Total sales of Lawrence Green'sbooks (including school and

overseas editions) exceed half amillion copies.

LAWRENCE G. GREEN

has also written

1933 The Coast ofTreasure

1935 GreatAfrican Mysteries

1936 Secret Africa

1937 The Coast ofDiamonds

1938 StrangeAfrica 1940 OldAfrica Untamed

1945 Where MenStill Dream

1946 So Few AreFree

1947 Tavern of theSeas

1948 To theRiver's End

1949 In the Landof Afternoon

1950 At Daybreakfor the Isles

1951 Grow LovelyGrowing Old

1953 Lords of theLast Frontier

1954 Under a SkyLike Flame

1955 Karoo

1956 There's aSecret Hid Away

1957 Beyond theCity Lights

1958 South

AfricanBeachcomber

1959 TheseWonders toBehold

1960 Eight Bellsat Salamander

1961 Great NorthRoad

1962 SomethingRich and Strange

1963 A DecentFellow Doesn'tWork

1964 I Heard theOld Man Say

1965 AlmostForgotten, NeverTold

1966 Thunder onthe Blaauwberg

1967 On Wings of

hire

1968 Full Many aGlorious Morning

1969 Harbours ofMemory

1970 A Giant inHiding

IN AFRIKAANS

1948 Min Menseis Vry

1964 Karoo

A TASTE OF

SOUTH-EASTER

Memories of unusual CapeTown characters, queer

shops and shows, old bars,hotels and cafés and thepanorama of the streets.

BY

LAWRENCE G. GREEN

1971

HOWARD TIMMINS

CAPE TOWN

Table of Contents

Title PageContentsList of IllustrationsChapter One -Wanderers Of The StreetChapter Two - UncleMac's SecretChapter Three - WithLaughter And With GleeChapter Four - GraceBefore Meat

Chapter Five - The HandOf TimeChapter Six - Street Of AThousand StoriesChapter Seven - BooksAre A WorldChapter Eight - WiseAppetiteChapter Nine -Cavalcade Of CardsChapter Ten - TramcarFarewellChapter Eleven - TheVanishing Tattoo

Chapter Twelve -Chamber Of HorrorsChapter Thirteen - ASwan In The WindowChapter Fourteen - TheEast In Our MidstChapter Fifteen - LuxuryShopChapter Sixteen - SweetsAnd HoneyChapter Seventeen -Mellow, Rich And RipeChapter Eighteen - FreshAnd Wholesome

Chapter Nineteen -Smith Of The FishMarketChapter Twenty -Unlucky AmbroseChapter Twenty-one -The Vineyard's TreasureIndexBack Cover

List of Illustrations

"These old streets and narrowalleys have watched the story ofthe town roll by with thecenturies"

"Soon after leaving school Ientered a mellow world withgreat educationalpossibilities"...

"Cannon litter the Peninsula,from ancient muzzleloaders to

guns used in the WesternDesert in World War II"

"I liked the Victorian flavour ofthe old chemists' shops ... Theypounded their ingredients withmortar and pestle, and rolledtheir own pills.

"Professor Labouchere assuredme that one design often led toanother until it was hard to finda bare patch on the body of atrue enthusiast".

"He came in wearing a whitecoat, like a laboratory assistant,mounted the steps andaddressed us from the gallowsplatform"

Chapter One -Wanderers Of The Street

Wanderers of the street, towhom is dealt

The bread which withoutindustry they find.

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Suddenly I found myself staringdown the corridors of CapeTown's past. Faces came intosharp focus as a long cavalcade

of men and women returned tothe streets they had known.Perhaps it was the south-easterthat burst open the doors ofmemory; the violent wind thattouches all the senses at once.In some mysterious way I oftenseem to taste a south-east gale.Was it a whiff of horseflesh onthe wind that made so many ofmy ghosts walk? Yes, therecomes a Malay wedding party,four white horses with ostrich,plumes, coachman with straw

toering hat, bride with hergolden crown and veil, thegorgeous light-skinnedbridesmaids. Cape Town has athousand spectacles and athousand and one tales and theMalays helped long ago to givethis rollicking old seaport itsstrong atmosphere.

I could see and feel thecharacter of Cape Town at thatmoment in a strange pilgrimageof the human mind. These old

streets and narrow alleys havewatched the story of the townroll by with the centuries. Asthe faces came back so therearose long-demolishedbuildings and forgotten goodsin the windows of old-fashioned shops. I heard thedrums and bugles of regimentson the march, the heavy bootsof men who have passed on;and over the low house-topssounded church-bells that ringno more.

Does memory hand me back amore romantic Cape Town thananyone knew in reality? I thinknot. Johannesburg has themoney but only Cape Townpossesses the treasure that isnot to be found in mines. Thesestreets and unpredictable alleysare rich with the spoils of timeand the past lives again inwalled and hidden gardens.Gale after south-east gale mayrattle our shutters and sting ourfaces but the most furious wind

cannot blow away the wealth ofCape Town's story. Thecharacters I miss keenly arethose I knew when the city wasstill in such a leisurely period ofdevelopment that it waspossible to carry on aconversation in the middle ofthe busiest thoroughfareswithout being menaced by thetraffic.

Long Street has always been myfavourite street. As a schoolboy

I left my classmates eating dullsandwiches in the playgroundwhile I hurried down LongStreet to the café of my choice.(You will hear more of that caféfor it made a first and lastingimpression on me and left afragrant memory.) Long Streetprovided a great deal of freeentertainment in those days,from barrel organs to Germanbands. I did my shopping inLong Street and a shilling wenta long way; comic papers that

made my father wince,doughnuts and sweets. Ofcourse I heard the call of thewaterfront even in those days. Igazed upon eighteenth-centurybuildings in parts of the town;lovely fanlights, neat townhouses with scrolls and urns,white facades that have beentorn down in my time. Some ofthe old squares looked verymuch like the market placesused by farmers with ox-wagons early last century.

Gracious dwellings, Dutch andGeorgian and Regency stucco,were still there with theirsymmetrical sash-windows andsimple iron railings. Oftenthere was a black iron archwayover the gate with a decorativebracket for an oil-lamp. Fewpeople at that time had learntto value such glorious relics.They preferred the fairly recentVictorian cast-iron balconies ofLong Street. Foundries inBritain must have made huge

fortunes out of thesebalustrades and railings, gatesand ornamental gutters, grillesand arcades and the inescapablefluted lamp-posts. Sailing shipscarried cast-iron cargoes asballast at low rates. Much ofthis fantastic street furniturehas gone but Long Streetflaunts a few pleasing examplesand I hope the old pillar-boxeswill still be there at the end ofthe century.

As a child I was more interestedin light amusement than cast-iron. Even a hurdy-gurdy,carried by the owner, was not tobe despised; that extinctinstrument with strings setvibrating by a wheel. A barrel-organ was better. Musicianscomplained, that no shades oftone quality were possible butthere was an art in grindingthose street pianos so that themetallic rhythm was heard atits best. Children of all colours

danced to the four or five tunesof the barrel-organ. If there wasa monkey in a red coat and fezso much the better. Aristocratsamong barrelorgan owners haddrums, cymbals, triangle andcastanets all playing together bythe same mechanism while thehandle turned. The ownerneeded a strong and steady armto churn out the music at thecorrect tempo. Now and againthe owner's wife would take thehandle for a spell and the

owner would rattle a pair ofspoons in time with the music;a refinement known in thetrade as "doing the spoons".

German bands descended onthe business streets from theso-called "German Town" at thetop of Kloof Street. They cameinto a world that was stillclattering with horse-transportand rumbling with noisy tram-cars; but these solemn anddetermined musicians always

made themselves heard. Theywore peaked caps and most ofthem had spectacles. Somebands were a dozen strong buteven the smallest German bandhad a cornet, flute and the"oom-pah-pah" of a bassoon.They all disappeared on theoutbreak of World War I, neverto return. I regarded the "one-man band" as betterentertainment. Thishardworking hero wasfestooned with instruments in

likely and unlikely places. Pan-pipes were clamped just belowhis mouth. A big drum clung tohis back and he had thedrumsticks strapped to hiselbows. He played the cymbalsby means of strings attached tohis heels. Bells hung from hisarms and ankles. He couldswitch from pan-pipes to thecornet in his right hand or theclarinet in his left. Every weekthere came from the old Tivolithe music-hall songs that were

whistled by newsboys all overthe town and sung melodiouslyby peanut-sellers outside therailway station. The "one-manband" was always in fashionwith his incredibleperformances; he must havegone to the Tivoli regularly.

Undisputed king of CapeTown's gutter musicians duringmy childhood, however, was afat and middle-aged Malayknown as Fluiter Yussuf. He

opened his show by whistlinglike a steam locomotive. Thistremendous volume of soundbecame so well known thaturchins ran to him fromneighbouring streets andbarrow-boys stopped sellingtomatoes to listen. Even thoselowly youngsters who followedthe horse-drawn traffic in thehope of droppings would forman expectant group roundYussuf with their hand-shovelsand brushes. Yussuf waited

until a more prosperousaudience had gathered and thenpuckered his lips for the recital.Up and down the scale hetrilled like a true musiciantuning up for a greatperformance. His throatpulsated with power, high andsilvery notes went forth intothe heavens and Yussuf wasaway in a volksliedjie or Italianaria. His repertoire seemedendless. When he delivered Osole mio in a rapturous

crescendo every balcony in thestreet would fill with admiringfaces. Another liquid andcompelling favourite was"Rosa", an old Cape love songwith baffling lines and wordsthat are not heard in Afrikaansnowadays. The whole streetjoined in when Yussuf reachedthe chorus:

Sy seg sy sal my nooit verlaat

Sy volg my waar ek gaan

Rosa Rosa diet een hart

En sy volg my waar ek gaan.

Fluiter Yussuf, I must tell you,was more than a mere siffleur.As the show went on yourealised that Yussuf was notonly a locomotive and a canarybut that he had a voice as well.In some uncanny way theresonating chamber behind hislips could produce a hummingaccompaniment as well as thewhistled melody. Now and

again the sudden emphasis of asforzando would rock theaudience, for it seemedincredible that one man shouldbe capable of rendering a sweetflute-like whistle and thesimultaneous hum of a bass.

After an inspired programme byYussuf some of the otherentertainers of the streetsseemed pathetic. I never saw apavement artist in Cape Townbut there were buskers with

banjos, harpists, escapologistsand itinerant vocalists. At thebottom of the scale was thedejected owner of a primitivegramophone in a pram. Youpaid a penny, the wax cylinderrevolved and the music was allyours because it came throughrubber tubes with earpieces likea stethoscope. The gramophonewas still something of anovelty. I remember hearing ascratchy Tettrazzini for a penny.Another man tore newspapers

into complicated patterns andfor a tickey he would cut a pieceof black paper into a profile ofhis patron. The same artist solda kitchen gadget that wouldtransform a radish or turnipinto a rose. It looked easy whenhe handled the instrument butmany a housewife returnedhome to find that she had notmastered the peculiar art.

Luigi Bozzolo was a familiarcharacter with his pony drawn

ice cream barrow decoratedwith flowers and shaded by astriped canopy. "Gelati - eccouno poco", he cried. "Ice cream- behold a little." Childrenturned the Italian words into"hokey pokey". Vanilla was ingreat demand and there was asmaller canister with thestrawberry flavour. All thesepeople of the streets, tradersand knife-grinders andcontortionists, the man whosplit a potato open on his wife's

head with a sword; all theseresourceful vagrants belongedto the era before machinery andthe mass invasion of motor-cars. As a rule they played togentle background noises; thepleasant jingle of harness andbells and snorting of horses;rumble of carts and carriages,thud of hooves and wheels oncobbles [1]. You could hear thestreet cries clearly in thosedays. "Any shoes, hats or oldclothes." Only a few cries have

survived, such as the "Oy-yai"and "Loy-ee, Loy-ee" of thenewsboys. And in the MalayQuarter you can still hear themuezzin calling; twice in thedaytime he goes out on theminaret of the mosque andthree times during the night.

Swallows are fairly rare in CapeTown nowadays. Swarms ofthem skimmed up and downAdderley Street before WorldWar I and they could be seen

resting in hundreds on thecornices of the churches. Youcan see the starlings in ChurchSquare easily enough and heartheir chatter; but the twitteringof the long-winged swallows isnot so common as it was half acentury ago. Swallows come allthe way from Siberia, some ofthem from beyond the ArcticCircle, to nest on theParliament buildings, rock facesand walls of houses. A centuryago the naturalist Sclater said

the European swallow wasabundant in Cape Town; butthis bird with the deeply-forkedtail now seeks its food outsidethe city. Swallows live on flies.They found the right sort offlies in horse manure. Stableshave been replaced by garages;the powerful horses withshaggy-hooves no longer haulwagons and carts. The swallowsgo elsewhere for their flies andif they visit their old haunts itis, perhaps, only because of

some ancestral memory oflavish meals provided in thestreets.

Malays settled in Long Streetwhen it was one of the town'sboundary streets and they havenever departed. I have a guidebook published towards the endof last century that describesLong Street as "a long, uglystreet of one-storey buildingsinhabited by Malays"; aninaccurate description, for it

became a street of contrastsearly last century and it hasnever been ugly ormonotonous. Cape Town's oldartists seem to have been fondof Long Street. The celebratedWilhelm Langschmidt livedthere and announced that hewould be "happy to receiveorders for oil paintings,miniature and large, as well aspastel paintings and chalk".William Weideman, another ofthe street's artists, illustrated

the fine travel narrative by themerchant George Thompson,published in the eighteen-twenties. ChristiaanSchonegevel, possibly the firstSouth African-born artist withany claim to fame, was anotherof this little band. He found ithard to make a living so he alsotaught music and worked as acompositor in the governmentprinting office.

John Rowland Brown, a deaf

and dumb artist, was broughtup in the orphanage at the topof Long Street, the historicweeshuis that stood next to theGerman Lutheran Church fornearly one hundred and fiftyyears. The kindly principal ofthe orphanage gave youngBrown pencil and paper and acopy of the "Illustrated LondonNews". The boy revealed suchtalent that he was sent toEngland at the age of seventeento study art. Very few of his

paintings have been traced. Theorphanage was started early lastcentury by Mrs MargarethaMoller, a rich widow, as a homefor "respectable forlornwomen". The orphanage camelater with Thibault as theprobable designer. This was thefirst orphanage in South Africaand it was built of brick set inclay. One huge room, shapedlike a cross, ran the wholelength and depth of thebuilding. I remember the

unusual semi-circular pedimentand the facade which remindedarchitects of the Old SupremeCourt, finished at the sameperiod. Over the front door wasa clerestory light with acartwheel pattern, in contrastwith the usual fanlight. Ibelieve the cartwheel and twowindows were preserved whenthe building was demolished.

"Anything can be purchased inLong Street from a dried snoek

to Browning's poems," wrote avisitor early this century. It hadbecome a street of shops but itwas known as "the lodgingstreet" because so many peoplelived over the shops. Soon afterWorld War II, I met a womanwho had lived with her parentsin Long Street during the sixtiesof last century. She was MrsMaria Mitchell, daughter of aScottish fisherman. Her fatherowned the schooner Springbok;he landed snoek at Rogge Bay

and sold them for a penny each,while a silver fish cost a tickey.Mrs Mitchell told me that shestarted work at the age oftwelve, sweeping the floor ofSaul Solomon's printing worksand picking up lead type. At theage of ninety she could stillread the tiny six-point typewithout glasses. "Long Streetwas such a safe place when Iwas a child that we often sleptwith the front door open," shetold me. "Everything was so

cheap, peaches cost a shilling ahundred, mutton was twopence a pound."

When I first came to knowLong Street, round about thetime of Union, you lookedtowards the mountain and sawtrees and old estates ratherthan tower blocks. Oranjezichtwas still a farm. Over on theDevil's Peak slopes was therambling homestead calledMount Prospect, with its

vineyard and gardens.Vredehoek, the Mellish farm,was close by; and this was still afarm during World War I andfor some years afterwards, afarm that was graduallysurrounded by the city.

Long Street had tram linesrunning in the dead centre. Iremember a watchmakernamed Speight whose claim tofame rested on a golden modelof the Albert Memorial which

he had made; the Sultan ofJohore presented it to QueenVictoria as a jubilee gift.Jagger's boot factory, with fivestoreys, was about the tallestbuilding in the street. Dix's Café(established in 1845) was there;for many years the onlyrestaurant worthy of the name.Mr Katzen's windows oftenheld my attention, for he dealtin ostrich feathers, boas,karosses, leopard and otherskins lined and mounted.

Miscellanies offered by thepawnbrokers were also ofinterest, but I had not yet learntto study the bottles displayedby the wine merchants. MrPolliak described himself inthose days as a phonographdealer. No doubt there werevoices in the shop that wouldcommand high prices today,lost voices on long-forgottencylindrical records. Carusomust have been there. Possiblythere was a recitation by Sarah

Bernhardt, Paderewski at thepiano, Dan Leno singing ... allthose voices may have driftedout into Long Street from oneof Mr Polliak's phonographs.

Long Street had an Italian Clubat that time, a Chinese laundry,the London Tea Company, afireworks depot, Van Veelo thetobacconist and Charles Villetthe fishing-tackle dealer.Grocers had their stables closeto their shops, powerful

stallions munching in theirstalls after delivering the goods.Harness-makers flourished.The small workshops of candlemakers and soap-boilers hadnot yet disappeared.

"These old streets and narrowalleys have watched the story of

the town roll by with thecenturies"

Fires provided real drama inthose days. To my regret I cameon the scene three decades afterthe old Malay brigade had beendisbanded. Known as pomplompies, they wore unsuitableconical straw hats, short jacketsand wide trousers. Church bellswere tolled when a fire was

reported and the Malay firemenraced out of their homes orplaces of work and manned thehand-pumps. There were fewabsentees for each manreceived five shillings a fire, bigmoney at that time, more thana day's ordinary pay. However, aserious fire broke out inLongmarket Street one day inthe eighteen-eighties, the fourmanual engines were late andthe fire spread to Long Street.Troops were called out to keep

the crowds in order. Fixbayonets! Citizens then felt thatCape Town needed a moreefficient brigade. Ten yearslater the Burg Street fire stationwas opened, with steam fireengines; but horses remainedin service for many years andwere not replaced by machinesuntil the internal combustionengine had become fairlyreliable. The departure of thehorse-drawn engines from BurgStreet, the mad gallop through

the streets with bells clanging,the headlong arrival at theblaze; these were scenes thatgripped not only schoolboys butthe whole population. Fire!Fire! The blue-clad firemenwith polished helmets andbrass shoulder-straps (usuallyex-sailors) were heroes indeed.The roaring, crackling andhissing noises of a great blazeformed an orchestra ofdestruction. This was betterthan watching a man

swallowing glass or playing theJew's harp. Here was fiercemusic and a glimpse of theinferno.

South-easters still roar downLong Street but some of the oldsounds have gone. Once youheard the Sea Point trainspassing across the end of thestreet, wheels clicking over therails. At night there would bethe flare from the locomotivefirebox and the lights of the

carriages. But the sound I recallover the years was one thatcould only have come up thestreet when Table Bay wascloser than it is today. I wasnear the palms, a long way upLong Street, when I sawa steamer moving out of thebay. She was going out in theevening, heading seawards atthe end of a burning Decemberday; she was leaving the heatand the hot people of thestreets, going out into a cooler

and more peaceful night thanwe would know. As she wenther siren gave a long farewell. Ishall hear the south-easteragain but sirens have changedwith the years and thatplaintive siren note has gonewith the ships of yesterday.

1 Chapter note 1: Cape Townonce kept five hundred horsesand mules for dirt-carts andother purposes. Horse-drawncleansing carts disappeared

finally from the streets inNovember, 1969. Early in 1970the municipality still ownednearly seventy horses, theyoungest six, the oldest twenty-two. They were sent to theStrandfontein sewagetreatment works to end theirdays grazing in the richpastures there. Two hundredhorses and one hundred andfifty mules owned by the SouthAfrican Railways were stabledin Port Road, and the Malay

drivers lived there, too, in adepressing row of corrugatediron hovels. This wagontransport headquarters wasbuilt in 1910 and disappearedfinally in 1970.

Chapter Two - UncleMac's Secret

In the days when freeentertainment meant a lot tome I met Mr C. S. H.MacKenzie, known to hisaudiences as Uncle Mac. Hewas a versatile performer andonly when times were reallybad did he join the hard-bittenpavement troupers. I saw himwith his Punch and Judy showon the sands at Muizenberg but

he preferred to appear atchildren's parties and in the bigstores at Christmas time. UncleMac was a singer,impersonator, comedian andventriloquist. I first saw him onthe stage in an Adderley Streetstore with a dummy he calledCockney Joe. Many yearsafterwards he came into thenewspaper office and told mehis story. He was a tallish manwith a fine head of blonde hair,a roguish smile, blue twinkling

eyes and lines of good humourall over his mobile face. Hecould alter his expression in atrice and I saw in him a manwho had indeed played manyparts.

"I came to Cape Town for myhealth at the end of lastcentury, when I was twenty-one," Mac started. "Arthritis,that was my trouble. Now I'mcured. But I nearly killed myselfgiving a Punch and Judy show

one day. You know that queervoice Punch has - they call itthe 'Punch call' in the trade.Well, you have a sort of flat tin-whistle in your mouth toproduce the traditional voice. Iswallowed that whistle. Italmost choked me. I got it backat last and carried on with theshow but now I always have along thread on the whistle. Younever can tell. I knew a Punchand Judy man who got thewhistle in his lungs and that

was the end of him."

I asked Mac aboutventriloquism. "Anyone canlearn the game in anamateurish sort of way," Macreplied. "But some people arebetter equipped for it thanothers and there are a few tradesecrets." Mac said he discoveredhis ability to "throw the voice"when he was a child. He wasalways doing imitations and henoticed that his listeners would

often look over their shouldersas though his voice was comingfrom somewhere behind them.Then he realised that he couldmake people believe there wassomeone in a cupboard or achimney. "It is simply a matterof breath control combinedwith acting," Mac explained."You have to contract yourglottis, the opening at the top ofthe windpipe between the vocalchords, so that the modulationof the voice is affected. Then

you let the breath out slowly,using only the tip of the tonguefor talking. The pressure on thevocal chords diffuses the sound,giving the impression ofdistance. Stand in front of amirror, breathe in deeply,clench your teeth and smile.Then let the air out slowly as Isaid before and squeeze yourvoice into a few simple phrasessuch as: 'How are you?' Tobecome an expert you must doregular exercises to get your

jaws, throat, neck and tongueinto condition. The beginnermay feel the blood rushing intohis head when he forces thesound from a tightly-closedthroat. But I'll show you - thenyou'll be able to do it yourself."

Mac turned his smilingindiarubber face towards me fora moment and I realised thatthis was an art that was not tobe mastered in one lesson. Hewent over to a large cupboard in

my office, rapped on the door,bent down and called: "Hellothere -who's inside?" A muffledvoice replied in Afrikaans. "I'mafraid I can't understand -please translate for me," saidMac apologetically. This wasthe trick that had fooledaudiences all over South Africafor half a century. Mac may nothave been thoroughly bilingualbut he had the accent and awide range of useful andhumorous phrases. When an

Afrikaans voice came out of abox or a barrel and Mac askedfor an interpreter there werealways volunteers.

He opened my office door,stood back and informed methat there was someone in thepassage. "I want to see MisterGreen," said the voice. "I've gotto see him. It's urgent. Let mein." I almost left my desk forMac's acting had been perfect."See the idea now?" inquired

Mac. "Our ears are alwaysdeceiving us. We often simplydo not know where certainsounds are coming from. Birdsare natural ventriloquists -when they hide in a bush andsing you can't locate them. Aventriloquist cannot throw hisvoice but by directing the eyesof the audience to a certainpoint he can make his voicesound as though it is comingfrom a distance. When thevocal distortion produces a near

voice we call it 'the grunt'.Punch and Judy men use 'thegrunt'. A remote voice is knownin the trade as 'the drone'. Youpush back your tongue andsend nearly all the sound outthrough your nose and thefurther you force back thedrone the more distant it seemsto be."

Mac was an unrepentantpractical joker. He loved to stopdead at a pillar-box, listen

intently until a crowd gatheredand then tap on the metal andutter the familiar question:"Hello there - who's inside?"His faint but convincingAfrikaans voice seemed to havecome out of loads of hay onfarms, parrots' cages, kennelsand chimneys. Mac told meabout the ventriloquist whofollowed a family processioninto a church for a baptism. Asthe minister sprinkled theinfant the tiny mouth opened

and the ventriloquist saw thathis moment had come. "Ohmom, the water is so cold," thebaby appeared to say. Macdisapproved of that sort ofthing. "Going a bit too far," heremarked. "The godmothermight have dropped the baby."

Mac brought a dummy into myoffice one day, a Buffalo Billcharacter, long-haired andbearded, with an Americanaccent. "Dummies are easier

than distant voices," heexplained. "Making a dummytalk is more acting than trueventriloquism. You just keepyour lips still and bring thedummy to life, not only bymoving the mouth as you talkbut also by manipulating theeyes, head and limbs. It calls fora lot of rehearsing in front of amirror. You have to achieveclose timing - then the listenersalmost forget that the cheekylittle fellow on the

ventriloquist's knee is apuppet."

Of course the voice of thedummy has to be entirelydifferent in pitch and accentfrom the natural voice of theventriloquist. Mac had manydialects in his repertory. Hisdummies had strong, richvoices. Mac was always thequiet man in the background, asubdued personality rathershocked by the impertinent and

embarrassing remarks of thedummy.

"Just twenty-five pounds ofmetal and wood, rubber androds and levers and glass eyes,"Mac reminded me. "But theaudience soon invests thatmechanism with a humancharacter. It is the star of theshow, such is the power ofmake-believe. The dummymust always remain the centreof attention."

I asked Mac to repeat a famoussentence without moving hislips: "Peter Piper picked a peckof pickled peppers." Macadmitted that it was impossible."You have to avoid using theletters 'b' and 'p'", he explained."Use 't' instead of 'p' and 'd'instead of 'b'. The letter 'm' isdifficult, too, so substitute 'n'.Some ventriloquists twitchtheir mouths to overcome theseproblems. You hear one say'gred and gutter' instead of

'bread and butter'. But there aremen at the top of the professionwho can say almost anythingwithout a twitch of the mouth.They do it with the tips of theirtongue - I wish that I could."

Mac told me that he had foundgood ventriloquists among theZulus. Witchdoctors made useof ventriloquism in the sameway as the old pagan oracles ofGreece and the high priests ofthe Pharaohs. Mac knew a lot

about his distinguishedpredecessors. He spoke of aFrench ventriloquist whoentertained Napoleon andJosephine by mimicking all thesounds of a distant foxhunt.Another old hand namedAlexandre once stopped a shipby making the master believethat there was a man in thewater shouting for help. Lastcentury and even later the greatventriloquists put large groupsof dummies on the stage, with a

husband and wife quarrellingand the children taking part inthe scene. Arthur Prince, theEnglish ventriloquist, had thecrew of a man-o'-war filling thestage; another performerproduced a court scene inwhich he played the jester.Then came talking parrots andtalking cats. The ancient art ofventriloquism almost died outwhen the talkies killedvaudeville but it was revived bythe great Edgar Bergen and his

dummy Charlie McCarthy. Theimpudent Charlie came outwith jokes that were quoted allover the world. Ventriloquistswho had known hard timessuddenly found their services indemand again. Senor Wences,the Spanish ventriloquist,arrived on the scene about thesame time as Bergen but it wasafter World War II that Wencesbecame famous. Wences is asupreme exponent of the"talking hand", a dummy made

in a few seconds by using twodiscs held between the fingersas eyes, a little black wool ashair and a lipstick mouth.

Years ago I saw in Cape Town aventriloquist known as DrWalford Bodie raise a glass ofwater to his lips and empty it -or so it seemed -while hisdummy was singing. I askedMac how this was done. "Thereare two ways," he replied. "Mostventriloquists use the easy

method, a trick glass in whichthe water disappears into ahidden container. The otherway is dangerous because thewater may go down the wrongway and bring on a painfulattack of coughing.Nevertheless it is possible todrink and sing at the sametime. Harry Lester, the greatAmerican ventriloquist of thepre-World War I era, carriedout this feat every night. Once ahumorist in the orchestra filled

the glass with wine. Lester wastaken by surprise but he wenton with the show, remainingperfectly calm while his dummyshook in a paroxysm ofcoughing. Yes, that jokeappeared to choke the dummy.Lester was a great artist."

Mac informed me thatventriloquism was not all pureentertainment. It was beingused in the United States tohelp polio victims with

weakened throat muscles.Exercises which involve thediaphragm, carried out bypeople learning ventriloquism,had been found useful by poliospecialists. Stammerers arehelped in the same way. Atraffic officer taught schoolchildren the principles of roadsafety by putting a dummy incharge of the lecture. Someyears ago a Baptist ministerfound that he could drive homehis religious messages more

effectively with the aid of adummy known as Joe theBaptist.

At the end of one long andfascinating session with UncleMac I urged him to tell meanything important, any secrethe had left out of ourconversation. "Well yes, I mustconfess that all the greatventriloquists possess aphysical peculiarity," Macanswered candidly. "It is a sort

of natural resonance formed inthe space between the third andfourth ribs and the sternum. Iam thankful to say that I haveit. Those who are blessed in thisway can work up a vibration ofthe voice which helps themtremendously in their work.Just listen to this."

Mac stood there vibratingvisibly. To my astonishment Iheard in turn a police siren, acircular saw, a deep-toned

church organ, the lowing of acow, a noise like the swarmingof bees, the neighing of a horseand the comb and paper soundof an aircraft taking off. It cameto me suddenly that this wasnot an art to be learnt throughthe post or in a library. This wasa sort of genius and I wonderedwhether Mac had gained a fairreward for his thousand andone performances. "Yes, I'vedone pretty well," Mac declaredfinally. I've made a lot of people

laugh."

Chapter Three - WithLaughter And With Glee

There is a tavern in the town,

And there my true love sits himdown,

And drinks his wine withlaughter and with glee,

And never, never thinks of me.

ANON.

Soon after leaving school Ientered a mellow world withgreat educational possibilities, aworld that I had only glimpsedpreviously. It was there in a puboff Plein Street that I met Harryfor the first time. "Be of goodcheer, place a foot on the railand an elbow on the counter,"Harry invited. "Beer is best andbeggar the Band of Hope."

Harry was one of thosesplendid men who live without

thought of tomorrow. He was alittle chap with Victorian sidechoppers, reddish when I firstmet him and grey yearsafterwards. His mild, humorouseyes were experienced. At timeshe had the manners of adiplomat and I took him for oneof those English familyretainers who had by chancebecome a barman. No, saidHarry, he had always been abarman. He asked me not tomention his surname as some

of his relatives did not approveof the bar trade. Harry reachedCape Town from Englandtowards the end of last centuryand he had polished glasses andcounters everywhere fromSalisbury to Durban, fromKimberley to Simonstown. Hewas enormously interested inbars, hotels and restaurants andwhen he spoke of bygone innsand taverns you might haveformed the opinion that hewent back a century or more.

Harry was a living repository ofthe lore and legend of hischosen profession and he lovedtalking about the bars he hadknown. He was my favouritebarman.

As you know, barmen are oftencalled upon to settle arguments."Customer asked me which wasCape Town's oldest pub - andblowed if I could tell him,"remarked Harry one day. "Notfor certain, that is. But I did my

best." Harry then gave me thebenefit of his research work inthis refreshing field. CapeTown, said Harry, was one ofthe thirstiest seaports in theworld and there had been somany pubs that a man couldeasily lose track of them."Before my time, in the middleof last century, there was onecanteen to every couple ofhundred people," Harrydeclared. "Even when I got herethere were practically no liquor

restrictions. Sunday closing hadcome into force but otherwisealmost anyone could get alicence and sell liquor at almostany hour. Hard work it was, too,with regular customersdropping in for their breakfastsof whisky and milk and othersplaying cards until the earlyhours of the morning."

I reminded Harry about hishistorical research. "Ah, yes, theoldest pub," he went on. "Some

say the Thatched Tavern heldthe record because it was in thesame place for so long. Oldprints show a single-storiedthatched building which mayhave been there in theeighteenth century as a privatehouse. But no one knows whenit became an inn." Harry saidthe Thatched Tavern was oncegiven as a wedding present to areporter who attended meetingsat the Town House next door; awonderful present that enabled

the bridegroom to retire fromjournalism. At that period towncouncillors met in the ThatchedTavern and settled theirbusiness before going on to theofficial meetings.

Harry thought the FountainHotel in Hout Street might beCape Town's oldest pub. LordHawke's cricket team stayedthere at the end of last century;the hotel was then nearly ahundred years old. Harry Magor

was the proprietor and therewas a fountain in the lounge.Magor had a framedadvertisement dated 1860 inwhich the Fountain wasoffering "brandy smashes,brandy punches and sherrycobblers". But a claim mightalso be made out for the Sun inZieke Street, now CorporationStreet. Bob Vokes, a Currie Linesteward who became owner ofthe Sun, traced the licence backto the early years of last

century. Harry also mentionedthe Gloucester Bar inCommercial Street (formerlyBoom Street) which had thecoat-of-arms of a distinguishedHuguenot family over thefront-door. The main receptionrooms became the bars. Thenthere was the Oriental Hotel inLeeuwen Street, built like afarm homestead with a highstoep in Dutch East India days.

Charlie Frisch, a diamond and

gold pioneer, had the placeduring World War I; and hisfather, a Crimean War veteran,was one of the bar characters.Harry had the Waterford Armsin Loop Street on his list, forthe bar had been there since theeighteen-twenties. Fishermenwere good customers for manyyears. [1] There was the BodegaBar, which closed downvoluntarily during World War I,a most unusual event; the GoodHope in Loop Street and the

Crescent; all old pubs. Harrycould not place the Black Horse(on the present Red Lion site)but he recalled a Welshmannamed Charles Beer taking itover in 1900 and trebling thebusiness. Beer had been afishmonger. He offered hiscustomers brown stout andoysters, and every mail boatbrought him salmon and turbotand Yarmouth bloaters.

Out in the suburbs there was

that old Claremont landmarkthe Crown, standing in its acresof fruit trees. The Crown wasfamous for wedding breakfasts.People drove there in Capecarts and carriages at weekendsand on holidays. During theeighteen-eighties the proprietoradvertised skittles, bicycleracing, picnics under the trees.Coloured lanterns decoratedthe Crown's private forest atnight and Christy's stringquartet played for the dancers.

Scenes at the Crown before theenforcement of Sunday closingresembled an English countryfair. A modern and more sedateCrown was sold in 1969 fornearly a quarter of a millionRands. Harry also mentionedthe Old Standard at Wynberg,opened early last century as YeOlde Standard. It is possiblethat Arthur Wellesley, laterDuke of Wellington, visited theStandard for he lived atWaterloo Green close by. Mr

Louis Briel, a recent proprietorof the Standard, retired tobecome a landscape painter.

Furniture and decorations insome of Cape Town's old barswould be worth fortunes today.Harry described the Queen ofthe South, a romantic nameindeed, in Buitenkant Street.He said that George Cummings,the owner, filled every roomwith valuable antiques.Cummings was there for thirty-

five years, but he lost hislicence during World War I.After closing time on the lastday poor old George Cummingswas found dead behind thecounter. It was thought at firstthat he had committed suicidebut the inquest verdict was"natural causes". He could notbear the idea of parting with theQueen of the South and hemust have died of a brokenheart.

Harry remembered the timewhen the Grand Hotel bar inStrand Street resembled amuseum. Mr Hartley Tillotson,the lessee, had one of the finestcollections of animal heads andhorns in Southern Africa; twohundred pairs of horns, somenoteworthy for perfectsymmetry, others for strangedeformities. Tillotson wasknown in the trade as "theGenial". He spent forty yearscollecting his specimens and

told strange tales in his bar ofvisits to remote kraals andlonely places in search ofrarities.

Customers at the Clyde in DorpStreet early this century foundthemselves in a sort of artgallery. A painter namedSutherland had decorated theceiling with a sky of fleecyclouds. On the walls were canalscenes in Holland, landscapesfrom Ireland and Wales, a view

of Prince's Street, Edinburgh,Conway Castle and Stratford-on-Avon. "That sort of thinggives a pub atmosphere," Harryconfided one day. "I've seeneverything in my time.Shipwreck relics, skulls of fishand python skins, daggers andbandoliers, matchboxes fromevery land on earth,blunderbusses and antiquepistols. I like to see pewter alepots and old copper spirit-measures - they suit a pub

better than a wall-eyed buckbitten to death by moths."

