1859 THE PHOTOGRAPHIC NEWS
Vol. I Sept. 10, 1858 – March 4, 1859; vol. II March 11,
1859 –
Sept. 2, 1859; vol. III Sept. 9, 1859 – April 27, 1860*
*NOTE: Only 1859 sections transcribed in this section
ver: Aug. 19, 2022
START: Oct. 14 p.68 and continue transcribing all of Rossier letters and reviews of N&Z
NOTES:
--Italics have been retained from publications, which use them for both titles as well as emphasis. To more easily locate image titles, I have continued this italicization when titles have been rendered in all capitols or put in quotes, however italics have NOT been used when the general subject of an image is mentioned.
--Image numbers listed in articles can be either an entry number in an exhibition, or the photographer’s own image number as found on labels.
--All names have been bolded for easy location. Numbers frequently refer to the photographer’s image number, but can also refer to a number in a catalog for a show. Decide whether to bold or not if can tell.
--It is not always possible in lists of photographers to know when two separate photographers are partners or not, e.g., in a list, “Smith and Jones” sometimes alludes to two separate photographers and sometimes to one photographic company. Both names will be highlighted and indexed but a partnership may be wrongly assumed. Any information to the contrary would be appreciated.
-- Brackets [ ] are used to indicate comments supplied by the transcriber; parenthesis
( ) are as used in the original sources. If the original source has used brackets, they have been transcribed as parenthesis to avoid confusion.
--“illus” means that I have the view mentioned and should be scanned and included.
--Articles by photographers about technical matters – only name and titles have been listed. If other names are associated with the paper they are listed as well.
--Meetings of Societies – Names of officers, members attending or referenced, dates and locations of meetings have been given. If the reports are very short or discuss photographs, then the articles have been copied; if administrative or technical in nature, they have not.
-- Some journals, e.g., The Art-Journal, cover both photographer and painting/drawing. As they frequently refer to the production of both the photographer and the painter as “pictures” it is not always possible to tell when photography is indicated. If there is doubt, it will be included but a note will be added stating that the names listed may in fact not be photographers.
--Mostly articles totally discussing technical aspects of photography, products, etc. are not transcribed unless they are part of a larger article covering photographs. When technical descriptions are too lengthy to transcribe that is noted.
--Cultural sensitivity – these are direct transcriptions of texts written in the 19th-century and reflect social comments being made at that time. Allowances must be made when reading some texts, particularly those dealing with other cultures.
1859: P News, Jan. 14, vol. I, #19, p. 207-08:
Critical Notices.
Exhibition of the Architectural Photographic Association* (*Concluded from page 198)
The inspection of the views by Cade has given us much pleasure. These views are small compared with those we have already noticed, but they are exquisitely fine in tone and detail. “The Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge” (157) is very clear in tone, and the perspective is very effective; even the ornamentation at the side of the picture is clear and distinct. “Corpus Christi College, Cambridge” (158), is not as equal in tone as the former. The body of the picture is too dark, while the turrets at the top of the building are too white. “Sir Isaac Newton’s Tower, Trinity College” (159), has many of the characteristics of a good photograph; in it we see great equality of tone, and the tint, which is of a grayish colour, adds much to the effect. In the photograph of “St. John’s College, New Buildings, Cambridge” (161), there is a particular softness, combined with minute microscopic detail. In this picture there is greater perfection than in any one of the series, and it is particularly free from spots and defects. “Interior—Trinity Library” (178), is a good photograph of a difficult subject. It will be seen that a very good light was shining through the windows when the photograph was being taken. This does much to spoil the effect of a picture, as intense light always destroys effect. The ceiling is very finely given. “Walberswich Church, Suffolk” (179), is a well executed photograph, and has much more foreground detail than many of Mr. Cade’s pictures. Altogether these views by Mr. Cade do him great credit, and we hope to see some more by the same artist in future exhibitions. The brilliant and beautiful photography by Frith of Egyptian scenery are already so well known to the majority of our readers, that it would be superfluous on our part to criticise them at any great length. They possessed such merit, and received such well deserved encomiums, that it is almost matter of surprise that any one should have attempted to photograph Cairo so soon after Frith had done it. However, we have here a series of views of Cairo; by Robertson and Beato, not so large, nor yet so beautiful, as those of Frith. We do not intend going into detail; suffice it to say, that they have all the characteristics and peculiarities of oriental photographs. Many of the views are extremely interesting, among which we may mention the ‘Tomb of the Mamelukes” (198), and the “Tombs of the Mamelukes and Caliphs” (203). In many of the photographs there is great nicety of detail, and generally the sites are well selected.
The next series are the old Spanish views by Lousada. We are astonished to see these photographs here, since, apart from the interest attaching to those views themselves, there is nothing to recommend them as photographs, and they are very bad as architectural studies; for instance, in some of the architectural views illustrated there is really a great deal of fine detail, but in the photographs by Lousada there is nothing but masses of black and white, with no half-tone. A few Oxford views by Cocke are very mediocre indeed. They will not bear the slightest comparison with Cade’s Cambridge views; or even with any of the Oxford views we have seen. They have some few good points, but are generally too dark. We cannot say much of the selection of the site for the “Bird’s eye view of Westminster Abbey” (258)’ if we are to judge of the artist’s ideas by the results, we can only say that he has attempted to take, in addition to the bird’s-eye view of the Abbey, as many of the intervening chimneys as could be got into the picture. Baldus’s Paris views are certainly the worst we have ever seen executed by this artist. They are not clear in tone, nor interesting in subject. He has introduced into one an artificial sky, which we do not like. Indeed, we are surprised to find that a photographer, who has earned such well-deserved laurels as M. Baldus, has allowed such very bad pictures to leave his studio.
Taking the photographs as they are catalogued, we next come to the Egyptian views by Frith; of these there can not be two opinions—they have deservedly established the reputation of Mr. Frith as a first-class photographer. Of the English views by the same artist, we cannot speak so highly. There is, if we may use the term, a decided mannerism in them. They are treated exactly in the same way as the Egyptian views; each photograph having a great intensity of black and white, and looking as though they had been taken under a scorching Eastern sun. This is a fault which is rendered more strikingly apparent by the contrast it offers to the Egyptian views. In the Eastern views there is much detail, while, in the English views, foliage is rendered in black masses. The view of “Inverness” (308*) [sic; no further ref. to *] is a most faulty picture; it is full of spots, and is altogether a very bad photograph. The water in the foreground is especially bad, while the stones in the bed of the river appear much as though spots of soot had accidentally fallen on the negative. There is an exquisite little view here by Cade, of the “Terrace at Sir William Middleton’s,” which we are inclined to think far surpasses any of those pictures already noticed. The views by Gutch, the “Exterior and Interior of Holyrood Chapel” (311 F, 311G), are not equal to some we have seen by this artist.
Since the exhibition of the photographs of the Royal Engineers at South Kensington, we are not enabled to perceive any advance in the manipulation of these military photographers, if the “Rochester New Bridge,” and the “Rochester Cathedral” (311H, 311K), are to be taken as specimens of progress.
And now we come to the most charming series of pictures in the collection. When we say they are executed by Bedford, need we say more? There are twelve views which have been “taken expressly for the association.” We cannot help thinking that, when the association obtained Mr. Bedford’s services, they ought at least to have asked him to have chosen some other subject than “Tintern Abbey.” We have had this splendid ruin ad nauseum. The only thing that makes the present views at all bearable, is the astonishing perfection in which they are rendered. When we compare the views by Cocke with those by Mr. Bedford, we are then enabled to judge how far Mr. Bedford can surpass all other photographers in his execution. In no piece is this so perceptible as in the “View of the Choir looking East” (312), and in the same view by Cocke. In the one there is clearness of tone, detail in the foliage, and a beautiful perspective half tint as seen through the window of the Abbey; the foliage in the background is
given with the greatest nicety: while in the other we have few or none of the characteristics of Bedford’s photographs, and the foliage as seen through the window is only discernible in small patches. “The West Door, Tintern Abbey” (321), is a marvelously clear photograph; even the large nails in the door are easily discernible. But decidedly the best views are “The Donjon, Raglan Castle” (315); “The Entrance Gate, Raglan Castle” (317). In these we can see almost the form of every le3af, clear without even the aid of a glass; all the foliage is crisp, and every sprig of the delicate tendrils of the creeper as it reaches upward, looks as though it were a copy of some finely penciled picture; indeed, the mass of foliage seems almost to invite one to put one’s hand among the leaves. We confess we are at a loss to do full justice to these inimitable photographs. By the aid of a magnifying glass the detail of the grass could be almost seen. No photographer who exhibits in the present collection can compare with Bedford for the clearness of his foregrounds; whilst the lens with which these views were taken must be as near perfection as human skill could make it. There is a number of photographer here by Mr. Bedford which were exhibited in 1857. They are beautiful, but when we compare them with the new pictures, they show how decided are the marks of progress in Mr. Bedford’s manipulative skill. The most beautiful of the old series is the celebrated “Baptistry of Canterbury Cathedral” (340), which attracted so much attention when first exhibited.
Of the Italian views by Ponti we are not able to say much. They lack what is needful to make them good photographs. There is a fault in them which seems to be prevalent in the pictures exhibited in this collection—too much black and white, and a want of half-tone. Some have many good points, but generally speaking, they are not such as to merit a long notice.
In conclusion we can only remark, that we think it would be almost desirable to introduce stereoscopic views as a part of the exhibition. One of the leading objects of the association is “to form a collection of photographs for the association; and, if thought desirable, to exhibit them;” and, of course, to distribute them to subscribers. There are many persons who would gladly subscribe, if among the photographs there were some good stereoscopic slides—such, for instance, as those by Sedgfield, which we recently had occasion to notice.
1859: P News, Jan. 14, vol. I, #19, p. 221:
Photography in China.
The old adage that “there is many a slip ‘twixt the cup and the lip” has been unpleasantly realised in the case of Mr. R. Morrison. This gentleman was attached to Lord Elgin’s embassy in China, and under circumstances of great difficulty—such as deteriorated chemicals, intense heat—the thermometer marking, in the coolest place that could be found, 96 degrees—he had obtained a number of interesting photographic negatives. Among these were included a general view of Tien-tsin, taken from the upper story of a temple; views of the river and the entrance to the grand canal; of the Joss-House, which was the residence of the English and French embassies; as well as of the building in which the treaties were signed, called “The Temple of the Winds.” It will be seen that all these are subjects of great interest to the public, and it is with regret, therefore, that we announce that all these negatives, together with many others, were destroyed by an accident that befell a part of the ambassadorial baggage.
It is possible that by a little manœuvring pictures may still be obtained from some of these negatives; and, indeed, we have seen one, “The imperial commissioners, Kweiliang and Hwashana,” which, though it shows signs of having been “touched,” which are visible enough to the eye of a photographer, is a photograph of great merit, the faces being alive with expression, and possessing an individuality which at once stamps them as portraits.
There was one peculiar difficulty which Mr. Morrison had to encounter beyond those we have mentioned, and which was not incident on the deterioration of the chemicals, and this arose from the variableness in the quality of the light; the actinic rays, which were strong enough to give a good picture in a given time under certain circumstances, being so much strengthened or weakened in the short time necessary for preparing another plate, that he frequently found that the second picture was under or over exposed, and this notwithstanding that all the other conditions were precisely the same.
1859: P News, Jan. 14, vol. I, #19, p. 226:
Nottingham Photographic Society.
Dear Sir,-- Perhaps your readers would be interested by a short description of the first Annual Meeting and Exhibition of the Nottingham Photographic Society, which was held in the exchange hall, a fine spacious place, 40 feet wide and 85 feet long; and in two adjoining rooms of about 40 feet square, which were devoted mostly to cameras of various makers. Those attracting the most attention were, a lens of short focus, nine inches in diameter (which, I believe, was made in France), also a solar camera, for life-size portraits, which I think is a slight improvement on the original American patented instrument.
The exhibition of apparatus was not large.
The collection of landscapes, architecture, and statuary was very large, including stereoscopic slides (there were more than 2,000 in number, collected from the best photographers and amateurs, in this as well as nearly every quarter of the globe). There were about 30 views sent in for competition, of which three took the prizes offered by the Society. The first prize was awarded to the Rev. J. J. Dredge, for a 10 x 12 inch view of an archway (Southwell Cathedral), taken, in 1856, by calotype process. The second prize was awarded, for a landscape—an old castle, water, and bridge to Mr. Hurley —which was by far the best of its class. The stereoscopic subjects were unusually good, and possess merits of a very high order. The one that took the prize was a landscape, consisting of a labourer’s cottage, at Wilford, with thatched roof, having a whitewashed gable as the prominent feature, by Mr. Woodward, chemist, of Nottingham. H. Walter, Esq., Papplewick-hall, and C. Paget, Esq., M.P., were amongst the largest contributors, and deserve much praise for their well-chosen and valuable collection. Amongst other contributions were some fine specimens by Mr. S. Bourne; E. Stegeman, Government Department of Art and Science; Mr. Booker, Derby; Joseph Sidebotham, Manchester, who presented some good specimens to the Society; S. Redgate, oil-colour positives; also a large collection in possession of the Nottingham Photographic Society. I must not forget to notice the few permanent views and copies, printed in carbon, by Mr. Shepperley, druggist, Nottingham, which deserve much praise. Mr. Thompson, optician, exhibited a small and valuable assortment of goods belonging to his profession. The attendance was about 500, of the first families in the town and country, who all appeared highly gratified with the good taste in the arrangement of the various classes and styles of the photographs.
A few short speeches would have been very appropriate; but, as there were none, I can only add that the tea and coffee were ready at nine, and the assembly gradually disappeared about ten o’clock. The rooms remained open until the 15th, at 6d. admission, for the public. Believe me, yours truly, A. G. Grant, Linby-hall, Jan. 6, 1859
1859: P News, Jan. 21, vol. I, #20, p. 232-233:
Photography in Algeria. No. IV. [cont. from 1858]
My Dear Sir,--I suppose you have almost forgotten my existence, it is so long since I wrote to you; but the fact is that, unless I were to go into general subjects, which would be out of place in the columns of the “Photographic News,” I have very little to write to you about.
Before leaving Algiers I made a purchase of the wagon I had borrowed on an occasion which I have already described, thinking it would be useful to me for a similar purpose, as well as to convey my baggage and apparatus to Hamed’s douar. I was delighted when the morning came for us to start. Ever since I read, when a boy, the delightful journeyings of Mrs. Jarley, in “Humphrey’s Clock,” I have had a longing for vagabondising in a similar manner, and hence I was delighted when the opportunity came of gratifying that desire; besides, it really is a capital mode of locomotion for a photographer in a country where roads are scarce, and railways have no present existence: moreover, it is almost indispensable in a country where one might travel forty-eight hours without meeting with an opportunity of renewing the supply of water—a matter of some importance to a photographer who likes no process so well as the wet collodion. I do not mean to say that good results may not be obtained by the dry collodion process, for I have been trying both Norris’ process and Fothergill’s. Of these two, I rather prefer the latter, but both have given me some annoyance at different times; so that, as long as I can make it possible to employ wet collodion, I shall do so. Before starting, therefore, it was essential I should have with me the means of carrying good supply of water in case of necessity, and, at the same time, I had not space for any bulky vessels. The means I adopted were as follows:--I got several yards of canvas, which I stretched by fastening a rope to each corner and passing them through staples in the wall in a corner of the courtyard of the hotel. I then boiled some linseed oil, into which I had put a certain quantity of resin, and afterwards laid a coating of it on the canvas with a brush, which I then left to dry in the sun. I repeated this process three times, after which it was completely waterproof, as I ascertained by loosening the ropes at one end and letting the canvas hang down, so as to hold seven or eight gallons of water, which I poured on it. The next thing was to convert this canvas into bags, in such a manner as to make them suitable for my purpose. First of all it was advisable, though not absolutely essential, that I should be able to regulate the flow of water from the bag; and it occurred to me that this would be best accomplished by inserting a rough tap, made of wood, in its mouth. After inquiring at a good many shops, I found something of the kind I wanted, and which I think is called in England “a spigot and faucet.” I next cut the largest circle possible out of the canvas, gathered the edges up round the tap, and tied it round very firmly with waxed string, and the bag was complete; I could pour the water into the bag through the tap. In this way I made four of these bags, all of which, by a simple arrangement of pieces of rope in the way in which country people are in the habit of supplying the loss of a handle to their pitchers, could be slung from different parts of the wagon, and thus occupied no space in the interior; they had, too, the additional advantage of being available for slinging over a horse’s back when occasion required. I have dwelt at some length on this subject, because I think a contrivance of this kind might be useful to a good many of your readers who may practice out-door photography.
Our party consisted of myself, Hamed, an Arab driver, and two others, with a couple of saddle-horses. My wagon was well filled, considering that I intended to use it as a dark room when opportunity offered—for Hamed had bought a quantity of rice, besides a lot of other things, for his domestic consumption. The first day we made a good distance, and at night halted at the house of a friend of Hamed’s, who received us hospitably enough; but I should have made but a very poor meal if I had not taken the precaution to put a few loaves I had bought at a French baker’s, before leaving Algiers, into the wagon, together with some tea and coffee. It was not that there was deficiency in the quantity of food, but it was the manner in which it was devoured that disgusted me. Just fancy some fifteen or sixteen of us seated in a circle on the ground; in the midst of us there is an enormous tub of rice, which I believe to have been boiled with the sheep whose carcase is in the midst of it, and the whole then turned out of the cauldron together. Out of compliment, I suppose, to my character of guest and foreigner, I had been furnished with a wooden spoon, but none of the others present possessed such a superfluous implement, nor did they appear to desire anything of the kind, but got along wonderfully by plunging each his hand into the tub and withdrawing it filled with rice, varying the operation at intervals by tearing off a piece of meat. I am not over nice in such matters, usually contenting myself with “doing at Bolong as Bolong does,” but I certainly did feel rather sick at the thought of going into the tub myself. My host saw that I did not seem sufficiently sharp in securing my portion; so he took my spoon, and, stirring up a portion of the rice with a due proportion of the liquid, precisely in the manner in which I have seen little boys manufacture dirt pies at home, he ladled it into a wooden bowl, and handed it to me, with a piece of meat which he had torn off with his fingers. I looked at the mess, and didn’t at all like the idea of eating it; but the reflection that he would be offended if I did not eat it, gave me courage to attempt it—and then I was so very hungry—that I made a determined effort, and succeeded in swallowing what he had given me, but he could not prevail upon me to take nay more. It was not bad, this Kouskousoo; and now that I have got a little used to it, I like it very much—though the difficulty of making oneself like it is not overcome after the first step, as it was in the case of St. Denis, who walked a league with his head under his arm.
After every man had satisfied himself, the remains were carried into the women’s apartments. I hope there were not many of them, for if there were, they must have made a very scanty meal; and as for the dogs—of which there were about a dozen apparently half-starved savage animals—they must have come badly off. All the time we were eating, they had been yelling. Barking, and fighting, as they prowled with hungry looks round the circle; and more than once an Arab had been ordered by his master to quiet them; but the method he employed to accomplish this only made them howl the louder, for he struck them savagely with a piece of wood, which it would be using too mild a term to call a bludgeon.
As soon as the remains of the dinner had been cleared away—and this business was very soon performed—I made an excuse to go and look after the wagon, which had been drawn up near the door, and finished my supper on one of the loaves, very much in the manner of the celebrated Mr. Jack Horner. When I had had enough of this, I took a paper of coffee from my store, and begged that it might be made into a liquid for the benefit of the company, and at the same time I handed my tobacco-pouch to a few of the guests who appeared of more importance than the rest, and serious smoking was at once commenced. I am not going to sing the praises of tobacco, which would perhaps be a little out of place in a photographic publication, inasmuch as it is not used in any photographic manipulations with which I am acquainted (though it may be said to possess, to a certain extent, photographic qualities; for instance, it is powerfully acted upon by the solar rays when they are concentrated with a lens, and under their influence changes its colour and condition); yet, I am sure, that the most rabid opponent to the use of the noxious weed—even the distinguished author, of the “Counterblast” himself—would take to smoking if he lived among the Arabs. The night was so warm and pleasant, that we seated ourselves on the ground out of doors; and, except when I exchanged a few words with Hamed from time to time, the most profound silence reigned for nearly two hours. I began to think of retiring to my wagon for the night, when suddenly, without any warning, an old Arab began a narrative about a young woman who was very beautiful, and very proud of her beauty. One day she went into the wood near her father’s hut to pick up sticks, and was about to return home with a bundle when she saw a lion, who was regarding her very attentively. Women are women all the world over, and her first act therefore was to scream. The noble animal seemed grieved by the want of confidence in the purity of his intentions with this act indicated. He looked at her appealingly; and there was such an expression of admiration in his leonine face, that she could not help seeing it in spite of her fears. She took up her sticks (a more vulgar historian would perhaps have said that she “cut her stick”) and walked, though with a good deal of fear and trembling, to her father’s hut, the lion accompanying her all the way, and behaving like a gentleman. Some days elapsed before she had the courage to go again; when she did, she found her new friend had not forgotten her: but this time she was not much frightened; she saw that he was in love with her, and, with the natural instinct of a woman in such a case, she sought to convert him into an ass. It would be too tedious to follow the Arab in all the circumlocutions of his tale, showing how she accomplished this praiseworthy object, but I shall go at once to the dénouement. One day, with a vain desire to test the strength of his affection, she pretended to take offence, and chopped his head open with a hatchet. The poor beat bore this suffering and indignity with the meekness which characterises lovers of the “Moddle” (sic) kind, and staggered away with a resignation which would have melted any heart but that of a woman too vain to think of anything except her beauty. She had not seen the lion for some days, and began to think that the chop had been too much for him to digest, when, as she was walking thoughtfully along, she saw him approaching. This time his countenance was changed; and, instead of the mute lover, it was the angry avenger who thus addressed her:--“Aysehu, I have loved you long. I have borne with patience the contumely you have heaped upon me. When you struck me, I did not resent it—and why was this? Because I loved you, Ayeshu. But what was that which I heard you say this morning in your father’s hut? That I was an ugly brute, an unclean feeder, dirty….. I forgave the pain you inflicted on my body, but I cannot forgive the pain you have inflicted on my pride.” So saying, he took her in his mouth, and disappeared with her in the wood, and she was never more seen of mortal man.
Moral.--It is easier to pardon personal injuries of any description than to forgive an offence against our self-love. C.A.
1859: P News, Jan. 28, vol. I, #21, p. 250-251:
Miscellaneous:
A Mr. Henry Coxwell, writing to a daily paper on the subject of exploring the interior of Australia by means of balloons, says:--“The expedition will be provided with a photographic apparatus to stamp with truthful and indelible outline a series of bird’s-eye views, the indisputable correctness of which will be invaluable, with written records of passing scenes. Viewing calmly the danger likely to accompany such an attempt, I do not think it can fairly be pronounced greater than that which attends an arctic voyage, or any other which originates from a desire to attain useful knowledge by intrepidity and personal risk.”
Photography in America.—In England we have already become accustomed to the announcement of photographic publications, there have been many valuable works published in the volume shape, and we have an Art Journal illustrated by means of photography; but as yet we have not had any application of the art in the “getting-up” of gift-books. By “getting up” we mean that Christmas style of book, which is so well known for its beautiful binding, and engraved illustrations by book illustrators. As yet, English publishers have not attempted the illustration of books of this class by means of photography,--at least, to any great extent. Our transatlantic friends are to be first in the field, and, according to the New York special correspondent of an able contemporary, we are informed that a publishing house in that city is about to bring forward a volume which will, in the cant phrase of the day, inaugurate a new era for illustrated publications. The work which it is proposed to place before the public, is a collection of photographic illustrations to Longfellow’s latest poem, “Miles Standish.” The photographs, eight or ten in number, are from drawings by an artist of German origin, J. W. Ehninger, by name, who superintends the photographic process, and the general arrangement of the novel work. His designs are admirably conceived, and pleasingly executed. The photograph lends, of course, that peculiar depth and richness to the picture, in which it excels the softest etching; and the artist who is to execute the copies, avows himself confident of their durability. “At least,” he says, “they will last a generation;” and in American what more can be asked? The present is a most unfavourable season for this undertaking, as only five hours, at most, are available for the photographer, and every day of rain or snow brings us to a standstill. We shall look with the interest to more extensive application of this means of illustration.
1859: P News, Jan. 28, vol. I, #21, p. 245:
Critical Notices.
Stereograms of English Scenery. By W. Woodward, Nottingham.
These stereograms illustrate some of those charming little nooks and corners of rustic scenery with which this country abounds. In his selection of sits, Mr. Woodward has been exceedingly happy; and when he has attempted to photograph historically interesting places, he has evidently been guided with great artistic taste in giving the best view that could be obtained. The process by which they are obtained is the collodio-albumen; and, judging from those before us, we doubt not but that they are among the best specimens which have yet been obtained by it. The scene in “Burghley Park, Stamford,” is a very fine picture; and the photographer has, in the most successful manner, given true effect to the water, while, at the same time, a great amount of definition has been obtained, not only in the background foliage, but also in the detail of the foreground. The most successful architectural slide is that of “Newstead Abbey.” His lane scenes are very pretty, and would, we doubt not, be of great use to an artist as studies of rustic scenery. The great feature of the series is, equality of tone, and careful manner of treatment.
1859: P News, Feb. 4, vol. I, #22, p. 256-257:
Photography in Algeria, No. IV (cont.)
I must say that the tale gave me but a very small part of the satisfaction which the natives seemed to derive from listening to it, from which I conclude that the translation was inferior to the original; in fact, I am certain that they are in the habit of seasoning their tales with a kind of salt which is not attic, and which Hamed, out of regard for what he considers my religious prejudices, invariably omits. Some desultory conversation followed, turning chiefly on successful thieving exploits, which one of them delicately termed “a pious fulfilling of the will of Allah;” indeed, stealing from the members of another tribe is regarded as a moral virtue, and a thief exults in his success in proportion of the difficulties he encounters and overcomes in the operation: in short, in such matters, they appear to think that—
“The simple rule, the good old plan,
That he should take who has the power,
And he should keep who can,”
Is the rule to guide their conduct. I do not know whether my property would have been safe from the predatory assaults of the inhabitants of the douar if I had left it unprotected, but I had no intention of running the risk; besides, it was infinitely preferable to sleep in the wagon, to shutting myself up with a family party, which included the dogs: and Hamed was of the same opinion, for he asked my permission to sleep on his property, which I was not the least unwilling to consent to. We sat chatting for some time after the others had gone to rest, and after awhile we too partly undressed ourselves, and, except the incessant barking of the dogs, the most profound silence reigned, which was suddenly broken by a shrill scream, followed by a succession of others. I was a good deal frightened (it always frightens me to hear a woman scream, and breaks my heart to see her cry), and I gave Hamed a shake, and then ran in to see the cause. I found that the screaming proceeded from the women’s apartment, but I knew better than to enter there, and was, therefore, obliged to remain in suspense until Hamed came, for the men, who were lying about in the outer department, went on with their sleeping as if they were angels’ whispers which came so shrilly through the canvas partition. In a minute or two Hamed walked in, and, after listening a little, said, it was only------ (sic) administering a “petite correction” to one of his wives. I thought the word “petite” scarcely indicated the amount of correction, for, judging by the sound, the fellow was “laying on” like a scare of Macduffs, and with a disregard of public opinion which was in striking contrast to the delicate susceptibility of the Greek at Constantinople on that point, who, as I read in the Akbar the other day, whenever he had occasion to beat his wife, which was rather frequently, used to fetch an organ-grinder from the street into his room, in order that his neighbours might not have their feelings hurt by hearing her cries. Finding that it really was only the man beating his wife, I did not remain to hear the conclusion.
This method of keeping women in order does not appear to be unusual here; in fact, the Arabs are, in a good many respects, a primitive kind of people, and resort to first principles in this, as well as in many other things.
Our entertainer was extremely anxious that we should remain with him some days; but, as there was nothing in the neighbourhood of sufficient interest to yield me pictures, I refused. I took a portrait of him, and you will be surprised to see how grave and patriarchal a man may look in spite of his indulgence in the amiable weakness referred to above. I had a good deal of difficulty in inducing him to sit, and I am sorry to find that this reluctance is common among the natives now that I have left Algeria [Algiers], and I am afraid that I shall be unable to get photographs of women anywhere except in garrison towns. Hitherto, Hamed has alleged that his women will not consent to sit, but I have hopes in that quarter still.
I expect to be more successful, in bringing home a larger number of good negatives than any photographer who has yet visited Algeria, inasmuch as I am able to employ the wet collodion process almost invariably. I have made my vehicle perfectly dark, and though it was not the convenience of being lighted by means of yellow glass windows, I get along very well with the light of a lamp. The extreme rapidity of the process is a special advantage where it is interesting to get a group of half savage natives, who would either refuse to sit if they were asked, or, if they did, would want to be paid for it; whereas now, if I see a group round a well—and where there is a well there is almost a certainty of there being a lot of natives about it—the driver stops in the position he is directed, and goes off to get some water for the cattle. In this way I have already taken several pictures, without the natives being in the least conscious of it, and you will see that this in itself is no slight advantage to the appearance of the picture. The exposure requisite is very short; the clearness and brilliancy of the atmosphere being so superior to what you enjoy in England, and the power of the actinic rays being proportionately greater.
There is one thing which I would strongly advise any of your readers who may come out here not to neglect, and that is, a box for carrying the plates which shall secure them from every possible injury. I cannot conceive that there would be any difficulty in constructing such a box; at all events, I should think the gentleman who has given you the advantages of his experience as a travelling photographer, might design one which would answer the purpose. I have already met with one or two unpleasant accidents in consequence of the boxes containing my plates having been knocked about rather violently, and I am afraid that when I make excursions among the mountains I may suffer still more severely; and only imagine the annoyance, after working for days under such privations in regard to food as nothing but a sincere love of the art could induce one to submit to, of having the result of one’s labour destroyed in an instant by the animal carrying them making a false step. I have tried the only means in my power of guarding against this, by making a couple of wooden boxes, with partitions just sufficiently wide apart to allow of the plate sliding down, the back of it being held in close contact with the wood; but I fear that in the event of a tumble this would not prevent some of them from being fractured by the concussion.
I have got one negative which I guard with special care, for on it hangs a tale. I was going to say, it is almost too good to be true, but perhaps that would sound unfeeling; what I mean is, that it seems too singular. The picture is that of a dilapidated-looking building, of rather a large size for this country, standing beside a road; the wood comes down almost close to it, and between it and the building there is a well. The appearance of this building induced me to ask Hamed what it was used for, when he told me that it had formerly been inhabited by a religious body of Mahomedans, to the number of fifty. These devotees, if I may so term them, had the cub of a lion given to them, which they brought up as if it were a dog, and which, though perfectly tame, they kept fastened up by a chain in the courtyard. One day the spirit of his race awoke in him, and he burst his chains and disappeared. They would not have cared much for this if his disappearance had not been followed by the disappearance of sundry members of the flocks and herds of the surrounding douars, and even this they might have resigned themselves to in time, if time had been given them. One evening the chief of the monastery went out to the well to perform his ablutions, it being the custom for him to perform his ablutions alone; but when a more than reasonable time had elapsed for the purpose, and he did not return, he was sought for, but like the young woman whose lamentable fate is recorded in “The Mistletoe Bough,” he was not to be found. They resigned themselves to the loss, and another succeeded to his functions, and, sad to relate, the next evening he, too, disappeared under similarly mysterious circumstances; not a trace of him could be discovered: and, to cut a long story short, Hamed said this continued until there were only eleven left, and they, notwithstanding their convictions as to the impossibility of avoiding the decrees of destiny, and the sinfulness of attempting to do so, emingrated in a body to a distant institution, and thus escaped the fate of their brethren, whose disappearance was accounted for in this wise:--The lion had eaten them all; each evening he had seized the first who came out, and carried him off into the wood, probably he knocked him down in the first instance and stunned him, and then took him off to devour at his leisure. Whether this tale is altogether true, is more than I will venture to say, notwithstanding all Hamed’s assurances that it is; but I have no doubt there is some foundation for it.
I hope to be able to send you some pictures shortly, for in order to obviate in part the risk of accidents, I have been printing some copies from each of my negatives since I have been here. C.A.
1859: P News, Feb. 11, vol. I, #23, p. 268-269:
Critical Notices. Stereograms of English Scenery and Interiors. By W. H. Warner, London, Ordish.
These views are chiefly of interior architectural subjects,--a department of photography which, we need hardly inform our readers, is one of the most difficult to obtain any great amount of success in. In Mr. Warner’s series there is great inequality; sometimes he obtains results which would please the most fastidious, while at other times the pictures are by no means as satisfactory as we should desire: this, we apprehend, is not so much from any fault of manipulation, as from the photographer attempting a subject which would be almost certain to meet with failure. However, in some instances where he has tried his skill upon subjects that others have failed in, his pictures are, considering the difficulties he has had to surmount, decided successes. We think it right to make these remarks because the general public buy pictures, not so much for the photographic difficulties that have been overcome, but because they are pleasing and interesting. In many instances those before us are printed too dark, otherwise they would be entitled to rank as first-rate slides.
”Bishop Grandison’s Shrine,” and the “Altar Piece, St. Saviour’s Chapel, Exeter,” are two of the least successful, owing to the want of half-tone, and the great intensity of black and white. In those views of portions of Exeter Cathedral, where there are large windows at the end of the picture, the strong glaring light has spoiled the whole effect. These faults, however, are by no means prevalent in the series, we only notice them here and there. Some views, such as the “Nave, Exeter Cathedral,” “The North Aisle,” “The nave and Choir from the West Door,” and many others, might be named as among the best and most successful interior stereograms we have ever seen. His sea-side studies are very interesting, and give the spectator a good idea of sea-side life. “Lobster Pots,” “Ladram Bay, Devon,” “The pier, Torquay,” asre all interesting pictures and good photographs. The slide called “Smugglers on the Look-Out,” is a very clever view of just such a spot as one might imagine would be a smugglers’ haunt. The panoramic view of “Torquay from the Waldon Hill,” is well calculated to give an impression as to what sort of a town Torquay is.
We are very much pleased with the information which Mr. Warner has given on the back of each slide, recording the time of exposure, the season, hour of day, and the description of lens. This is a class of information that would be of great use if it were more generally adopted by photographers.
1859: P News, Feb. 18, vol. I, #24, p. 280:
Critical Notices. The Panorama of Lucknow in the Photographic Exhibition.
Since we wrote our notice of the Photographic Society’s Exhibition, there has been added to it a most interesting and clever Photographic Panorama of Lucknow, together with some other photographic landscapes and portraits.
Of all the panoramas we have seen, taken by means of photography, we have no hesitation in stating that this is one of the most perfect. The copies exhibited at the Exhibition, we may state, however, are by no means such clear impressions as we have seen from the same set of negatives. One thing which must strike every one who looks at these photographs is, the great uniformity of tone, which is so perceptible throughout the pictures. Not only is there great effect produced in looking at these pictures as a whole, but closer inspection only reveals new beauties. In many parts of this photograph, one is almost led to think that it is a copy of a panoramic picture, as there are such pretty little patches of trees and shrubs clustering here and there. As an architectural photograph, the panoramic view of the view of the Kaiser Bagh is most interesting: we are informed that this large photograph, though representing an immense area, is only of a portion of the building which constitutes one palace. If this is a portion, what must be the whole?
To get an idea of the extent and splendour of Eastern palaces, of which we have read so much—not only in fairy tales, but in the more interesting contributions of “our own special Correspondent,” we would advise anybody to go and see this photograph; it strangely contrasts with the blotched and blurred copy which Mr. Frith exhibited of Cairo. The other Indian views are of a highly jaundiced tone; this, perhaps, is owing to the great amount of varnish on them. Of the portraits—we cannot say much, they strike us as being very much like the well-known series of Crimean photographs by Fenton. The landscapes are very cleverly executed; and the sites are most artistically selected. “The great Emambara of Ashnifoodowlah,” is a very beautiful photograph; and has many points about it of photographic as well as historic interest. Many of these views, we understand, are by Robertson; who is at present engaged in taking photographic pictures of the most interesting scenes and places connected with the war in India.
1859: P News, Feb. 18, vol. I, #24, p. 280:
Critical Notices. Stereoscopic Views in the North of England, and in Wales.—By Messrs. Ogle and Edge, Preston.
These gentlemen deserve the thanks of the artistic, for the very excellent series of views they have published. They consist of English lake scenery, Welch landscapes, and English ruins. Of the quality of these slides there cannot be two opinions; they are clear, well defined, and, in many cases, very brilliant. Perhaps the only fault that can be urged against them is, a slight reddishness of tone. In some instances this is more agreeable than otherwise; but, generally speaking, we should prefer the red a little more subdued. “the Dungeon Ghyll, Langdale Pikes, Westmoreland,” is a most vivid and beautiful picture. “Near Stock, Ghyll Force, Ambleside,” is a wonderful specimen of clear printing; and, at the same time, it exhibits a great amount of detail in the foliage, while the water, as it rolls over the rocky bed of the river, is caught with great and striking force. But of the lake scenes, the best is “Rydal Water, with Hartley Coleridge’s Home and Nab Scar in the background.” The rendering of the water in the picture is really beautiful, while the background is clear and distinct; the whole picture seems, as it were, the very embodiment of tranquillity. (sic) In giving a happy illustration of “The brook that brawls along the wood,” Messrs. Ogle and Edge have been eminently successful in the selection of a spot that exactly represents the idea. It is a charming little picture. We will not go into particulars with regard to the other slides before us; suffice it to say, that the views of Tintern, Rievaulx, and Fountains Abbey, are done in a manner that would bear comparison with Bedford’s best and happiest views. Of all the views we have ever seen of “Tintern Abbey,” we have no hesitation in saying that the view from “The North Aisle, looking West” (No. 4), is one of the best. It gives the spectator such an idea of distance, and impresses him with the grandeur of the building in a manner that cannot easily be forgotten. This series contains the most choice and beautiful views that we have seen. They are very artistic; and the selection of sites has been most careful and judicious.
1859: P News, Feb. 25, vol. I, #25, p. 292:
Critical Notices.
Stereographic Views of Chatsworth. By Mr. Poulton
The idea of putting Chatsworth into the stereoscope is an exceedingly happy one,
and considering the gorgeous magnificence of the grounds and the beauties of
this “Palace of the Peak,” we think it ought to be done in the best manner. We
happen to know that in the summer of 1857 the duke contemplated thus
illustrating his palace for the purpose of private distribution, and had he
lived no doubt he would have carried out his idea, but death removed him ere he
could accomplish the task of placing in the most unique of all modern
instruments that most princely of all mansions, the Palace of the Peak, to which
his own good taste and kingly magnificence contributed so much in making it what
it is. Chatsworth may be considered as the finest of all the seats of the
English nobility, and in looking at the views which Mr. Pulton (sic) has
executed, we can form a pretty good idea of the extent and beauty of this
place. As we look at slide after slide we are forcibly struck with the
similarity which exists between many of the views and the Fairy garden and
Palace at Sydenham. In both we see the traces of the master hand who designed
them. The view of the “Portland Walk” in the Ornamental Gardens could easily be
passed off as the entrance to the Crystal Palace. As to the generality of these
slides, we are sorry we cannot indorse the opinion expressed by the publisher
that, “all who have seen these slides (which delineate scenes in this most
beautiful of England’s seats) have pronounced them to be of a very high order.”
