[[1]]
H.M.S. "Erebus" Simon's Bay. Cape Good Hope.
April 9th 1843. (rec[eive]d Sat[urda]y
July 8th.)
My dear Mother *1
Before we left the Falklands I wrote you a letter which was left to go by the first
opportunity for home. I have now to thank you for many others written in the end of
1841 & first 5 months of 1842. which I had the pleasure of receiving soon after
anchoring here -- this time they were of ancient date, but not the less acceptable,
that could not be helped. The Jewels sent to the Falklands arrived quite safe as did
a beautiful ring with hair, here, & a lock of little Mary's besides. I thank you very
much for these affectionate tokens & value them more than you can well imagine.
You may now, if you would not before, set your mind quite at ease about us. We
have arrived here in perfect health with sound ships & are on our homeward voyage.
this voyage will probably be a long one, but all will be in fine--weather Latitudes with
no Bergs about us. The other day I sent a very large letter to my Father giving him a
tolerably full account of our last cruize[sic] to the Ice, which I believe has gone home
with Capt[ain] Ross' despatches. I sent it along with a beautiful track put by Davis
into the circumpolar chart, & a rude Sketch or two which I had not time to finish,
under cover to Capt[ain] Beaufort. There was a good deal of gossip in the letter but
no answers to any of those received here having hardly time to acknowlege[sic] their
receipt in a P.S. -We every day expect to receive a Post from England, the letters received at the
Falklands' being those of the latest date to us. -- They always come to Table Bay &
then are sent down hither[?] by an Omnibus which has
[[2]] been lately established here & runs up & down to Cape Town with tolerable
regularity. You will be surprized[sic] to know that I have not been up to Town yet but
the fact is that I have nothing to go in, we feel the weather stifling & hot, & to dine on
board the Flag Ship the other day I had to borrow garments, not one of my 3 1/2
dozen white trousers will go on; -- so much for my rude health. -- We are all in rags &
employing the tailors who have bad & irregular workmen all day long -- The shops
here are rather better than before & we can get more things for the mess, but the
town village is a most wretched place. Except some very bad apples & figs there is no
fruit but grapes fast going off & too sweet, but exceedingly good & I generally
breakfast off them. The country is quite dried up & all the flowers gone off. of
Society there is none but on board the Flag ship, where the Midshipmen have been
very attentive to us & have given us a general invitation to their mess besides a fine
dinner the other day sent us all their latest periodicals & made themselves as
agreeable as possible.
April 29th. My dear Mother, I am quite ashamed of not having finished & sent this
letter away long ago, but I am a bad correspondent & as one letter is meant for all I
become naturally averse to splitting up my correspondence under many directions,
which after all meet in the same room. -- As far as any of you my dear relations are
concerned, I am quite indifferent whether I begin with My dear Father. -- Mother or
sister; but as my letters are rather botanical & prosy at times, I commence others to
you, though with little hope of giving you any thing interesting. -- Through HMS
Samarang I received a very long & kind letter from you, which were I able, would be
answered in as many sheets as that occupied. In my voyages I am placed under
great disadvantages as a letter writer, meeting with no one who you care about or
about whom you would be interested, hence all my home letters become egotistical
to a degree. -- You on the contrary fill yours with news of others all of whom I am
glad to hear & know of. --
[[3]] May 12. 1843. My dear Mother. What excuse shall I make for this third
beginning to my letter, which was to have gone from Simons Bay? No good excuse I
fear that you will take, & so I had better throw myself on your mercy at once & try to
make this interesting.