Many of the old bars of CapeTown have been transformedwithin living memory,especially those in the harbourarea. Mechau Street (off DockRoad) was a waterfront streetwhen the first inn was builtthere more than two centuriesago. Title deeds show that alittle building with a dining-room, kitchen and two

bedrooms was known a centuryago as the Somerset Hotel.Steamers were competing withsailing-ships in those days andthe hotel proprietor changedthe name to the Fireman'sArms to attract thirsty stokers.The ancient pub was pulleddown about sixty years ago anda new Fireman's Arms arose onthe historic site. Firemendwindled when ships beganusing oil fuel and the Fireman'sArms was adopted by the

growing army of motor-mechanics. It is one of thosehomely bars with a clubatmosphere. Four hundredmembers have their own glassbeer tankards inscribed withtheir names. Mr EmmanuelZammit, a Maltese seaman,fulfilled a well-known seafaringambition by becoming managerof the pub in 1907 and he wasstill there, working behind thecounter, in 1969 on hisninetieth birthday. In his youth

Zammit served in the RoyalNavy. He was a survivor of thehistoric collision between thebattleships Victoria andCamperdown in theMediterranean in 1893 whenhundreds of lives were lost.Emmanuel's son Ernest is oneof those saloon artists whodecorate their own walls withoil paintings. Here, too, a longglass known as a "yard of ale" isdisplayed; it is shaped ratherlike an old-fashioned coaching

horn and holds a quart or more.This is not the easiest way ofswallowing beer and the manwho emptied the glass in lessthan half a minute must havebeen an expert.

Micky Quinn, an Americanseaman, was manager of avenerable pub called the SilverTree in Waterkant Street duringthe 'eighties of last century.Troopships bound for India, theOrontes and Tagus, sometimes

called at Table Bay in thosedays. The soldiers were livelybut Quinn told Harry that thebusiest time he ever had waswhen hundreds of seamen fromHMS Raleigh flooded into thebars. "Those old sailor menwere jolly souls anxious forbeer and good company," Quinndeclared. "The toughestcustomers of all were RussianFinns who had made longvoyages under sail and hadmoney to burn." Harry said the

firemen who came later inAmerican ships were even morerowdy. They ran amuck after along dry spell at sea. Once theytook possession of the Carltonbar in Dock Road and brokeglasses, bottles and mirrorsworth one hundred and fiftypounds.

Monarch of Dock Roadpublicans for many years wasMaurice Goodall of the Queen'sHotel. I remember this great

sportsman with the lean faceand light moustache, for when Ijoined the old Table Bay YachtClub in 1916 he was a memberand had been the firstcommodore. Maurice Goodallarrived in Cape Town fromCanada as a child in theeighteen-seventies. His fatherbought the newly-built Queen'sHotel a few years later. Fatherand sons Maurice and Sid wereall redoubtable boxers and theyturned a room at the Queen's

into a gymnasium. TheQueen's, standing at the dockgates, was known as "the firstand last bar". Seamen orderedthe celebrated draught beer onarrival and also before re-embarking if they had anymoney left. Maurice Goodallowned the yacht Canada andgained a reputation for sailingin all weathers without reefing.After selling Canada he boughtthe fourteen-ton ketchBrighton Girl, which had sailed

out to Table Bay from England.Maurice boxed with Kid McCoyin South Africa and was apopular boxing referee.

One hot morning at ten I foundmyself in Harry's bar drinking aginger-ale while other clientsordered their eye-openers. Towatch Harry going into actionwas an inspiring sight. Somebarmen are mere pourers andglass-washers but Harry was acraftsman. His tools were

corkscrews and ice tongs, picksand scoops, strainers andfunnels. A pantry boy broughtin lemons and oranges, fruit,fresh milk and eggs, sprigs ofmint, castor sugar. Harry setout his cutting-board with fruitknife and lemon-peeler; thenhe was ready for any order fromcocktails to egg nog.

Those were the days whensnacks were free. Harry sent forfresh-roasted almonds, potato

crisps, cheese straws andcashew nuts. "They'll wantsomething more solid later inthe morning and I'll give it tothem," Harry declared. "Hotpotatoes go down well with aglass of beer. Some customerscome in here, buy one drinkand nibble a whole meal - butthe boss doesn't care andneither do I. Meat balls andcocktail sausages vanish atlunch-time like snow under thesun. I once worked for a

German who put out pig's-knuckles and sauerkraut, soupsand stews, corned beef, hugeslabs of hot roast beef - why,the aroma was worth the priceof a drink. But there was onething I noticed. He never gaveaway anything that wouldquench a customer's thirst."

Harry refilled a shaker bottlewith orange bitters, greeted anold customer and found theright drink before he asked for

it, emptied an ashtray and filleda jug with fresh ice-water."What do you give 'em for ahangover, Harry?" I asked.

"Suissesse," he replied. "It's notmuch good, mind you. Bettertake a glass of milk before youstart and avoid drinking toomuch. But a Suissesse helpssome of 'em - white of egg,jigger of pernod, dash ofanisette and soda. That remindsme, a barman in Cape Town

once won a prize of onehundred pounds for inventing acocktail with white of egg in it.He called it a 'South Easter' andshook up a tot of vodka, a tot oforange juice, tot of passionfruit, juice of half a lemon, dashof Angostura and, of course, theegg. It made a nice sightdecorated with fruit, cherry anda sprig of mint and topped upwith lemonade. Anotherbarman won a smaller prizewith a mixture of Van der Hum

and brandy, Tia Maria andcream. However, I would ratherhave a whisky any day."

"Scotch?" I inquired.

"Scotch of course," repliedHarry firmly. "Irish whiskey isstrictly for the Irish, likeshamrocks and shillelaghs. Theflavour of pot still Irish whiskeyis entirely different fromScotch. What you get in thefinest Scotch whisky is a blendof malt and grain whiskies in

equal parts. A pure drink withthe aroma of peat and alcoholand heather. Why, I knew acommercial traveller who wason the road in South Africa fornearly half a century. He dranka bottle of Scotch a day,sometimes two bottles, andwhen I last saw him he wasgetting on for eighty. Of coursehe always took his Scotch withwater - fourteen thousandbottles of Scotch."

"How about Bourbon?" I asked.

"Only fit for Southern colonelswith goatee beards," declaredHarry. "Give me a Plymouth ginat lunch-time and Scotchwhisky in the evening. Andremember, when you have ginand bitters you must neverdrown the gin by using toomuch bitters. Three drops ofAngostura and you get the bite,the tang, the true flavour."

Harry said that most barmen

liked an occasional drink butsome found it easier to beteetotallers. Such a one wasMacdougal Sutherland,probably the oldest barman inSouthern Africa just afterWorld War II, for he was still atwork at the age of eighty.Macdougal's last job was out atBellville. He was known as"Have a cigar Mac" becausethere was usually a cigarbetween his lips. Macdougalgave up alcohol back in 1895.

He was an alert, clean-shavenScot with memories of earlydays on the Rand and he hadknown some of themillionaires. J. B. Robinsonannoyed him owing to his habitof leaving his white sun helmeton the bar counter; so one dayMacdougal retaliated bypainting the helmet black.Macdougal was dismissed butsoon found another job at DeAar. The railway workers therepersuaded their barman to

stand for Parliament. He did so- and lost his deposit.

Harry informed me that he hadnever been ambitious. Threegood meals a day and a quietlife were enough. He had neverfound the work monotonousthough he had heard the sametoasts, the same discussionsyear after year. "Here's how!""Hope you choke!" "Over theriver!" "Looking at you!""Gesondheid!" For half a

century he had listened toracing talk, tales of unspeakableemployers, the weather, thesame smoking-room stories.Drunks? Harry knew how todeal with drunks. He busiedhimself at the far end of the barand simply could not find timeto serve them. Now and againhe managed to persuade adifficult customer to drinksomething harmless. "Veryawkward when a man passesout in the bar," Harry

explained. "You must have asort of instinct when youhandle drunks." However, itwas all in the day's work, likeorganising raffles and running aChristmas turkey club. Harryknew how to remain silentunless he was included in theconversation; he also knew howto steer a discussion away fromcontroversial subjects. Harrywas tolerant. He had the desireto please. He was the custodianof the poor man's "home from

home", a dedicated guardian oftradition. I doubt very muchwhether he had ever heard ofSamuel Johnson but he wouldhave agreed heartily with hisfamous words: "There isnothing which has yet beencontrived by man by which somuch happiness is produced, asby a good tavern or inn."

Cape Town had bars andboarding houses long beforethe first real hotel opened its

doors. The demand for food anddrink at the old "Tavern of theSeas" was put rather bluntly byGovernor van Assenburgh earlyin the eighteenth century. "It isas if the Cape is held togetherby gorging and boozing," hecomplained. Decades later theSwedish traveller JacobWallenberg declared:"Promenading the Company'sgarden is the only amusement.The Cape has no publicpleasures. Assembly rooms,

opera, masquerade are here notknown even by name. There isno tavern, no coffee house, nobilliard saloon, no news club. Idisregard some few alehousesfor sailors." Nevertheless otherwriters referred to the musicand dancing at the alehousesand the free pipes and freetobacco. Wallenberg was tooparticular.

Apparently the modern hotelera did not start in Cape Town

until after the British arrived.The first inn-keepers wereappointed by Van Riebeeck forreasons set out in his diary. VanRiebeeck wrote: "We have dailya large number of people whocome and fill at the Castle andthese people, including officersof ships, ministers of theChurch, sailors, soldiers,families and even barbers takewith them knives, forks anddishes thinking it belonged tothe honourable company and

that they could, therefore, helpthemselves." So Annetje Boom,wife of the chief gardener, wasallowed to open a tavern toprovide men from passing shipswith lodging and refreshment.Within two decades there wereso many taverns in thesettlement that the directors inHolland ordered all but nine tobe closed. Guests were notallowed to carry knives but theydrank Peter Visagie's local beer(regarded as a cure for scurvy)

and they could watch cock-fights. Cape wines came on themarket and "delicious Capebrandy" followed. Menus at theearly taverns, however, werenot luxurious. Fish was oftenplentiful and there werepenguin eggs from the islands.Seals and dassies providedsome of the meat; other meatwas usually salted. Smokedporcupine was a delicacy.Bacon, rice, flour and beanswere not to be enjoyed every

day. The meat shortage was soacute that even a lion wassalted down. Cakes and biscuitswere baked by two freemen "forthose who wish to live moredaintily". Tea and coffee wereunobtainable - hence the strongdemand for alcohol.

Full board cost three shillings aday early in the eighteenthcentury. Captain James Cookpaid only half-a-crown in theseventeen-seventies for

"victuals, drink and lodging".But the lodgings were privatehouses, varying greatly inamenities. One of the best atthe end of the eighteenthcentury was the widow Van denBergh's inn at the lower end ofLongmarket Street near theCastle and the company'sstables. It was described as "oneof the most handsome andlargest inns in the town".Distinguished visitors stayedthere and spoke of the

courtyard with vines on atrellis. The building, no longerhandsome, was still there a fewyears ago.

Innkeepers sent out runners inrowing-boats to meet shipsentering Table Bay and topersuade the passengers toaccompany them on shore. Theboats were rowed by blackslaves. When they camealongside a vessel the runnersstood up and shouted the

merits of their establishments;some had dancehalls with slavemusicians; harp and violin,flute and drum.

Mirza Khan, a Persian prince,called at the Cape just beforethe end of the eighteenthcentury and his diary includesunhappy experiences in variouslodgings. His first landlord,Barnet of Simonstown, hedescribes as "a very smoothspeaker and polite". Board and

lodging cost five rupees a day,then the equivalent of twelveshillings and sixpence. At firstthe prince's wishes wereattended to "without any noise,bustle or confusion". Later onBarnet became rude anddoubled the rates. The princethen moved on to Cape Townand was given a room in Mr.Clarke's house. He was unableto have a bath, hot or cold.Clarke turned out to be "asgreat a blackguard as Barnet".

The prince was interested infood and visited the markets."The sheep here are of thelarge-tailed species and afford agreat quantity of grease andtallow," he wrote. "Vegetablesare very good and in greatvariety but their wheat and riceare indifferent. Fresh butter iswith difficulty procured butthere appears to be a greatabundance of everything else.Meat is 7½d a pound, bread 3da pound and eggs 3d

each. Washing is also verydear." Prince Mirza Khan hireda room in the house of "aworthy Musselman" whobehaved with the greatestattention and kindness.

Samuel Hudson and his brotherThomas appear to have beenthe English hotel pioneers inCape Town. They had a "familyhotel" facing the Parade in1802; and the following yearthey applied to the government

for another private hotelpermit, making it clear thatthey did not intend to run atavern or gaming house. Thiswas granted and Hudson'sHotel in the Heerengracht soongained a good reputation. Theyadvertised their meals, offeringdressed ham, brawn, collaredbeef, potted venison andtongues and Colyn's red andwhite Constantia wines.

"Soon after leaving school Ientered a mellow world withgreat educational possibilities"

I think the honour of openingthe first licensed hotel must goto Edward George, a Londoner,whose George Hotel in HoutStreet was regarded in 1817 asthe best hotel in the town.George moved to theHeerengracht twelve years laterand all agreed that his newestablishment was "smart and

expensive". Meanwhile aformidable rival had appeared,the St. George's Hotel at thecorner of St. George's andChurch Street. The first St.George's Hotel was a typicalhandsome old Cape Townmansion with one storey and awide verandah. The second St.George's was built in 1872 andearly this century it was famousfor its cocktail bar, presidedover by Hildebrand; the longestbar in Cape Town. Mr T.

Mulvihal, a great racing man inhis day, lost a fortune as ownerof the hotel. A famous managerwas Mr L. Leuw, who wentfrom the St. George's to Gatti's,the Bohemian restaurant in theStrand, London. (Leuw tried toturn Gatti's into a South Africanoutpost, offering Cape wines,fruit, biltong and penguin eggs;but he failed to secure thenecessary support.) The St.George's Hotel was pulled downa few years before World War II

to make way for an extension toan insurance building.

Back to the Heerengracht of theeighteen-forties. William Parke,a confectioner who also ran'buses to Wynberg, decided toenter the hotel trade. He hadbeen running Papenboom, theold brewery in NewlandsAvenue, as a boarding-house;now he opened Parke's Hotel atthe corner of Heerengracht andStrand Street, the present

Grand Hotel site. Parkes, withthe aid of his wife and prettydaughters made a great successof it. "Warm and cold baths areavailable at any hour of theday," Parkes announced, anovelty at that period.

Another comfortable hotel wasthe Imperial in theKeizersgracht, facing theParade. Boarders paid sevenpounds a month and the dailyrate was seven shillings and

sixpence. The hotel moved toShortmarket Street and is nowthe Green Hansom. For manyyears there was a MasonicHotel near the Parade, ahostelry noted for gargantuanmeals. I have before me aMasonic banquet menu. Guestswere offered two soups, stewedfish, poached eggs, beef olives,Indian curry and rice, roastpartridge, eight other poultrydishes, four roasts and elevensweets.

Members of the old CapeHouse often lunched at theCommercial Hotel in GraveStreet, now Parliament Street.Tapioca and tomato soup costsixpence, boiled fish withanchovy sauce was sixpence.Stuffed sheep's heart, stewedtrotters and tomatoes, haricotchops, Indian curry, roast duckand roast mutton were allpriced at one shilling. Roastgoose was the most expensivedish, one shilling and three

pence, and you wound up withapple dumplings, sixpence.Parliamentarians alsopatronised Poole's Hotel inQueen Victoria Street, an olddouble-storied, flat-roofedbuilding. It was nearly acentury old when it wasdemolished in the nineteen-thirties. Rhodes and Jamesonoften lunched at Poole's duringthe session. Vere Stent,journalist and warcorrespondent, was there one

day when a Cockney waiterpointed to Rhodes and hisfriends and whispered: "Therethey sits a-plottin', and a-plottin' and a-plottin'." Thisoccurred during a dramaticperiod and the waiter wasprobably right.

Plein Street had a Hoteld'Europe in the eighteen-sixties, a grand old mansionwith a high, broad stoep alongthe full length of the building.

Fanlights and sash windows,heavy mouldings, urns andwreaths of plaster flowers, teakwoodwork and steps of yellowklompje bricks made a splendidfacade. This hotel became theRoyal, the famous Royal. Themansion gave way to a newbuilding specially designed asan hotel with one hundred andtwenty bedrooms. BarneyBarnato often stayed there.Isidore Hirsch managed theRoyal early this century. He and

his wife Rosa came fromGermany and started by sellingtea and coffee on theMuizenberg station platform.They ran Farmer Peck's,Hirsch's Hotel and the Marinebefore moving into the city.That great hotelier GeorgeKoenig took charge of the Royalshortly before World War I andgave value such as Cape Townhad not known before. Koenighad worked in Monte Carlo andCairo, Constantinople and

London. He had been chef,head waiter, manager of theRand Club, and he spokeseveral languages. His sons hadto start in the kitchen to learnthe art of hotel-keeping as theirfather had done. George Koenigloved to act as host to otherleading South African hoteliers.You might find him sharing abottle of champagne with PierreEtellin of the Carlton,Johannesburg; the man whoworked under Escoffier and

catered for King Edward VII.Michael Zoccola always calledon Koenig. Zoccola wassuccessful at the GrandNational but the huge vineyardhe planned on the LombardyEstate was a colossal failure. Noone wanted Transvaal wine.

When the International Hotel,Mill Street, opened in theeighteen-eighties, T. W.O'Callaghan the proprietoradvertised the first hotel tennis

court in South Africa. One ofHeinrich Egersdorfer'spaintings shows bearded menin hats and jackets and womenin corsets taking part in mixeddoubles there. The band of theFifty-eighth Regiment played inthe garden and the hugeverandah was crowded at everyperformance. O'Callaghan wasnoted for his hospitality tovisiting priests and nuns; theywere never presented with abill.

You may have noticed thenumber of Cape Town bars andhotels that came into thepossession of seafarers.Nicholas Adelaine, for example,was a Greek who exchanged thedeck of a sailing-ship in 1890for the hotel trade. He becameproprietor of the Good HopeHotel in Loop Street and leaderof the Greek community inCape Town. Adeline (sic)helped to build the GreekChurch of St. George at

Woodstock. He was Greekconsul for years and duringWorld War I the King of Greeceawarded him a knighthood forhis services. Adelaine oftenserved interesting Greek dishesat the Good Hope;taramosalata and roast lambon skewers. A later proprietorcatered for a Royal Air Forcereunion dinner and was askedto put on roast peacock withchestnuts. Peacock is agorgeous cousin of the turkey

but the flesh was popular onlyat the time when turkeys wereunknown. The tough andtasteless peacock requiresskilful cooking if it is to becomepalatable. A Durbanville farmersupplied the peacocks and theywere served in the traditionalstyle at the Good Hope with thetail feathers as decoration. Thismenu reminds me of a feastdevised by the celebrated Capehotelier A. O. Hoppé when agovernor was attending a

banquet under his roof. Themenu was printed on green silk.The dinner included caviar,oyster soup, English salmon,wild duck, quail on toast, roastbeef, roast lamb and roastturkey, duckling, Englishpheasant and the finest winethe world has ever known,Chateau Lafite.

The original Grand Hotel inStrand Street was bought by theUnion S.S. Company and rebuilt

in the eighteen-nineties in astyle "equal to London andParis". There were electriclights on the tables, Axminstercarpets, a grand piano and abalcony promenade threehundred and fifty feet long andtwelve feet wide. The site hadcost the company £26,000 andthe building about the sameamount. Shop tenants wereinformed that "the front of thehotel is a popular Cape Townpromenade where youth and

beauty meet". Lunch at theofficial opening, prepared bythe French chef, started withturtle soup and sherry and wenton luxuriously to Scotchsalmon, boiled turbot, lobsterpatties, cutlets, quenelles,pigeon, a claret sorbet, punch,capons braised in champagne,roast saddle of mutton, lardedfillet of beef, grand specialchampagne, grouse, diplomatpudding and five other sweets.French apple tarts were offered,

followed by caviar as a savouryand an iced pudding. It was apoint of honour in those days, Igather, to serve only importeddelicacies. What time, I wonder,did the lunch end?

Hotel grading has killed manypicturesque hotels in the Capedistricts, those romantic oldcoaching inns of the transportroads. Among the survivors isthe Houw Hoek Hotel, said tobe the oldest of them all. It

stands in a wooded hollow closeto the giant Bluegum tree. Thiswas once a famous halt fortravellers bound from CapeTown to Caledon. Lady AnneBarnard enjoyed boiled chicken"fit for an emperor" at this inn.Lady Duff Gordon commentedfavourably on the absence offleas. She paid nine shillings fordinner, bed and breakfast.When the railway came toHouw Hoek the innkeeperserved meals to passengers on

the platform. Inevitably theabsurd story was told of thesoup being so hot that thecustomers had no time to eatthe rest of the meal. They werenot such fools! Many countryhotels of the transport daysstarted as thatched, wattle anddaub winkels; corrugated ironand matchboard lining camelater. Only the more prosperousowners had a piano or billiardtable. Light was supplied byenormous paraffin lamps.

Floors were of mis or stampedearth. You might find sucha place almost hidden in themountains beside a willowlined stream. The barmanwould sell you anything from amouse-trap to a pair of sheep-shears. If you looked into thestables you realised that foryears the guests had arrived inCape carts or on horseback. Thecombined hotel, shop and postoffice has not disappeared,though the furnishings are

probably more luxurious thanthey were in the days of myyouth. How well I rememberthe gin bottles serving as watercarafes, the little thread-baretowels, the enormous carvedsideboard in the dining-room.Now and again, close to amodern hotel, you can see theold place still serving as anannex.

Almost within living memorythe hotels at Woodstock were

out in open country. Ahomestead on the Van der Bylfarm at Woodstock became theLord Milner Hotel. It stood in avineyard and between the hoteland the sea were only thebushes and the dunes. LordMilner and "Onze Jan"Hofmeyr stayed at this hotel.The farm dairy is now used as awine cellar and the bar was theroom where the Van der Bylchildren had their lessons.Woodstock has another

celebrated hotel, the Altona,named after an old farm in thearea. Jimmy Weight, a seamanfrom the cable steamer GreatNorthern, held the lease in theearly years of this century. Hisson Bob gave up the lease fiftyyears later. On the last nightBob Weight received a goldwatch from his regularcustomers. Drinks were on thehouse and more than threehundred "free loaders" attendedthe ceremony. Bottles of beer,

whisky, gin and brandy werehanded over the counter. BobWeight and two friends whowere with him at Delville Woodwere escorted from the bar byCaledonian Society pipers. Thehotel was then taken over by abrewery. It was the end of along day's march for BobWeight.

Cogill's at Wynberg was openedby William Cogill in the middleof last century. Cogill was a

dentist and he left a museum-piece at the hotel, a dentist'schair with treadle for drillingand other fearsome equipment.Evidently he found hotel-keeping profitable for he alsoowned the Halfway House atDiep River and the Anchor atSimonstown. Cogill's wasrebuilt completely at differentperiods; the final Tudor stylewith gabled bottle-store was asrecent as World War II. Cogill'swas kept busy during all the

wars by soldiers from WynbergCamp. Thousands of burgersarrived in Wynberg duringWorld War I on their way toGerman South West Africa.One pay-day found them on theMain Road, running horse-races which were started byrifle-shots. Cogill's was thefinishing-post and the scenes inthe bar that day werememorable. Towards the end of1969 the hotel became a patchof bare red soil.

Down the road from Cogill'sthere was once an eighteenthcentury farmhouse that wasturned into an inn. The farmerenriched himself by refreshinghorsemen on the road betweenCape Town and Simonstown. Inthe eighteen-twenties the innwas known as Merckell's"Traveller's Joy". Then a merrygiant from Germany namedJohan George Rathfelderbecame landlord and made theplace famous. Rathfelder

appears in many travel booksand reminiscences and most ofthe authors spoke favourably ofthe inn. Anglo-Indians, armyofficers, colonial officials andmembers of the Cape HuntClub loved the isolatedbuilding, two miles from anyother habitation. The inn hadtwo storeys and a broadverandah round it. A room onthe ground floor was decoratedwith guns, racing-pictures andhorn. Rathfelder was described

as "the king of landlords". Ajournalist wrote withenthusiasm in the "CapeMonitor" of riding up toRathfelder's at noon andenjoying foaming tankards ofale and a glorious steak.Goncharov, the Russiannovelist, called there in themiddle of last century andnoted the huge cedar tree in thecourtyard, fig trees, bananas,grapes, cucumbers and flowers.He was given a breakfast of

omelette, tough cold beef andtough hot ham. Huntsmenseemed to have fared better fortheir usual breakfast was animmense cold turkey. (Theyhunted the Cape fox or silverjackal.) Prince Alfred was atRathfelder's in 1860 and Bowlerpainted the scene when theyoung royal visitor arrived. Oneof the prince's companionswrote: "Rathfelder's was a hotelequal to the best of the fast-expiring roadside inns of

England when stagecoacheswere still in their prime andrailways yet were not." It wentdownhill after Rathfelder'sdeath, however, for Lady DuffGordon said it was "dirty anddisorderly". The EatonConvalescent Home now standson the site.

As I say farewell to thevanished menus and pastglories of Cape Town's oldhotels I glance wistfully at the

prices they charged at the endof last century. Fifteen shillingswould see you in a room at theMount Nelson for a day with allmeals included. For twelve andsix you could stay at theQueen's, Sea Point, or theGrand in Strand Street. Cogill's,the International, Poole's, theSt. George's and the Vineyard atNewlands were all ten bob. Ifyou wished to find comfortwithout spending too much theWhite House gave you

accommodation in the city withthree excellent meals for sevenshillings and sixpence. No starsin those days, no air-conditioning or privatebathrooms; but how I wish wecould put the clock back.

1 Chapter note 1: The WaterfordArms was demolished inDecember 1969 to make way fora tower block. The walls werethree feet thick and somewindows were heavily barred,

for the building was a policestation before it became a bar.

Chapter Four - GraceBefore Meat

Bless, O Lord, before we dine,

Each dish of food, each cup ofwine,

And bless our hearts, that wemay be,

Aware of what we owe to Thee.

MAURICE HEALY

Cape Town was for centuriesthe gastronomic capital ofSouthern Africa and I recordwith sorrow the fact that it haslost that distinction. Nowadaysthe shrewd diner-out is servedbetter in Johannesburg andDurban and, of course,Lourenco Marques. You have toknow your way round the CapeTown restaurants to find theelusive old Cape cooking or atrace of English genius. CapeTown has become a city of

steak and chips and you do notescape from tough beef andindigestible potatoes by goingto foreign restaurants. Nearlyall the menus carry the samebadge of shame; the world'smost dreadful steaks and theleast appetising of all thehundred ways of cookingpotatoes.

I still miss the Del Monico,especially the pre-war DelMonico that supplied first-class

table-d'hote meals atreasonable prices. Once theoak-panelled York Room at theOpera House was the placewhere historic lunches anddinners were held; wheregenerals and politicians, youthand beauty were served amongthe potted palms by white-cladIndian waiters with blacksashes. At another period therailway station was the place togo for a grand Saturday nightdinner. Then the Del Monico

gained first place. It was WorldWar II that brought a flood ofbrave and riotous seafaringcustomers who ended the socialprestige of the restaurant. Someof the drinkers stayed too longat the second-longest bar in theworld. The smoothcommissionaires becamemuscular bouncers. No longerwas it possible to take one's girlfriend for a drink in the palmcourt.

Cape Town's oldest restaurant,I am glad to say, is still inbusiness. It is the Café Royal,probably the oldest grill-roomin South Africa. Back in theeighteen-eighties John Dunnwas the proprietor and therestaurant stood next to the oldGeneral Post Office in AdderleyStreet. It had a "Japaneseluncheon bar", described as themost elegant in the country; asmoking room and billiards. Anold menu in my collection

shows that John Dunn was ableto serve pea soup for sixpence,fried fish for sixpence, lambcutlets and green peas or curryand rice for a shilling. Roastbeef and Yorkshire pudding orboiled mutton and caper saucealso cost a shilling and youcould have extra vegetables fora tickey. Cheese was sixpenceand tea or coffee only a penny.

In my day the Café Royalcharged rather more than that

but it still gave very good value.The bar was, of course, a sort ofclub for journalists; there hard-pressed reporters might cash acheque, though some wereluckier than others. There thelong-suffering Bubbles laughedmerrily and Brownie thebarman listened tointerminable arguments aboutthe villainy of editors, newseditors, managers and otherdesirable and undesirablecharacters. There generations

of journalists played the matchgame and waited for telephonecalls that sent them hurryingoff on more or less interestingassignments. Sadly I think ofdeparted colleagues who stoodbeside me in the Café Royal barbefore going on to the grill-room for oysters and red meat.With nostalgia I rememberTommy Lawson and hiswonderful tricks. He took overthe Café Royal early in WorldWar I after ten years on the

road as a liquor traveller; andbefore long the restaurant wasknown as "Tommy Lawson's".Tommy was a bearded,persuasive man who couldforge your signature on a pennywith a pen-knife or perform thethree card trick with more skillthan a race course sharper.

Fred Junghans was waiter andhead waiter at the Café Royalfor nearly forty years. He was aclean-shaven, heavily-built man

with a light touch whendressing salads. Fred made thesalad called "Fred's Special" formany famous people. I neversucceeded in learning the wholesecret but I can tell you that hisgreen salad consisted of lettuce,tomato and green peppers witha dressing of lemon juice, oiland vinegar, celery, salt, pepperand sugar. Finely-choppedonion and a mashed clove ofgarlic went in when speciallyordered. Fred also had a

crawfish salad with the samecondiments plus sliced beet,cream and mayonnaise. Finallyhe prepared a cucumber saladfor those who could not usuallydigest cucumber. He cut thecucumber in slices, sprinkled itwith salt and hung it in a tablenapkin for one hour while themoisture dripped out. Then hedressed it with white vinegar,pepper, onion and sugar, toppedup with fresh cream.

Paul Surrock, another CaféRoyal waiter, looked exactlylike Mussolini. I believe he wasa Greek. He was a railwaysteward for years and hadwaited on the Royal Familyduring the 1947 South Africantour; a silver matchbox bearingthe royal insignia was hismemento of the visit. An evenmore famous Paul at the CaféRoyal was the great Guiseppede Paoli. Everyone called himPaul, a great restaurateur who

had come up from the lowestwork in the kitchen. Paul wasone of the few foreign maitres-d'hotel who took the trouble tomaster the Cape cuisine. Hehad worked as a train stewardand as chief steward at the oldCape Town station restaurant.He knew what Smuts andHertzog and Paul Sauer liked.Smuts was fastidious, anepicure in his own way. Grilledsnoek with brown butter sauce,new potatoes and rice formed

one of his favourite dishes, andhe drank beer or brown sherry.Once he remarked: "Paul, whenyou have lived and eaten as Ihave done, on the veld and inthe saddle, you reach a stage inlife when you look forward tocomfort and good things to eat."General Hertzog was a heartyeater. He and General LouisBotha and Tielman Roos allenjoyed the traditional Capedishes: bobotie, the famousbredies and gestoofde skaap

pootjies, fricassee of sheep's'trotters. Tielman Roos alsoliked iced spanspek with Vander Hum and geelbek withmayonnaise. Paul Sauerpreferred a tender friedperlemoen with lemon sauce.

Enough, for the moment, ofthese dishes for the influentialand the wealthy. The finestvalue I ever found in CapeTown was provided by the CaféDiane in Long Street, a little

place I have already mentioned.I lunched there every week-day,term after term, while I was atschool. Such lunches they gaveme that I was able to return toS.A.C.S. with the strength tosurvive another marvellouslyboring afternoon. I still pass theCafé Diane, but it has anothername and it now supplies thesteak and chips, fish and chipsof the masses. I only came toknow the Café Diane well afterI had left school. The patron

was an immense Frenchman,olive-skinned with a lock ofNapoleonic black hair showingbelow his white chef's hat.Jacques Hugo had been a ship'scook; but in French ships thecook is something more than amere sea cook. He had beenshipwrecked on an IndianOcean isle, rescued and takento Mauritius. There he hadworked for a time at the famousPort Louis restaurant La FloreMauricienne. He married an

island girl Diane and they hadleft the overcrowded island andmoved across to South Africa tomake a little more money.

Many people have madefortunes in Long Street and Ibelieve Jacques and Diane werefairly comfortable when theysold up and sailed for Franceduring the nineteen-twenties. Inever understood how they didit on the prices they charged.Those lunches I spoke of cost

one shilling and three pence aday. I often dined at the CaféDiane for half-a-crown andevery meal was memorable. Notluxurious but absolutely sound.Always there was a pot-au-feusimmering on the coal stove;the basic soup of France, astupendous blend of wonderfulflavours; beef and beef bones,carrot and parsnips, onions andgarlic. Jacques showed meround his kitchen when hediscovered that I was

interested. Amid rapturousaromas I gazed upon hisburnished copper pots and ironpans, the large clock that hadtimed a thousand savouryroasts, the long array of knives."The most important knife -this one," Jacques declared,picking up a long steel cook'sknife or couteau de cuisine, atapered knife with a broad heel,a knife for chopping and dicing,slicing meat and jointingpoultry. He demonstrated a

small stainless vegetable knife,flicking out blemishes expertly;he filleted a fish with a long,thin blade, and he explained theuses of a grooving knife,turning salad vegetables intodecorations fit to adorn a finedish. Crawfish were cheap inthose days and Jacques oftenput on a bisque or, at specialrequest, a rich crawfishNewburg fried in butter andfinished in sherry and cream.(But that cost more than one

and three.) Jacques also hadsome interesting recipes he hadlearnt in Mauritius, rice dishesand others that had their ownpersonalities. They have brediesin Mauritius but these aredifferent from the Cape bredies;Jacques served a pumpkinbredie and also a spinachbredie. Sometimes he made aMauritian bouillabaise, usingsnoek and other Cape fish,tomatoes, onions, chillies,parsley, thyme and crushed

ginger, powdered with turmeric.I believe he put all his skill intothese dishes to please Dianeand remind her of her islandhome. Jacques could dowonders with the egg plant,making rissoles whichembodied chopped onions andgarlic, rissoles cooked in oliveoil. However, the meals that Iremember most vividly at theCafé Diane were those welcomelunches when I ate as only aschoolboy can. French onion

soup, a cassoulet of haricotbeans, pork and mutton andother ingredients and a fruitjelly, one shilling and threepence.

Years passed before I thoughtof congratulating Jacques onhis artistry. Boys take superbmeals for granted. But when Igrew up and made it clear toJacques that I appreciated hismeals he sat down at my tableand revealed his secrets. Up to a

point, of course. Jacquesadmitted that chefs havesecrets and he said the secretsusually die with them. Hedeclared that the selection ofthe day's food was the mostimportant part of the task.When he prodded a fowl oreyed a fish he was like a doctorexamining a patient. Jacqueshad sensitive fingers and a nosethat helped enormously. All thetime he was buying fish andmeat and vegetables he was

composing the menus of theday. He also knew when fruithad been picked before it wasripe.

"When I read a recipe I cansmell the dish on the stove,"Jacques claimed and I acceptedit. He was like a musicianhearing a composition as heread the score. His kitchen wasa symphony. Sauces? Jacquessaid the great sauces of Francemade up the soul of the cuisine.

Without them it was impossibleto achieve the aim of everyconscientious chef, to enhancethe natural flavour of each fishor meat, not to smother it.Jacques spoke fondly of theclassical foundation sauces, themayonnaise, bechamel andespagnole. He sighed foringredients that were hard orimpossible to buy in Cape Townin those days; fresh truffles,fresh garlic. However, heassured me that he could

achieve wonders as long as hehad cream and egg yolks, herbsand tomato, butter and onionand above all wine. The mostdifficult sauce? Jacques saidBearnaise, the proper sauce forfillet of beef.