We heartily concur in our approval of the expression that Chatsworth “is the
most beautiful of England’s seats;” but that the slides are of a high order we
cannot allow. In the selection before us there are few “scenes;” they mostly
comprise floral and botanic studies, without the necessary accompaniment of
colour; and any one who would purchase this series in the hope of securing happy
recollections of pleasant scenes would be sadly disappointed, because they
chiefly consist of views of the most uninteresting kind. They are bad as
photographs, and as artistic selections much worse.
1859: P News, March 11, vol. II, #27, p. 10:
Miscellaneous: [selection]
THE GLASGOW PHOTOGRAPHIC SOCIETY.—The above society contemplate holding an exhibition during the course of the next month. In the prospectus issued by the joint secretaries, we are informed that not more than twenty specimens will be accepted from one single exhibitor; and those who contemplate contributing, are ordered to send their contributions before the twentieth of this month. The other regulations may be found in our advertising columns, and are similar in character to those at other exhibitions. We recommend this to the notice of photographers.
HOW TO OBTAIN PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE MOON AND THE INHABBITANTS THEREOF.—We were not a little amused by an announcement which appeared in a very serious foreign contemporary to the following effect:-- “Suppose that a successful attempt were made to obtain a surface for the photographic picture perfectly free from irregularities capable of distorting the most imperceptible lines of a photograph. Suppose also that on this surface a photograph of the moon were taken with every precaution; if this picture were examined under a very powerful microscope the most minute details would become visible, and if the instrument possessed sufficiently high magnifying power you would be able to see living beings, if there are any residing in that luminary. This is one of the applications of photography to astronomy; and it has been said that an Italian savant, after trying for sic years to obtain this result, has succeeded, and has recently been able to obtain pictures of the moon on which figures of naked animals are depicted, one species of which bore a great resemblance to human beings…It is certain that important discoveries may be arrived at by this means; the great difficulty being to find a substance on which to take the picture, the surface of which shall be so perfectly even as to receive the luminous image without in the slightest degree distorting its most minute details.”
1859: P News, March 18, vol. II, #28, p. 17:
Critical Notices. Stereograms. By E. S. Norcombe
These ruins are produced by a dry process described in p. 130, vol. i [sic, I] It is a process respecting which we have lately had several questions asked, and, from an examination of these pictures, we have no hesitation in recommending it to the use of our readers. One of our contemporaries has advertised the process as being a new American one, but our correspondent has used it for several years. The stereograms possess all the requisites of good photographs by clearness, definiteness, and minuteness of detail. The picture of “Bishop Stafford’s Monument,” Exeter Cathedral, is a very fine specimen of interior photography.
1859: P News, March 18, vol. II, #28, p. 22:
Miscellaneous:
Photography as an Advertising Medium.-- It is not an un usual thing to meet, in the course of one’s perambulations, with photography as an advertising medium. It seems to be an especial resort now of showmen and theatrical characters. The great authority on the subject of advertising—Mr. Phineas T. Barnum, with his usual astuteness, has called it into requisition as a means of attracting public attention to his exhibitions. For instance, he is at present exhibiting the renowned Tom Thumb, who created such a furor some years ago. When this diminutive specimen of humanity was first exhibited he had to be content with lithographic and wood-engraved portraits, showing how little he was when compared to a life-guardsman. But, now that he has again appeared on the public stage, he has his portrait taken from life, alongside of a real life-guardsman. We have made inquiries as to the result of these photographic advertisements, and we are informed that they much surpass the old method of advertising by lithographs, which, however well executed, left only the impression on the public mind of an ideal; whereas, by having photographs taken, they see the real, knowing full well that in a photograph there is no room for any of those little tricks which the lithographer can so easily put into a lithograph. Mr. Barnum, however, is not the only showman who avails himself of the resources of photography. As we passed St. Martin’s Hall, in Long Acre, the other day, our attention was attracted by another photographic advertisement, that of an actor who has some distant resemblance to portraits of Shakespeare, and who, therefore, has taken to the peculiar dress in which Shakespeare was supposed to attire himself, that is, if sculptors render the clothing of the bard correctly when they chisel out a statue. We could not help laughing at the idea, as we inspected the precious picture of a man with a faint resemblance to, and trying very hard to look like, Shakespeare. The model which he evidently had been studying, was one of those extremely cheap plaster casts, painted black, and slightly bronzed. The picture altogether was what may be termed richly ludicrous. The advantage which we saw in this photographic advertisement was, that it dispelled all those poetic and sentimental ideas which a lithographer would have been certain to have introduced. Mr. and Mrs. Howard Paul, in their entertainment entitled “Patch Work,” have also several photographic advertisements, which generally seem to attract attention; while Mr. W. S. Woodin has had his entertainment put into the stereoscope. Lastly, though not least, we see that Mr. Spurgeon allows himself and his lady to be exhibited in the stereoscope; but whether it is with as similar object to those above alluded to, we are not in a position to say.
1859: PNews, April 1, vol. II, #30, p. 41:
Stereograms from Flat Surfaces.
In the latter part of last year, an ingenious device for the purpose of obtaining pictures from flat surfaces, suited for stereoscopic purposes, was made known to the world by Mr. Sang. At the first appearance of the thing some of our contemporaries were very much carried away with the idea, and committed gross blunders in the appreciation and estimation of the discovery; while others, who had hit upon the method of producing these results, were unusually severe in their exposure, we might almost say condemnation, of it. That the invention is clever, there can be no denying; and when we first noticed it we remarked that—‘we must give Mr. Sang full credit for the great ingenuity he has shown in thus bringing (however imperfectly) the world of the painter and engraver into the domain of the stereoscope.’ Since the announcement of Mr. Sang’s device, we were not aware that any one has attempted to produce stereograms from flat surfaces. We have, however, lately been favoured with a specimen by Mr. George A Dean, of Douglas, Isle of Man. The subject which he has chosen for illustration is a most difficult one, and he certainly has succeeded in giving the stereoscopic effect very well. It is one of the cartoons from our facetious contemporary Punch, entitled, ‘The French Porcupine,’ wherein is represented his imperial majesty the Emperor of the French as a porcupine, his bristles consisting of bayonets—the motto under which is—‘He may be an inoffensive animal, but he don’t look like it.’ Now our readers will be enabled to form some idea of the difficulties with which Mr. Dean has had to contend, in retaining the sharpness of the bristles—or bayonets. The specimen is very good, although not quite so successful as those which Mr. Sang has produced.
1859: P News, April 8, vol. II, #31, p. 54-56:
Photography in Algeria.
To the Editor of the ‘Photographic News”
My Dear Sir,--I hope all my letters reach you eventually. I don’t expect them to reach you in very regular succession, and no doubt you sometimes get two or three at one time; but still I think the post-office at Algiers is very well managed, and when my letters once reach there, I have no fear of their reaching you—the great difficulty is to ensure their reaching that place. I am obliged to trust them to an Arab who is going either to that place or Bone, and, as I am obliged to pay him beforehand, I feel sure that if he had a motive for stopping fifty miles this side of either of those places, he would use my letters to light his pipe without the smallest hesitation, and tell me when he comes back that he had posted them, and back up his statement by as many circumstances as a witness at the Old Bailey in proving an alibi. As to getting any letters that may be lying for me at the post-office at the former place, that seems out of the question. One man tells me that the officials refuse to give them up unless I apply for them in person; and a second, who has just now returned thence, says there are none, which is just what he would say if he had got them and lost them. Photographers, who confine their operations to that which is, all things considered, the prettiest and most interesting country in the world, can hardly imagine the anxiety with which one looks forward for letters when one is far away from home and friends—living among a race of people with whom it is difficult to converse, and who are incapable of reasoning on any subject which does not fall within the experience of their everyday life, and these subjects are very limited in number. The Arabs, among whom I am now living, are grossly ignorant, and yet I firmly believe that they entertain the idea that what I know is as nothing compared to the profundity of their wisdom. Their conceit is quite ludicrous, and arises from their fanatical belief that the man who is not a Mahommedan must be little better than a Jew, whom they consider to be little above the level of their dogs in point of intellect, and infinitely below them as regards usefulness. The horror which the House of Peers would feel at finding a Jew sitting among them in a legislative capacity, would be as nothing compared to what these people would feel if a member of the tribe of Israel were to take his seat among them in private life. Even Hamed, who is my inseparable companion, and a man of inquiring mind, retains many of the prejudices of his countrymen, notwithstanding that I have laboured to show him that there are many things true which were never dreamt of in his philosophy. Any of your readers who may come out here would do well to remember what I have said of the Arab character, or else they may be annoyed by the assumption of superiority which the Arabs affect over white men who are such fools as not to believe in Mahomet. I would advise no photographer to come here alone, if he can help it, but to have a friend with him to assist him in passing away the time. I have been extremely fortunate in meeting with Hamed, who happens to be an agreeable companion, as well as a good man to have for a friend, on account of his influential position among people who would not have minded cutting my throat, when I first came among them, for the sake of my property. My position is altered now; I have joined them in excursions among the mountains against lions and tiger-cats—which latter, by the way, they seem to regard with much greater fear than the lion; probably on account of their being more frequently met with during the day, when, as a rule, the lion is crouching in his lair. I have just returned form an excursion among the mountains, which lasted five days. Our party was a strong one; beside myself and Hamed, there were twelve or thirteen Arabs, four or five of whom were mounted, the rest running along on foot, and keeping up with us without any difficulty. One of them led a horse loaded with my tent and camera, and a couple of my canvas water bottles, and a very queer object he looked—so much so, that the sheikh suggested that we should place him in the vanguard, as he was certain that, in the event of our meeting a lion, he was sure that he would run away from such a strange-looking animal; but I did not listen to the suggestion. I need scarcely say that we were all armed, though some of us carried guns which looked to me as if they would be far more dangerous to those who fired them than to the object fired at. We started at daybreak one morning, and reached the range of mountains we proposed to visit about five hours afterwards, when we halted to get something to eat. Our larder was not very plentifully supplied, nor with any great luxuries; but any photographers who may have injured their digestions by frequent dining with the Lord Mayor, will be certain to have them set right if they come out here and take up a residence with an Arab. Rice, mutton, and dates is the staple of their consumption, with unleavened bread and butter, and in our case with the addition of tea and coffee; but abundance of exercise, and the pure, clear atmosphere of the mountains, give one an appetite for anything; and while on this excursion I dined one day off lion, and with immense relish too, though the flavour is not precisely the same as that of “the roast beef of Old England.”
I hope your readers are not tired of lion stories, for the fact is, that there is little else to write about from here. It forms the staple of the tales told by the Arabs around the evening fire; and if I were to believe all I hear on this subject, I should pronounce the lion to be the most ferocious, cunning, and blood-thirsty animal in existence. Not only do they say that the lion can fascinate, or, as I suppose electro-biologists would say, mesmerize, unlucky individuals who may come in his way, but he can do something far more wonderful: he can distinguish between a thief and an honest man; or perhaps, where all are thieves, it would be more correct to say, he makes a distinction between a greater or lesser thief. They tell me that the lion never attacks a man who is naked, and that, for that reasons, those who are on a thievish excursion always divest themselves of their clothing. He respects their persons because they are engaged in an occupation similar to his own; but if a man retains as much of his clothing as is worn by a coolie in India, the lion looks upon him as one who is not heart and soul in his business—with much the same sort of feeling, in fact, as we at home regard a man who rows in gloves. He walks round and round him, playfully whisking his tale in his face, varying his amusement by occasionally stopping in front of him, drawing back his lips so as to show his enormous teeth, and uttering the most terrific roars. Farther on he will, perhaps, leave him and strike off into the wood; his wretched victim hurries along thinking that his tormentor has left him altogether—but all of a sudden the lion will spring from behind a rock, or an angle in the road, and with a stroke of his paw send him reeling backwards, precisely as we have seen a cat play with a mouse. When he is tired of his amusement he ends the dreadful anxiety of his victim by killing him outright. The man who is dressed in the ordinary way does not obtain even this horrible reprieve, for the lion lays hold of him and destroys him at once. If a party of naked Arabs are returning with their plunder and they meet with a lion, they wait respectfully until the animal has seized the beast to which he may take a fancy, and then continue their journey homewards, waiting until they think they are beyond his hearing before they venture to call him the most opprobrious names, for they entertain an opinion that the lion understands what is said to him.
We were rather fortunate our first day, for we shot three hares and some birds, which was a change of diet appreciated by all of us. I had no work to do, for nothing had presented itself of sufficient interest to induce me to unpack my apparatus during the day, so I had merely to assist in fixing my tent, and then we all sat down round an enormous fire, lighted as much for the purpose of keeping wild beasts off as for the sake of warmth, though it was very agreeable on the latter account, for it felt very cold to me, after I had dismounted and sat down for a little while.
Our encampment presented a very picturesque appearance. On one side of the enormous fire, that roared and sparkled in a way to frighten our horses at first, was my tent, in which myself and the sheikh were very snugly ensconced, and around which the Arabs were lying, or sitting cross-legged, furbishing their old guns, and afterwards loading them with as much care as if an attack was imminent, though our number rendered this very unlikely. The horses were brought within the circle of light, and not only fastened to pegs driven in the ground, but hob bled, so that they got very little to eat beside what they were able to get between the time of our halting and its getting dark; this was done with a view to protecting them from lions and thieves, and their safety was further cared for by the Arabs, whose duty it was to act, in turn, as sentinels during the night.
After our meal was finished, the pipes were brought out, but the natives artfully waited to see the extent to which my liberality would reach before they produced their own tobacco; and as nothing is lost by kindness, and I often require assistance, which they might refuse to render me, I find it advantageous, after Hamed and I have filled our pipes, to abandon the remainder of the packet to them to divide as they please. Apart from the pleasure one always feels in doing a kind action, this is really a very inexpensive way of securing the good offices of these half-savage Arabs, for tobacco is grown in very large quantities in this country, on account of the French Government, and may be bought at a low rate. (The remainder of our correspondent’s letter will be given in our next.)
1859: P News, April 15, vol. II, #32, p. 69-70:
Photography in Algeria.* (*Continued from vol. ii p. 56)
You photographers, “who live at home at ease,” have no notion of the sensation of comfort, of intense bien être, which one feels on finding oneself, after a day’s hard exercise in the open air, before a blazing fire, in a picturesque situation, with a cup of hot coffee at the right hand, and a pipe filled with the fragrant weed in the left. No matter what the fatigues of the day have been, they are all forgotten then, and the present seems so delightful that one forgets to think of the future. For my part, having nobody to speak to of friends at home, I don’t often suffer myself to think of them, as to do so would cause me more pain than pleasure, as I not unfrequently experience when I wake up from a dream of bright eyes and musical voices, and find myself among fellows whose voices sound more like the filing of the teeth of a big saw than anything else. At such times the feeling of nostalgia is so strong that I cannot recover myself for some time. However, I must dismiss this from my mind, and return to the subject where I started from it. After smoking had been continued for some minutes, one of the Arabs called upon the recognised story-teller of the party for a tale, and when this was finished, another succeeded it, generally a love tale, the peculiar beauties of the fair one being described in far more minute detail than is usual even in the most sentimental of English novels, or a tale of a lion, which, I must confess interests me far more than the love tales. I remember that, on this particular night, one was told of a much more horrible character than any I had heard previously; and, as Hamed assured me, was undoubtedly true in its principal facts, though possibly not in all its details. It ran very much as follows:-- [story not related in original text]
After listening to these and similar narratives, which, perhaps, interested me more than they will you, from my having heard them by the light of a blazing fire, surrounded by a belt of trees barely visible on the edge of the black darkness behind them, until I was tired, I lay down with my head and shoulders inside my tent and my feet projecting towards the fire, and was soon sound asleep. I don’t know at all how long I had been so before I was roused by something, and felt a pain in my head, and directly afterwards I received a blow on the head through the side of the tent, which made me think for a moment that I had been struck by an iron bar with claws at the end which I carried with me in my wagon; but in an instant the idea flashed across my mind that it was a lion which was sniffing at me through the back of the tent. To have called out would probably have led to his tearing down the slight barrier between us, and in that case your correspondent would, probably, by this time have been, to a certain extent, converted into a lion, and be wandering about among the mountains in search of an ox, or some little trifle of that sort, for his evening meal; and I should have been deprived of the advantage and you of the pleasure of seeing my negatives in England; fortunately, however, though a cold perspiration burst out on every part of my body, I merely withdrew my head quietly from the side of the tent, and stretched out my hand in search of Hamed, but without finding him. I hardly knew what to do. If I remained where I was without moving, there was the probability of the beast tearing up the tent and dragging me through. On the other hand, at attempt to move closer to the fire would probably be detected, and the lion has the same characteristics as the cat, and would doubtless have sprung upon me in that case, and have carried me off. While hesitating what to do, the animal, most likely from not being able any longer to feel anything through the wall of the tent, must have turned away, for after what was in fact but a few moments, but which seemed a very long time, there was a terrific shriek, followed by a low, deep growling, then a shot, and a louder growl. I felt about for my revolver, which I had placed beside my head before going to sleep, and creeping round the tent I saw the horrid beast standing perfectly still, with glaring eyes, and continuing the same low, deep growling, and holding in his mouth the body of a man, which he occasionally lowered on the ground as if with the intention of taking a firmer hold, but never entirely letting go of it. I saw by the direction of his look that he had caught sight of me, and so terrible are the associations connected with the beast in my mind that I dared not move or breathe for some seconds, when the though suddenly occurred to me that it must be the body of Hamed that he held in his mouth. M y liking for this man had become so strong that the desire to rescue or avenge him drove every feeling of fear out of my mind, and, with a steady aim, I fired at his body just behind the shoulder. Singularly enough, although I knew I had hit him, he merely gave a loud growl and remained stationary, without relaxing his hold of the Arab’s body. How long he would have remained in this state of immobility I can’t say, but I was just about to try the effect of a second shot, when a regular volley of guns was fired from out the darkness; the beast sprang forward towards me, almost at the same instant that I felt a sharp, stinking sensation in the upper part of my arm, and fell to the ground so close to me that I stepped back to avoid a blow from his paws in his death-struggles. They did not last long, and as soon as they were over I fetched a lighted brand from the fire, and first holding it to the face of the dead man to see who it was, and feeling much relieved at finding it was not Hamed, I waved it about as a signal for the others, that they might come with safety. They soon came and clustered round the body of the dead lion, some kicking it, and others spitting on and reviling it, and all of them claiming the honour of having killed him, a claim that they seemed far more interested in defending than in commiserating the fate of their dead companion. All the efforts we made to release the latter unfortunate from the jaws of the lion were unavailing without having recourse to our knives, and as there was not the least doubt of his being dead, for the teeth of the powerful brute were buried in his chest and back, we determined on leaving both bodies where they were until daylight.
The first thing I did when I awoke was to look for the bodies of the Arab and the lion. They were lying where the beast had fallen in the night, and his stiffened jaws still held the body of the man as in a powerful vice. The desire of preserving a record of the event for my friends in England to look at was too strong to be resisted, so we set to work; cut three pieces of timber to a point, and, having raised the lion to an upright position, kept him upon by means of the pieces of wood. To conceal these, I planted a shrub here and there, which had the desired effect; and the result I obtained was a negative, the like of which, I believe, never was seen. The attitude is as natural as possible, and makes one shudder to look at it.
After the operation of taking this picture was concluded, I thought I might as well take another of the scene of the occurrence, but a glance at the number of plates I had with me induced me to refrain, as I feared that, if I did so, I might be prevented from taking a picture of more interest on a future occasion. Indeed, I find my stock of collodion getting low, and as to buying or making any before returning to Algiers, that is out of the question.
After our morning meal was finished, and my apparatus repacked, we started in search of game; we were not particular as to the kind, our chief object being to find an occupation which should give us sufficient excitement to prevent the time from hanging heavily on our hands. Your readers will, perhaps, be surprised to learn that the great amusement of the upper classes in England many years ago, hawking, is still practiced by the Arabs. Great pains is [sic] taken in training these birds for the sport, and a good deal of barbarity is exercised on the animals which are employed for the purpose of teaching. Two of our party carried hawks, and soon after we had started from our camping place an opportunity was given to one of them to try his prowess on a hare. The animal was feeding on the border of an extensive plateau, and on our emerging from among the trees immediately behind her, she started off at speed across the open. The Arab threw off his hawk as quickly as possible, with the exclamation—“In the name of Allah!” a phrase intended to sanctify the game, which otherwise would not be lawful food, in consequence of its not being killed in the orthodox manner. The bird rose up in the air to a great height, while we went galloping along after the hare at coursing speed, but gradually losing ground, in consequence of the bushes that were sprinkled about; and, for my own part, I was too much engaged in looking after the hawk to mind where I was going, and if my horse had rolled over, as he was very near doing more than once, it is possible that it would have deprived you of t his letter. Suddenly, I observed that the hawk, which had reached a height where he appeared to me to be stationary, began to descend with tremendous velocity, and, almost before I could pull my horse up to get a steadier view of what took place, came right upon the hare like a thunderbolt, the animal rolling over and over like a ball, in consequence of the speed at which it was running when it received the blow. On my reaching the spot the hare showed no signs of life, although the bird was busily engaged in tearing out its eyes.
All this has not much to do with photography, has it? Yet, if any photographers come out here this summer—and no doubt they will—they will not be likely to find anything more interesting to write about; for I conceive that your readers would not care to read how I sometimes find that the negative is deficient in sharpness; how I sometimes find that I have exposed too long, and at others too short a time, though the actual length of the exposure has been precisely the same, and the circumstances under which the exposure took place, Identical; followed by ingenious speculations as to the cause or causes, all more or less wide of the truth. All this might be both interesting and perhaps useful, if I were in England, but would be of no sort of use writing from this country. As to the real difficulties under which any of my brethren in the art would labour, in the same situation in which I am placed, I feel that their native ingenuity would enable them to get over them in the same way that I do, viz., by adopting an expedient suitable to the occasion. C.A.
1859: P News, April 21, vol. II, #33, p. 75:
Critical Notices. The Moon in the Stereoscope. Photographed by Herbert Fry.
The idea of a stereogram of the moon is at first sight calculated to surprise many who have not considered the subject; and even those who are best informed on such matters most probably have never seen one.
The mode in which a stereoscopic picture of the moon is obtained is, we need hardly say, by taking advantage of the moon’s librations, which, for the benefit of our younger readers, we may explain is the result of the moon’s motion in her orbit being quicker or slower at one time than another, while at the same time the rate of rotation on her axis is unvarying; so that we are able by means of the telescope to observe sometimes a little more of one side and then a little more of the other, alternately; and the same with respect to the north and south polar regions. The first to avail himself of this circumstance to take a lunar picture for the stereoscope was, we believe, Mr. Delarue, (sic) though whether he succeeded so well as Mr. Fry has done is a point on which we have heard different opinions.
Nobody can be more familiar than ourselves with the difficulties of obtaining a photograph of the moon of sufficient value to be used as a map; in which the mountains, craters, and other features of the moon’s surface are rendered with fidelity. Mr. Fry, however, seems to [have had peculiar facilities. The instrument he used was placed at his disposal by Mr. C. Howell, of Brighton. It was an equatorial telescope of nine feet sidereal focus, and about six inches and a half diameter of object glass, fitted with clock work, which, by means of governor balls, could be made to follow the apparent motion of the moon so exactly that to all intents and purposes she remained stationary while the photograph was being taken. The stereogram by Mr. Fry is a transparent positive, and, when seen by a powerful transmitted light, presents a distinct picture of the various features of the lunar surface; and is rendered of more value by the fact, that each picture is accompanied with a paper photograph in which the principal points are numbered and indexed.
1859: P News, April 21, vol. II, #33, p. 79:
People on the Moon.
To the Editor of “The Photographic News.”
Sir,--A paragraph appeared in your issue of the 17th [sic; 11th] of March, in which it is stated that an Italian, after six years’ labour, had, by means of photography, and the microscope, been enabled to see animated beings on the moon—and that some of these beings approach the human shape, and go unclothed. That people on the moon—if there be any—should go unclothed, is no remarkable phenomenon, inasmuch as about one-half of the people on this earth wear little or no apparel. The first impression that would strike the minds of the majority of your readers on running over the paragraph referred to, would be that it is a hoax—a sort of repetition of the extraordinary moon story of about twenty years ago. Those of your subscribers who know anything of the telescope, of photography, and of the microscope, would perhaps not be quite so incredulous. I remember, two years ago, mentioning to a friend the probability of small objects on the surface of the moon being rendered visible by means of the telescope, photography, and the microscope. This week, during a conversation with one of the most eminent physicians in Newcastle, I found that he had, three years ago, expressed a somewhat similar opinion. To hope to see small objects in the moon by means of the telescope only, seems to me to be “hoping against hope.” One thousand is about the highest magnifying power a telescope will bear, and it is equivalent to looking at a lunar object 240 miles distant, a distance at which an object 250 yards square would appear about one-eighth of an inch in diameter. Immediately on reading the paragraph to which I have referred, I made the following calculation. The moon is 240,000 miles from the earth; a telescope with a power of 1,000 will present objects on the surface of the moon as if they were 240 miles distant. If it be practicable to take a photograph of the moon, through the eye-piece of a telescope, magnifying 1,000 diameters, and there be applied to that photograph a microscopic magnifying power of 1,000, which is far from being the highest power used, then objects on the moon will present themselves to the microscopic observer as if they were only 422 yards distant, a distance at which small objects, such as a man or any ordinary-sized animal, might easily be recognised and the general contour perfectly distinguished. The only important practical difficulty is to obtain a clear photograph through a powerful eye-piece, and if your skilled photographic readers can assure me of this, I’ll undertake to show, with distinctness, objects on the moon a trifle larger than a rat.—I am, yours respectfully, T. P. Barkas.
1859: P News, April 29, vol. II, #34, p. 92-93:
People In the Moon.
To the Editor of the “Photographic News.”
Sire,--By Mr. T. P. Barkas’s letter in the “Photographic News” of this week, he seems to me to be labouring under a pleasing delusion with regard to the practicability of distinguishing, by means of telescope, photography, and microscope, objects in the moon of the small dimensions of which he speaks. I beg to differ with him on this point for the following reasons, viz., since it takes a finite time to photograph the moon, there will be (besides the error caused by refraction of every ray which falls upon the sensitive plate) a great change in the relative position of any object in the moon, on account of her librations in latitude and longitude, which, in so delicate an operation, will not be inconsiderable, so that anything of the size of a rat will have moved relatively to the sensitised plate both in latitude and longitude, and would, therefore, be denoted by a tortuous curve, since the librations in latitude may at one time be greater, and at another time less than those in longitude. Again, allowing that a very small object, as a rat, can be got successfully on a plate, I imagine that a microscope which could magnify so small an object to a capability of being distinguished, would so magnify the imperfections of the best collodion and manipulation, as to make these errors manifold more discernible than the object. When we can get our collodion to such a nicety that no microscope can detect the slightest impurity in it, and when we can get a room for the manipulation so free from dust that no microscope can detect a deposit on the wet film, and when we can find a manipulator who can develop, &c., with the requisite accuracy for so delicate a picture, and when we can find an equatorial which will get rid of any error caused by the moon’s librations, and the molecules of the atmosphere will cease to obstruct the pencils of light necessary for so beautiful a discovery as minute objects in the moon—then, I think, and not until then, can we reasonably hope to distinguish small objects in the silvery Eye of Night. –I am, Sir, yours obediently, J. C. Browne. Cambridge, April 23rd, 1859
1859: P News, May 6, vol. II, #35, p. 100:
Critical Notices. Photographs taken at the Cape of Good Hope. By Mr. John Simpson. London: Bland and Co.
The collection of views before us are taken from wax paper negatives, and, when we consider the fact that they are among some of the earliest attempts at photography in that far distant colony, and take into account the difficulties which amateurs must necessarily have to contend with, we must express our admiration at the results of Mr. Simpson’s efforts. Photographers who reside in and near London, in these days of fast travelling, can ill judge of the almost insurmountable obstacles which must constantly be presenting themselves to the colonial photographic amateur. Imagine, for a moment, an operator being three months without hypo.! After having duly exercised that virtue which it is said is rarely found in the female portion of society, and never (?) in the male portion—patience, imagine him again having to pay an exorbitantly high price for it when procurable. These are among some of the trifles which are likely to damp the ardour of an enthusiastic photographer. Judging from the Indian views by Dr. Murray and Mr. Hamilton Clarke, which were exhibited in the Society’s last two exhibitions, we have no hesitation in pronouncing Mr. Simpson’s, in many respects, far superior. They are clearer in tone, and give much greater detail. Indeed, so fine is this feature in some instances, that we have often seen collodion pictures far inferior. Of course, there is apparent in the views before us, the fact that they were taken in rather a strong light, a great intensity of black and white occasionally occurring. The architectural views are very good indeed; and the selection of the sites often evince great artistic taste. From the landscapes it would be unfair to expect much, seeing that definite detail in the distant perspective is, generally speaking, almost impossible in paper negatives. Such a series of photographs as these would prove an interesting feature in a photographic exhibition, considering that there now seems to be such a rage for anything “South African,” in spite of the warning picture constantly before the eyes of metropolitan omnibus travelers, depicting the agnoised faces of three individuals who were induced to taste “South African,” (popularly believed to be a votive offering from the survivor in order to save others from do dreadful a fate).
1859: P News, May 6, vol. II, #35, p. 103:
People in the Moon.
To the Editor of the “Photographic News.”
Dear Sir,--It must, I am sure, be a source of great gratification to your numerous readers to find that “Mr. Barkas” is willing to show us so much more than anybody has yet seen of the surface of the moon.
Perhaps I may be permitted to draw the attention of that gentleman to a circumstance which appears to have misled him in his calculations. The highest power that can be applied with advantage to lunar observations is about 240, so that in representing the observer to have a power of 1,000 at his command, a very grave error is committed.
With regard to the rat Mr. Barkas so obligingly offers to exhibit, I confess that my own impression is, that on attempting the operation, the only result from the lunar “mons” would be a “ridiculus mus.”
In conclusion, allow me to place at Mr. Barkas’s disposal any number of transparencies of the moon he may wish; and should he obtain anything at all approaching the result he so confidently asserts, no one will be more gratified than myself.—Yours truly, Samuel Fry.
79, King’s Road, Brighton, April 25, 1859
1859: P News, May 13, vol. II, #36, p. 113:
Critical Notices.
The Stereoscopic Treasury. London: A. W. Bennett.
During the last few years the improvements and alterations which have been made in the shape and adaptability of the stereoscope are truly surprising. At one time the instrument, compared with the kinds now in use, was heavy, unwieldy, and inelegant; now we have artistic and neat designs which, while they are a great advance optically, are also superior in point of taste. Among the various styles which we have seen, there are certainly none which excel the “Clairvoyant Stereoscope” in point of utility, elegance, compactness, and general adaptability; the focusing—usually a difficult matter in the best instruments—is obtained in this one so easily and correctly that even those who usually find great difficulty in using the stereoscope could not fail with this at once to obtain the desired effect. The instrument, by an ingenious device, is equally applicable to opaque and transparent pictures, and is made so as to fit into a compact case, in which may be stored a small library of stereograms. We are sure that it well deserves its title of “Stereoscopic Treasury,” and needs only to be known to recommend itself.
1859: P News, May 20, vol. II, #37, p. 125:
Critical Notices. Stereograms of the Vale of Neath.
We have been shown a series of landscape stereograms, taken chiefly in the neighbourhood of Neath. In these days of extensive stereographic publication, we are accustomed to see such really excellent things that, when we come upon anything not up to the standard, we are inclined to look upon it as only mediocre. The views before us have many good points in them; but, in regard to the photographic department, they are scarcely up to the mark. They are too intense, and, as a consequence, there is, in many instances, scarcely any half-tone, and too little detail. The best view in the series is the “Old Flint Mill, Vale of Neath.” The treatment of this subject is very clever, as the very things which cause defects in the other pictures add to the interest and beauty of this. The hard and flinty character of the soil, and the arid scenery, are greatly heightened by the intense tone in which these photographs are printed. The views “Dinas Glen,” and the “Lower Cillufiste Fael, Vale of Neath,” are two very interesting little bits of scenery; and, if the defects which we have pointed out were remedied, few series of stereograms would be found capable of affording more interesting employment for a leisure half hour.
1859: P News, June 17, vol. II, #41, p. 172:
Photography at the Seat of War.
… [sic] Nadar has been sent for to head-quarters for a particular mission; and perhaps at the present moment photography, represented by him, floats in a balloon over the field of battle, for the purpose of depicting the manœuvres of the enemy. Thus the bold attempt made by him some months since in the hippodrome, which was ridiculed at the time by certain strong-minded parties, has been, possibly, applied to an indisputably useful purpose which may result in its author reaping a reward at which we shall greatly rejoice. At the same time, other of Nièpce’s disciples are taking photographs of greater or less interest, and, thanks to these, we can follow the triumphal progress of our troops. We cannot say whether or not the general and superior officers who died so gloriously in the combats at Montebello, Palestra, or in the great battle of Magenta had their portraits taken previously; but we know that most of the subaltern officers figure largely in the collections of portraits which have been made. It is the fashion to have one’s portrait taken in camp. The Turcos are especially and unexpectedly fond of submitting to the operation. One of them wished to be represented in the act of seizing an Austrian prisoner whom he had managed to get hold of in the mêlée, and was overjoyed when the photographer handed him the desired picture. A Zouave waited on Disdéri the evening previous to the fight at Palestra, and addressed him thus:-- “Friend, perhaps to-morrow it may be my turn to mount guard in another world; but, previously, I should like to send my portrait to my birthplace.” “Nothing can be more easy, my fine fellow,” replied the artist; “we will operate directly, and the portrait will be ready for you when you call to-morrow.” The next day our Zouave returned, and the portrait was handed eto him. He looked at it for some time, but appeared by no means over pleased with it. “Sapristi!” he exclaimed, “that is not like me now.” “What is wanting?:” asked Disdéri. “Nothing is wanting; on the contrary, there is too much,” replied the Zouave. “How too much?” “No doubt of it, you have represented me with two hands!” “Well, and are they not admirably brought out?” “Yes, indeed, but just look here, I have only one now.” He had had his hand taken off at the wrist.
A photographer writes to us, under date the 9th June …. At Frecate two peasants stopped my mule as he was taking a run across the fields, with the whole of my apparatus. You should have seen the fright expressed in their faces at the sight of my camera, which they evidently supposed to be a gun of novel construction. Indeed, you may see the expression of their faces, for I was so amused by their attitude, that I took a picture of them there and then.
I shall bring back in my portfolio photographs of all kinds, and which would be useful to a painter of battle scenes; some of them are dated from the cemetery at Montebello. That which I could not depict was the emotion I felt in this asylum of the dead, where corpses lay above and below the ground—where the soldiers came from amidst the horrors of the fight to breathe their last on the graves. A mournful spectacle I assure you, and on e which was only softened by the reflection that the cause for which they died was a just one. I am convinced, too, that the blessings of the Italian people must have alleviated their last agonies.
You cannot conceive the extent to which our troops are electrified by the enthusiastic reception they have met with…..We are often requested to make double portraits consisting of one Zouave and a Sardinian rifleman—a great intimacy subsisting between these two corps. I met a good many well-known Parisians yesterday at Novara. Among them were M. Audigen, the correspondent of the Patrie, who was in company of M. Durand Brager, whose pencil rendered such valuable services in the Crimea. As regards photographers, I have only met Desdéri; but I know that they are all along the line. You may believe me, photography will do its duty here bravely…..—La Lumière
1859: P News, July 1, vol. II, #43, p. 198:
Critical Notices. Photographs at the Handel Festival.—Negretti and Zambra, Hatton Garden.
That the Handel Festival, which formed the staple of the conversation at every dinner party in London for several days, should have passed by without being recorded photographically, would have reflected discredit on our art. To give a truthful picture of such fleeting scenes as these is one of the chief advantages of photography, and such an occasion as that referred to above was not allowed to pass without its services being called into requisition.
Those who were present will remember the precaution taken to exclude the sunlight from the orchestra—a precaution which, however much it added to the comfort of the audience, by no means facilitated the operations of Messrs. Negretti and Zambra, of Hatton Garden, who are the photographers attached to the Crystal Palace—especially as the awning was formed of a yellow-coloured waterproof material, and as the roof of the transept itself is covered with calico: the glass of the roof itself, moreover, being of a peculiar tinge not at all favourable to photographic operations; thus rendering necessary an exposure ten times longer in duration than would be required in an ordinary glass room. We do not enumerate these drawbacks to excuse the pictures obtained under these condition, but to show what skilful photographers can accomplish under adverse circumstances. The pictures were taken from the organ loft, the first on Saturday, the day of the rehearsal; the second on Wednesday, when the “Messiah” was given; and a third on Friday, when the attendance too hear “Israel in Egypt” was even greater than on the previous days. If the print taken on Wednesday may be taken as a specimen of those taken on the other days, which we have not yet seen, they are undoubtedly good. By looking at the faces with a suitable magnifying glass it is not difficult to recognize those with which we are acquainted, and in this respect the print is far better than that taken on the occasion of Her Majesty visiting the Crystal Palace with the Emperor and Empress of France.
1859: P News, July 8, vol. II, #44, p. 211:
Balloon Photography.
We have on many occasions advocated the employment of balloons for photographing military positions, and that the photographers who form a part of the corps of engineers should be exercised in this kind of photography. Many months since we announced that M. Nadar, the well-known photographer, had made an ascent from the Hippodrome at Paris, and we have been recently informed that he has been sent for by the French War Minister with a view to ascertain if his services can be made available in Italy. The ascent of M. Goddard is a proof of the serious view taken by the Emperor of France of such means of ascertaining the position of the enemy.
1859: P News, July 15, vol. II, #45, p. 221:
Critical Notices.
Stereograms of Dovedale, &c., by Mr. W. Woodward.