During our stay at Simon's Bay I went twice to Cape Town, with several mess mates;
some parts of the drive are very pretty. Leaving the Bay the road cuts across the
heads of several sandy Bays, where the sand is very deep & the driving slow, except
when the tide is partly out & the wash is very firm like that of Yarmouth beach, for 6
or 7 miles is very barren, with nothing but a few bushes of Proteas & a species of
Mesembryanthemum to be seen at this season. All the traffic is carried by huge
bullock waggons, of which I remember an admirable sketch in Burchell's travels,
there are always 6 or 8 often 12 or 14 & sometimes 20 great bullocks harnessed to
each, who are strong patient enduring beasts & travel at the rate of 10--16 miles a
day over the sandy parts of the Bay. -- The driver always wears a curious hottentot
hat, which they all like though it is very uncouth & heavy, it is a short cylinder with a
thatched cone on the top of that again, whence the vertical section resembles the
accompanying sketch *2, the cone is of white straw; their whips are enormous, the
handle 8 or 10 & the thong 20--30 ft long, when they are cracked the report is like a
pistol. I believe they use it with great dexterity, flicking one refractory animal out of
the long train with perfect accuracy. Passing the head of Simons False Bay, the
road winds round the base of a high table topped mountain to the South[war]d of
table Mt, & then an immense flat is open before you, forming the isthmus which
separates the piece of land on which Cape Point Simons' Town & Table Mt & Cape
Town are, from the continent. The view here is very grand to me, although I never
saw any one who thought it so, all the western portion of the flat, (called the Cape
Flats) is covered with a luxuriant evergreen vegetation, to the North is Table Bay. -Simons Bay to the South. On the East a gradual ascent to a beautiful amphitheatre
of mountains, running[?]
[[4]] From the Muysenberg [Muizenberg] Mt (whose base we just crossed) on the
South, round to Table Mt on the North West, the base & slopes of this girdle are
richly wooded with oak plantations & native shrubs, amongst which the white houses
of the Constantia[?] farms appear. Table Mt is from this a very grand object, for
about 1000 ft down it is a complete long wall of rock, with here & there some almost
perpendicular narrow water gullys, & a huge whang taken out to separate it from
David's Mountain, this wall is quite grey & too steep for any vegetation, but it rises
out of a steep slope densely wooded, as green as possible, & cut up with steep dark
looking ravines. To the East[war]d the flats become quite bare of vegetation, & the
white sand at the distance of 4 or 5 miles glistens to the eye, until bounded by a
ridge of the most wild rocky steep impracticable looking mountains you can well
imagine, of a red brown color[sic], the types of utter barrenness -- It is however at the
back of these hills that the most beautiful & romantic country of the colony is to be
found, & it is called Hottentots Holland, either on that account, or because the hills
look as unlike our ideas of that Dutch land as can well be. This range runs North &
South & through all the roads to the interior must go, as you will see by referring to
the map & there are only 3 passes cut with the greatest skill & with incredible
labor[sic], through a range that looks impassable to the eye -- We are not going that
way, however, but keep North, along a capital road towards the North East flank of
Table Mt -- up to out for about 14 or 15 miles from Simon's Bay not a tree is to be
seen along the road, but on approaching table Mt the roadside becomes well planted
with firs & oak trees, the latter grow very rapidly here & form a most agreeable shade
from the sun. Close to the foot of the Mt is the village of Wynberg, full of pretty lanes
& the houses of the Cape town people, there is also a most English looking spire
peeping through the trees, neat gardens & most tasteful cottages. It is backed by an
estate
[[5]] called Paradise, by reason of its lovely situation, on the slope of the Mountain &
commanding a view to the South[war]d over the flats, down on Wynberg beneath
one's feet, & bounded by the sea beyond Table Bay. The cliffs of the Mountain are
here the grandest for effect I ever saw, at least I always thought so, perhaps from
coming off the sea. they quite frown down on the road though 3000 ft over head;
The worst of them is that they look are essentially sterile, & there is a something in
the look of the empty & silent water courses which the verdure & beauty of the slope
below will not make up for. I quite felt that I should have heard the murmur of the
many distant cataracts, which ought to have poured down each little gully. One of
the first houses on the road is called Feldhauzen & was of great interest to us, as
there Sir John Herschell lived & set up the Telescope with which he catalogued the
stars of the Southern Hemisphere. it is a very nice white house, with a long avenue
of dark Fir trees, which give it any thing but an inviting appearance, near it is a little
monument erected on the position of the Telescope. One could not help looking at
the place where England's greatest Philosopher lived; the man too, who paid us the
compliment of calling our Expedition "the forlorn hope of Science" perhaps though