"Here I do everything myselfand Diane looks after the till -by far the best arrangement,"Jacques went on. "I pity thepeople who have to eatwretched food from unclean

kitchens. And it is hard to find agood restaurant - the outsideappearance tells you nothing.Often you can go by the aroma.Bad food smells bad. Beware ofhashes and leftover dishesmarked 'chef's special'. Makeinquiries before you order. Thisis a land of chicken, chops andsteak, steak, steak. It iswonderful to find a place wherethey give you somethingunusual, a superb ducklingperhaps or even a pure

sausage."

Yes, I still miss Jacques Hugo.In a different class, interestingin a totally different way, was aGreek who ran a fruit-shop andcafé in Kloof Street. He had anunpronounceable name likeChrysikopoulos but we calledhim Peter because nearly allGreeks are named Peter orNick. He was a wrinkled oldGreek who took in Greeknewspapers and decorated his

walls with lurid pictures ofGreek soldiers and Greekcruisers laying hell into theTurks. Peter's café was agathering place for otherGreeks. They talked excitedlyand settled the distant politicaldramas of Athens to their ownsatisfaction. Peter served steakand chips, ham and eggs toordinary customers but hemade Greek dishes for hisfellow-countrymen.

Greek food will never gainthree stars in the MichelinGuide, I imagine, for it is robustpeasant grub rather thangourmet fare. Nevertheless, it isbetter than Cape steak andchips. Peter used to bake bread,coarse bread and put it in frontof his fellow-countrymensteaming hot. They would tearoff hunks, dress it with pepperand salt and olive oil and eat itwith white cheese and blackolives as an appetiser. Then I

watched them going into thekitchen to see what wascooking; an old Greek custom. Isoon decided to abandon thesteak and chips and join theGreeks.

Peter had a charcoal stove. Heoften made the bean soupcalled fasolada and a pleasantlentil soup. His fish dishes weresplendid though few besides hisGreek friends would havechosen sea urchins, the sweet

sea urchins with purple shellsgathered at full moon.Crawfish, which the Greeks callastakos, was grilled in the shellover the charcoal fire. Peteralso concocted a fish stew,filling a cauldron with severalvarieties of fish, herbs andonions, tomatoes and olive oil.Once he dropped a wholeoctopus into the cauldron amidcries of approval from hisGreek patrons. Fried musselswere often on the menu, the

mydia tiganita which theGreeks enjoy more than theclassic French moules marinier.(Give me the moules.) I likedPeter's moussaka, egg-plantbaked in layers with mincemeatand covered with cheese sauce.His meat dishes were simpleand inexpensive except oncertain days of feasting; then hewould have beef turning on aspit, a roast Easter lamb or thetraditional sucking-pig. Thediners had to bring their own

ouzo, of course, the milkyappetiser that appeals to peoplewho liked aniseed balls aschildren. I did not. Nor could Iever accept with genuinepleasure the Greek wine calledretsina, a white wine flavouredwith pine resin. Peter told methe wine was matured in pinecasks. I say that the French(and others) know better thanto mix the grape with the pine.Peter used lemons in many ofhis dishes. He was not strong

on sweets, though his honeypuffs and flaky pastries withnuts and syrup were not to bedespised. There was alwaysTurkish coffee, very thick andsweet and served in a copperpot with a long handle.

Black olives preserved in brinecame to Cape Town in casks inthose days and Petertransferred the olives to smalljars. He declared that theseGreek olives were far superior

to the green Seville olives or thestuffed manzanillas. Peter alsoapproved of the Greekkalamata olives packed in oiland vinegar. Each kalomatawas slit down one side so that itimbibed the marinade. I heardthat Peter took his savings andretired to his home on Ithacabetween the wars. No doubt heoften thought wistfully of KloofStreet and I hope he never hadcause to regret his decision.

Germans have had no difficultythroughout this century infinding their own cuisine inCape Town; except, of course,during the two world wars,when there was not akartoffelsalat or pumpernickelto be seen anywhere. Besidesthe Deutscher Verein therehave been German hotels, bars,cake shops and cafes fordecades. One gemutlichrestaurant in Long Street,decorated with antique guns,

was owned not long after WorldWar II by Baron Von Rapacki-Warnia, former lord of the greatHeynewalde estate in Saxony.The baron ordered supplies,carved the joints and served atthe counter while the baronessworked as waitress. Thisunusual German restaurantdisplayed heirlooms bearing theRapacki-Warnia crest, atablecloth one hundred yearsold and some fine old silvercutlery. Then there was

Ludwig's place in Loop Street. Iforgot his surname but it was agood place to go between thewars for German and Austrianfood. Ludwig had a delicatessenas well as a café; a mostattractive shop with sausageshanging from poles, steel traysbright with fresh, contrastingsalads and tins of whiteasparagus of brands unknownelsewhere in Cape Town.Ludwig explained to me thatasparagus was really the

national vegetable of Germany;he declared that every springhis fellow countrymen wentmad over spargel, the tenderstalks of the king of vegetables.One of the great dishes onLudwig's menu was composedof asparagus, melted butter,grilled bacon, scrambled eggs,sausage, ham and boiledpotatoes.

Ludwig was noted for toogenerous portions but all

German restaurants have thatfailing. He made a formidablesteak tartar, one of the fewdelicacies I have never beenable to face: raw beef and onionon toast and a raw egg toppedwith German caviar. I askedhim what it was like and hereplied: "Vonderful goot!" Thiswas a standard description, Isoon discovered. If youinquired about the paprika vealwith rice or the beef goulash orkasseler ripchen it was always:

"Vonderful goot!" And indeed itwas good in the substantialGerman way, huge slices ofsauerbraten garnished withdumplings and potatoes andsoused cabbage. I have fondmemories of the herring saladwith its slices of boiledpotatoes, cold meats or mincedveal, gherkins, dried apples,beets, peppers, onions andpickles, all properly chilled,served with vinaigrette anddecorated with capers and

chopped hard-boiled eggs."Vonderful goot!" Ludwig hadno heirlooms but his collectionof beer steins was greatlyadmired.

Portuguese and Madeirans havehad their unassuming littlecafes and fish and chip shops inCape Town for the whole of thiscentury. Only in recent yearshave a few of them openedmore expensive restaurantswith fresh tunny and tartar

sauce or steaks in clay plates ala Portugaise. Madeirans are inthe majority in this communityand many of them come fromone fishing village, Paul doMar. Most of the island dishescan be prepared here andwicker-covered bottles ofMadeiran wine are available.Dinner often starts with eitherchicken broth or the coldgazpacho made from choppedonions, cucumber, red peppers,tomato, lettuce and garlic and

laced generously with olive oil.Maybe there will be importedbacalhau to follow, dried saltcod served in many ways. Thenroast chicken with cheese, andfruit afterwards. You will noticethe typical love of colour onyour plate; the vivid splashes oftomato and saffron, chick peas,ripe olives, crawfish in theirflaming red shells, pimientosand chillies. An interestingsnack which you may be offeredwith your wine or beer is called

tremocos, salted lupins. Trycaldo verde, a soup of mashedpotatoes and chopped greencabbage, and also their cozido, astew of beef, pork, sausages andvegetables. Portuguese andMadeirans are usually eithermarket gardeners or fishermen.Their food is close to the soiland the sea.

Dutch food should beconspicuous in the restaurantsof the seaport Van Riebeeck

founded but for some reason itis hard to find. I would knowlittle of the cuisine of Holland ifI had not visited that country,travelled in Dutch ships anddined luxuriously at theNetherlands Club. No doubtthere are hotels and cafés inCape Town managed by peoplefrom Holland but they do notseem to place their traditionaldishes on the menu. Cape Townsampled the best cuisine ofHolland during the Van

Riebeeck festival when theDutch restaurant offeredsmoked eels, herrings, wildduck and the finest cheeses.There the renowned thick peasoup was made, rich withsmoked sausages and pork.(They called it snert.) Knowingepicures also ordered hetebliksem, the "hot lightning"casserole of potatoes and celeryaccompanied by grilled porksausages and apple sauce.Other delicacies of that brief

period, delicacies that seem tohave disappeared were filosoof,a meat and potato casserole,and the better-known hutspotmet klapstuk or Dutch boileddinner, a beef stew with vealknuckle, oxtail, celery andmany vegetables. There wasalso a dish called hoppel-poppelwhich I failed, unfortunately, toinvestigate.

"Cannon litter the Peninsula,from ancient muzzle-loaders to

guns used in the WesternDesert in World War II"

Numbers of Italians settled inCape Town during the ninetiesof last century. They weresailors, tired of the hard life onboard sailing ships; and theysimply walked on shore, asPortuguese and Greek sailorshad done previously, to foundtheir own community. With

these Italians came a taste forfrutta di mare and pasta. Theysoon had their own fishingboats and caught the fruit ofthe sea. It was easy to makepasta. The Italians stayed onand are still with us, servingsteak and chips.

Obviously there is somethingabout the Italian touch in thekitchen that appeals to largenumbers of people all over theworld. Every other restaurant in

Cape Town seems to be atrattoria or somebody's grotta.Italians usually keep the pricesdown as far as possible andnobody goes away hungry. Ofcourse the gastro-nomiaItaliana deserves higher praisethan that; it is filling andfattening but it has its charms.You need a sharp knife for thesteak but ravioli needs norazor-edge. Italian restaurantsbear a family resemblance yetthe dishes are different

wherever you go. This variety isdue to the fact that Italy is notone country; the regionalspecialities are endless andeven an Italian gourmettravelling in his own land mustface many dishes he has nevereaten, names on menus that areforeign to him. Rice is thebackground of Northern Italy,not pasta. You find risottocropping up as often as themeat and rice in a SouthAfrican country hotel.

Cooking was an art in Italybefore the French becamesupreme in that field. Themodern Italian chef likes topresent a colourful platter; hehas the tomatoes and peppersand green peas and he usesthem with pleasant effect. Hisflavours are less subtle than theFrench but his restaurant mayhave more gaiety andatmosphere, even singingwaiters. (Can you imagine asinging waiter in Paris?) Italian

wines match the simplemacaronis and spaghettis. Noneed to hold up the meal whileyou discuss the marvellousbouquet; there is none. It is justwine, drinkable wine, to betaken in large quantities withappetising food. The olive oilused largely in cooking is saidto be better for you than theexpensive butter of the French.So is beyond reproach. Thatman will be eat and enjoyyourself - canneloni a public

benefactor, with meatyBolognese sauce and gratedcheese, veal cutlets, fruit andmore cheese. Viva!

Yes, you can have zampone inCape Town and peperonata andpizza. But many a visitor hassearched in vain forwateruintjies and bredies,springbokvleis en jellie,gebraaide tarentaal vleis orduifies. They have also haddifficulty in finding those great

dishes that are English to themarrow; the incomparableroast meats, proper Yorkshirepudding, the steak-and-kidney.Such plebeian Cockneyfavourites as jellied eels areabsent and even a simple toad-in-the-hole is a rarity. One day,I hope, someone will open anAfrikaans-English restaurantwith joints wheeled round ontrolleys and where theboerewors is beyond reproach.That man would be a public

benfactor.

Chapter Five - The HandOf Time

Junk shops were far morecommon than antiqueshowrooms in the Cape Townof my youth and genuineantiques were often to be foundamong the junk. Now theantique dealer is as common asthe cook serving steak andchips in the guise of hautecuisine. Moreover the fringeantiques of today include items

I once used. It came as a shockto me recently when I saw anold telephone in an antiquegallery, an ornate specimenwith hand-cranked magneto"said to have been used byPresident Kruger". People of myage dislike that sort of relic.They remember cranking them.

Give me the old Cape furniture,the burnished metal andpolished timber in which yourecapture the centuries that

have passed. Who made thesesturdy chests and massive wallcupboards? The names of manyCape silversmiths are known tous; Anton Anreith thewoodcarver is famous; but ahost of cabinet-makers andother craftsmen have gonebeyond recall, leavingmasterpieces that bring into ahouse the power of aRembrandt painting. Some ofthese craftsmen were ship'scarpenters who came on shore

with Van Riebeeck and madethe familiar, heavy Dutchfurniture in new surroundings.Then the Malays arrived,experts at inlay work and rattanand oriental curves; Malayslaves, blending the solid Dutchtastes of their masters with thedreams of the East Indies. Theybrought the idea of a dragon'sclaw holding a pearl, soon tobecome the Cape ball-and-clawfoot that some admire andothers do not. Came the

Huguenots with all the Frenchelegance. Daniel Marot has notbeen forgotten; architect to thePrince of Orange, interiordecorator at Hampton Court,the man who advised SirChristopher Wren; this sameMarot influenced the makers ofCape furniture. Perhaps thedesigns lost a little of theirseafaring and farmhousesimplicity at this period but theHuguenot embellishments andupholstery were beautiful. Last

on the scene were the Englishcraftsmen who landed early lastcentury, towards the end of thegolden age of Cape furniture.They carried not only their tool-boxes but also the ideas ofChippendale and the Adambrothers, Hepplewhite andSheraton. So new delicaciesarose in decoration; latticework, oval and heart shapes andthe famous Sheratonmarquetry.

All these men were true artistsin timber. The age of thespecialist was still to come.These craftsmen selected a logfrom the forests andtransformed it with primitivetools. They used hand-saws andone man would shape a wholepiece of furniture, fixing thebrass hinges and locks withpegs and metal rivets. Theyborrowed from the greatdesigners of Europe withoutlosing the spirit of the Cape.

Woodworking machines killedthem, though they were stillemployed in Cape Town duringthe thirties and forties of lastcentury; and much longer inthe country. The simplefurniture made in Graaff Reinetcan be identified easily.Swellendam had a band ofcraftsmen right up to the end oflast century. Malay carpentersin Swellendam had their ownhadji but they scattered at lastowing to unemployment.

William Moulton was the localcabinet-maker whose furnitureis most treasured; he drew onthe Langeberg forests and wasnoted for his inlay work. One ofhis chess-tables is preserved inthe Swellendam museum.There, too, you may see churchchairs and a stinkwood lecternmade in the early eighteen-hundreds.

Black stinkwood was probablythe finest of all the materials

used by the old craftsmen, thetimber with misty depthsregarded by many experts asthe greatest furniture wood inthe world. Sometimes the darkwalnut-coloured stinkwood ismottled with yellow or gold; thelight and shadow of the grainhold the story of a tree thatstood for a thousand years. It isnot easy to work but it has amysterious and appealinglustre. Here indeed is a wood fitto rank with Indian teak and

the oak of old England.Yellowwood is magnificent butit must be graded belowstinkwood. These timbers blendadmirably, stinkwood for theframing and yellowwoodpanels. Yellow-wood resemblesthe light satinwood whilestinkwood is hard todistinguish from SouthAmerican imbuia. Yellowwoodwas a shipwright's favourite;masts and yards and keels weremade of it. You also find

yellowwood tables andbedsteads, vats, casks and tubs.The fine red of rooiels, withblack markings to break themonotony of the grain, withwhite or yellow flecks in someplanks, also had a strongappeal. Then there was witels,rather like Outeniquayellowwood, the choice of thosewho made picture-frames andboxes. Wild chestnut was not soornamental but it was used forpanels. Camphor grown at the

Cape went into boxes andchests as the aroma wassupposed to keep out moths.The camphor trees planted byWillem Adrian van der Stel atVergelegen are still growingthere beside the oaks. Assegai-wood, hard as oak and likemahogany in appearance, madehandsome furniture; somebright red, often brown or grey.Carpenters noted its "elastic"quality and used it for chairs.

Among the imported timberswere ebony from Mauritius andthe lighter ebony with darkstripes (also known asCoromandel) from Ceylon.Wood-carvers at the Cape lovedebony. Doors and windowswere often made of Burma teakwhile panels of beefwood fromthe East Indies are seen inmany pieces of furniture; theyare indeed beef-coloured.Mahogany came from SouthAmerica in the middle of the

eighteenth century and this wasthe timber used at the Cape inthe linnekas. This linen presswas smaller and less decorativethan the armoire; it stood aboutfive feet high, with woodenknobs instead of Cape silver keyplates and handles. The finerlocal woods lent their beauty tobeautiful fittings; such raritiesas the early butterfly and straphinges. Holland was the homeof great brass-workers in theseventeenth and eighteenth

centuries and some of thesemen brought their designs tothe Cape. When they hadcreated a new and graciouspiece of furniture they polishedit with linseed oil and wax andbrought the beauty of the richsurface to perfection.

Widespread interest in Capeantiques is not so recent asmost people imagine. It maycome as a surprise even to wellinformed collectors to learn

that Lady de Villiers opened anexhibition of furniture, curios,Huguenot and family relicsorganised by the DutchReformed Church in a LongStreet hall thirteen years beforethe end of last century. Amongthe hundred dresses on showwas one worn by Mrs PaulRoux when she went to anofficial reception in theseventeen-seventies. Snuff-boxes, scent-bottles and knee-buckles were among the

exhibits. Members of the LeSueur family lent an iron-headed hammer, carried by anancestor as part of his disguisewhen he fled to Hollanddressed as a glazier after theEdict of Nantes. Another escapewas recalled by a copper platebearing the De Wit family crest;it was hidden in the boot of anancestor. Bibles included aDutch version bound in woodand nearly three centuries old;an English family Bible

published in 1519 and aGerman version fromNuremberg printed in 1736 andweighing twenty-four pounds. Asilver salver was displayed bythe Van Oudtshoorns and aHuguenot family lent a racingcup brought to the Cape fromFrance. Tapestry decorated thewalls. There was a view of CapeTown worked in grass.Evidently the newspapersrealised that this was anhistoric occasion and one

journalist commented: "Manyof these relics will pass intoother hands."

Probably the first reallyimportant antique show inCape Town was held as far backas 1908 in the City Hall. It filledfour large rooms. Some of thefurniture, worth a fortunetoday, must indeed have passedinto other hands; but manyitems can be traced with ease.Groot Schuur, for example,

supplied a seventeenth centuryrosewood kist and anothermade of chestnut and thoughtto be of Spanish origin. Theoldest kist, however, was aFlemish chest lent by MrWoodhead; this had sunkpanelling and portraitmedallions made of oak, and1590 was said to have been theyear of manufacture. Theoriginal Dutch kas was a sea-chest; and scores of them, if nothundreds, must have been

carried on shore when VanRiebeeck landed. They alsoserved as dower-chests inHolland, filled with linen forthe dowry of each daughter.The lines were severe for thechest might also be used as atravelling-trunk and nodecoration was needed. Whenthe kist was made at the Capethe design was even moresimple. Different timbers wereoften used: mahogany,camphor, satinwood and

sandalwood from the East,giving out fragrant perfumes.Poor people often had only thekist for their clothes. The chest-of-drawers, linen cupboard andarmoire came later. How do theexperts distinguish betweenthe Holland kas and the kistmade at the Cape? The timberis a useful guide for carpentersin Europe depended largely onoak. Delicate brass fittings alsosuggest a European origin. Ball-shaped feet are found on chests

of various origins. Theyellowwood wagon chest is atrue descendant of the Dutchchest but the wood reveals theCape craftsmen. Mostfascinating of all these chestsare the jewellery boxes andother miniatures built to standon tables or to be stored in afull-sized kist. Modernreproductions of the antiquekist are extremely popular.

Most impressive of all the fine

pieces of Cape furniture wasthe armoire or linen-cupboard.Major William Jardiue, famousAfricana collector, sent asplendid satinwood and stink-wood armoire from his farmnear Sir Lowry's Pass to theCity Hall exhibition. Thisarmoire had secret drawers, acarved cornice, silver mountsand claw feet. It was made inthe middle of the eighteenthcentury, during the mostgracious period of Cape

craftsmanship. Armoire is aword derived from the Armoirepeople of Brittany and theoriginal design was French. Thepediment was added at theCape and this seems to havebeen inspired by the farmhousegable. Very old armoires aresmall; but as larger houseswere built so the craftsmenmade massive cupboards tostand under high ceilings and toform a contrast with thewhitewashed walls. Cape

silversmiths contributedhandles and other beautifulfittings. The armoire is a mostdistinctive type of Capefurniture and this piece is oftencompared with the finestEuropean work of the sameperiod. Cape craftsmen hadgraduated from their earliercrude designs and were turningout their masterpieces. You donot often see a Cape armoire inEngland; they are so large thatfew owners would care to pay

the freight. However, a grandeighteenth century stinkwoodarmoire was sold at Sotheby'sin London some years ago.Made in Wellington, it hadbeen in the possession of theMalherbe family at the farm DeHoop for at least a century; andno one could say why it hadtravelled to London. Thearmoire had a mouldedpediment and three carvedcartouches. Antique collectorsabroad know nothing of the

Cape armoire and so it fetchedonly eighty pounds. Bidderswould have paid two or threetimes as much at a SouthAfrican sale. Armoires are toolarge for my flat and so I selectas my favourite the armoiretype of display cabinet withpanes instead of doors underthe gable. My mother left me asuperb specimen. It fits into acorner and adorns the roomwith the beauty of itsstinkwood. I can see my silver

and my wine-glasses against abackground of floweredwallpaper. No doubt it was oncefilled with valuable china.

Cape furniture craftsmenseldom designed flat-toppeddesks. "Bible desks" withslanting tops on stands are alsorare as they have not beenmade here for centuries. Theywere once known as "Bibleboxes" and under the lid theDutch family Bible was kept.

Often there were drawers. Thelegs may give an indication ofthe period as some are tapered,others cabriole. Cape desks ofthis type were not heavilydecorated. An inlaid ivory staris seen in some lids.

Cape four-poster beds must beplaced among the raritiesbecause so many of the postswere sawn off when the canopywas no longer needed. Do youknow the purpose of the four

poster? Some say it was a sortof ship's bunk that came onshore with Van Riebeeck; but Icannot accept that origin.Clearly this huge bedstead wasdesigned in the days beforeceilings. Dust, insects and evenlarger creatures fell from thethatch; hence the canopy. Theside-curtains gave privacy whenrooms were shared. Very earlyexamples seem to havedisappeared but there are a fewgrand four-posters two hundred

years old. Some are mahogany,others stinkwood, with riempieor cane thongs to support themattress. You find carvedboards at head and foot andfluted posts. Four-posters weremade so that they could betaken apart for transport.

Tables and chairs are fairly easyto find. The old Cape craftsmenmade a wide variety of sizes andstyles, using stinkwood ormahogany for most of them.

Collectors are pleased to findgate-legged tables as those arerare. Large yellowwoodrefectory tables were made inthe country; and if they haveturned stinkwood legs thenthey belong to the nineteenthcentury. They had a carved,cane-back Spanish chair withspiral legs at the 1908 show.Major Jardine, who lent it, saidthat it had been used byGovernor Tulbagh, and that itwas a late seventeenth century

design. Seventeenth centurychairs, made at the Cape fromlocal timbers, are not unknown;they may be studied at GrootSchuur and in a few museums.A furniture repairer at Paarlbought a seventeenth-centurydining room chair in 1929 for afew shillings. It was teak,fastened with wooden pins. Nodoubt it had been in the districtfor centuries and had comefrom a farm loft. Tub-chairswith low cane backs and fluted

legs are typical of the work ofCape craftsmen. The so-called"slave chairs", made on farms,have riempies, as cane was noteasily available in the country.Huguenot chairs reached theirmost artistic forms in the lateeighteenth century, with thecraftsmen using stinkwood andmaking tall and graceful chairswith cabriole legs. There werealso the old dining-room chairsknown as "Tulbagh chairs" withsquare legs. Later versions of

this chair reveal the Sheratoninfluence and these havetapered legs. Tulbagh was thehome of a group of countryartisans who influenced theCape antique furniturestrongly. You also find Capechairs of the "Raffles" type,named after Sir ThomasRaffles, an official of theEnglish East India Company.These rosewood chairs came tothe Cape from Java and localcarpenters followed the design.

"Burgomaster chairs" weremade at the Cape; round"compass" chairs with caneseats and six legs bandedtogether. Barbers were fond ofthis type.

Cape wall mirrors of full-lengthare not often seen inshowrooms and they have ascarcity value. The uprightmirrors with mahogany framesthat stood on dressing-tablesare less expensive. Simple

wash-stands and dressing-tables of yellowwood are not sorare, but the more decorativepieces used by the rich areuncommon.

Among the oddities at the 1908exhibition was a penny-in-the-slot box from an old Cape inn.It had a large slot to take thehuge "cartwheel" pennies oflong ago. When the pennydropped the lid flew open andthere was a small plug of

tobacco as the reward. Moreentertaining, I think, were theantique musical-boxes that areoften to be seen at these shows.(They had a jewel-encrustedmusical-box, said to have beena gift from Napoleon to MarieAntoinette, on view at a recentCape Show.) Watchmakerswere turning out the pioneermusical boxes towards the endof the eighteenth century. Theyplayed tunes on bells and wereknown as carillons a musigue.

Musical snuff-boxes, fans,smelling-bottles and umbrella-handles followed. Fine music,including operatic selections,could be played on the musical-boxes sold in the middle of lastcentury. The principle wassimple enough; clockworkrotated a brass barrel with steelpins that twanged the teeth of ametal comb. These ingeniousmachines gripped the publicimagination until the coming ofthe phonograph; then the

musical box was doomed. Onecharming example survived inan hotel bar in a village nearCape Town; there, in recentyears, the drinkers were stillpaying to hear a large disc-typemusical-box rendering oldtunes: "The bell goes ringing forSarah" and "The man whobroke the bank at Monte Carlo".In a different class were thoselife-size birds in cages, canariesand others, that moved theirwings, turned on their perches

and trilled with such realismthat people gazed on them withpuzzled eyes and weresometimes deceived.

I return again to 1908 at theCity Hall. There was a sedanchair of mahogany andsatinwood made at the Capelate in the eighteenth centuryand described as "comfortableenough but not built for largepeople". Sir Henry and Lady deVilliers, Mrs Fairbridge and

Miss Cloete lent a number ofsilver exhibits: coffee andsugar-pots, pepper-boxes, trays,a muffineer or castor forsprinkling sugar on muffins, atoddy ladle and gravy dish. Nodoubt there were items of oldCape silver in the collection.English ironstone plates usedby Napoleon on St. Helena wereshown with a green salt-glazepip kin (small earthenware pot)unearthed in Adderley Street. Aspinning-wheel of beech and

mahogany and a kappie madefor the first Dopper baby bornat the Cape were other items. Inthe art section were steelengravings of Cape governors,old Dutch samplers and earlywater-colours showing theParade with a fountain andcanal. Clocks were almostunknown in Cape Town untilthe middle of the eighteenthcentury. People used the sand-glass and waited for the belltime signals from the Castle.

However, the invention of thependulum clock by the Dutchcraftsman Huygens broughtclocks to the Cape; but it wasnot until the seventeenseventies that the DutchReformed Church clock showedthe time. Very old clocks weremade with only one hand, for inthose leisurely days it wasenough to know the hour.

Those who possess antiqueclocks made at the Cape are the

owners of great rarities.Professor G. E. Pearse, architectand authority on old Capefurniture, described aseventeenth century Cape clockowned by Dr H. B. Thom, rectorof Stellenbosch University. Itbears the name of the maker onthe brass face: Johann MichaelJunck, Cabo de Goede Hoop.Junck was a German whoreached the Cape in 1765 andworked for the Dutch EastIndia Company for three years

as a locksmith. He then madeand repaired clocks until hisdeath three years later. DrThom has the only knownexample of Junck's superbwork. The case is of stinkwood,yellowwood and ebony and thedecorations include Atlassupporting a globe with wingedfigures on each side. There isalso a seascape, a ship undersail, a woman and a shepherdplaying a flute. Mrs M. N.Morrison traced another early

Cape clock-maker, Johan deJonghe. A fine example of hiswork was a long-casegrandfather clock in stinkwoodwith silver decorations andescutcheons. It has on the dial aseascape, the name of thecraftsman and "Kaap de GoedeHoop-1775". This clock wastaken to Holland and was stillin working order after WorldWar II.

Very few grandfather clocks

were made at the Cape. MrsSuzanne van Rensburg, aPretoria antique furniturecollector, traced one with a dialof Cape silver that fetched overa thousand guineas at a Bolandsale some years ago. The onlyfamous maker of grandfatherclocks at the Cape arrived in1842, a Welsh widower namedWilliam Jones. After sevenyears in Cape Town he movedto Port Elizabeth and openedhis first jewellery shop there.

Three of his grandfather clockshave been identified, two inGraaff-Reinet and one inJansenville. Mrs van Rensburgmentions two other immigrantsfrom Britain named Rhodesand Raulstone who made a fewsimple long case clocks at theCape.

Some clocks have becomeAfricana by virtue of longresidence. Such a one is thegrandfather clock from

Amsterdam (dated between1700 and 1725) that ticks in theKoopmans de Wet Museum.The face of solid brass. It showsthe days, months and phases ofthe moon. Another fine oldclock shown at the City Hallexhibition more than sixtyyears ago was one owned byNapoleon and brought to CapeTown from St. Helena. That wasa London clock by Perrira,ebony with brass mountings. Ihave a description of another

valuable London clock, made bythe Rowley brothers about acentury ago, which came toSouth Africa after World War I.When the clock strikes the houran ornamental blind is raisedand four men are revealed,dressed in period costume andringing hand-bells in turn. Ablacksmith in Elizabethan dresstaps the minutes. The clockrecords the day of the week, thedate and name of the monthand adjusts itself at leap years. I

have also heard of a pre-Victorian clock set in themiddle of an English countrylandscape. As the hour strikes acoach appears with horses atthe gallop and then vanishesround a boulder. Other clocksare fitted with animated figuresthat make the cuckoo look silly.Monkeys in scarlet tunics playthe flute and organ and dancejigs and minuets. Mr JacquesArzul, a French musician whobecame a clock repairer, settled

in Stellenbosch not long agoand specialised in the repair ofantique clocks. Word of his skillwent round the town andcountryside, attics and trunkswere searched and soon thehorologist was overwhelmedwith work. He had neverguessed that so many fineantique clocks had survived inthis district. Among the clockshe restored to the originalcondition was a Dutchgrandfather that had been in

the Van Breda family sinceearly in the eighteenth century.This clock was valued recentlyat two thousand Rands. Someof Cape Town's mostremarkable clocks were lent fordisplay in the Western Provincepavilion at the EmpireExhibition in Johannesburg.Professor C. F. M. Saintsupplied a seventeenth centurylantern clock. Major Jardinelent a grandfather clock fromAmsterdam with a Cape-made

stinkwood case. Most of the oldgrandfather clocks at the Capehad oak, walnut or satinwoodcases. A collection of clocks inthe estate of Mr E. E. Attwood,sold at Claremont in 1939,included a lantern clock withopen face and large strike bell,and this was dated back to theseventeenth century. MrAttwood also owned waterclocks with metal buckets. AJonathan Bowker clock of 1649bore the inscription: "Showe ye

fleeting houres of day ... as oneby one they passeth away".There was also a Biblical clockdepicting Abraham sacrificinghis son, with a goat waiting totake the place of the child.

Cape glass is recent, Victorianaone might say rather thanRiebeeckiana. Yet manycollectors are glad to find Capeglass. Of course there was glassfrom Holland in the early days;old families possess cut-glass

decanters, wine and liqueurglasses that have remainedunbroken since the eighteenthcentury. I have heard of abokaal or goblet bearing thecoat-of-arms of GeneralJanssens. At the Castle thereare authentic glasses with theV.O.C. emblem of the DutchEast India Company. But theonly Cape-made glass earlierthan the present century wasblown at Observatory in theeighteen-eighties. A company

was formed and a mastercraftsman named Jones arrivedat the head of a band of skilledglass blowers. These menturned out pickle-jars andvases, wine, champagne andcustard glasses, tumblers,finger-bowls, water jugs anddecanters. Some of their moreexpensive efforts weredecorated with a fern-leafemblem by which their workmay now be identified.Unfortunately there was a

strong prejudice against localproducts at that period and theObservatory factory had toclose down. Another enterprisestarted at Glencairn, wherethere is an unlimited supply ofwhite sea sand. This sand stungthe faces of the glass blowers;they refused to live in thewindswept valley and soonreturned to England. Examplesof Glencairn glass must beextremely rare today.

Antique dealers will handleanything likely to show a profit.I have already mentioned the"Kruger telephone" and thiswas not the most remarkableexhibit I saw in that shop. Thedealer also had a barrel-organover a century old. He said thatin the ox-wagon days anenterprising smous took thisbarrel-organ along with himinto the far interior andbrought the farm people andothers round his wagon when

he turned the handle. After along and profitable trek he hadsold it to a native chief. I wouldlike very much to know howthat old street piano came backto Cape Town.

Only by sheer chance will youfind a piece of Sandveld antiquefurniture in a dealer's shop orsale room. Do you know theSandveld? It is the dry, remote,fascinating country between theCedarberg mountains and the

Cape west coast. Sandveldpeople cling to their heirlooms.Seldom do these four-posterbeds, cupboards and otherarticles equal the beauty of thestinkwood and yellowwoodfurniture made by craftsmen inCape Town, Graaff-Reinet andelsewhere; the Sandveld style issimple and almost crude butwith the charm of a strong andhonest job. You find Sandveldfurniture on the spot, in thethatched houses of

Clanwilliam, in the homesteadsto the north of the Berg River,in cottages that seem to bewaiting among the dunes for afuture Wenning or Pierneef torecognise their magic. Expertslike Dr A. M. Oberholzer andMr M. Baraitser identify theselittle-known pieces by thetimbers used, the Cedarbergtimbers. The light yellowCedarwood resemblesyellowwood but it has a sweetand unmistakable scent. The

waboom supplies dowels to pinthe Sandveld furniture. Chairsare made of lemoenhout fromthe orange groves of theOlifants River valley. Thinriempie seats are the rule in aland where goats are morecommon than cane. Localcraftsmen seem to have foundtables difficult though thereddish kareeboom wasselected for a few rarespecimens. Other furnituretimbers are wild olive, wild fig,

mulberry and syringa. FineCedarwood chests are to befound, some made early lastcentury. Perhaps the mosttypical Sandveld items are thewooden kitchen tubs, casks,waterbalies and butter churns.

Away in the land of theOuteniquas and aroundOudtshoorn the collector maystill find the typical stinkwoodand yellowwood furniture ofthe area. This is the home of

the jongmanskas, a clothes-chest of unusual design. On afarm an expert collectoridentified a copper-nailed kistthree hundred years old.Kitchen tables and oupaarmchairs still await buyers,but you must realise that mostowners know the full value ofsuch relics.

How do you form a collection ofantique furniture nowadayswithout the aid of a dealer?

Well, I am told that theWestern Cape is still the mostpromising area though youmust expect to find fewertreasures and pay far more thanthe agents sent out by CecilJohn Rhodes before lastcentury ended. Mrs Suzannevan Rensburg drove about thecountry glancing at stoepfurniture and stopping whenshe noticed an old riempiebench. Sometimes the owner ofthe bench had other interesting

pieces indoors. She also visitedauction rooms and second handdealers in the villages.Coachhouses, lofts and cellarson farms were obvious places tosearch. Coloured peoplesometimes parted with rickety,shabby antiques that Mrs VanRensburg restored to theirformer beauty. This is afascinating occupation,profitable for the shrewdcollector. When you buyantiques you have something

that will never wear out; andsomething more for those witha little imagination. You buythe power to look back downthe centuries and see in thewarm timber the people of thepast.

Collectors of antique firearmsand other weapons are, ofcourse, in a class bythemselves. Some arespecialists; others keep a sharplookout for anything from a

cannon to a pistol; and all ofthem prefer muzzle-loaders tobreech-loaders. In the CapePeninsula they have everychance of studying the wholerange of explosive weapons,from the carronades of the oldnavigators to the twelve-o'clockgun.

I first met one of these flintlockand gunpowder enthusiasts inthe newspaper office soon afterI had started work as a reporter.

His name was F. W. Hawkinsand like many of that ilk he hada military background. My ownknowledge of firearms at thattime was confined to theservice rifle and the machine-guns fitted to the primitiveaeroplanes of the period; and Iwas certainly no expert.Hawkins snorted at themention of Vickers and Lewisguns; he could show mesomething more interesting. Hehad just won a hobbies

competition and it was my taskto describe the collection hehad built up during a quarter ofa century. "There is in theinstrument of death a sort offascination, possibly morbid,which appeals to the guncollector," Hawkins started. "Iam always on the alert forspecimens. Some have come tome as presents, others by barteror purchase. Let us examineeach item."