If a foreigner, who was desirous of seeing some of the most picturesque spots in this country, were to ask what part of England we considered best calculated to give a good idea of our landscape scenery, we should say, almost without hesitation, Dovedale. It is well known that Derbyshire is considered one of the most beautiful counties in England, on account of the varied character of its scenery—so bold, yet so enchanting. There are, probably, more beautiful pieces of landscape scenery, of the truly English class, to be seen in Derbyshire than anywhere else in the United Kingdom. But the most beautiful portion of that county is Dovedale. To the photographer who is desirous of obtaining good landscape views, it is invaluable, as he can scarcely place his camera in any position without securing a good picture. Mr. Woodward, however, seems to have been most careful in the selection of his pictures. His views of those places which are well known, have been taken in most instances from the best possible position. The consequence is, that the views before us are the most artistic that we have seen for some time. They rise far above the ordinary class of landscape slides which we have seen, and to persons desirous of possessing really good landscape pictures, we can most conscientiously recommend them. In regard to the photographic manipulation, they bear the traces of the same careful treatment which marks Mr. Woodward’s productions. While the printing is admirable and exceedingly uniform, they are rich in tone and clear in definition; there is an absence of the leaden cold tone which too often disfigures stereoscopic landscape views. Apart from the pleasure and instruction which slides of this class must give to the general public, we think that they are calculated to be of great use to the artist as studies. Every one of the pictures before us would make the groundwork for exquisite landscape pictures, and had they only colour they would be certain to attract great attention as artistic in selection of site. “The Needle Rock,” and the “View from Lovers’ Leap,” are two charming pieces of landscape scenery, and are, perhaps, the best in the series. The other views chiefly consist more or less of river scenery, which are very cleverly given; perhaps the least successful is the rock called “Dovedale Church,” owing to the large mass of white which is in the centre of the picture, and again, the abrupt effect which is produced by stopping out the sky. In the other river views the effect has been much more ably rendered than in the slide above alluded to; the reflections in the water and the distant half tints, combined with the greatest delicacy of detail, make them very beautiful views. These views are respectively called—“View near the Entrance to the Dale,” “The Stret Rock,” “The Twelve Apostles,” “The Pickerill Tor;” the first-named contain very many beauties, both artistic and photographic, as also does the “Twelve Apostles.” In fact, it is almost useless to institute comparisons between the different slides, seeing that so much depends upon the character of the view to be rendered. In taking views of this high class, Mr. Woodward is doing good service to photography, by raising it from the degrading position to which some would-be artists are attempting to drag it.
1859: P News, July 15, vol. II, #45, p. 225-226:
A Photographic Trip Up The Wye.
Sir,--At the present moment, the most interesting subject to photographers is the consideration where they shall spend their holiday, and I think, therefore, I shall be doing them a kindness by sending you for publication an account of my trip up the Wye, which I think will be sufficient to prove that of all places in the kingdom there is none which offers more advantages to the photographer than this.
The beauty of the scenery on the Wye is so well known by reputation, that it is unnecessary to dilate upon it; I shall, therefore, confine myself chiefly to those objects which struck me as being sufficiently remarkable to be photographed.
Instead of coming down the river, as is the ordinary practice, I decided on sailing up it, as I was not quite sure that time would allow me to visit all the interesting places on the river, and my friend, whose boat I borrowed, had told me that the best subjects for photographs were to be found near its mouth. The mention of a boat need not induce your readers to imagine that such conveyance is absolutely necessary; it is no doubt an advantage, and, at times, advisable, but there are paths alongside the river nearly all the way. I may mention, too, before I go farther, that the cheapest, and, as I think, the best way of reaching the spot, for him who starts from London, is to go by the excursion train to Bristol, an d then he will be able to get across to Chepstow without difficulty, and commence his upward journey.
Chepstow itself being the beginning of my journey, I was rather more lavish of my plates than I should probably have been if it had been the termination of it; but I am glad of it now, as the trouble is forgotten and the negatives remain. The old castle was the first object which attracted my attention; of this I took three views—one of the arched entrance, including the two large round towers and a portion of the ruins on either side, one of the opposite side, and the third of the end which approaches the cliff, on the top of which I placed my camera. I have always considered that the pleasure one derives from the possession of a picture is greatly enhanced where a legend or a historical recollection is associated with it. Thus the negatives of these ruins remind me of the time when the castle was besieged by the parliamentary forces under Cromwell, in the time of Charles I., when a small body of royalists defended it against them until nearly a third of their number, including their commander, was killed, and the remainder all but starved. The keep is generally called Marten’s Tower, from the circumstance that Marten, who was one of the judges who tried Charles I., was imprisoned here after the restoration, for twenty years, until he died, when his body was laid in the chancel of Chepstow church, until one of the vicars, feeling greatly scandalised that a regicide’s bones should rest so near the altar, had them taken up and buried in the nave. I tried to take a picture of the cliff and a part of the ruins from the river, but failed to get one that was satisfactory, in consequence of the slight motion of the boat.
We left our apparatus in the care of the boatman while we visited the grounds of Piercefield, as it was getting too late to think of taking a picture, and, moreover, the view, though most beautiful to the eye, is not calculated so well for a photograph. Nothing can be more delightful than the walk along the paths on the top of the cliffs. The sun was getting low when we commenced our walk, and no words can express the beauty of the views, which extended for miles. The scenery through which the river takes its course was bathed in as rich hues as ever met the eye in an Italian landscape; and every now and then as the path wound along, near the top of the cliff, we caught glimpses of a scene diversified with the ruins of the castle, or the town itself with the bridge and port and the large vessels which lay stranded therein, left there by the receding tide, which I was told rose here to a height of fifty feet.
It was getting dark when we reached the end of our walk in these grounds, so we deferred our visit to Wyndcliff until the next morning. Partly, perhaps, from our not seeing them under the garb of sunset, they did not strike us at being equal in beauty to those of Piercefield, but they are, nevertheless, of wondrous beauty. There is one view in special which I would advise none of your readers to miss seeing who may decided on going to this part, and that is the view from the highest cliff, which is little less than 800 feet high. It is said that from it you obtain a view which includes portions of nine counties; of the truth of this statement I can say nothing, except that it struck me as being very likely. On the one hand, we could see the estuary of the Severn with the country beyond, and the whole of Chepstow and the ruins of the castle, with the cliffs and woods of Piercefield. In another direction we could follow the course of the Wye through a less rich country, the background of which was formed by the dark mountains, forming a view of quite a different character to the first, beside many other views varying in their general features, but remarkable for their beauty.
After drinking some water in the little moss-covered cottage at the foot of the steps which lead to the summit of the cliff, we returned to our boat and sailed slowly up the river until we neared Tintern Abbey. To take a picture of this far-famed spot was, of course, a predetermined resolution, so while my friend remained to take care of the boat, the boatman loaded himself with my apparatus, and we proceeded to the Abbey. No matter from what point of view you look at the ruins, it is worthy of being photographed, and I hardly know any place which furnishes prettier pictures for the stereoscope. I took several negatives, and among them were some for the stereoscope, which I prize very highly, two of which are pictures of the interior of the ruins. I worked here four hours, and am more satisfied with the results of my labour than with the results of any four hours’ work either before or since. To see Tintern Abbey by moonlight is one of the finest spectacles the eye of man ever rested upon, and we were fortunate enough to obtain this view; for feeling that I had done quite enough for one day, we decided on staying where we were for the night, and visiting the ruins after we had dined, and I would recommend any photographer, who happens to be there when there is a moon, to do likewise.
On leaving Tintern we did not stop, except to take an occasional picture, until we reached Monmouth. The distance by land is, I believe, not more than five miles, but it is considerably more by water, I imagine, judging from the time it took us to get there. The town of Monmouth itself only yielded two good negatives, one of which includes the remains of the old gatehouse, at the extreme end of the town; but the town is, nevertheless, very beautifully situated; and I dare say we most of us remember the enthusiastic manner in which Fluellyn speaks of it, when referring to the birthplace of Henry V., and compares it with Macedon, the birthplace of Alexander the Great:--“If you look in the maps of the world, I warrant you shall find, in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations look you is both alike. There is a river in Macedon; and there is also, moreover, a river at Monmouth; it is called Wye at Monmouth; but it is out of my prains [sic] what is the name of the other river; but ‘tis all one; ‘tis so like as is my fingers to my fingers, and there is salmons in both.” Whether the same point of resemblance still exists I can’t say, but certainly “there is salmons” at Monmouth, for we had an excellent specimen of that fish at our dinner.
The day after we arrived here we hired a trap to drive over to Raglan Castle, the ruins of which are described as being very fine, and of which I hoped to get some good negatives, but, unfortunately, it began to rain in a way which compelled us to turn about and come back before we had got a mile on our journey there, and as I could not well spare another day for the purpose, I lost the opportunity of getting a picture, which I much regret.
The next morning we left Monmouth, and had the pleasantest sail imaginable along the river. The scenery, for the first two or three miles, is of that character which, to be thoroughly enjoyed, should be viewed through the smoke of the after-breakfast cigar, unless, indeed, the photographer is fortunate enough to have a fair assistant with whom he can exchange opinions, and consult as to the selection of a view. It is quiet and beautiful, and it is not until you are some distance from Monmouth that it presents an appearance which tempts you to land for the purpose of taking a picture. One of the prints which I forward to you by the same post which carries this letter will, I think, satisfy you that few places in England are better worth taking for the stereoscope or otherwise, than the Coldwell Rocks.
The grandeur and picturesque appearance of this part of the river cannot, I should think be surpassed anywhere, not even in foreign countries, where so many English go who are almost entirely ignorant of the beauties of their native land. The picture was taken from the bed of the river, on one of the shallows of which I pitched my camera. I have three other negatives of different positions of the same rocks, but I have not yet had time to print from them, but as soon as I do so I will forward you proofs. They were not taken without difficulty, owing to the unstable character of the bed of the river, which interfered with the planting of the tripod, so as to get a perfectly level table for the support of the camera.
As my letter has already extended to some length, I shall defer the remainder until another week.--Yours obediently, R.A. W.
1859: P News, July 22, vol. II, #46, p. 232-233:
Australian Nature and the Art of the Photographer.
Few persons are now of sufficient age, to recollect the sensation which the natural productions of New Holland produced in Europe, when first brought hither. A quadruped furnished with the bill of a duck,* (*Ornithorynchus paradoxus) a hedgehog of a similar extraordinary appearance, † (†Echidna histrix) a tree which bore wooden pears, and similar anomalous productions, astonished the general public, while even the learned shared that surprise. It was the celebrated Professor Blumenbach, of Göttingen, who thought that the continent of New Holland was a piece of the moon or other star, which had fallen with its strange productions on the surface of our globe. Successively, when other parts of the world became more thoroughly examined, there were found intermediate and transition types, and placed new Holland and its nature into due equilibrium with the other creation.
Still, Australian nature is one replete with wonder and beauty, and the civilised world will become astonished and pleased, whenever heliography will have brought to our notice the various products of that strange land. To being with the highest types of nature: the aspect of the starry heavens is so different from that of our northern hemisphere, and the southern cross and the Magellanic clouds are sights of surprising interest. As photography has already succeeded in fixing and retaining the heaving waves of the ocean, the world of clouds in Australia (a knowledge first hinted at by Howard) will be the more interesting, as it is in that part of the world alone, that those nuggets of ice, some 6 and 7 inches long, descend from heaven, and indicate a strange and different composition and arrangement of the atmospheric elements. All these subjects our noble art ought to seize, as they will not only interest Europe, but be a source of profit to the artist thus engaged. In all these endeavours we recommend boldness and a large scale of plates, because it is only such which will find their way into works and periodicals of a high order.
It was when examining, several years ago, the fine paintings of American nature, by Mr. Catlin, that the idea struck us that there may be, in those distant wilds, geological phenomena, if not geological formations, not observed hitherto in other parts and unknown to science. Now, amongst the numerous aids which science in general will receive from photography, that afforded to geology will be one of the most important; because no amount of industry or talent will ever enable the draughtsman to delineate the face of these gaps and crevices and éboulements, which are the very anatomical preparations of that huge organism called the globe. Not to mention some most curious forms and appearances in the interior of the Australian Alps, seen but by few Europeans; yet, the Shoal-haven Gully, south of Sydney, said to be 2,000 feet deep (?), is an object of the greatest curiosity; more worthy of attention that those numberless sights of the Swiss Alps, reproduced now usque ad nauseam. And we have yet to observe, that the more varied be the usages to which photography may be applied, this will not only benefit those department of art and science, but impart to heliography new methods and new proceedings. And thus we are convinced that the seizing of large extents of the cloudy atmosphere, as well as that of large geological tableaux, will require and bring forth new proceedings of tinting and colouring.—Several parts of Australia are surrounded by iron-bound shores and rocks, some of which are even of historical interest’ for instance, the rocks called Tasman and his Wife, in Tasman’s Peninsula (Van Diemen’s Land), where the Dutch navigator first landed, in 1646, a discovery considered even then so important, that the paved floor of the court house in Dortrecht was made to represent the track of this enterprising man.
If, as we said before, everything in New Holland exhibits such a strange and original character, we may, commencing with the general features of the country, first mention its flower-meadows, which also are distinct from anything of the kind in Europe, and can only be compared somewhat with the large Ericeta (heaths) of the Cape of Good Hope. In Australia, there are miles of partly sandy and partly swampy ground, covered by myriads of those little shrubs and plants, which, in England, constitute the pride of our conservatories. Such are Epacris, Delvynia, Gompholobium, and the like, which being all very ornamental and fine flowering, impart to these localities a very great charm. The hand and eye of the draughtsman would weary to trace these numberless forms, and it is only heliography which can lay down infinite objects in an infinitely short space of time. To make such a view still more interesting to the descriptive geographer, we have to state, that those Australian flower-meadows must not be imagined as being destitute of larger shrubs and trees. On the contrary, here and there one of the fantastic palm-like Xantorrheas, or Casuarinas, somewhat resembling a weeping willow, or even a large gum tree (Eucalyptus), diversify the aspect, and add to the originality of the sight. We may here state our general belief, that as soon as geography will really deserve the name of an earth-depictor, such scenes and sights will largely appear in its pages, to displace those descriptions of dynastic palaces and other transitory political phenomena, now occupying so much of its space.
Our allusions to Australian scenery would not be considered complete, if we were not to mention those natural parks, if we may so call them, which struck even the first tourists to the antipodes. Their appearance denotes good pasture land, and the soil is a compound of sand and humus. As in our parks, stately trees are scattered over the ground, mostly gum (Eucalyptus), a tree which often does not branch off but at a height of 50 or 60 feet, and the bark of which is often of a white, glossy colour. With the exception of a very little under-wood, the soil is covered with tender grass, and these are the places where the millions of merino sheep, introduced so fortuitously into these colonies, graze the whole year round—wandering gold-mines, as it were, which now yield a million sterling every year. The sight of these park-like localities, illumined by either the rising or setting sun, under a sky ever clear and brilliant, will yield unsurpassed scenery to the camera of an able artist. If we proceed north (towards the line), Australian nature assumes a more tropical aspect, and near Moreton Bay forests are to be met with so dense, that they are spread over with darkness, even in the day time.
The members of the Alpine Club, and the friends of similar enterprise, will learn with pleasure, that Australia also presents opportunities for the healthful and invigorating alp-climbing—although at a rather long distance. Under that latitude, however, these mountains do not attain the limit of perennial ice (glaciers), and only their summit being at particular seasons covered with a transient layer of snow. But there are gullies and secluded valleys there, where the snow has destroyed long tracts of the semi-tropical vegetation. Here the professional photographer or amateur may find a vast field of interesting and lucrative employment; as, we repeat, the engraver, woodcutter, and publishers, all over Europe, are most anxious for novel and well-executed heliographic plates. (to be concluded in our next.)
1859: P News, July 29, vol. II, #47, p. 245-246:
Australian nature—and the Art of the Photographer.* (*Continued from vol. ii. P. 233)
We begin to consider our present endeavour as something novel, viz., to sketch, in a short space, the features of a whole part of the world, in as far as designing art and photography are concerned. With the other parts of the glove, this would be a matter of compilation; with us it is autopsy, and the result of a sojourn in that—one of the fairest lands on the face of the earth. As the Andes have now found their depictor in the highest pitch of art, we trust that some spirited men of talent will also soon take up that future empress of the southern hemisphere. Australia has no sculptor like Power yet, as her elder sister of the western world; still, the art of the landscaper has already been somewhat exerted in its behalf. Leaving aside the merely geographical views of the older travelers, it is Westall, the painter of the Flinders-Brown Expedition, the landscapes of whom, included in the “Voyage,” are of great merit. Twenty or thirty years ago, Mr. Glover, known at that time in the London exhibitions, settled in Van Diemen’s Land; but we do not know whether the splendid sight of Table Mountain, impending, as it were, over the capital of Hobart Town, or the basaltic giant’s colonnades of Cape Roul, *c., ever occupied his pencil. There have appeared of late some photographs of Australian scenery in London, but they are not of great value. Lithography, and even zincography, was introduced as early as the year 1834, in Sydney, and of the former some small but characteristic plates were then published. At that time, also, the first sheet of music was printed in Sydney.
But we have now to continue to point out those subjects which will interest the photographic artist. Although of comparatively recent origin, the Australian provinces can boast of some historical scenery, which deserves well to be represented in the highest scale of art. Apart from the landing places of Abel van Tasman, alluded to in the former article, it is James Cook and Joseph Banks who forcibly strike the imagination of every Englishman. On those precipitous sandstone rocks of the south shore of Botany-Bay, a modest brass tablet (erected by Governor Brisbane) points at the spot where the Endeavour first cast anchor in the Bay; outside heave the waves and rollers of the South Sea. Another most interesting scene is the little brook, somewhat farther west, near the banks of the Bay, the watering-place of Captain Cook, so well described in his Journal; and it was these identical shrubs and plants growing around, which Banks and Solander first examined, and which, by their novelty, astonished Europe, and gave Botany the appellation of a Bay. On the north short of this inlet is the modest, yet interesting monument erected by the French Government on the spot where the unfortunate La Peyrouse and his expedition had stopped last, and was then never heard of no more. The Government House, Sydney, the first built in the country the abode of some talented and worthy men, like General M’Quarry (called old M’Quarry), Thomas Brisbane, &c., deserves to be preserved for posterity. Here, therefore, we have arrived aqt the highest vocation of photography, viz., to preserve in life-true delineations sites, as they were when first trodden by the white man and civilisation—sites, the more important at a future period, when the destinies of these countries will have become more defined and developed. Antiquities, properly so speaking, the main land of New Holland has none, except the tracks and roads trodden out by the naked feet of the wandering native tribes, through the succession of centuries, even in the barren rocks. Some such, as they are met with, for instance, in the Australian Alps, ought also to be carefully preserved in large plates. We may state here, that such photographs ought to be taken soon, as the onward wave of civilisation and population will, ere long, roll over these localities, and cover them with their often unmeaning gloss. If, however, the Legislatures of the Five Confederated Provinces should each only vote a moderate sum, some opus ære perennius could be produced, as we shall detail hereafter.
Although there does not yet exist a general physical description of Australia (a work, after all, perhaps yet premature), still valuable data have been laid down both in books as well as in periodicals. Botanical geography being one of the chief departments of such a description, claims first our attention. Robert Brown says, that one-fifth of the whole vegetation of Australia consists of gum (Eucalyptus), and he is right; but of this genus more than fifty species are already known, and each, so much varied in size, form, foliage, colour of bark, &c., impart to the scenery an especial character, and photographs of such scenery would be amongst the most striking, interesting, and instructive. There are gum trees in Australia upwards of a hundred feet high, of a gigantic stem, the bark of which is as if painted with some white varnish, the (perennial) leaves being of a lustrous colour. Some smaller, shrub-like species, widely diffused, have leaves quite silvery, and the traveller thinks that he is pacing through one of the gardens of Armida. What photography can do now (only thirty years after its invention), is to give us a most correct and life-like delineation and shading of the scenes subjected to its process. What will and can be yet done for the equally life-like colouring and tinting of such plates, their manifold reproduction, &c., lies also in the womb of futurity. But great occasions and great scopes will and must produce great results! If we add to the Eucalyptus scenery that of the flower-meadows and shrubberies, the Acacia forests, before alluded to, all over the country; the palm groves of Morton Bay and Port Essington, the thickets of arborescent fern trees (Alksophylla Australis), we may have stated enough for the present scope of the photographic artist and traveller. Mr. Church’s picture of the Andes already indicates, that different aspects and characters will appertain to the landscapes of distant countries, if once seized by a perfected photography, and the Claude Lorraines and Poussins of a future time. (To be continued)
1859: P News, July 29, vol. II, #47, p. 246:
Critical Notices: The Photographic Tourist. London: F. J. Cox.
The facts connected with photographic manipulations are few; and most writers who profess to treat of this or that process, describe it in a set form of words, very much resembling the style of a recipe in a cookery book; only, instead of beginning, “first catch your hare,” it runs, “first clean your plate,” the importance of which operation is enforced in such very emphatic language, as to fill the soul of the young photographer with affright. We admit that there is one advantage attending this concise, not to say abrupt, method of treating the subject, which is, that a young photographer may get the whole thing off by rote, and may go through the manipulations in a systematic manner, even if he can give no reasons for the results produced.
In the book before us, the title of which is “The Photographic Tourist,” we have a work of very comprehensive character. It commences with a description of the apparatus necessary for a tour, giving cuts of the various objects, beginning with the envelope, and going through the whole series, from the camera to the plate-holder, and describing the different photographic processes, from taking the picture to printing it.
1859: P News, July 29, vol. II, #47, p. 248-250:
A Photographic Trip Up The Wye.
To the Editor of “The Photographic News.”
Sir,--I would not advise any of our confreres who may visit the Wye to trust themselves with their camera in a very curious kind of boat which they will see in use there. These boats, or coracles, or truckles, as some of the people seem to call them, are made of canvas, either tarred or painted, but I think tarred, and stretched tightly over wicker-work. They are used by the fishermen and cost very little, and though they are easily damaged, if the bottom comes in contact with a piece of rock, they are just as easily mended. They furnish another instance that the progress of modern times is not always able to improve on an ancient invention, even when, as in this case, the invention is as old as the Druids. I am better able to advise photographers on the subject of using these coracles, as I myself have had practical experience of the dangers attending their use. I wanted to take a picture or two of a spot we had passed on the previous evening, and as it seemed unnecessary trouble to go back with the boat, I put my camera and a box with half-a-dozen plates prepared by the Fothergill process into a coracle and paddled down to the spot selected. I reached it without misadventure, got my negatives, and was leisurely paddling back, when I suddenly caught sight of a piece of rock in the stream just ahead of my cockleshell. I made a hasty movement to avoid it, and succeeded; but in avoiding Scylla I tumbled into Charybdis; the fragile vessel turned over and took in a quantity of water, and it was more a chance, I believe, than anything else, that I saved it from going over altogether and spilling me in the bargain. As it was, I only lost the results of my labours, for the plate box being in the bottom of the coracle, got filled with water. Luckily my camera escaped, because having been told that I should probably make a hole in the bottom of my conveyance, I passed the tripod through the handle and placed it across the machine, so that the camera was suspended, and consequently escaped a wetting.
The river, from Monmouth upwards, offers many charming scenes for the photographer, who may multiply the number of his negatives to almost any extent he pleases. By the time I reached New Weir I had added fourteen to those I had up to the time of my leaving Monmouth. The scenery along this part of the river may well be termed grand. Great fragments of the cliff jut out in all kinds of fantastic shapes, and lie at the foot in great rough pieces. The cliffs are very steep, and every now and then you see the gaping mouth of a cavern, into which the light penetrates to so slight an extent as to make it very difficult to get a good negative of the spot in which it occurs. There are lots of legends attached to these caves in which King Arthur and his knights figure, and how there was once a man who entered the cave in which this king and his knights were enchanted, and was rewarded for his boldness with a bagful of gold—and how the spirit who guarded this cavern raised a barrier which has always since that time prevented inquisitive mortal who have tried to find the entrance from succeeding. Some parts of the river are so thickly overhung by trees as to make it difficult to get a picture, and I have had to expose on some occasions as much as twenty minutes when working with the dry process, though this process was Fothergill’s, which I consider to be by far the most sensitive of all the dry processes.
On reaching the New Weir, we left the boat and spent a couple of days in making excursions in the neighbourhood—a proceeding I would recommend to any photographer who may decide on following the same route. There are many very pretty scenes in the neighbourhood, and one of the spot which I took, but forgot to mention, and that is the “Fall,” which is really a very pretty picture. At least, two very good negatives may be got of “Symond’s Yat,” a hill, probably about a thousand feet high; and even if one does not feel disposed to take a picture, it is worth while walking up it for the sake of the view it commands: on one hand the Forest of Dean extends for a long distance, the dense and varied green of the foliage, marked here and there by the spire of a village church, and the light blue smoke curling upwards from a village which is hidden from the eye, adding to the beauty of the scene, and breaking what might otherwise seem the monotonous succession of trees which pass under the eye before it reaches the beautiful country beyond, and which they tell me comprises a portion of three counties. Following the windings of the Wye, the eye encounters scenery of the loveliest description, dotted here and there by objects which add to its interest. One of these objects which attracts attention most strongly is Goodrich Castle, about a mile distant in reality, but supposing the eye to have followed the river, it has passed over a distance of six, or, as some say, seven miles. The view in this direction is bounded by the Welsh mountains, and this, perhaps, is the view which will most delight the photographers, especially if he be a London photographer, whose business confines him to that city during a great part of the year. After I had spent all the time I had to spare in admiring the various views that are offered from this hill, we descend and took our way across the meadows to Goodrich Castle.
The castle is a fine ruin; I think the finest I ever saw. It must have been a splendid pile before it was dismantled; even now one can see that it possessed all the appurtenances of the old feudal castles, and was duly defended by barbicans, ballium, and other outworks, which must have made it a place of great strength. When it was erected I am not aware, but there is no doubt as to its great age, nor any as to the solidity of the walls. Besides one large negative of the general appearance of the ruins, I took three stereoscopic pictures, and, but for an unfortunate piece of forgetfulness, which I greatly regret, I should have taken some others: this forgetfulness had reference to the plates. On taking out the plates I had used from the box, on the previous evening, I forgot to replace them by others, and had started under the impression that the box was filled as usual. I have additional reason for regretting this, as it prevented me from taking negatives of a place which is even more beautiful as a picture than that just referred to—I mean Goodrich Court, a building which is in the exact style of a castle of six centuries ago. Its bartizans and tall conical spires, and battlemented turrets, give it a most picturesque appearance when regarded at a short distance, so as to bring the detached flag tower and other buildings into the view. Its position being on a promontory overhanging the river, not only renders it visible at a great distance, but gives it very much of the appearance we notice in some of the castles on the Rhine. To approach the Court you have to cross a drawbridge, and go through a gate defended by a portcullis and round towers. The inside of the building, at least of that part which is not entirely devoted to domestic arrangements, is quite in the style of the old feudal castle. Most of your readers are, doubtless, aware that Goodrich Court is famed for its collection of ancient armour, made by the late Sir Samuel Meyrick, who likewise built the Court; and with great thoughtfulness for the comfort of travelers, for which I, as a wondering photographer, feel grateful, a very nice little inn in the adjacent village, which he named “The Hostelrie,” which was to be an exact imitation of an old-fashioned English hostel. There is one point, however, in which this as well as other inns near the Wye differ from the inns of old, and this is in the matter of prices. I don’t mean to say they are exorbitant, but I think they might be reduced with advantage to the innkeepers, and certainly with advantage to the photographer.
From the Court we went, after a short rest, to Ross by a path alongside the river, which, though the longest way, I would recommend any of your readers to follow it, as it offers scenes far superior in beauty to the shorter route which you may reach by means of the ferry. The difficulty I experienced here was not in finding good views, for there was hardly a yard which did not offer a temptation to fix the camera. Unfortunately, I was unable to gratify my desire in this respect from the accident I have mentioned. The river here is broad, and winds along in the most picturesque manner. On the left, back are meadows, which present a beautiful contrast to the lofty hill on the opposite bank, on which Goodrich Court is built, and the sides of which are covered with trees. I think I never in my life saw a view which would make a better photograph, especially if one could use the plano-panoramic camera of Garella, respecting which so much was said in Paris some two or three years ago, and which I presume succeeded no better than one which I made myself at considerable cost, and what was worse, loss of time. I don’t wish you to understand that I invented the plan of this camera; I simply followed the description given in the Bulletin of the French Photographic Society, and so, I think, made certain improvements in it, but without getting it to work well. Still, I think something may be done in this direction, and as soon as the weather ceases to be favourable to out-door operations, I shall resume my experiments. To return to my trip. The extreme beauty of the scenery made me regret so much my forgetfulness of the morning, that the pleasure I should otherwise have felt in my walk was considerably diminished, and I reached Ross in a rather discontented mood. Associated with Ross is an individual whose photograph would be viewed with interest wherever our language is read: I need scarcely say I allude to the “Man Of Ross.” There is hardly an object in the town which is thought worth looking at which is not associated with him in some way or other. In the church, no very striking object in itself, it is the pew in which he sat, his monument with an inscription and his bust; the spire of the church itself, if we may believe the poem, being a more conspicuous monument to his memory than that which bears the inscription. The terrace outside the church, called “the Prospect,” was made by him also, and deserves the name much better than the majority of places that bear a similar denomination, for the view from it is both extensive and beautiful. Of his house I took a negative the following morning before leaving , the man having brought my plates up the previous evening. The inhabitants of the place seem thoroughly proud of the man whose good deeds have been immortalised by Pope, and whose reputation has conferred a similar immortality on the place in which he spent his meritorious life.
On leaving Ross, and continuing, his way along the river, the photographer will find nothing to induce him to unpack his apparatus for some seven or eight miles; but after we had passed this distance, we came upon a succession of views, which speedily absorbed my stock of plates. Pretty little islets occurred here and there, and a sufficiently shallow spot was soon found in the bed of the river, on which to pitch the camera. There is no comparison in point of beauty, in my opinion, between my negatives taken in this position, with the river flowing along on each side of it, and one taken from the bank, such as I have frequently seen; more especially is this greater beauty observable in the case of the stereoscopic picture which I sent you, with that referred to in my last communication. Besides these views, there are others of a different character. Every now and then, there occurs a break in the trees which line the bank, and you get a lovely view of the hills beyond. So delightful is this part, that you regret your arrival at the end of your day’s journey. There is a rough-looking hill, which was pointed out to us by the boatman, which rises quite close to the spot where the river Lug joins the Wye, respecting which Camden says: “Near the confluence of the Lug and the Wye, a hill, which they call Marclay Hill, did, in the year 1575, rouse itself out of sleep, and for three days together, showing its prodigious body with a horrible roaring noise, and overturning everything in its way, raised itself (to the great astonishment of the beholders) to a higher place.” Unfortunately, the appearance of this hill was not sufficiently attractive to tempt me to bring away a likeness of it, notwithstanding the strange fact recorded respecting it. The old city of Hereford contains objects which may form interesting pictures on some future occasion; but my stock of negatives had accumulated so largely by the time I reached there, that I only took two of the Cathedral and one of the Town-hall, which exhausted my stock of plates. The remainder of my trip, which did not end at Hereford, I made as a pedestrian, leaving my camera and et ceteras behind me; and though it might be interesting to photographers to know what objects offered themselves for the camera during the rest of my journey, I am warned by the length of my letter not to trespass farther on your space. I should like, however, before concluding, to add a word on the subject of a collodion, the formula for which was published in the “Photographic News” a few months back. The formula I allude to is that of M. Mayall, and being, of course, aware of his reputation as a photographer, I thought a collodion recommended by him in such strong terms, must necessarily be a good one, and at the expense of some inconvenience as well as loss of time, I prepared some, not a large quantity, but sufficient to test its qualities. The result, I am sorry to say, did not answer my expectations; there was a want of vigour and cleanliness in the details of the picture, so that, after failing with half-a-dozen, I threw the remainder of it away. It is possible I may not have prepared the collodion as well as M. Mayall himself would have done it; indeed, my private opinion is, that it is a mistake for amateurs to attempt to make collodion at all, and I merely mention this fact in the hope that it may induce some others who have tried it to publish the result, as I cannot but think, in spite of my own failure, that it must be good, or a photographer of M. Mayall’s reputation would not have recommended it.—Yours obediently, R.A.W.
1859: P News, Aug. 5, vol. II, #48, p. 261:
Pho-topography.
To the Editor of the “Photographic News.”
Sir,--With all diffidence, I venture to suggest that you should acknowledge the receipt of such letters on the above subject as you may receive, and promise us a compact list of the more choice localities; and your readers will listen to the accounts of the rambles of their piscatorial friends—
By the Roding from Chipping Ongar to Barking Creek.
By the Lea from Brockett’s Hall to Blackwall, Broxbourne Weir, &c., &c.
By the Bent from Hendon to Brentford.
By the Colne from St. Albans to Staines.
By the Thames at Marlow Bridge, Cliefden, Magna Charta Isle, &c., &c.
By the Mole, on whose banks as the exhibitions show, many nature-loving photographers have been, not uselessly, tempted to linger.
By the Wandle from Croydon to Wandsworth, which supplies more mills, for its length, than any other river.
By the Darent from Westerham to Dartford.
By the Crouch from Orpington to Crouch.
It would be well for photographers to go without their camera to a few of the better known localities, and make their own observations and inquiries. Little can be done after noon; and it would be better—the weather being likely to be favourable, and they somewhat acquainted with the localities—to journey down in the evening, and rise very early. But few places are without early conveyance to London.
Those seeking to photograph plants, should have just a smattering of botany and geology. Beeches and truffles are over chalk; the tusilago on clay (of these many beautiful photographs have been exhibited). Osmunda regalis (a fern) is found on the banks of the Dee, 11 ½ feet (S. Mu8rray[‘s British Flora). Felix was, at Hestercomb, near Taunton, so large, that if a grenadier, with cap on, could be carefully let down into the vegetable vase, he would be a formidable vasculum for specimen, but a small camera for faithful representation.
They might look into various books for accounts of old ruins, as Mr. C. Knight’s works; Watson’s New Botanist Guide for likely places to find the more rare plants; in many works on geology for cliffs, quarries, &c. Viator.
1859: P News, Aug. 12, vol. II, #49, p. 273-274:
Photography in the Isle of Thanet.
To the Editor of the “Photographic News.”
Sir,--As I promised to send you a second communication from this place, I avail myself of the opportunities which a day devoted to printing gives me to fulfil my promise. The weather generally since I last wrote has been so favourable that I have had abundant opportunities of testing the relative merits of the collodio-albumen and the Fothergill processes, and I have been working with them indifferently, with varying results. On the whole, however, the balance is in favour of the collodio-albumen. There is a greater amount of depth and intensity in the negatives taken by this process, which compensates for the additional trouble in preparing the plates.
I rather think the publication of my last communication to you may have had the effect of sending some photographers down into this part, for I have seen several cameras in the course of my wanderings about here since, at least one of which has gone the way which neither its maker nor its owner anticipated. I was walking from Margate towards Broadstairs, when I saw a photographer who had planted his camera on the edge of the cliff at Kingsgate, with the object of taking a view of the opposite side of the inlet. The day was very dull and cool, so that I had left my apparatus at home, having no desire to run the risk of getting spoiled negatives, which is the pretty certain result of working with the dry process on such a day; therefore I was quite at leisure to enter into a conversation with him. He told me he had taken a picture of the castle, which, because it was built in an antique style, he imagined must be an ancient place, and talked of getting permission to visit its dungeons, and so forth. I have just finished telling him the story of the old lady who made a similar mistake to his own, and the Margate boatman; how the old lady had burst into raptures at the sight of the castle, and poured a volume of romantic rhapsody into the ears of the unsympathising boatman, and concluded by asking him “How many hundred years old is it?” to which the Charon replied, “Lord, mum, ‘taint much older than yourself, for my father helped to build it”—an answer which surprised the old lady in more ways than one.
While I was telling him this he had been holding his watch in his hand, and was in a perfect state of confusion as to what would be the proper amount of exposure. “Half a minute won’t be enough on a day like this,” he muttered to himself; “I’ll give it fifteen seconds more. It is very dull—I may as well let it stay in the minute. They say it is better to over-expose than under-expose--it shall stay in fifteen seconds longer.” He was even then in doubt whether it would not be better to let it remain a little longer, when a circumstance occurred which proved beyond the question that the exposure had been already too prolonged. He was watching the progress of the hands of his watch, and I was in the act of looking for some stones to exercise my arm by jerking them down on the beech, [sic] when I heard a rather loud hollow sound, and looking round I found that the camera had disappeared. It had been planted on the very edge of the cliff, and I have not the least doubt was knocked off with a stone. At all events, when we got down on the beech, we found the camera with one of its sides knocked out by striking against the cliff, and the plate lying in a little pool of sea-water, having buried beneath it an unfortunate little crab, who, in his feeble endeavours to release himself, covered the film with a series of convoluted lines which it would have puzzled even you to account for, if you had been requested to do so by an inquiring correspondent. The worst part of the affair, as regarded pecuniary loss, was from the fact that the concussion had cracked the lens half-way across. Who threw the stone he could not find out. There were a couple of strangers on the cliff at a little distance, but both of them declared that they had thrown no stone, so the unfortunate proprietor of the damaged apparatus had to bear his loss in the best way he could.
In my last letter I alluded to the objects of interest offered by the Isle of Thanet to photographers; and if it is not trespassing too much on your space, I will add a little more to the information I have already given your readers on this point. Among other places, well worth a visit to the photographer, is Minster. This village contains several picturesque cottages, old gable-ended buildings, such as are rapidly crumbling away throughout the land, and which, if for that reason alone, it is advisable should be pictorially recorded by the agency of photography. Buildings like these are best suited for stereoscopic pictures, and all that I took in the village were for the stereoscope. The church is worth taking, both externally and internally, not on account of its surpassing beauty, but from the fact that it is believed to be the oldest church in England, with one exception. It was built by the monks, who formerly had a monastery attached to it, and though it has been a good deal dilapidated by over-zealous individuals, in comparatively recent times, very much has been done in the way of restoring it to its pristine condition within the last few years. Those who may visit this place, and even those who may not, will feel some interest in knowing that the monastery to which it was attached was founded so long ago as A.D. 670. The church was partly burnt down by the Danes, and the nuns scattered about the country, but was subsequently re-built by King Canute, on his return from his pilgrimage to Rome. I believe that if it were generally known that it was in the island in which this church is situate that the first Christian missionaries landed, and that it was from this spot that the Christian religion spread like a wave over the whole of England, much more interest would be felt in visiting it, and in obtaining pictures of objects which have so many interesting associations. We get enthusiastic over a bit of ground where a battle was fought between the Greeks and Romans, but we have no enthusiasm or regard for the scene of an occurrence so commonplace as a battle between the ancient Britons and the Romans. Nearly every part of the Isle of Thanet has been the scene of conflicts between Britons and Romans, and Saxons and Danes; and although I would not expose a plate for the mere sake of getting a picture of an otherwise uninteresting spot, simply because a mound of earth or the remains of a fortification denote that it was once the scene of a bloody battle, yet I find it adds very much to the interest with which a picture of a picturesque farmhouse is regarded, when I am able to point out, in a corner of the print, a mound or fragment of a building, and tell the traditions attached to it. I have not traveled very much in England, but as far as my experience goes there is no country which possesses more interesting subjects of this kind than that from which I date this letter; and I think if this were generally known, many of our London brethren, who now think that good pictures cannot be taken anywhere this side of the Lakes of Cumberland and Westmoreland, or North Wales, would have a desire to visit this part instead, to the great saving of their time and money. For my own part, I am extremely pleased with my visit, which has not been confined entirely to the island itself, but has extended over other parts of Kent, respecting which I may have something to say on a future occasion. E. B., Broadstairs.
