“We, the representatives of the people, assembled in council at Fort Garry, November 24, 1869, after having invoked the God of nations, … solemnly declare, in the name of our constitution and in our own name, before God and men, that we refuse to recognize the authority of Canada, which pretends to have the right to command us and impose upon us a despotic form of government.”
“We, the representatives of the people, assembled in council at Fort Garry, November 24, 1869, after having invoked the God of nations, … solemnly declare, in the name of our constitution and in our own name, before God and men, that we refuse to recognize the authority of Canada, which pretends to have the right to command us and impose upon us a despotic form of government.”
Later, however, they changed their opinion, and entered into negotiations with the federal government. But at the moment when all things had been arranged without bloodshed, the English colonists, who were very numerous around Lake Winnipeg, rose in insurrection against the half-breeds. The president of the latter, Louis Riel, who took upon himself therôleof dictator, had the leading mutineers seized, and their chief, named Scott, was tried, condemned and shot. Far from establishing his authority, this execution discouraged the natives themselves, and when two battalions of militia under Col. Wolseley arrived on the ground, they were welcomed as liberators by the half-breeds, and Riel, with his leading accomplices, fled to the United States. A compromise was then effected, and Manitoba was annexed to the Dominion as an autonomous province. It sends to Parliament two senators and five representatives. Winnipeg contains 30,000 inhabitants, and property has increased its value to an extraordinary degree, as the following anecdote will show: A parishioner of Archbishop Taché, obliged to leave the country, sought the archbishop, and excusing himself for not being able to pay the rent of his church pew, offered as part payment a small piece of land; “scarcely what would pay for a low mass,” timidly said the poor man. Ten years later that land brought $14,000.
In spite of the expenses occasioned by her canals and railroads, the people of the Dominion are, perhaps, among all the tax-payers of the civilized world, those upon whom the smallest rates are levied. There is no standing army, only a simple militia of about 50,000 men. The total expenses of government in 1884 amounted to $28,730,157. The receipts for the same year were $36,800,000. The minister of finances, in making out his estimates for the year 1885 placed them as follows: Expenses, $29,811,639; receipts, $31,000,000, which were to be raised as follows: Duties, $20,000,000; excises, $5,500,000; postoffice returns, $1,900,000; public works, $3,000,000; interest on investments, $750,000; other sources, $800,900. Duties on goods supply the source of two thirds of all the receipts. In 1880 they adopted a very strict system, which, without any distinction, exacts duties from English goods as from any other nation. On the other hand, England has granted to them the right of concluding treaties of commerce with foreign nations.
The only difference of opinion in regard to the question of tariff existing between the two parties is that the liberals wish the laws of entrance to be more moderate than the conservatives have made them, but neither of them will adopt the cosmopolitan theories of European free trade. The English compare protection to a bullet, Canadian tariff to a museum of instruments of torture, and declare that in following the example of the United States, the Dominion has forgotten the fable of the frog which wished to become as large as an ox. The Canadians hold that they shall do what they think best for their country, and that duties are the taxes least inconvenient to raise; that they save national work; and that they not only have made up the deficits of the past, but have put into the treasury an excess, so they have been able to reduce them to the amount of two and one-fourth millions dollars. The tariff for protection has become a tariff for revenue.
Since 1853 especially, public instruction has made great progress. These people who, under the patronage of the crown of England, have realized the ideal conception of a conservative and Christian republic, hold that public schools are among the luxuries of a young nation, and do not hesitate to impose upon themselves heavy sacrifices, as they believe they will result in good to their children. In the province of Quebec alone, government expended during the year 1882-83, $350,000 for school buildings, while the contributions paid directly by the people amounted to more than $2,000,000. In a population of 1,359,027 inhabitants, statistics show that there are 5,039 schools of different grades; 7,211 professors and teachers, and 245,225 scholars, making an average of one scholar for every six inhabitants. As to universities and colleges, they do not come under the school regulations, but are independent institutions, which, however, may receive appropriations from the government on condition of making a report each year to the superintendent. When in a school district there live a number of families who profess a different religion from that of the majority, they have the right to have for their children separate schools, under the care of three officials, chosen by them. Thus Catholics and Protestants have equal privileges, and everything is done to secure respect for religion, independence to the citizen, and his active and constant interest in educational matters. The circulars of the present superintendent, M. Ouimet, define in clear terms the spirit of the school laws in Quebec: “In our system of primary instruction we first teach the children the catechism of true religion, in order that they may know how to serve God; then the manuals of agriculture and of design, in order to put them in condition to serve their country.For God and country!Behold the words which the Canadian legislature has inscribed on the walls of her educational institutions. The state unites itself to the two systems of religion in the matter of education, and does not authorize any school to be atheistical, but demands of it to be Christian before it accords help. It does not provide that one church shall be helped rather than another. Full and entire liberty it demands, and from this comes perfect harmony among the people.”
Religious liberty marches by the side of educational liberty. Each church supports itself; the state no longer takes cognizance of clergy or congregations, to protect them, to annoy them, or to persecute. They can, as the citizens, found a university, a college, or a school.
Men such as Labelle and Racine have accomplished wonderful results in planting in the most barren regions, at the peril of their lives, strong and flourishing colonies. “Go west,” incessantly repeated Horace Greeley to young Americans. “Go north, French Canadians and Catholics,” said Father Labelle, with a prophetic foresight.