Oldest of these treasures, Iremember, was a pistolweighing ten pounds. Accordingto Hawkins it had been theproperty of an early Dutchgovernor. The heavy pistol fellfrom its rack at the Castle oneevening and nearly killed thegovernor's wife. The governorhad the offending pistol builtinto a wall so that it would notfall again. There it was found byaccident towards the end of lastcentury when some masonry

crumbled away. Hawkins, whowas serving at the Castle,secured the prize. I wonderedhow the story had come downto him after so many years buthe refused to be cross-examined.

Hawkins had two light cannonmounted in brass and fired byhammer and percussion caps. Ithink they were salutingcannon from ships. An Afghanfirelock, seven feet long, was in

perfect order. Hawkins hadbought it at a sale of unwantedcourt relics; the gun had beenproduced as evidence at amurder trial. A little shotgunwith carved ebony stock hadbeen owned by Chief Moshesh,founder of the Basuto nation.Hawkins had a rifle with aweird mechanism, inlaid withgold and silver and said to havebeen made for an Indian prince.The design appeared to be across between breech and

muzzle loader and evenHawkins had difficulty inopening it. Hawkins alsoshowed me several examples ofthe work of the Bothas, thosefamous Cape Town gunsmithswho set up in business earlylast century in Boerenplein,later Riebeeck Square. Theywere advertising "plain andrifled gun-barrels, made inLondon" in the "Cape TownGazette" in 1816 and membersof the family were still in

business a century later. Thename of S. F. Botha has beenfound on guns in far placesfrom the Cape to Angola. (I sawone of his guns in Ovamboland,an old-fashioned shotgun withhis name carved deeply in thebutt.) Frederik Botha wascelebrated for his sterlooprifles, a favourite flint andpercussion muzzle-loader usedby the voortrekkers. This riflehad a silver star on the barreland the kick was so terrific that

a boy only became a man whenhe could fire it. I also saw in theHawkins collection finespecimens of the roer andsanna; no display of SouthAfrican firearms is completewithout these formidable guns."Die boer en sy roer" suggeststhe traditional picture of the oldwarrior and hunter who seldomwasted a shot. Of course therewere many types of both theseguns. The roer has been definedas an elephant gun but it was

not so very heavy. MajorGeoffrey Tylden, the authorityon South African firearms,described the roer of the lateeighteenth and the first half ofthe nineteenth century as aflintlock, often with a hair-trigger, a barrel as long as forty-eight inches and a stout stock.A fine roer complete withramrod, bullet-moulds, powderhorn and pouch is a show-piecein any collection. The nicknamesanna was usually applied to

the long smoothbore flintlockwhich had its heyday in the lastquarter of the eighteenthcentury.

Lord Charles Somerset sent toEngland for double-barrelledcarbines of Westley Richardsmake and these were sold inCape Town at four poundsapiece. Rawbone the gunsmithunpacked Colt repeating riflessoon after the middle of lastcentury, Grainger & Son of

Grahamstown were makinggood rifles in the eighteen-seventies. Natives clung toTower muskets and othergaspipe trade guns; but theBrown Bess was doomed, thebloublaser, the snaphaar andother old firearms becameobsolete. A pity they were notsent to museums or destroyed.Traders sold them by thehundred to natives and some ofthese guns were so flimsy thatthey exploded and killed the

users. Gordon Cumming, thered-bearded Scottish hunter,bought muskets at sixteenpounds a case (twenty in acase) and exchanged each gunwith the natives for ivory worththirty pounds.

Collectors of muzzle-loadersand other old weapons nowhave the same problems asantique furniture collectors.Owners do not part gladly withtheir heirlooms. Once a gun

that was "definitely used atBlood River" would changehands for a few shillings; nowthe prices are high. Onecollector takes a superbrestored muzzle-loader withhim as bait and this arouses somuch interest in thecountryside that owners areproud to deal with a man whotreats guns with such respect.Struik the Africana dealerdiscovered a catalogue showingprices of gun collectors' items

early this century. Powderflasks, now almostunobtainable, were twenty-sixshillings a dozen. Shotguns,bullet moulds and powdermeasures with ebony handleswere absurdly cheap. Muzzle-loaders and bayonets wereoffered as pokers at a shillingapiece. Auction prices at a CapeTown sale a few years agoformed a strong contrast. Acopper powder flask decoratedwith a shooting scene fetched

seven guineas while a Towermusket went for eight guineas.Dress and cavalry swords ranup to ten guineas. A flintlockblunderbuss with a brass barrelwas sold for over fifty guineas.Collectors of "edge weapons"like to find anything from aViking sword to a stiletto. At anexhibition in Cape Town a fewyears ago members of theSouth African Arms andArmour Society showed rapiersand sabres, a kukri from Nepal,

breastplates and helmets. AFrench flintlock smoothboremade in the eighteenth centuryhad been found in theBlaauwberg dunes and waspossibly used during the battle.

Cannon were landed at theCape long before VanRiebeeck's settlement. Smallcannon found by Hottentotsand Bushmen in wrecked shipswere carried away inland.English mariners left two

cannon on Dassen Island andthese were transported toRobben Island by order of VanRiebeeck "so that thePortuguese, French and Englishmay not remove the Company'ssheep and play pranks there".Van Riebeeck mounted fivecannon on the ramparts of hismud fort. He gazed wistfully atthe eland and hartbees andlamented the fact that theywere beyond cannon range. Hehad thousands of pounds

weight of gunpowder while hismen were longing for meat.

Cannon from ships found theirway up country. A seventeenth-century ship's cannon known as"Ou Grietje" (after the wife ofan English settler namedFindlay) was once the onlypiece of artillery owned by theOrange Free State. It was usedin the Basuto wars of theeighteen-fifties and sixties. FreeState burghers aimed the

historic gun at their Transvaalopponents during the Renosterriver trouble but after twomisfires the Free Statersdecided that it was a sign thatbrother should not fightbrother. "Ou Grietje" nowstands in the grounds of theSmithfield courthouse. The gunalso appears in the place ofhonour on the Smithfield coat-of-arms. The origin of this oldgun will never be known butthe story may have been as

romantic as the later episodesin which it played a part.

Two small bronze salutingcannon of the middleseventeenth century are ownedby the Stellenboschmunicipality. They are ofPortuguese make with Capegun-carriages. No one knowshow they reached Stellenboschbut there are theories. I heardlong ago that the guns werefound in a Bushman cave, high

in the mountains of theStellenbosch district.Leibbrandt the archivist,however, stated that the gunswere handed over to GeneralBeresford after the Battle ofBlaauwberg. These guns,described by Leibbrandt as"Lilliputian artillery", firedsalvoes on the Braak whendistinguished visitors arrived inStellenbosch. They have beendisplayed on many importantoccasions and in 1936 they were

sent to Johannesburg for theEmpire Exhibition.

Mr William Fehr, owner of somany Africana treasures, had ahandsome brass and coppersaluting cannon from aSaldanha Bay wreck. In theCastle collection there is acannon with the VOCmonogram dated 1748, dredgedup by a trawler from threehundred fathoms to thesouthwest of Cape Point.

Mr Henry Adams, a Cape Towntreasure hunter who employeddivers from the middle of lastcentury onwards, recovered twobrass guns from a wreck nearthe present Llandudno in theCape Peninsula. He sent themto London because of theirvalue as antiques and sold themfor one thousand pounds.Adams also employed divers onthe wreck of Het Huis teCruyenstein at Oudekraal. Theybrought up a Dutch brass

cannon dated 1694, weighingfive thousand pounds andstamped with the maker'sname, Jasper van Erpecom.

Sea and land still give up theseindestructible relics. Housesmore than two hundred yearsold were pulled down near theold Treaty House at Woodstockearly this century and the siteof a fort was revealed. An oldcannon mounting was all thatremained of the fort. Drainage

gangs and demolition partieshave dug up guns in many partsof Cape Town. Some have beenset up as gateposts or bollardsat the docks and others arelying in the South AfricanMuseum grounds. The heavybarrel of a small cannon wasunearthed on the eastern sideof the Castle a few years ago.Mr W. J. Bongers sent details toHolland and had the gunidentified as a carronade usedon board ship at the end of the

seventeenth century. He had itmounted on a wheeled carriageof authentic design. This willnot be the last old Cape cannonto see daylight after long yearsunderground.

"The Cape Peninsula is a richfield for study compared withthe rest of South Africa,"declared Colonel L. G. F. Wolf,M.C., a leading collector, notlong ago. "Most of the piecesare in the possession of

collectors who will not partwith them. Cannon litter thePeninsula, from ancientmuzzle-loaders to guns used inthe Western Desert in WorldWar II" As you might expect,there are cannon atSimonstown, cannon withstories. You find small longboatguns captured from Portugueseslavers. Below the lawn atAdmiralty House there are twolarge Portuguese cannonbearing the royal arms and

dated 1614 and 1623. It isbelieved that these were amongthe guns brought toSimonstown by British men-o'-war after capturing pirate ships.Dutch soldiers left cannon inthe forts called Boetselaar andZoutman, built at the end of theeighteenth century. The shot-heating furnace has beenpreserved. An old gun namedBlaauwberg, a muzzle-loaderwith a diameter of three feet, isstill mounted in the disused

Middle North Battery.

Muzzle-loading cannon for thedefence of Cape Town werereplaced by Armstrong gunsover a century ago. Fort Knokkewas the first battery to beequipped with the new gunsand the governor attended asuccessful demonstration whenshells were fired. Old ways ofwarfare gave way to the new.Several years later a Mr Orgilldesigned an armoured ox-

wagon with a rifle proof galleryat the top for a gun. Thisfortress on wheels wouldindeed delight any gun collectorif only it had not vanishedwithout trace. Perhaps thegallery was not rifle-proof afterall.

Chapter Six - Street Of AThousand Stories

Cape Town has always had itsshare of romantic and unusualshops. I came under the spell ofshop-windows at an early ageand the magic of a strangedisplay still has a stronginfluence over me. As aschoolboy I was an incorrigiblewindow-shopper, especially inLong Street, the magic mile ofLong Street. Here indeed was a

street of a thousand stories.

One of the most remarkableshops I studied there more thanhalf a century ago was devotedentirely to objects made fromparaffin tins. Those were thedays before petrol pumps andelectric stoves. You boughtpetrol and paraffin in tins, agallon or four gallons at a time,and the whole of South Africaseemed to be devoted to findinguses for the empty tins. Shacks

and dog kennels were built ofparaffin tins. More prosperousfolk painted the tins green andused them for plants on thestoep; and such tins often hadartistic scrollwork. Ferns hungfrom the roof in similar tins.

However, you needed a prettygood tin-opener or shears toproduce such ambitious efforts.The shopkeeper whospecialised in paraffin tinsoffered handsome umbrella

stands and decorative lanterns.The engine-driver and firemantaking food to the footplatecould purchase useful black-painted paraffin-tin skoff-boxes. You could select acomfortable tin for fowls to layeggs in and another for use as adrinking-trough. Tin strips wereon sale for hanging in fruit-trees; they jingled pleasantlyand kept the birds away.Paraffin tins served as buckets.In tapless areas the man with a

pole over his shoulder, aparaffin tin full of water at eachend, was a common site.Hawkers transported fruit intins. That shop in Long Streetsuggested that the daily life ofCape Town would collapsewithout the essential paraffintin.

I also remember a shop filledwith the products of a broompioneer named Ingle. He musthave made a small fortune by

supplying this simple article ofa type which had previouslybeen imported. Ingle had tosend to the United States forseed and persuade local farmersto plant it and grow the grass.The timber industry at Knysnasupplied the right sticks forhandles. Early this centuryIngle was selling thousands ofbrooms a month.

A penny went a long way inLong Street before World War I

and that was just as well. Ibought a long strip of liquoricefor a penny, a bar of chocolateor a couple of sugar sticks withtigerish stripes. There werepenny whistles for boys andpenny dolls for girls. Factoriesin Germany turned out toysoldiers at a penny each and Ionly wish they had stuck to thatharmless occupation. PennyBazaars sold a packet of writingpaper with envelopes or evenchildren's books for the mighty

penny. A great favourite, atypical Cape Town delicacy inthose days and long afterwards,was the penny polony. Thishumble yet satisfying item wasknown among the colouredpeople as a "redskin". Red itwas on the outside, the vividcolour hiding mysteriousingredients. It was good value,better value than the pennytransfers that came off on one'shand and the penny Japanese"flowers" that blossomed in a

glass of water.

Naturally I was drawn againand again to the amusementarcade in Long Street filled withpenny-in-the-slot machines.This form of entertainment hasnever died out and I oftenwonder whether suchEdwardian peepshow smash-hits as "What the Butler Saw"are still on view. Do you knowwhat the butler really saw?Well, the penny dropped and

the lady of the manor enteredthe hall, gave her coat to thebutler and disappeared into herbedroom. Now the butler bentto the keyhole. Garments wereseen dropping on to a chair,there was a brief glimpse of mylady's bare shoulder and thenthe lights went out. After thatdisconcerting finale I refused toinvest another penny in "TheChambermaid's Secret". Themachine selling butterscotchgave more satisfaction. Pinball

machines and juke boxes hadnot yet been invented. Therewas an automatic "love test"which told you whether youwere fickle, affectionate, cold,passionate, romantic, kissableor glamorous. But I do notthink anyone dreamt that atime would come when a coinin the slot would provide cleanlaundry, silk stockings, books, ashoe shine, personal accidentinsurance or a hot meal. CapeTown had shops in Van

Riebeeck's time but they werenot shops in the modern sense.People did their business in thehomes of the tradesmen.Henning Huysing the firstbutcher and Thomas Mulderthe first baker sold their waresin their own living-rooms andkitchens. Early last centurythere were forty-two smallretail shops in Cape Town butno shop-windows. Rose vanBougies made candles in SpinStreet; there were bonnet and

basket makers and a man whorepaired watches. But a writerof doggerel named FrederickBrookes complained in theeighteen-twenties: "Cape Townwants a good poulterer's shop, aregular fruiterer'sestablishment, a good beefsteakand chop house at one o'clockeach day, shelter for the sale ofvegetables and regular stallsand arrangements."Nevertheless the stores in theHeeren-gracht and elsewhere

sold hard and soft goods, wineand tobacco. Advertisements inthe newspapers reveal a fairrange of articles. Retailshopkeepers had wrought-ironlanterns over their doors toshow they were in business. Bythe middle of last century theBritish nation of shopkeepershad sent enough immigrants tobring Cape Town up-to-date inshop-keeping. A newspaperrecorded: "Cape Town with itsomnibuses, cabs and elegant

shops is gradually partakingmore of the character of anEnglish city." A transition ofthis sort is hard to trace,however, and there were otherswho saw Kaapstad as a townDutch in atmosphere after halfa century of British occupation.

When I came on the scenemany shopkeepers followedEnglish fashions in the customsof their trades. Long Streetbutchers wore the straw hats

and blue and white overalls ofClapham and Kew; theircounters of unpolished timberwere scrubbed white; theysprinkled their floors withsawdust. Pigs often held applesin their mouths. Turkeys woreneck feathers like boas andtheir plump white thighsreminded some customers of arow of Tiller girls. Fat sheepkept the wool on their tails.Brine tubs were filled withbriskets and silversides of beef

and bellies of pork. Bacon wascured in the shop. Bladderswere filled with lard andsausages were made by hand.The rubicund butchercommanded a small army ofbusy slaughter men and shopmen, apprentices and errandboys. It was a meaty world forthere was no refrigeration inthe shop and everythingseemed to be on view; huge redsides of beef, festoons ofsausages, mountains of mutton.

In their stalls behind the shopchamped the butcher's horses.

Horse brasses, those splendidornaments still to be seen onthe harness of fish carts andfruit carts, were not collector'spieces in those days. I saw in asaddler's window harnessmounted with artistic brass andsilver. The hawker could buy aset of fancy harness for his cartfor about seven pounds;everything from martingale to

saddle rings, from nose band toterret. Most of thecommemorative brasses, thoseissued for Queen Victoria'sJubilee and others, have goneinto collections. The modernCape Town hawker adorns hishorse with regimental badgesand knobs from brassbedsteads.

Milk carts rattled noisily downLong Street with their largemetal churns. Milk was tapped

into pewter cans, more or lesshygienically. Dairies were richlytiled and some had cows on thepremises. More exciting werethe bakeries, with the magicand magnificent aromas thatstop you dead in your trackswhile you breathe in deeply.Van Riebeeck allowed the firstlocal baker to go into business"to make and sell for theconvenience of the public allkinds of pastry, roasted andboiled foods of all sorts, small

cakes, cracknels and otherpastry". Nevertheless mostCape Town people were bakingtheir own bread early lastcentury. In the eighteen-twenties came Richard Attwell,who made bread and biscuitson a large scale. Bakeries showmore individuality, perhaps,than other shops for eachnation has its own taste inbread and Cape Town hasdrawn bakers of many races.Today you can find the long

golden flutes of French breadfor people who like crust aboveall; and the flaky horn-shapedcroissants and brioches withball shaped tops. Old-fashionedcottage loaves are there in thewindow beside pretzelsflavoured with caraway andpoppy seed. You can buy plaitedloaves, rye bread, potato breadthat is said to keep fresh andtaste better than other varieties,Kaiser rolls and sour blackbread. Always there is the warm

nostalgic aroma that neverloses its charm for mankind.

One also inhaled gratefully inhot weather the smell of waterwhen the water cart passed.This four-wheeled tank, hauledby a horse, had a contraption inthe rear that spurted thewelcome stream and settled thedust. Another ancient odourcame out of the tiny dens of thecobblers. They sat there onstools wearing scarred leather

aprons, hammering andstitching and sending the roughleather smell beyond theirdoorways.

South Africa has always been amedicine loving country.Witchdoctors and chemistshave supplied the demand fromthe earliest days. Forsentimental reasons a few CapeTown chemists have clung tothose enormous glass jars thatwere once the emblems of their

trade; jars holding liquids ofpure red and blue, green andyellow. But the atmosphere ofmedieval sorcery has departed.Some of them still havedrawers labelled Sang. Drac(dragon's blood) and R. Serpent(serpentaria root) but theywould prefer to sell youantibiotics or sulphonamides.

Cape Town's first apothecarieshad their shop in the Castle.Jan Casper Rigter, an early

chemist, ran away into the veld"in a fit of madness" butreturned after three days.Probably they gave him a doseof his own nasty medicine tobring him to his senses. Whenthe "Cape Town Gazette"appeared very early last centurypeople became aware of theremedies available. FlorisVolsteedt ran a chemist's shopin his home in Strand Streetand offered the public Peruvianbark (quinine) and brimstone,

alum, borax, sal-ammoniac andisinglass. He bought up thecargo of a Swedish brig,including syringes, an anti-scorbutic decoction, elixir andopiates. There was a latershipment of senna leaves andcardamoms, castor oil andcamphor. Mr J. H. Tredgold setup in business as a chemist at63 Long Street in 1818 andadvertised "English drugs". Hekept Dalby's carminative, anti-bilious pills, Seidlitz-soda and

milk of roses. About twodecades later the famous Dr C.G. Juritz opened the AngelDispensary in Loop Street.Favourite medicines at themiddle of last century wereBarbadoes aloes, tartaric acid,ipecacuanha, valerian, parigoriclozenges and essence of ginger,not forgetting the powerfuljalap. Mr F. P. Hutchinson notonly supplied "fresh drugs"from his Waterkant Streetpharmacy; he also extracted

teeth.

Almost every chemist in CapeTown and elsewhere sold hisown specific remedy for variouscomplaints. Heynes Mathewopened the British Dispensaryin the eighteen-thirties andclosed down the retail businesswhen the building in AdderleyStreet was demolished nearlyone hundred and thirty yearslater. Petersen started in theeighteen-forties and at one time

the firm turned out eighthundred varieties of pills,essences for mineral waterfactories and curry powder. Theplant world of Africa suppliedmany useful ingredients; onefirm claimed that its medicineswere seventy per cent African.Oudtshoorn farmers grewliquorice root for chemists. MrJesse Shaw was awardedmedals and diplomas at greatinternational exhibitions for hisSouth African tinctures,

alkaloids and powders. He hada "sure cure" for the bites of allvenomous reptiles, a herbaltincture for neuralgia, eyelotion, embrocation and "thepowder" for chronic dysentery.Mr Jones, a Long Streetchemist declared that his"Rheumaticuro" was curingsufferers as far away as Londonand Lisbon.

One of the most successfulCape Town wholesale medical

enterprises early this centurywas established by Mr W. E.Woods, an English chemistwith thirty years' experience.He concocted "Woods GreatPeppermint Cure" for coughsand colds. Mr Woods reliedmainly on verses for hisadvertising and he employedwriters in English, Dutch,German and Portuguese. Laterhe announced that a Kaffir poethad joined the staff. Directionson each bottle were printed in

many languages, includingXhosa, Sesuto, Sechuana,Malay, Tamil, Hindi andChinese. The cure was sold allover Southern Africa from theCape to the Zambezi; tons ofcough mixture went out byship, train and ox-wagon.Mercifully I will quote only oneexample of the sort of versethat made a fortune for MrWoods:

There's the sneezy cold, the

wheezy cold,

The tickler in the glottis;

The chilly cold, the killing cold,

The cold that burning hot is;

The tearful cold, the fearfulcold,

The one that all the lot is,

Yet these be colds that noneendure

Who purchase Woods' GreatPeppermint Cure.

I liked the Victorian flavour ofthe old chemists' shops. Someof the chemists, like theimpeccable Mr Cleghorn ofCleghorn and Darroll, woremorning coat, striped trousersand spats. They pounded theiringredients with pestle andmortar and rolled their ownpills.

"I liked the Victorian flavour ofthe old chemists' shops. They

pounded their ingredients withmortar and pestle, and rolled

their own pills"

No carrier-bags in those days.The chemist used a bunsenburner and red sealing-wax forhis neat white packages. Theenormous BritishPharmacoepia was at his elbow,bound in leather. His materiamedica came from hundreds of

drawers and glass jars labelled"Turkey rhubarb" or "aquachlorof". You needed a classicaleducation to pull the right knobof green glass, the right bottlestopper, to make a blend thatwould send your client happilyaway.

Years ago I knew an itinerantdentist named Morton who hadhis base in Long Street. Hisroom was equipped with atreadle apparatus for drilling

teeth. Outside in the yard stooda motor caravan holding everydetail of apparatus needed forpulling and filling teeth andmaking dentures, far out in theplatteland. Morton was a mostresourceful old man, son of adentist, steeped in dentaltradition. He had received histraining long before universitycourses were available, at atime when dentists engagedapprentices and taught themthe craft. Of course there were

also many quacks, chemists andothers, who pulled teeth moreor less successfully, more orless painfully.

Morton had endured thisprimitive treatment in hisyouth. He said the chemist gavehim an armchair and told himto hold a basin under his chin.The chemist then seized thetooth with his forceps andhauled the tooth out. Mortonrinsed his mouth with cold

water, paid one shilling anddeparted thankfully. Thisexperience gave him the idea oflearning more scientificmethods and so he became adentist. Over the years he hadcollected information ondentistry at the Cape and heshowed me an album ofcuriosities. Back in 1817 the"Cape Town Gazette" printed anadvertisement in which Mr C.F. T. Schwartz stated he hadbeen given permission by the

governor to practise cupping,bloodletting, corn-cutting andextracting teeth. About twentyyears later Dr Carter wasoffering complete sets of teethmade of gold and platinumplates for thirty-five pounds. Atthis period a dentifrice called"Odonto" was placed on themarket, "composed of the mostrare ingredients, a never-failingremedy for every disease towhich the teeth and gums areliable". A news cutting in the

collection, dated about acentury ago, stated that DrTaylor of Grahamstown wasbitten by a patient whose toothhe was drawing. The doctorbecame seriously ill and died.Morton also had notes ondentists who accepted hens andturkeys in return for theirservices. There was a dentistwho added to his income bybuilding wagons. A paragraphin a Cape paper described theordeal of a minister whose false

teeth irked him so much thathe had to take them out whilepreaching a sermon. Mortonhas pasted into his album adescription of the porcelainteeth with which some peoplein Cape Town were fitted in themiddle of last century. Theseteeth were known as Franseboontjies and they broke easily.

"Dentistry has only become arespectable occupation inrecent years," Morton informed

me. "You still see far too manyjokes about dentists and falseteeth. Yet dentistry is a trade,an art and a science. I do myown laboratory work - I foundlong ago that I had the knackand I do not care to leave thisdelicate business to a mechanic.No two mouths are alike. I loveto turn out a good set ofchoppers." Morton had made Ipoint of examining Bushmanskulls during his travels and hehad formed the opinion that

primitive man needed soundteeth to masticate raw meat.Bushmen used herbs fortoothache and filled cavitieswith horn shavings andpowdered flint. Often they wereable to extract a bad tooth byusing their strong fingers andthumbs as forceps.

"Our ancestors in more civilisedcircles transplanted teethcenturies ago," Mortoninformed me. "They would haul

out a decayed tooth. Then thedonor would give up a soundtooth which was tapped into thepatient's jaw with a woodenmallet. There is evidence thatthe tooth and jawbone oftenknitted perfectly." Years agodentists and others collectedteeth for dentures onbattlefields and in graveyards.Some carved dental plates outof solid blocks of ivory. Poorgirls sold their teeth to wealthywomen. Morton said the

introduction of nitrous oxidewas a great advance. Localanaesthesia had come duringhis own career in dentistry. "Iconsider that proper dentureshave transformed everyday lifeto a greater extent thanmotorcars and aeroplanes,"Morton declared. "Life is amisery without teeth."

Window-shoppers stop deadwhen they come to theunpredictable miscellany in a

pawnbroker's shop. Taperecorders and electric shaversare heaped on musicalinstruments and golf clubs. Ifyou want a camera or a portabletypewriter you will certainlyfind a selection among theunredeemed pledges. Do youcollect old silver tablespoons orwar medals? The pawnbrokerhas them. Before theeighteenth century ended thevictorious General Craig waswarning Cape Town

pawnbrokers againstpurchasing or receiving armsand ammunition. Pawnbrokershave been in business in CapeTown for at least two centuriesbut they are not flourishing asthey did between the worldwars. Long Street has lost someof the famous "uncles" whodisplayed their gleaminginsignia years ago; the threebrass balls that formed thearmorial bearings of theillustrious Lombard family.

Nowadays the retirement ordeath of a pawnbroker oftenmeans the closing of the shop.

Something of the Dickensianatmosphere survives in the old-fashioned pawnbroker's shop,though washing machines andcar radios give the moderntouch. "Uncle" prefers gold anddiamonds to false teeth andmachines. In the trade they stilltell the story of a South AfricanIndian woman's black silk dress

that was put up for auction at asale of unredeemed pledges.The dress was decorated withbreast plates made of twohundred and fifty Victorian halfsovereigns, and there wereanother sixteen hundred halfsovereigns sewn on to the restof the dress. The sale took placea few years after World War Iand bidders paid seventeenshillings and sixpence for eachhalf sovereign.

I asked a Long Streetpawnbroker whether peopletold him why they neededmoney. "Nearly always," hereplied. "As a rule they have topay their rent. Many confessthey have lost money at theraces. It may be a court finethat has to be paid - or someoneneeds bail money. Hospital orfuneral expenses also creategenuine emergencies. But nowand again people regard apawnbroker's shop as they

would a railway cloakroom.They are going away on holidayand have nowhere to storesomething bulky, so they pawnit. Often it works out cheaperthat way." Motor-cars andpianos have been pawned andone man succeeded in getting aticket for a stage-coach and fourhorses. "Uncle Berks" of LongStreet refused, however, toaccept a pregnant white rabbitand a bottle of tomato sauce.He had a customer who needed

a diver's suit but unfortunatelythere was not one in stock.

Yes, the closing of an old shopspells the end of a thousandstories. It was a sad day for mewhen my old friend EdwinPayne shut up his Long Streetphotographic studio andtransferred his business toBulawayo. I had travelled intothe country often with TedPayne on newspaper missions.He had shown me pictures of

an older Cape Town, the sort ofpictures that would have anhistoric value today. I oftenwonder what happened to hisbox camera and the hundredsof large glass plates. Perhapsthe most valuable relics of allwould have been the reels ofcinema film that were screenedat Wolfram's and other earlyCape Town bioscopes. TedPayne was the first regularnewsreel cameraman in SouthAfrica. His weekly "Payne's

Mirror" first appeared in 1912, ayear before the first "AfricanMirror".

Chapter Seven - BooksAre A World

Dreams, books, are each aworld:and books we know,

Are a substantial world, bothpure and good:

Round these, with tendrilsstrong as flesh and blood,

Our pastime and our happinesswill grow.

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Africana, say the experts, hasshown the greatest capitalappreciation in the SouthAfrican investment field. Istarted collecting Africana as ayoung reporter and bought asmuch as my salary would allow,little knowing that some ofthose books would fetch tentimes the amounts I paid. Someof my own books, published inLondon and New York between

the wars, are now sold at sevenor eight times the originalprices.

What is Africana? There aremany definitions and thewidest cover not only booksabout Southern Africa butpamphlets, manuscripts andpictures. Some items ofAfricana are priceless. In theSouth African Public Librarythere is a sermon, printed inAmsterdam and delivered by

the Rev. Wilhelm van Gendt ofStellenbosch in February 1743.Only one copy of this work isknown. The same librarypossesses a sermon preached in1752 before Governor Tulbaghby Petrus van der Spuy, aminister of religion who wasthe first South African tobecome a doctor of medicine.This sermon, printed inUtrecht, has an historical valuefor Van der Spuy related thestory of the Cape during the

first century of Dutch rule. Andthis, too, is unique. Copies havebeen supplied to other librarieswith noteworthy Africanacollections: the Mendelssohnlibrary in Parliament, theBritish Museum and the Haguearchives. I have consultedAfricana items in the BritishMuseum which are to be foundnowhere else in the world.Lisbon has many treasures,some probably undiscovered.And in the Vatican library they

showed me Africana books thatwould make collectors envious.

Books were so rare in earlyCape Town that the fewbibliophiles tried to bribe theowners with wine and meat andother Cape products. Volumeswere borrowed and copied.Even the Bible was found infew homes. Sick comforterswent round the seventeenthcentury town reading passagesfrom printed sermons. Only

towards the end of theeighteenth century were Biblesimported in any numbers,bulky and expensive volumes.Wealthy readers sent toHolland for books. Joachim vonDessin, regarded as the firstAfricana collector, went roundbuying up books during asmallpox epidemic. He waiteduntil the owner of a library diedand then appeared on thedoorstep so quickly thatrelatives were shocked; but

they parted with the books. Inthis way he built up a library offour thousand five hundredvolumes, an enormouscollection in the middle of theeighteenth century. The diary ofAdam Tas was among hispossessions. (His estate alsoincluded a pedra porca orsnake stone, believed byignorant people to extractvenom from victims ofsnakebite or poisonousinsects.) Von Dessin was one of

the founders of the SouthAfrican Public Library.

Reading became easier duringthe early nineteenth centurythough even then most peoplein Cape Town had to rely onauction sales for theirliterature. Strombom theauctioneer advertised the saleof thirteen trunks filled withEnglish books in 1802 and adoctor named Tyler put somany books on the market that

the sale lasted several days. Thefirst regular bookseller in thetown was W. E. Sheppard,whose shop was in theHeerengracht. He offeredCampbell's "Travels in SouthAfrica", Barrow's two volumesand other books now in the"blue chip" class. Wentzel ofMarket (now Greenmarket)Square was another pioneerbookseller. He importedencyclopaedias and sets ofShakespeare and warned the

public that if these gems werenot snapped up immediatelythey would be sent on to India.

Howell, who organised CapeTown's first lending library,offered charts of the Cape andthe "Complete Farmer". JosephSuasso de Lima, the Dutchhunchback who enlivened theCape Town literary scene forforty years, was a writer,bookseller, editor of almanacsand a weekly newspaper and

compiler of the first Africanacatalogue. This last work,entitled "Register of all books,pamphlets and documentsrelating to the Cape of GoodHope", appeared in 1856 aftersixteen years' work.

First of all the books to bewritten and printed in SouthAfrica was the "MissionaryLetter" (1799) now in the SouthAfrican Public Library. Themissionary Dr Johannes

Vanderkemp published a littlespelling book of about threethousand monosyllables in1802; and in the same year theRev. Meent Borcherds ofStellenbosch brought out hispoem "De Maan, een Leerdight"of twenty-nine pages. RobertSemple, the Cape Townmerchant, published his "Walksand Sketches at the Cape ofGood Hope" a year later butthis was printed in London.Samuel DanielPs book of

engravings called "AfricanScenery" was also published inLondon at this period. This finework rose in value fromeighteen pounds between theworld wars to one hundredpounds after World War II anda good copy of the folio wouldbe worth considerably morenow. Cape Town authors had tostruggle hard to achievepublication early last century. Aminister named Thorn gatheredmaterial for a book entitled

"The Caves of South Africa" andappealed through the "CapeTown Gazette" for money tohave the book printed.Apparently there was noresponse. Then came "On DeLima" with his interesting floodof publications. The versatile C.E. Boniface, ex-naval officer,linguist, musician andtheatrical producer, also addedto the Africana of the periodwhen he published an accountof the wreck of the French ship

L'Etoile. It was not until largeand enterprising firms enteredthe publishing business,however, that local Africanabegan to flourish. Van derSandt and Saul Solomon werepioneers and J. C. Juta arrivedfrom Holland in the middle oflast century. Juta publishedBowler's "Album of CapeTown", prized by all collectors.

Sir George Grey, governor ofthe Cape in the middle of last

century, was a great Africanacollector. He left fifteenhundred items to the SouthAfrican Public Library. At thesame period Dr W. H. I. Bleekwas building up his collectionof books on African nativelanguages. John Noble and C. A.Fairbridge were famous earlycollectors. In recent yearsMajor William Jardine, awealthy business man, formeda splendid Africana library.Many of his rare pictures are to

be seen in the South AfricanPublic Library; the view of CapeTown by Craig, Bowlers, nativetypes by Samuel Daniell andsome fine water colours.Jardine was able to acquirecopies of those early travellersthat every Africana enthusiastlongs to see on his shelves. Heowned the narratives of thePortuguese explorers, DeBarros and Camoens; Dutchand English travellers,Houtman and Hakluyt, Purchas

and others; Sir Thomas Herbert(1626), Dapper (1686), Tachard(1688), Ten Rhyne (1707) andValentyn (1726). Quartovolumes and de luxe editionswith handsome bindings andcolour plates were added to thecollection. He ownedautographs of Cape governorsright back to Adrian van derStel. He gathered a complete setof the official "Gazette" from1800 onwards. Many runs ofold newspapers were to be

found in his library on theestate Applegarth at Sir Lowry'sPass. He had letters written byJohn Fairbairn the journalistand Pringle the poet. Earlyexamples of printing frommission presses and old mapswere among his treasures.Jardine was born at the Cape in1867. He made a point ofmeeting the great figures inCape history of his period. Alibrarian said of him: "MajorJardine was himself a piece of

Africana, a living link with thepast and an historical characterin his own right."

When the Jardine library wassold just before World War IIan outstanding personality inthe Africana field was called in.This was Mr. Ernest PeverellKitch, a dealer whose shops inLong Street and later in ChurchStreet were the scenes of manyof my own exciting littletriumphs when I discovered an

Africana book or pamphletfilled with inspiring or usefulmaterial. "Books Unlimited", asKitch called his shop, was adark place with stepladders anddusty shelves; but almost everyimportant or obscure item ofAfricana passed through hishands and I never knew what toexpect when I visited him. Icould have spent a year in thatshop without buying a book andKitch would not have minded.He was, of course, the greatest

Africana dealer of his periodand one of the first to sense theboom that was coming in theseold books. Kitch landed in CapeTown at the age of seven andwent to work in Darter'sbookshop in 1888, when he wasthirteen. He compiled his firstAfricana catalogue while still inhis teens. Prices in that pioneerlist had risen five times whenKitch had his famous catalogueof August 1937 printed. Thisyellow-covered work of over

one hundred pages is now acollector's piece. Five times, butthe librarian of today would bevery pleased indeed to payKitch's 1937 prices. Kolbe wasto be had for twenty-fivepounds; a large calf-bound copyof his description of the Cape ofGood Hope, published in 1727in Amsterdam. Sam Sly's"African Journal", the raresecond volume, was offered attwelve guineas. You could buythe travels of Sir John Barrow,

two volumes in halfmorocco forten guineas and Sparrman'svoyage for eight guineas. Evenin those days such books wererecognised as gems. Such amagnificent work as "The WildSports of Southern Africa" byHarris appeared in the Kitchcatalogue at twentysevenshillings and sixpence. Harriswrote another book called"Portraits of Game and WildAnimals in South Africa" thatfetched about twenty pounds

between the wars and rose tofive times that amount recently.Kitch handled "The KaffirsIllustrated" (1849) by GeorgeAngus, asking about thirty-fivepounds for a book that is nowworth two hundred pounds ormore. He sold Bowler's"Pictorial Album of Cape Town"(an item that seemsinescapable in any Africanadiscussion) for twenty pounds.You can bid up to five timesthat price at an auction sale

nowadays without any risk.