that was because it was a forlorn hope to expect any good out of such a set as we
are, -- whether it was intended to flatter, frighten or stimulate us, we take it as the
greatest compliment ever received. Sir John's memory is held in the highest esteem,
& though I do not know him I could not but be pleased to hear how a gentleman who
attended the college at Wynberg, & who had the benefit of some of Sir Js voluntary
instruction, spoke of him. Lady Herschell was no less esteemed, she is I believe a
beautiful artist & a Scotch Lady. -- So it was that I looked on Feldhauzen, as I once
did many years ago, upon Woolsthorpe near Grantham. Passing this, another pretty
village
[[6]] called Rondebosch comes next, it is also made up of farmhouses cottages &
villas, where the Indians congregate most. Many omnibuses run out here every day,
& there are many private carriages on all the road from hence to town. The road
next goes over the slope at the base of Devils mountain, when there is a full view of
Table bay, always full of large shipping riding at Anchor in the immense open Bay: to
the right is the Royal Observatory, looking as if it had dropped from aloft on to the
flats, for there is neither vegetation or any houses near it; the building is very large &
fine, with two domes on the wings, the rooms lofty & large, it stands about 2 miles
from the road. One of the first things that catches the eye is the wreck of a huge
ship which was driven ashore a few months ago by the NW winds, & totally lost,
nothing remains but the kelson & a few ribs. A little further on & Cape Town bursts
at once into full view, & a most wretched view it is, the slope of the road is bare of
trees, the town lies, not nestled, but clapped[?] down on a gradually slope at the foot
of the opposite side of table Mt to what I described above; the great bay is before it,
Lions Mt to the right, the high inaccessable[sic] (except in one narrow gorge) cliffs at
the back, & Devils Mt on the left; not a tree any where, either on the road, town or
hills. -- The houses look mean, are square, generally low, arranged in squares,
glaringly white--washed with blue or red tiles. You enter by some dirty hovels & mud
walls on a road covered with an impalpable red dust, which covers & paints 3 or 4
wretched fir trees, which are bent at an angle of 45º by the SE wind; approaching, it
does not improve, a short turn of road almost brings horse & gig up against the
castle ramparts, which are of a lively grey color[sic] abutting on the road, with a top
all round dug out of red clay earth
[[7]] & some dirty hamlets scattered without order all round. to avoid this you turn
your head to the left & meet a glaring white washed house with a red roof which in
such weather at once puts one in mind of a red heat & white heat, & further on the
sterile cliffs of the mountain. Entering the town is as I have described much
unpromising & as to itself I cannot say much more for it. There is a large open space
of red clay, surrounded with a low wall & ditch, having walks inside under slender
oaks & the vile Firs, this gives shade & that is all, grass will not grow & to make it
attractive, to Ladies I suppose, who are naturally fond of shopping, there are dirty
women sitting on the walk sites selling gingerbread, stale fruit & lolly pops. A little
further on is a large building which, with Ludwig's Gardens, is the saving clause of
Cape Town -- this building contains a fine reading room with every good paper in
proper order & at hand, one wing prettily planted round with roses briars & climbing
convolvuluses contains a Library of 30,000 volumes, all in most excellent order, with
the tables covered with magazines. As soon as I had bought a new hat to match my
plain clothes (which I paid £2 for) I called there for Mr Jardine, to whom my Father
recommended me, he was going out of town & I had just time to catch him on his
way to the coast & introduced myself to him with "Pray are you Mr Jardine? -because I am Mr Hooker" &c.. he proved very gracious & kind, but as he was going
away for some days it was "how do you do" & "good bye" all at once -- I found the
streets all narrow, ill paved, hot & dusty, the houses generally mean & irregular,
some of the shops good, but little shade any where: most of the houses have a long
round narrow terrace just before the door, with a seat for smoking at each end & an
ugly
[[8]] fir tree or stunted Acacia planted over each settee. Now these terraces cannot
be walked over, & as they take up all the room where the pavement should be, there
is no walking straight on but in the middle of the street, & then the poor advantage of
a shady side is lost, without you hug the wall & double[?] every terrace, crossing &
recrossing the zigzag gutter most ingeniously contrived to go the shortest distance
by the longest way. The natives are of a mixed breed. Hottentots are scarcely seen
anywhere, Malays are very common, both men & women, generally with a red
Bandana handkerchief round the head, they have a separate meeting house and
burying place. Next are the dutch breed, often round built especially the ladies, &
inclined to be swarthy, they roll handsomely along the streets, are plump & often well
looking, sometimes very handsome the men are as often thin & smoke many cigars.