Canadian literature only dates back to 1840. Before that time it was made up of songs. Such a literature was absolutely essential to the gay and sociable race who consoled itself, in all its troubles, with stanzas. There was a time when France held the government under control by her songs. Did any Canadian patriot attract attention by some great deed? At once a song was written. Was the question that of elections? They addressed themselves to some crude poet, and sharp, malign couplets soon overran the country. The festival of St. Jean Baptiste has furnished many a contribution to this list, and Sir George Cartier owes in great part his popularity to the fact that he composed one for the first banquet, in 1834. Often among the remote rural districts are found people possessing magnificent tenor voices, which would make the fortune of an impressario who would come from the other side of the water to look them up.
“We are yet amateurs,” said one of their writers to me. Without endorsing this very modest judgment, one can but admit that up to the present time our American cousins have been more occupied with making history than with writing it. Action has absorbed thought. They have run, closely pressed on all sides, to the conquest of political liberties. The books which they published during their unsettled national history partook of the character of the times, as the great work of Garneau will show, which was a revelation to his countrymen, and was of more value to them than an army, since it assuredthem of a nation’s faith and the certainty of success. The greater part of the writers have been obliged to tax their ingenuity for a livelihood, and too often politics, that deceptive siren, keeps them from those severe studies which alone will bring talent to maturity.
In poetry, MM. Crémazie and Louis Fréchette have left behind them all rivals. High inspiration, poetic fervor, appreciation of nature, and love of country have made them true poets. One can not read without emotion some of the productions of M. Crémazie. His patriotic songs, which seem to have been breathed from the very heart of the country itself, in a language harmonious and vibrating, do not for an instant decline in interest or power. The verses of M. Fréchette are written in a graceful style, and possess a youthful freshness. In history, MM. l’Abbé Casgrain, Benjamin Sulte and Joseph Tassé have become distinguished. M. Tassé, in his book “Canadians of the West,” tells of the pioneers of the American continent, those who penetrated into the icy regions of the pole, who crossed the Rocky Mountains, and spread over the fertile plains of Mexico; and has shown that of them all the French in the Canadian settlements were the only ones who treated the Indians honorably and kindly, and who succeeded in winning their respect and affection.
The group of prose writers and romancers is increasing every day. One of the best, without doubt, is M. J. C. Taché, the author of three legends, each of which characterizes an epoch in the history of the Indians. M. de Gaspé, with his “Ancient Canadians,” and M. Joseph Marmette, with his historic romances have acquired a well merited reputation.
What, then, shall be the aim in the future of Canadian literature? To acquire new strength and vigor without ceasing the study of the past; to revive the glorious annals; to gather with a pious care its legends; to identify itself also with the present; to paint the manners and the contemporaneous social life; to note and to report the majestic symphony of their land; never to lose sight of the thought of Carlyle, that the universe is a temple as well as a workshop. Such will be the duty of Canadian writers.
The Canadians through all the years since their country passed out of the hands and the control of the French, have clung to them with great affection, drawn by some profound and mystic instinct, by the lines of heredity, the power of traditions, the religion of memory. They are not ignorant of the fact that if they had remained united to France, they would not now have, in all probability, their free social and religious institutions; they would likely have formed an administrative colony such as Algeria. They know that it was England who sent them, under hard circumstances, perhaps, to the school of liberty, and to her they are indebted for their prosperity, but they look to France still as their mother country. Why should not that country give them some more solid proof of its affection? While with South America the annual exchanges of France are counted by the hundred million, and great numbers of French people emigrate there, her total commerce with Canada does not exceed $15,000,000, and it is with great difficulty that she has commenced to send thither a few of her citizens. Why should not French emigration direct itself toward a country where wages are good, the soil fertile, where property offers itself to all, and where a welcome is awaiting them? Why should not the French go to visit the Canadians and learn of them how a people became and remain free?
BY CLARENCE COOK.
Under this heading it is intended to give in successive numbers ofThe Chautauquandescriptions of the principal Art Museums of our country: The Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts in Philadelphia, and the Corcoran Art Gallery in Washington. We begin in the present number with the Boston Museum.
In the year 1870 the trustees of the Boston Museum of Fine Arts were organized under a charter from the Massachusetts legislature. It was not, however, until 1876 that a building was erected in which the pictures, casts, antiquities, engravings and objects of curiosity which formed the nucleus of its present extensive collections could be exhibited to the public.
Up to the time when the first portion of the present building was erected, the amateur or the student of the fine arts in Boston or its neighborhood had been obliged to take a good deal of trouble, and to spend much time, if he would see the few objects that existed there—in public institutions or in private houses—in the domain of painting, sculpture, antiquities, or in that of the minor arts—now classed together in popular speech under the incorrect title of bric-a-brac.
Beside the permanent exhibition of the pictures which belonged to it, the Athenæum Library had generously devoted some of its rooms every season for several successive years to the exhibition of pictures painted by American artists, an exhibition answering to those held yearly by the National Academy of Design and the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts. Beside these regular exhibitions, there had been many occasional ones of importance, such as that of the Spanish pictures belonging to the Duc de Montpensier, which gave to those of us who had not visited Europe, the opportunity of seeing respectable specimens of the works of Zurbaran, Herrera, Morales, Murillo, Ribalta and Velasquez. There was also in the Athenæum a small but well selected collection of plaster-casts of antique sculpture, so that for a long time this institution was an art center of no little value and importance. The Athenæum was not, however, an art institution, but a library, and the time came when the increase of the library made it necessary to give up its art collections and devote all its space to books.