At "Books Unlimited" it waspossible to find the rare book inwhich Nathaniel Isaacsdescribed his life among theZulus. Kitch charged twentypounds; one-fifth of the presentvalue. The celebrated "CapeFlowers by a Lady" cost abouteight pounds; and like otherrare botanical works it hasmultiplied in value by ten ortwelve. Sir Andrew Smith's

"Zoology of South Africa", a finework with colour platespublished in the middle of lastcentury, fetched only abouttwenty-five pounds in Kitch'sday; now you can multiply thatvalue by ten. Why are thesehuge increases recorded?Dealers are sending Africanaworks, the classics and ordinaryitems, out of South Africa to fillthe gaps in great libraries allover the world. Few copiesreturn to this country and so

collectors are forced to paymore and more for thedesirable items.

Mr R. F. M. Immelman, theUniversity of Cape Townlibrarian, traced many unusualAfricana rarities. Catalogues ofearly book auctions or lists ofbooks in insolvent estates haverevealed the literary tastes oflong ago. He found themanuscript of a Dutch sailor'ssong in the Kimberley Public

Library. One such song, writtenbefore the end of theeighteenth century, gave anidea of the sea-weary mariner'slonging for the blessings of theland. Here is a sample:

Een frissche roemer Kaapsche

wyn Zal hem, die geld heeft,smaaklik zyn

Mr Immelman has also drawnattention to a hand-writtencookery book compiled in India

by Rudyard Kipling's motherand containing six Cape recipes.Anglo-Indian invalidsrecuperating at the Capecollected these recipes andpassed them on to friends inIndia. This book is now in theUniversity Library.

Collectors of Afrikaans items ofAfricana are always deeplyinterested in early examples ofwritten Afrikaans. Mr P. J.Nienaber, a leading authority

on this subject, awards firstplace to a poem in honour ofSwellendam heroes who foughtin the bloedige actie atMuizenberg on August 7, 1795.In the eighteen twenties camean Afrikaans dialogue by M. D.Teenstra and various works bySuasso de Lima. "KaatjeKekkelbek" by Rex and Bainfollows; and the versatileBoniface, whose activities Ihave already mentioned, wasfirst in the Afrikaans field in

Natal with his contributions to"De Natalier". A number ofAfrikaans articles werepublished in the "CradockNews" in 1860 and after thatdate written Afrikaans ceased tobe a rarity. It has beensuggested that the first bookprinted in Afrikaans (thenknown as Cape Dutch orKombuis Hollands) was apamphlet intended for Malays,a religious handbook that wasproduced without the usual

machinery. ChristiaanSchonegevel, a Long Streetartist, printer and teacher ofmusic and drawing, has beencredited with this effort.According to the historian F. R.Bradlow the book came out in1856, five years before L. H.Meurant's well-known"Zamenspraak tusschen KlaasWaarzegger en Jan Twijfelaar".It seems that the manuscript ofanother Afrikaans handbook forCape Malays entitled

"Bajaanoedien" was sent toIstanbul in 1874 and eighthundred copies were printedthere. The characters wereArabic but the language was theauthentic speech of the CapeMalays at that period. Very fewcopies have survived. AnEnglish translation waspublished by the University ofLeiden about ten years agounder the title: "The ReligiousDuties of Islam as taught byAbu Bakr Effendi".

Women have been among theoutstanding collectors andauthorities on Africana. InNatal there was Dr KillieCampbell; in the Cape theexpert Miss Kathleen M.Jeffreys passed on to me a littleof her enormous experience.Miss Jeffreys was born in CapeTown. Her childhood memoriesincluded South African Warscenes, for she carried giftsfrom her mother to the troopsin camp on Signal Hill. "I was a

rebellious child, and years afterI left the Huguenot Seminary atWellington they were stilltalking of me as the naughtiestchild ever known at the school,"Miss Jeffreys told me."However, I became a schoolteacher myself after training atthe old Normal College inBloemfontein." Her salary wastwelve pounds a month, andwhen she had saved onehundred pounds she decided totake a degree in history and

modern languages at Rhodes.This led to her appointment atthe Archives in 1917.Immediately she came underthe spell of bygonepersonalities. She sat in thechair not long vacated by thefirst official archivist, the Rev.H. C. Leibbrandt, and assistedthe gifted and methodical ColinGraham Botha in the task ofextracting rich material fromold documents. "I soon foundthat the real joy of history lay in

the discovery of people as theywere, not as impossibly piouscharacters but as human beingswith human failings," went onMiss Jeffreys. One of thecharacters she came to admiremost during her research workwas Commissioner-General J.A. de Mist, a man whosebrilliant mind was reflectedboth in his handwriting and hiswords. He was given sevenweeks to prepare for hismission to the Cape. In this

time, from sources available inHolland, he wrote amemorandum which showed aremarkable grasp of thesituation. His ideas were far inadvance of early nineteenth-century thought. Then therewas Sir George Grey, ascholarly man who appealed toMiss Jeffreys because of hislove of books. Grey wassickened by the game slaughterhe saw when entertainingPrince Alfred in South Africa in

1860, and later in his life hebought an island in NewZealand waters and set up anature reserve. The tragedy ofGrey's life (glossed over by hisbiographers) was his marriage.His pretty wife appears to havebeen unfaithful during a voyageto the Cape and they wereseparated for many years. MissJeffreys discovered a scrap ofunrecorded history, however,when she learnt that the Greyswere reunited in old age.

I asked Miss Jeffreys to recallthe most dramatic documentshe had ever found in theArchives. "In the days whencensorship at the Cape was sostrict that the only printingpress was kept at the Castle apamphlet was printed theresecretly," replied Miss Jeffreys."It was written by Van Pallandt,secretary to Janssens, anddated 1802, so that it must havebeen the first pamphlet printedat the Cape. The title was

'General Remarks on the Capeof Good Hope', and VanPallandt criticized theGovernment. The copy I foundwas the only one still inexistence. I have alwayswondered how he carried outthe daring plan of using thepress for this purpose under thevery noses of the people he wasattacking."

In the huge Africana collectionwhich Miss Jeffreys formed

were many albums of earlyCape Town photographs. Sheleft a great wealth of material tothe Cape archives. Among herthousands of photographs aremany views taken in the earlyeighteen-seventies by Mr E. J.Steer, a member of the firstCape Town PhotographicSociety. Earlier still is a pictureof the English Church at ThreeAnchor Bay, which was abrewery before it was turnedinto a church. That print is well

over a century old.

Miss Jeffreys also had manyfamily daguerrotypes and alarge number of portraits ofBeaufort West people,ancestors of present residents.Unfortunately no one everthought of writing names onthe backs of portraits and manyremain unidentified. Her ownhome was at Camps Bay, andshe had a set of photographsshowing the construction of the

vanished tramway lines.Another set illustrates theKasteel's Poort cableway liftingmaterial for the building of theTable Mountain reservoirs.Miss Jeffreys also collectedCape Town theatrical andconcert programmes. The seriesstarts with the concert given inhonour of Prince Alfred at theCommercial Exchange in 1860,and includes eleven operasperformed in Cape Town in1888.

On Saturday mornings I oftenfound Miss Jeffreys in chargeof a secondhand bookstall onthe Parade, an occupationwhich allowed her to studyhuman nature at first hand. Shenever lived entirely in the past.Years ago, when she was acustomer herself, she foundAfricana bargains on theParade. She bought the firstAfrikaans almanac, publishedin Paarl in 1877, for a tickey.But in recent years the stall-

holders have come to knowexactly what they are selling.Miss Jeffreys was a widelytravelled woman, though mostof an overseas holiday betweenthe wars was spent in thearchives of the Hague andLondon. She was a linguist -English, Afrikaans, Nederlands,French and German - and sheacquired a smattering ofHindustani before visitingIndia.

Long ago she published threelittle books of poetry. Part I ofthe "Kaapse Plakkaatboek" wasthe work of Miss Jeffreys, andshe translated thememorandum of her hero, DeMist, into English forpublication by the VanRiebeeck Society. Her years inthe Archives were peaceful butshe remembered one alarminginterlude. For a fortnight sheassisted an odd-looking,eccentric man who declared

that he had come to theArchives to find material for a"truthful history of SouthAfrica". At last the searchersfound him. He was an escapedlunatic.

"Book collecting is the leastobnoxious and the mostbeneficial form of the collectinginstinct," Miss Jeffreysdeclared. "Books reveal thecollector. For that reason thelibraries of famous people

should never be broken up."When she retired from theArchives after twenty-nineyears of service Miss Jeffreysmade catalogues of libraries,attended sales of books andvalued Africana items. She leftthe most valuable part of hercollection, about fifteenthousand books on Africa southof the Zambezi, to the CapeArchives. A sale of other items,held in Cape Town duringFebruary 1969, was attended by

dealers and collectors from allover the country. Six hundredlots were listed. Her rare Capesilver included a marrow scoopand a pair of shoe buckles. Oneof her albums of what shecalled "neglected littleephemera" fetched fifty Rands."There was nothing she did notcollect," remarked an expert atthe sale. Miss Jeffreyspreserved many facets ofhumanity from the middens ofour social past.

Mr C. Struik, that shrewd CapeTown dealer in Africana, laiddown certain rules for thosewho wish to become intelligentcollectors. Condition iseverything. That rule applies tostamps and coins and thecondition of a book is of firstimportance. Foxing may reducethe value by half. At sales, whenthe vultures gather, thecollector must make sure theitems he has chosen arecomplete; and if there is a page

or a map missing from onebook there may be otherincomplete works in the samelibrary. The true bibliophile isalways replacing imperfectbooks with clean copies. Pricesof great Africana and standardAfricana are always rising andmany books will yield ten percent a year. However, the trueAfricana collector finds thefiercest joy in collecting ratherthan selling.

Chapter Eight - WiseAppetite

That which is not good isnot delicious

To a well-governed andwise appetite.

MILTON

My own Africana collection hasa strong food and wine sectionand these books I shall neversell. I can trace the meals of

strandlopers and explorers atthe Cape long before VanRiebeeck landed; and my recipebooks and menus run throughthe cooking methods of thecenturies from campfires tomodern infra-red stoves.

Jessie Conrad, wife of the greatsea novelist, declared that theobject of a cookery book couldonly be to increase thehappiness of mankind. Sheregarded conscientious cooking

as the enemy of gluttony, withthe trained delicacy of thepalate, like a cultivated delicacyof sentiment, standing in theway of unseemly excesses. Mybooks on gastronomy take theirplace next to the pleasures ofthe table. They have flavour andaroma. Gone are the days whenI could find with ease the oldCape dishes as they cookedthem during my childhood atMadeira House, the oldMadeira House at the top of

Plein Street. No longer does theWhite House Hotel in StrandStreet put on a sosatie mealwith as many exoticaccompaniments as a Javaneserystafel. But I have the menusand the recipes. I can almostsavour the richness of thebanquets of long ago.

This journey through therecords of enjoyment begins inthe sailing ships of theexplorers and those who

followed. Epicures of thosedays spoke of knocking themaggots out of their hard ship'sbiscuits when they sat down toa meal. They lived on salted orsmoked beef, mutton and goatserved up in soups and stewswith barley, peas or beansadded. Butter was a luxury. Oilor vinegar were included in therations. Salt herrings appearedtwice a week. Beer and Spanishwine were doled out carefully tothe crew; never as much as

those tough seamen wanted.Mustard and honey wereregarded as medicines. Spicessuch as pepper and ginger werereserved for the sick. Cheesewas available in the early partof the voyage from Holland butit soon went bad.Distinguished;passengers faredbetter, of course, for they hadpickled rolpens (mince intripe), dried bread, dried herbs,salt cabbage. Green beans werepreserved in barrels with salt,

pepper and vinegar. By the timea ship reached the Cape thescurvy-stricken crew were avidfor the fresh foods andmedicinal plants of TableValley. They saw the veldkoscollected by the Hottentots andgathered the wild plants forthemselves. These were thelonged-for blessings of the land.

Here it may be noted that thefloral kingdom of the Capeprovided early visitors with

valuable medicines rather thansatisfying foodstuffs. Explorerswho landed in the West Indiesand the Americas foundpotatoes and maize, tomatoes,tropical fruits and otherwonders. At the Cape the sickand hungry seamen had tocontent themselves withuintjies, the bulbs that tastelike chestnuts when cooked; orthe wateruintjies that resemblethe pistachio and spinachflavour in a stew. (French ships

carried this plant back to Brestand cultivated it for the flowers,but the chefs soon discoveredother qualities.) The sweetishsuikerwortel or anyswortel,rather like the parsnip ofcivilisation, was another Caperoot that helped to cure scurvy;and this, too, was sent to Parisand grown there as a food plant.During the months of May andJune they picked the flowerbuds of the wild cabbage, theveldskool, that makes a fine

bredie and a still morewonderful creamed puree. Wildasparagus was eaten with relishfor the young shoots are adelicacy. They also gathered anedible palmiet in the vleis.Augustin de Beaulieu (1620),the French navigator, gavedetails of the Hottentot diet:"They eat certain roots whichare their chief food, about thesize of small chestnuts andwhite, with a stalk like that of aleek but narrower and not

dentated and bearing a whiteflower; they are pretty tasty."Thirty years later anotherFrenchman, the widely-travelled Tavernier, wrote of aroot eaten by the natives. "Itmuch resembles our sugar-root.This they roast and it servesthem for bread. Sometimes alsothey make a flour from it,which tastes like oatmeal."

Those old seamen, roaming theveld close to Table Valley, saw

the yellow sorrel flower and atethe roots. The fresh, acidflavour was extremely welcomeafter the long salt diet of midocean. They ate scarlet berriescautiously, the berries knownlater as bokdorings. Among thedunes they picked the greenpods of melkelsies, a sort ofwild lettuce found among thornbushes. It was not a feast but itcured their spongy gums andtheir teeth became firm again.

Peter Floris, a Dutch seamanwho called at the Cape in theEnglish ship Globe early in theseventeenth century, referredin his writings to his search fora root called ningin. Floris saidthat a Japanese sailor haddiscovered this root near theshores of Table Bay and hadreported that it was identicalwith the Korean ginseng, whichwas worth its weight in silver."I used great diligence inseeking out the root, according

to our instruction, two Hollandships being expressly comehere for the same purpose,"Floris wrote. "But being wintertime there was for this timenothing more to be done but togo away as wise as we came, forthe old root being decayed androtten the new leaf began onlyto come forth... the right timeof gathering the same being inDecember, January andFebruary, being called of theseinhabitants Canna." This none-

too-clear description presentedbotanists with a mystery thathas never been solved. Dr D. J.Burtt Davy and the Kew expertsthought it might have beenLichtensteinia interrupta, amedicinal plant widelydistributed in South Africa;however, this has never beenrecorded near Table Bay. It isinteresting to note from theFloris narrative that Japanesesailors visited the Cape in thesixteenth and seventeenth

centuries. But what did theyreally find?

Van Riebeeck tried to cultivatethe veldkos of the Hottentotsbut failed. His gardeners hadbetter luck with the "wild plantsof Africa", the medicinal plants.About half a century later aDutch ship's surgeon namedCornelius Valk was granted thefarm that became known asValkenburg so that he couldgrow the plants that would cure

scurvy and other complaints.He treated soldiers and sailorswho were suffering fromvitamin deficiency and mentalafflictions. Part of the house hebuilt is still there and there isstill a mental hospital on thesite.

Van Riebeeck's diaries are fullof descriptions of food, with anote of yearning oftenapparent. Officers at the Castleseldom went hungry though a

cuisine in which a leg ofpenguin was looked upon as adelicacy cannot have beenluxurious. The commander wasalways loud in his praise of theCape food; but I wonderwhether the dassies fromDassen Island were really"more delicious than any othermeat we had ever tasted". Theycould have filled their bellieswith every sort of wild animalfrom hippo to wild duck andsometimes they did so.

Unfortunately the Dutchhunters were armed with suchprimitive weapons that themeat problem remainedunsolved for many years. Whenthe fat-tailed sheep werebrought from Robben Island tothe Castle it was a time forrejoicing. More often they satdown to the interminableharders, steenbras and snoek.Penguins were knocked downby the hundred and sent toTable Bay salted in barrels. Van

Riebeeck's men were such greatmeat-eaters that they eventackled baboon flesh, butwithout enthusiasm.

By the end of the seventeenthcentury the Cape settlementhad become noted for thequality and variety of the food.The Abbé de Choisy, passingthrough on his way to Siam,declared: "I doubt if anywherein the world there is a bettercountry to live in than the Cape

of Good Hope. Everywherethere is excellent beef, muttonand poultry. The game isdelicious. Of three kinds ofpartridge, white, red and grey,there are some as big asfattened chickens. They havenot the flavour of Avergnepartridges, but their meat isshort, white and tender andthey are tasty at least as hazel-hens." Mentzel, writing a fewdecades later, counted fiftydishes at a dinner. He said it

was as elaborate as Amsterdam.The meal started with a tureenof strong cucumber flavouredsoup, fish pickled in oil andbeef with sauce. The mainroasts were turkey and venisonwith rice, followed by hotpasties of pigeon and rabbit. Itended with sweetmeats andfruit. Certainly a cuisine thatVan Riebeeck never knew whilehe was commander.

No doubt there were cookery

books on board Van Riebeeck'sships though I have neverdiscovered a mention of them.Cooks at the Castle must haveused some of the Dutch recipebooks that were printed in thelow countries during thecentury and a half before VanRiebeeck landed. You will findin the Leipoldt collection, SouthAfrican Library, a reprint of"Het Eerste NederlandscheGedrukte Kookboek," printed in1510. Woodcuts show

appropriate kitchen scenes. DrC. Louis Leipoldt was anauthority on cookery books oldand new and I often discussedthis subject with him. He toldme of a Dutch cookery bookthat was translated andpublished in England duringthe seventeeth century -"Receipts for Dutch Victuals".This was the period whenflowers and herbs unknowntoday were included in recipes.The advice given in these early

books was not limited tocookery and medicines. Moralswere included and women wereinformed that they must be"upright and sincerelyreligious". Leipoldt wasnaturally interested in the closelink between medicine andcookery. Seventeenth andeighteenth century cookerybooks were written in Englandby medical practitioners. DrLister, physician to QueenAnne, remarked: "No man can

be a good physician who hasnot a competent knowledge ofcookery." But the phrase thatamused Leipoldt was uttered byDr Samuel Johnson the author:"For my part I mind my bellyvery studiously and verycarefully, for I look upon it, thathe who does not mind his bellywill hardly mind anything else."Leipoldt called one of his ownbooks on food "The BellyBook".

Leipoldt delighted inhandwritten recipe bookscompiled at the Cape andhanded down from mother todaughter, generation aftergeneration. He showed me thework of the Widow vanBlommestein written towardsthe end of the eighteenthcentury. It opened withamandelkoekies and sagopudding; there were recipes forstuffed snoek, whole orangekonfyt and a remedy for

"Zweerende" chest. He had inhis collection the Manuelfamily recipes starting in 1836and the Schwage collection ofthe same period. Leipoldtcompared these manuscriptswith those printed in thepioneer European cookery bookwritten by J. B. Platina, theVatican librarian andgastronome towards the end ofthe fifteenth century. "I foundno great difference in essentialsthough the details vary

considerably," Leipoldtsummed up. "This study led meto the conclusion that SouthAfrican cookery, and thecookery of nearly all civilisedlands, is based on the carefulblending of flavours that had itsorigin in Italy in the MiddleAges."

It was in an old Italian cookerybook that Leipoldt came acrossa recipe for bobotie under thatvery name. South Africans

think of this curried mince(with almonds on top) as thevery essence of the old Capecuisine. In fact it was afavourite of Richard Coeur-de-Lion back in the twelfth centuryand according to "TraditionalFare of England and Wales" itwas still a popular dish in themiddle of the eighteenthcentury. I would not expect tofind it on the menu atSimpson's-in-the-Strandnowadays.

I copied a very old recipe basedon one of Leipoldt's manuscriptbooks, one that he greatlyrelished every grape season. Hecalled it "hanepoot hen". "Takea fat hen; prepare it for the pot,and wipe it dry inside and out.Rub the outside with half alemon and the inside with astick of green ginger. Put it inan iron pot with a tablespoon offresh lard and a cupful of redwine, and let it braise slowly,taking care that it does not

brown. It must remain a richgolden colour throughout theproceedings until it is broughtto the table. When it is tender,take it out, salt and pepper it(some folk add a green chilli)and let it stand in the pot whileyou prepare the filling. For thisyou take a bunch of ripehanepoot grapes and plunge itinto boiling water so that youcan peel the berries easily. Takeout their pips, which you maythrow away as they serve no

further purpose in theseproceedings. The berries youwill divide into two parts; onepart you will put into thevacancies of the fowl, adding asnippet of lemon peel here andthere; the other part you willput in the pot on which younow put the lid, after havingfirst poured over the bird asmall wineglassful of brandy.Let the pot simmer for a while,usually not longer than fifteenminutes. Take out the fowl and

put it on its dish; arrange theberries neatly round it; make agravy of what remains in thepot by binding it with a littleflour and the yolk of an eggbeaten up. Serve with rice and asalad. For extra refinementsome cooks mince the hen'sliver with a little shallot and apinch of mace and mix this withthe berries when they are put inthe bird. But the dish is quitewell enough without it."

The printed Dutch recipe bookthat was used by generations ofCape Town housewives was thecelebrated "Aaltje, of de ZuinigeKeukenmeid". This workappears to have started as "DeVolmaakte HollandscheKeukenmeid" in the middle ofthe eighteenth century. Manyeditions were published but thebasic recipes remainedunchanged. When you readthese old books it is easy toimagine a Dutch family sitting

round a polished table eatingthe sort of lavish and colourfulmeals to be found in so manypaintings by Dutch masters.You see a nation of soup andpotato lovers, with hare andrabbit as favourite dishes. Thethin pancakes called flensjes aredescribed, to be eaten withmolasses, brown sugar orginger. It is strange to see snoekballetjes in the index; a dishmade with the Dutch pike.

For years Leipoldt tried tolocate the first South Africanprinted cookery book. He toldme that a copy of the firstAmerican cookery book, atattered copy, fetched fivehundred pounds at auction; andhe would have paid a high pricefor the Cape counterpart. Thedisappearance of every copy ofthe first Cape cookery book is adeep mystery. Apparently theauthor's name was Cleghornand his collection of Cape

recipes was mentioned in aCape Town newspaper in theeighteen-sixties. Leipoldtsearched libraries and second-hand bookshops in vain for theelusive Cleghorn. However, hemanaged to secure a copy of theearliest known printed book inthis class, a small octavopamphlet by a Pietermaritzburgfirm and dated 1879. I havestudied this untitled andanonymous work in the SouthAfrican Library. It opens with

soup recipes supplied by M. E.L., Mrs Masters, Mrs Waltersand others; Scotch muttonbroth, tomato soup, kidneysoup and French milk soup.Then you come to fish cakes,kedgeree, oyster kromeskiesand fillets of salmon.Conventional egg and meatdishes are included and it isonly when you come to thesweets that you find a typicallySouth African recipe. Thereamong the canary, date and

other puddings is a boermeelpudding contributed by Mrs.Shepherd. Among the biscuitsare boerbeskuit and mieliemeelrecipes. Guava jelly, ginger andmelon jam and pawpaw jamwere made in those days. Youalso find banana chutney,preserved watermelon andnartjie preserve.

Next on the pioneer list is"Cape Cookery" by Miss AliceHewitt, a little work for which

Leipoldt had a high regard.Miss Hewitt was the daughterof a Cape Town merchant wholived in the Schoenmaker's Gathomestead overlooking Clifton.Eleven children were bornthere, Alice in 1832. Alice nevermarried but remained at homehelping her mother andcollecting the recipes whichwere first published in 1889 byDarter. Mrs M. Hanley, arelative, has recalled that "AuntAllie" later ran a school for girls

in Roeland Street and a fancyshop in Wale Street. AliceHewitt retired to Sea Point anddied there at the age of eighty-eight at her home in LondonRoad.

"Cape Cookery" (sub-titled"Simple yet Distinctive")opened with a description ofthe Cape fish. She had somegood fish stews and a numberof authentic Cape crawfishrecipes. Alice knew how to

make the klipkous tender; shecould pickle a snoek and turnout fish rissoles. Her meat andpoultry section started with potroasting and went on to thetraditional hoenderpastei,soutribbetjie and bobotie. Iwish that I could have cut intoher quail pie. All the bredies areto be found in her pages. Thereis a potato stew with sago andfat mutton. She could buy a pouat the market in those days andshe roasted it like turkey; this

would now be an illegal feast.Her sheep's head soup musthave been a terrific plate. Shedescribed a "real Cape curry"that included diced mutton,dried apricots, dried coconut,bay leaves, milk, onion and"Captain White's curry paste".(I had never heard of CaptainWhite before.) Alice Hewitt'ssausages, home-made andsmoked in the chimney, soundbetter than some of today'sbangers. She winds up with

predikant's tart, boer's birthdaycake, boerkoekies,mosbolletjies, Bredasdorppudding, yellow rice, konfytsand jellies and chutneys. This isa true Cape recipe book by thedaughter of a Londoner and aScottish girl from Edinburgh.One edition after anotherappeared during the next twodecades. Years ago I had to payone pound for the 1911 editionand I am sure it is worthseveral times that amount now.

Mrs A. R. Barnes, acontemporary of Miss Hewitt,came out in 1889 with her"Colonial Household Guide".She knew how to cook buck andguinea fowl. Her medical hintsmay have helped "isolatedmothers". She recommended abucket of water and a quart ofoatmeal for a tired horse andalso told readers how to put outa fire in the chimney. As a cook,however, it must be admittedthat Mrs Barnes was not in the

same class as "Aunt Allie".

I need only mention thefamous "Hilda's Where is It?"briefly. The firm of Chapmanand Hall, London, firstpublished this little book byHildagonda Duckitt in 1891 andmany thousands of copies weresold. Of course there was alarge demand in South Africabut Hilda was a bestseller inEngland, too. I like to think ofVictorian housewives in

Manchester poring over themebos recipe and a Cockney'bus-driver coming home tofind Mrs J. Cloete's ouderwetsechicken pie on the table.

A valuable bibliography onSouth African cookery by E. J.Paap, published by theUniversity of Cape Town, listsnearly three hundred books andpamphlets. In the BritishMuseum Library, London, Ifound items that had escaped

this careful bibliographer. Thislibrary has the largest collectionof South African cookery books(especially the early ones) inthe world. Possibly it cameabout as a result of an oldcopyright agreement. If youwant recipes published by theDiocesan School for Girls inGrahamstown before WorldWar I or curry and riceaccording to the NatalTechnical College method, orthe sour fig preserve

recommended by the MethodistWomen's Auxiliary (Capedistrict) you will find themamong the five million volumesin the great circular reading-room of the British Museum.Here, too, you may read acookery book written in 1912 byMrs P. W. de Klerk telling youhow to grease a saddle and getrid of baboons. Her atjar,bobotie and kaffir melon jamrecipes are more appetising.

Some so-called South Africanrecipe books contain very fewCape recipes. For example, anold book written by "a CapeLady F. R." has only soetkoekiesand nartjie preserve to justifythe title. Neither the lady northe printer could spell. A moreinteresting effort called "Tafel-Vreugde" by Mrs D. F.Malherbe appeared inBloemfontein soon after WorldWar I. The first edition is now avaluable Africana item. Mrs

Malherbe had nine strongsoups, including one made withfish heads. Hersnoekmootjiesambaal and saltsnoek salad must have pleasedthose who tasted them. Thebook was reprinted in 1926 as"Eet met Lus" and is now to befound on many shelves.

An early Natal cookery bookhas recipes for egg-plantcutlets, curried egg-plant andrice, pilau of chicken and

msobo jam made with wildblackberries found in themealie fields. According to acookery booklet published bythe South African SugarAssociation, mealie bread is aNatal contribution to the SouthAfrican cuisine. Leipoldtdeclared that this was a trueAfrikaans item, not to be foundin overseas cookery books.Mealie bread was made inSouth America, home of themealie, but the method was

different. Leipoldt favoured arecipe in which boiled greenmealies were cut off, ground,mixed with milk, cream, a littlesugar, salt and nutmeg; thenplaced in a mould and steamed.It was cut and served as avegetable with meat; or it couldbe eaten as a pudding with asweet sauce. According to theSugar Association, traditionalSouth African soups are hard tofind; but bean soup andartichoke soup are suggested as

typical soups of the country.

Among the recipes fromHolland that have survivedalmost unchanged in SouthAfrica are those for the ginger-beer made by the cask in theplatteland as a Christmas andNew Year drink. TheDepartment of Agriculture,which does so much toencourage good cooking, haspublished this recipe. Other oldDutch delicacies are the rolled

wafers called oblietjies and theflat buns known as tempies. Ibelieve Van Riebeeck's pickledmeat recipe tasaalvleis is stillfollowed in the country.

My collection includes manypamphlets sent out free (oralmost free) by variouscommercial firms, boards andsemi government bodies toexplain how certain foodsshould be used. I have bookletson lemons and dairy products,

eggs and raisins, beef and pork,fish and pastry. Some of thefinest recipe books are thosecompiled by women'sassociations as fundraisingefforts. The recipes are usuallysuccessful, tested recipes basedon the personal experiences ofmembers. Typical of theseuseful pamphlets is one called"Household Hints" by Mrs M.E. Heighway and Mrs C. J. H.Schoombie of the South AfricanRailway Women's Association

(Kimberley branch). This effortfirst appeared before WorldWar II. Each woman whocontributed a recipe gavesixpence to the fund and onethousand copies were sold. Oneedition after another appearedwith additional recipes and acopy is to be found amongQueen Elizabeth's cookerybooks. I do not know whetherthe soet-suurdeeg recipe forbrown bread has been used atBuckingham Palace yet. Many

other Cape favourites are there,from snoek kedgeree to stuffedvenison, if the royal chefs needthem.

I am especially interested inlittle school and other cookerypamphlets containing regionaldishes. One school on thebanks of the Orange River tellsyou how to use the dates grownthere in cakes and tarts. I havea cutting from Oudtshoorndescribing ostrich delicacies;

ostrich gizzard with sour creamsauce; stuffed ostrich leg;savoury ostrich egg and so on. Aschool magazine publishedyears ago in the North WestCape contains practical adviceon the veldkos of theNieuwoudtville district, thebaroe and voëlvoet dug out bytrekboers, shepherds andschoolboys. You learn thatrapdol is nice but hard to find.The most plentiful varieties arekruluintjies, soetuintjies and

kraaiuintjies found in sandysoil. You can tell thebobbejaanuintjie by its lovelyflowers. The tghab growsamong the vyebos and the stalkis edible. Look for vinkels afterrain but do not eat too many atonce. Yes, the schoolboys ofNieuwoudtville led me into anew world of flavour.

Another pamphlet describessweet potato pudding, karoocheese pie (with tender

Jerusalem artichokes lining thedish), karoo biscuits andspringbok cake. A forgottenNatal effort gives me pawpawcocktail, baked bananas andavocado sherbet. Pamphletsedited by women are alwaysloaded with puddings andcakes; thus the women of anagricultural association in theCape have a different puddingfor every day of the year. Itopens with almond cream andruns the gamut to

wortelpoeding, every recipebearing the name of thecontributor.

When you have steepedyourself in the inspirationalaromas that drift out of allthese cookery books, old andnew, the essence of Capecookery rises before you. It is,of course, a blend of west andeast with the south-easters ofthe south playing their vitalpart and keeping the kitchen

fires burning. You mayvisualise the original Dutchcooking carried out in the mudfort of Van Riebeeck; strangefishes, queer meats roasted onspits. Then came the Malayswith their oriental skill, curingmeat with spices that made ittaste so much better than salt.Malays brought bredies, too,and even more exotic dishes.Malay slaves learnt much fromtheir Dutch masters and yettheir own influence went so far

into the cuisine that it becamean essential part of a newtechnique. Huguenots broughtthe French touch, a light touch.They used a great deal of lardand taught the older coloniststhe art of placing hot cinders onthe lids of cooking pots; or asthey said in French la cuissonsous la cendre. Leipoldtsuggested that the first biltongwas made in the French Hoekvalley by farmers who used aBasque recipe. Flemish and

Italian dishes are now to befound under Afrikaans names.Germans came along with theirskill as sausage-makers. I havea Cape Town guide publishedearly this century with picturesof the "Brunswick sausage fair"in Shortmarket Street; a hugeshowroom hung with polonies,sausages, hams, game andbiltong. Business men boughtsandwiches there for lunch. Theinfluence of English cooks isalso clear enough in South

Africa though the great Englishdishes are seldom seen at theirbest here. Leipoldt and manyothers have pointed out thatmeat has always been the weakitem in South African cookery.English cooking depends onsome of the finest meat in theworld; prime Scotch beef,Southdown and Hampshiremutton, Welsh mountain lamb,all flavoured by magnificentpastures. "One could only get areally succulent steak in South

Africa on a farm where the hostkilled his own ox and preparedit with loving care," Leipoldtdeclared.

Of course I have a great manymenus in my cookery collectionand here is one Cape farmdinner that contains a grandassortment of the traditionaldishes. It opens with bean soup,the Cape soup that has beencompared with the rich Frenchsobronade of Perigord. Then

perlemoen with rice; suckingpig with baked apples andprunes; chicken pie with yellowrice and raisins; springbok withquince jelly; waterblommetjiebredie; Cape gooseberry tart;wine jelly with cream; coffee. Afarm is the right background forthe old Cape dishes and one ofthe few places where you maybe fairly sure of finding themnowadays. We have the booksbut how seldom we use them.On the farms and in the villages

the great open fireplacessurvive. There the dried fruit isprepared in the old-fashionedway; without sulphur but driedunder the sun and stewed withlemon peel and cinnamon, atrace of nartjie peel and a glassof sweet wine.

There was a time when cookerybooks were simply recipe bookswith home hints and more orless useful medical advice in anappendix. Some of these old

Cape compilers wereunconscious humorists but inother ways they were practicalrather than enjoyable in theliterary sense. South Africa'sfirst food writer to give herwork a picturesque backgroundwas Hildagonda Duckitt in herclassic "Diary of a CapeHousekeeper". Here are thepeople of the Darling district,here is the Victorian scene. Yousee the horses grinding thecorn, the East African cook

(rescued from a slave dhow) inthe enormous kitchen. Thewine grapes come in and Hildarefers you to her recipes forgrape jam and mosbolletjiesmade with the fermented juiceof the steen or hanepoot. This isthe sort of vivid food writingwhich was rare in Britain andAmerica until after World WarII; the writing that is a blend ofromance and happy memoriescombined with practicalexperience. The other Cape

writer who revealed great skillin this direction, of course, wasDr Louis Leipoldt. In his "Kosvir die Kenner", "Diner's Guide"and other works he appears notonly as a skilled cook anddietician but also as a man whohad mastered the art of dining.

Here I must mention two moreSouth African women whomade great names forthemselves in the old-fashionedcookery book tradition. One

was Jeanette van Duyn (MrsSlade), a Porterville girl whowent to the Transvaal. Thereshe met General Louis Botha,who recognised her talent andsent her overseas to studycookery. Later she workedunder famous chefs in London.On her return she lectured allover South Africa, filling hallseverywhere. She taught railwaychefs to prepare the old Capedishes and during World War IIshe lectured to army cooks. Her

first book appeared in 1914 andher works are still in demand.

Thousands of South Africanhousewives possess "ThePractical Cookery Book forSouth Africa" by S. van H.Tulleken. This Transvaalauthor's recipes are always easyto follow. Her exhibits atagricultural shows won manyprizes. All the typical SouthAfrican delicacies appear in herpages from sweet potato tart to

watermelon cake. If you wantcreamed snoek or a GeneralLouis Botha cake, here it is,with prickly pear soup thrownin for good measure.