All Dutch born in the colony are called Africandoes[?] as the colonial Australia[n]s
are called Currency *3 & the St Helena's Yam stocks. Except the shop keepers the
English are not much seen, they comprise the upper classes, generally live out of
town & drive in to shop &c. The Governor, the vice--Roy of the Colony, keeps a very
poor table & only gives one ball a year, the society is quite divided between the
Dutch & English; they do not mingle much, though I suspect much of the former
class to be far superior to the latter. Amongst the strangers & occasional visitors
none are so conspicuous as the Indians, they saunter about slowly with white
Jackets, straw hats & whips in their hands, though ten to one they belong to foot
regiments, they may be descried at once by having long yellow hatchet faces,
curious noses of sorts, yellow whites to their eyes & are said to have no Livers,
whence I suppose the bile be deposited elsewhere, in the face, eyes &c, so much as &
even to affect their tempers for some[?] are hypochondriacs & others highly irritable,
they are gregarious & live
[[9]] frequently in boarding houses. The other class of strangers dub themselves
gentlemen or Midshipmen of the Merchant Navy, they are highly conspicuous,
swagger with their hands in their pockets, or if they have gloves on them appear
quite at a loss what to do with these members, so strangely encased. they wear
open necks, turned down collars, & narrow neck--cloths tied in a huge knot, & after
that passed through an E. Ind. gold ring; they roll their eyes, look impudently at
ladies, smoke cigars in the streets & drink brandy & water betimes in the morning; all
of which they think signs of a good sailor. I should not mention these were were they
not conspicuous features in cape zoology, which it would ill behove me as a
naturalist to overlook.
After settling for my accommodations at an Inn I went to Baron Ludwig's & found the
little nobleman at home, but looking I was sorry to see very poorly -- You may
remember that just before I left the Cape 3 years ago his wife had died, which loss it
appears cut him up very much -- By some Dutch laws it seems that on these
occasions 1/3 of the husband's property goes to the wifes relations, or daughters, I
am not sure which; this bust his business; he then took Rheumatism & has been
very unwell, but is slowly recovering -- He received me with the greatest kindness &
wished me to stay at his house, which I declined, not seeing any occasion to trouble
him, & having a great deal of shopping to do, which I wished to effect in the cool of
the evening, when he would expect me to sit at home. I breakfasted & lunched there
however. His house is one of the best in Cape Town, with a noble Drawing room,
handsomely furnished with 2 busts of his noble self, one of the late Baroness & one
of the poet Schiller. My Fathers picture used to hang there before, but was not now,
& of course I did not ask for it: -- he my Father has given way to William of Wurtemberg,
who so graciously showered down the crosses & snuff box on him of Cape Town,
which emblems you may
[[10]] remember in the Crescent. I found Peter Schlemihl in his Library & could not
help reading part of it from old acquaintance sake, it was the very copy my
Grandfather gave him, tell this to the dear old man & how many associations &
thoughts of him it brought up; his own handwriting ascribing it to Chamisso was on
the title page, I think I was more pleased to have found that book of my dear
Grandfather's than with any thing else in Cape Town, I had a great mind to steal it.