The collections of the Athenæum were the most important, both in number and in value, to be found in Boston, but there were many interesting objects scattered about which it was felt would be of much greater service to the community if they could be brought together under one roof, and made to work in common for the education of the whole community. The late Francis C. Gray had bequeathed to Harvard College his large and valuable collection of engravings together with a fund for its maintenance, and it was found that its usefulness, whether for purposes of enjoyment or as a means of education was very much restricted by its being so far away from the capital. Yet it had been impossible to find a proper place for it in Boston, and it therefore remained shut up in Cambridge. The Institute of Technology had formed, under the direction of Prof. William R. Ware, a collection of architectural ornament, but as this was lodged in the Institute building it could only be seen and studied at such times as suited the convenience of the professors and their pupils. The Social Science Association had called the attention of the public to the need that existed of a large and complete collection of casts of antique sculpture. But—what to do with such a collection, could it be brought together?
In a city like Boston, a want so deeply felt could not long remain unsatisfied, and the matter having been widely discussed,and a general interest created in the public mind, the first steps were taken with generous unanimity, and as has been stated, a charter was procured from the legislature, the Museum was organized by the naming of trustees, and the city having given a site, no difficulty was met with in raising a subscription of $261,000 toward a building. The plans of Messrs. Sturgis and Brigham, submitted in competition, were selected, and on the 3d of July, 1876, one wing of the front of the building was opened to the public. This was filled by the collections of the Athenæum, and by the Gray collection of engravings, both permanently loaned to the Museum, by the casts of antique sculptures purchased with funds bequeathed by the late Charles Sumner, the Egyptian collections presented by Mr. C. Granville Way, and valuable gifts from Mr. Lawrence and other persons. The space at the disposal of the trustees was soon overcrowded, and in 1878 a fresh subscription of $126,000 having been raised, the front was completed and opened to the public in 1879. At the present time of writing the need is seriously felt for more room, and it is hoped that the means may soon be provided for taking a third step toward the completion of the original plan of the building.
The building containing the collections of the Boston Museum of Fine Art is constructed of red brick and terra cotta on a basement of granite. It stands in the new quarter of the city, and is built like all other structures in that part of the city, on piles. It is rather ornate in its character, and compared with its massive neighbor, Trinity Church, has a somewhat effeminate look, but it is solidly built, and planned with great good sense, and with a steady view to convenience. On entering, the visitor finds himself in a large hall, in the center of which rises an ample staircase conducting to the second floor. At the right and left are doorways leading to the rooms containing the casts from antique sculpture. By taking either of these doorways we can make the circuit of the whole series of apartments, but as the present arrangement is only temporary, awaiting the completion of the building for a logical disposition of the material, it may be better to pass at once to the rear of the hall, and taking the door at the left hand, enter
The contents of this room were chiefly collected between the years 1828 and 1833, by a Scotch gentleman, Mr. Robert Hay. After his death they were purchased by Mr. C. Granville Way, of Boston, and presented to the Museum in 1872. Several fine pieces of sculpture, collected in Egypt in 1835 by the late Mr. John Lowell, the founder of the Lowell Institute, have been added to this room by the gift of Mr. Lowell’s heirs. The valuable and interesting casts from bas-reliefs and statues are the gift of General Charles G. Loring, the director of the Museum, to whose zeal and efficiency the institution owes so much of its usefulness.
The room is finely lighted by large windows, and General Loring, who is much interested in botany, generally keeps here a few fine specimens of tropical plants, especially such as belong to Egypt. Thus, on the occasion of my last visit, I had the pleasure of seeing there a fine specimen of the papyrus plant waving its graceful fans in salute to Pasht and Amenophis, hard by. The giant figure of Amenophis III., the Memnon of the Greeks (1500 B. C.) is a cast from the granite original in the British Museum. Near it is the statue of Pasht, the Cat-headed, in black granite, with the cartouch of Amenophis III., and there are also several blocks of red granite, probably portions of a throne, with a few fragments of sculpture—the colossal head of a king, pieces of the lid of a sarcophagus in green basalt, and two capitals cut out of sandstone, showing the lotos and papyrus forms. In the center of the room are several mummy cases, and in glass cases are disposed mummied heads, skulls, hands and feet, with mummies of animals, the cat, the dog, the dog-faced ape, the hawk and the ibis. In one of these cases is a hand still bearing a ring on the fourth finger. The remaining cases contain very interesting specimens of mummy-cloth of various dates and quality, one of the most important being a robe of justification supposed to be worn in the trial of the deceased before Osiris. It is sixteen feet in length by six feet nine inches in width, and has a fringe. The remaining contents of this room consist of various objects gathered from the tombs and from the mummy cases in such number and variety as to make it impossible to describe them in the narrow space at my command. But while there can be no doubt as to the value of the collection as a means of study in a field of wide interest and importance, it may be said, so far as art is concerned, the Way collection is of less value than the Abbott collection in the Historical Society of New York City. Each collection, however, supplements the other in a most interesting way, and taken together, they enable a student to make a fair beginning in the study of Egyptian antiquity.