A more recent writer with theliterary touch was Hilda Gerberof Cape Town. She was inGermany soon after World WarI, when she learnt to overcomeshortages during the period ofsevere rationing. Dr HansHerxheimer, her husband, said

that she left Germany to escapethe Nazi regime. Her recipes areboth simple and imaginativeand she invented many newdishes. Hilda Gerber's"Traditional Cookery of theCape Malays" is far more than arecipe book. It gives you the lifeof the Malay Quarter.

Most cookery books publishedin South Africa between thewars set out to tell thehousewife how to prepare

almost every well-knowneveryday dish. Now thespecialists are claiming ourattention; fish specialists, meatspecialists, curry and ricewizards, braaivleis experts andso on. I remember Leipoldtsaying that sosaties andkarmenaadjies must be placedon a gridiron on the open veldwith the aromatic smoke ofrenosterbos perfuming themeat. Leipoldt had a braaivleisrecipe copied by his

grandmother from aseventeenth century Americancookery book. It was a RedIndian recipe. They rolled themeat in leaves and grilled it in ahole in the ground. This type ofcookery is as old as mankind,the cookery that revivesappetites jaded after too muchelaborate city fare.

Do not ignore the literature ofthe kitchen for it tells the storyof the country and it is full of

unexpected episodes. When theDuke of Wellington was livingin the Cape Peninsula he rodeevery evening from his lodgingsin Maitland to a house inNewlands where a Malay cookprepared marvellous dishes.She had been summoned toGovernment House by LordCharles Somerset to teach theFrench chef the technique ofCape cookery as applied to fish,curry and other specialities.Every night Major Arthur

Wellesley sat down to one ofthe finest meals the Cape couldprovide. Unfortunately thegreat soldier was completelyindifferent to everything placedbefore him, food and wine. Ihope you do not share thatdreadful affliction.

Chapter Nine - CavalcadeOf Cards

Have you noticed how some ofthe most prized possessions ofchildhood vanish in such a waythat you cannot ever rememberparting with them? I still havemy stamp album and some ofmy postcards but my cigarettecards have gone for ever.

One of my favourite Cape Townshops before World War I was

in Plein Street, a little placedevoted to stamps, cigarettecards and postcards. Naturallyit attracted a good manyschoolboys but there were oldercustomers as well. I never knewthe name of the proprietress.She called it the "Hobby Shop"and I recall her as a kindly,rather blousy woman whonipped out occasionally for adrop at the Westminster,leaving a notice on the door:"Back in five minutes." I was

prepared to wait, for the smallshop window was filled withwonderful paper treasuresbeyond my means. She neverreturned in five minutes; butshe was no fool when it came tobuying and selling her wares.

Those were the days of "satininserts" as we called them,cigarette cards printed on silk.They were packed with localcigarettes but they were madein Europe and the colour

printing was superb. Subjectsincluded roses, birds,butterflies, railway engines, seashells, rare postage stamps,famous and beautiful women,flags of all nations and dogs. AsI did not smoke I had a choiceof buying the cards or lookingfor them on the pavements ofCape Town. I never picked up a"satin insert" but the patiencecards issued by another firmwere common enough. Fewcollectors ever completed a

pack as certain cards wereextreme rarities; the idea was tokeep the customers smokingrecklessly in the hope of findingthe missing ace of diamonds.Another popular series depictedthe South African rugbyfootball team of 1912-13 inblack and white. Members ofthe Legislative Assembly camelater but these were never insuch demand as the animalsand silent cinema stars alsofound in "Officer's Mess"

packets. Quite right too.

It was the South African War(you may be surprised to hear)that put cigarette cards intoshop-windows and albums.Tobacco firms had startedpacking cards some yearsearlier, first plain cards asstiffeners and then picturecards. The earliest cigarettecard still eludes the collectorand if ever it can be positivelyidentified it will probably fetch

more than certain Capetriangular stamps. Some say theGermans were first in this widefield; others claim that the ideaoriginated in the United Statesin the eighteen-eighties. Britainfollowed with ships andsoldiers, wild animals andSouth African natives. Even theoldest cards reveal artistic skill,attention to detail and carefulresearch to ensure accuracy. Ofcourse there were protestswhen certain firms gave out

"pin-up girls" and it was saidthat licensed sex was beingplaced on a pedestal. The girlsremained, though they had tocompete with coins of allnations, birds of the tropics,song birds of the world andhousehold hints. A series ofkings and queens of England onsatin appealed so strongly tothe aged Queen Victoria thatshe bought an album andstarted a collection.

Newspapers did not publishphotographs in those days.Sketches of important eventsappeared but these were inblack and white. Thus theoutbreak of the South AfricanWar enabled tobacco firms tofill a gap. They brought outseries after series of militarysubjects so that a goodcollection would form apictorial history of the war.Mistakes were made by printersand these cards, like postage

stamp errors, are rare andvaluable, For example, oneTransvaal series gave a portraitof Major General Pole-Carewon one side and a description ofa naval gun instead of thegeneral's career on the back.Another card gave an account ofWinston Churchill's famousescape but printed a profile ofNapoleon III on the other side.As a rule the cards wereaccurate. Taddy of Londonissued a set of Victoria Cross

heroes and also a unique set ofBoer leaders. [1] Another firmdevoted a card to GeneralChristiaan de Wet andpromised their smokers a cardin due course showing thecapture of the elusive general.This undertaking wasconveniently forgotten whenDe Wet stayed in the field untilthe very end. Kipling's warpoems, such as "TheAbsentminded Beggar", wereprinted on cigarette cards.

Events in the theatre of warwere reduced to this miniaturepanorama; you can see LordRoberts visiting the wounded,the guns at Paardeberg, officersat lunch on a Modder Riverfarm after the Battle. W. D. andH. O. Wills not only placedcards in their packets but alsosmall discs fitted with hookswith portraits of General Buller,Lord Kitchener and others; andthese discs were worn onwatch-chains. One rare South

African war set of fifty cardspublished by Smith of Glasgowwas fetching twenty pounds aset between the world wars andis worth more now. Miss M. K.Jeffreys, that great Africanacollector, purchased a numberof South African War cards forher collection during a visit toEngland many years ago. Shefound great difficulty inbuilding up her series on thissubject, however, as collectorslike to have these early cards in

their albums.

Cape Town firms came on thecigarette card scene well beforeWorld War I, as I have said.Among the pioneer efforts wasa set of jiu-jitsu cards with alocal exponent known as Osakashowing the holds. (Iremember Osaka well for hegave a demonstration at myschool). Rugby and cricketteams were popular subjects.Little pieces of lace were packed

with one brand and these werecrocheted together to formtablecloths and bedspreads.Scenes from one of the firstSouth African big-game huntingfilms were used as cigarettecards. South African places ofinterest, famous buildings,flowers and racehorses all wenton to cards. Arms and crests ofschools and universities, boyscout, guide and voortrekkerbadges and coat-of-armsformed other series. The old

Springbok series dealing withSouth African heraldry provedto be so accurate that theJohannesburg Public Librarymounted and used the cards asan official work of reference. Iunderstand that a "flags of allnations" series packed in SouthAfrica shortly before WorldWar I ranked as the longestseries issued anywhere in theworld at that time. Anotherinteresting enterprise was amap of the world printed in

sections of cigarette card size bya Johannesburg firm. Prizes ofone hundred pounds wereoffered to those who put thewhole map together. It took along time.

Study a catalogue of cigarettecard issues and you will seethat the owner of a largecollection is in possession of anillustrated encyclopaedia. Asimple device adopted nearly acentury ago to prevent

cigarettes from being crushedhas become a valuableeducational medium. Theinformation is given incondensed form; there is no"padding". Yet these cards areso authentic that they havebeen placed as evidence beforecourts of law. A famous trialinvolving the pattern of a stolenScottish tartan was settled by acigarette card. Many a researchworker, author and artist hashad reason to be grateful for

the enterprise of tobacco firms.If you need details of motor-cars or railway trains, medals ortrees, musical instruments orprehistoric animals, thecigarette card will help you.

Probably the most dramaticexample of the cigarette card asa reference work came to lightduring World War II. Playershad issued a set of modernnaval craft shortly before theoutbreak of war; and after the

war started a sudden andurgent demand came from aneutral country for these cards.Colonel C. L. Bagnall, D.S.O.,M.C., head of a great Britishcigarette card firm, becamesuspicious. He was right. Acaptured U-boat had an albumon board with the whole series.

I have several fine SouthAfrican cigarette card albums inmy library and possibly youhave them, too. They are those

excellent works on flowers,birds and history written andillustrated by experts andpublished early in World WarII. Luckily these masterpiecescame out before trade cardswere banned on account ofpaper shortage. Here you seethe cigarette card as a littlework of art; and though thecards are small the details areall there. This may be a hobbyfor children but the thousandsof collectors all over the world

include many intellectuals of allages.

Cartophilists have their ownliterature, magazines andcatalogues, their own technicaljargon, like philatelists. Theyspeak of "beauties" whenreferring to anonymous girls oncards. "Blankets" are pieces ofwool or other fabric withcoloured patterns once found inAmerican cigarette packets.Tiny rugs, leather decorations,

celluloid buttons for lapels andminiature gramophone recordshave all been presented tosmokers. "Booklets" includeEnglish-French dictionaries,calendars and sporting fixturecards. The world of thecartophilist is full ofunexpected discoveries. Thosewho changed their brands ofcigarettes often enough found astereoscopic card one day, a"pop-out" or cut-out the next,cards with a figure that stands

up. "Secret marks" are rare incartophily but some of theWills cards have them as marksof identification. (There havebeen forgeries; for exampleHignett's early series ofactresses, so rare that theyfetched thirty pounds a set.)Collectors speak of "retiredcards" when they are dealingwith sets that have beenwithdrawn for some reason, asa result of errors orobjectionable subject matter.

How much are cigarette cardsworth? Certainly they are not inthe same class as postagestamps though the rarities arevaluable. Colonel Bagnall,founder of the CartophilicSociety of Great Britain, hadfourteen million cards in hishouse, insured for thousands ofpounds. Some of his sixthousand sets were worthsixpence, others sixty pounds.Wills ordered a set of fifty cardsdealing with the life of King

Edward VII. That unhappymonarch was shown in uniformas a midshipman in 1912, as anofficer on the Western Front inWorld War I and so on.

He abdicated before the set wasissued but a few sets reachedcollectors and these now fetchhuge prices. A recent cataloguein my library gives the prices ofmany series issued in SouthAfrica. Wix of London andJohannesburg put out a cinema

cavalcade now valued at fivepounds a set, while their "age ofpower and wonder" seriesfetches the same amount.Lambert and Butler printed aRhodesian series more thanforty years ago that fetches tenshillings and their Rhodesianfauna of the same period bringsin five shillings more. Franklyn,Davey of Bristol issued a birdseries years ago that is regardedas one of the most beautifulsets in the world. Those birds

seldom come on the market buta set was sold a long time agofor sixty pounds. Fred Bason,author of the pioneer work oncartophily, owner at one time oftwo million cards, estimatedthat an Ogden set of sixthousand cards (all different)issued in 1900 had risen invalue to one thousand pounds.[2] Only one complete set wasknown to collectors. Anotherrarity is the set of twenty-fiveJohn Player cards showing

dogs' heads painted by ArthurWardle; they were withdrawnfor some unknown reason andare almost unobtainable.Condition is important, ofcourse, for a bent card is like apostage-stamp lackingperforations. Cards must beclean and unfaded.

More than three thousandseries of cigarette cards havebeen issued since the firstVictorian lovelies appeared.

With the aid of these cards youcould start a garden, followScott to the South Pole, studythe "Punch" cartoons of WorldWar I, learn the history oftobacco pipes, keep fit, makejam and carry out first aid.Cigarette cards reveal theuniverse of space craft and theworld of our great-grandfathers.They were first produced forpeople who had never been tothe cinema; indeed there weremany in those days who could

light a cigarette but could notread. As I have said, thecigarette card seldomapproaches the value of a rarepostage-stamp but many rightlyclaim that the intelligent seriesof cards are more interestingand informative than a set ofstamps.

It is a poor man's hobby. Mycatalogue shows that he canbuy a whole set for a couple ofshillings and fill a gap for a

penny. I do not know what abeer mat or a matchbox costsbut I think the cigarette cardenthusiast is a more sensibletype of collector. Let us notforget those other trade cards,found in packets of sweets andcocoa, tea and soap, that aresnapped up by cartophilists andlisted in the catalogues. Suchcards are usually large enoughto give the artist orphotographer more scope forhis skill than the tobacco

issues. A number of bilingualseries have been issued inSouth Africa by a tea firm.Subjects include African wildlife and pets. The same firmdesigned a set of fifty cardsdealing with motoring historyand this is said to be the finesteffort of its kind publishedsince the war. All the naturalcolours of the cards have beenpreserved and the insignia ofeach maker is given. When youlook through an album of

cigarette and trade cards it maybe as well to start without apatronising smile. You maylearn something.

Picture postcards first appearedin South Africa at about thesame period as the earlycigarette cards. Plain postcardswere on sale at the GeneralPost Office in Cape Town as farback as 1878 and eleven yearslater the Chartered Companyissued postcards in

Mashonaland. But the postcardboom came with the SouthAfrican War, with portraits ofthe generals and pictures of thedefence of Ladysmith andMafeking. Collectors made ahobby of filling albums withcards on their favouritesubjects; and people who wereincapable of writing anintelligent letter summoned upsufficient energy to address apostcard and jot down thefamous words: "Wish you were

here."

Mr Frank Bradlow, the Africanacollector and author, has atheory that the demand for themodern postcard arose in CapeTown as a result of illustratednotepaper and envelopesdecorated with Cape scenes anddesigned by none other thanthe great Thomas Bowler.Subjects included St. George'sStreet and Table Bay and theywere in use during the

eighteen-forties. It was notuntil the eighteen-nineties thatthe true postcard becamepopular in Britain andelsewhere.

Among the South Africanpostcard pioneers was T. D.Ravenscroft, who travelled overthe Cape railway system in theeighteen-eighties takingpublicity photographs. I have inmy collection a colouredpostcard of Saldanha Bay by

Ravenscroft showing a greenhillside, red-roofed houses andblue water. No doubt this wasprinted overseas by someprocess which I cannot identify.(Ravenscroft continued inbusiness until his death atHermanus in 1948 at the age ofninety six; he was then theoldest professionalphotographer in the world.) Thebrothers Joe and David Barnettof Johannesburg and CapeTown were early camera men

who produced historic SouthAfrican postcards towards theend of last century. In the fieldof art R. O. Fusslein deserveshonourable mention for hepublished that amusing seriesby Heinrich Egersdorfer called"Sketches of South AfricanLife". The clever lithographicartist Egersdorfer worked forthe "South African IllustratedNews" (printed by SaulSolomon) and recorded CapeTown scenes at a time when

most photographers kept totheir studios. His postcardsreveal life in the country, mailcoach adventures, huntingepisodes and animal life. Nearlyalways there are touches ofgenuine humour. I like hisscene outside a wayside hotelwhile the mail coach horses arebeing changed. A cocky littleimmigrant is trying to impressan Afrikaner girl in kappie andflowing skirt while thestorekeeper gesticulates outside

the bar and passengers taketheir tea on the stoep.Egersdorfer painted all thefamous Cape Town spectacles,the Parade sales, the arrival ofthe mail boat, newsboys,Malays and convicts buildingthe Hout Bay road. He was aprolific artist, a pictorial journalist who carried on theBowler tradition in his ownstyle. Sydney Carter, thedistinguished painter whoexhibited at the Royal Academy

(and painted BlaauwbergStrand village when I owned acottage there) was another finepostcard artist. I understandthat the most valuable SouthAfrican postcards are thoseprinted in Ladysmith during thesiege and smuggled out throughthe Boer lines by nativerunners. Other war postcardshave VRI overprints on OrangeFree State cards; and there aresimilar overprints on TransvaalRepublic cards found in

Pretoria during the Britishoccupation. Picture postcards ofSouth African battle scenes bythe American artist R. CatonWoodville are prized bycollectors.

The golden age of the postcardcoincided with the progress ofmotoring and aviation. Searchyour attic for early cars,aeroplanes and steam trains foryou may have cards worthseveral pounds apiece. Then

there are the cards made of thinivory sent out by an Indianpotentate; collectors seldomcome across those costly prizes.Open an old postcard albumand you turn the clock back. Itmay hold anything from apopular song of yesterday to azeppelin; memories of the 'goodold days". Here is a blue cardwith a moonlight effect; overthe page is an ugly publicbuilding tricked out like apalace with the aid of tinsel.

One firm placed a card on themarket enabling lovers to sendkisses by post. You could alsobuy "squeaker" cards and"smellie" cards; press the rightspot and you heard a sound orbreathed in perfume. Birds oncertain cards were decked outin real feathers while prettygirls had genuine human hair.

Emblems of luck and loveadorn a million cards. Traveland postcards go together, like

love and marriage. The greatpostcard mania has ended butthe traveller still buys apostcard to show his loved onesthat he has not forgotten them;and possibly to arouse envy inhis friends. As a rule thepostcard message is brief andsimple, but one of thoseirritating microscopic writerssucceeded in writing more thantwenty thousand words on onecard with a steel pen .

South Africa has never had aDonald McGill, the postcardking who played for the bellylaugh and drew on timid vicarsand English seaside landladiesfor his characters. I have a fewof the "Cape Town types" series,painted about the time ofUnion, in which an anonymousartist lampooned the familiarcharacters of his day; but thejoke-card is noticeably absentin South Africa. Perhaps we donot want our self-esteem

punctured; or possibly ourseaside folklore does not lenditself to McGill's heartycaricatures or the none toosubtle double-entendre. Thenearest approach, I think, is theSouth African classic depictinga thirsty, shabby customer in abar at that happy period wheneveryone poured his ownmeasure. The barman is gazinganxiously at the glass andsaying: "Gashle, colonel!"

Some of the finest camerastudies on postcards were thoseof Mrs Caleb Keen. She foundmarvellous characters amongthe Cape Malays. More thansixty years ago the CentralNews Agency published apostcard series of Cape Townscenes in colour. I have one ofthe flower-sellers in AdderleyStreet with a row of hansom-cabs in the middle of thethoroughfare.[3] It is dated bythe clothes, the cloth-caps and

the buildings. Publishing firmsdestroyed thousands ofobsolete cards in those daysand employed itinerantphotographers to keep in touchwith progress all over thecountry. Thus a great deal ofvaluable Africana went up insmoke. My own favouriteseries, forgotten now by all savea few, was commissioned byStephan Brothers to drawattention to their "West Coastwatering place - lovely

Langebaan". There is the old,isolated village; the whalingstation at Salamander Bay withthe prefabricated houses HansEllefsen brought from Iceland.There, too, is the S.S. BurtonPort alongside Ellefsen's clipperhulk Emily Faithfull; the littlecoaster Burton Port thatvanished without trace duringWorld War I. These cardsemphasise the value of thepostcard as historical material.Places change out of all

recognition but if the postcardshave captured them they aresafe. You can follow the growthof a village all through thiscentury; the women withEdwardian hats and trailingdresses, the men wearing tightand ridiculous clothes thatreappear after many decades.More serious postcardcollectors preserve theirmemories of places in this way;the postcard album is as vividas a cinema film. They have not

only the background but the lifeof the place over a long period.Buildings that have beendestroyed rise from the dust.Art collectors also find thepostcard useful for there cannotbe a gallery in the world thatdoes not place its treasures onpostcards. You can buyreproductions of water-coloursby J. W. George and EdithStruben, oils by Thomas Bainesand Claes Rietschoof, and theseinteresting pictures are to be

found in the Africana Museum,Johannesburg.

Fusslein's series of animalpostcards form part of theSouth African Library postcardcollection. Egersdorfer was theartist, and his waterbuck andflamingoes are memorable. Heshowed a blue wildebeesattacked by hyenas, a watchfulleopard waiting in a tree and azebra mare edging her foalaway from a puffadder. "Zebras

still roam in large herds overthe vast plains of South Africain the less inhabited parts," thiscard informs us. My collectionof South West Africanpostcards may have some valuenow. They were printedsuperbly in Germany before1914, some in full colour. Thesescenes transport me to theTeutonic buildings ofSwakopmund, the diamonddeserts, forts and castles withthe black, white and red flag of

the Kaiser's domains flying overthem. Here are bygone soldiersin slouch hats, troops oncamels, Herero prisoners-of-war, Captain Hendrik Witbooiand his staff, early motor-carslike steam-rollers, all the wildanimals. You could illustrate ahistory of South West Africawith these fine cards.

Many important Cape Townevents during this century wererecorded on postcards. The

pageant of 1910 lives again. AClifton panorama shows the oldhotel but few other buildings.Tuck's coloured South Africanflower series (printed in Berlin)are accurate enough for abotanical text-book.Reproductions of South Africanpostage stamps appear on somecards and there is a fineembossed card depicting thegold and silver Kruger coins. AGerman card takes us back tothe days when ox-wagons

moved up the Wilhelmstrassein Windhoek. I have a cardshowing the police station,post-office and births anddeaths registration office atConstantia in the year 1908.This pleasant rural scene incolour reveals a quieterConstantia than the suburb oftoday. The police sergeant is inthe garden with two childrenwhile his wife and baby in armsare framed in the doorway.Evidently no criminals are

expected. A non-Europeanpostman is propping his bicycleagainst the wall of the littlesingle-storeyed cottage. I neverdrive through Constantianowadays without trying toidentify the old building.

Christmas cards were allimported into South Africauntil the Pretoria firm ofSchweickerdt commissionedSouth African artists to painttypical scenery in Christmas

card form. The Schweickerdtswere dealing in paintings as farback as 1902 and theyencouraged both PieterWenning and Pierneef toexhibit their work on thepremises. Among the noveltiesI must give pride of place to thegenuine silver leaf postcardsdevised by the Maskew Millerfirm. These cards have travelledall over the world by thethousand carrying the uniqueand beautiful Cape emblem.

Others copied the idea withlucky beans and variousbotanical oddities but the silverleaf still reigns supreme.

1 Chapter note 1: R. F. K.,writing in "Africana Notes andNews" in 1951, valued the seriesof 125 Boer War V.C.s at £100and described it as "among thehighest-priced cartophilicgems". A. J. Woolley, a latercontributor to the same journal,stated that the first South

African cigarette cards wereissued between 1884 and 1890.The Ace Cigarette Co. openedits Three Castles factory inJohannesburg in 1894 in abuilding designed like a castlewith turrets. Acme issued a"Soldiers of the World" seriesand also organised a "freesweep" with money prizes.

2 Chapter note 2: I found a copyof Fred Bason's rare handbookin the British Museum library

recently. Bason had written onthe title page: "This is the lastcopy I possess and I amunlikely to get another copy.With its going there ends a pageof my life that was very happy."

3 Chapter note 3: Mrs SusanFerreira, who died in 1970 atthe age of 62, was a flower-seller for half a century. Manyphotographs were taken of herwith her tub of flowers on theGrand Parade, and some of

these pictures appeared onchocolate boxes and postcards.

Chapter Ten - TramcarFarewell

May there never come a day,

Be it ever yet so far,

When a child shall go to hisDad and say,

As a youngster might in hiscurious way,

What was a trolley car?"

ROBERT S. WILSON

It was in a country tea-gardenoutside Cape Town that I cameupon a tram-car that had beenpart of my life. One of theOranjezicht single-deckertrolley cars that clanged andgroaned up the hill from myschool in Orange Street to myhome in Belvedere Avenue. [1]When I saw the tram again,serving as a sort of summer-house for tea drinkers, I also

saw the motorman.

I have reason to rememberhim, for the man who took mehome from school year afteryear was a Tristan da Cunhaislander. His name was JohnHagan, a large fair man ofAmerican descent with blueeyes and a blond moustache. Icame to know him better whenI was a young reporter, for thenewspaper sent me to Tristanand Hagan was on board the

man-o' war, going to see his oldmother. Hagan had left theisland during a lean period atthe end of last century and hadjoined the tramways in 1902after war service. It seemed anunusual occupation for a manfrom a lonely island, where thelargest vehicle was a tinybullock-cart. However, thetough young Hagan became anexpert driver. He stood on theopen platform handling thecontrols in all weathers; the

man from Tristan survived thewind, sun, dust and rain,working a ten-hour day andearning every penny of his sixshillings a day. (They paid outin gold sovereigns at that time.)He endured a seventy-hourweek and thoroughly enjoyedhis one day off a month on fullpay. When his salary was raisedto a princely three pounds tenshillings he felt wealthy. Haganbought his own goggles,London policeman's cape, top

boots. The horse-trams hadonly recently disappeared andthe electric trams were thefastest things on the road.Power came from the tramwaycompany's own plant. Therewere times when the systemwas overloaded and it tookHagan half an hour to urge thelittle Oranjezicht tram up thehill. Oil lamps were blown outby the southeaster. On levelroutes the trams hauled trailersand the trailers often jumped

the points and were derailed.Then the passengers got outand helped to push the car onto the rails.

Guards on the trams walkedround a precarious outsideplatform collecting fares. Seatsran across the width of the carand passengers assisted bypassing coins, tickets andchange. Canvas curtains werelet down in wet weather but theprotection was incomplete. The

four-wheeled cars on the runsfrom the city to Wynberg, SeaPoint and Oranjezicht werenicknamed "bucking bronchos"for they jumped in alarmingfashion. Just after the SouthAfrican War there was so muchunemployment that attorneys,architects and otherprofessional men were glad tofind posts as tramwaymotormen and conductors.

Before the tramlines were laid

the Cape Peninsula was servedby passenger wagons. Theystarted outside Mr GeorgeWoodgate's shop in Burg Streetas far back as 1801 and they ranto Simonstown. Three decadeslater an omnibus drawn bythree horses was put on theHeerengracht-Wynberg run.Tramlines were provided on theSea Point, Gardens and TollGate routes in the eighteen-sixties and the horse-tram eraopened. They were still in use

almost at the end of the centuryso that there are still a few veryold Capetonians who canremember the double- andsingle-decker horse-drawn cars.Thomas Bowler showed themin his "Pictorial Album of CapeTown" published in 1865, withletterpress by W. R. Thomson.There was a view of thePresbyterian Church inSomerset Road and Thomsonwrote: "The most conspicuousobject in the immediate

foreground is one of thecomfortable and commodiouscars of the Cape Town andGreen Point TramwayCompany. The company wasformed and commencedoperations about four yearsago, its object being to providesafer and quicker transport topassengers between Cape Townand Sea Point than was offeredby the old lumbering anduncomfortable omnibuses thenon the road. Tram rails were

ordered from England and laidunder the supervision of MrBisset, C.E. from Long Street toa terminus near Sir WilliamHodges' residence about threeand a half miles from town. Thewell-built and handsomely-fitted cars were constructed inthe Colony."

The tramway offices were in theY.M.C.A. building in LongStreet. The company wished toset up a town terminus at a

property owned by a Mr Bigleyin Longmarket Street; butgreedy Bigley opened his mouthtoo wide when he asked forthree thousand pounds. Thedeal was called off andeveryone went to the Y.M.C.A.to catch the tram. Stables werebuilt in Sea Point, hence thename Tramway Road. Mr F. J.B. Langerman, a tramwaycompany director who was ajudge of horseflesh, selectedfour dozen of the finest horses

the Melcks and Girds and otherfarmers could provide. Tenmiles an hour was the topspeed at that period; a speedonly exceeded by the firebrigade or a doctor racing to apatient. However, the tramwaydrivers were allowed to travelfast when handling the "SpecialExpress" to and from Sea Point.This was a single-decker eightwheeler tram that ran at lunchtime and other rush hours. Foryears the driver was an expert

known as Fatty Adams, acoloured man who drove thefour best horses standing up onhis platform like a charioteer.The express went the wholeway at the gallop save when apassenger neared his residence;then Fatty slowed down a littleand the man jumped off. (Therewere no women in business andolder men avoided the express.)Wepenaar was another driverknown to all Sea Pointers.Paddy Gale, a famous guard,

organised a band which heconducted when off duty; andlater he became landlord of theLangham in Long Street.

These early tramcars oftenslipped off the rails as theflanged wheels did not gripfirmly. Cars nearly always cameoff when turning into SomersetRoad but the red-capped driverswith their grey uniforms soonrestored the service. The gaugewas four feet eight and a half

inches. Cars held twenty sittinginside and twelve standing. Thecompany transported morethan one hundred and twentythousand passengers in 1865,only four or five years after thefirst horse tramways came intooperation in England. The fareto Sea Point was sixpence,children half price and amonthly ticket cost one pound.There were six trams each wayon weekdays, five on Saturdays.It was possible to hire an extra

car in Long Street or Sea Pointfor one pound and a smaller carwas available for ten shillings.After nine at night the companycharged double, but largeparties found it moreeconomical to hire a tramcarthan a fleet of cabs.

Another company called CityTramways operated fromDarling Street to Toll Gate. Thissmall concern had to build abridge over the Castle moat

before the line could be opened.A bell rang at Toll Gate beforethe tram started. The opentrams on this route werenicknamed "toast-racks" andtwo lines of passengers sat backto back. Water-trams were usedfor laying the dust. Directorsand their friends enjoyed awonderful outing when thehorse-tram route to theGardens was opened in theeighteen-eighties. Anotherexcursion took place not long

afterwards when a tram-carbuilt in Cape Town was placedon the new line. It was a teakcar with brightly polishedframework, comfortableupholstery and "spaciousaccommodation above andbelow". Only the iron wheelsand springs were imported. Itcost one hundred and seventyfive pounds, a saving of onehundred pounds compared withan imported car. However, thedirectors spent some of the

money entertaining guests tolunch at the InternationalHotel, terminus of the line.Rails were laid to Mowbray inthe early eighteen-nineties.Cape Town clung to the horse-trams.

Meanwhile a self-propelledsteam tram, followed by batteryoperated tramcars, appeared inKimberley and these marvelswere watched with interest bythe Cape Town tramway

directors. I became a "juicefan", as the Americans say, veryearly this century when I rodefrom Market Square,Kimberley, toAlexandersfontein seven milesaway by electric tram. This wasthe first electric tramway inAfrica and some claim that itwas the first in the world.However, I have an idea thatthe German line near Berlin(1881) and the line atRichmond, Virginia, U.S.A.

(1887) were earlier ventures.Alexandersfontein was styledan hotel and I lived there withmy parents. It was really a sortof country club run by De Beersfor its prestige value; and theelectric tramway formed part ofthis luxurious picture.

Cape Town sold its horse-tramsto a Paarl company and inAugust 1896 the first electrictram-cars were placed on therails. The ten new cars, built in

Philadelphia, U.S.A., had costabout one thousand poundsapiece. Adderley Street wasdecorated. Trams covered withflags moved in line ahead to thecorner of Darling Street andthere Mr J. W. Attwell themayor and other officialsstepped on board. A long battlehad ended. Many people fearedthat Cape Town's population ofsixty thousand would be indanger. Would the brakes stopa tramcar at once? They were

assured that every wheel couldbe locked by the brake and themotor reversed "so that therewas more control over a cargoing eight or even ten miles anhour by the new electricalsystem than with the horse-drawn cars going at six miles anhour".

So the Cape Parliament decidedto allow the electric tramcars tooperate in Adderley Street andelsewhere but the limit was

fixed at seven miles an hour.Drivers and guards had to bespecially trained and licensed.Each car had to be equippedwith five incandescent lampsand the lines had to be carefullymaintained and repaired. Afinal protest was made in theHouse of Assembly by afarmers' representative whopointed out that the farmerswere making two hundredthousand pounds a year by thesale of forage. Electric

tramways did not consumeforage and certain farmerswould be ruined. He sat downamid shouts of "Rubbish!" Inquiet Paarl, however,opponents of horse-trams wonthe day and the company founditself with a number of uselesscars on its hands.

Cape Town crowds watched theopening ceremony with mixedfeelings. One old man from thecountry was heard to say:

"Good heavens, these English -using lightning instead ofhorses. God will punish us allfor looking on." The first carwas supposed to smash a bottleof champagne suspended acrossthe track by coloured ribbons.As the car touched the ribbonsthe bottle swung neatly into thelap of Lady Sivewright, aprivileged spectator seatedamong the mighty. Thechampagne then squirted intothe street among jeers and

shouts of regret. Travellers inthe cars had a pleasant journeyto Mowbray. At every streetcorner there were crowdswaiting to cheer the electriccavalcade. "The amazementdepicted on the faces of theinhabitants of Woodstock, whoturned out in numbers to watchthe progress of the horselesstrams, was amusing to watch,"one reporter wrote. Some criticshad expected horses tostampede when the trams

approached but not a singlehorse appeared to notice theelectric monsters. At theMowbray terminus the carsreversed and returned to town"against a very cold wind". Theguests were revived at asplendid lunch in the OperaHouse restaurant.

Soon after the opening came ademand for lower fares. "At thebest the journey is a tediousone," wrote a grumbler. "The

man or woman who would rideto Woodstock, that gehenna ofwindstorms and dust insummer, more often than isabsolutely necessary shouldtake a single ticket to RobbenIsland."

One day in 1900 a freighterentered Table Bay Docks withfour tramcars lashed across herdecks. They had been speciallybuilt for the Camps Bay line,which was opened the following

year. They went over Kloof Nekwith their carbon arc lampsablaze, sending the baboonsscuttling back into the forest.When these cars slipped on therails during the long descentthe driver dropped sand to helpthe wheels to grip. Once therewas panic among thepassengers when a car slippedbadly while nearing a sharpturn with a drop beside thetrack. The sand device failedand the car jerked on.

Fortunately sand had blownacross the rails from a houseunder construction and so thedriver was able to regaincontrol. They always supplied abox of fine sifted sand whichcould not block the pipes afterthat ordeal.

As the years passed thetramway lines stretched out toWynberg. The round trip fromSea Point to Wynberg and backlasted three hours. John Hagan,

my friend from Tristan, becamea dispatcher between the worldwars. During his career as adriver he had carried fourhundred passengers a day; thetotal ran into millions. Haganspoke the tramway lingo;passengers were "clients",inspectors were "sharks" andold fashioned tram-cars were"brakes". He saw the firsttrolley bus arrive in Cape Townin 1933, but the rail tram-carshad not yet passed out. That

pioneer trolley-bus made aremarkable journey. It wasbuilt in Johannesburg and theheight was beyond the capacityof the railways. So a road tripwas planned, the longestoverland journey everundertaken by a trolley-bus. MrFred Woodward, who organisedthe trek, coupled the tram to apowerful motor-lorry. Heloaded the tram with four tonsof sleepers to reduce the heightso that it could pass through

subways. Four hundred gallonsof petrol and one hundredgallons of water were carried.Long detours were made toavoid dangerous mountainpasses. The lorry and trolley-bus measured one hundred feetin length. Rainstorms lashedthe vehicles, the men weregrilled in the Karoo andbetween Prince Albert Road andLaingsburg they sank into deepmud. Nevertheless they reachedToll Gate ten days after leaving

Johannesburg. In March 1934the trolley-bus was placed onthe Gardens route.

Cape Town said farewell to theold tram-cars early in 1939, asad time for all those whopreferred rails to rubber tyres.Twelve drivers who felt theywere too old to learn new tricksretired with the trams. Haganremained on duty as dispatcherbut he never drove a tracklesstram. Souvenir tickets were

issued for the last tramwaytrips between Adderley Streetand Sea Point. There werewreaths and placards. "R.I.P. -Fading Away - Faithful to theEnd." They had fought arearguard action against the'buses and lost. No longerwould they rumble pastfamiliar terraces and shops orgroan round the loops. Peoplewatched those tram-cars sadly,as though they were losing oldfriends. And the passengers

rode with aching hearts for thelast time. Nostalgia spread fromAdderley Street to TramwayRoad. There were some whoremembered the horse-carsbeing put out of business byelectricity; now the electricpower remained but thetramcar was disappearing.

Johannesburg held on to itstramways for years after sleepyold Cape Town had gone over totrolley-'buses. They were

running horse-trams inJohannesburg for a decade afterCape Town had switched toelectric cars. Johannesburg,crisscrossed by tramlines, hadtwo hundred electric tram-carsin the heyday of the service. Sothose addicts who missed thetrams of Cape Town renewedtheir youth in Johannesburg,where the screeching streetcarsand "Kadallies" lingered likeghosts.