1859: P News, Aug. 12, vol. II, #49, p. 274:
Miscellaneous: [not all transcribed]
Photography in Russia.—The late inauguration of the bronze equestrian statue of the Emperor Nicholas, situated as it is in one of the magnificent squares of St. Petersburg, formed by the huge Isaac church and other large buildings, has been a matter of great interest throughout Europe. The statue has been made after the design of Baron Klodt, and has cost 750,000 silver rubles. This festival act has been photographed by M. Riochebourg, and a print thereof has appeared in the Paris Illustration.
1859: P News, Aug. 19, vol. II, #50, p. 280-281:
Australian Nature—and the Art of the Photographer.* (*Continued from vol. ii p. 246)
Thinking as we do, that photography will be also of especial advantage to descriptive (systematic) natural history, a use yet hardly attempted, we shall apply this axiom first to our present subject. It was Professor Lichtenstein, of Berlin, we think, who, in his travels in the Cape, first gave an engraving of a group of ostriches roaming in the deserts of that country—a sight most characteristic, and as well executed as it could be, except by a first-rate artist, or by the aid of photography. For who else can imitate that originality of nature in all its productions, that great type and character which pervade all works of creation? And, then, men like Redouté, or Francis Bauer, or Audubon, are scarce, as it pays better to paint some unmeaning pageant, than the grandeur and sublimity of nature.
Having mentioned the last-named gentleman (an American, but who had been in England), we have arrived at the ne plus ultra of the painters of nature. Speaking from memory, we should say that some of his plates of American birds must be nearly 40 inches long—and of such there are several volumes—and still, this stupendous work appeared merely supported by subscriptions of private individuals in America and in England. It is touching to read, as Mr. Audubon states in his preface, how, travelling in some place or other of the backwoods of America, he obtained—a subscriber! As photographic plates are even now attainable up to the size of 36 inches square, there is scope for more Audubons, and at less expense. Moreover, we have to consider that there is an extensive movement going on for popular instruction and recreation; rich people seem to die only for the purpose of leaving immense sums for popular establishments; museums, town-halls, crystal palaces, botanical gardens are springing up everywhere. And all these places have, at least, their entrance halls, corridors, &c., the walls of which are to be adorned by all that is worthy, fair, and pleasing.
Returning once more to purely Australian subjects, we may remark, that it is the aboriginal men of that country who first arrest our attention—the South-Sea negro, the Papuan. They stand at the confines of animality, as they are found living in pairs under the rock shelves near Lake Macquarrie. We do not believe that there exists one adequate delineation of this race, of which certain types, belonging to certain localities, are dying out. But here an especial law comes into operation, namely:--not to represent scenes from nature taken at random, but subjects selected with tact and judgment. The Australian aborigines are, perhaps, the most varied and changing of any race we know—they range from the stately, erect, plump, and strong, to the very prototype of a living and walking skeleton. Here, as in most cases, the artist must become a student, and make such a selection as will represent either the Papuan of one or the other district, or a general type of the whole race, so far as accessible to the travelling artist. But in the delineation (reproduction) of the naked or half naked races of men, nothing but heliography will yield any satisfactory result; and it might seem that the bard of Avon had something analogous in view, in writing that splendid and world-known line—
“To hold, as ‘twere, the mirror up to Nature.”
It is only heliography which will ever produce plates in which the exact proportions of the osseous and muscular parts, the tension or relaxation of the skin, the gloss of the body, and the whole gait (portamento) will appear in a manner to afford instruction to the anatomist and ethnographer. By such pictures, also (we mean large plates), the physiognomy of the different tribes of men will be best illustrated, and that axiom be made apparent, that humanity is everywhere fair and handsome.
Passing from man to the higher animals (mammals) we may state that huge whales inhabit the shores of the Australian continent, which, perhaps, the camera may seize whilst roaming on the surface of the ocean; at any rate when, still half alive, they are stranded, even near Sydney Head, of a length of 70 feet. And thus it may be truly said of photography, that we hardly stand at the threshold of its destinies and accomplishments. Seals, also, of great variety (Otaria Perr.) are to be met with on the rocks bounding the sea, and add to the picturesque appearance of the scenery. Of quadrupeds, properly speaking, Australia has none very large, at least not to be compared with the giants of Asia or Africa. Still, the kangaroo is an exceedingly interesting animal, not to be met with except in New Holland. If we distinguish mammals into quadrupeds and bimana, the kangaroo may be called a triporous animal, as its immense tail, from 4 to 5 feet long, and of immense strength, serves it as a support in its immense jumps, its fore legs being quite small, and, as it were, rudimentary. Nothing can be imagined more sylvan and characteristic of the country, than to see a flock of such animals in some secluded glen of their wild forests, the biggest (called the old man) taking the lead, with ears erect, listening to every noise, even that of a falling leaf. Still, they are not over-shy when approached under the wind, and some fine views may be thus secured by the camera. These animals are so popular here, that they, together with the emu (ostrich), have been made the shieldholders of the coats of arms of the province of New South Wales. Of other quadrupeds, there are hardly any in Australia which would claim the attention of the nature-painter or heliographer in a general point of view.
It is different with the feathered tribe—and it is wonderful to reflect on the diversity of hue and colour some of them exhibit. Finding a take of them lying on the ground, one might fancy them a heap of flowers. The Australian parrot tribe does not comprehend specimens so large as the South American Aras; still the black cockatoo, a bird of most grim and lugubrious aspect, and the white and yellow-crested, are of sufficient size to ornament any landscape into which they, especially in large numbers, should be introduced. We have seen, some years ago, a splendid water-colour sketch of a large group of Australian Psittacinæ, made on the spot by Ferdinand Bauer, painter to the Flingers-Brown Expedition, but it has since disappeared under the bane of jobbing in everything, even the highest art works. Although “Gould’s Birds of Australia” contain some beautiful plates, yet there is numberless scope left for the collodion process to depict these birds in their natural, wild haunts, surrounded by their native, bizarre localities and scenery. The foregoing observations apply similarly to the two species of ostriches inhabiting Australia, the emu and the cassowary. Depicted as they roam, horselike and proud, over the vast plains of land, they will be also an object of great interest. But the finest bird in the world is probably the Australiasn Menura superba, of the family of the Gallinaceæ, with his tail resembling a huge lyre of Apollo. He is to be found in the glens and gulleys of the wild Blue Mountains west of Sydney—flying and flapping through this primeval thicket! WE conclude this notice with the hope that we have stated some facts, as to how the new art can be worthily employed in the new country.
1859: P News, Aug. 19, vol. II, #50, p. 284-285:
The Isle of Wight from a Photographic Point of View.
To the Editor of the “Photographic News.”
Sir,--If your correspondent in the Isle of Thanet had visited the Isle of Wight, he would have been aware that they are view in this island which are as much superior to anything that can be seen in the locality with which he seems so much delighted, as they are more numerous. I have been now staying here for some weeks, and can therefore speak with some authority as to the advantages offered by the Isle of Wight to photographers, especially to those whose absence from London, or any other town, can only be for a limited period; and for the benefit of those, and the gratification of the desire which I, in common with many other amateurs, entertain to see myself in print, I beg to send you some account of what I have seen and done.
Before commencing, I may as well mention that I worked only with the dry process (Fothergill’s), using sometimes a large plate, 13 x 12, and at other times a small stereoscopic camera, according to circumstances. The results I have obtained by using this process are very satisfactory; so much so, that I have no inclination to try another, not even the much-vaunted collodio-albumen. From the fact of my not having tried the latter process I preclude myself from giving an opinion of their comparative merits, but if the collodio-albumen process could give results equal to those I have obtained by Fothergill’s, I think few who tried it would be likely to return to the wet collodion, with all its paraphernalia of tent and so forth.
The very small cost at which the Isle of Wight can be visited makes up to some extent for the high charges of the hotel keepers, who, in consequence of the large influx of visitors within the last few weeks, must have acquired rather an overweening estimate of the value of the accommodation they can give. On the day I arrived at Ryde I was assured that there was not a bed to be had in the whole town, and that only a few nights before strangers had been glad to take up their lodging in bathing machines, and even then a considerable number were wandering about the town all night. To avoid the risk of encountering this hardship in my own particular case I had my luggage placed on a coach going to Sandown, a beautiful place about six miles from Ryde, the road to it being through a most picturesque country, offering every variety of landscape scenery. On one side may be seen gently-rising hills and little valleys covered with waving corn, the purple-flowered clover or dark-green oats, spreading away for miles; while, on the other hand, hundreds of acres of perfectly flat, but by no means unprofitable, grazing land, interspersed with clumps of trees, and thickly dotted with cattle, which the richness of the pasture speedily brings to a condition which renders their continued existence unnecessary. Fortunately, the coach by which I rode belonged to the proprietor of the King’s Head Hotel, at Sandown, and I was therefore driven to this house, which otherwise I should not, in all probability, have stayed at, from the fact of its not being very visible from the road, in consequence of its superior situation on the beach itself, which makes it likely to be overlooked by a casual visitor to the place, who is always apt to judge of the quality of an hotel by its outward appearance—a most deceitful criterion, as all experienced travelers know. Well, I was fortunate enough to obtain a room in this hotel which looked out upon one of the most beautiful bays in the kingdom. To the left, about three miles distant, the Culver Cliffs, the highest of which is over 400 feet high, rose from the sea with a boldness which astonishes the weak nerves of the writers of the guide books; while about the same distance to the right the view was terminated by the high hills—so high that I have seen the clouds strike against them and come rolling over their tops—which mark the situation of Shanklin Chine, of which I shall have more to say presently. Standing on the lawn in front of the hotel the eye was able to discern all the hollows of the cliff, and the cottages so snugly sheltered in the nooks, but which excite uncomfortable apprehensions in the minds of strangers as to the possible consequences to the inhabitants in the event of a portion of the cliff above them breaking away. Whenever M. Porro perfects his lens so as to enable me to take a picture of so great an extent at one operation I will return to the island, if it were only to bring away a view of this lovely bay.
The first negative I took after my arrival was one of Shanklin Chine—the great curiosity of the island. It is simply a cleft in the land, with its widest part towards the sea, and narrowing upwards to the end, where the so-called waterfall trickles over the cliff. This waterfall is a delusion, and those who conceive an image of it in their minds from the picture given of it in those exaggerated publication to which I have already referred, will be disappointed, as the volume of water which falls under ordinary circumstances is about equal to what would fall from the cistern of a shower-bath if seven-tenths of its holes were stopped up. Of course, after a very heavy shower, the volume is increased for a short time, as was the case a few Sundays ago, when, after an exceedingly heavy storm, it rose above the lower rail of the fence which is placed at the head of the Chine to prevent people from tumbling over, and which I imagine to be quite two feet high, so that it became quite a respectable waterfall. While operating in this place I noticed a circumstance which is an additional proof to my mind that the presence of a certain degree of humidity in the atmosphere, combined with heat, renders the action of the chemical rays far more energetic than merely clear, bright sunshine. I exposed a plate at the lower part of the Chine shortly before noon, when the sun’s rays must have fallen almost perpendicularly into it. (By the way, though, it is necessary I should first describe the appearance of the Chine, in order that your readers may comprehend better the conditions under which I operated.) The height of the cliff at the point I entered is about one hundred feet, and the width of the opening at the top is, perhaps, fifty feet more, the bottom being very narrow as one penetrates farther in. The sides are covered with underwood and trees, which grow vigorously, their branches meeting at the top so closely that their leaves almost shut out the light. Well, I exposed a plate at the time I stated, and considering the fact that the day was intensely hot, and that the soalr rays must have penetrated to almost every part of the Chine, I thought an exposure of ten minutes would e ample—in fact, would rather overdo it; but, to my disappointment, I found that scarcely a trace of an image was visible on developing the plate. The next time I exposed a plate prepared at the same time as the preceding one, and, of course, of precisely identical qualities, but the period at which I exposed it was between three and four o’clock in the afternoon. I suppose it was natural that, having found an exposure of ten minutes at noon-day insufficient, I should prolong the exposure on this occasion; but having once formed an opinion I do not like to change it after a single trial, so I repeated the exposure for the same length of time. On developing I found the picture all but perfect; there was, it is true, a slight want of sharpness in the underwood, but not to an extent which injured the general appearance of the negative. I subsequently took another negative of a portion of the Chine, placing my camera immediately above the waterfall, the hour being the same, the length of exposure being increased one minute, and with an equally satisfactory result. The only explanation I can give of the superior activity of the chemical rays at this hour is, that the temperature of the humid atmosphere of the Chine had been raised by the prolonged action of the solar rays; otherwise, the amount of light present was greater in the first instance than in the subsequent ones. Other and similar causes have almost convinced me that much of the uncertainty which attends photographic operations is, in reality, to be ascribed to the varying conditions of the atmosphere rather than to faults in the collodion or other chemicals employed, as is most commonly done.
Quitting Shanklin Chine, but not before offering a small present to a dignified, not to say sullen, young lady, who acts as Cerberus, I went on to Luccombe Chine, which is about a mile farther on, and, though less imposing than the former place, is still very pretty, and well worthy the trouble of taking a negative. Moreover, there are two or three points on the coast which give very good pictures, very much resembling some of Mr. Gutch’s interesting photographs of geological formations. From Luccombe to Black Gang Chine is about seven miles, and along here is what is termed the Undercliff, well known, doubtless, to your readers from engravings, which, however, fail to convey anything like an idea of what it is really like, to those who have never actually seen it. In some parts it is scarcely a quarter of a mile in width, in others it is about a mile, and has been formed by the separation of this portion of the cliff from the mainland. Whether the same process is going on now I cannot say, but similar slips have occurred at recent periods. The greatest slip of the kind I heard of was one which occurred at Niton some years back, when the ground, for a considerable distance, was in motion towards the sea, and, after progressing some distance, fell forward and broke to pieces, when the motion ceased, but the ground was left full of inequalities and large holes, capable, as an old woman told me, who was about fourteen years old when it happened, of swallowing up a hay-rick, if it had come that way. At present, these inequalities are by no means unpleasing to the eye, covered as they are with grass and wild flowers in profusion. From Luccombe, all the way to Black Gang, the photographer feels himself in the position of the girl of the eastern story, who was directed to choose a husband by walking through a corn-field and selecting the ear which pleased her best. He sees so many beautiful views that, conscious of his inability to take them all, he becomes fastidious, and goes on from one to another expecting every minute to see something better, and arrives, eventually, at the end without having taken half the number of negatives he would have liked. The plan I pursued was, to stop a day at one place and a day at another, and make excursions to the places of interest in the neighbourhood, rarely, however, taking more than three plates in one day, which I developed the same night. Perhaps the prettiest place of any along the Undercliff is Bonchurch. The village itself is not very large, though, I believe, it is gradually increasing in size, as, indeed, are most of the towns and villages in the Isle of Wight; but its situation is most delightful. Fine trees, covered with the most luxuriant foliage, abound; and behind it, and rising far above it, is Boniface Down, from which views of great beauty and extent may be obtained. There is one great advantage for the photographer in this island, which is, that the views suited for his purpose are so numerous that the chances of another photographer taking a negative from the same point of view as himself are very small; always excepting show places, such as Shanklin Chine, or certain of the churches, of which I shall speak presently; so that though I have seven negatives of scenes in and about Bonchurch, I am not in the least afraid of anybody else producing a print precisely similar; a most disagreeable circumstance when it occurs, as rendering one or other of the parties liable to be suspected of copying a print belonging to a confrère.—Yours obediently, Iota
1859: P News, Aug. 19, vol. II, #50, p. 294-296:
The Isle of Wight from a Photographic Point of View.
To the Editor of the “Photographic News.”
Sir,--As regards Ventnor itself, there is little for the photographer to do in it; but round about it there are many scenes of great beauty calculated to make admirable pictures. If it had been possible to have planted my camera at a sufficient distance right in front of the town, so as to have obtained a negative of the town itself, with the high hills at its back, I should have secured a picture superior to anything of a similar description I ever saw; and this would apply still more strongly to Bonchurch, but the difficulty of getting a sufficiently stable base for the camera on the sea rendered it an impossibility. I should imagine that out-door photographic operations might be continued here much alter than in almost any other part of England, from the greater mildness of the temperature consequent on its sheltered situation. In the gardens may be seen the myrtle, and other tender plants, which survive in the open air all the year round; and it is this mildness of the temperature which has led to its being chosen as the winter abode of young and suffering invalids, many of whom have found a resting-place here from which they will never depart. By going along the beach from Ventnor to Niton, many curious and pretty views can be obtained, which I value chiefly, however, on account of their uncommon nature; but the journey which I subsequently made from Niton to Ventnor along the highway gave me the most opportunities for getting pictures which were more attractive to the generality of the people. Occasionally, it was a fine house, almost buried amidst the foliage of the surrounding trees; then a cottage, which, with the accessories surrounding it, gave a most delightful picture, and this was hardly passed before I came to a landscape diversified by hedges, trees, and cattle lying about beneath their shade, to screen themselves from the burning rays of the sun. It was while taking a picture of a cottage along this road, that I met with a circumstance which showed me in an unpleasant manner the difference in the energy of rays reflected from objects of one colour, from the energy of rays reflected by objects of another. I had selected a picture of pretty thatched cottage, partly hidden by the leaves of an apple or pear-tree, and having on one side of it a field of clover, in bloom, and on the other a small patch of what the woman called “chorlick.” I am not strong in botany, and therefore cannot give your readers the scientific name of this plant; but it is a plant covered with brilliant yellow flowers, and showing scarcely any leaf. I exposed a plate, prepared by Fothergill’s process, for the length of time which experience had taught me to be necessary on such a day and hour, and never doubted that I had been as successful as usual; but, on developing I found that the negative was useless, in consequence of the parts of the plate on which the chorlick ought to have imprinted itself being almost entirely blank. Whereas, the remaining portion was even more than usually good.
Niton is a pretty little village, which, like most other places in the Isle of Wight, is gradually extending itself. There was no object in the place which I thought worth taking beside the Sandrock Hotel, which is a very pretty building on the Undercliff, and the church, which is very picturesquely situated, and, apparently, is one of very old standing—almost as old as the family of the Hoglanders, who are said to have come to the island in the time of William the Conqueror. Though I could obtain no very striking pictures of objects in Niton itself, yet the country round offered many scenes of great beauty, many more than I, with the best will in the world, could afford to take just at that time, owing to the rapid manner in which the number of my plates was diminishing; not that there was any difficulty in getting a fresh supply sent to me, but that took time, and I could not wait at Niton until they arrived. There was one place I visited from here, and which I would recommend any of your readers who may follow in my footsteps to visit, and this was St. Catherine’s Hill. It is rather toilsome work to reach the summit on a hot day, it being more than 800 feet above the level of the sea, but the view from it amply repays the fatigue. Not only can you see the greater part of the island, but also the New Forest, and a great part of Hampshire, and along the coast as far as Beachy Head. I had been told that I might even get a view of the more elevated parts of the coast about Cherbourg; but though the day was very brilliant, and I carried a good glass, I did not succeed in seeing what others tell you they have seen; but I certainly did get a view which I think it would be difficult to meet with in any other part of the United Kingdom. As I sat there, looking sometimes at the hill and dale, which extended for miles, and then at the bright green flashing sea covered with sails, I almost fancied I could hear in the wind—which was lowing strongly there, although not a breath of air was perceptible when I left Niton—the sound of the voice of the monk chanting, who is said to have formerly lived in a chapel erected here some 600 years ago, and whose duty it was to keep lights burning as a beacon to the ships—a purpose it must have accomplished in a very indifferent manner, if the climate of England were then what it is now, as the hill on which it stood is frequently enveloped in mists and fogs; so frequently, indeed, that, to make a lighthouse on that part of the coast of use, it has been thought advisable to erect it on a point of land much lower down. The man who lives in it is anything but indifferent to the sight of his fellow-creatures. I happened one day to be examining the lighthouse at the moment when a steamer, full of people, was coming along very close to the shore, and I could see him pull aside the blind to look out, and wave his hand vigorously to attract the attention of those on board.
From here, along the coast, there was not much to attract attention, until I reached a point called Rocken End. This is a long ledge of rocks which stretch far into the sea, and are almost covered at high water, the tide breaking against them with great force, especially when aided by a high wind. It so happened that the tide was just beginning to flow when we got there, so that I was able to get two negatives from different points of view before the sea had risen too high. I would advise those who can choose their own time for visiting this part to do so when the tide is running in, the roaring of the water among the rocks being very impressive. From this point, until I reached Black Gang Chine, I saw few views I considered suited for the camera; at the latter place, however, I was delighted by a spectacle, the like of which is not to be found in any other part of the island. Those who remember the description of the Chine published in my letter of last week, may imagine that this resembled it, but it did not in the least. The sides of Shanklin Chine were clothed in verdure, whereas the whole appearance of Black Gang Chine is one of barrenness and desolation. In this, as in the other, the stream of water which falls from the top is very thin, except after a heavy storm, at which time the whole thing is seen to the greatest advantage. The colour of the sides of the chine renders the photograph as more than ordinarily faithful interpreter of the scene, as it can be toned to a colour very closely resembling the reality, and it is in other respects admirably fitted for a photograph of large size. On the night of the day on which I was there, there were some exceedingly vivid lightning, and I was fortunate enough to see it under an aspect more favourable to the enjoyment of its peculiar beauties than falls to the lot of most visitors to the place.
From Black Gang I found it necessary to go to Newport, from which town I made two excursions to Carisbrooke Castle, which is only about a mile distant. Of course I took pictures of the entrance gateway and the two round towers which formerly defended it, and also of the remains of the building which still contains the window—or rather the stonework and iron bars, for the glass has disappeared—through which King Charles is said to have tried to make his escape and stuck in the attempt. The adjoining building, said to have been the governor’s house, in which Charles was confined subsequent to his attempt, is included in the negative, but there is nothing very interesting in its appearance. It is inside this you see that travelers have indulged the mania for writing their names to its fullest extent. Every inch of the wall is covered with the names, and sometimes the addresses, of persons who have visited it, one lady from America having inscribed hers about ten times; others have added to their names a scrap of doggerel poetry like the following, written by an individual who modestly subscribes himself as the Queen’s Osborne poet:--
“Dear old Kingsland, though far from thee we roam,
Yet me and old Chapman will soon be at home.”
The inscriptions, though, which are peculiarly adapted to send as thrill of envy through the bachelor bosom, when he finds himself reading them alone and solitary on a bright sunshiny day, are those which inform all comers that Edwin and Emma Ringdove, or Edwin and Angelina Turtle, visited this place in the course of their wedding tour. Inscriptions like thee are very numerous, and would seem to prove that the Isle of Wight is a favourite resort for newly-married couples; probably from their feeling that they will be more isolated from the world in a little isla nd than they would be on the mainland.
The ruins of the keep make a very pretty picture, but the only way which I could perceive at the time by means of which it could be got at favourably, was from the upper window of a building facing it; but from what I remember of the appearance of the land surrounding the ramparts, I am inclined to think a better picture might possibly be obtained from the outside of the castle walls, which did not occur to me then. I do not think there is any other view than those I have mentioned worth taking, so the photographer, who will probably make a journey expressly from Newport, need not overburden himself with plates. He may, it is true, pay a visit to the village of Carisbrooke and take a negative of the church, which is rather a fine old building, but the interior of which is not worth the trouble of taking, more especially as it is disfigured by high pews, or boxes, of unpainted deal, or some other common wood.
I did not observe any building in Newport capable of yielding a picture which the exception of the church, and this, in the presence of so many interesting objects in the country around, is hardly worth the expenditure of a plate. As a country church it is certainly a very find one, and the inhabitants of the Isle of Wight are justly proud of it; but the great attraction it contains is a white marble statue of the Princess Elizabeth, daughter of Charles I., by Marochett, executed by order of the Queen. The expression of the youthful countenance is exceedingly gentle and pleasing, in which it agrees with the character which is given of her. She is represented in a recumbent position, with her head resting on the Bible—the position in which she was discovered after death. The sternest democrat can scarcely repress a feeling of indignation against Cromwell and his advisers for having shut up and suffered to pine to death in a prison a young and peculiarly gentle girl, whose only offence was that she was the daughter of her father. The statue would make a very pretty and interesting stereoscopic picture, and as I know I could have got permission to take a negative of it, I have no doubt that anybody, less idly disposed than I was just at that time, could do so likewise. There would be no difficulty in the score of want of light.
Not caring to remain in Newport, I took a conveyance to Mottestone, where I stopped to take a look at the church, which is a very old one, and rather picturesque in appearance, partly from its age, and partly from its having been built at different times. After this, I went on to Freshwater, where I remained for the night. The next morning I was stirring betimes, and before I breakfasted had taken four negatives, without moving any great distance, three of which included the church and other objects taken from different points of view. Finding there was nothing more worth taking, I had my traps carried down to Freshwater Gate, which is a better place to stay at than the village where I had slept, being open to the sea, and offering advantages in the shape of bathing, as well as in accommodation—considerations to which photographers are as sensible as other people. Moreover, there are several views about here which are very interesting, and among these, that of the place itself, which will furnish more than one good negative. My attempts to get a negative of some of the caverns which the washing of the sea has worn in the cliff were failures, which I ascribe to the dullness of the weather when I made the attempt. I was more successful, however, in the case of the cavern called Freshwater Cavern, which is of considerable size; the entrance being, I imagine, about 40 feet in height, and the cavern itself extending a good way into the cliff.
I also tried to get a picture of some rocks which rise from the sea at a short distance from the beach, but was not successful. The dry process is of no use as regards water in motion, and even with the wet collodion process I have never been able to get pictures of the waves at all comparable with those exhibited by you at the South Kensington Museum.
I must now conclude this second letter; and in a third I will endeavour to conclude the account of my wanderings in the Isle of Wight. Iota.
1859: P News, Sept. 9, vol. III, #53, p. 6-7:
Critical Notices.
Stereograms of Fountain’s Abbey, Kirkstall Abbey, &c. By Mr. W. Woodward, Nottingham.
Those who have seen only the ordinary stereoscopic prints exhibited in the shop windows can have no idea of the beautiful pictures that may be obtained for the stereoscope by a superior operator. We have just concluded an examination of a series of views of Fountain’s abbey, Kirkstall abbey, and York Cathedral, taken by Mr. Woodward, of Nottingham, and we do not hesitate to say that whoever has not seen these prints is ignorant of the high perfection which may be attained in the reproduction of scenes for the stereoscope. It is not merely that they are free from imperfections which we took frequently meet with in photographs, but they show, on the face of them, that they have been taken by an artist, one who is capable of distinguishing the most beautiful point of view from which to seize them, so as to produce pictures of the highest artistic merit. It is commonly said that Englishmen know more of the beauties of foreign countries than of their own, and it is probably that many who are familiar with the ruins of Rome are ignorant of the magnificent appearance presented by the ruins of Fountain’s Abbey. The series of views we have been inspecting are nine in number, no two of which can be said to resemble each other, so that some idea may be formed of the extent of these ruins from this circumstance.
About the best picture of the series, if we may describe on as better than another, is that which gives a general view of the ruins from De Grey’s walk on the south. From this point of view they present almost the appearance of a town, with the massive and lofty square tower rising in the distance, looking as if it were built but yesterday. The view from the west, however, shows that one corner of this tower has begun to decay, but the same print which informs us of this also conveys the visual information that care is being taken to preserve the ruins as much as possible from further deterioration. A tall scaffolding is raised to the summit of the west end of what was apparently the church, every detail of which is conveyed to the eye through the picture as vividly as if one were on the spot. Every plank and every pole, even the ropes which bind these together, can be distinctly seen, together with the delicate blades of the grass on the summit of the lofty wall. The perfect manner in which every gradation of tone is rendered in this print is unsurpassable.
The view of the ruins, on the south-east from De Grey’s walk, includes the old chancel; the fine windows still retain their pointed arches, though the stone above and around them has crumbled away. There is a slight difference between the two pictures in this view, as, indeed, occurs in one or two other instances, arising from the operator preferring to use a single lens camera (for which he has doubtless sufficient reason), and thus the movement of the sun shows a decided difference in the shadows, sufficient in some cases to cause an almost painful effect in one or two of the pictures. In the view of the choir and nave we have another specimen of the wonderful fidelity with which every detail is rendered; the smallest inequality in the surface caused by the breaking away of fragments is as distinctly perceptible as to the eye of an observer on the spot, every variation of light and shade being depicted with the minutest accuracy, the faint tracery of the branches of the trees upon the sky being seen through the old mullions, from which the glass has long since been removed, and adding to the charm of the picture. In the print representing the south aisle we have a long perspective of arches, perfect and entire, but the masonry which rested upon them and supported the roof has, like the roof itself, almost wholly crumbled away. The most delicate tones are given in this print, with the same clearness which characterises all the others: every blade of the grass which crowns the ruined masonry being reproduced with the same sharpness and vigour as the ruins themselves.
Our space will not permit us to dwell upon each of the pictures in succession, but we cannot refrain from observing that the view of the gateway of the Eleemosynary Chapel, as likewise that of the bridge leading to the Eleemosynary, are two of the most beautiful prints, in appearance and execution, ever submitted to our judgment.
Of York Cathedral the artist has taken only two views—one from the south, the other of the west door merely, which, if they are less picturesque than those we have been describing, are not inferior in artistic excellence.
The beauty of the stereograms of Kirkstall abbey makes us regret that Mr. Woodward only took two pictures—one of the west door, the other of the nave looking east. The latter exhibits the splendid pillars, which are slightly different from the huge Norman style, but exceedingly massive, and apparently as solid as on the day they were finished, as are the stone mullions of the windows in the highest portion of the ruins. The more closely we look into this picture the greater is the regret we feel that the artist did not avail himself more fully of the opportunity offered by the great extent of these ruins, their length, if we remember rightly, being 350 feet in one direction and 450 in the other. This abbey is said to have been built by the Earl of Lincoln, in consequence of a vow he made when suffering under a severe fit of illness, this spot being suggested by the Abbot of Fountain’s Abbey.
We need scarcely tell photographers that much of the beauty which their negatives are capable of yielding depends on the manner in which the printing is conducted, the same negative giving a beautiful print in the hands of one man, which in the hands of another appears capable of yielding a print hardly above mediocrity. The appearance of Mr. Woodward’s prints is a proof that he is one of those who possess an exceptional skill in printing; no stains or markings of any description are visible, and they are printed to the exact intensity calculated to give the most pleasing result. For this reason, it gives us much satisfaction to inform those of our readers who may desire to save themselves the trouble of printing from their own negatives, that Mr. Woodward proposes to open a printing establishment shortly, chiefly for the purpose of printing all his own pictures, but in which, we doubt not, he will be willing to print from any number of negatives sent to him.
1859: P News, Sept. 9, vol. III, #53, p. 12:
The Stereoscopic Exchange Club.
In accordance with the desire of many of our subscribers, we publish below a fresh list of those among them who are desirous of exchanging stereograms.
We have been favoured by correspondents with sundry suggestions, some of which, otherwise very excellent, would have the drawback of involving a great deal of trouble and loss of time, if adopted; while others would probably bring upon us the imputation of being actuated by personal motives, and are, therefore, impossible of adoption. There is, however, one suggestion which recent complaints induce us to think it would be advisable, in the interest of the general body of our readers, should be carried into operation. This suggestion is as follows:--That every gentleman who desires to have his name placed on the list, should send us a specimen of the different prints he proposes to exchange, in order that we may have evidence that they are not of the quality of those which were sent by at least one person of those who comprised our last list.
As this suggestion appears to us both advisable and feasible, and not requiring the sacrifice of much time, we propose that each gentleman, on sending his name, shall, at the same time, send us specimens of his prints; the appearance of his name in the list, under these conditions, will be a guarantee to those who desire to exchange, that the pictures they will receive in return will be, at least, of average merit. We do not, of course, desire those who have a large number of negatives to send us proofs of each, but only such as he may think necessary to give us a fair idea of their merit.
As regards the proposition to extend the system of exchange to larger photographs as well as stereoscopic pictures, we do not see why the same rules should not apply to one as the other. We therefore intend to print a separate list of those who are prepared to exchange large photographs, giving the dimensions of the print; and the fact of the name of the photographer appearing in this list will be a guarantee to those who desire to exchange with him that his picture is of fair average excellence, if nothing more.
It appears to be the general opinion that, on the whole, it is more convenient, as well as safer as regards freedom from injury in their transmission through the post-office, to send the stereograms unmounted; it will, therefore, be optional with those claiming an exchange, to send them mounted or unmounted, it being, of course, understood that any gentleman who receives a mounted picture, shall send a mounted one in return; and when unmounted ones are sent, they should also be untrimmed, as gentlemen who wish to mount them themselves, might also prefer to cut them to a uniform shape or size.
We are of opinion that it would be of great advantage were each person to write on the back of the picture, if mounted, or on a separate slip of paper, if unmounted, the name of the scene, date, and hour when photographed, time of exposure, process employed, maker of the lens, together with its length of focus and other description, size of the aperture, state of the light, and separation of the lenses; by this means very valuable information would, in time, be afforded, as to the comparative merits of different lenses, processes, &c.
[There follows the list of names of people already on the list:]
A.F. Stafford, 2, Alderson-street, South Shields,--Alex. Nicholson, Dun-Edin Villa, Highbury New Park, London.—W. Child, Bushbury, Wolverhampton.—H. Haakman, Amsterdam.—J.H. Jones, 12, Williams-street, Swansea. John Rookledge, Easingwold.—W. Brooks Reynolds, The Elms, Farringdon, Berks.—Dr. Towers, Hertford.—J. D. Twyman, 65, High-street, Ramsgate.—H. Hawker, Menheniot, Liskeard, Cornwall.—Count Wengierski, Osborne House, West Malvern.—Louis D’Elboux, Freemantle, Southampton.—Henry Bath, Longlands, Swansea.—J.W.G. Butch, Tenby.—A., Copsey, Long Melford, Suffolk.—Wm. Stonehousde, 4 Abbey-terrace, Westcliff, Whitby.—Capt. Baxter, Mancetter Manor, Atherstone.—J. S. Overton, Crowle, near Bawtry.—J. Heywood, 2, Willow-terrace, Moss-side, Manchester.—Frank Howard, 12, Whittingham-villas, Studley-road, Stockwell.—T. W. Coffin, Jun., Post-office, Devonport.—Henry Moore, Keastwich, Kirkby Lonsdale.—H. Higgins, Stamford.—C. Steven, White-lodge, Whitehead’s-grove, Chelsea.—J. Partridge, 146, High-street, Southampton.—Alex. Henderson, 3 Inkermann-terrace, Montreal, America.—David Storrar, Jun., High-street, Kirkaldy.—R. Mason, Bamber-bridge, Preston. F. Walker, 34 Crosby-street, Maryport.—J. S. Brock, Chestnut-cottage, Heacham, near Lynn, Norfolk.
1859: P News, Sept. 9, vol. III, #53, p. 12:
To Correspondents [selection]:
J.P.—We have to thank this correspondent for some of the most beautiful stereograms we have yet seen; indeed, it is difficult to imagine that it is in the power of photography, as at present known, to surpass them. We do not wonder at out correspondent not having profited by the exchanges which he has made; we know of only two photographers in [En]gland whose works would be a fair exchange for those of J.P. [NOTE: This may be John Rookledge, a member of the Stereoscopic Exchange Club, as listed in Photographic News, April 8, 1859, p. 60]
1859: P News, Sept. 16, vol. III, #54, p. 22-23:
The Isle of Wight from a Photographic Point of View.
To the Editor of the “Photographic News.”
Sir,--Of course, while I was staying at Freshwater Gate, I did not omit to make an excursion to Alum Bay, going along the cliffs as far as the lighthouse. My camera was left at home on this occasion, as I was anxious of seeing beforehand whether any satisfactory picture would be got in this direction. This walk was in itself worth a trip to the island. We continued ascending along a beautiful down, sprinkled with sheep, who, by their incessant cropping of the somewhat scanty herbage, gave rise to an aromatic smell which filled the air with its fragrance. Upwards, and always upwards, with the cries of the sea-fowl ringing in our ears, we continued our way until we reached the lighthouse on the top of the cliff above the Needles. From this point we had another of those views for which the Isle of Wight is famous. Inland the eye wandered over an immense tract of country, offering every variety of scenery; while over the sea it rested on innumerable sails of vessels of all sizes and every description, from the little yacht of three or four tons to the magnificent man-of-war forming one of the Channel Fleet. The cliffs along this part of the coast are the highest in the kingdom—at least, I was told so—and certainly they are the highest I ever saw, though whether they are really as much as 650 feet above the sea is a point on which I shall not venture an opinion. From here we returned to Freshwater Gate by sea, having hired a boat at Alum Bay to take us round, so that we might get a good view of the Needles; for although we could get a pretty fair view of them from the land, we decided that it was not so good as to make it worth while to bring the camera for the purpose of taking a negative of them from this point of view. To see them to advantage they must be seen from the sea, and to photograph them from this direction would require Mr. Skaife’s gun camera, and a subsequent enlargement of the negative by means of Mr. Woodward’s solar camera—which, by the way, must give a better picture than the only one I have seen printed by it, or I should not attach much value to its possession.
The sail from Alum Bay to Freshwater Gate is a most delightful one, the views which are obtained being of a very remarkable character. A photograph in natural colours of a very remarkable character. A photograph in natural colours of a portion of the cliffs of this bay would present a very singular appearance. It so happened that a drizzling rain set in as we were sailing by, so that we did not see it to advantage; but the boatman assured us that they were tinted with various colours arranged side by side, such as a deep red, blue, bright yellow, grey and black, following each other, and offering the strongest contrast. The adjoining bay, called Scratchell’s Bay, offers the best position from which to take a photograph of the Needles. There is a great arch, from the bottom of which a very good view could be obtained; but there would b e some difficulty in running a boat in with the camera if there were a sea running, and as this is a very common circumstance, I did not think it would be worth while to sail such a distance, at the risk of getting my apparatus wetted, without being able, after all, to attain my object.