Opens directly from the Egyptian Room, and contains casts of archaic and early Greek sculpture. Here will be found the Lions from the gate of Mycenæ, the funeral slabs of Orchomenos, of Aristion, and of the soldier of Marathon, the Dresden Pallas, the relief of Demeter, Persephone, and Triptolemus, from Athens, and the so-called Leucothea, and the infant Bacchus from the Villa Albani, with several interesting archaic reliefs from the same collection. There have lately been added to the Museum a number of the funeral slabs orstelediscovered at Athens and preserved in the museum there, objects of great beauty and interest, properly belonging, either in this room or in immediate connection with it, but placed for temporary convenience, in the Roman and Renaissance Room. The most important objects in this First Greek Room are the casts from the sculptures of the eastern and western Pediments of the Temple of Minerva at Egina, consisting of five figures from the eastern pediment and ten from the western, arranged as they are believed to have been originally. Passing from this room to
We find ourselves in the midst of a group of statues, most of them of the Praxitelean type and making too sharp a contrast by their grace and sensuous refinement to the hardness and severity of the contents of the room just left. It must be remembered, however, that owing to the small space at the command of the Museum authorities it has not been possible to follow a strict chronological order, and we must therefore be content for the present to follow the arrangement of the separate rooms. We have, therefore, here, the casts from the Parthenon frieze, the Theseus and the Fates from the eastern and the Ilissus from the western Pediment of the same building, with the Torso of the Victory, also from the eastern Pediment, together with several figures from the temple of the Wingless Victory (Nikè Apteros) on the acropolis. But space fails us to enumerate all the casts contained in the rooms devoted to antique sculpture; and why attempt a mere catalogue? The Venus of Milo is here, and the lately discovered Hermes with the infant Dionysus, the Niobe and her daughter, the Ludovisi Mars, the Diana of the Louvre, the Apollo Belvidere, the Eirene and Plutus, the Faun of Praxiteles, and the glorious mask of the Ludovisi Juno. Indeed, we miss few works of prime importance, and there are many casts here that can not be found elsewhere in America, and which are yet essential to even a superficial study of the rise and progress of Greek sculpture. Passing on, we come to the other rooms where are the Laocoön, the Dying Gladiator, the younger Agrippina, the Sophocles, the Demosthenes, the Menander, the Æsculapius, the Discobulus, the Silenus and the infant Bacchus, and the Boy taking a Thorn from his Foot (the Spinario), with many another famous and less famous work, enabling us to carry on the study until the stream dies away to rise again in new beauty in the art of the early Italian Renaissance. While nocapital piece can be said to be wanting to this collection there remain many pieces to be added which are needed for fullness of knowledge, but every year sees important acquisitions, and there can be no doubt, judging from the past history of the Museum, that if the wished for addition to the building could be made, the missing gaps in the sculpture would speedily be filled up by gift. But before leaving the antique rooms we must mention the two sarcophagi from Vulci, now deposited in the Museum, and which, it is earnestly to be hoped, will become its property, since they are not only deeply interesting in themselves, but have an added value from their great rarity. They represent the bodies of two married pair reposing upon the lids of the two sarcophagi, as on the marriage-bed. The finer of the two groups is carved in alabaster, the other is in travertine; the one in alabaster has a monumental beauty and sweet dignity that is surpassed by nothing of the kind that exists, and considering its great beauty and rarity it is said there is only one other example of this treatment of the subject, and that is in the Vatican.
Crossing the Hall of Entrance, to which we have returned, we find ourselves in the last of the antique sculpture rooms, where are placed some of the most interesting of the Roman works just enumerated. Nothing would be gained by an attempt to catalogue the rooms at present, as their contents are likely to be changed at any time when the projected enlargement of the Museum is carried out. The space in this portion of the building, the addition built in 1879, answering to that occupied in the older portion by the first and second Greek Rooms, is here thrown into one large apartment filled with the
The principal object here is the cast of the Caryatid Portico of the Pandroseion, one of the portions of the complex structure generally called the Erechtheium, from the name of one of its parts dedicated to the worship of Erechtheus. The Portico with its Caryatids is given here of the full size of the original, and is so placed (until the great court can be built in which these large objects are to be shown) that a good view of it can be obtained from a considerable distance, while it is well lighted by a large window at one side. The remaining objects in this room are casts in great numbers from Greek and Roman architectural ornament, from the ornament of the Italian Renaissance, from the Alhambra, from the Gothic buildings of France, Germany and England, the specimens from England including twelve out of the thirty angels composing the so-called angel choir of Lincoln Cathedral. These figures of angels playing on musical instruments are of the thirteenth century, and are among the most beautiful works of their time. In this room again we find it impossible to do justice to our subject; the variety is too great and the range of artistic development covered by the example too extensive to be dismissed in less than an entire article, and even that would be insufficient. Turning to the right at the end of this room we come to
Where the works of Michelangelo, Donatello, Ghiberti, Luca della Robbia, and a few other such names meet us in some of their best works. Here is the Lorenzo of Michelangelo with the statues of Day and Night, the David of Donatello, the Cupid of Michelangelo with his unfinished bas-relief of the Virgin and Child, the Mercury of John of Bologna, and various bas-reliefs of the time with the singing boys of Donatello and those of Luca della Robbia. Here, too, is the cast of the trial plate, “The Sacrifice of Isaac,” made by Ghiberti in competition with Brunelleschi and Donatello for the Florence Baptistery Gates, interesting in itself, and in connection with that most important event in the history of modern art.
The last room on this floor is filled with specimens of Greek, Roman, and Asia Minor pottery, with a sufficient number of examples of the sculpture, pottery, and glass of Cyprus, a small but well-chosen group of figurines from Tanagra, and the results of the late researches at Assos by the members of the American Society of Archæology. This room is full of interesting objects, but it is uncomfortably crowded and necessarily ill-arranged. In the next article we shall describe the contents of the second floor of the Museum.
Report of a lecture delivered March 7th in the National Museum of Washington, D. C., by Mr. Wm. T. Hornaday, Chief Taxidermist of the Museum.