I doubt very much whetherSouth Africa ever had a tram-car like the "Desire" madefamous by Tennessee Williamsor the odd cars used in theUnited States for specialpurposes. There were blackfuneral cars, sombre yetelegant, with a broad windowdisplaying the coffin. Tram-carsleepers ran between Americancities, fitted out withupholstered cabins andarmchairs, lavatories and

running water.

What happens to South Africa'sold tram-cars? One historic carof the Rhodes era has gone intothe Kimberley mine museum.Others serve in honourableretirement as artists' studios,cubicles at seaside resorts,playrooms for children,bungalows in remote places,roadside stalls, diners andhamburger stands. One oldwooden tram-car was towed

from Cape Town by mules andcame to rest on the slopesabove Miller's Point. PeggyMorris described the furnishingof the tram-car with cretonnecurtains, a paraffin-box setteeand camp stretchers.Unfortunately it was invaded bycobras, puff adders andskaapstekers. Baboons visitedthe site and helped themselvesto vegetables. A horse-tram waspreserved in a Cape Towntimber yard for many years and

in 1929 it was still there. Atram-car lover wrote to thenewspapers suggesting that thisinteresting relic should be givento the South African Museum.Kleinbaai in the Cape becamethe last resting place of anumber of old electric tramcarsnot so long ago. An enterprisingimmigrant bought plots roundthe bay and sold a bright tram-body with each plot. Dieselbuses are making a hell of thecities where the silent trolley-

cars once plied, but out on theveld and in obscure meadowsthe tram-cars live again.

1 Chapter note 1: Trolley-car isthe American term for tram-car.A long, spring-mounted poleheld a round, grooved wheel(the trolley) against theoverhead wire.

Chapter Eleven - TheVanishing Tattoo

Professor Labouchere lookedmost unlike a university manand I doubt very much whetherLabouchere was his real name.However, there he was in ashop doorway close to DockRoad, the name above him ingolden letters, the blazingemblems of his trade filling thewindow. He gave theimpression of a man who would

be in Cape Town for a month ortwo before departing for someother distant seaport. Theprofessor was a tattoo artist."Do not give your body into thehands of bodgers" was hisslogan.

I entered his parlour withoutthe slightest intention ofemerging some time later witha dancing girl on my forearm ora full-rigger on my chest. I wasa journalist on duty. The

professor, who obviously knewthe value of publicity, invitedme into his operating theatreand showed me his books ofdesigns. South Africans anxiousto proclaim the land of theirbirth could go out into theworld carrying a prancingspringbok, a silver leaf, an ox-wagon with team or a picture ofthe Union Buildings. Afeminine client might beoffered proteas, ericas or daintybutterflies; and with great

delicacy, I am sure, ProfessorLabouchere would indicate theright spots for such adornment.He turned page after dazzlingpage and I noted some of thewords, letters, numbers andpictures ranging in theprofessor's index from anchorto zoo. "In memory of my palJack" lingered in my mind.

"I've tattooed almost every partof the body from scalp to toe,"Labou-chere claimed. "Strange

ideas some people have, but ofcourse it's not my place toargue with them. I ask noquestions. Men usually choosethe arms or chest. A young chapcoming in for the first time willprobably have a heart with'Mom' on it. I sell more of thosethan anything else. Seamen likemermaids or lighthouses or thenames of their girl friends or amemorial stone, perhaps, withthe name of a shipmate lost atsea. Sentimental chaps, they

are, and it gives them a sort ofsatisfaction."

This, I felt, was not the fullexplanation of the psychologyof tattooing. I went into thatlater, but not with the help ofProfessor Labouchere. "Does ithurt much?" I inquired.

"Depends a lot on the man whodoes the job," the professoranswered with signs of pride."Nowadays some people like tohave a local anaesthetic but I

can work for half an hour withmy electric needle without theclient even moaning. I startedforty years ago using a handinstrument like a pen-holderwith needles set into it. We hadsoot or ink for a blue-blackdesign in those days and brick-dust for red colouring. Thoseare still the popular shades butI've got thirty colours now. Itwas slow work in the old daysand if you pressed heavily onthe needles the client's skin

might not heal for a couple ofweeks. Then someone inventeda clockwork needle that saved alot of time. Now we have awhole set of electric needles, asingle needle for sketching theoutline of the design, a bunchof needles for each colour. I cangive you a snake round yourwrist in a couple of hours - theelectric needle vibrates so fastthat it rides beautifully over theflesh. No more than a tickle, Iassure you. But if you wanted

the sinking of the Titanic onyour back - well, that wouldtake a couple of weeks."Professor Labouchere gazed atme speculatively but I shookmy head. He was unaware ofthe fact that I had dodgedinoculations all my life withgreat success, even in the army.

"You're not ambitious,"declared the professor severely."King George V now, he had awonderful dragon tattooed on

his left arm when he was inJapan as a midshipman. KingFrederik IX of Denmark - he'sgot a fine art gallery on hischest and arms. Lady RandolphChurchill was tattooed. Andwhat do you think Monty haddone on his arm? A butterfly.Can you imagine a fieldmarshal with a butterfly?" It sohappened that I could. I askedProfessor Labouchere about thetruly great designs in thetattooists' range; not silly little

butterflies or flowers butsomething on the same scale asRembrandt's "Night Watch".The professor almost went intoa trance; then he looked up intriumph.

"I've never seen it but I knowit's true and I'd tackle it myselfif someone came along andordered it," he asserted. "I'mthinking now of the fox and thehounds. Lord Charles Beresfordhad it - the admiral who was a

great friend of King Edward VII.Of course it was done in Japan.I've got to admit that some ofthose Tokyo tattoo artists dovery refined work. Anyway, thefox and hounds cover the wholeof a man's back and they go onbelow the waistline. You see theriders in scarlet, the horses, thedogs, all in full cry and inglorious colours. You don't seethe fox - only the brush. The foxis taking cover, you understand,and he's only got one place to

go. That's a really great tattooand very rare, very rare. Costs abit of money, the fox and thehounds, but the man who ownsthat scene can be proud of it."

I felt that at last I had almostglimpsed a masterpiece evenmore spectacular than theTitanic disaster. ProfessorLabouchere assured me thatone design often led to anotheruntil it was hard to find a barepatch on the body of a true

enthusiast. He knew one manwho had a hinge tattooed atevery joint of his body. Lionswere popular, he said, withsnakes next and dogs third. Hewas often asked to do a carrierpigeon with a message.Shamrocks, thistles andAmerican eagles were part ofthe tattoo artist's bread andbutter. Seamen would go to atattoo artist in every port andadd the name of the place to thelists on their bodies. This

reminded me of the travellerwith suitcases plastered withlabels. Of course the globe-trotting tattoo addict comes toresemble an art gallery with awide variety of paintings indifferent styles, some morepleasing than others.

Women often ask a tattooist forbeauty spots, their own initialsand false eyelashes. One ladywith a number of admirers hadtheir names tattooed on her

arms. A pale girl asked for adelicate blush on her cheeks.Married women sometimesorder a ring for the properfinger. They favour the smallerdesigns, a necklace or abracelet; the "all-over" isusually encountered only inshow business. Some of youmay remember the World WarI song that went to the tune of"My Home in Tennessee":

I paid a lot to see

The tattooed Scotch lady

Tattooed from head to knee

She was a sight to see.

Nevertheless the floral garteron one leg is far more common.The pansy is the flower instrong demand, the romanticflower of memory and hope. Itwas customary towards the endof last century for members ofvarious trades to carryappropriate tattoo marks. A

carpenter would have a plane, amason a trowel and a locksmitha key. A man leading a horsewas a carter while a groompreferred a horse's head.Butchers wore ox-heads andgunsmiths had pistols. A jockeywas shown on horseback whilea miner had a pickaxe. Soldiersliked bugles, shoemakers hadboots and a musician displayeda neat lyre. There was a longperiod when many a navalseaman carried Lord Nelson on

his chest. Other patriots likedto have a bulldog or a UnionJack; and in a well-knownmedical museum there is ahuge St. George and the Dragontaken from a man's back. Oneenthusiastic sportsman had historso covered with pheasants,grouse, sporting dogs andshotguns. Gamblers go in fordice and cards. GeorgeBurchett, the celebratedLondon tattoo artist, theMichelangelo of the trade,

covered his wife in pleasingdesigns. He turned a BritishArmy major into a zebra andsent many an Australian awaywith kangaroos andboomerangs all over his body."It's a bit of romance Isuppose," Burchett oftenremarked. "Gives a fellow akind of atmosphere and makeshim different from otherpeople. A lovely job, tattooing. Iran away to sea as a boy with atattoo outfit and made a pint of

money. The world's your oysterin this trade."

Burchett proved this statementin 1910, when a South Africandiamond magnate took such afancy to his work that heinvited him to visitJohannesburg at his expense.There Burchett tattooed hiswealthy client from neck to toe;reproductions of famouspaintings were among thesubjects selected. Soon

afterwards Burchett sent for hiswife and family and theyremained in South Africa forthree years. Burchett'smasterpiece during this periodwas a portrait of PresidentKruger on a bald head. Burchettrevelled in facial tattooing; hewould tint a client'scomplexion, shade the eyes andlips, whiten a red nose anddisguise scars. Jacobus vanDuyn, the criminal whodescribed himself as "the worst

man in the world", bore someof Burchett's designs. Burchettclaimed that a British armyofficer escaped from savages inMatabeleland because of thefearsome dragons Burchett hadtattooed on his chest and back.Burchett also tattooed a dragonon a South African criminal andthe man was identified by thisdesign in Australia andarrested.

Tattoo marks played an

important part in the classicTichborne case. The real SirRoger Tichborne was nottattooed whereas the impostor,Thomas Castro, had a scarredforearm from which tattoomarks had been removed.Criminologists have pointedout that tattooing has a limitedvalue as a means ofidentification as several peoplemay carry identical designs. Insome countries the police haveasked surgeons and tattoo

artists to report people whocome to them for erasures.

Cape Town people first becameaware of the art of tattooingwhen the American whalersbegan calling at Table Bay earlylast century. The tough crewshad previously visited Japan,where the tattooists hadpricked delicate patterns likedecorations on silk. Proudly thewhaler men revealed theirJapanese dragons (supposed to

keep evil away), their fans andferocious animals. Oldnewspapers describe theshowmen who came along laterwith tattooed dwarfs, fat ladiesembroidered with frogs andfreaks with bright tapestries. Iread a description of a circusstrong man who had an eagleacross his shoulders. Thetattooist had made such cleveruse of the contours of the bodythat the eagle appeared to bebeating its wings when the

strong man flexed his muscles.

My next informant was amedical specialist with navalexperience. I still wanted toknow why intelligent peopleallowed themselves to bemutilated by tattoo artists."Quite a lot of them have hadtoo much to drink," said thedoctor bluntly. "During the war,I remember, some British bluejackets had been having adrunken argument with an

American seaman in an Easternseaport. He called the Britishseamen 'Limeys'. When theAmerican woke up nextmorning he found aninscription tattooed on hischest: 'Rule Britannia'."

Tattooing, went on my medicalfriend, went back a long way.Egyptian mummies dating backto 2000 B.C. bear tattoo marks.Africa is tattooed from end toend. Cave paintings show that

primitive man was tattooed.Livingstone noted that thetattoo marks of the Matambweepeople resembled the drawingsof the ancient Egyptians; wavylines used as symbols for waterand trees and gardens enclosedin squares. Seamen used to betattooed so that they could beidentified and given Christianburial if they were drowned andflung ashore. There is, however,an alternative explanation ofthe huge and detailed

Crucifixion scene chosen bymany British naval seamen lastcentury; this was tattooed ontheir backs and was theirtraditional defence against thebrutal floggings of that era. Inlater years, of course, tattooinghas been discouraged orforbidden in naval trainingships. When a seaman is oldenough to decide for himself hemay have a gorgeous bird or afive pound note tattooed just toprove that he has grown up.

Tradition has a lot to do with it.Comparatively few men in theRoyal Air Force are tattooed,whereas soldiers have alwaysbeen tattoo clients. LordRoberts instructed officersgoing to the South African Warto have some tattoo work doneso that they could be identifiedif they were killed in action.That was a period whentattooing was tremendouslypopular.

Criminals were and still areextremely fond of tattoo marks.This queer taste is naturally ofgreat assistance to the policebut the criminal never seems torealise it. He enjoys having adotted line tattooed round hisneck with the words: "Cuthere". He finds pleasure incarrying a picture of guillotineor gallows on his back. Yearsago tattooing was a prisonhobby in many countries; ithelped to pass the time. Of

course the designs were notalways aimed at thereformation of the criminal andrevenge was often the motif."Death to the police." Malassen,a French murderer of the lastcentury, was covered withtattoo marks. "I made a badstart - I shall make a bad end,"his chest proclaimed. Hebecame official executioner in aFrench penal colony. Criminalsseldom blame themselves fortheir misfortunes. Among the

favourite sentiments of prisontattooists are these: "No luckfor me." "Born under an evilstar." "Life's a fraud." Oneprisoner, evidently blessed witha Walter Mitty complex, hadhimself tattooed in thecomplete uniform of a general.A humorist chose this slogan:"Long Live France and friedpotatoes."

Can tattoo marks be removedeffectively? It is easy enough to

cover a bygone girl friend'sname with a peacock but therestoration of the skin to itsprevious blankness is anothermatter. Some pigments fadenaturally but designs carriedout with gunpowder andcharcoal cannot be erased.Ordinary surgery leaves a scar.My friend the doctor said that askin graft was one solution ofthe problem. He repeated alegend often told by seafaringmen of a sailor who fell in love

with a native girl in someremote tattooed community.The men of the tribe wouldaccept the sailor only if hewould be tattooed like theothers; and this involved facialmarkings. The sailor agreed andclaimed his girl with blue waveson his cheeks and a large blueshark across his forehead.Months or years afterwards avisiting ship from his homeport brought news that madethe sailor long to return to

civilisation. He asked themedicine man to remove thetattoo marks and the processwas carried out with apparentsuccess. Only faint linesremained where the designshad been pricked in. The sailordeparted, leaving his girl with ayoung child. She seemed tothink he would return one dayand so he did - with the tattoomarks as vivid as ever they hadbeen, shark and all. It is a storythat is told from East Africa to

New Zealand, wherever theancient art of tattooing ispractised. Laser beams are nowbeing employed to explode thetattoo dyes out of the skin. Thiscauses a minimum of pain andscarring. Like ordinary light thebeam passes almostunobstructed through thetransparent skin, hits thecoloured dye particles and charsand crusts the tattoo.Sandpapering and acids havebeen tried but these methods

are useless. Bleaches affect thecolour of the skin. "Most peoplecurse the day they committedthis folly," summed up thedoctor. "What must a manthink when he views the backsof his hands over the years andsees a girl's head and the words'True Love'?"

It was clear that the doctor wasstrongly opposed to tattooingexcept for medical purposes.The code letter of a blood group

might be useful. Now and againa client asks the tattooist toplace on his hide a notificationto doctors of his allergies andserum sensitivities. Certaintypes of birthmarks can becamouflaged by tattooing.Doctors prefer the term"pigment injection". They donot wish to be confused withProfessor Labouchere and hisdancing girls.

"Professor Lebouchere assuredme that one design often led toanother until it was hard to finda bare patch on the body of atrue enthusiast"

Yes, the tattooing of thecommercial sort is folly. I canunderstand some of themotives but there are manyfacets of tattooing psychologythat elude me. African warriorswho carry their battle honourson their thighs are merely

observing an old tribal custom,like the head-hunters whotattoo a souvenir for eachvictim. But I have known menof education who have givenway to this primitive impulse.Lombroso, the Italiananthropologist, classifiedlunatics as harmless ordangerous according to thetattoo marks they bore. Dr C. J.Poison, barrister and professorof forensic medicine, has listeda number of motives: the clan

spirit, amorous feelings(including a portrait of theloved one), filial piety(tombstones and graves). Buthe places adornment as theleading influence and mentionssome of the artistic designs hehas seen; for example, abeautiful flight of birds on awoman's shoulders and thighs.

Charles Darwin the naturalistdeclared that the man whoallowed himself to be tattooed

was of the type that drew rudepictures on walls. Professor R.S. Post of Wisconsin, a morerecent observer, has said thatmany tattooed people areexhibitionists; their motives,known or subconscious, aresexual. Some tattoo marks, hefound, were badges ofidentification and he quoted theprocurer who displayed aneagle carrying off a girl.

Tattoo, the origin of this

expressive word, is a mystery.Probably it comes from theDutch word taptoe (also foundin Afrikaans) meaning to beatthe tattoo when the canteensclosed. The "tat tat tat" of theprofessor's implementsreminded someone of the drumbeats. It is strange to find theword tatau (meaning "tomark") in the Tahitianlanguage. Tattooing istraditional in the Pacificislands. Primitive tattooists use

the same methods all over theworld, suggesting that theancient custom is derived fromthe same original source.Africans specialise in gashing,tattooing by cuts and leavingraised cicatrices. Cuts on thecheeks are often coloured redand blue. Tattooing of the chinis so widespread thatanthropologists think theremust have been prehistoricintercourse between the twohemispheres. Tribesmen use

flakes of quartz, thorns, theteeth of sharks. Captain JamesCook remarked two centuriesago: "The universality oftattooing is a curious subjectfor speculation."

Indeed it is. Tattooing did notreach Europe as a fashion untillast century. Now it is said to bevanishing. The art is in decline.Even an adolescent realises thatthe surest way of coming tohate someone is to have their

name tattooed on his body. Nolonger do seamen believe thattattooing is a defence againstextremes of climate, diseaseand insect bites. Tattooed mapsare all very well for a treasurehunt and a novelist mayimagine a last will andtestament tattooed on ashipwrecked mariner's back.But in real life the gay andlicentious tattoo is vanishinglike the fox in the famousdesign.

Chapter Twelve -Chamber Of Horrors

The poster outside the shop inCastle Street announced "SouthAfrica's Greatest WaxworksShow and Chamber of Horrors".I was soon disillusioned. Thetouch of genius that madeMadame Tussaud world famouswas missing. This was a shoddyfraud; yet I have reason toremember the experience, butnot because of the waxworks.

The proprietor was a glib andquickwitted little fellow of thetype encountered onfairgrounds; and having takenthe admission money he wasobviously anxious to hustle hispatrons on into the Chamber ofHorrors - for an additionalshilling, of course. Indeed therewas nothing to hold theonlookers spellbound in theouter room. He had an unlikelyPresident Kruger there, a"sleeping beauty" without the

slightest appeal, an unflatteringGeneral Louis Botha and analmost libellous Smuts.Evidently these figures hadbeen made a long time ago andhad suffered during theirtravels on the road. In thisouter room one did not rubshoulders with history. I wasaware only of the fact that somepeople have strange ways ofmaking a living.

The proprietor glanced at his

watch. "In exactly five minutes'time you will hear a lecture by aretired prison warder in theChamber of Horrors," heinformed the crowd. "Thiswarder has worked in all thewell-known gaols of SouthAfrica from the old BreakwaterPrison to the Pretoria Central.He has known most of themurderers of his time and theofficial hangmen. For oneshilling extra you can listen toMister Gerber and ask him

questions - a treat you willnever forget. This way pleaseladies and gentlemen."

I paid eagerly and I thinkeveryone else joined the queueand entered the Chamber ofHorrors. Here again thestandard of modelling leftmuch to be desired and eventhe morbid curiosity of thecrowd must have suffered ashock. The coils of rope on thewalls, each one with its sinister

noose, might or might not havebeen used to hang the criminalsnamed on the labels. Thegallows scene appeared to havebeen knocked together by acarpenter who had never seen agallows in his life; and the littlegroup under the beam, theexecutioner, chaplain, wardersand condemned man on thedrop, all looked as battered andweary as the "sleeping beauty"outside. Bloodstained axes andknives failed to convince

anyone that they had cut intohuman flesh. Portraits ofpoisoners and stranglersappeared almost respectable. Inthis ghoul's playground, I felt,one might spend the dark hourswithout fear of the wax figurescoming to life at midnight.

All now depended on Gerber.He came in wearing a whitecoat, like a laboratory assistant,mounted the steps andaddressed us from the gallows

platform. The pale face that hadmade thousands of convictsshiver was lined with worry; hemight have been due forhanging within the next fewminutes. I imagine, however,that a retired warder is notunduly prosperous and he mayhave had money troubles. Hewas a large man and I picturedhim swinging the cat-o'-ninetails that decorated one of thewalls.

"He came in wearing a whitecoat, like a laboratory assistant,mounted the steps andaddressed us from the gallowsplatform"

"There is a mistaken idea thatwomen don't often get hangedin South Africa," Gerber began,his menacing eyes roving overthe faces below him and restingfor a second or two (so itseemed) on likely femininelisteners. "Make no mistake,

many women have been hangedand I've got them all here in mybook. I also have accounts ofsome executions that werebungled, horribly bungled. Thatwas in the old days, of course.Don't be alarmed. Nothing likethat happens now."

The audience sighed with reliefand Gerber opened his book.He was no great lecturer but hissubject was so compelling thateveryone strained to hear every

word. Gerber started with a girlnamed Flora Kleinfeldt whohad murdered "youngThackwray" (probably a child)at Grahamstown and had beenhanged in public. Next on hislist was a coloured woman whohad murdered her husband atGraaff-Reinet; she was cutdown moaning and waving herarms and had to be hangedagain. As a contrast, Gerberdescribed the execution of twoHottentot soldiers, Meyer and

Windvogel, at Grahamstown.No bungling on that occasion.They knelt on their coffins andthe firing squad avenged thedeath of Ensign Crowe. Gerbermentioned an unhappy episodein which four natives and aHottentot were hangedsimultaneously from the samegallows. The beam broke and allthe men fell to the ground andlay begging for mercy.Carpenters worked for nearlyan hour and the doomed five

were hanged again successfully.

In reply to questions Gerbergave dates and other details.His grim case book was filledwith notes and newspapercuttings and when I checkedthe information later I found ahigh degree of accuracy.Cradock, went on Gerber, wasthe scene of an execution atwhich the hangman adjustedthe noose with so little skillthat it almost slipped over the

condemned man's head. Thevictim suffered for a long time.All went well at Graaff-Reinetwhen Rabie and MrsLiebenberg were taken out onan ox-wagon to the place ofexecution about a mile from thevillage. They were accompaniedby the ministers Murray andVan Lingen and a largeassembly sang hymns at thegallows. "The condemned manand woman met death quietlyand were buried by their

friends," said Gerber. "But therewas a painful scene atWorcester when a nativenamed Toontje was hanged.The rope broke and they had tofind a strong riem before theexecution could be carried out."

Gerber had a cutting from the"Cape Chronicle" about aGriqua named Andries Appelswho had murdered MrsRussouw at Fauresmith. Therope was too short to reach the

man's neck and even when hestood on his coffin it was stilltoo short. Dr Niebe, the helpfuldistrict surgeon, then went tothe aid of the hangman andasked the co-operative Appelsto stand on his toes. With aneffort the noose was hauledround the man's neck. He hungfrom the gallows for half anhour and the doctor then gave afree anatomy lesson bydissecting the body in front ofthe crowd. According to the

newspapers this was aharrowing spectacle and friendsof Appels were offended.

Another unpleasant scene wasreported at the execution of the"hoary-headed murderer" Hansde Lange in Pietermaritzburg.One newspaper said it was"perfect butchery". Gerber readan extract from the "CapeArgus" suggesting that friendsof De Lange had taken the bodyaway and resuscitated him. By

sheer chance I came across adocument that gave the wholetruth of this extraordinarystory. Hans de Lange, agedseventy, was a farmer in theKlip River district of Natalduring the eighteen-sixties. Inthat wild era there were manymurders with natives as thevictims and the murderersoften went unpunished.Captain G. A. Lucas, aBirkenhead survivor, wasappointed magistrate of

Ladysmith at this period and hemade it known that in future hewould hunt down and punishany man, white or black, whocommitted murder. De Langeshot a native dead and Lucasrode to the farm and arrestedhim. De Lange was a patriarchwith a fine record as a warriorin voortrekker days; ahandsome man with a snowwhite beard over his chest. Hehad drunk hard for many yearsand the Ladysmith gaol doctor

allowed him one or two bottlesof Hollands gin a day. At thetrial half the jury wereAfrikaners. De Lange wasconvicted and sentenced todeath. Lucas asked for a troopof Cape Mounted Rifles to besent to Ladysmith as there wererumours of an attempt torescue De Lange. A deputationvisited the governor of Nataland offered a wagonload ofsovereigns for a reprieve butthe governor refused.

The scaffold was built about aquarter of a mile from the gaol.Captain Lucas warned thesheriff that De Lange was a veryheavy man, so that thehangman should not give him along drop. Next morning atseven o'clock the officer incharge of the Cape MountedRifles found that even afterswallowing a glass of brandy hewas unable to carry out hisduties. Captain Lucas then tookcharge of the proceedings.

Lucas ordered the troops toload with ball cartridge andwent into the gaol. He was verymuch upset himself. Then thesheriff and the halfcastehangman entered the cell. DeLange's eyes blazed when hesaw the hangman and he said:"You blackguard, so you havecome to hang your father."Lucas offered to take De Langeto the gallows in his trap butthe old man preferred to walk.At the gallows Lucas again told

the sheriff that too much drophad been given but thehangman took no notice. Lucasmounted his horse. Elders ofthe Dutch Reformed Churchwent on to the platform andconsoled De Lange. The boltwas drawn and, as Lucas feared,the rope broke.

Lucas dismounted, went underthe scaffold and held the oldman in his arms until he hadrecovered from the shock. De

Lauge opened his eyes at lastand asked: "Must it be doneover again?" Lucas said it must."You are still kind to me,"declared De Lange. "Would youdo me a last favour? Come onthe scaffold with me and holdmy hand to the last." Lucasconsented. The second hangingwas effective. But the bunglingat the first attempt aroused thefeelings of the people ofLadysmith and both the sheriffand the hangman had to take

refuge in another district. DeLange was not revived, but hisbody was taken away by friendsand the rumour arose soonafterwards.

After this research of my own Ireturn to Gerber and hislecture. He told us that whenKlaas Davids, a Hottentot ofeighteen, was hanged in frontof the gaol in KingWilliamstown there were onethousand people present. All

the prisoners were brought outunder guard to watch theexecution. The hangman, awhite man, had blacked his faceas a disguise. He was sonervous that he nearly brokedown during the preparations,but death was instantaneous.Then there was a less efficientexecution at Durban when twonatives were placed on the dropat once. One of the ropes broke.The other native placed a footon each side of the drop and

had to be forced down. At aGrahamstown execution thedistrict surgeon complainedthat the rope was too thick, butthe hangman disagreed. HansAndries, the condemned man,struggled for seven minutesafter the drop. His neck was notbroken. In the eighteen-seventies, when executionswere no longer held in public,the "Burgersdorp Gazette"reported that a murderer hadbeen cut down before he was

dead and resisted attempts toplace him in a coffin. Thehangman demanded a newwarrant before he wouldconsent to hang the man again.Officials argued for hours. Thenit was found that the man haddied. A hangman at Winburgdiscovered that one of fourBasutos he had hanged was notdead so the noose was adjustedfor a second time. "Theexecutioner pulled the man'slegs to make sure," reported the

"Cape Argus". A macabre notewas struck by a Pretoriaexecutioner towards the end oflast century. This official didnot wish to be recognised so heappeared in the condemned cellwearing a Father Christmasmask.

Gerber evidently decided thathe had wrung our withers tothe full extent. He informed uswith a bright smile: "I shall nowrelate the true stories of a

number of men and one womanwho cheated the gallows." Firstof this fortunate list was anative who had been sentencedto death at Burghersdorp in themiddle of last century for themurder of a man named VanDyk. Judge Menzies, whopresided, was not feeling welland failed to sign the records.He died in his carriage on theway to Colesberg and so thedeath penalty could not beinflicted. The native was

awarded a life sentence.

During the governorship of SirGeorge Grey a Bushmanwoman was sentenced to deathat Worcester for murdering herchild of four by holding himunder water. A petition failed.The coffin was made, thegallows were set up, thehangman arrived. On the daybefore the execution the deputysheriff and the hangmanquarrelled; as a result the

hangman saddled his horse androde away. Next morning theproblem became even morecomplicated when it was foundthat the death cell was empty.They recaptured the Bushmanwoman in the mountains eightdays later and she was sent tothe House of Correction. Someyears later she was released.

A native at Wodehouse wassentenced to death by MrJustice Watermeyer for a

murder in the Stormberg. Theprosecution depended almostentirely on one eyewitness andthe jury accepted this evidence.Soon after the trial ended fourmembers of the juryapproached the judge andinformed him that they haddiscussed the case with theeyewitness and he haddisclosed certain facts whichhad not come out in evidence.If they had been aware of thesefacts during the trial they would

have brought in a verdict ofculpable homicide, not murder.The death sentence wascommuted.

Gerber next quoted a statementby a minister of religion whovisited a condemned Hottentotnamed Jantjie in a remoteKaroo village. The ministerentered the cell just afterJantjie had been informed bythe sheriff that he was to behanged within a few days.

"I was locked up with himalone, as usual, in a cellmeasuring ten feet by four andI sat in a chair at the foot of thebed," reported the minister."Jantjie, who had been calmduring previous visits, nowrolled his eyes, ground histeeth, clenched his fists andstruck the air." The warder saidthat Jantjie was shamming butthe district surgeon was called.He tested Jantjie by sticking apenknife into his cheek. Jantjie

took no notice but went onraving. They had no strait-jacket in the gaol so they placedhim in a muid sack andfastened it round his neck.Jantjie went on wriggling. "Onthe morning of the execution itwas found to be utterlyimpossible to carry out thesentence and Jantjie wasreprieved," concluded theminister's report.

Gerber informed us that it

would be impossible nowadaysto escape the hangman byrolling the eyes and gnashingthe teeth. We believed him. Onthat note the lecture ended andwe left the Chamber of Horrorswondering how on earth Jantjiehad succeeded in making itutterly impossible to carry outthe sentence.

Chapter Thirteen - ASwan In The Window

The swan like the soul of thepoet,

By the dull world is illunderstood.

HEINE

Down came the great bird witharched neck and curving wings,shining like strong whitemoonlight against the black

curtains. I was not prepared forthis beautiful vision in aChurch Street shop window andI stopped in my tracks to stareat the swan. They say thattaxidermy is becoming a lost artbut here was the work of amaster. I was not surprised tohear a familiar Scottish accentcoming from the doorway; andthere stood my old friendJames Drury, a man I hadknown since my schooldays.Yes, I visited his workshop in

the South African Museumbefore World War I and here hewas after World War II bald,moustached and spectacled,smoking the same old pipe andenergetic as ever. The swan, headmitted, was one of hismasterpieces. He had retiredfrom his post as museumtaxidermist several yearspreviously, the post he had heldfor forty years. Now he washelping a friend who wasstarting a shop and wanted

something unusual to put inthe window. This was noproblem at all to the man whohad made lifelike Bushmen andlater preserved a coelacanth. Ioften wonder what happened tothat lovely swan.

Drury and his swan gave mesomething to think about. Idecided to investigate the birdthat "by the dull world is illunderstood". Then I wouldreturn to my friend Drury full

of questions and learn the truthabout the swans. Rather to mysurprise I discovered that thefirst swans to reach Cape Townwere black swans fromAustralia via the Dutch EastIndies. Willem de Vlaminghwas the Dutch navigator wholeft Table Bay at the end of theseventeenth century to explorethe west coast of Australia andsearch for a missing ship. DeVlamingh reported "a barren,bare, desolate region with few

fires and black naked men".Only in a river did he encounterany remarkable animals; thesewere black swans, four of whichhe brought back alive. All fourdied soon after he reachedBatavia. More specimens of thisincredible bird were captured inthe estuary named Swan Riverby De Vlamingh; but people inEurope decided they were amyth, fabulous creatures likethe blue boar or the red lionseen on inn signs. Valentyn, the

Dutch clergyman who visitedthe Cape late in theseventeenth century, went onto Batavia and published thefirst accurate description of theblack swan. He saw two livingspecimens. A plate inValentyn's book of travelshowed a Dutch ship in theSwan River with her boatscapturing swans. This arousedthe interest of naturalists inEngland; yet a century passedbefore the Dutch were able to

deliver live specimens inEurope.

Ships with black swans onboard called at Table Bay, ofcourse, and a wealthyConstantia farmer named H. O.Eksteen purchased one or moreof them. Thus people in theCape were able to stare at a birdpreviously regarded as animpossibility. It measured fortyinches from beak to tail andweighed fourteen pounds. Only

the primary and secondary wingfeathers were white; the tips ofsome body feathers werebrown; the rest of the feathersand the feet were black. Scarleteyes and bill formed a contrast.No longer were cynical peopleable to say: "An honest lawyer,a black swan." UnfortunatelyEksteen lost his black swan. Itstrayed from Bergvleit andEksteen advertised his loss inthe "Cape Town Gazette" onOctober 25, 1817, and offered a

reward. There the story of CapeTown's first swan ends for I wasunable to discover whetherEksteen found his valuable pet.It is clear, however, that theblack swan appeared in CapeTown several years before thefirst specimens reachedEngland. "Notes and Queries,"the English historical journal,puts the date at about 1820 andsays that black swans werebeing bred in England in theeighteen-thirties. These

dramatic birds have done moreto advertise Australia than thekangaroo. At one time theywere shot for food and trappedfor swansdown and feathers, sothat the black swan was indanger of extinction. Now theyare protected. A number ofblack swans have beendomesticated in South Africasince Eksteen's day and theirlight-coloured cygnets are seenwith them. In flight they utter ahigh-pitched mellow honk and

this is also heard at night. Fourblack swans were placed in theduck pond at Queen's Park Zoo,East London, a few years ago. Ihave been unable to trace thefirst mute white swans to reachSouth Africa. De Beersimported mute swans for thelake at Somerset Westdynamite factory just before theend of last century; but thesewere not the first. There is alsoa mysterious colony of wildmute swans, Cygnus olor, in

the Humansdorp district; astrange colony of unknownorigin, the only foreign birds inthe Cape to be protected byspecial proclamation. I shallgive the various theories for thepresence of this colony later.

My friend Drury told me thatthe swan in the window hadbeen found dead near the rivermouth at Milnerton andbrought to his home atMelkbosch Strand by a kindly

motorist. Drury had a privatemuseum there and all sorts ofunexpected specimens arrivedat his door. I sat with theerudite taxidermist in hisseaside workshop and listenedto his views on swans. Heworked as he talked, filling in awooden framework withshavings before covering the"manikin" with clay and sewingthe skin of a penguin over theclay to resemble the living bird."There's a lot of bluff in this

business," remarked Drury."Even the beautiful swan is notwhat it seems."

Mute white swans, declaredDrury, could be extremelydangerous, especially at nestingtime. They were fiery,treacherous as snakes,ferocious as savages. He saidthat swans had drowned youngchildren by holding them underwater; they had attacked menand broken their limbs. Dogs

were easy victims. When swanmeets swan there is a fight tothe death. This usuallyhappened when a cob, the headof a family, found its mate(known as the pen) and homemenaced by another cob.Massive wings come into playwith great swooshing noises.Necks are twined round eachother, seeking deadly leverage.The water is littered with curlyfeathers. A swan that goesdown in that conflict is

drowned. When black andwhite swans meet there is abattle royal, a lake becomes acauldron shot with blood, sharpbeaks maiming the throats ofenemies. But the females lovethese encounters, swimminground the hissing contestantswith outstretched necks inobvious delight.

I asked Drury whether themute swan was really mute. Heshook his head vigorously. They

had a trumpet call, an alarmcall, a honk of indignation andthey snorted a warning whenanyone came too close to thenest. And the death-song offolklore and fable? The swansong that has inspired writersand poets since Socrates, thefirst and last musical strainbursting forth with a richnessand power unknown before?

The silver swan who, living hadno note,

When death approached,unlocked her throat

Leaning her breast upon thereedy shore

Sang her first and last, andsang no more.

Drury said it was a pleasingmyth. Probably he was right,though in recent years severalleading naturalists have saidthat there may be a grain oftruth in the legend. One

observer claimed to have heardthe swan song. The swan hadbeen mortally wounded in theair and it came gliding slowly tothe water and began its deathsong; plaintive and musical,like the slow running of anoctave. Gunners who havewounded swans have spoken ofthe clear notes they heard.