On leaving Freshwater Gate we drove over to Yarmouth, not in itself a place of any great interest, nor offering any object which I thought worth taking; so that I spent a few hours in preparing some plates, six of which I coated with mucilage, according to the formula given by Mr. Keene in a number of the “Photographic News,” just by way of experiment. The first of these plates I exposed before a large mansion near Cowes, with fine trees behind it and on each side. The day was very hot, and the objects were strongly illuminated, so that I considered two minutes’ exposure would be ample, even for the foliage. I developed the plate the same evening with the solution prescribed, but the result was not very satisfactory; there was a deficiency of depth, and the outlines were badly defined, and there was a want of vigour in the negative which induced me to think that the print from it would be of little value; consequently, I washed it off. The next plate prepared in this way which I exposed was somewhat better; but as it did not come up to the proper standard of excellence, I did not think it worth keeping, more especially as the subject was not one of any interest, being merely chosen close to the hotel with the view of testing the process. At the same time, the appearance of the plates was encouraging. There were no blisters, nor stains, not any other defects of that kind; hence I conceive that the weakness of the negative may have been caused by too much of the nitrate of silver solution having been washed off, and I purpose to renew the experiment, as soon as I have leisure, with more care, as the advantage of employing a solution of gum as a substitute for albumen is very evident, the trouble of preparing it being as nothing in comparison. Moreover, I was particularly struck by the absence of blisters in all the plates, though they were prepared without any particular precautions, beyond filtering the solution through a bit of sponge placed in one of the little glass pourers which you designed for use in your modified albumen process. I shall be glad to see, through the medium of your journal, that some of your readers have given this process a trial, as I shall be unable myself to pursue any more experiments with it just at present.
To return to the more immediate object of this letter after such a long digression. The neighbourhood of Yarmouth not presenting any very attractive objects for my purpose, we drove over to Newport again, and from thence made excursions to several places we had not previously visited; amongst others, to Watergate, consisting of a few scattered houses near a pretty little brook. Several very interesting negatives were obtained of spots in the neighbourhood of Marwell Copse, chiefly landscapes, thickly dotted with trees. At no great distance from Marwell Copse we came upon Gatcombe. There are some beautiful view about here, making admirable pictures, either for the portfolio or the stereoscope. The church is small, and almost hidden by the foliage surrounding it, but it makes a very pretty picture, especially for the stereoscope, and so also does the Parsonage. The village itself is likewise very picturesquely situated, and yielded me three excellent negatives; so that, on the whole, I think I found this place about as fruitful in vies as any place I visited in the island. For fine trees, especially, this part is well worth visiting, and many a group of three or four makes a picture which one can hardly tire of looking at—at least, I find that to be the case as regards my own; but perhaps we are apt to regard our own work with something like parental affection. After leaving Gatcombe we went to Godshill—a straggling kind of place, built on the sides of the hill so called, on the top of which stands the church, a rather fine-looking building of old date. I was able to get three nice negatives here, in two of which the church forms a conspicuous and picturesque object. I should have liked to take some stereoscopic negatives of a series of monuments which this church contains, which are interesting as specimens of the art and costumes of the different periods in which they were sculptured; but the weather was too dull for working indoors when I was there, and I merely mention this for the benefit of those who may read this letter, in the event of their going to the island. As in many other parts of the country, the church is placed where a good proportion of the people would find it difficult to reach it—that is to say, on the top of the hill. The reason assigned for building the church here, is one with which we wandering photographers are familiar. It was begun in the valley; but all the building performed during the day was regularly undone by the spirit of evil during the night, and, after a fruitless contest, it was resolved to build it on the top of the hill: the real reason for building this and other churches on a hill being, I presume, to keep men’s religious duties present in their memory, by the constant sight of the building consecrated to their performance, and also for certain allegorical reasons.
The next place we visited was the seat of the Earl of Yarborough—a very fine building, which has the appearance of having been built several generations since. It makes a good picture, and the park, through which anybody is permitted to drive, presents some very attractive features, and the views which claim the attention of the photographer are so numerous as to create an embarrass des richesses. At the time we visited this place I was, unfortunately, ignorant of what I have since been informed is the case, viz., that visitors may obtain admission to view the principal rooms in the house, and, what is of far more interest, the museum it contains, which is said to be exceedingly rich in pictures, statues, gems, and various ancient things, collected principally by Sir Richard Worsley, the former possessor of the place, who purchased them at an enormous cost in Italy and Greece; and afterwards, with the assistance of a distinguished Italian, described them in a book which is said to have cost him not less than £27,000 by the time it was issued from the press.
(The remainder of our correspondent’s letter will be given next week.—Ed.)
1859: P News, Sept. 23, vol. III, #55, p. 33-34:
The Isle of Wight from a Photographic Point of View.* (*Concluded from vol. iii. P. 23)
When we returned to Newport, after this visit to Appuldurcombe, we thought we had only one more excursion to make from it before quitting it finally; but, on questioning the landlady, we heard of a very curious old church at a village called Shalfleet, or Chalfleet (I am not certain of the orthography), and this we resolved to visit the next day. We found it a curious old building, of no great architectural pretension, but possessing some singular characteristics which make it far more interesting for photographers than many a church of more distinguished appearance. I cannot describe it further than by saying that it is different to any church I ever saw, and I have seen a considerable number. On leaving this place, it being still early, we stopped at Calborne, an old-world place, which showed fewer signs of extension than most other places in the island. There was one thing we could not help noticing, both here and in other parts of the island, which was the superior appearance of the cottages inhabited by the labouring population over the generality of those we had met with in various parts of England—at least, as regarded their external appearance, and, as far as we had opportunities of judging, of their internal arrangements also. The next day we left Newport for good, with the intention of taking photographs of the two places which, perhaps, are more generally attractive to Isle of Wight visitors than any other places in the island. The places I allude to are Arreton and Brading churches. The neighbourhood of the latter furnishes as many beautiful views as any photographer need desire, and one in particular which was different to any I had previously seen. At some little distance from Brading church is the head of Brading Haven. It is a broad, flat piece of land, which at low water is a mudbed, but is covered by the sea as the tide gradually rises, and presents the appearance of a large and beautiful lake. This was once, according to tradition, solid ground, and supported a castle, the proprietor of which supported himself by robbing his neighbours, but principally by deluding passing vessels into the harbour, of which he took violent possession. He quarreled with his son, turned him out of doors, and he is supposed to have taken service in a foreign army and died abroad, and the whole place eventually went to ruin. Many generations afterwards, a descendant of the son came from over the sea, and endeavoured to recover the treasure sunk in the well. He collected the twelve white oxen, which tradition said was necessary to effect this; but just as he was about to make the attempt one of the oxen died, and, in spite of warning, he filled its place with a coloured one. The oxen dragged away at the ropes, and the box was at the very brink of the well, and the man in the very act of assisting its exit, when peals of laughter filled the air, the rope attached to the coloured ox broke, and the treasure fell to the bottom of the well, which immediately began to overflow, and speedily covered the whole valley. How much truth there may be mixed up in this tale it would be difficult to say, but it is certain that Sir Hugh Myddelton received his title in consideration of having, in addition to bringing the New River to London, built a dyke with a view to keeping out the sea from this haven. This dyke lasted for a time, but gradually the water forced its way through, first in one place and then in another, until at last the whole thing gave way, and the sea resumed possession. The village of Brading is a miserable-looking place in reality, but it makes a very good picture. I took a stereoscopic negative of a part of it where the street widens out, and among the pictures I propose to send you, you will perceive this, the most remarkable thing in it being the massive iron ring let into the ground, which ring was placed there in the good old times for the purpose of attaching the bull to it when baiting him. This has long been disused; but there is another relic of antiquity which is still occasionally used in the baiting of drunken and riotous individuals, viz., the stocks. I was assured that during the time that the fair is held it is very common to see a couple of individuals, guilty of drunkenness and disorderly conduct, thus compelled to give leg bail; they being liberated without further punishment when the constable considers they had been imprisoned long enough. In spite of all that has been said on the subject of the barbarity of using this ancient instrument of punishment, it may very well be questioned whether it is not on the whole a more satisfactory method of punishing such delinquencies than sending a man to prison, and throwing the burden of supporting his family on the ratepayers during his incarceration. They are placed under the very wall of the church, but on the side where one cannot include them in the picture of that building. The view I took of the church included a portion of the churchyard, where lie the remains of Mrs. Ann Berry, on whose tombstone is the well-known epitaph beginning, “Forgive, blest shade, the tributary tear.” Most ladies who visit the island come to this place to look on the spot where Leigh Richmond’s heroine lies buried. The print from my negative of the church is hardly equal to some I saw in the island, which I think were taken by a Mr. Adams, a photographer resident there. From Brading I returned to Sandown, where I spent an hour in taking stereoscopic negatives of the fort from three different points of view. This fort makes rather a pretty little picture, but its use must be very small under any circumstances, I should imagine. It was not until a day or two afterwards that I made my trip to Arreton, which was in my way from Newport to Brading, but I had a friend with me who wished to visit the latter place, and then to catch the coach as it passed through on its way to Ryde, so that I could not take it in its proper order. Of course a trip to Arreton is not obligatory on the wandering photographer, but I would advise him not to miss it, if he wishes to stand well in the estimation of his female relatives. I was assured that ladies have visited this church, and the cottage which “the Dairyman’s Daughter” occupied, who had come all the way from America for the express purpose; and I doubt whether any lady ever visited the island without making the pilgrimage to the spot where she lies buried. The inscription on the stone is quite distinct, and cannot be read, even by a man, without a saddening emotion. The exterior of the church is very old looking, and its size and appearance makes it very well worth the expenditure of a plate. The interior is filled with the wretched-looking unpainted wooden boxes which they call pews, and has nothing remarkable about it. There is, however, a three-volume edition of Fox’s Martyrology of very old date, filled with illustrations after the manner of the period, the faces of the courageous men undergoing ignition expressing utter unconsciousness of what was going on at their lower extremities. This edition is, I think, a rare one, and it seems almost a pity that it should be placed where every person who enters the church can handle it.
With my visit to Arreton I shall bring my communications to you on the subject of my holiday in the Isle of Wight to a close; and with thanks for the favour you have done me in publishing them,--I am, yours &c., Iota.
1859: P News, Sept. 23, vol. III, #55, p. 34:
Miscellaneous:
The Stereoscope.—How little is this wonderful instrument understood and appreciated! The thousands who purchase it do so simply for the moments of pleasure it may afford—as a mere toy. Yet it is more than this: it is one of the most powerful instruments for investigating the past and present ever given to man to study. The past, in the contemplation of the vast piles of ruins and deserted cities of the ancients, which it places before you. The present, by the living scenes of to-day. In your parlour you can, by it, study every stone, its very fashion, size, and position, as hewn and placed by the workmen of every age—trace the progress of architectural art and sculpture, view the wonderful cities, living and decayed, of every country and period, or revel in the beauties of the primeval forest, the graceful valley, or the beautiful and sublime waterfall. The student in ancient history has, in the stereoscope and its pictures, a means of knowledge unsurpassed by even a visit to the lands of which we read. And to what great uses cannot this simple little instrument be devoted, were it properly understood and appreciated? Besides giving us the most intensely natural embodiment of scenes all around us, near and far distant, what a wonderful assistance would it be in the lecture room of the anatomist, or the closet of the medical student—what a ready help in the transition of information in architectural design, or construction! With this instrument you have before your eye, not merely a picture, but the object itself, in its length breadth, and height—every stem can be counted, every line traced, each marking of the hammer or chisel is prominently visible. In the medical college they can be made to take the place, in a great measure, of the dissecting room; every vein, muscle, and nerve can be reproduced to the eye in all the roundness and relief of the natural object. How many vexatious cases might thus, also, be preserved for future investigation long after the poor diseased body has crumbled into dust. The stereoscope was not given to us as a toy, but as a powerful source of knowledge and investigation, and as such it should employed.
1859: P News, Oct. 7, vol. III, #57, p. 51:
Observations of the Spots and Faculæ On The Sun. By M. Le P. Secchi.
The study of the solar spots has recently acquired considerable and peculiar importance from the insight they give into the physical constitution of that luminary. Without presuming to criticise the systems of observations actually adopted, it cannot be denied that they leave much to be desired in order to insure the success sought for. Generally, indeed, the observation is confined to counting the number of spots visible at any particular moment, and, consequently, the results are mixed with those arising from the variations of the atmosphere, which complicate the law of apparitions. Beside this, as there is necessarily much that is arbitrary in the distinction of the groups according to the observers and the apparent power of the telescopes, the results of different epochs are not easily comparable: this simple method is, moreover, insufficient for the recognition of the position of the spots, so as to show whether they exhibit themselves in the same part of the sun. On the other hand, the exact methods of astronomical or photographic observation require too much time to be available to everybody.
As in this matter (at all events for the present) a continued series of observations is of more importance than minute exactness, which in the present instance is out of the question, I conceive that a purely graphic and very expeditious method would be preferable to any other, as much on account of the observations as the reductions. Hence the system I have introduced into the observatory is one of this kind, and, with very slight interruptions, ahs been in use for the last year, with somewhat remarkable results, which results I shall alone give you, as the details would be somewhat out of place.
1. The solar image formed by an object glass, with an aperture of six inches, and a focal length of seven feet, was projected on a screen, and a sketch taken of the spots and faculæ almost every day; now, if on the circles which represent the solar disc, we trace the diameter of the ellipse in which the solar equator is projected at the moment of observation, it will be found that in general the faculæ are disposed in groups on either side of this line, and generally to the number of four. The equatorial zone is usually without either spots or faculæ, and this distribution has been so constant and so strongly marked during the last six months, that one could trace the direction of the solar equator simply by the distribution of the faculæ. It is well known that the spots range themselves in two zones on either side of the solar equator, but I am not aware that anybody has made the same observation with respect to the faculæ; the zones of these, however, seem broader than those of the spots, but the width of the zone of one hemisphere rarely tranches on the other. The constancy of this disposition evidently proves that the faculæ constitute two continuous zones on each side of the equator, and not insolated groups, pretty nearly similar to the zones of the trade-winds on the terrestrial globe.
2. If, after having found the heliographic longitude and latitude of the spots, we reconstruct their distribution on the circumference of the solar equatorial zone, we shall not be slow in perceiving, that although particular spots and their groupings may be very variable, nevertheless, there are regions in which they reproduce themselves several times in succession, if not in the same place, at all events, in the immediate vicinity. This tends to prove their dependence on and connection with the accidents of the solar body itself. The more disturbed regions during the last six months have been in longitude 40º, 150º, 340º, reckoning from the solar meridian what passed through the centre of the disc at midday of the 17th Dec., 1858.
3. Last year I pointed out a method of finding the depth of the solar spots, founded on Wilson’s theory: the results obtained then have been confirmed by measurements of several other spots, in such a way that the thickness of the photosphere does not exceed a third, or at the most a half of the radius of the terrestrial globe. The relatively small thickness of this layer will explain the facility with which it is rent.
I hope that the study of the sun, followed in this manner, will produce interesting results, analogous to those already discovered by Messrs. Carrington, Swabe, Sabine, and Wolff.--Cosmos
1859: P News, Oct. 7, vol. III, #57, p. 51-52:
Exhibition of Photographs at Aberdeen.
We are rejoiced to find that the exhibition of photographs has given so much satisfaction, and feel pleasure in reflecting that we may take some credit to ourselves for having assisted in bringing about so gratifying a result.
Among the more conspicuous of the prints exhibited are the photographs of Raffaelle’s [sic] cartons, by Caldesi and Montecchi—capital specimens of which, by the way, are to be seen at the South Kensington Museum.
If evidence were wanting of the superior advantages of photography over engraving in copying works of art where fidelity is required, we need only refer to these prints. We question whether their beauties were ever appreciated before they were popularised by the firm above mentioned, even by those whose taste had been educated. Their large size prevented the eye from taking in their beauties so readily as can be done now that they are reduced to proportions so much smaller. We need not, however, offer any further remarks on them, a detailed notice having appeared in our columns so recently. The most interesting prints to the visitor are those which depict views of different places in the vicinity, which possibly he may not have time to visit; and we are hardly disposed to join in the onslaught made by a local art critic on some of those photographs because they happen to contain representations of residences of individuals more or less well known. The generality of photographers, like their more pretentious brethren who use the brush, have to contribute their quota to the expenses of the state by means of what they earn, and if they find pictures of this class sell better than a representation of a group of ferns or a flock of sheep, it can scarcely be a matter of surprise that this class of photographs should be rather plentiful. The same slashing critic says of the portraits exhibited—“The public would not undergo the slightest loss were the countless delineations of crinoline and pegtops put where their originals should be—at the back of the fire. Let the photographer go to the green fields, and the woods, and the hills, for there he will find subjects worthy of his art. At present he is but too often misusing photography, and destroying the public taste by the choice of his subjects. True, in the proper sense of the word, he can never be an artist; he is, strictly speaking, but a mechanic.” After such a strong expression of opinion it is rather surprising to find him speaking of the look of the old woman in M. Rejlander’s picture of “Speed him sell” as “a masterly stroke.”
On walking round the room we see many pictures with which we are familiar, such, for instance, as “The Wayfarer,” “Preparing to cross the Brook,” some large representation photographs by Bisson, and others by Baldus; but there is also a good sprinkling of clever photographs by local celebrities, which have, to the majority of the visitors, the charm of novelty.
1859: PNews, Oct. 7, vol. III, #57, p. 56-58:
Through Japan With A Camera. (From our own Correspondent [Pierre Rossier]
Nangasaki, 6th July, 1859
Honoured Sir, --Having had the pleasure of spending an evening at your Society in London some four or five years ago, where I had the advantage of hearing a paper ready by you on some observations you had made on polarized lithe, a subject in which I took a lively interest, I have the more pleasure now in acceding to your wish in sending for publication in your Journal a copy of portions of the diary which I have since kept and as much of it refers to a country in which I have resided a considerable time, and one of which few of your readers know anything, I think it will be read with some interest.
The country I allude to is Japan; and I confess that I have been greatly surprised by some statements respecting it which I have read both in English and French newspapers, which prove nothing so much as the absurdity of drawing conclusions respecting a people from what meets the eye during a ride or a walk through its streets or bazaars. My own acquaintance with this people dates from a period subsequent to my visit to your Society, referred to above, and has now extended over a residence of two years and three months at Nagasaki and other places. The facilities which I have had for moving about from place to place in the interior of Japan, I derived from a circumstance that occurred shortly after my arrival, and while engaged in taking photographs of sundry groups of individuals, both Dutch and Japanese, at one of the numerous gardens in Nagasaki. I was surrounded by a curious group of Japanese of both sexes, among whom was one intelligent elderly gentleman, who took a great interest in what I was doing, and who showed by his remarks that he had some knowledge of photography. His remarks were made in Dutch, which he spoke pretty fluently, and with a correctness of accent which I, a Norwegian, who had spoken Dutch habitually for years, could not surpass. As he was very polite in his manner, and very unobtrusive, I willingly undertook to answer all his questions provided he would wait until I had finished the work in which I was engaged, and would explain to the particular group I wanted to photograph that to enable me to take a picture it was necessary that they should remain perfectly still; and that the passing of young women with trays of tea and sweetmeats between me and the sitters was calculated to have an objectionable influence on the result. He acceded to my request very cheerfully, and chiefly through his assistance I was able to cover seven or eight plates, of which, however, the less said the better, a long sea voyage not being calculated to improve the qualities of any collodion, no matter how eminent the maker may be.
After I had ended my work we sat down together to drink a cup of tea, and impart mutual information. At first he confined his questions to photography and similar subjects; but after a time he began to question me as to my motives in coming to Japan, with a directness which would not admit of an evasive reply; moreover, I had no motive for concealing the object I had in view. This conversation ultimately led to my accepting the post of secretary which he offered me, on the understanding that I should be at liberty to practice photographer whenever and wherever I saw fit. This condition he agreed to so readily, that I saw at once that the proposition he had made m arose mainly out of his desire to learn the art himself.
My employer was named Dsetjuma. He was both n official and a merchant, and it was in connection with the latter occupation that I was calculated to be of most service to him; the small knowledge I possessed of the Japanese tongue at that time, and my almost total ignorance of the laws and customs of the country, rendered me of little use to him in his official capacity. It must not be supposed that all this was done in one evening. There were inquiries to be made by both of us before this could be accomplished; and being an official, he had to obtain the sanction of a superior functionary before he could venture to conclude an arrangement with me, a foreigner, who might be capable of betraying official secrets to my government, which they naturally imagined was the Dutch one. At last everything was settled; my camera and other photographic impedimenta were carefully packed up; also my European clothes, which I resolved on wearing no more while in Japan, and in the evening of a most miserably wet day I put myself into a species of sedan chair, and my luggage into another, and was carried off to Dsetjuma’s house; which I entered to all outward seeming a Japanese.
I must confess I did not feel very happy on arriving. There was no familiar face to look at—even my employer was absent; and as I sat on the mat, in the attitude of the natives, and trying to look as if I were used to it, I felt very much disposed to get up and go back to my old lodgings, and resign all hope of becoming more intimately acquainted with the vie intime—the domestic manners and customs of the natives—that is possible to any resident in Nangasaki who chooses to keep his eyes open. No doubt this depression arose in a great measure from my having been shut up so long in what was little better than a box, with scarcely any ventilation, from the necessity of keeping it closed owing to the wet, and so being compelled to breathe an atmosphere composed principally of carbonic acid gas. I would recommend anybody who may have a strong presentiment that some evil is going to happen to him, to reflect before suffering the feeling to overcome him, whether he may not have been somewhat where he was subjected to the necessity of breathing a poisonous atmosphere; for I think I may safely affirm that it would be difficult for anybody to feel more strongly than I did at that moment that the “darkness of desolation was about me, and the shadow of darkness on my path;” and yet, a night’s sleep was sufficient, with a cold bath on getting up in the morning, to make me myself again, and the melancholy of the previous evening had completely vanished.
I found on entering the room into which I had been shown on the previous night, that breakfast was already prepared, and my employer waiting to receive me; which he did with the cordiality which is the characteristic of all men of mark in Japan, when they are not restrained by official considerations. I was too hungry to inquire very curiously into the nature of the contents of the different dishes of cooked meat; besides, I had made up my mind to conform to the customs of the country in all things, small and great, as being the likeliest way of acquiring correct information, and getting rid of any prejudices I might entertain; so I are unhesitatingly of them all, although not without certain qualms when suggestions of worms and snails occurred to my mind. However, by dint of taking plenty of exercise, and so getting exceedingly hungry, I soon managed to get rid of this little remnant of fastidiousness, which is not so difficult to accomplish as many people may imagine.
Dsetjuma’s house was built pretty much in the same style, and of the same size, as the generality of those belonging to men of his rank in that part of Japan, but it had certain natural advantages attached to it, which the generality of the mouses had not. The garden was intersected by a pretty little stream, as clear as crystal; and at one part of it a basin had been made of white marble, through which the rivulet took its course with a gentle murmur and a ripple most delightful to hear on a hot day. Over this stream was built a large summerhouse, the floor of which was only a few inches above the level of the stream. The sides were formed of panels made of semicircular pieces of bamboo, so contrived that on touching a knob a spring was released, and the panel rolled itself round one of the pillars which supported the roof. By this contrivance a panel could be closed or opened anywhere in an instant, according to the position of the sun or the direction of the wind. It was in this summer house that Dsetjuma spent very much of his time, either smoking and watching the ladies of his household disporting themselves in the water like so many sirens, or in writing official reports and letters. Artificial rocks formed of large rough pieces of slag, a material which is very well adapted for the purpose, from its never showing signs of being affected by exposure to moisture. Growing from openings in these heaps of slag were stunted shrubs, which had the appearance of aged trees, gilliflowers, geraniums, tulips, lilies, and many other flowers with which you are familiar in Europe, but larger and far more brilliant in colour than any I have seen in Holland, with the exception perhaps of the tulips. Far surpassing the flowers I have enumerated, both in size and generally in beauty, were numerous flowers which I never saw out of Japan, the names of which it would be of no use to specify, even if you could spare the space, as I do not believe they could be acclimatized in Europe, their beauty appearing to depend on the peculiar manner in which the Japanese cultivate them, and the nature of the soil in which they are grown, as well as the manure with which they are supplied, always in solution. The gardeners of Japan cannot be excelled anywhere in the world. I have watched those employed in the garden I am describing, and it was a study to see their earnest faces as they examined the development of a flower. Flowers seemed to be their passion; and, though I rose directly it was light, in order that I might get a bath before anybody was stirring, I was sure to find them in the garden, where they as regularly remained until it was dark-not because they were obliged to do so, but because they took a pleasure in their business. The consequence of this feeling has been the production of the most beautiful flowers from originals scarcely worth looking at. The paths, at least most of them, are shaded with creeping plants, covered with a profusion of flowers of the most varied colours, and arranged with exquisite harmony. These plants are trained over a light bamboo framework, which is completely hidden by them. At the verge of the garden are two grottoes; the interior of which is capacious, and contains only some mats on a raised framework, and a collection of pipes, with a goodly supply of tobacco, which is kept here that it may retain its moisture and flavor The entrance to these grottoes is on the side opposite to the daily course of the sun, so that the most delicious coolness prevails in them on the hottest day, a coolness maintained by frequent irrigation of the flowers and plants which grow on their exteriors,--the narrowness of the entrance assisting in maintaining this low temperature, though it has the disadvantage of at the same time excluding light. The drawback to the enjoyment of sitting in one of these grottoes consists in the number of insects which take refuge in them in spite of the constant fumigation they undergo; one of these especially, a species of beetle, about an inch long, with bright scarlet wings, and alternate stripes of green and yellow along the back, appears to enjoy the smoke, and no sooner does one light a pipe than they invariably show themselves. This would be rather agreeable than otherwise, owing to their beautiful colours, were it not that their attachment for the smoke extends to the smoker, and they crawl up your clothes and along your back in the most uncomfortable manner. Indeed, their tastes are peculiar: I one day took down a jar containing cyanide of potassium, which I had inadvertently left uncovered, and found it nearly filled with them.
The freshness of the flowers and grass is preserved by copious irrigation. This is accomplished by means of pumps and hose; one pump being connected with hose to supply the reservoir of a second pump, which projects the water along the hose to which the tube is attached from which the water is directed. This tube is flattened at the end and perforated with holes to break the jet of water into numerous little streams.
The hose they use is extremely flexible, and in this respect is incomparably superior to that made of leather or gutta percha, which is used in Europe. I don’t know the name of the tree from whence they derive the gum which they use in making it’ but in answer to an inquiry I made of one of the gardeners, I was told that it was obtained from a tree similar to one he pointed out, which was a kind of cypress. What I have said of the garden will be sufficient to give your readers some idea of what a gentleman’s garden in Japan is like, for though all have not the same natural advantages as that which I have described, they all resemble it in their general arrangement.
Very shortly after taking up my quarters in Dsetjuma’s house, I found that if my chemicals were to be of use to me, they must be removed to some cooler place than the house afforded; consequently I proposed that one of the grottoes should be given up to me for the purpose of being used as a dark room. To this he readily agreed, and after a few shelves had been fitted, I took possession; and a very commodious dark room I found it, and particularly agreeable to work in in [sic] the intensely hot weather. It is true, that there was still the drawback of the beetles and other insects; who once ate the collodion film off a whole batch of plates which I had put to dry; but as I took care not to give them the opportunity a second time, this was not of much consequence. (To be continued.) [Oct. 14, p. 68]
1859: PNews, Oct. 14, vol. III, #58, p. 68-70:
Through Japan With a Camera* (From our own Correspondent.)
[*Continued from vol. III, p. 58][Photographer was Pierre Rossier]
The climate is not, on the whole, more unfavourable to photographic operations than that of Europe. In the hot weather I found the interior of the tent which I had brought out with me so stifling, that I was obliged to have it coated with a bright white composition, which had the effect of making it a little more bearable, and I likewise had the camera covered in a similar manner; but the necessity for working during the hottest part of the day did not often arise, except occasionally, when we were travelling. I do not think the time of exposure differed materially, but I cannot speak positively on this point, because the collodion which I had taken with me from Europe had become so deteriorated by the voyage, that I was obliged to make what I used from materials I bought on the spot; and as I never found it worth while to make my own collodion at home, I was subjected to many failures in preparing it. However, with the help of Il Plico del Fotografo, I at last succeeded in obtaining a sufficiently good collodion to work with, though its sensitiveness was probably inferior to the preparations used by you.
My first operations, after forming my engagement with Dsetjuma, were naturally confined to his house and garden; after which, he himself sat for his portrait. He was delighted with the result, and ran into the house to exhibit the representation to the ladies of his family, and nothing would satisy him but that I should take all their portraits in succession. Of course I had no objection; on the contrary, I felt rather curious to see what they were like. So I had a couch brought from the house to the immediate vicinity of the grotto—now become my dark room—and arranged cushions upon it to give them a proper degree of elevation. Presently out came Dsetjuma with a lady, behind whom a female walked carrying a huge umbrella. At first she seemed rather shy of me, and kept her fan before her face; but as this was an obstacle to my taking her portrait, it was necessary that she should remove it; but it was a long time before she would give it up. I then posed her, with the attendant standing behind her holding the umbrella. I requested her husband to explain the necessity of her remaining perfectly still, and that I should not look at her while the operation was going on. Accordingly, I turned my back, removed the cap from the lens, exposed, and then restored the cap, and removed the plate from the camera. On developing, to my great surprise, I found the figure come out very well, but the head and face assumed the form of an irregular patch, in which no trace of features was visible. A closer examination showed that she must have thrown something over her face at the moment I removed the cap; and, on her husband questioning her, she confessed that she had done so. We showed her the picture as it was taken; but the only effect this had was to fill her with the most absurd alarm. At first, I believe she thought I had deprived her of her head by magical means, for she raised her hand to it immediately. A good many believe in magic here; and even when she has satisfied herself that it was in its proper place, she positively refused to sit again at that time. Of course her reluctance was eventually overcome, and after that the other ladies were willing enough to follow her example; indeed, their willingness became rather a source of annoyance, for they were not content with getting Dsetjuma to bring them to me to be photographed in all sorts of attitudes, but, when they became accustomed to me, they would come into my dark room and pull the bottles and apparatus about, and dip their fingers into the silver bath, and tattoo themselves on their arms and bosoms, until they found it made them smart a little, when they left off the latter amusement. In addition to this, they had a large circle of acquaintances, and all these were brought to me to undergo the operation of having their portrait taken, until I began to think I should have done much better if I had had a gallery built for the express purpose, and charged a fee for each portrait. Subsequent experience taught me that, in such a case, I should not have received a visit from any of these ladies; but I was not aware of this at the time, and felt a little vexed occasionally at having so much trouble. It must be remembered that I had to manufacture nearly every substance I used—not only collodion, but nitrate of silver, hyposulphite of soda, and, in short, everything I did not make myself had to be tested, and the impurities, if possible, eliminated; consequently, when my stock of chemicals ran low, it was no light matter to replace them.
In this way several weeks ran on pleasantly enough. My post, so far as the peculiar duties of a secretary were concerned, was a sinecure, and it might have been more correctly defined as photographer in ordinary to his Excellency Dsetjuma. But this was not what I wanted; my object was to see something of the interior of the country, and to penetrate to places where Europeans had never been allowed to wander. My appearance was not calculated to excite any special attention, and, I believe, I was now generally presumed to be a native. Naturally very dark, I had added to this by deepening the colour of my face and hands, by washing them with a weak solution of nitrate of silver, and suffering them to dry in the sun, until my complexion was l a little fairer than that of a native, and not nearly so fair as that of some of the women; my hair was dressed in the Japanese style; and, altogether, I was not a bad specimen of a native; according to my Dutch friends, my only fault was that I was a little too grave.
Before I go further, I may as well correct some very erroneous notions, on the subject of the manners of Japanese women, which, I find, from some German newspapers received here, are current in England. If these newspapers are correctly informed, it appears that some of the gentlemen connected with the embassy, which arrived here some months back, have spoken of having met ladies in public gardens, and of their great amiability, and so on. Now, Japanese ladies never go to these places; the females who do frequent them are just as much entitled to the appellation as are those of the same sex who frequent similar gardens in the suburbs of London, if I may believe what was told me respecting these latter by a most respectable Englishman, during my visit to your city. As to their amiability, I do not believe it to be assumed; it is a national characteristic, which, in them, is not kept down by any feeling of irritation arising from a sense of their degraded position; for the simple reason, that, judged by the Japanese standard of morality, their occupation is not one to inspire either pity or contempt. Nay, more, among this class are to be found some of the best educated and accomplished women in Japan, upon whose education considerable sums of money have been expended by the men or women who purchased them, when children, from their parents. The women who were seen to take their bath in the open air must have belonged to this class, and though the gentlemen who saw these things may imagine that all the women were alike whom they saw, I must beg to assure them that they did not see respectable women at all; these remain in-doors generally in the morning, and, when they go out to pay visits, rarely or never walk. These gentlemen may, perhaps, think that, if they were mistaken, the immorality which exists in Japan is very great, and, unfortunately, this is so; but it must be borne in mind that Christianity is now unknown here, and that it is hardly fair to judge them by a European standard. Let us hope that one of the results of bringing this country into communication with your own and other countries, will be the spread of the Christian religion, though the great obstacle to this will be the want of teachers who thoroughly understand the language, which is very copious and very difficult, and, moreover, the government will oppose it strongly. The only hope which I can see of permission being granted to teach the Christian religion, lies in convincing the emperor himself of its truth. I have dwelt at some length on these statements, because I feel a warm interest in those who really are the women of Japan, in which term I do not include the frequenters of tea-gardens and hotels; and, besides, I am sure that your readers will be glad to know the truth on this point from one who has lived among them.
When I hinted to my employer that I should like to make a trip into the interior, he raised so many difficulties that I was almost ready to despair. I did not doubt that he himself was willing enough to go, but he was afraid of the consequences—of its becoming known that he had taken a foreigner into the interior, and that that foreigner had taken pictures of the country. He assured me that if such a thing became known (and it would be utterly impossible to keep it a secret), death would most certainly be his fate, and, what to me was at least of as great importance, mine also. In this dilemma a bright idea occurred to me: I proposed that he should practice photography under my instructions until he was sufficiently proficient to take a portrait without assistance, so that he might be able to operate in my absence, in the event of that being necessary. When he advanced so far, I suggested that we might travel in reversed positions, he as master and I as assistant. This suggestion appeared exactly to meet his views, and the next day was spent in initiating him into the mysteries of pouring collodion on a plate, sensitizing, and the other manipulations incident to the practice of our art, with such amount of theoretical explanation as should enable him to give a reason for what he did. A very few days sufficed to make of him a very fair practical photographer—I mean one who could take a picture when he had all the solutions ready prepared for him, which was all that was necessary under the circumstances; and I thought that now we should start without much further delay, but I was again disappointed. I had not taken into consideration the pride he would feel in acquiring a knowledge of an art which appeared to him little less than magical, and which to his friends was magic of the very highest order. Hence, day after day went by, and there was always a new friend to be astonished to-morrow. At last, time did its usual office, and though the number of his visitors, whom the fame of his wonder-working machine brought to his house, continued to increase, he began to get tired of astonishing them, and we set about seriously discussing the details of our journey.
The first question to be decided was how we should travel. The cheapest way would be on horseback, with a couple of baggage-horses to carry our luggage; but there would, in that case, be the continual risk of some of the fastenings giving way, and the whole object of our journey would be destroyed, by the bottles being broken. We therefore decided on going on horseback ourselves, and having the camera and other things packed in the palanquin used by the ladies. This conveyance was extremely light and convenient; in length it was between six and seven feet, and in height rather under five feet, and the same in width. The sides were formed of pieces of bamboo, both sides flying back round a pillar on a knob being pushed, in the same manner as I have described in the case of the panels of the summer-house. These sides were ornamented with figures of fabulous animals, houses, and landscapes, done in gold and ivory, with very little regard to the laws of perspective; the whole was covered with a beautiful varnish. This ornamentation was the work of the ladies, who amused their leisure hours in this way, instead of spending their time in making fanciful imitations of Moses among the bulrushes, the judgment of King Solomon, or a little dog with a pipe in his mouth, all in Berlin wool, as is the fashion among you.
This conveyance was supported on a light but tough piece of wood, which projected some five or six feet beyond the litter at either end, in the form of two poles, intended to rest on the shoulders of the bearer or bearers, for the width between them was such as to allow of one man walking with a pole resting on each shoulder, or for two bearers to carry one pole each.
This machine was exactly the thing for the purpose, the only drawback to its use being that it required four men to carry it, in relays of two each. However, it offered so many advantages over a packhorse, that we decided on using it to carry our luggage, we ourselves going on horseback.
On the morning fixed for our departure, I had the honour of breakfasting with the ladies for the first time. I looked upon it as a sort of sacrifice to propitiate me in favour of their worthy lord and master; for they still seemed to have a vague suspicion that I practiced an unholy art, which I thought had entirely disappeared, but which seemed to revive at the moment when they were going to entrust their beloved alone with me for an indefinite period. The parting was very affectionate on both sides, and I fancied Dsetjuma was disposed to give up the trip; so I addressed questions to him to divert his thoughts, and after he had had a long private interview with one of them, who seemed to have a rather undue share of his regard, he joined me in the garden, where I had been giving a last look at the contents of the litter, to make sure that nothing had been omitted. Here we mounted our horses, before emerging into the street, and I must acknowledge that I felt a little shamed at seeing a man walking beside my horse’s head, and holding the bridle, but as Dsetjuma entertained no such feeling, and as it is a common practice among Japanese citizens, I felt found, as a real child of the country, to make no objection. In this way we proceeded along the streets of Nangasaki, Dsetjuma and I riding side by side, each with an esquire holding his bridle, and the liter borne behind us by the remaining two attendants. I have already observed that my appearance approached so closely that of the Japanese as regarded colour of the skin, that a casual spectator would never have imagined me to be any other than a native, so that we excited no sensation among the people through whom we passed. Now and then we saw one of Dsetjuma’s friends, who may have imagined I was not a native of one of the islands adjacent to their coast, as he told them I was, but they made no observation to me on that point, confining themselves to making a polite remark to me, to which I replied with a bow, smoking in the meantime like a small furnace, and looking as grave as a Dutch burgher, who finds, on balancing his accounts, that he owes rather more than he has got to receive. I would recommend anybody who intends visiting a foreign country alone, to practise smoking; it gives him opportunities of observation which he would not enjoy otherwise. A man smoking may sit for hours in a public place, and watch the manners and behavior of those present, without exciting any particular attention; whereas, if he were not so engaged, he would become an object of observation to others; so that, instead of being the observer, he would become the observed; and, even if his nerves were good, and he were able to maintain his composure under these circumstances, he would entirely fail in his object, viz., that of seeing people as they are. This is rather a long digression in favour of the use of tobacco; but I can assure you it is one which those of your readers will do well to remember who propose to travel in foreign countries; at all events, I can say with certainty, that it saved me from being, on many occasions, drawn into a conversation, which would inevitably have led to my being recognized as a foreigner, from my imperfect acquaintance with the Japanese language. I had, by hard study, and constant instruction from Dsetjuma, become sufficiently acquainted with his language to comprehend whether an observation addressed to me was a question requiring an affirmative or a negative answer: in the former case, I bowed slightly; in the latter, I shook my head; and where I had doubts, I made a compromise between the two, and puffed forth larger volumes of smoke, and looked graver than ever. The most tiring time for me was when we stopped for the night at the place for public accommodation; because, having to sit for some hours along with numerous travelers, it was impossible that I could escape questioning, for there is no stiffness among these people, and no man hesitates for an instant n addressing any person who happens to be near him in a public place; and nothing else occurred to me to avoid this than to pretend that I was completely deaf. This ruse was successful, for nobody cared to talk to a man who could not hear a word that was said to him; at the same time, it was very unpleasant to be thus condemned to silence when I most wished to ask questions; but of two evils it was necessary to choose the least, and the least was certainly silence; for the best that could have been hoped for me, if it had been discovered that I was a foreigner, would have been my arrest, and being sent back to Nangasaki, while the worst was a consequence I shuddered to contemplate.