The island of Borneo is the home of the Head-hunter, the land of the orang-utan, the Garden of the Sun, and perhaps even the sepulchre of the missing link. There is a possibility of its being the cradle of a great empire which shall be at the zenith of its glory when the greatness of the United States shall have passed away, like that of Greece and Rome, and Washington have become the Athens of America. The center of human progress will probably eventually move into regions now peopled by savages only, and the Kaffir or Dyak of the thirtieth century will perhaps study the archæology of the Yankee with the same interest that we now bestow upon the ruins of Carthage and Mycenæ.
Borneo is situated nearly in the middle of the Malay Archipelago. Its greatest length is 850 miles, greatest width 630 miles, and its area is 192,000 square miles. The whole of New England, the Middle States and Virginia could be set down in the evergreen forests, which everywhere cover its surface, and still be surrounded by a wide belt of jungle. The whole interior is very mountainous. The rivers and creeks are the highways of Borneo, and other roads are practically unknown. Nothing could be more arduous, and full of risk to life and limb, than overland travel through such dense forests and over such rugged mountains as confront the explorer at every step. The interior is practically an uninhabitable wilderness. Even in this age of daring and persevering travelers, no white man has ever crossed the island from one side to the other. The interior is still a land of mystery, whence come marvelous accounts of a race of men with tails, with detailed descriptions of their appearance and habits, stories implicitly believed by many natives. The climate of Borneo is what one would least expect, considering its equatorial position. The temperature is very agreeable all the year round. The mercury usually stands at 80° Fahrenheit in the morning, 88° at midday, seldom reaching 90°, and never exceeding 93°. The annual variation of temperature is only 24°—from 69° to 93°. Usually there are about 200 rainy days in the year, and from 158 to 178 inches of rain.
The vegetation of Borneo is probably unsurpassed by that of any other country in the world, either in luxuriance, economic value, or, the possession of wonderful forms. On the spurs of Mount Kina Balu are found four species of pitcher plants (Nepenthes), of marvelous size and form and gorgeous colors. The largest pitchers ofNepenthes rajahmeasure thirteen inches in length, twenty in circumference, and hold five pints of water. Among the curiosities of vegetation is the tapang tree, which, in lieu of spur roots, throws out enormous slab-like buttresses. Thecocoapalm bears a bountiful crop of nuts, which in turn yield oil and a coarse kind of sugar. Thesagopalm yields the valuable pearl sago of commerce. Thearecapalm produces the betel-nut, which, together with a fresh pepper-leaf and a bit of moist lime, is in the mouth of nearly every East Indian native in lieu of tobacco. Thenipapalm yields salt, toddy, excellent syrup and sugar, and the leaves are made into kadjangs for boat awnings and roofing material for houses. Thegomoutipalm produces the best toddy, and the cabbage is esteemed by the natives as food. Thenibongpalm is valuable for its timber. The primeval forests are rich in timber trees, one of which, thebilian, furnishes wood which seemingly never decays. Bamboo grows abundantly in the interior, and is of great use to the natives.
Of the many fruits of the forest we can only refer to the durian. In size and shape it resembles a roundish pineapple, and is set all over with sharp conical spines, three fourths of an inch long, and stout enough to pierce the hide of a rhinoceros. When the fruit is ripe, the pod opens of its own accord. Although the smell of the pod is most offensive, we find inside four or five large cells, in each of which are from three to five horse-chestnuts, coated thickly with the most delicious paste that ever tickled the palate of man.
The agricultural products consist of sago, gambier, rice, sugar-cane and cotton, which is grown to a limited extent by the Dyaks. The cultivation of coffee is now engaging the attention of enterprising English planters, and may eventually become the most important industry of the island.
The whole island teems with animal life in great variety of forms. It would appear, judging from the success of Mr. A. R. Wallace, to be a paradise for the entomologist. This gentleman once collected seventy-six species of beetles in one day, many of which were new and of remarkable form, and during his stay of fifteen months in Sarawak he took over 500 species. There are a number of handsome species of butterflies, including the magnificentOrnithoptera Brookana. This butterfly is eight inches in width, and of a rich, velvety black color, on which is a broad band of metallic green scales, resembling a humming-bird’s feathers. Of all insects Borneo is richest in moths. At one place, on a mountain top, Mr. Wallace took 200 specimens in a single night, representing 130 species. In the same place he took in twenty-six nights 1,300 specimens of moths.
The fishes include quite a variety of fresh-water species, among which may be mentioned the curious tree-climbing perch, the thread-fish, the celebratedgourami, the jumping-fish, orPeriophthalmus, which hops about on land in search of small crustaceans stranded by the receding tide; and the very rare and curious little fish known to icthyologists asLuciocephalus pulcher. The Malays capture a great many fish in small streams by poisoning the water with an extract made from the pounded roots of the tuba plant, and either spearing or netting the fish when they rise to the surface to breathe.
Among the reptiles, the most important is the crocodile, which attains a maximum length of seventeen feet, and is very destructive to human life. It seldom happens that a person escapes or is rescued, after being seized in this burly reptile’s powerful jaws. Some years ago the Sarawak government began a war of extermination against the crocodiles, by offering a reward of 35 cents a foot for all killed in the Territory. In 1878, 266 crocodiles were killed, and $738 paid out in rewards. I discovered a crocodile’s nest containing fifty-five eggs. The native crocodile hunters use hook and line. The hook, oralir, as it is called by the Malays, is a simple contrivance made of wood, tied at the end of a tough bark rope. Another saurian, the gavial, is found in Borneo. It is not unlike that of the Ganges, called by Dr. Gray,Tomistoma schlegelli. This species inhabits the headwaters of some of the rivers, and is rarely seen. In the swampy forest near the coast, small reptiles are very abundant. There are pythons in Borneo twenty-four feet long. Two twelve-foot specimens were brought to me, and a monster python twenty feet six inches long, I purchased alive in a cage, and put to death for its skin and skeleton.