My dear Mother, I have been writing this till late at night, that it may be ready to go
by the first ship after our arrival at St Helena, which we doubt not will be tomorrow.
We are now (midn[igh]t) only 40 miles off, & have shortened sail lest we run down
the Isl[an]d & knock it away in the night. -- Canvass being off her, she rolls worse
than when this prenoon I was writing to Bessy, so you must please not to criticise my
handwriting. -I cannot thank you too much for taking up music again (not that I see why you who
have so good an ear & voice should ever let it drop) but I am quite sensible that you
have taken it up to please me very much, as you may be sure it will. -- That
miserable howl about Gypseying[?] must either have struck you as good, or you [1
word crossed out, illeg.] must think that my taste is very low indeed for music. I
suspect it was the only tune old Sinclair knew by name, & so he told you that it was a
favourite of mine, -- he is an excellent creature but has no more ear for music than a
cat has. -- You know plenty of good music without learning any new for me. You
know that I am quite ignorant of music & only know the names of a few things which
please me much. Maria has a fine voice, as we often said, but she would not try it or
give herself opportunity; & Elizabeth's taste was good always: with industry she
might be a good artiste & Maria always a most pleasing one. -- How much I should
like to hear Aunt Harriettes voice again as
[[11]] well as to see her dear face & my excellent Uncle John's not his voice though in song, I
have a great mind to write to the latter, but he would be too astonished.
Of all the sweet & unaffected voices what I remember of my Grandmother's
surpassed your's[sic] & all, even Aunt Harriette's, a far more powerful & splendid
one. -- I think that my Grandmothers singing "Rule Britannia" & that air with the silly
words "Sigh no more ladies" was most beautiful & graceful, far beyond any thing I
have heard since either on the stage or elsewhere, at least it always struck me so. -You will be very careful of my dear sisters voices -- I sent a list of things I liked to
Bessy, very probably none of them will suit either her powers or her instruments, that
I know unfortunately nothing off. Whatever you do do not let her attempt any thing to
please me which is not agreeable to yourself or Maria or does not please them. You
have plenty of sacred & especially of Haydn's music, better there is none. The songs
you & Mary were accustomed to sing & especially the airs that my Grandmother
knew so well will please me best of any.
Should no letter go to my Father by this opportunity you must make my peace with
him, & tell him that I shall write before I leave.
St Helena. -- I am quite sorry to hear of Betsy's ill health & do hope that ere this she
is restored to good health, she was a most amiable & attached creature, I have still a
housewife or as we call it a ditty--bag made by little Mary & herself, & it is very useful
indeed to me, though rather soiled from much work & hard service. Remember me
most kindly to her & tell her that I often think most gratefully of her long continued
kindness to poor Mary. -- Give my very best love to all at Yarmouth, Irestead, Oxford
& Hampstead & believe me
Ever your most affectionate Son | Jos. D. Hooker[signature]
May 13 anchored 8 am
Exactly 13 days to an hour from Simons Bay.
ENDNOTES
1. Lady Maria Hooker nee Turner (1797--1872).
2. A sketch of the hat is drawn on the right hand side of page 3.
3. A native born Australian. In the early days of the Australian colony English gold pieces
were called sterling, but there were also ‘inferior’ coins from many countries. These were
called currency. The ‘sterling’ British born immigrants used the word currency to belittle the
native-born Australians, but the Australians soon used it of themselves with pride. First
recorded 1824.
4. Peter Schlemihls wundersame Geschichte (Peter Schlemihl's Miraculous Story)
(1814) by Adelbert von Chamisso.
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