On the day of our setting out we did not stop anywhere to take pictures, because we did not wish to attract attention; and, certainly, the setting up of a camera so near the city would have insured our being surrounded by a crowd of curious spectators in a very few minutes. (To be continued.)[Oct. 21, p. 80]
1859: PNews, Oct. 21, vol. III, #59, p. 80-82:
Through Japan With A Camera* (From our own Correspondent)[Pierre Rossier]
(*Continued from vol. III p. 70)
At the commencement of our journey, nothing surprised me more than to see the manner in which the roads were crowded with people. It was not merely at starting that I was struck with this, though even then I could not but contrast the number of people moving about with the comparatively deserted environs of continental cities. Men and women, old and young, and boys and girls, down to the little things that could just run alone—all seemed to be out of doors, as if their business lay in moving from one place to another. I could not learn that they had any business, at least the majority of them, to set them travelling in this way, and I really think that it is caused by the innate restlessness of their dispositions. I could not help thinking what excellent dividends a railway would pay among such a population, provided they had more money to spend. These wayfarers were of all classes, from the landed proprietor to the beggar; the former, many of them, travelling with far greater ostentation than many an astern prince. Crowds of men go before and behind in a regular procession, which is arranged with the same care and ceremony as if it were a theatrical performance. The antics of these fellows are most ludicrous, and their appearance seen from behind, when the roads happen to be muddy, is, to say the least of it, singular, owing to the manner in which they tuck up the sole garment they wear much higher than the exigency of the circumstance would appear to require. Until I saw a procession of this kind, I had no idea that the figures one sees on fans and other Japanese articles in Europe, could be drawn from the life. I looked upon the representation of the fat native of Japan, who always seems in the act of ascending an invisible staircase in seven league boots, as the production of the artist’s imagination; but I was in error: it is, in truth an attitude in which I have seen scores of individuals at the same time. On the very first day of our travels, we met one of these interminable processions in a rather large village. Dsetjuma dismounted, and of course I did likewise, and we stood beside our horse’s heads in a respectful attitude until the great man had passed by. There were saddle horses, each led by two grooms, and behind each horse walked two men one of whom carried a pike with a lacquered mantle, and the other had a bow slung over one shoulder and a quiver over the other. Then there were others who were armed with scimitars, others with old-fashioned muskets, others carrying lacquered poles with bunches of feathers fastened at the top; and at intervals appeared an individual with a pole on his shoulder, from each end of which was slung a square box glittering with varnish, and covered with grotesque figures. Immediately in front of the palanquin, in which the great man was seated, walked several coupes of youths in rich dresses; indeed, many of the individuals who marched along on foot had very rich-looking dresses; then came the palanquin, in which was seated the person to support whose dignity all this ceremony was made. He was a quiet-looking old man, with a grave and reverend face, very pleasant to look upon. He appeared absorbed in thought, and did not notice us. The palanquin was carried by six men, three before and three behind, but not on their shoulders,--the poles rested on their hands, which were about level with their shoulders. All these bearers were of the same height, and this method of carrying the litter is much pleasanter for the person carried than leaving the poles to rest on the bearers’ shoulders. Following the palanquin were two horses with their trappings—I presume for the great man to ride, when he felt disposed; and after these came a like number and kind of men to those who headed the procession. I have seen too many strange customs to think any custom ridiculous because it is new to me, but certainly I could hardly prevent myself from laughing outright when I saw the litter-bearers marching gravely along with an affectation of carefulness which would have been natural enough if they had been descending a precipice, but which, under the circumstances, was most ludicrous. As to the fellows who carried the boxes, their mode of progression was precisely that represented on the lacquered articles which they manufacture here for exportation as well as for home use, to which I have already referred. Each seemed to try to raise his leg higher than his fellow, and I cannot help fancying that it originated in an attempt to imitate the gait of a horse, each porter having a laudable ambition to appear the most fiery animals, and, consequently, assuming very high action. But while imitating the action of a horse they appeared conscious of the rights of the rider, and every now and then would bring their heels in smart contact with the more fleshy part of their persons, and after their administration of this stimulant would immediately step out higher than ever, and fairly paw the air with eagerness, as if nothing but the restraint put upon them could prevent them from running away with themselves with the swiftness of the wind. This singular mode of going was not confined to the men who carried the chests; many of the others acted in a similar way, but not all of them. If the horses possessed half as much fire I don’t think a Japanese would dare to get on their backs, for, as a rule, they are the most cowardly and ungainly riders I ever saw, and the horses seem made on purpose for them.
I estimate that the troop moved at the rate of about half a mile an hour; but they do not always move so slowly as this, as I found, when they were marching along the road, where there were none but wayfarers to see them, they walked in the ordinary manner. And here I cannot help saying a few words in praise of the roads. They are broad, smooth, and free from filth of any description, and even from anything which can be termed litter. The very leaves which fall from the trees by the roadside are collected, for the purpose, I imagine, of being thrown into the tube containing manure, which stand in the fields, at a few paces from the road, ready for the reception of every particle of fertilizing matter which may be found in their vicinity, and I have seem where, as occasionally happened, the tub was slightly screened from view, an announcement stuck upon a pot informing the passer-by as to its whereabouts. It does not cost the government a farthing to keep the roads in this cleanly condition, for the value of everything in the shape of manure in Japan is such that the children from the nearest cottages are continually running up and down seeking what they can pick up.
These cottages, or, as it would be more correct to term them, huts, are little low wooden sheds, which must offer a very pool shelter to the inmates from the inclemency of winter, which is very severe, and especially against the bitter cold winds, which not unfrequently blow for days together. I looked into some of those we passed, and found they consisted for the most part of a single apartment, in which the whole family lived and slept, though how some of the families I saw managed to stow themselves away was to me a mystery. It is fortunate for them in this respect that the air can circulate through so easily, or they would suffer greatly from the vitiated atmosphere they would have to breathe. Even the inns in which we sometimes stayed were anything but models of comfort. Dsetjuma and I certainly got a room to ourselves, but without any furniture whatever in it beyond a carpet, on which we squatted ourselves, chatting and smoking until we felt disposed to sleep, when we merely stretched ourselves out and dragged a rug over our bodies, and we were in bed. This class of inns, however, are not the rule, and we chiefly met with them when we left the main road, for the purpose of making photographic excursions to out-of-the-way spots. Along the main road itself, the houses of accommodation are both numerous and good, and many of them of very large size. That, for example, in which we spent the first night of our pilgrimage, would have accommodated—and, in fact, did accommodate—more than a hundred persons. It would not have been large enough to lodge the same number in Europe, but the Japanese have peculiar notions of what is necessary, to which we are not accustomed. We were shown into an apartment at the back of the inn, overlooking the garden, having a spacious balcony, in which we could sit and drink tea and smoke undisturbedly, to our heart’s content. The sweet smell from the beautiful flowers in the garden filled the air with perfume, which became stronger as the sun went down. Scattered about the garden were groups of travelers, and others, who were all engaged in smoking, easting sweetmeats, or playing a game which resembles chess. Everybody seemed happy; and it was pleasant to the eye to see among some of the groups women whose quiet, graceful behavior made them very attractive, and so much the more dangerous for the inflammable hearts of the Japanese. We soon got tired of looking down upon this scene from our elevated position, as if we were philosophers who had reasoned ourselves into a thorough conviction that all these things were vanity, and beneath the notice of thinking individuals, so we mutually agreed that it would be a change for the better to mix among them, and inspect them more closely. We found that none of the men were of the lower classes, but comprised a sprinkling of every other. These were merchants, officials, officers, commercial travelers, and shopkeepers. Their behavior towards each other was polite and agreeable, very much what it is in any country where people are accustomed to sit together in large numbers out of doors. Their drink was mostly tea, but a good many of them had a sort of beer, which I did not like much, but which was not unlike, in taste, the inferior kinds of beer they sell you in Holland. Others had various coloured syrups, which they mixed with water, and which make a far more palatable beverage than either the beer or the tea. As regards the latter article, I must say that I have drunk far better tea in Europe than here where it is grown; the reason, I believe, is, that they stew the leaves and dip the liquor out as it is required; however, the people seem to like it, and that is the essential for landlords.
Noticing that there seemed to be a larger assemblage of people at one corner of the garden, I went towards it to see the cause, and found that some wandering players were going through a performance in a summer-house. There was a man, seated on a raised seat, dressed in Chinese costume, with a bamboo umbrella over his head, looking gravely at three women and a boy, who were supposed to be going through the representation of a very tragical event in Chinese annals. The piece was nearly over when I joined the spectators, but I learned from Dsetjuma that two of the women had stolen the boy from the third woman, who had at last found them out and had them summoned before a Chinese magistrate, who, apparently, could only form a just appreciation of the merits of the case through the medium of their salutatory qualifications. At all events, the two women went through a considerable amount of exercise of this kind, and were followed by the third woman, who performed a pas seul, which had the effect of convincing the judge that she was the rightful owner of the boy, whom he ordered to be given up to her; after which exercise of his judicial functions he rose and left the court. But the performance did not end here. The mother expresses her joy in a dance accompanied with gestures and pantomime, which called down uproarious applause from the spectators, and, when she had finished, turned to the two female culprits over whom she had triumphed to demand her son. One of them, by the way of reply, withdraws a covering from a heap lying on the floor, and shows the horrified mother her son. I expected to see her throw herself on his body and the exhibition to terminate amidst a general shedding of tears; but it was not so. The two women went through their triumphal dance in their turn, and concluded amidst the most enthusiastic applause. The plot was simply a peg on which to hang sundry dances, which were the real attractions, to the Japanese. I saw nothing to admire in them myself; the dresses they wore were so long that the feet were concealed, and their movements were rather expressive than graceful. The spectators, however, seemed of a different opinion, and gave liberally to the performers when they came round to make a collection. All three of the women were young, and two of them had considerable pretensions to what is considered beauty here, and an air of modestly which surprised me after what I had just seen.
We next walked round the inn, and I was astonished at the number of rooms it contained. Its appearance as regarded from the street was rather contemptible, for its width was very small comparatively; but it was in its great depth that the secret of its capacity was contained. A wall appeared to run from one end to the other through its centre, and this wall formed the end of each room, the sides of which were made of mats or sliding shutters, which could be thrust back at the option of the persons occupying the different rooms, so that we were able to see from one end of the building to the other through all the rooms, all of which opened on the balcony of which I have spoken. In winter all these apartments are closed and are warmed in a way which is exceedingly unwholesome, and inasmuch as I dare say your readers have never heard of such a contrivance, I will describe it in a few words. In the middle of the room there is a square hole in the floor, about four or five feet deep; this is lined with clay, and in it hot ashes are placed, a grating being placed over the opening, to keep anything from falling in I presume. I thought, when I was first told of this method of heating rooms, that I would rather suffer any amount of cold than sit in one so heated, but since then I have been so intensely cold, after riding several hours, that I have enveloped myself from head to foot in a rug, only leaving my face uncovered, and have sat on the grating itself. (To be continued)[p. 92-93]
1859: PNews, Oct. 28, vol. III, #60, p. 92-93:
Through Japan With A Camera* (From our own Correspondent)[Pierre Rossier]
(*Continued from vol. III p. 82)
I had seen what appeared to me very much like carrying cleanliness to excess in Holland, but not even there did I ever see such scrupulous cleanliness as we met with in this inn, and, indeed, generally; but I was not so much struck with it afterwards, as in this particular instance, probably from greater familiarity. I thought, on looking at the interior of the rooms, at first, that the inn must be quire new, but it was not; the brightness and purity of everything arose from careful cleaning.
After the play was over, and we had refreshed ourselves, we walked down the village, in order that I might have an opportunity of seeing the poorer class of people. We found the street lined with men, women, and children, who were chattering away in the most good-humoured manner with each other. There was nothing which sounded like quarrelling; and even the very children seemed to show a degree of consideration for each other, wholly different to what I had observed among them in other countries. Such swarms of little laughing imps I never saw; to judge from appearances, every house must have averaged seven or eight in family. It was a pleasant sight, and far more gratifying than anything I had seen in the garden at the inn, to see the little ones climbing about their father, or a merry-faced, laughing fellow sprawling on the ground, and almost buried under a heap of boys and girls. And the little things were so polite and well-bred, too; the strangers were no sooner seen, than they sprang to their feet, and quietly saluted them as they passed—as, indeed, did their seniors also. I suppose the followers of Malthus would be very much shocked if they saw the numerous families which the poor Japanese generally have. How they live is a mystery to me. I have seen families of eight and ten, whose only known means of support were derived from a piece of ground less than one-fourth of an acre in size, and yet they seemed contented and happy. As we were walking along, we came to a poor-looking eating-house, where, besides stewed and baked snails, and other delicacies of a like kind, were a number of small cakes, all of which we bought for distribution among the youngsters, to their intense gratification, and, apparently, quite as much to the gratification of the grown-up people, who stood looking on. When the stock was exhausted, and we had paid the cost, we found it was getting dusk, so we returned to the inn, and as it was very hot, and we did not feel disposed to sleep, we stretched ourselves out in the balcony, and alternately looked at the stars and at the parties who were amusing themselves in the garden, until I fell into a sound sleep, from which I did not wake until after day-break. I was rather puzzled, on first waking, to find myself out of doors, but I had only to look at surrounding objects to recognize my position at once. I looked around for Dsetjuma, but he had disappeared. I did not trouble myself to seek for him, but dropping from the balcony into the garden, I sought out the bathing room, and, after a few minutes occupied in getting the fire to burn up, so as to generate a sufficient amount of steam, I unfastened my belt and let my clothes—which consisted of only two garments—fall to the ground, and crept through a narrow opening, which was immediately closed by a sliding panel, into the steaming room. The upper part of this room was so built that the steam could not escape, but around the lower part were fitted shutters which worked in grooves, and behind these shutters was close lattice work, so that the person undergoing the process of steaming could himself reduce the temperature of the room, if he felt disposed to do so. The centre of the floor was likewise formed of lattice-work, and it was through this that the steam was admitted into the room. The steam was impregnated with an aromatic smell, which was communicated to it by passing it through crushed plants. I did not much like the smell, but its effects were peculiar. It communicated a powerful stimulus to the nervous system, which lasted for some hours, which the Japanese, no doubt, find very agreeable, but which induced me to avoid the use of it afterwards, and to confine myself either to the cold bath, or, after a day’s hard exercise, to the warm one. After as much steaming as I could endure, I pushed back the panel, and, going into the adjoining room, plunged for an instant into a big tub full of cold water, and, before the delicious sensation which this caused had gone off, I rubbed myself dry, and stepped out into the world a freshly-made man.
The atmosphere of the garden was full of the most delicious perfume, which was emitted from the flowers as the warm rays of the early morning sun fell upon them, and men were sitting about in it enjoying their existence, and sipping tea as they waited for the bathing rooms to be evacuated by the batch in possession. I was taking a turn round the garden, when I came upon Dsetjuma in the act of fixing the tent. He was surrounded by a group of curious individuals, who seemed much puzzled by the appearance of the tent, but did not take much notice of the camera, which, he told me, they imagined to be a new kind of instrument for surveying. I did not interfere in the operation at all, being interested in seeing what sort of a result he would obtain without assistance; and I was not much surprised when I found that the plate was covered with markings of a metallic character, as well as with sundry stains, which rendered it quite useless. He seemed very much discouraged by his failure; but a second attempt, in which I assisted him, being more successful, he recovered his spirits; and, as soon as the plate had been properly developed and fixed, he could not resist giving himself the pleasure of taking it outside and showing it to his countrymen. Loud were their expressions of admiration and astonishment when he held it up; and it gave me n excellent opportunity of observing the consideration those people have for each other. Instead of crowding one upon the other, and so preventing anybody from seeing satisfactorily, themselves included, they gave way to each other; and, though they continually returned to the charge to have another look, they were just as willing to give way, as soon as they had glanced at it. Dsetjuma had some difficulty in answering their questions, many of which, indeed, he could not answer at all, seeing that there are no words in the Japanese language capable of rendering some of the words required to express the theory of the formation of the heliographic picture, and the names of the substances employed, ad, even if there had been, it is not likely he would have been understood. (To be continued)[p.104]
1859: PNews, Oct. 28, vol. III, #60, p. 95-96:
Photographic Notes and Queries.
Binocular Vision and the Stereoscope [by “Nemo”; most is technical information not transcribed here. Only section on bi-colouration has been copied]
“…With regard to colour the result is curious, but just what might be anticipated. If coloured wafers are experimented with, it will be found, on the coalition of the forms, that the resulting colour is what would be obtained by the ordinary mingling of two colours, viz.—a blue and yellow wafer produce a green; a red and blue, a purple; and a yellow and red, an orange. A stereoscopic slide of mosaic pattern might be made to illustrate this property, and form a pleasing addition to the wonders of the stereoscope. The squares and triangles composing it, should be coloured in different hues, so as to produce the effect desired by the union of the colours.”
1859: P News, Nov. 4, vol. III, #61, p. 99-100:
Critical Notices.
Photography from the Philippine Islands. London: Negretti and Zambra, Hatton Garden. [Photographer was Pierre Rossier]
The time seems rapidly approaching when, without stirring from our own firesides, we may be able to see the most distant corners of the world in miniature in the stereoscope. In proportion as the appearance of the camera became more common in Egypt and the Holy Land, the more adventurous photographers turned their steps to more distant and less known countries. Even the jealously-guarded countries of China and Japan cannot shut out the camera; and the pictures we have received of Chinese people, costumes, and buildings, will, before long, be followed by others of Japan. It even appears that at least one photographic firm has thought it a safe speculation to send its own special photographer [NOTE: research by Terry Bennett has identified the photographer as Pierre Joseph Rossier] on a roving commission to the East in search of novelties; and it is to the enterprise of this firm that we owe the beautiful transparent glass positives of which we propose to give some account, not merely because of their superior qualities as stereograms, but also on account of the singular scenes they depict, and as being illustrative of the risks photographers are willing to incur in their desire to obtain pictures of rare or unique character.
The photographer, a portion of whose works we have before us, left Canton, according to his instructions, and proceeded to the Philippine Islands, which, for the benefit of those photographers who may have forgotten a portion of their geographical lore, we may mention, are a group of islands in the Asiatic archipelago, belonging to Spain, the chief of which is Manilla. These islands are of volcanic origin, and possess a chain of active volcanoes, and among them is one named the “Taal Volcano,” situated at no great distance from the city of Manilla. This volcano stands in the middle of a lake, and, to reach it, it was necessary to have a canoe; and in this somewhat doubtful craft the photographer embarked, with his tent, camera, and other etceteras, at midnight, with the object of reaching the volcano early in the day, as its size is considerable, probably not much less than half a league, and it was likely to occupy several hours in exploring and photographing it. His primary object was to get a negative of the crater; accordingly, with the assistance of the guides, he pitched his tent on a suitable spot, but the heat was so great, and the steam, which rose through the fissures, so dense, that, to escape suffocation, he was obliged to give up the attempt there, and seek another spot where these inconveniences did not exist to so great an extent. The first four plates he exposed were failures from over-exposure, in fact, were quite black, though plates exposed on the mainland on the previous day for the same periods—thirty and forty seconds—were exactly what they ought to be, chemicals and all other substances being apparently identical. His next attempts were guided by this discovery of the difference in the atmospheric conditions, and the negatives from which the pictures before us were printed were taken in four seconds, the acceleration being, as he seems to suppose, in some measure due to the presence of sulphurous vapour in the atmosphere; a rather singular circumstance, as it would be imagined that this would retard rather than hasten the activity of the chemical rays, or, at all events, would exercise such an influence on the chemicals employed as would prevent the proper productions of the picture. It is not a little remarkable that in the portion of our Japanese correspondent’s journal which we print to-day he makes the remark that there was a strong sulphurous smell on one occasion when he took some views of the crater of a volcano, though he does not seem to have had any idea that it would affect his pictures in any way. Apparently, however, there is no comparison as regards magnitude between the hill of which he speaks and the Taal volcano, nor does it seem that he was affected by the sulphurous vapours to anything like the same degree as the gentleman whose pictures we are now considering, who found them so strong that even his guides made an irruption into his tent, in the hope of escaping from their unpleasantness. The presence of sulphur in considerable abundance in the water may be inferred from what he says of the appearance of the land on the margin of the waters of the lake which surround the volcano, as well as of that which surrounds the waters contained in the craters themselves, which, he says, present a greenish white appearance, from a substance caked like ice on the edge of a pond. This probably arises from the evaporation of the water, leaving a portion of the surface which it covers, at, and for some time after, the rainy season, bare; the sulphur it holds in solution being deposited on the source which forms its bed. An attempt was made by him to obtain a bottle of this water from the basin of the inner crater, as well as to make a closer examination of it; but he had become so weakened by perspiration, from the intense heat to which he had been subjected since landing on the volcano, that he was unable to make the exertion. However, that Mr. Negretti’s scientific friends might have an opportunity of analysing it, one of the guides was lowered, by means of a rope, and was hauled up again, bringing a gourd-full of the water with him, the temperature of which was found to be 110˚.
All the trouble and even risk, which the photographer encountered in this expedition to the Taal volcano, was undergone for three negatives, of which he could not even take duplicates, owing to the bath getting covered with a black pellicle, which adhered to the collodion film on the plate being lowered into it. Fortunately, the quality of these negatives, combined with the remarkable scenes they depict, must have made him feel that his exertions had been amply rewarded. The positives which have been printed from them have all the sharpness and definition which are characteristic of well-printed glass positives. The different strata are shown with the distinctness which is observable in M. Gutch’s best geological photographs, and every channel which the heavy rains have worn in the walls of the craters are faithfully reproduced. That which we will term No. 1, gives a view of a portion of the volcano between the walls of the inner and outer crater, somewhat in the shape of the moat which surrounds the remains of the castle of Old Sarum, only the inner wall is very considerably higher. No. 2 gives a view of the lesser crater, the sides of which rise to a great height, and are seamed with channels worn therein by the ruins [sic; “rains”?]. In this, also, every detail of the stratification is depicted with the most beautiful minuteness. A small lake occupies a portion of the picture, the waters of which are covered with a white vapour-like steam, its borders being surrounded with the greenish-white sulphurous substance, of which we have already spoken. No. 3 is, however, the picture which is not only the most beautiful, but the most interesting. It includes a more extensive area than either of the others, and near the centre rises the crater from which the smoke is issuing in a dense volume, which sufficiently explains the presence of the sulphurous vapour in the atmosphere.
We have omitted to state that these pictures are for the stereoscope, and, taking all the circumstances into consideration, we are decidedly of opinion that they are the most interesting every submitted to our judgment; and we trust that, for the sake of the enterprising publishers, they will meet with the extensive sale which they merit.
1859: P News, Nov. 4, vol. III, #61, p. 100:
Stereograms of the birth-place, &c., of John Wesley
J. S. Overton, Crowle.
The re-publication of a Life of Wesley, the celebrated founder of the sect which have adopted his name, as well as the interest which attaches to all men who exert a powerful influence over their fellow-creatures, naturally suggests the idea that many will be glad to know that stereoscopic views of his birth-place, and the church in which he was baptized, have just been published. Whether he ever officiated in the church we are not aware, but we should think not, as, at the time he was ordained, his father held the living of Wroote, also in Lincolnshire. It is of this John Wesley that it is said, he rode from forty to sixty miles a-day, reading and writing as he went, and never preached less than three, and often as many as six, times a day! The pictures are very good, and were printed and toned by the process described at vol. I, page 86, of this journal, which leaves nothing to be desired on that score. As this process is a comparatively cheap one, we would recommend it to the attention of our readers.
1859: P News, Nov. 4, vol. III, #61, p.104-105:
Through Japan With A Camera* (From our own Correspondent)[Pierre Rossier]
(*Continued from vol. III p. 93)
As the news spread abroad of the wonderful work that had been accomplished, the crowd became every moment greater, and I began to think we should never get away; however,, we did, at last, manage to get the tent and other apparatus packed up, and, at my suggestion, Dsetjuma fixed the plate on the edge of the balcony, so that all the world might view it in succession, and, cautioning them that they must on no account touch it, we left it there, and went in to breakfast.
If the affair had caused a sensation among the people in the garden, it had caused no less a sensation among the inhabitants of the village. What version of it had reached them I don’t know, but I think it could have lost nothing in the telling, if I may judge from the half reverential, half frightened look with which they regarded Dsetjuma when we mounted our horses to leave. It was quite amusing, too, to see the manner in which they shrank back from the palanquin, while, at the same time, they endeavoured to get a peep into the interior, as if they thought it must be the abode of a demon, though, if there had happened to be one in there only on-half as ugly as some of those they represent on pictures, I must have had the same effect upon them, I should think, as a sight of the Medusa’s head. We had travelled a consideration distance before we were left to ourselves, and, as soon as this happened, we left the high road and took a narrow path running in the direction of a hill of no great height, from which smoke was issuing. You will naturally suppose that it was as pleasant journeying along this bye-road as in your own country, but this was very far from being the case; instead of the fresh smell of the grass and wild flowers, of which there was no lack, the air was loaded with a scent which was neither agreeable nor, I believe, wholesome, but, on the other hand, it was tremendously strong, and in fact it bore the same relation to ordinary smells which ordinary darkness bears to the darkness which fell upon the land of Egypt in the days of Pharaoh; it was something which could be felt. This arose from the land having just received a dressing of a peculiar description, such as we very often met with in our wanderings afterwards, and which, so long as I remained in its vicinity, effectually prevented me from feeling an interest in the country.
When we left the high road, we imagined that we were going to see a volcano, possibly in a state of eruption, and I felt considerable anxiety to get a picture of a natural phenomenon of this kind, as being a representation of an object which it is not given to everybody to see. Our progress was slow, for the road was very uneven, and Dsetjuma had an almost insane dread of his horse tumbling down and throwing him over his head, so that it was well on in the afternoon before we reached the foot of the hill; and as to going up it before we had refreshed ourselves, that was out of the question; besides, it would have been actual cruelty to the men who had been walking so many hours under the blazing sun; we therefore selected a thick tree, and threw ourselves down in its shade, while the bearers were getting out the eatables and placing them before us; and by the time this was arranged, we had each a bowl full of scalding hot tea brought to us, which is customary in almost every house in Japan; they think it gives them an appetite, and stimulates the stomach to a proper performance of its functions; but, though I am not qualified to pronounce authoritatively on the subject, my own opinion is decidedly opposed to this. It always seemed to me to cause an unpleasant sensation of having eaten too much before I had eaten anything at all, so that I failed to do justice to even the finest snails, however delicately they were dressed. By the time we were prepared to resume our upward journey the sun had reached a height which showed me that we had no time to lose, if we were to benefit by the labour we had undergone in coming so far; we therefore pushed on as rapidly as we could, and were not long in arriving at the top. I noticed several fissures in the sides of the hill as we were going up, but I attributed these to the hat of the sun, and thought them of no importance, never thinking there could be any connection between them and the interior of the mountain. The hill was certainly a volcano, but I was disgusted when I found what a contemptible affair it appeared when seen close at hand. The top of the hill was nearly flat, and sloped down very abruptly for five or six yards from its edge on almost every ide. The crater, which was simply a ragged hole, about three yards in diameter, vomited smoke, together with suffocating sulphurous vapours, in a very sluggish manner, the interior being so densely filled as to prevent our seeing more than a few feet down.
As we had come so far, we determined on not going back without having taken a negative. The tent was drawn from its resting-place, and pitched in a suitable position. The tripod was fixed so as to bring the table as near the ground as possible; a plate was exposed in the camera for a suitable length of time, and developed, &c.; a second was taken from a rather lower elevation, which Dsetjuma found while I was developing the first plate, and which offered an opportunity of getting a better view of the crater; and a third and last was taken of a very singular-looking cone-shaped hill, about three hundred yards distant. We were quite two hours in accomplishing this, and when it was done, we rode across to some cottages a mile or so further on, leaving our men and traps to await our return on the hill. It turned out that some persons lived in this little village whom Dsetjuma knew, and he was so deeply interested in communicating with them that he let the time go by without heed, in spite of my occasional suggestions, so that it was quite dusk when he at last became conscious that it was necessary to decide on something; and this did not necessitate much hesitation, since it mattered very little, or not at all, whether we stayed at one place or another; it was therefore arranged that we should go to the hill and bring the apparatus down to the village, from whence we could make our way back to the main road on the following morning, but a different way to that by which we had come.
As the distance was not great, and the evening was very fine, two of the ladies and an old hunchbacked Japanese agreed to go with us, nd though, so far as talking was concerned, my company could not have been very entertaining, we managed to communicate somehow, so that our walk there was a very pleasant one; so much so, indeed, that I had never looked at the point towards which we were shaping our course until my attention was directed to it by Dsetjuma; and then indeed I saw a sight which for singularity surpassed anything I had ever seen. (To be continued)[p. 116]
1859: PNews, Nov. 4, vol. III, #61, p. 108:
Letters to the Editor:
Photographic Patents
Sir,--If you find space in your ‘News’ for the accompanying remarks, it may, perhaps, prevent some one falling foul of a patent, which is anything but agreeable.
Under the head of “Photographic Notes and Queries,” in last week’s ‘News,’ [Oct. 28, #60, p. 95-96] is an article by ‘Nemo,’ on ‘Binocular Vision and the Stereoscope, in which he refers to the mingling of colours in the stereoscope. In this there is nothing new, as, in November, 1856, I obtained a patent for colouring stereoscopic pictures in opposite or contrast colours, which patent directly afterwards became the property of a company, who have, since that time, published a variety of pictures adapted to this method of colouring, one of which I inclose [sicl and I think you will be disposed to admit that the effect of the objects represented could not be so truthfully represented by any other method.
Your correspondent is in error when he says, that in the coalition of two forms of different colours, the resulting colour is what would be obtained by the mingling of two, viz., blue and yellow, producing green, &c. This is not the result. The colours do not mix, but are blended, as in shot silks, pearl, and opalescent substances, each colour, in turn, blending and preponderating over the other, according to the quantity of light, and direction in which it falls on the picture. R. Harmer 10, Union Street, Spitlfields.
1859: PNews, Nov. 11, vol. III, #62, p. 110-112:
Critical Notices.
Stereograms From China* First Notice
[Footnote: *Stereoscopic Views of China from Negatives taken by the Wet Collodion Process by Messrs. H. Negretti and Zambra. Published by Negretti and Zambra, Hatton Garden]
[Views actually by Rossier—Paula Fleming]
While Mr. Albert Smith is delighting visitors at the Egyptian Hall with his clever and amusing description of China and the Chinese, Messrs. Negretti and Zambra are laboring to issue, as rapidly as possible, stereoscopic pictures which may serve to illustrate the places and objects to which he refers. In the notice of the picture of the Taal Volcano, which we gave last week, we referred to the fact of this eminent photographic publishing firm having sent out a photographer [Rossier] on a special mission to the East; and in the prints before us we have part of the results of his labours in that quarter of the glove. China and the Chinese is one of the very few distant countries and peoples in which the Englishman feels a lively interest. As a general rule, his interest in foreign countries decreases in the ratio of their distance from the shores of the “sea-girt isle;” but from different causes China forms an exception, and events looming in the imminent future strengthen this feeling, and will most assuredly heighten it still further before the inhabitants shall have received the chastisement which England proposes to inflict upon them for their brutal attack on our countrymen.
The stereoscopic prints, hitherto published, are from negatives taken in and about Canton’ and whatever may be said of the unfairness of forming an estimate of Chinese character from the manners of the Cantonese, we have never heard it said that in outward appearance, dress, and architecture, Canton and its inhabitants may not be taken as a specimen of what one would meet with in any Chinese town’ it may, therefore, be fairly assumed that these stereograms give us accurate representations of what China and its people are like.
The first of the series we take up is a panoramic view of Canton. This view embraces the city of Canton from magazine Hill, the head-quarters of our troops, to the Canton river, which is represented by a faint streak in the extreme distance; in fact, the extent of the view it includes has given rise to a certain degree of haziness in the most distant part of the picture, which somewhat detracts from its value as a finished print, though it does not destroy the interest with which we regard the representation of the enormous city which stretches away before us.
After the panoramic view of Canton had been taken, the camera was turned towards a conspicuous and interesting object situated on the walls at the extreme end of the city; this was the five-storeyed pagoda—a building which is now occupied as barracks for our troops, whose linen, suspended from lines carried along the upper storeys, is as distinctly represented in the picture as the building itself, notwithstanding the distance from which it was taken. Judging of the city wall, from its appearance in this picture, it must be of a formidable character, and of considerable strength, the ground on which it stands sloping down to a great depth. A road, bordered by trees on the one side, and by stones regularly placed on the other, leads up to the pagoda, and between it and the wall we see a cluster of houses, the external appearance of which differs but slightly from the slated cottages we meet with inmost villages in England. It will give some idea of the fidelity with which objects are depicted in this print, it we mention that in the most distant part of the wall we can readily distinguish the embrasures. In occupying this building as a barrack we have, probably, yielded to a necessity, but it must greatly exasperate the few natives who possess any religious feeling.
The view of the landing place at Canton is an exceedingly interesting picture. In the foreground we see a couple of Chinamen squatted down beside their palanquin, the centre being occupied by the jetty—the principal use of which, if one were to form an opinion from the print, is to serve as a resting place for idle natives and dark-skinned sepoys, who are seen in the very attitude in which we are accustomed to behold the figures of their gods.
At the end of the landing place stands the commissariat house, looking very much as if it had been formerly used for purposes of refreshment—an idea which is strengthened by the appearance of a white-clothed sepoy standing cross-legged in the doorway. In the water we see sundry buildings supported on piles, and right across the river houses and junks in abundance, while along the edge are heaps of bombshells, which our men rolled into the water because they were useless—a work of supererogation, as it seems to us, because it would surely have been better to have left the Chinese to find out this some day when they desired to use them against us.
In the Temple of the Five Genii we have a building made of brick, adorned with inscriptions in Chinese characters. From the basement rise numerous columns, which support a roof of the style peculiar to the Chinese. It is very extensive, and we are told the Chinese hold it in great veneration’ indeed, they show you, within a walled inclosure in this building, a hole, which they assert to be the impression of the foot of the Genie of Canton, which was made when he took his flight thence to heaven; but as this hole is about ten feet long and three feet wide, the assertion may with reason be doubted. This temple, being in the Tartar quarter of the city, suffered considerably from the bombardment. It contains the largest bell in Canton, which used to be carefully guarded from access in consequence of a tradition attaching to it, that, whenever it was struck, ill would befall the city. By a coincidence which, under the circumstances, can hardly be considered remarkable, this bell was struck by a cannon ball during the bombardment, and fractured, and it is not difficult to believe that the ominous sound must have produced a strong effect on the minds of the defenders of the city. The panoramic picture taken from the walls of this building exhibits the effect of our shot and shell on the houses in the immediate vicinity of the Temple; roofs are blown to pieces, walls are shattered, and those which still stand look as if it would require very little force to level them with the ground. In the centre of this view is the Mussulman Pagoda, the erection of which is ascribed by local tradition to the son or brother of Mahomet. It is a very lofty building of a circular shape, not unlike the shot tower at Lambeth, but having a smaller circular tower springing from its summits, the view from which must be of very great extent. We get another, though very distant, view of this same tower in a panorama taken from the south gate. The picture shows that this part of the city escaped better than that represented in the print we have just noticed, though a shattered roof ornament and a hole in the roof itself prove that it did not escape unscathed.
A panoramic print, taken from the walls and looking outside the city, is a beautiful picture, which leaves nothing to be desired. The most conspicuous object in it is a building, partly in ruins. This was formerly a prison, and the Chinese troops, thinking it was occupied by our soldiers, made an attempt to blow it up; it so happened, however, that it was not so occupied, and all the Celestials took by their motion was to attract the attention of the British to their presence, who consequently fell upon them, and, before they could make their escape, killed a considerable number. It was at this spot that the braves made a last and vain attempt to retake their city. The appearance of the building attests the force of the explosion, and renders evident the reason our men had to congratulate themselves on their absence when it took place.
In No. 13 we have an excellent picture, which is described as a panorama overlooking Treasury-street, the most prominent object in which is a triumphal arch, one of many which are built over this street. In this picture we have examples of the impromptu manner in which the Chinese sometimes manufacture roofs: three straight beams being brought down from a higher building, and resting on a cross piece of timber, supported by posts, and loose plants being thrown across these beams, the sole use of which must be to give shade, for they are incapable of keeping out rain. The roofs of the houses seen in the panorama of Canton, taken from the south gate and looking to the north of the city, present a very singular appearance. At first sight, one would imagine that they were covered with bomb-shells—closer inspection shows that these are jars; the object of placing them in this curious situation being to render their contents—for they are kept filled with water—available in case of fire; no unnecessary precaution, when we consider the immense quantity of bamboo matting which, as we see in the picture, extends, with few intervals, the whole length of the street. In the view of Canton taken from the walls on the west side of the city, is included the Temple of the Five genii to which we have already referred—the celebrated nine-storeyed pagoda, which occupies the centre of the background. This print illustrates in a striking manner the chances of a bombardment. The eye ranges over an extensive series of house-tops, yet there is only one which seems to have suffered damage, and this has lost nearly half its roof. The next picture as we take up is of a very different character; instead of having to seek for evidence of the effects of our operations, the eye is at once attracted to a heap of ruins. These are the remains of some buildings just within the walls, from which the ‘braves’ used to fire upon our men until they were knocked down about their ears. A sort of canal winds through the centre of the picture, on one side of which are built some rather quaint-looking houses, which are entered by steps from the water. There is nothing peculiarly Chinese in their appearance, but, taken in connection with the surrounding objects, they form a very pretty and interesting subject. Beyond the walls we have a representation of Canton river, with, as we are told, the Island of Honan in the distance; in fact, it is so very distant that we are unable to distinguish it; we have no difficulty, however, n distinguishing the junks scattered about the river, nor the fact that two European war vessels are lying there at anchor.
The view of the south-east suburbs, taken from a small pagoda, is a picture of utter desolation. Brick buildings, with doorways which reach nearly to their roof, but devoid of doors, form the foreground of the scene; not a trace of life is anywhere visible, while the dilapidated condition of some of the buildings is sufficient to prove that the inhabitants did now abandon their dwellings without sufficient reasons. Considering there is a remarkable absence of edifices, the architectural design of which can be looked upon as peculiarly Chinese. In fact, we might almost fancy we were looking over Bermondsey from an elevation on the South Eastern Railway.