Notwithstanding the contrary opinion of many observers, I think it can not be said with truth that Borneo is rich in bird-life. There are 392 species on the island. The finest bird is the argus pheasant. In life its plumage has a soft, velvety richness which is never seen in a dry specimen. These birds are extremely shy, and are taken by the natives in snares. Hornbills of several varieties are numerous. A bird of great commercial value is the swallow which builds the edible nest, so dear to the palate of the Chinese mandarin. These nests are built in caves, and are of a gelatinous substance resembling white glue. Their shape is like a small soup ladle with a broad, flat handle about an inch long. There are two kinds of nests, the white and the black, the former being most prized. A picul (133 pounds) of these is worth from two to three thousand dollars.
Borneo is favored with a great variety of very interesting mammals. So far as is at present known, there are ninety-six species, thirty-three of which are not found elsewhere. In apes and monkeys the island is especially rich. At the head of the list is the huge, red-haired orang-utan, of which we will speak presently. Then comes the long-nosed monkey, with its immense flabby proboscis. TheNasalisis a large species of monkey, found in the same localities as the orang, always over the water, and usually in large troops. It is something marvelous to watch a troop of monkeys, when terrified by an attack with firearms. They head directly away from the danger, and gallop madly through the tree-tops along the larger branches. Another interesting mammal is the long-armed ape,Hylobates concolor. This animal is extremely wary, and so rapid in its flight as to render pursuit exceedingly difficult. The flying lemur is also found here. Another curious monkey is the tarsier, a small, nocturnal animal. The krah,Macacus cynomolgus, actually swarms in the low trees along the river banks. The clouded leopard, the otter-cat, and civet cats of two species occur, and also several other small members of the cat tribe. Two species of bear are found, the smallest known. The Indian elephant occurs in the extreme northeastern part of the island; also the rhinoceros and tapir. These three are very rare. The thin-haired deer is very common in Sarawak Territory, and is frequently noosed by the natives. The muntjac, or rib-faced deer, is occasionally met. Wild hogs are very abundant and destructive. They sometimes measure forty inches at the shoulder, and are good swimmers. Many beautiful squirrels are found here, and also, remarkable bats, the bear cat, otter, porcupines, and other small mammals which fall an easy prey to the hunter-naturalist.
The orang-utan is found only in Borneo and Sumatra, but is more abundant in the former island. It is most numerous in the Sarawak Territory. This animal occupies the fourth highest place in the animal kingdom—first, man; second, gorilla; third, chimpanzee; and fourth, orang-utan. This name signifies “Jungle-man,” and is derived from two Malay words, “orang,” man, and “utan,” jungle. The latter word is usually corrupted into “otang” or “outang.” The animal itself is rare and difficult to find. In August, 1878, I went on a hunting expedition for orangs to the Sadong River, at the mouth of which I settled and commenced prospecting. One day two men arrived from the headwaters of the Simujan River. They said they had seen twomias(orangs), and suggested that I should go up to their village for a week or so. This I did, and was very successful, taking thirty-one orangs during my first month. In my visit of three months I secured forty-three orangs. Of these twenty-seven fell to my rifle, the remainder being shot for me by natives. Our plan of hunting was to paddle leisurely up and down the streams in a Malay sampan, or dug-out canoe, and watch the tree-tops on both sides as far back as we could see. I was armed with a Maynard rifle and field glass, while three stout Malays or Dyaks furnished the motive power at the paddles. Once in sight of an orang it was a comparatively easy matter to send a ball into its breast. On one occasion, while paddling up the Simujan River on abright forenoon in September, the Malay suddenly exclaimed “Mias! Mias! Tuan!” The other paddlers backed water at once, but we saw nothing until the boat had been backed several yards. Then we espied simply the knee of a large orang which was lying asleep on a branch about twenty feet above the water, and twenty yards from us. Its body was completely hidden by the foliage, so I stood up in the boat and fired at its leg to arouse it. It started up instantly, growling hoarsely with pain and rage, and started to swing away with a reach that was surprising in its length. Fortunately, the water was deep; there were no screw-pines to hinder our progress, and in a moment our sampan was directly under the old fellow, who then climbed high into the tree-top to escape us. It was a huge old mias chappin, the species with the expanded cheeks, long-haired, big and burly. It growled savagely at us, and one of my Malays kept saying, “Chappin! Mias Chappin! Fire, sir, fire! That’s Mias Chappin. Big—big.” My companions were all intensely excited, but I knew the old fellow was ours, and waited for a good shot. In a moment the opportunity came, and I fired twice in quick succession at the orang’s breast. It stopped suddenly, hung for a moment by its hands, then its hold gave way, and it came plunging downward, snapped off a large dead limb on the way, and fell broadside into the water, with a tremendous splash which sent the spray flying all over us. As we seized the arms and pulled the massive head up to the surface of the water, the old fellow gave a great gasp, and looked reproachfully at us out of his half-closed eyes. I will never forget the strange, and even awful sensation with which I regarded the face of the dying monster. There was nothing in it in the least suggestive of anything human, but I felt as if I had shot some grim and terrible gnome or river-god—a satyr, indeed. It was a perfect giant in size, larger than even the natives had ever seen before. Its head, body and limbs were of grand proportions, and its weight could not have been much, if any, less than 190 pounds. This individual is now in the National Museum, to the extreme left of the group of orangs in the Mammal Hall. The tallest specimen I secured measured four feet six inches, but my largest one, that just described, measured half an inch less in height.
