protection to the travellers. He moreover appointed two officers of his navy, says Ulloa, well skilled in mathematics, to join in the observations which were to be made, in order to give them a greater dignity, and a more extensive advantage; and that the Spaniards might owe only to themselves the fruits and improvements expected from them.

The two officers appointed for this service by Philip were Don George Juan, and Don Antonio de Ulloa. Previous to their departure, these two gentlemen were promoted to the rank of lieutenant in the royal navy. Having received their instructions, they set sail in separate ships from Cadiz Bay, May 26th, 1735, and on the 9th of July arrived in the bay of Carthagena. Here they found on landing that the French academicians had not yet reached the port, and as they had been instructed to await their arrival at this city, they determined to employ the interval in making nautical and astronomical observations. They were allowed ample leisure by the delay of the French travellers, who did hot join them until the 15th of November, when they all proceeded together, by the way of Porto Bello, Panama, and Guayaquil, to their ultimate destination.

The party set sail on the 24th of November, and reached Porto Bello on the 29th. From thence they proceeded in small vessels up the river Chagre, the current of which was so rapid, that their oars became useless, and they were compelled to push the vessels along with poles. This river was formerly named Lagartos, from the great number of caymans or alligators which were found in it. Its banks, rendered impassable by woods and thickets, exhibited a series of the richest and most magnificent landscapes:—the groves which shade the plains, and extend their branches to the river, the various dimensions of the trees which cover the eminences; the texture of their leaves; the figure of their fruits, and the various colours they exhibit, form a delightful scene, which is greatly heightened by the infinite variety of creatures with which it is diversified. The different species of monkeys, skipping from tree to tree, hanging from the branches; and in other places, six, eight, or more of them linked together in order to pass a river, and the dams with their young on their shoulders, throwing themselves into odd postures, making a thousand grimaces; will perhaps appear fictitious to those who have not actually seen it. But if the birds are considered, our reason for admiration will be considerably augmented.

At Panama, on the Pacific, where they arrived on the 29th of December, their stay was considerably prolonged by various preparations indispensable for the prosecution of their journey. This interval was usefully employed by Ulloa: he made numerous astronomical observations, took a plan of the city and the adjacent coast, and observed with minuteness and accuracy the surrounding country and its inhabitants. Their arrangements being completed, they embarked on the Pacific, and sailed for Guayaquil, which they reached on the 25th of March. Here they were received with distinguished politeness by the corregidor, who immediately apprized the corregidor of Guaranda of their arrival, that he might order carriages to the port of Caracol for conveying them to the mountains.

All things being thus prepared, they departed from Guayaquil, and embarked on the river on the 3d of May, 1736. The extreme velocity and strength of the current, and several unfortunate accidents, so greatly retarded their progress, that they did not reach Caracol before the 11th. “The tortures we received on the river, from the mosquitoes,” says Ulloa, “were beyond imagination. We had provided ourselves with quetres and mosquito-cloths; but to very little purpose: the whole day we were in continual motion to keep them off; but at night our torments were excessive. Our gloves were indeed some defence to our hands, but our faces were entirely exposed; nor were our clothes a sufficient defence for the rest of our bodies, for their stings penetrating through the cloth, caused a very painful and fiery itching. The most dismal night we spent on this passage, was when we came to an anchor near a large and handsome house, but uninhabited; for we had no sooner seated ourselves in it, than we were attacked on all sides with innumerable swarms of mosquitoes, so that we were so far from having any rest there, that it was impossible for a person susceptible of feeling to be one moment quiet. Those who had covered themselves with their mosquito-cloths, after taking care that none of these malignant insects were contained in them, found themselves in a moment so attacked on all sides that they were obliged soon to return to the place they had quitted. Those who were in the house, hoping that they should find some relief in the open fields, ventured out, though in danger of suffering in a more terrible manner from the serpents; but were soon convinced of their mistake, it being impossible to determine which was the more desirable place, within the mosquito-cloth, without it, or in the open fields. In short no expedient was of any use against their numbers. The smoke of the trees we burnt to disperse these infernal insects, besides almost choking us, seemed rather to augment than diminish their numbers. At daybreak we could not without concern look at each other.”

At Caracol they quitted the river, and continued their journey on the backs of mules, through thick forests, along the course of the river Ojibar. When, as frequently happened, they found no habitation near their halting-place, the inconvenience was soon remedied by the remarkable dexterity of their Indians, who running into the woods, quickly returned with branches of trees and vijahna leaves, with which, in less than an hour, they erected several huts large enough to contain the whole party, and so well contrived that the rain, which fell in torrents, could not penetrate them. They now began to ascend the distant roots of the mountains, and felt an increasing coldness in the air. At a place called Mamarumi, or the “Mother of Stone,” they beheld an indescribably beautiful cascade.

“The rock,” says Ulloa, “from which the water precipitates itself is nearly perpendicular, and fifty toises in height, and on both sides bordered with lofty and spreading trees. The clearness of the water dazzles the sight, which is however charmed with its lustre as it falls from the precipice; after which it continues its course in a bed along a small descent, and is crossed by the road.”

The roads by degrees assumed an Alpine character; in some places the declivity was so great, that the mules could scarcely keep their footing, while in others the acclivity was equally difficult. Occasionally the road grew so narrow that there was scarcely room for the mules to pass, while it lay at other times along the edge of tremendous precipices, where, had they made one false step, they must have inevitably toppled over and perished. The extraordinary dexterity of the mules in descending the fearful slopes of these mountains is one of the most surprising things related of the sagacity of animals. The mules themselves are sensible of the caution requisite in these descents; for coming at the top of an eminence they stop, and having placed their fore-feet close together, as in a posture of stopping themselves, they put their hind-feet together, but a little forwards, as if going to lie down. In this attitude, having taken a survey of the road, they slide down with the swiftness of a meteor. All the rider has to do is to keep himself fast on the saddle without checking the beast; for the least motion is sufficient to disorder the equilibrium of the mule; in which case they both unavoidably perish. The address of these creatures is here truly wonderful; for in this rapid motion, when they seem to have lost all government of themselves, they follow exactly the different windings of the road, as if they had before accurately reconnoitred, and previously settled in their minds the route they were to follow, and taken every precaution for their safety among so many irregularities. There would indeed otherwise be no possibility of travelling over such places, where the safety of the rider depends on the experience and address of his beast.

But the longest habit of travelling these roads cannot entirely free them from a kind of dread or horror, which appears when they arrive at the top of a steep declivity; for they stop without being checked by the rider; and, if he inadvertently endeavours to spur them on, they continue immoveable, nor will they stir from the place till they have put themselves in the above-mentioned posture. Now it is that they seem to be actuated by reason; for they not only attentively view the road, but tremble and snort at the danger which, if the rider be not accustomed to these emotions, cannot fail of filling him with terrible ideas.

On the 18th they crossed the summit of the mountain, and descended into the province of Chimbo, where they were met by the corregidor, the provincial alcalde, and the principal persons of the town; and on their nearer approach a number of Dominican monks, with a large portion of the inhabitants, came out with a troop of Indian dancing and singing boys to welcome them. Here they remained three days to refresh themselves after their fatiguing passage across the mountains; and then, continuing their journey, entered the desert of Chimborazo, keeping the mountain of the same name on the left, and travelling, over different eminences and heights, most of which were of sand, the snow for a great, distance forming, as it were, the sides of the mountain. During their journey across this desert they suffered greatly from the cold, the severity of which was much increased by the violence of the wind. They lodged at night in caverns in the rock; and on emerging from the more dreary part of the waste, passed the ruins of a palace of the ancient incas of Peru.