A good idea of the height of the wall which surrounds Canton might be derived from a view taken from the west gate. We have here a portion of the wall, in the lower part of which a breach was made by our guns, of considerable dimensions. Its surface is marked, in various places, by the concussion of the balls, one of which, or a shell, passed completely through, as if it had been made of wood. A well-worn path runs along below the fortifications, and in the hollow below this is seen an extensive piece of ground, covered with rows of poles, the use of which is not very evident. In another part, we are shown the present appearance of the west gate itself, taken within the city walls. Beside the zigzag footpath which leads up to it, we discern the fragments of the embrasures, which lie dispersed among the long, coarse grass of the ramparts, those which encumbered the path being thrown in a heap in the hollow between the path and the houses. The same gate, taken from the outside of the walls, presents a far more imposing appearance, and, as a photograph, is also much superior to the other. It was at this point that the so-called braves, who really seem to have some claim to the title, made two attempts to recapture the city, but were repulsed with considerable loss. We get a rather better view of the wall in this picture than in either of the others, and it is very easy to see that it is of considerable solidity, and by no means resembles the pasteboard forts with which the Chinese once sought to terrify us; the discovery of which stratagem has done more to spread the prevalent idea that there is nothing real in China than any other thing. This entrance looks deserted now; but so distinctly is every feature brought out in the stereoscope, that it is not difficult to people the scene in imagination with the struggling mass of men engaged in savage conflict, and to persuade one’s self that one can hear the yells and curses which men give vent to when engaged in the horrid work of butchering their fellow-creatures.
The picture of the south gate gives us a thorough representation of a Chinese building, which is now used as a police station by the English. Beneath the verandah we see a crowd of English and French soldiers, who do duty as police, with a few Chinamen scattered about among them. On a board which has been nailed to the wall immediately over the street, we see, inscribed in well-executed letters, “South Gate—Porte du Sud,” and beneath, in similar characters, which cannot be very intelligible to John Chinaman, “Kwei Tin Mun.” How the Chinese manage to distinguish the commodities in their shops in the street below is rather a puzzle, for we see that the roofs of the houses almost meet across it, and the interval is filled with bamboo matting.
1859: PNews, Nov. 11, vol. III, #62, p. 112:
Critical Notices.
The Moon in the Stereoscope. Photographed by Samuel Fry, Brighton
In our second volume, page 75, we had occasion to notice some beautiful lunar photographs by the above artist. We have recently seen another picture of the same luminary, which possesses some superiorities over those before noticed. The two halves of the stereogram before us were taken respectively on the 23rd of November, 1858, and the 14th of October, 1859, during which interval the moon had varied in longitude and libration about 6 1/4° of her surface. The pictures represent the gibbous moon; and it was a great point in these photographs to represent distinctly the craters and volcanic cones on the western side. Those, owing to the obliquity of illumination, may be seen with the shadows of the opposite edge distinctly thrown across the basin, and very materially heightening the effect. We need hardly say that these pictures, taken as they were at an angle of 6 1/4°, give perfect appearance of rotundity and relief, when combined in the stereoscope, especially when we tell our readers that this angle is equivalent to a separation of the lenses of the photographic camera to a distance of about 22,000 miles! The pictures were all taken at the observatory of C. Howell, Esq., at Hove, near Brighton, whose excellent equatorial was placed at Mr. Fry’s disposal for this purpose.
We have also been favoured by Mr. Fry with a specimen of an instantaneous sea view. It is a representation of a stormy-looking sea and sky. One or two vessels are seen scudding along, and a black, angry-looking cloud to the left of the picture contrasts well with the gleaming sunshine in other parts, and seems to promise dirty weather. The waves are not quite so successful as to sharpness as some we have seen; but the light and shade are very fine, and the atmospheric distance, with the sky, water, and, we might almost say, wind, combine together to make a very effective picture.
1859: P News, Nov. 11, vol. III, #62, p.116-117:
Through Japan With A Camera* (From our own Correspondent)[Pierre Rossier]
(*Continued from vol. III p. 105)
I mentioned just now that I had remarked numerous fissures or cracks in the side of the hill as we were ascending it, which I supposed to be superficial, and which I attributed to the heat of the sun. It appears, however, that I must have been in error, and that these fissures extended to the interior of the hill, for from each of them a pale blue flame was rising similar in appearance to what I had seen more than once in marshy grounds in Holland, but burning with a steadier glare. Every now and then a flame would appear to sink into the ground and disappear, to rise as suddenly a yard or two distant. The side of the hill we were approaching was covered with these lights,, and formed one of the prettiest and most extraordinary spectacles I ever met with. Whether Dsetjuma was accustomed to such sights, and so cared little for them, I cannot say, but certainly he was the first to remark, that if the men had remained on the hill all our things would have been burnt. I had not thought of this before—I had been too much absorbed in looking at a spectacle so unusual to remember that we had left the camera and the other apparatus on the summit. We hastened round the hill as fast as we could, in the hope that we might be able to find a place where it would be possible to scent it without danger; but though it was easy enough to trace a way to the top by which the flames could be avoided, there was always the risk of a flame bursting out unexpectedly beneath our feet. We naturally thought that the men, on seeing these lights bursting out around them, had descended the hill, and were waiting for us close by; but all our attempts to find them were without success. We shouted until we were hoarse, but all to no purpose. Matters were now becoming serious, for there could be no doubt that, if the men had come down, they would have remained close by until we returned; and I, for my part, became greatly alarmed, as minute after minute went by and still we got no sign of them. Dsetjuma suggested that, in all probability, they had laid down as soon as we left them and gone to sleep, and that it was not at all unlikely that they might be asleep there still, and if so, were most likely stifled, or would be before morning. As it is not very difficult to bear the misfortunes of strangers whom it is not in our power to assist, it is possible that I might have returned resignedly to the village if I could have been assured that it had already taken place; but, while there was a doubt on the subject, this was impossible. I first suggested to Dsetjuma that the hunchback might try to make his way up; but no doubt a hunchback sets as much value on his life as an upright individual, notwithstanding the disadvantages under which he labours—at all events, this one did, and when it was proposed to him he seemed very much offended, and taking the two young women, one in each hand, marched off with them. Neither his anger nor the way in which he had shown it was a thing to notice at that moment, when we were thinking of a matter so much more important, consequently, we scarcely noticed that he had left us, but gave ourselves up to a serious examination of the sides of the hill, to ascertain if there were not a way by which we might venture up without very serious risk. At last we found, by steadily watching one side of the hill, which appeared to us to be most free from flame, that the flames did not appear and disappear here as we had noticed on other parts, but still they did so sufficiently to make the ascent one of danger; however, it was impossible to bear this state of suspense, so, belting up my robes, and rolling a quantity of a creeping plant, which grew in great profusion on the spot, round my feet and legs, I commenced my way up. The flames did not rise to a height of more than six or eight inches, and I was very glad to find that they were not so close together as I had imagines so that I did not in reality incur so much risk as I had anticipated; nevertheless, there was always the fear that something dreadful might happen at any moment which might cause my destruction—in short, there was the fear of the unknown.
I dare say I was not long in getting to the top though it seemed a long time to me, and, on reaching it, I looked first at the crater, expecting to see flames bursting forth, but there were none visible, and no more sign of its being alive than I had already seen; neither were there any flames rising from the surrounding surface, though the smell which I had noticed, when taking the negatives, was still very perceptible.
The change from the light I had been looking at prevented me from distinguishing objects in the comparative darkness in which I was now surrounded, so that I could not, at first, see whether the man I was looking for remained on the summit or not, but, on my eye becoming a little more used to the situation, I saw some dark objects quite on the opposite side, and to these I hastened, in the full conviction that they were the individuals of whom I was in search, and, to my great consolation, I was not disappointed. They had packed the tent and other things in the palanquin, which we had not ourselves placed there, and then, as Dsetjuma had imagined, they had lain down to get some sleep, after the fatigues of the day; and, most probably, there they would have remained sleeping until the next morning if I had not aroused them, which I did in no very gentle manner. I made them comprehend that they were to follow me with the palanquin, and I led them across to the point where I had ascended, but as soon as they saw the little flames, scattered here and there, they seemed filled with consternation, and it was some minutes before they could summon up resolution to make the descent. What I most feared was, that if they were burnt they would drop the palanquin and make a desperate rush to save themselves.
To avoid this, I took hold of the fore part of it myself, and so prevented them from going too fast, and either breaking the bottles or glass plates, or dropping the whole concern. We were about half-way down, when the green plant which I had wound round one of my legs suddenly dropped off, and at that very instant one of the flames darted towards it, as if it were a living being. My first impulse was to cry out with the pain; but, when the sudden surprise was over, I found that I was not burnt, and was not even conscious of any pain. I approached one of the flames, but it moved away from me, and, as I pursued it, flickered and went out. I tried another, moving very gently and slowly, and succeeded in getting my hand near enough to satisfy myself that the flame was without heat, or nearly so, and I no longer hesitated to pas my hand quite through it, and found, on doing so, that it only communicated a slight sensation of warmth to the skin, so that all my alarm had been without cause, and I was even disposed to doubt whether, instead of smoke, it was not steam which was issuing from the summit of the hill.
(I may as well mention here that we passed this hill some weeks afterwards on our retur, and after nightfall I rode over to inspect these lights more closely, with a view to discovering their nature, if possible; but not a single light was visible. I waited there upwards of an hour, and finding that none appeared I rode back again. I am not sufficiently versed in such subjects to venture an opinion as to the origin of this light. Its nature I presume to be the same as the ignis fatuus, but I never remember to have read that this gas is found anywhere except in marshy places. I made what inquiries I could through Dsetjuma, but none of those to whom he spoke on the subject had seen it, except at rare intervals. The only antecedent fact which might be presumed to have some connection with the phenomenon was that there had been, two or three days before we visited it, a heavy fall of rain.)(To be continued)[p.130]
1859: PNews, Nov. 11, vol. III, #62, p. 119:
Letters to the Editor.
Patents for Bi-Coloured Stereograms.
Sir,--Permit me to assure Mr. ‘R. Harmer’ that I have no desire to fall ‘foul of a patent’ myself, or to instigate any of your readers to commit so dire an offence. I must plead ignorance of the existence of his patent for colouring stereograms in ‘contrast colours;’ what I related was the result of my own experiments, and I made it public, through your excellent journal, from the feeling that all should add their quota to the general stock of science; and, remembering what would have been the result, had the discoverer of the collodion practice of photography obtained a patent for his renowned process, I did not dream of putting a lock upon my supposed discovery, though I saw that it might be turned to some commercial benefit.
I am pronounced to be in error when I state, that, on the union of two forms of different colours, a new colour is produced. This is hypercritical. ‘R. Harmer’ says they ‘do not mix, but are blended,’ which means much the same as my own statement. I believe both of us are right. It is not in the nature of the experiment to expect a steady, permanent colour, because of the differing powers of the two eyes and the manner in which the light may be reflected, causing the one or the other colour to be dominant. But I hesitate not to say, that if the powers of the eyes are balanced and sustained, the light evenly diffused, and the colours uniformly spread, that a genuine colour will be the result.
In nature we have only the three primary colours, and it is probably, that when any object appears of a secondary colour, it is caused by the power of the elementary molecules of the substance—which in all cases, excepting of course the simple bodies, are of more than one kind—to absorb and reflect different portions of the constituent colours of solar light, which are blended into one colour by the eye receiving the reflection, and by this stereoscopic experiment we obtain, as it were, an analysis, or rather a proof by synthesis, of the way in which the different colours of objects are produced and combined. Nemo.
Patents for Bi-Coloured Stereograms.
Sir,--A correspondent, in your last week’s issue, remarks that ‘there is nothing new’ in ‘Nemo’s’ communication, regarding the mingling of colours in the stereoscope, as he (your correspondent) obtained a patent for colouring stereograms, in opposite colours, in November, 1856.
If I rightly understand your correspondent, that his patent was simply for the use of different colours on the same part of each half of the stereogram, so that such colours should blend in the stereoscope, producing, in draperies, &c., a shot effect, it may interest some of your readers to know that there was ‘nothing new’ in such patent even in November, 1856, as I coloured and issued stereoscopic portraits, on the same principle, as early as 1853; and, if I remember rightly, some of my professional friends did the same about the same period.
If prior publication invalidate a patent, as I believe it does, your readers, who are anxious to experiment in this direction, may do so without any fear of ‘falling foul of a patent.’ G. Wharton Simpson.
1859: P News, Nov. 18, vol. III, #63, P. 124-126:
Stereograms From China* Concluding Notice. (*Stereoscopic Views of China from negatives taken by the Wet Collodion process by + Messrs. H. Negretti and Zambra. Published by Negretti and Zambra, Hatton Garden [+photos were not made by Negretti & Zambra but by Pierre Rossier]
Everybody, it is to be presumed, knows what a joss house is; but if there are any who do not, we may state that it is a temple devoted to the worship of an idol, or joss—a cheap form of worship, involving little beyond the occasional expenditure of two or three copper coins for a stick of incense, or the exertions of a little manipulatory dexterity with scissors and paper in the operation of cutting out figures of animals, &c., which, being duly offered up before the joss, the god is supposed to take the semblance for the reality, and to give the sacrifice credit for having presented him with a fat ox or horse, as the case may be. The Chinaman is not gifted with any strong religious feelings; his code of morality consists mainly in fine moral sentences, which are always in his mouth, but which have very little influence on his conduct, which is regulated by other considerations. There was a time when it was otherwise, and when tens of thousands of them were sacrificed for their firm adherence to the Christian faith; but circumstances are changed now, and Chinamen, generally, care little for their gods. If the religious feeling was strong among the Chinese, we should regret to see so many of their religious edifices desecrated by being occupied by our soldiers; as it is, we feel indifferent on this point, and regard only the pleasure we derive from an examination of the beautiful representations of them in the stereoscope, which we owe to the enterprise of Messrs. Negretti and Zambra. We have a perspective view of a joss house, and a front view of a joss house; and, finally, one of the joss itself, and the numerous little josses, male and female, who are perched on a shelf, or pole, a little in the background. To begin with the perspective view of the joss house. This picture represents the general appearance of the building, as seen at a short distance from the steps which lead up to the terrace on which it stands. The roof is highly ornamented with all kinds of fantastic figures; and beneath the eaves, and carefully screened from the weather by sloping penthouses, are carvings and bas-reliefs of a kind which induces us to regret that the photographer did not make them the subject of special pictures. On the top of the steps is seated a Chinaman, apparently engaged in the same occupation as the peasant boy in Murillo’s celebrated painting; a second figure stands against the door, which, but for the rifle beside it, we should take for a Greek statue in the most primitive of costumes; and a third stands just inside, “bearded like the pard,” and dressed in the garb of a naval officer. We next come to the front view of the joss house. Here we have a much sharper picture of the building, and one on which the ornamentation is much more distinct. On each side of the open doorway are carved representations of a procession of tributary princes setting out to visit the Emperor, with elephants, horses, &c.; and on the other side is represented their reception by that potentate. There is a singular effect perceptible in this print; just beside the door there is the appearance of a man in uniform, who looks as if he had been flattened against the wall, and had left only an impression of himself behind. This building is now occupied by the 70th Regiment of Sepoys. The joss of which we have spoken does not inhabit this joss house; it is located in the Buddhist Temple, on Magazine Hill. It represents the Goddess of Fecundity, and is very much in vogue among the female worshippers of Canton. On each side of the figure, a little in the background, are two statues with Tartar physiognomies, and a very jovial expression of countenance; while a little more in the rear is a crowned female figure, a fac-simile of the statue of Queen Elizabeth in Fleet-street. On the ground before the throne, on which the joss is seated, are arranged a number of pots containing votive offerings of plants, chiefly aloes, whose wretched and withered appearance speaks of the absence of those who at one time tended them. The face of the goddess seems to have a thoughtful expression, but it is bent so low that it appears in deep shadow, and consequently it is not easy to distinguish the features. The attitude is graceful, and the drapery artistically arranged, allowing us to distinguish that the foot is of the natural size, and has not been mutilated in the fashion which has existed for the last few hundred years, though the hands are disfigured by the enormously long nails which it is still the costume to wear, as indicative of the individual being above the necessity of supporting himself by manual labour.
We have, beside the joss house referred to above, a view of another, or perhaps it would be more correct to say the remains of another, in a different part of Canton. The foreground is nothing but a heap of bricks and rubbish, the centre and background being occupied by the part of the building left standing. A group of individuals of different nationalities are intently staring over the broken wall into the interior, while beside the doorway stands “at ease” a British soldier, whose cloth tunic and trousers would induce one to think that such a condition must have been impossible for him in such intensely hot weather. Just inside the doorway we get a glimpse of the phantom of a Chinaman, one might fancy the ghost of a departed bonze, who had returned to gaze on the damaged remains of the fine building, where he once tended the altar of his god. The ruinous condition of this building is not, however, so much owing to the bombardment as to the act of one of the “braves,” who, thinking to blow up a number of the enemy, whom he imagined to be located inside, fastened a fuse to a bag of gunpowder, and threw it into the building. The explosion which resulted blew down the greater part of it, and reduced it to the condition we see in the picture.
The small pagoda on the south-east of the city, now occupied by our troops, stands on a mound of light clay mixed with chalk, and formed a conspicuous mark for our artillery, which practiced against it with considerable success, as the condition of the wall round it amply testifies. Unfortunately, with the best will in the world not to damage private houses, our artillerymen could not avoid hitting it occasionally; and the shell which passed it by inevitably buried itself among the houses in the hollow beyond, blowing many of them to fragments. From this small pagoda we pass to one of which everybody has heard, viz., the Nine-storeyed Pagoda. This was erected, according to Chinese historians, 1,300 years ago; in shape it is octagon, and each storey is rather smaller than the one on which it rests. A spiral staircase runs up inside, which is well lighted by the numerous windows that each storey contains; but it is long since anybody ascended it beyond a short distance, owing to its dangerous condition; the last person who made the attempt, we believe, was Major Luard. It is said that this pagoda was formerly surmounted by a model of it in iron, to which a tradition is attached, to the effect that, whenever it should fall, the city would fall into the hands of the Barbarians; it therefore cussed considerable excitement throughout the city when it became known that the model had fallen from its lofty position; an occurrence which took place a little less than a year before we took possession of the city. It is strange that the Chinese should have suffered so conspicuous a monument to fall into the state of decay in which it is at present. On looking attentively at it in the stereoscope, we can see that much of the projecting portions of the architecture has decayed, and, in fact, it has very much the appearance of a ruin.
The next two pictures we take up are views of the Examination hall and the grounds attached. The system of competitive examination being of the most open character in China, there are, of course, an immense number of candidates at each examination, and as each candidate was shut up by himself in a cell, or rather, as we see in the picture, a recess, a great number of these recesses were necessary for their accommodation. The appearance of these cells, as seen in the print, is not unlike long ranges of cattle sheds. They are built in rows, and cover an area the extent of which we are afraid to venture an opinion upon; we can count more than twenty rows in the picture, and we do not think this gives a representation of the whole of them. In each row there are upwards of fifty cells, so that we are able by this means to arrive at an approximate idea of the number of candidates at each examination. As might be expected from the great extent of ground it covers, this establishment suffered considerably from the bombardment, the effects of which are very visible in the prints before us. In one instance, a shell passed clean through the wall which formed the back of a cell and exploded in the range behind, making an enormous gap in that and the range beyond it. In this immediate vicinity of the large building where the commissioners sat to examine the productions of the students, whole rows of the cells have been levelled with the ground, while the building itself, at which the shells were probably directed, has come off almost uninjured.
The Imperial College and grounds form the subject of two succeeding pictures of great merit. From the view of the entrance to the college we are led to infer that it is a building of considerable pretensions. The style is pure Chinese, and has a very fantastic appearance. The wall above the broad arched gateway is ornamented with Chinese characters, and bas-reliefs of figures and animals, and on the roof what appears to be the model of a junk, with a dolphin, or his Chinese representative at each end, standing on his head after the manner of dolphins generally, as may be seen from the cluster which ornaments the gateway of Buckingham palace. In the grounds belonging to the college we see numerous buildings, some of which have a strong resemblance to the cart-sheds we frequently see beside the roads in this country. There is an air of desolation about the place, only one student being visible, and he is sitting with a thoughtful countenance, like another Marius gazing on the ruins of Carthage.
In the view of Treasury Street we are told we have a view of one of the handsomest streets in Canton; and if this be so, we cannot help pitying those of our countrymen who are compelled to live there. Imagine Field Lane, as it used to be hung with strips of canvas covered with hieroglyphics, instead of stolen pocket-handkerchiefs, with a matting of bamboo stretched across from roof to roof, and you will have a very good idea of what a handsome street in Canton is like. We remember once meeting with a Chinaman in this country, and he could not conceal his surprise at the sight of the splendid houses we pointed out to him in the vicinity of Kensington Gardens, though he would willingly have done so if he could, for he had all the conceit which characterises these people, and could hardly be induced to admit our superiority in anything.
Opposite the Parcels Office we see an erection which looks like a gigantic mushroom; this is a palanquin stand, where they wait to be hired, like sedan chairs in London in the days of our forefathers, to which conveniences they bear no very distant resemblance. The bearers are, for the most part, squatted on the ground, so deep in shadow that we cannot distinguish their features, notwithstanding that they have removed their hats—which in shape and size have a close resemblance to the circular shields of the ancients—and hung them on the palanquins. Two of them have ventured beyond the shelter of the mushroom, one of whom is squatted on the stones, and looks very much like a huge toad about to hop, and the other is standing erect, though even in this position his tail almost touches the ground. We are rather doubtful about this latter individual being one of the bearers, as he appears so much better dressed than the others. He wears a long linen jacket with pockets at the side, in which his hands are thrust as if he was a man of a stable mind, black breeches cut in the style of thing worn by the Zouaves, and white linen gaiters which, fitting close to the leg, render the absence of calf painfully evident—a deficiency which seems to exist in the case of Chinese legs generally. As a companion picture to this, we have a group of three sailors, and these sailors—oh! Dibdin and T. P. Cooke!—wear moustachios. We hope they are not English sailors, or we shall begin to think with Sir Charles Napier, that the British Navy is, indeed, going to the dogs. WE have another group, which is rather more interesting than the preceding: it consists of a Chinese lady and two attendants—a male and a female. The lady, who has the orthodox club foot, is seated on a stool in front of a huge tree, with an attendant on either hand. Her attitude is free and unconstrained, if it is not graceful; her right foot rests on the ground, and her left foot rests on the right knee. This position must have been the more easily assumed as she was not troubled with long robes or expansive crinoline; her dress consisting simply of a kind of loose jacket fastened close under her chin, and a pair of very loose trousers. The dress of her female attendant appears a little more voluminous, though not sufficiently so to conceal her body shape. As to the male attendant, there is no apparent difference between his garments and those of his mistress, so far as shape is concerned, the difference, no doubt, being in the material. As regards personal appearance, the mistress has decidedly the advantage, though she has nothing to boast of beyond the possession of a fair amount of flesh, in which her attendants are sadly deficient.
The yamun of Peli-Kwei is an extensive building, making a much better appearance in the stereoscope than in reality. It was here that Colonel Holloway, with only two companies of soldiers, effected a sudden entry, while he was at breakfast. They marched through two or three buildings until they came to one which looked a little better than the others; here they halted; and the rattle of the butts of their muskets on the stone floor brought out an old man to see what was going on. He was dressed in the ordinary blue Chinese dress, and wore a mandarin’s cap, with a red button. This old man was Peh-Kwei, governor of the city and province of Canton, whose portrait forms the subject of the next print we examine. He is a better looking man than the generality of the Chinese, and has a more intelligent countenance. He figures in a group along with Commissioner Parkes, the contrast between whose face and those of the Chinamen in the background, is greatly to the advantage of our countryman. The portrait of the Tartar General represents a burly fellow, some six feet four inches in height, with a countenance by no means agreeable to look upon, and, taken altogether, not wholly unlike the pictures of Henry the Eighth. He looked remarkably fierce when our men brought him down in a procession to the presence of Lord Elgin and Baron Gros; but he is a cowardly fellow, notwithstanding, and took care, during the bombardment, to keep his huge carcass out of harm’s way.
The last group we shall notice includes the Tartar Brigadier-General and several members of his family, and also the good and energetic chaplain of the British army in Canton, Mr. Huliatt, whose exertions in raising a fund to feed a number of was a practical carrying out of the doctrines of the Christian religion which cannot be too highly praised.
Finally, we must not omit to mention the view of Hongkong—a place in which all of us are more or less interested—and which, but for a lucky accident, would have been the grave of every European resident, immediately after our troops and those of our allies had become masters of Canton. It is represented as snugly seated at the foot of a lofty hill.
We have noticed these views of China at great length, for two reasons. In the first place, the vivid manner in which they bring before us scenes so distant, in which every Englishman must feel an interest apart from mere curiosity, renders them exceedingly interesting; and, in the next place, it is evident that unless the publishers have a large sale for them, we cannot expect that they will again send out photographers, at so great an expense, to such distant regions; and, thus, one of the prime uses of photography—the conveyance of information on the subject of people and things we can never see—will cease to be cultivated. In the pictures we have noticed, there are a few which possess defects on which we have not thought it necessary to dwell. These arise chiefly from over-exposure; but it is easy to comprehend the difficulties under which a photographer would labour in a country like China, and it would be hypercritical to judge them by the same standard which we should apply to pictures taken in England, where everything requisite can be obtained, and the climate is, on the whole, so favourable for the photographic manipulations. We would suggest, however, to photographers working in such very hot climates, that the use of one of the dry processes would be especially advantageous for certain subjects, as buildings, for example, and generally for inanimate objects. The great objection to the employment of a dry process—viz., its comparative uncertainty—is, we are assured by several excellent photographers, without any real foundation. Moreover, the same means may be taken to test the condition of the plate as in the wet process; it may be developed on the spot. We do not suggest the adoption of a dry process as a means of saving trouble, but simply because it appears to us that in a country where the heat is so great as to necessitate the use of a highly sensitive collodion, in order to obtain a negative with greater rapidity, there is less risk of the picture being injured by over-exposure.
There is one point to which our attention has been called which is of interest to the general body of photographers. The publishing firm, whose productions we have just criticized, some time since published a series of stereograms on glass, the negatives from which they were printed having been obtained at the cost of a large sum of money. Not very long after their appearance several foreign firms pirated these by superposition, and were thus enabled to sell copies at a much lower price, to the great detriment of the original publishers. We are quite aware that where the law is not capable of giving the injured party redress it would be a mere waste of words to attempt to discourage such nefarious practices by any amount of virtuous indignation; but there is one way by means of which a check may be given to such proceedings, and that is by ordering pictures direct from the publisher, whoever he may happen to be.
1859: P News, Nov. 18, vol. III, #63, p.130-131:
Through Japan With A Camera* (From our own Correspondent)[Pierre Rossier]
(*Continued from vol. III p. 117)
I found Dsetjuma waiting for us t the foot of the hill, and I must do him the justice to say that he appeared to have borne my absence, under the circumstances of risk, which he supposed I was encountering, with great fortitude.
Our way back to the village was not marked by any incident except the sudden disappearance of one of our men, as we were crossing a field close to it. He made a tremendous outcry, and with good reason, for we found he had fallen into one of the tubs of which I have spoken. Luckily, he had fallen across it, and had managed to catch hold of the opposite side, and so saved himself from going in head first, though it did not prevent the greater part of his body from sinking into it. His condition, when he managed to scramble out, was not precisely as if he had taken a bath in otto of roses [sic], and we left him behind to arrange himself in the best way he could.
We found our Japanese friends waiting up for us, and they seemed very pleased to see us back again, and we were not less pleased to see them, after the anxiety we had undergone. The character of the Japanese, generally, is very hospitable, as far as their means enable them to be so. It is true it did not cost them much for the refreshments they offered us, but I fancy that, taking their incomes into account, the refreshment they placed before us must have cost them as much, I proportion, as the more liberal hospitality we should have met with in Europe; but what was wanting in this respect was amply compensated for by their cheerfulness and gaiety, which, judging them by the standard to which I had been accustomed in Holland, bordered on license. The night was considerably advanced when they thought it time to retire to their beds, which consisted of raised couches arranged round the apartment in which we sat. For my part, I had lain down some time before the others followed my example, but it was impossible to sleep in the midst of so much noise; and, even when the lamp was put out, and I had fallen asleep, I was not suffered to remain in peace, for I was awakened by finding that somebody had taken possession of a portion of my couch, and as I did not approve of such close proximity, I was forced to get up; and taking my rug, I rolled it round me, and threw myself on the floor, where I slept soundly until the morning.
I believe I was the first to wake in the morning, and as I never indulge here in the habit I had accustomed myself to at home, of thinking whether it would be better to get up at once or stay where I was for a few minutes longer, I rolled out of my rug and stood up. I looked round the room and was a good deal astonished at seeing the manner in which the sleepers had arranged themselves. I was at first disposed to wake up Dsetjuma rather roughly, but reflecting that it would be impossible to make him feel ashamed of what he could not comprehend to be wrong, I left him to finish his sleep undisturbed.
The sun was not above the horizon when I stepped out of the morally and physically impure atmosphere of the room where we had slept into the fresh, pure atmosphere of the garden. In this, as in all other countries with which I am acquainted, the dawn of day is the most delightful portion of the whole four d twenty hours. There is a peculiar stillness which has a powerful effect on the imagination. It is not the effect produced by the stillness of night, but something entirely different; combined with the feeling of profound repose which rests on everything around, there is the instant expectation of an event which shall totally change the appearance of every object—an event which seems to give life to even inanimate substances. As I stood looking in the direction of the hill from which we had come on the preceding evening, I could perceive the gradual lighting up of the landscape, the stars grew rapidly paler, the sky assumed a less deep blue tint, the birds began to flutter about and twitter, and then a red flush rose on the horizon, and directly afterwards the image of the sun appeared and gave a totally different aspect to everything. I cannot think that the most thoughtless could observe this phenomenon day by day without his moral feelings being elevated; at all events, it is to this I attribute my being able to preserve myself from the contaminating vice which exists in this country to an extent which exceeds that of any other where civilization has attained the same degree of development—a vice which the majority look upon as a virtue I proportion to the capability of the individual to practise it.
The sun had not risen many minutes when I saw men and women begin to make their appearance about the cottages, of which there were probably forty in the whole village. I addressed an old woman, and with some difficulty made her comprehend that I wanted to be shown the way to a river, and, after I had got the information, I started off in the direction she pointed out. The place she indicated was not far from the village, but instead of a river I found it was nothing but a very large pond—so large, indeed, that I knew it must be fed by a stream, although I could not see any point of influx. The water had a clear, dark appearance, from which I concluded that it must be of considerable depth. I selected a spot, beneath a large tree, to place my clothes, and then plunges into the water. In an instant, I felt my arms and head ploughing through the softest imaginable mud. Luckily, in consequence of not knowing, the depth of the water, I had not plunged so perpendicularly as I should otherwise have done, and, therefore, managed to get my head to the surface, just as I felt myself on the point of being stifled. The mud was of a very dark colour, had a strongly-pronounced bituminous odour, and was excessively unpleasant to the taste, as I had ample means of judging. I could not ascertain that this piece of water had any name, nor that it had occurred to the memory of anybody in the village, though they said it was not nearly so high as they remembered it to have been; indeed, unless fed by a stream or springs, the evaporation would very soon render it dry, as the heat of the sun is intense. It is owing to the great heat that I find it exceedingly difficult to get satisfactory negatives. If I do not expose immediately on removing the plate from the bath, it dries before I can get the image impressed upon it, so that it very frequently happens that they are stained. I have no remedy for this, because the substances which would prolong the sensitiveness of the collodion are unattainable, or beyond my reach. What is requisite for practicing photography in this country with success, during the hot season, is a very sensitive collodion, and then great care must be taken not to over-expose, for the energy of the actinic rays is very great. It has occurred to me that the addition of a moderate quantity of refined sugar to the bath might have the effect of preventing the rapid drying of the plate, but I cannot try the experiment, because I cannot get the sugar without returning to Nangasaki. (to be continued.)[p.139]
1859: PNews, Nov. 18, vol. III, #63, p. 131:
Photographic Notes and Queries.
Patents for Bi-Coloured Stereograms.
Sir,--Will you allow me to add a few more lines, which shall be final, on bi-coloured stereograms? The first I coloured, which I have still by me, was in 1849 or 1850, and were the original stereoscopic slides, being diagrams, formed with lines; the effect produced was not what I anticipated, as I expected, by colouring the corresponding parts in primary colours, on the condition of the two a secondary colour would be the result; the effect was pleasing, but not suited to the kind of pictures, and, by the suggestion of a friend, an artist, I laid them aside, until pictures more suited to the effect should be published.
In reply to ‘Nemo,’ it is not very difficult to realise what the result would have been had the discoverer of the application of collodion patented it. A small annual license, paid by those who have reaped, and are reaping, a rich harvest from his discovery, would have placed his family in independence, and rendered the frequent appeals on their behalf unnecessary. I cannot see that the protection of the invention would in any great measure have retarded the practice of the art, but it might, possibly, have prevented the abuse, which you have several times in your journal referred to. From the way in which Mr. G. W. Simpson treats the subject, I am inclined to think he is not aware of the nature and amount of publication required to be proved to invalidate a patent. R. Harmer
1859: P News, Nov. 25, vol. III, #64, p. 135-136:
Critical Notices.
Stereograms from Scotland, By Mr. Archibald Burns, Edinburgh.
That photography flourishes on the other side of the Tweed, we have long known; but it was not until a few days since that we were aware it existed in such perfection as we have evidence now before us to demonstrate. Our enlightenment on this subject proceeds from a series of stereoscopic pictures, which have been forwarded to us by Mr. Archibald Burns, who, if we may take these stereograms as a fair average specimen of his skill, deserves to take as high a rank among photographers as his celebrated namesake among poets. The sites from which the pictures have been taken have been selected with the eye of a skilled artist, and the manipulation is worthy of the highest praise. The plates were prepared by the Fothergill process, and the results are certainly not inferior to any obtained by the collodio-albumen.
We have two views of Burns’ monument, one of which includes Arthur’s Seat, the other Holyrood Palace, both of them remarkable for the sharpness and delicacy with which all the details are reproduced. In the former, we see the tops of the houses which lie in the valley between the monument and the lofty and precipitous crags, across the lower portion of which we can distinguish the footpaths worn by the pedestrian; in the latter, we have a view of Holyrood Palace calculated to give us a higher idea of its magnificence than we had before entertained; and whether we examine the foreground, the buildings, or the lofty hills which form the background of the pictures, we can find nothing to condemn. In the crags we see every fracture, and every little spot on the summits of the hills from which the grass has been worn away is as plainly distinguishable in the stereoscope as if the spectator were on the spot; the most perfect gradation of tone being evident throughout. As to the monument itself, we have as accurate an idea of what it is like as any inhabitant of the ‘gude auld toun,’ and we must confess that we have a much higher opinion of the skill with which the photographer has depicted it than of its merits in an architectural point of view.
In looking at the stereograms of Elgin Cathedral and Melrose Abbey, it is impossible to avoid a feeling of deep regret that such splendid edifices should have been suffered to fall into ruin. In the pictures of the remains of Elgin Cathedral we see the lofty, massive square towers, which from their appearance might well have induced those who saw them when the building was first opened for Christian worship to imagine that they would stand till the day when ‘the foundations of the earth shall be loosed.’ Many of the arches, which still remain to tell that the date of its erection goes back to the fifteenth century, retain the stone mullions intact, which, doubtless, formerly were filled with the stained glass with which our ancestors delighted to colour the luminous rays that entered the sacred buildings, their piety erected, at a sacrifice to themselves which we are incapable of imitating’ while in others we see that they have been completely destroyed—more probably by the hand of man than by the slow operation of time. In fact, during the troubled times of Mary’s reign it was roughly treated, and the Regent Morton actually caused the lead to be stripped off the roof to raise money to help to pay his soldiers in 1568, since which time the noble structure has been left to decay. As photographs, it would be impossible to produce ay which could more truthfully and distinctly represent the present appearance of these ruins, from the lofty towers to the inscription of a tombstone, which informs us that it was erected by Robert M’Lennan to the memory of his son, William. Every portion is rendered with the accurate delineation of light and shade which could only be obtained by an excellent instrument and great manipulatory skill on the part of the photographer. One thing which surprises us, in looking at these pictures, is the crowded condition of the burial ground surrounding the ruins; the monuments to the memory of the dead appear literally to touch each other, and seem to indicate that it must have been used as a place of sepulture long subsequently to the time when the building was used as a place of worship. Even in the interior of the roofless building we see monumental slabs scattered about, commemorative of those who have found a resting-place within the sacred walls; the twin doorway, as Mr. Burns call [sic] it, through which we obtain this view of the interior, being itself a beautiful specimen of architectural skill.
We are told by Scott, that whoever
‘Would view fair Melrose aright,
Should visit it by the pale moonlight,
For the gay beams of lightsome day
Gild but to flout the ruins grey.’
But failing the opportunity of seeing the ruins of Melrose Abbey under the opportunity of seeing the ruins of Melrose Abbey under the favourable circumstances indicated by the renowned writer whose lines we have quoted, we would advise all who have taste to appreciate the beautiful in art to see the pictures of them which Mr. Burns has placed within their reach.
[section not copied on the history of Melrose Abbey]
In the entrance to Glasgow Cathedral we have a fine photograph of a doorway, the picture also including a window which presents a peculiar appearance, such as we never remember to have observed in any picture before. This window happens to be exactly opposite another window at the other side of the cathedral, and the glass being deeply set in the stone frame received a greater amount of illumination from the inside than fell upon it externally; the consequence of this has been to give a most distinct representation of the glass, instead of leaving its existence to be imagined from its invisibility Beneath this window stands a curious and very elaborate monument, bearing a Latin inscription surmounted by a monogram, and above this a death’s-head and crossbones, with the scythe and similar emblems, which one seldom sees except on very old tombstones. The same peculiar effect, as regards the glass, is observable in the upper windows of Roslin Chapel over the south door, and from a similar cause.
The last of the series we have space to notice, is a view of a mass of rocks on the island of Inchkeith. The interest with which we look at this picture is perhaps heightened from the striking contrast it offers to those we have been examining. In the one case we have the elaborate work of men’s hands, in the other the work of Nature—
‘Rocks piled on rocks in savage grandeur rise,’
So that one wonders how the photographer succeeded in reaching the spot from which the picture was taken. Not even in the views we have seen which were taken among the Swiss mountains do we remember to have observed any so wild and rugged as this of the rocks of Inchkeith; while, low down, in the extreme distance, the eye rests with pleasure upon the placid sea, which washes the bae of a precipitous rock of great elevation.
Apart from their great beauty as photographs, few Englishmen could look at these pictures without feeling great interest in them, in consequence of the objects they depict—an interest which would be the greater inasmuch as their distance renders it certain that comparatively few will ever visit the scenes in which they are placed, while our knowledge of the associations connected with them gives them a peculiar charm in our estimation.”