There are two species of orang found in Borneo:Simia Wurmbii, characterized in the males by very broad, flat cheek calossities, andSimia satyrus. English naturalists recognize a third species,Simia morio, but without any tenable grounds for doing so.
Orangs in a state of nature are seldom if ever seen on the ground. At night this animal builds a nest in the forks of a tree or on the top of a small sapling, by breaking off a quantity of green boughs, and piling them in the crotch. On these he lies upon his back, grasping with hands and feet the largest branches within reach. Orangs are perfectly harmless to human beings unless brought to bay on the ground. They are then as fierce as tigers. Their food consists of wild fruits, particularly the durian when in season, the tender shoots of thePandanus, and the leaves of certain trees.
Although the aboriginal inhabitants of Borneo are divided into several tribes and scores of sub-tribes or clans, they may with reasonable exceptions be described as one body, or sub-race, viz.: Dyaks. In general terms, a Dyak may be described as a Bornean semi-savage, of Malay extraction, with straight black hair, a yellowish brown complexion, and smooth face of the Malay type. He is rather below medium stature, but athletic, and of active and warlike disposition. He is usually clad only in a bark loin-cloth, but sometimes wears a sleeveless jacket, and particularly in war, on which occasions it is made of skins or padded cloth. He is armed with sword and spear, and possibly thesumpitanalso for blowing poisoned arrows. He invariably lives in the jungle, in a long house-village set up high on posts. Although he has no religion whatever, and worships nothing, he has profound regard for the rights of property, respects his wife, and treats her and his children with the highest consideration. His sustenance is rice, fowls, pigs and fruit grown by himself, wild animals slain in the forest, and wild fruit, supplemented by a few things which he receives in exchange for wax, gum, rattans and gutta, although these are generally given for brass-wire, beads, cloth and other ornaments. He has no written languages, builds no monuments, makes no pottery, and only one kind of coarse cloth, carves rather neatly in wood, and works but little in iron. His bearing is independent, dignified, respectful. He is a trustworthy friend, but a dangerous foe.
In my judgment the aboriginal inhabitants of Borneo may be divided into four great tribes: The Kyans, Mongol Dyaks, Land Dyaks and Sea Dyaks. This classification differs very widely from any hitherto proposed.[K]
The Kyan tribe is numerically the greatest, probably exceeding a quarter of a million. They are less civilized than the other tribes, are exceedingly warlike and aggressive. They decapitate their slain enemies, and keep the cleaned skulls as trophies.
The Mongol Dyaks inhabit northeastern Borneo. They have been greatly influenced by contact with the Chinese, with whom they have intermarried. In appearance they resemble the other Dyaks.
The Land Dyaks inhabit the country lying between the Sadong River and the headwaters of the Sambas, extending southward to the Kapurce, and an unknown distance beyond. They live inland, and differ in certain customs from their neighbors, the Sea Dyaks. The Land Dyaks are the only people in Borneo who burn their dead. The warriors, though brave, are not fond of war for its own sake, nor are they possessed with an insatiable desire for plunder, as are the Kyans, and formerly the Sea Dyaks also. Their social customs closely resemble those of the Sea Dyaks.
The Sea Dyaks consist of seven clans, and occupy all the territory between the Rejang and Sadong rivers, from the sea-coast southward to the Kapurce. The Sarawak government estimates their number at 90,000, and the Land Dyaks at 35,000. The color of a typical Sea Dyak is dark brown, with a strong tinge of yellow. His hair is long and of a glossy black, and falls on his shoulders in graceful locks.
The Dyaks are happy and contented. Their wants are few, their diseases fewer, and their crimes fewer still. In hospitality, human sympathy and charity, they are not outranked by any people living, as far as I know, and their morals are as much superior to ours as our intelligence is beyond theirs. If happiness is the goal of human existence, the Dyak is much nearer to it than we. In this instance, at least, the highest civilization has not evolved the most perfect state of society. Is it possible that man reaches his highest moral development in a state of savagery? Is it then really true that as we increase in civilized intelligence, our capacities and propensities for wickedness increase likewise, and if so, will this always be the case with mankind?
[K]For elaborate discussions of these tribes the reader must consult Mr. Hornaday’s book, “Ten Years in the Jungle, with Rifle and Knife,” which has been announced by its publishers, Messrs. Charles Scribner’s Sons, as nearly ready for circulation.
[K]For elaborate discussions of these tribes the reader must consult Mr. Hornaday’s book, “Ten Years in the Jungle, with Rifle and Knife,” which has been announced by its publishers, Messrs. Charles Scribner’s Sons, as nearly ready for circulation.
[K]For elaborate discussions of these tribes the reader must consult Mr. Hornaday’s book, “Ten Years in the Jungle, with Rifle and Knife,” which has been announced by its publishers, Messrs. Charles Scribner’s Sons, as nearly ready for circulation.
I am here because God has sent me to do a work that no other being could do but myself. Had there not been room for me, God had not made me. Had I not been needed in America, God had not placed me in America. Had I not work in the nineteenth century, I had not been born.… I have a place—am sent of God on a mission, and if I perform it God shall acknowledge that I have done His will.—From Sermons by Bishop Simpson.
The ordinary village fails to get the best out of life. A candid examination of average boys or girls of the town or country, brought up without the influence of outside advantages, too often reveals the fact that they are not, in refinement, in resources or in thought, the equal of city young people. There is a painful feeling that they are narrow. Indeed, they feel this themselves, and complain that they have “no opportunities.” At the same time the narrow life does not shield them from temptation, and there are almost as many young men in America going to ruin under the narrowing influences of country and town life as in the whirl of cities.
Among women the influence is evident. They are, it is true, largely free from the temptations of frivolity, extravagance and dissipation, but they are subject to temptations of no light weight. Their few interests lead them to gossiping, prying and criticising. Lines of class distinction are drawn so painfully tight that their lives become narrow in sympathies and associations. Very largely they lack independence of spirit to help them dare untried lines of conduct. Many of our American villages and “corners” are the most trying places in the land in which to live. Few dare to try improvements, enthusiasm meets little or no response, ideas travel slowly. Village lifelooksideal to one wearied by the rush and wickedness of a city, but there is in it a peculiarly benumbing influence which is all the more difficult to contend against because so silent in its action. Yet there are two of the best conditions for high living in the surroundings of town and country. There are leisure and quiet. Anything which will impregnate this rare life with enthusiasm and energy will furnish the happiest conditions for noble action and steady growth.
It is not an easy problem for a reformer in such a locality, but we believe Mrs. Campbell in her “What-to-do Club” offers a solution which will rarely fail among girls and women. “The What-to-do Club” is an unpretending story, but it has a practical grip on this question. It introduces us to a dozen or more village girls of varying ranks. One has had superior opportunities; another exceptional training; two or three have been “away to school;” some are farmers’ daughters; there is a teacher, two or three poor self-supporters—in fact, about such an assemblage as any town between New York and Chicago might give us. But while there is a large enough company to furnish a delightful coterie, there is absolutely no social life among them. The differences in their opportunities they have exaggerated until they feel that their interests are as unlike as those of Fijis and Bostonians. They look at each other with curiosity merely, and all of them are bored by the dullness of their lives. Mrs. Campbell puts a wise woman into their midst. This woman’s experience has taught her that the barrier between women of different sets is largely their ignorance of each other, their belief that they have nothing in common. She finds something in common for these girls. By a little tact, exerted at a village gathering, she interests them in herself. A second stroke of policy finds them gathered in her parlor and she clinches her work by giving them an insight into practical employments—not pleasures, mind you—but work, for women at home. The interest excited quickens them all. They become alert, capable, quick-witted, and suddenly see in each other much of which they had never before dreamed. The false barriers between women invariably fall before a common interest. Show them how strangely their minds and lives are alike and the sympathy of similarity makes friends of them. So the girls of the “What-to-do Club” found, at any rate. Their meetings became voyages of discovery. Their discoveries were El Dorados to many a one of their number perplexed by the want of pin-money, or worse still, of bread-money. Simple, practical, at-home occupations for leisure hours was the first study, and it is marvelous what a number they found. One young lady undertakes strawberry culture, and in a single season clears, off a quarter of an acre, $154.65. Better still, her vigorous out-of-door life transforms a pair of pale, hollow cheeks until they are rosy and plump, and awakens healthful interest which soon makes a happy heart out of a very discontented one. A half acre put into small fruits, currants, raspberries and blackberries, opens the way for an active young philanthropist to start a fund for a future kindergarten for her father’s employés. It does more. It opens the young lady’s eyes to the dignity of work, puts a bond of sympathy between her and the people who work for her, and strengthens the common sense of her whole family. Our strawberry girl tries poultry and finds it the most delightful of employments. It pays her, too, one season’s work yielding a clear profit of $86.56 on an expenditure of $73.40. Bees, with their fascinating history, their exciting family affairs, their industrious honey making, and their clear, unfailing profit came in for one young Busybody’s attention, and in a single season this young merchant clears $113.94. One girl tries silk worms and sends to the club this report of her summer’s work:
One of the best discoveries which the club makes is of the possibilities in fruit canning, jelly making, and, best of all, fruit evaporating. Like “Dorothy” of the “club,” when we read of the wonders of the latter we burned to “live in an orchard and evaporate everything that grows.” How wonderful it seemed to these girls to whom fruit preserving had been bounded by the limits of the fruit closet and the demands of the table, to put up jelly for market, to “take in” canning for people too busy to do their own, to dry fruit in that wonderful evaporator, which would sell in any market in the country.
It is not strange that these new ideas put into their lives new possibilities. It showed them that there was something to do at home, something which was more than a paying employment. For these out-of-door interests are more. They are health-giving, awakening pursuits. The girl that engages in such enterprises wins more than a few dollars; she cultivates the business faculty and arouses a dormant independence which makes a new creature out of her. This new interest in the lives of Mrs. Campbell’s girls gave them an interest, at first in purely money making enterprises, but it soon knit them into friends. Their friendship spread until they found themselves reading, studying, planning, as one body. The influence in the story energizes the community. It is, perhaps, quite possible that in a real club we might meet with more discouragements, but it is impossible that we fail entirely.
Town and country need more improving, enthusiastic work to redeem them from barrenness and indolence. Our girls need a chance to do independent work, to study practical business, to fill their minds with other thoughts than the petty doings of neighbors. A What-to-do Club is one step toward higher village life. It is one step toward disinfecting a neighborhood of the poisonous gossip which floats like a pestilence around localities which ought to furnish the most desirable homes in our country.