1859: P News, Nov. 18, vol. III, #64, p.139-140:
Through Japan With A Camera* (From our own Correspondent)[Pierre Rossier]
(*Continued from vol. III p. 131)
The greater part of the day was spent in photographing the inmates of the house where we had been domiciled, to their great astonishment, for not one of them could take their eyes from their portraits for more than two or three minutes at a time. I had an excellent opportunity here of getting some negatives of groups, of which I eagerly availed myself. The ladies were not at all unwilling that I should take their portraits, and grouped themselves in the manner I indicated with the utmost docility. With the women of a lower class, I had more difficulty; but I am disposed to think that this was owing to Dsetjuma not taking the trouble to explain matters to them so minutely as he had done to the others; so that it was not surprising that they should feel a certain degree of dread at submitting themselves to the mysterious effect produced by their being stared at for an instant by the great glass eye. I had a great deal more trouble with the men than with the women, because, to hide their nervousness, they would for a long time persist in fidgeting about, by way of showing how much they were at their ease; and when it had been sufficiently impressed upon them that they must remain perfectly motionless from the time when I removed the cap from the lens until I restored it, they made amends for the immobility of their bodies by giving the utmost degree of latitude to the action of their risible muscles, so that I have their faces, for the most part, with a grin upon them, which, if it gives one a high idea of their good temper; renders it difficult to distinguish their features. I have one exception to this, and it is a group which is not without interest in an artistic point of view. Upon the ground a woman is seated, knitting; beside her an infant; while a little fellow, about six or seven years old, is half hiding himself behind his father’s arm, though I managed to get a good view of his face, and to keep him still by putting a heap of coins on the top of the camera, from which it seemed impossible for him to remove his eyes.
So long as we remained in the village all work was at an end; nobody would leave the spot where they could see the wonderful representations of themselves and each other, and loud were their exclamations of astonishment as they recognised some minute point of resemblance to the original which had escaped their attention at the first glance, and when these points of resemblance happened to be of a ludicrous character their laughter was unbounded. It was a real pleasure to see their happiness and excitement.
Having decided on quitting this place, the apparatus was duly packed, and the horses brought to the door; and after innumerable embraces (the Japanese understand kissing) we succeeded in getting away, in the midst of no end of good wishes, and, I fancy, some tears.
From this village we journeyed by easy stages to Stchoun (sic), a larger and more important village than that we last quitted. Our way lay, for the most part, through fields along narrow lanes, which would only just admit of the passage of the palanquin. The scenery was generally delightful, and several pictures we took on our way are as pleasing as any I ever saw, although we met with many more failures than I should like to acknowledge, if we had been working in Europe. As to Dsetjuma, he, novice like, thought every negative a good one, and watched the man washing off the film from the plate with a dejected countenance, and could scarcely be persuaded that a clean plate was more useful than one badly covered. It was fearfully hot work photographing during the middle part of the day, and except when the view was, for some reason or other, unusually interesting, I did not stop to take it; indeed, we generally went to sleep for two or three hours after lunch, while the men were getting their dinner.
The scenery, up to this point, has been very much like what I remember to have seen in your Isle of Wight; whichever way I looked, the view was bounded by hills at no great distance; but there was this difference between the two countries—that, whereas in the Isle of Wight, as in my own native land, one may see almost as much land covered with grass, and dotted with cows feeding, as is used in the growth of crops, here you see fields covered with cereals or other plants, or barrenness. You must not suppose there are no cows at all here, but they are few, and the reason is that the population is so dense that all the cultivable land is required for the growth of rice, or other grain essential to the maintenance of life; and so long as the Japanese continue to pursue their present exclusive system, there will be rather a diminution than an increase in the number of animals bred. I don’t think, however, that this can possibly continue many years longer, unless a very bloody civil war should arise, inasmuch as the population will outgrow the means of subsistence, and it will be absolutely necessary to import rice, of other grain, to a very much greater extent than at present. It is true that the increase in the population is slightly checked in some overcrowded districts by the practice of infanticide; but this is not, as it is said to be in China, a recognized institution; on the contrary, the practice, when adopted, is performed secretly, and with as much precaution against exciting suspicion as if they had the fear of an official inquiry before their eyes; but when the time arrives that the mass of the population find themselves suffering from scarcity of food, I have little doubt that that which is now a comparatively rare occurrence will become common, and the only way in which it can be checked will be by encouraging the importation of grain, and the nation which is in the best position to supple this article will get the principal portion of the foreign commerce of the country in their hands. I have had a good deal of conversation with Dsetjuma on this point already caused by what I have seen of the density of the population, and their mode of living. The masses live almost entirely on rice and lentils, and it is certainly a good argument in favour of an exclusively vegetable diet that they are, for the most part, healthy and vigorous; but, as I have already remarked, the productive capabilities of the land is, as far as I have been able to judge, pushed to its extreme limit already. (To be continued.)[p. 160]
1859: P News, Dec. 2, vol. III, #65, p.150-151:
Through Japan With A Camera* (From our own Correspondent)[Pierre Rossier]
(*Continued from vol. III p. 140)
Dsetjuma’s opinion is, that Russia will eventually absorb the greatest portion of the foreign trade; for this reason, that, in consequence of the vicinity of her possessions on the Amoor river, she will be able to send grain to Japan at a far lower rate than any other nation; and as his country produced everything else they required in sufficient abundance, rice and grain would be almost the only articles they would purchase in any quantity. I asked him if the Russians could grow rice very largely in this territory on the Amoor, but he could give me no information on this point. From the fondness of the Japanese for rice, I argued that any nation which could end that commodity at the cheapest rate would always meet with a better market than one which could send only wheat, and that, therefore, England would get the greatest part of the foreign commerce of Japan, from the facilities she possesses for exporting rice from her Indian possessions in almost unlimited quantities. Dsetjuma was not sufficiently informed on the subject of the commerce of foreign nations to discuss the matter any farther, so he merely remarked that time would show that there was no scarcity in the country at present, and that, except in the case of a failure of the crops, the supply they received already was amply sufficient for their wants, convinced with what the country itself was able to produce.
On another occasion, when we returned to this subject, I sked him if he did not think that if railways were made in Japan, so that rice might be conveyed from the port to the interior at a low rate, it would not supersede the present system, and induce a different method of cultivating the land. He, however, thought it would not. The inhabitants of towns would no doubt purchase this rice while they could get it at a lower price than that grown at home. But this could not well happen, because the large landholders, most of whom derived the principal part of their income from its sale, would resist its introduction as long as possible, and, if eventually forced to yield, would sell at a lower. Price. The system on which land is cultivated in Japan is, he tells me, similar to that which prevails in Russia. The damia, or prince, as we translate the word, is the owner of a large extent of land, in some cases an entire district; this land is cultivated by the people, who, having certain portions of the land allotted to them, pay either a proportion of its produce in kind to the landlord, and give him a certain amount of labour in addition, or they give him a greater amount of labour on the lands he reserves for himself, and keep all that their own allotment produces. This system is modified in certain cases, as, for instance, where the landowner has a mine of his estate. Then he employs men wholly in digging and smelting the ore, paying them by a certain quantity of rice, if it is grown on his estate, or otherwise, in some other form, but usually in produce of some kind; hence he concluded that in no case could the present system of cultivation be superseded, and that the only result of an increased exportation of native products would be to increase the riches of a comparatively small number of individuals.
I have been precluded, by the reason I have stated, from seeking information from any other native than Dsetjuma; but, from his position, I have no doubt that what he has told me is correct, and it enables me to see pretty clearly where the obstacle lies to a more extended foreign commerce. These damias have an immense interest in retaining the monopoly which they possess of supplying the market with almost every necessary commodity, consequently they use all their influence to prevent a free introduction of similar commodities from abroad; and the influence which their riches, and the authority they have over the people on their estates, give them with the Court, is such, that I doubt whether anything can overcome it.
At Stchoun I saw an incident of Japanese life which struck me as being one of the most extraordinary character, and which I should not have believed had it been told me in Europe. We had taken up our quarters at an inn in that place, intending to remain until the following morning, although it was still early in the day. Our apartment, as was generally the case, was at the back of the house, a few feet above the garden. We had dined, and were discussing some questions of Japanese social economy which I did not clearly comprehend, when our attention was attracted by a kind of procession, which was making its way towards an arbour nearly facing us. There was a considerable crowd following, which soon filled the garden, and prevented me from getting nearer, but, from my elevated position I was able to see very clearly all that happened. The foremost of those who walked in the procession was a rather short and stout man, his face having a coarse, sensual expression, which was sufficiently perceptible, notwithstanding the fixedness of his features and the air of determination with which he strode along. On reaching the arbour, those about him stopped, and he entered it alone, and sat down on a low table. I watched his proceedings very attentively, for there was such a serious expression on the countenances of the spectators, so different to what I had been accustomed to see in Japan, that, without knowing what was about to take place, I anticipated something painful.
As soon as he appeared comfortably seated, one of those who accompanied him handed him a pipe, and he took several strong inspirations, drawing the smoke into his lungs and blowing it out through his nostrils; he then handed the pipe back, and drew a knife from some place, and deliberately raising his robes, he, in the presence of the crowd of spectators, made two incisions in his abdomen in the form of an X! The sight made me feel so sick and giddy that I was obliged to throw myself on the floor for a minute or two; and when I had recovered myself sufficiently to look at him again, he was sitting quietly in the same place, his back resting against the inclosure, and nothing in his appearance to denote what had occurred. A great part of the crowd had dispersed, as if their interest in the matter ceased with the performance of the operation. Just then Dsetjuma came up and beckoned to me to come down into the garden, where he had been to make inquiries, and I walked with him to the arbour in which the horrible affair had taken place. We found the wretched man sitting in the attitude I have just mentioned, and quietly and calmly smoking a pipe, as if he was not sensible of pain. I looked at him attentively, but he evinced no consciousness of our presence, and it was very evident that he was near his end, or was under the influence of some powerful narcotic. There was not the slightest movement of any kind; the eyes were fixed, but when I looked more closely into them, they seemed filled with such a deep, strange, unfathomable expression, that I shuddered and drew bac; and not all the endeavours of Dsetjuma to induce me to take a photograph of him were of any avail, although my refusal did not prevent him from making the attempt, which proved to be unsuccessful, from the depth of shadow in which the object was involved.
The occurrence I have just described was so new, and appeared so extraordinary to me, that I endeavoured by every possible means to find out the cause. Dsetjuma was quite as anxious as I to obtain the information, but so many contradictory answers were given to his questions, that it was quite clear those whom he addressed knew nothing about it. His inquiries of the landlord, however, were more successful in getting at the truth, or, at all events, somewhere near it. It appeared the suicide held the post of manager, or what I think would be more correctly expressed as steward, of a mine on one of the crown lands. His duty in this capacity was to take charge of the product of the mine, and after deducting the amount expended in working it, to hand over the remainder to the damia, or chief ruler of the province, to be by him transmitted to the emperor. It happened that this steward, for some reason or other, ordered a flogging to be administered to one of the miners. Who shortly after ran away, and gave information to the damia that the manager kept a portion of the gold back, and that he had it concealed in his house. Upon hearing this the damia caused the miner to be imprisoned, and sent orders to the steward to come to him, and to bring his accounts with him. He was on his way to render the account required, when, either from conscious guilt and fear of the consequences, or—as one of his friends said, who remained with him till his death—conscious of his innocence, he had determined to die, and to case his blood on the head of his accuser, and so bring down upon him the vengeance of the god.
This method of avenging an injury struck me as being so absurd, that I inclined to the opinion that he was afraid to undergo the ordeal of having his accounts examined, and this also was Dsetjuma’s opinion; but, to my extreme surprise, he assured me that such occurrences, though now comparatively rare, were once not uncommon, and attributed their diminution to the disbelief in the gods, which had been growing for many years. I asked him if he remembered a similar occurrence, where the cause of the suicide had been that assigned on the present occasion. He told me he could remember more than one case, where no other reason could be imagined; but that, in the majority of cases, the suicides arose from weariness of life, or to avoid punishment for an offence against the laws. (To be continued)[p. 163]
1859: P News, Dec. 9, vol. III, #66, p.163-164:
Through Japan With A Camera* (From our own Correspondent)[Pierre Rossier]
(*Continued from vol. III p. 151)
As there was nothing at Stchoun, we left it early the next morning with the intention of taking a direction which should being us near the coast, as I had heard that there were several islands very near which contained active volcanoes. After about two hours’ travelling, we came to a large building surrounded by numerous sheds. This was an earthenware manufactory, and, as I had never seen anything of the kind before, we requested permission to go over it, which was readily accorded. In the first room we entered were a number of men engaged in preparing and modelling vessels of different kinds; in the next, young women were painting them in different ways; the coarser kinds were finished very rapidly, but some of the finer were so elaborately done that the process was an exceedingly slow one. It is unnecessary that I should describe all the working processes, because, as I am entirely ignorant of the manner in which earthenware is manufactured in Europe, I cannot tell in what respect the two processes differ, and I might be only describing what is well known; moreover, it is certain that European manufacturers would learn nothing from the Japanese on this subject; for though they have some very fine china, they have none to equal what I have seen at home. Whilst looking at the young women who were so slowly applying the colouring matter required to constitute the representation of a dragon, or some other fabulous animal, it occurred to Dsetjuma that a photograph might be printed on a piece of porcelain as readily as on a glass plate. He mentioned his idea to me, and as it did not seem impossible, I willingly undertook to try some experiments which night lead to such important results as would effect, as I thought, a revolution in ceramic decorations in Japan. The proprietor, as soon as the idea was explained to him, was all impatience to see the attempt made, though he could not possibly comprehend how it was to be done. I was almost as much at a loss myself; but I knew that something of the kind had been done in Paris, and though my recollection of the method was somewhat indistinct, I thought that a few experiments would be sufficient to show if the thing was feasible.
After the greater portion of four days had been spent in experiments, I succeeded in discovering a process of fixing the photograph on porcelain biscuit and this with such exactness and perfection, that the half-tones were almost as delicately marked as on a print from a negative. The process by which I accomplished this was as follows. (The method described by our correspondent differs so little from one which we published a short time back, that it is unnecessary that we should occupy our space by giving it.)
I was greatly delighted with my success, and began to dream of fortune and honour, and I don’t know what besides, which was to result from my discovery. The women seemed to take a special interest in the matter; but I could not help remarking that the expression of their countenances was not quite as amiable as when I was taking their portraits in groups, but I thought this might arise from my paying them so little attention. We were talking over the possible advantages of the discovery, as we sat smoking our pipes, when one of the bearers approached, in the humble manner usual with them, and, after asking his master’s permission to speak, informed him that there was a plot on foot to destroy our apparatus that night, because they were afraid that it might take their business away from them. The man was closely questioned, with a view to ascertain whether the conspirators were few or many, and, according to his account, they included the whole of those employed in the establishment. Under these circumstances, it became necessary to consider and decide at once on what was to be done. I suggested that it would be sufficient to take the apparatus with us into the room where we slept, as they would not dare to force their way in there; but Dsetjuma, who of course knew his countrymen better than I, said that would probably lead to the loss of our own lives, as we should be certain to resist the destruction of our property, and they would not hesitate to knock us on the head, while under the influence of excitement. He ended by saying that he thought we had better depart at once, or the whole object of our journey might be defeated. He gave orders to the men to get the things into the palanquin without attracting attention, if possible, and to let him know when they were ready to start. This was soon done, and we were shortly on our way towards the mountains which lay between us and the coast. We had ridden seven or eight miles without seeing any houses, except a few scattered huts here and there, and were riding along a road shaded by the sun from the trees which bordered it, when, all of a sudden, it became almost dark, as if the sun had been eclipsed, as, indeed, it was, by a dense black cloud moving with immense rapidity. I had seen something before of the sudden storms to which one is exposed in this country, especially when travelling near or among the mountains, but I had never seen one which marked its approach by such threatening, I may almost say awful, appearances as this. The birds left off singing, and the horses pressed closely together, as if for mutual protection. There was hardly time to look round for the shelter which did not exist, for the trees were chiefly firs, of the kind which throw out short ranches at regular intervals, and were, therefore, useless for such a purpose. The palanquin was thought of, but this would not hold more than one, being so filled up with apparatus. The only thing that could be done, therefore, was to put Dsetjuma inside, and for the rest of us to make up our minds to bear the storm in the best manner we could. I felt as if I was standing in a drying kiln, the air was at first so hot and dry; then it became gradually loaded with vapour, and I had just time, by a sudden impulse, to slip off my dress, and thrust it into the palanquin, when we were literally bathed in the most intensely vivid light, the flashes of lightning following each other with such wonderful rapidity that the eye could scarcely recognise any intermission between them. Then came a burst of thunder so loud and long, that it seemed to crush me to the earth. Nobody, who has not heard so fearful a noise, can form an idea of the overpowering effect of sound on the nerves. The horses trembled in every limb, and were so weak that, when I laid my arms upon the back of that I rode, with the intention of mounting him, he literally sunk under the pressure. In a minute or two the rain came down, not in drops, but seemingly in a mass. It beat against my naked skin with a force like that I have experienced when I have thrown myself on the surface of water from a height, instead of plunging perpendicularly into it. The first sensation was delightful, but after it had lasted a few minutes I began to feel cold, and as the horses seemed to have recovered from their fright, under the influence of the water, I mounted, and told the bearers to take up the palanquin and push along to the nearest house, where I would wait for them, forgetting, in the stupefaction caused by the noise and the rush of rain, that I had stripped off my clothes to prevent them from getting wet. Having given them these directions, I rode off in search of this refuge, the rain all the time pouring down in such torrents that I could only open my eyes while I held my hand above them to shelter them. I urged the horse along as hard as he could gallop up the road, which became a rather steep ascent, and had just passed through a hollow, in which the water reached up to my feet, when I was compelled to pull up and turn round, for the rain streamed down my face in such a manner that I was unable to breathe. Raising my head, as soon as I had recovered my breath a little, I looked down the road, and could scarcely believe my eyes when I saw it was a deep, foaming torrent, the hollow across which I had ridden having the appearance of a mill-race. The possibility of Dsetjuma being swept away by that portion of the torrent which took its course down the road occurred to me in an instant, and I rode back to the hollow I had crossed with the intention of going to his assistance, but I found it impossible to get the animal to attempt to ford it. In this dilemma, with the lightning, thunder, and rain raging around me, I thought it was best to seek for a place of shelter, as I felt myself getting very cold, notwithstanding the excitement; so, turning my horse’s head round, I rode away as hard as I could force him to go. The poor beast must have found it almost as hard to see as I did, and it is not surprising that when the road made a sudden curve he, instead of following the road, ran right into the low bank which bordered it with a crash that sent me rolling head over heels into a field, which was converted by the rain into a muddy fluid. I picked myself up as soon as I could, and, covered with mud from head to foot, I staggered back into the road. My horse was standing quite still, stupefied by the shock he had received; I mounted him again, and rode on at the same reckless pace, the rain very soon washing me clean. I think I must have ridden nearly an hour, when my horse suddenly stopped at a house by the roadside. This house turned out to be one of the miserable little inns which one only meets with in Japan, by the side of unfrequented roads. It was crammed with people, not only inside, but under the verandah they were packed as closely as possible. I jumped off my horse, and throwing the bridle over one of the hooks which they fix in the doorposts, and knowing now [sic] whereabouts to find the best room in these inns, I went right through the house and into the first apartment I could see empty. My entrance seemed to cause quite a sensation, for on looking round to shout for the landlord, I saw the passage was filled with wondering faces. When the landlord came, I sent him for some towels to dry myself with; but he, too, stared at me in such a stupid fashion that I felt annoyed, when it all at once flashed across my mind that it was the fairness of my skin that attracted such marked attention. It was not until this thought occurred to me that I remembered the danger I ran of being discovered to be a foreigner, and I determined that if Dsetjuma did not soon arrive I would go to meet him at any risk. From constant instruction, in the course of our journey I had made considerable additions to my knowledge of the Japanese language, and was now able to ask for anything I required, and even to converse slightly, but not sufficiently to sustain a conversation without its being seen that I was not a native of Japan, so I assumed a stern expression of countenance, like that of a man not willing to converse, or likely to encourage ay person in addressing me. The landlord returned in a minute or two, bringing me a dress, followed by a woman with a tray covered with sweetmeats, and, what was really a good thing under the circumstances, a steaming cup of tea. (To be continued)[p.177]
1859: P News, Dec. 16, vol. III, #67, p.177-178:
Through Japan With A Camera* (From our own Correspondent)[Pierre Rossier]
(*Continued from vol. III p. 164)
The landlord asked if I would remain all night. I replied I was undecided, but most likely I should. He wanted to know where I had come from; but such a question, on the part of such a man, was so unusual, that I saw at once he had suspicions of some kind respecting me, and therefore thought it advisable to treat him with a certain degree of contempt, and take no apparent heed of his question. I managed to get a glance at his face as he was leaving the room, without being observed by him, and I could easily see that he was puzzled what to make of me. The colour of my skin induced him to think that I could not be a native; while, on the other hand, the idea that I might be a foreigner could only have occurred to him indistinctly, his country being so carefully closed against us, that no instance had ever been known of a foreigner penetrating to the interior; and but for the circumstance of my presenting myself in such a denuded condition, there would have been no danger of exciting suspicion, now that I had advanced so far.
After I had strengthened myself by eating some substantial refreshment, instead of the insipid sweetmeats they brought me at first, and recruited the animal heat by swallowing more of the decoction of tea leaves than was my usual custom, I lighted a cigar, and walked to the front of the house. Here I found my horse still standing, munching some green peas which had been cut from a field opposite, for I am almost ashamed to confess that, in attending to my own wants, I had forgotten his. However, the storm had passed away, and, except for an occasional sharp gust of wind, there was nothing to remind me of the terrific storm I had so recently passed through. I thought of Dsetjuma, and looked anxiously down the road for him, but there was no sign of his being near. I could not help noticing that I was the object of great attention on the part of the people standing about, though they all drew back, in the respectful manner customary with them, when I came out. I acknowledged their politeness in the usual form, and occupied myself in caressing my horse, praying all the time internally for Dsetjuma’s arrival; but as time crept on and still he did not come, I could bear the anxiety no longer, and going into the house for my cane, I returned, unhooked the bridle from the post, and prepared to mount. I had scarcely thrown my leg across the saddle when the landlord came running out. I told him that I was going to meet some friends, but this did not appear to satisfy him. What he replied I could not quite comprehend, but the sense of it was rendered evident enough by his taking hold of the bridle, and at the same time beckoning to some of the bystanders to come to his assistance. I am strongly opposed to violence of any kind, but I saw that only one course was open to me, and that was to get away at any risk; so, without hesitation, I struck the landlord a blow across the face with my cane, which made him loose the bridle and run back out of reach of a second, and then, without hurry, I rode quietly down the road. No attempt was made to follow me, which convinced me that I had done right in acting as a Japanese of any rank would have acted under similar circumstances.
In proportion as the uneasiness I had felt on my own account wore off, my anxiety respecting Dsetjuma increased; moreover, if anything had happened to him my own fate was pretty certain, especially as I was entirely without money. I reached the spot where the torrent crossed the road, which was now easily passed on horseback, without seeing anything of the party, and things began to look blacker and blacker in my imagination, when I happened to look up a little lane, and there I saw a group of snug-looking thatched cottages, and fastened to the end of one of them a horse, which I at once recognised. Joyfully I rode up the little hill, close to the summit of which the cottages were built, and here, to our mutual gratification, I found Dsetjuma. It appeared that the rush of water had been at first gradual, and this had warned him to take refuge on the higher bank; and after a tedious journey along the fields he found shelter where I had discovered him.
After a few minutes’ conversation I proposed that we should go on to the inn I had left; but the persuasions of the people in whose house he had found shelter, had induced him to promise that he would remain there until the morning, consequently, I had no choice but to stay also, as I felt no disposition to go back alone.
I was not sorry that I was going to remain at these cottages, for the view when we went out, on the sort of terrace on which they were built, was lovely in the extreme. The sides of the hill down which we looked was covered with different kinds of grain and vegetables, chief among which was a kind of bean, bearing pale violet flower. The cultivation extended right across the valley and far up the opposite hill, beyond which rose ominously still higher, and far away in the extreme distance rose the mountains, which it was our intention to traverse to get to the coast. The system of hill cultivation which prevails here in some districts gives an extremely pretty appearance in the country, especially when, as is not unfrequently the case, the summit of the hill is crowned with trees. In the instance of which I am speaking, the trees rose thickly immediately behind the cottages, and presented a dense mass of foliage all the way to the top of the hill. A large number of flowers of different kinds grew around the houses, which if the eye would have equaled, if not surpassed, any I ever saw. I have often tried to understand the reason why so many flowers in this country, which possess such exceedingly brilliant colours, are either destitute of odour altogether or possess one which is not gratifying, and I have sometimes thought that it may be, at all events in part, owing to the filthy manure which they use, which, while it stimulates the growth of the flower, communicates a taint which destroys its fragrance. As some evidence of this hypothesis is not altogether unfounded, I may mention that I have gathered flowers of the same species, though far inferior in appearance, which were growing wild in the hedges that had a faint but still agreeable odour.
I had almost forgotten to mention, that when it was decided that we would remain at the cottages until the morning, Dsetjuma gave instructions to two of his servants to go on with the palanquin to the inn which I had left and wait our arrival, so as to prevent the chance of the innkeeper making any complaint to the authorities respecting me. Before they left I had all the things taken out, and the apparatus carefully wiped dry, for though the palanquin was closed as tightly as possible, the deluge of rain had been such, that it had found its way through every crevice, and completely soaked everything capable of absorbing water.
When all had been done that could be done to prevent damage to the negatives I had taken, the landlord’s dress was thrown in, in which I had so abruptly left his house, and the men started off with their load (no light one, by the way), and we watched them descending the hill, with some regret that they should be forced to travel so far after the fatigues they had already undergone during the day. I cannot help saying a word here in praise of Japanese servants. They are, as a rule, the most willing, docile men I ever saw. Whatever you tell them to do they do it with a cheerful obedience, as if it gave them real satisfaction to serve you, so that it is impossible for a man of any feeling to be tyrannical or overbearing in his treatment of them; and, no doubt, it is owing to this mutual good feeling, that on the one side you find kind, indulgent masters, and, on the other, faithful and affectionate servants. The two men, for example, who had been sent on with the palanquin, tired as they must have been, and knowing how far they had to march before they could rest for the night, looked as cheerful as if they were ordered to perform some agreeable task. (to be continued.) [p. 188]
1859: P News, Dec. 23, vol. III, #68, p.188-189:
Through Japan With A Camera* (From our own Correspondent)[Pierre Rossier]
(*Continued from vol. III p. 178)
I left Dsetjuma in the cottage, and walked away by myself a short distance down the hill, where I rested to admire the beautiful scene which stretched away to the point where it was abruptly closed by the range of hills of which I have spoken. I am not sufficiently acquainted with your country to give you an idea of the character of this landscape by likening it to any in England. I think I never saw anything so beautiful in my life before; perhaps, however, I was more impressed by it in consequence of the aspect under which I sat it, presenting so great a contrast to what I had experienced during the day. Instead of the lightning, thunder, and rain, there was a stillness which inspired a certain degree of awe. The various tints of the fields seen under the light of the sun, as it set in a clear, unclouded sky behind the hills, was a sight to remember. The change from day to night was so rapid that almost before this picture had faded from my eye, the details of my landscape were hidden, and I seemed to be looking at the same view through a veil. The sky was clear, and of a bright dark blue, in which the stars shone with twice the lustre they ordinarily exhibited, and directly afterwards the moon rose and threw her white rays over the landscape, which they rendered inexpressibly beautiful. Instead of the hot, stifling atmosphere of the morning, the air had become deliciously cool and refreshing, though there was not a breath of wind stirring. I think, judging from my own experience, that the landscape photographer is, of all men, he who derives the greatest pleasure from observing the wonders and beauties of Nature. The exercise of his profession teaches him to appreciate these beauties, without wearying his mind by studying how best to convey these effects on canvass, as in the case of the painter; he is, consequently, free to indulge in the sentiments which such scenes naturally excite.
Glow-worms were scattered about, around me, which glittered among the grass like emerald-tinted sparks of fire, and, every now and again, I heard the low, musical sound emitted by an insect common in Japan, but which I never heard except at night, the sound resembling the very low note of a bird. I don’t know how long I saw meditating on the ideas which could not fail to be engendered by the beauty and silence of the evening; but I was roused by the sound of somebody vibrating the strings of a kind of guitar, which is very commonly met with here, most of the cottagers possessing one, which has been made at home, more or less roughly. The discordant noise put an end to further thought, so I returned to the cottage. Here I found the whole of the inhabitants, men, women, and children, assembled on the terrace before the cottages, one of the men working away vigorously at the instrument, and, as if fancying that I had been attracted by the beauty of his performance, bursting into a song at my approach, which was infinitely more discordant than the instrument. In fact, I consider Japanese singing detestable, and though I have heard so much as to be almost indifferent to it, I have not got beyond that stage, nor do I think I ever shall. On the other hand, I am bound to confess that they are not, more favourable impressed by our mode of singing; at Dsetjuma’s request, I one day sang Der Konigs Lust, and some old Norwegian airs, but though he liked to hear the curious sound of the words, he frankly confessed that he thought we foreigners were greatly behind his countrymen in this matter; a confession which struck me at the instant as being as strange as the assertion I once heard made by a saw-sharpener, that the most musical sound he ever heard made was that produced by himself in the practice of his profession. To return to the cottages. The people were all collected together outside on the terrace, chattering and laughing, between the intervals of music, as if they had not a care in the world, as, indeed, I believe they have not, for they don’t make a care of anything. These people were better off than the generality of those who live in villages, because, as I found during the evening, in addition to the ground which they cultivated, partly for their landlord’s benefit, as well as their own, they had permission to cultivate the soil to the foot of the hill for seven years, for their sole benefit; they had still three years before them. It is a very common practice here for a landowner to enter into an arrangement of this kind for the purpose of bringing any uncultivated land he may happen to possess into the same condition as the rest of his estate, without any cost to himself.
We took out seats among them without any ceremony, although this did not prevent them from paying us the respect which is always rendered from one Japanese to his superior in rank. They brought us sweetmeats, tea, and their substitute for beer, of which they themselves drank a great quantity, they being able to indulge in the former beverage to such an extent, in consequence of the tea-plant growing just above their houses, on the edge of the wood where nothing else could be grown. After we had been sitting a little while, an old man came before Dsetjuma, and asked permission for two of the young men to exhibit their skill in wrestling for our amusement; of course he gave it, and a space being cleared, two men came forward, in the costume of the wrestlers of ancient Greece, and took their places opposite each other and us. One of these was a rather slender fellow, not a bad figure as Japanese go, but the other was a square bony man, whose body presented no end of angles, each more painfully acute than the other. It was quite evident, from the expression of their faces, that each was determined to exert himself to the utmost in the presence of the strangers, and I began to feel a little sorry that the thing had been proposed, as I feared the struggle would go beyond the bounds of play; however, there was no help for it now, and the result must be left to chance. Presently, one raised a shout, to which the other replied by a still louder one, and these shouts were continued through the whole struggle. The two combatants then moved round each other in a kind of dance; suddenly, the slender one made a rush, with his hands raised up, as if he meant to catch his opponent round the neck; the other raised his hands, and, before he could lower them, slender had caught hold of his legs and lifted him off his feet, letting him fall to the ground with a very considerable shock. This feat was rewarded with great applause, especially from the women, whose sympathies were evidently with the man who had the advantage in this first bout. The struggle was renewed, sometimes to the advantage of one, sometimes to the advantage of the other. They did not appear to have any systematic course of proceeding; if they failed to throw each other by a trick at the first onset, they merely clung together and struggled until they were both exhausted or they both went down. After this was over, two of the women began to dance, and these were soon joined by some others. Their dancing was of the most lugubrious character, and would have astonished anybody who had been accustomed to dancing in a continental ball-room. It had not even the merit of being good exercise, as European dancing undoubtedly is, but consisted simply in a slow, monotonous revolution, each performer stopping occasionally to perform a pas seul, after the dictates of her imagination, for their movements were not regulated by any rule. The men seemed to enjoy it immensely, as they do everything in the way of amusement.
The consumption of sakhi and tea was astonishing, the women especially drinking enormous quantities of the latter; evidently, it was a fête for them. The night was so beautiful that nobody appeared to care about going to sleep, and I believe that many of the cottagers went direct to their work without having closed their eyes. As for Dsetjuma and I, we retired just as a faint gleam of light appeared on the horizon, indicating that the sun was about to make his appearance; and I was soon sound asleep on the mat, where I remained until a later hour than usual.
The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was a woman sitting on a bundle of wood just outside the door, drawing snails out of their shells with a pair of small iron tweezers, and dropping them into a dish of water. It was the first time I had seen these things being prepared for the cuisine, and though I had eaten them often enough to do so without any disgust, the old feeling revived a little when I saw them in this preliminary stage. The operation of inducing them to quit their domicile seemed rather a difficult one, and the woman made but slow progress. I called to her, and suggested that a little gentle hammering between a couple of stones would facilitate matters; but the Japanese have their ideas on the subject of gastronomy like more civilised nations, and I was told that to break the shell wounded the animal and allowed the juices to escape, and it became, in consequence, dry and insipid.
I remember once reading in the Deutsches--, something—I forget what—that the scarcity of water in some of the American hotels in the far west is such that only one pine of water is put in the wash-hand basin each morning, which is made to serve for every individual in succession, and for the same reason a towel was made to serve for an unlimited period; a person who complained that it was dirty being told that he was over-particular, and that “he was the first who had complained, although it had been in constant use for two months.” Now, this sort of thing would not suit the Japanese at all. The first thing in the morning man, woman, and child tumble into a tub of water, and they repeat the operation as often as the opportunity offers during the day. The fact is, that it is so intensely hot here in the summer that it is a positive luxury to bathe, and the style of dress being so simple, the trouble of undressing does not form an obstacle to its enjoyment, as is the case in European countries. Their love of bathing being such, it may be imagined that the people at the place of which I am speaking must have suffered great privations from want of water, but this was not so. They had sunk a well a little below the cottages, but the quantity of water in it was very small, and in the summer, when it was most wanted, it was usually dry; consequently, it became necessary to hit upon a contrivance to bring water from a well at the foot of the hill, and the way in which they had accomplished this struck me as being very ingenious. The distance to this well was not great from the cottages, probably not more than a hundred yards, but the ascent was very steep, and the manner in which they conducted the water to the cottages was in this wise:--The end of a tube made of the gum of which I have already spoken, bound externally with flax and coated with gum, as dropped into the well; the remaining portion was carried over—or slung from, I could not clearly see which—the highest branch of a fine tree which spread itself over the spring and thence conducted to the wall above, being supported at short intervals on poles, which gradually diminished in height. They had then managed to exhaust the air from the tube, and the long syphon supplied them with a constant stream of water, which never ceased to run night or day. The diameter of the tube being small, the supply was not rapid, but there was sufficient in the well, notwithstanding the drains that had been made upon it, to provide myself and Dsetjuma each with a bath of delightfully cool water. (To be continued)[p. 200]
1859: P News, Dec. 30, vol. III, #69, p.200-201:
Through Japan With A Camera* (From our own Correspondent)[Pierre Rossier]
(*Continued from vol. III p. 189)
After we had finished our ablutions we strolled up into the wood at the top of the hill to get an appetite for our breakfast. Here we found an old man busy pouring something from little earthenware vessels into a sort of pitcher; this we found to be varnish. The manner in which they get this is in this wise: they bore a hole into the heart of the tree and insert the end of a stout reed I it, which they cement round with clay. The reed projecting several inches from the body of the tree drops the gum which exudes through it into a basin placed there to receive it, which is carefully covered over by a piece of oiled paper to keep out water and other impurities. We followed the old and from tree to tree, and found that there were altogether thirteen varnish trees in this wood, and the quantity of varnish he collected from them must have been about three quarts. He told us that he did this for the mutual benefit of all who lived in the cottages, and that the right of collecting it was given to them by the agreement which they had made with respect to the cultivation of the hillside; but Dsetjuma would not believe him, as the value of the finest kind of varnish, such as this, was something considerable.
All the preparation it underwent, as far as I saw, was slow heating in a glazed earthenware vessel, the scum which formed on the surface being skimmed off and put aside; but it is well known that it seldom finds its way to market in this condition, its value rendering it too tempting an object for adulteration. As a varnish for negatives it is excellent, being transparent and hard, yet not hard enough to be brittle; and I was very glad to have this opportunity of buying a supply of a substance of which I stood greatly I need. To give some idea of the price demanded for this varnish when pure, I may state that I paid for about thirty ounces what in English money would amount o nine shillings, as nearly as possible, although I was told that this was not more than a third of what I must have paid if I had bought it in a city.
Breakfast had been waiting for us some time when we got back to the cottage, and we did ample justice to the delicate stews and the nice little hot cakes prepared for us; they are very clever in manufacturing these cakes, and I don’t think I ever saw so great a variety anywhere, except in Brussels, nor any more pleasant to the palate. While we were eating our breakfast, the children from all the other cottages crowded into the apartment to see us eat—little naked urchins of both sexes, who seemed as devoid of fear or timidity as only such unsophisticated little creatures can be; not that they were offensively pert, but they were bold with the boldness which only lasts so long as they retain the purity and innocence of childhood. A good many of the cakes found their way into their hands, and it was a real pleasure to see how they enjoyed them. The men were in the field at work, and so were some of the women; but the presence of the children furnished an excuse for those who remained at home to come to the apartment where we were. They did not appear in the least tired by their exertion of the previous night, and from the way in which they replied to our compliment on the manner in which they had acquitted themselves, I don’t think they would have required much persuasion to begin again; but we knew better than to ask such a thing; it was very well when we were resting from the fatigues of the day, but in the morning, when we were just going to begin them, it was quite a different thing. These women had not disfigured themselves in the manner in which it is a common practice for married women to do here: I mean, they had not blacked their teeth, or, if they had once done so, they had suffered it to wear off, for the only evidence I could see of their having once been black was in their being a little darker than those of the girls; but this might have arisen from other causes. One of the women had lost an ear, and had a deep scar from the collar-bone right across the chest. Dsetjuma asked her how she got it, and, with a good deal of embarrassment, she told him that her husband had done it in a fit of jealousy. I don’t know what it was he replied to her, after she had finished this tale, but it had the effect of making her leave the room. I fancy that he, like a good many men in their countries, can be very severe on the subject of women’s duties, without troubling himself to set them an example by their own conduct. We heard a rather different version of the affair when she had gone; according to which, she had made an appointment to meet a man at a certain place, and that this fact had come to her husband’s knowledge, upon which he went to the place of rendezvous himself, drove away the man he found there, and when his wife came to the spot, he attempted to strike her across the head with his knife; but as she happened to move her head on one side, the stroke merely took off her ear, felt on her neck, and then glanced across her chest. This is the first instance I have heard of a man being jealous of a woman since I have been in Japan. (To be continued.)[see 1860 Transcriptions]