Shakespeare referred to theswan song in his "Rape ofLucrece":

And now this pale swan in herwatery nest

Begins the sad dirge of hercertain ending.

There are other poeticalreferences to the mute swanthat did "chant sweet strainswith his dying tongue".Coleridge brought the legendinto a sardonic verse:

Swans sing before they die;'twere no bad thing

Did certain persons die beforethey sing.

Mute swans pair once only andare said to be faithful untodeath. Thus a pair may livetogether for almost half acentury, returning to the samenesting area every year,building a fresh nest of mossand turf close to the old one.Drury said he had heard of aswan still building a nest on theold site and waiting patiently

for the dead mate to return.

South Africa's only colony ofwild swans has suffered frompoaching but the raiders werebelieved to have sold the birdson account of their high value.It appears that the first pair ofwild swans was reported by anative labourer on the farmGrasmere five miles south ofHumansdorp. He had neverseen anything like these largewhite birds before; so he and

the farmer hurried to the damwhere the swans had settled.They fed the birds regularly,captured and pinioned them.(The end joints of the wingswere severed so that they wereunable to fly.) The female laidclutches of eggs, eight to adozen a year; and Mr. Meyer,the owner, gave away pairs toother farmers in the district.Some fully-grown birdsmigrated to the Kromme Riverestuary and there are now

scores of them in the area.Otters and rats, hawks, eels andturtles are their enemies.

Dr Douglas Hey, Dr D. F. Kokotand other scientists have madedetermined efforts over anumber of years to trace theorigin of the Kromme Riverswans. Dr Hey was informedthat the original pair were a giftfrom the British royal family toa farmer who had entertainedthem during their South

African tour. (Mute swans onthe Thames are owned by theCrown and cygnets are roundedup every year by the swanmaster and marked.) It was saidthat the first pair bore the royalinsignia on their bills; but DrHey was unable to confirm thisstory. Dr Kokot fixed the date ofthe arrival of the swans onMeyer's farm; they came at thetime of the 1918 influenzaepidemic. Some said they hadescaped from a ship that was

wrecked near Port Elizabeth;but I have searched the recordsin vain for a wreck at thatperiod. Others declared that theswans had escaped from a crateon the deck of a ship passingCape St. Francis. Dr Kokot alsoinvestigated a report that theswans had been brought fromEngland by a Member ofParliament. In fact, two blackswans were brought back fromAustralia by a Parliamentarydelegation in 1920 and placed

on a Graaff-Reinet farm. Theydisappeared seven years laterand were never traced. So themystery remains unsolved.

Mr H. E. Newdigate placed apair of Kromme River swans onthe Piesang River atPlettenburg Bay during thenineteen fifties and allowedthem to fly freely. An otterkilled the pen. The localauthorities then imported tworoyal swans from England. (The

freight was £90.) Both werepinioned. An otter killed one.When the survivor was placedwith the original cob theyfought like demons. One wasdriven into the bush and waskilled by an otter. The last ofthese ill-fated swans lived alonefor about five years and thenvanished. Swans are expensivedecorations in South Africa andyou never know what willhappen to them; neverthelessthey have been coming in more

freely in recent years to adornlakes and nature reserves.

Naturalists believe that swanshelp to clear certain waterschoked by weed. The effects ofthe increase and spread ofswans on local waterfowl andfarming interests, however,have still to be determined. Insemi-arid areas waterfowl arenone too plentiful; the birdshave many enemies; safe placesfor nesting and rearing the

young are hard to find. Thusthe swans might compete withindigenous wildfowl to theextent of becoming a threat.Mute swans like islands inswamps. Pairs defend theirbreeding areas vigorously.However, many scientistsregard the swan as vicioustowards other birds only insemi-artificial conditions.Swans living in the wild statehave been cleared of thecharges against them. Water

weeds, stalks, roots and buds ofaquatic plants make up theswan's normal diet. Theyseldom damage the farmer'scrops. Anglers have suggestedthat swans destroy fish eggs ona large scale but this has notbeen proved.

I have a theory of my ownabout the origin of the KrommeRiver swans. Swans aremigratory birds. They can fly byday and by night; a full-grown

cob may have a nine-footwingspan and a speed of fifty orsixty miles an hour. Mute theymay be, but in flight the wing-music is impressive as theirpinions beat the air inthrobbing rhythm. Half acentury ago, I think, a pair ofswans set out from the lake atSomerset West and found anew home in the KrommeRiver estuary. There the feralcolony arose in idealconditions; a wide estuary

where mud prawns, worms andother creatures supplied theswans with a change of diet.There and on the Seekoei river,on Groenvlei and other watersalong the Garden Route theirdescendants flourish. Long livethe swans!

Two swans flew from theSomerset West lake to theMilnerton lagoon a few yearsbefore World War II. They werecaptured and returned to the

lake, but they preferred thelagoon and soon re-appearedthere. Cygnets were hatched atMilnerton and the family wasregarded as the property ofMilnerton Estates. Two swans,possibly from Milnerton, wereoften seen near the AdderleyStreet pier at this period.

You do not have to be a KingLudwig of Bavaria (the madking who had a mania forswans and built the huge

Neuschwanstein castle) toadmire the majestic beauty ofthe swans. They come down tous with a thousand years andmore of folklore and poetry.You feel their presence in themusic of Sibelius; you see themin Tchaikovsky's ballet; youread of them in the classic fairytales. Swans are the birds ofpoets' dreams, the wild swansof songs and romance. Theyhave indeed a wide appeal,these dazzling white beauties.

One of Cape Town's firsttaverns was called "De WitteSwaen" and you do not have togo far in England to find a"White Swan Inn". No wonderdear old James Drury haltedand held me with hismasterpiece in the window.

Chapter Fourteen - TheEast In Our Midst

Al-lah! Haya il' al' Allah! Itstarted far away on the otherside of the world, the call of themuezzin, and it has reached thesouthern tip of South Africa atthe speed of the westering sun.Moslems in all the easternlands have heard it; they haveseen the flags running up onminarets in Burma and India;and as the dying sun touches

the Blue Mosque in Cairothousands bow down towardsMecca.

Allah! The cry comes souththrough Zanzibar to Cape Townand now the muezzin ischanting the evening prayer asthe Malays of this isolatedcolony have done for threecenturies. Here is the East inour midst with the language,the music and the magic of theMalay archipelago. Here are the

people, light brown andhandsome, with pleasant voicesand courteous manners. Here isthe aroma of their traditionalfoods; their homes are redolentwith masala and klappertert.All through the quarter youhear their benedictions. SalamAlaikoem! Walaikoem salam!

Some of the Malays came to theCape in chains, others weresoldiers or servants. Later therearrived Javanese chiefs who

had conspired to overthrow theDutch; leaders who hadplanned to slaughter everyChristian in the islands. Priestscame, too, including that greatmiracle worker Sheik Joseph ofMacassar, a man of royal blood.When his ship ran out of freshwater and all on board werefacing death in mid-ocean thesheik dipped his foot in the seaand ordered the crew to lowercasks. Allah! The sea water hadbecome fresh. So runs the

legend and the kramat built inhis honour at Faure is theholiest of the five Malayshrines in the Cape Peninsula.The most isolated kramatstands on Robben Island, builtwith the aid of the prison staffto commemorate Tuan AbdulRahmen Matara.

Of course the Malay languagehas almost died out in CapeTown though a number ofMalay words have been

embodied in Afrikaans. Forexample the word baie (many)is believed to have been derivedfrom the Malay banja. CapeMalays still use certain Malayphrases, such as salamat djalan(a good journey to you) andsalamat tinggal (may you restcontent). Arabic is the languageof the Koran, but not all theworshippers understand thewords read out by the priest.However, the Koran wastranslated into Afrikaans a

decade ago.

Only during the past century orso have the Malays been able togather in their mosques. Underthe Dutch rule people of creedsother than the establishedchurch were forbidden toworship in public. Slaves andothers met in rooms, stonequarries or in quiet places onTable Mountain. Thunberg, theSwedish traveller of theseventeen-seventies, attended a

New Year festival (held inJune) in a Malay house. Wallsand floor were covered withcarpets, the altar was hung withsilk and bottles served as flowervases. Frankincense, thearomatic gum resin, filled theair and there were yellow waxcandles. It was not until earlylast century, when GeneralJanssens was installed asgovernor, that the Malays weregiven permission to set upmosques; and this was

confirmed by the Britishauthorities soon afterwards.The early mosques were roomsin houses, like the old mosqueat the Long Street palms. Nowthere are dozens of buildingsspecially designed as mosquesin the Peninsula. You will findsix of them between Signal Hilland Long Street. Oldest of allthe city mosques is the Owalmosque at the corner of Dorpand Buitengracht streets; aplain building which has had

five generations of priests fromone family. Here the men kneelin rows on the red carpet facingMecca. Only during the Feast ofthe Orange Leaves (in honourof the Prophet's birthday) dothe women take part in theservice. That is the time whenthe ceiling is festooned withcoloured streamers and thewomen sit on the carpet toshred the orange leaves and dipthem in sweet oils from SaudiArabia. After the service comes

the lavish meal of spiced tea,curries and fricadels, konfytand cakes. John SchofieldMayson, who studied the CapeMalays in the middle of lastcentury, said that he found onemosque. Lady Duff Gordondescribed a Cape Town mosquein the eighteen sixties; "a largeroom like a country ballroom,with glass chandeliers, carpetedand with the crescent and theroyal arms of England". Thiswas probably the Chiappini

Street mosque.

Mayson, an intelligentobserver, said that all the CapeMalays spoke the Malaylanguage though very few ofthose he met were the childrenof Java-born parents. They werepeople of middle height,sinewy, with small andsparkling eyes and black, silkyhair. Their lozenge-shapedfaces were coloured light brownto deep olive with expressive

features. Many had peakedbeards. They wore crimsonturbans, neck scarves, gay vests,long jackets and wide trousers.That was the period of thepyramid hat, still worn bycoachmen on special occasions.Their women had good figuresand "were not devoid ofcomeliness". They wentunveiled. Fish and rice formedtheir main diet but butcherskept Malay priests in theiremploy to slaughter animals

according to Malay custom.Malays worked as shopkeepersand masons, carpenters,wagoners, tailors, cobblers,seamen, boatmen and domesticservants. They were dexterouswith horses and outstanding asfishermen. Even in those daysMayson found Malays whoowned houses and fruit shops;men who had saved thousandsof pounds. They went on joyouspicnics in gaily-painted carts;they were also fond of

cockfights and cards. Only fourMalays from Cape Town hadmade the difficult Meccapilgrimage of those days:Samondien, Miedien, Omar andGastordien (known as "CarelPilgrim"). Two large Malayschools were teaching thechildren to read the Koran inArabic.

About two decades later avisitor named E. G. Aspelingremarked: "No country on the

face of the earth is more mixedin its inhabitants than theCape". He said that Dutchofficials returning to Hollandfrom Java took male andfemale slaves with them as faras the Cape. Some were sold atthe Cape, others were set freeor sent back to the East. Pricesof slaves were high at the Cape,low in the Dutch East Indies.(Mayson gave the price of aMalay slave in Cape Town atthe end of the eighteenth

century as between £100 and£400.) Aspeling pointed outthat some free Malays attendedDutchmen of rank on visits toEurope and learnt to speakDutch. Such men oftenremained at the Cape on theirreturn and were known asMardykers. Aspelingemphasised the fact that not allmembers of the Malay colonywere slaves, exiles or criminals.Mardykers, it seems, werenamed after a village in

Amboyna noted for itsintelligent population. Theywere clever basket-makers andmasons as their descendantsare to this day.

One-fifth of Cape Town'spopulation were Malays acentury ago and thus they weremore conspicuous than they aretoday. Men wore red cottonhandkerchiefs on their headsand long "hip" waistcoats. Onlythe boys wore the Stamboul fez.

The women, neat and modest,came out on holidays in therich silks and satins they stillcarry so well. Gold pins andgold earrings were theirfavourite ornaments. Bothsexes wore the wooden sandalscalled kaparrings; but thewomen put on white satinshoes at weddings.

Hadji Manan and his wife Edna,their daughter and her cousinYakoof Manan, were sent from

Cape Town to London in theeighties of last century todemonstrate wicker andbasketwork at a colonialexhibition. Queen Victoria andthe Prince of Wales admiredtheir work and invited them toWindsor Castle. A reporterdescribed the girl as "the Mrs.Langtry of her race" with herfine teeth and eyes. QueenVictoria was interested inYakoof's kaparrings, so hemade her a pair and sent them

with his "profound obeisance".Mrs Hadji Edna Mana diedshortly before World War II,having passed the centurymark.

In the Cape Town of nearly ahundred years ago anotherwell-known Malay personalitywas Jan van Batavia, a priest,who arrived before the Dutchrule ended. He fought in theMalay Corps at the Battle ofBlaauwberg and was wounded.

Jan van Batavia became acentenarian. Most famous ofthe Malays of our own timeswas Dr Abdullah Abdurahman,a grandson of slaves who wasthe first Cape Malay to qualifyin medicine. His son-in-law, DrAbdul Hamid Gool, also becamea great personality, and notonly in the Malay Quarter. TheGools lived in Buitensingel atthe top of Long Street, once onthe outskirts of the town. Therethe doctor's mother tended a

garden filled with medicinalherbs, buchu and otherremedies. When I first calledthere to interview Dr Gool hewas still going on his roundswith a horse and trap.

No one knows why the Malayschose Bo-Kaap on themountain slopes as their ownquarter. It appears to have beena slow process. Many of theflat-roofed houses withfanlights and double-sash

windows were there in theeighteenth century, occupied bywhite artisans. Soldiers ofseveral nations, stationed at theCape in the seventeen-eighties,caused a housing shortage andso the Bo-Kaap settlementgrew. These humble homes hadgreat charm, with theircourtyards, vines andpomegranates. Only in theMalay Quarter is it possible tovisualise the Cape Town of thelate eighteenth century; not

just a surviving house but awhole street. When you glanceinto a cobbled steeg filled withwashing you move back twocenturies. An architect with aproper respect for these relicsonce declared: "It is asimportant for Cape Town tokeep the Malay Quarter as it isfor Athens to see that theParthenon still stands." This isa world of robed priests andchildren playing aaljanderspelletjie or riding in

their soap-boxes; of stoeps withend seats where the old peoplerest and gaze out over TableBay thinking of the storms andthe enormous hauls of fish longago. The hammers of thebarrow-makers are still heardwhere once such craftsmen asFrans Hillegers the silversmithtapped out splendid works ofart. There is a workshop wheremembers of a family make sixthousand fezzes a year. Theflaming scarlet fez is in great

demand, but some Moslemsprefer maroon, others black.They talk of a kofija rather thanfez and order the style theyfavour; tall or flat. After thepilgrimage a hadji wears a blacktassel. In this oriental worldyou also find the Malay tailors;sons and grandsons ofcraftsmen who made blackjackets, striped trousers andfrock coats for uncomfortableclients of the Victorian era.Their ancestors worked by

hand, taking a fortnight tomake a blue serge suit; pricefour pounds complete.

Signal Hill supplied the clay forthe sun-dried bricks used in theMalay Quarter during the earlydays. Plaster and lime washgave the walls a patina equal toa fine piece of furniture. Whaleoil and molasses kept out therain. Street after street dropsdown the hillside like the littlehomes of Madeira or Genoa or

Gibraltar. It is still possible todiscover elegant facades andhandsome old parapetsmasking the flat roofs.Atmosphere, that elusivequality, is stronger here amongthe chickens and pigeons of theMalay Quarter than in anyother corner of South Africa.

It is not only the aromas of theMalay Quarter that create thisatmosphere, the tang of apumpkin bredie or a ravishing

gestoofde snoek. There are alsothe sounds and above all themusic. When a Malay choir ison the march with a ghommaliedjie you can see the Alabamaentering Table Bay or go furtherback to the freeing of theslaves. When the guitars areheard you may think of the faroff days when Malay exiles atthe Cape sent to Java forcoconut shells and made theirtraditional stringed instrumentthe ra'king. Some were made of

teak inlaid with mother-of-pearl. The ra'king had fourstrings. It was still being playedin the quarter between the warsbut now the guitar reignssupreme and the romanticeastern ra'king has become amuseum piece. The drum orghomma used by the Malays isclearly of oriental origin; a littlecask with a skin nailed over oneend, held under the left armand struck with the palms ofboth hands. Professor P. R.

Kirby, that great South Africanmusical research worker,investigated the ghomma butwas baffled by the name. Hefound that a similar drum inIndia was called a dhol andthought that the mysteriousghomma might possibly havebeen derived from the Africanngoma.

Malay choirs were formed inthe days when slaves had to bein their homes after nine at

night. Professor I. D. du Plessis,poet, linguist and leadingauthority on the Cape Malays,found strange oriental legends,animal stories and folklore intheir songs. Fragments camefrom the East; but the Malays,hungry for new material, seizedupon old Dutch songs andcontinued singing them longafter they had been forgottenand lost in Holland. Pamphletscontaining Dutch songs wereprinted in Amsterdam early last

century and sold in Cape Town;the Malays have also preservedthese songs in their enormousrepertoires. The leader of achoir sings the melody whilehis followers join in with theend-phrases and chorus. At apicnic the Malays form a circle,link hands and move roundwhile a Dutch song is sung. Ofcourse there are also manysongs of local origin inAfrikaans. Dr du Plessis wasonce surprised to find a Malay

choir singing a student song inLatin. However, they are notwedded to a medieval Dutchpast; their moppies orhumorous (and sometimesRabelaisian) songs are oftenalmost meaningless yet topical.The words may look silly inprint but the choir brings themost absurd verse to life andhas the audience rolling on thepavement. For example:

Kyk hoe lyk die mense op 'n

Nuwejaar,

Die Nuwejaar, dis deurmekaar---

Ons gaan calypso dans

Dan gaan ons bop.

Organised choirs of Malayshave been traced back to theMalay fire-brigade I havealready mentioned. Malayswere singing ballads in thestreets three centuries ago; but

the pomplompies of lastcentury formed the firstuniformed, disciplined choirand a few songs mention themand their achievements. Themodern choirs are as smart as amilitary parade; every manflawlessly apparelled in theselected clothes; always fezzes,usually blazers with braid orwell-cut jackets and sharply-pressed flannel trousers orpossibly jerseys with theemblem of the choir. No coon

nonsense in these outfits. Theycall themselves Jonge Sentralesor Royal Coronations or RedRoses; they are as full of thepersonality of Cape Town as thebay, the mountain and thesouth-easter. Some say thechoirs are like the oldVolendam fishermen singers;but I think these Malays aretruly unique. They are theMorning Stars and Tulips, theGladioli. Their art is their own.Their music opens wide the

doors of Old Cape Town so thatyou see the torchlightprocessions of long ago.

Powers white people never had- or lost thousands of years ago- are still attributed to the CapeMalays. The stories are greatlyexaggerated and it is probablethat the legacy of magic (ororiental trickery) is fast dyingout. Nevertheless there is astrange residuum which is hardto explain. Anyone who has

watched a Khalifa performancemust have gone away mystifiedand the Khalifa is only part ofwhat has come to be known inCape Town as "Malay magic".

Local legends are as old asSheik Joseph, the priest whomade sea water drinkable.Mayson, an accurate recorder,described the flogging of aMalay for some minor offence.A priest stood beside the manand urged him: "Be steadfast!

Only believe and you willescape the pain." The whip felland the man remained unhurt.Mayson said that charms werein common use. A priest wasconvicted in the middle of lastcentury for selling charmswhich were supposed to givecriminals immunity fromdetection. Mayson also heard ofpoisons administered byMalays, poisons so subtle thatdeath might be delayed forweeks.

Our old friend Joseph de Limawas among those who gave anearly description of a Khalifadisplay. He searched for anorigin and was informed that itwas designed to celebrate thebirthday festival of SeidaAbubeker, the successor ofMahomet. Priests then deniedthat the performance had anyreligious meaning and this isthe view expressed today.Khalifa displays gripped theMalays to such an extent in the

middle of last century thatother citizens in theneighbourhood could not sleep.Every night the drums andtambourines were heard in thetown and the performancesseemed endless. Mr P. E. deRoubaix, J.P., was deputed todeal with the matter andleading Malays offered him asolid silver inkstand in the hopeof gaining his support. Hedeclined to accept the gift andwarned them that the police

would be called in if the Khalifadisturbed people in future. TheMalays then petitionedGovernor Sir George Grey,stating that they had enjoyedthe privilege of celebrating theKhalifa for a number of years.

Hadji Magiedien, a priesteducated in Mecca, agreed thatthe performances had broughtthe Moslem religion intodisrepute. He suggested thatone day a year should be set

aside for the Khalifa. Anotherpriest, Abdol Waab, in charge ofthe congregation that built theChiappini Street mosque,declared: "The playing of theKhalifa is not compulsory onthe Malays. They can do it oftheir own free will and do notcommit any sin by doing it." Anewspaper remarked bitterly:"The interminable thrum-thrumming which forms part ofthe play and the bawling of theperformers are a disgrace and a

nuisance." Mr de Roubaixfound a solution by limiting theperformances and the Sultan ofTurkey (then the spiritual headof the Cape Malays) sent him agold snuffbox set withdiamonds. Soon afterwards aspecial command performancewas organised for Prince Alfredand a spectator commented:"His Royal Highness appearedmuch pleased. The feats werehighly amusing, astonishingand not altogether unmingled

with fear of accident. Thedaring and neatness of trickerymight vie with the most expertIndian magic."

It is clear from detailedaccounts of the Khalifa acentury ago that theperformances were moresensational than any seennowadays. Mr Justice A. W.Cole watched a performance inwhich red-hot chains werehandled without the flesh being

burnt. The room was lit withcandles in silver sconces andgarlands of flowers hung on thewalls. Perfume was burning.Four young Malays marchedround the room grunting inchorus as though they were insevere pain. Other Malayssquatted on mats. Then theyoung men shouted, threwthemselves about and strippedoff their shirts. A boy enteredthe room and the young menseized him, plunged a sharp

instrument like a meat skewerthrough his tongue and led himround the spectators. One ofthe performers plunged adagger into the fleshy part ofhis own side and left the daggerthere. Another performerskewered his cheek. Moderndisplays which I witnessed weresimilar to those of last century,but much of the time wasoccupied by men who slicedtheir arms with swords withoutdrawing blood. In some

performances the eyelids werepierced and men rushed on tosword blades. Devotees had oneexplanation, only - faith inAllah!

Mr Frank Worthingtonreported another version of theKhalifa, seen in Cape Townmany years ago. He paid tenpounds. A spike with a roundedwooden head was supplied by apriest. The performer placed hishead on the edge of the

platform, put the spike in hismouth and held it upright. Thepriest then hit the wooden headthree times with a mallet, sothat the performer was pinnedthrough the cheek to theboards. The audience of Malaysroared with admiration. Thepriest then loosened the spikeand the man sauntered throughthe audience, the spikeprotruding from his cheek butwithout a drop of bloodappearing. Dunk, dunk, dunk

went the drums.

White surgeons are unable toproduce these weird effects andwould not do so if they knewthe secret. However, theyrealise that there is a rationalexplanation. Some parts of thebody are less sensitive thanothers. It is thought that certainascetics are able by longtraining of mind and body toproduce auto-anaesthesia,insensibility to pain. Incisions

made by skewers heal butremain open so that theapertures may be used againand again at each performancewithout bleeding. There wasonce a dukun in Cape Townwho put on a revolting show inwhich he was able to move oneeye far out of the socket andreplace it without damage. It isalso possible that stupefyingdrugs are used in some tricks. Amore pleasing entertainmentwas given by a dukun who

mixed three curry powders ofdifferent colours in a bowl ofwater and swallowed the blend.On request he would then blowdry curry powder of any of thethree colours out of his mouth.

The kris (or creese), a daggereither straight or curved andelaborately decorated, plays alarge part in Malay magic. "Agood kris, a good wife, a goodhouse" used to be the Malay'sprayer. Fine specimens of the

kris, possibly centuries old, aretreasured by Cape Malays. Akris with a long straight bladewas used for the execution ofcriminals and this type oftenhad a handle of ebony coveredwith flowered gold. I haveheard of a Malay dukun in CapeTown who was said to havebeen able to draw water from akris, watched by an audience ofEuropeans. Probably this was acase of collective hallucination.The dukun held the kris point

down and moved his fingers upand down the blade until dropsof water fell to the point. Beforelong the water became a trickleand filled a cup. This dukunhanded the kris round theaudience; it was so hard that noone could bend it. In the handsof the dukun, however, theblade became flexible. Heworked with bare arms andbaffled everyone present. Thedukun was also credited withthe ability to bring a kris to life,

making it rise from a table, flylike an arrow to his chest andreturn without causing harm.Then the kris wriggled like asnake and ejected blood fromthe point. "You have seen atortured soul searching for aresting place," announced thedukun. The show had adevastating effect on theaudience and one man fainted.

It is said that a dukun canquestion a sleeping person and

secure truthful answers. Whitepeople have called in a dukunto cleanse a place of an evilinfluence. Dr I D. du Plessisrecorded an amusing exampleof Malay trickery when a dukunburied eggshells with magicwords under the wicket before acricket match to ensure victoryfor the team of his choice.Certainly some queer beliefs,medicine, drugs and powerscame to the Cape with theMalays centuries ago. Magic of

the evil sort is condemned bydevout Moslems. Harmless lovepotions are still to be had atvarious prices, all equallyineffective. And the mysteriousKhalifa goes on triumphantlyfrom year to year. Al-lah! Dunk,dunk, dunk, DUNK!

Chapter Fifteen - LuxuryShop

You showed me nutmeg andnutmeg husks,

Ostrich feathers and elephanttusks,

Hundreds of tons of costly tea,

Packed in wood by theCingalee.

JOHN MASEFIELD

Between the wars there was acorner shop in Plein Streetselling all sorts of culinaryherbs and spices and rarefoodstuffs. Vincenzo Franconi,chef in charge of theparliamentary kitchen, took meover there one afternoon andintroduced me to GeorgeHenderson, the proprietor.Henderson called his place "TheLuxury Shop". To my regret itdid not last very long; therewere not so many foreigners in

Cape Town at that time and themarket for caviar and foie gras,birds' nests and truffles was notwhat it is today.

Henderson told us that he hadspent some years in Malaya as arubber planter and had becomeinterested in the easterncondiments and cuisine; hencethis rather ambitiousenterprise. He was a romantic, Ithought, gripped by thefascination of aromatic seeds,

barks and powerful roots; thosetropical flavourings that openedup some of the great traderoutes of the world. "Light inweight but heavy withadventure," Hendersonremarked, glancing round thedecorated jars and canisters onhis shelves. "The art of usingthese herbs and spices is as oldas fire. This merchandise defiesanalysis and it works on thestomach in ways unknown tomedical science."

Henderson reminded us thatCape Town was founded andthe settlement flourishedbecause of the spice trade.Holland's wealth flowed roundthe Cape in the shape of clovesfrom Amboina, cinnamon fromCeylon and the hot redcapsicums of Japan. He recalledthe great days early last centurywhen Jacob Cloete ofConstantia exchanged hismagnificent wines fortamarinds and the vanished

fish condiment known astrassie; sweet wine for nutmegand preserved bamboo. Therewas a time, said Henderson,when you could have had asheep for a pound of ginger;when peppercorns were called"grains of paradise" andcounted out berry by berry.Those were the days whenspices were used aspreservatives. Ice and modernrefrigeration cut deep into theancient trade in pickled meats,

just as modern medicine putmost of the herbalists out ofbusiness. Henderson clearlysaw himself as a man planninga revival in the exotic treasuresbrought to the Cape in theDutch East Indiamen ofcenturies ago.

However, there were otherexpensive items in Henderson'sstoreroom. Leaving his wife atthe counter he led Franconi andme into a fragrant loft over the

shop; a place stacked high withcanvas sacks and woven bales,cases of Chinese mushroomsand bamboo shoots, rose-petaljam, pomegranate syrup andother delicacies hithertounknown to Plein Streetshoppers. Henderson hadFrench sardines of a brand Ihad never seen before, let alonetasted; vintage sardines bearingthe Rodel mark; slim andelegant sardines packed in oliveoil from Provence. Franconi's

eyes glittered when he sawthose sardines. "Finest tinnedfood ever sold," Franconicommented. "Fried in olive oilas soon as they are landed -wonderful sardines." He wasalso greatly impressed byHenderson's caviar; thosesturgeon's eggs were the size ofbuckshot and they tasted dryand creamy without the fishyflavour one might expect. It wasBeluga he gave us, from ahermetically-sealed glass jar

bearing the Russian eagles.After that memorable samplewe declined the foie gras heoffered, taking the excellence ofthis Perigord goose liver forgranted. Franconi said he couldmake a marvellous TournedosRossini with that foie gras but,of course, it would have to befor a very special occasion."Food of the gods," saidHenderson proudly. "Garnishwith jelly and take a glass ofchampagne with it."

No wonder he called it "TheLuxury Shop". We inspectedpotted grouse and partridge,rillettes of pork from Touraine,smoked salmon, marinatedbear meat and octopus soup.Henderson was a pioneerindeed in this rich field. He wasyears before his time when heimported tinned Bourgognesnails, cabbage palm and thesugar plums made byPortuguese nuns; thoseluscious blue plums covered

with powdered sugar. Nearly allHenderson's delicacies wereimported: Italian macaroons,maple syrup from Vermont, teawith the Darjeeling muscatflavour, table waters from Vichyand Evian and the GermanAppolinaris with its mineralflavour. Nevertheless, theerudite George Henderson wasvoluble in praise of one SouthAfrican delicacy that heproduced, truffles from theKalahari.

"These thumb-sized, wrinkledlittle fungi from the Gordoniadistrict are as good as thetruffles that Madame dePompadour fed to Louis XV,"claimed Henderson. "I get themfrom a farmer who employs aBushman - the Bushman's dogfinds the cracks in the red earthand smells them out. A greatmystery is the truffle. You can'tgrow it, like the mushroom. Ithas a pungent aroma, so thatyou would imagine that it

would not blend with anythingelse. Yet truffles are superb incombination with other foods.They turn the homelyscrambled egg into a dish for abanquet."

Franconi nodded. "It is indeed amystery," he agreed. "I havebeen told by members ofparliament that truffles grownear acacias in the desert. Theyare all sizes, from peas tooranges. All delicious, all

indigestible, all hard to get holdof. But give me truffles and Iwill prepare a roast pullet oryoung turkey that will remindyou of one of Escoffier'smasterpieces. Or you cansprinkle a tagliatelle or risottowith thin slices of truffles andyou will understand why thesepeculiar things are called 'thediamonds of the kitchen'."

Mention of risotto remindedHenderson that he had several

varieties of rice in stock, anumber of curry powders,chutneys, Bombay ducks andthe savoury wafer biscuitscalled puppadums. The longthin Patna rice was the finestobtainable declared Henderson,but he also had Carolina rice.Then he turned to Franconiwith all due deference andasked the chef for his views oncurry.

"You can never go wrong in

South Africa if you put a goodcurry and rice on the menu atlunch-time," Franconi declared."Not too hot - just strongenough to arouse an appetite. Ilike to start it early - chicken orlamb. Curry is really a thickstew with onions, sliced apple,tomato, chutney and stock.And, of course, the currypowder. When I was in DurbanI bought my own spices at theIndian market and I used a'curry stone' to grind each item

separately. You lose somethingwhen the powder is kept in atin. What did I put in? Greenginger, coriander and cuminseeds, onions and chilli,peppercorns and turmeric,cloves of garlic, butter, coconutand lime. That's one way. Youcan add cardamon and mustard.Poppy seeds are found in manycurries. Bay leaf is also knownas curry leaf, it is used so often.Some chefs dry raw slices ofmango in the sun and grind

them to powder. The secret liesin long, slow cooking. You canuse any meat, fish or vegetablebut I prefer a prawn curry,eaten with a dessert spoon andfork."

I felt that I had heard the lastword on curry from the lips ofan authority. Henderson,however, was a curry enthusiastand he carried on theconversation. He spokewistfully of mulligatawny soup

made by a master chef inSingapore; currypuffs orsamoosas at bygone cocktailparties; and princely arrays ofside-dishes that included slicedbananas, red and green chillies,diced cucumber, curried lentilsand pickles. Henderson openeda jar of masala paste and theEast came rushing up to us.Henderson closed the jar. "Youcan have too much curry, ofcourse," he declared. "Spoils thepalate for other dishes if you

have it every day. Indians neverget tired of it but I do."

Mustard is one of thecondiments I cannot do withoutand I asked Henderson whetherhe had anything interesting inthat line. "They grew it nearCape Town last century,"remarked the well-informedHenderson, much to mysurprise. "Yes, there was afarmer named Blignaut at AgterPaarl back in the eighteen-

sixties who won a prize for hismustard at the Paarl Show."Henderson had Dijon mustardprepared with white wine;Düsseldorf mustard in ceramicpots; and a hot blend of brownand white mustard, old as theBible, from the farms ofNorfolk. But nothing fromPaarl. The mustard world is fullof trade secrets, handed downfor centuries. "Sprinkle yoursteaks and chops with mustardbefore grilling," advised

Franconi.

At my request we examined thestock of herbs and spicescarefully. Franconi was deeplyinterested for the Italians areherb cooks by tradition and inspite of his years of experiencehe was still willing to learnsomething. Henderson showedus lovely aromatic basil, one ofthe finest herbs in any garden;and Franconi told us that heused a pinch with tomato

dishes and zucchini. We gazedupon the fern-like leaves ofchervil, the French alternativeto parsley. ("Good in potatosalad" Franconi commented.)The seeds and dried leaves ofdill, I learnt, were for fishsauces. Marjoram wasFranconi's favourite forsprinkling over roast joints. Sogreat was the flavour, he said,that you could spread marjoramleaves on brown-breadsandwiches. Mint was there in

various forms, one of the mostwidely used herbs in the world;the sweet scent arose like arefreshing breeze. "What wouldlamb and green peas be withoutmint?" inquired Henderson."Mint tea for indigestion,"added Franconi. Rosemary alsoaroused the chef's enthusiasm."But you must be so carefulwith it," he warned us. "The oilfrom those flowers and leavescan spoil the taste of any meat."

Henderson's sage wasoverpowering, with a mustysmell. Yet this is a healthyflavouring, not only for stuffingbut also for pork dishes.Franconi said tarragon wasessential in the kitchen; heneeded it for Sauce Bearnaiseand Sauce Tartare and forFrench dressing. It had just atrace of the liquorice flavour.Thyme was in that class, too, anenchanted herb, essence of theFrench cuisine. "No wonder the

bees love it," remarkedHenderson. "Bay leaf andthyme for soups and stews. Andthe monks could not make theirBenedictine liqueur without it."

Franconi approved of savoryseeds; specks of savoury in asalad; peppery but excellentwhen used with restraint.Fennel, a bundle of fennelstalks, held our attention whileFranconi spoke of the aniseedflavour and the value of fennel

in cooking fish. Dutch settlersbrought fennel to the Cape longago and they scoured the winevats with it. Unfortunately itaffected the taste of the wine.Fennel is for sausages, picklesand sauces. It cures flatulenceand some optimists think itmakes fat people lean. "We arestill in debt to the ancientherbalists," Hendersondeclared. "Fennel may notrestore the eyesight. Sesamewill not cure ear noises as the

old doctors believed. Yetsynthetic medicine has not yetconquered the vegetablekingdom. Garlic remains a greatremedy for coughs and coldsand asthma. It is the secret ofgood health."

I lingered over the saffron jarand Franconi noddedsympathetically. "A railwaychef, even a parliamentary chef,dare not use much of thatstuff," he remarked sadly. "It

gives a colour and flavour suchas no other flower will provide -and it is the most expensiveitem on the whole list."Henderson agreed. "Half amillion dried stamens of thesaffron crocus are needed tomake one kilo of saffronpowder," he pointed out. "But Imuch prefer the actual pistils -these red filaments with theirwonderful aroma in cooking.Saffron costs so much that youfind imitations, forgeries on the

market. It is almost as preciousas gold dust."

"Paella, spaghetti Milanaise,saffron cake," murmuredFranconi in ecstasy.

"Tastes bitter, like iodine," saidHenderson. "Yet the rich orangecolour and the delicate flavourwhen used by an expert revealthe virtues of this ancientdiscovery." Turmeric came asan anti-climax, the driedaromatic root ground to a

brilliant yellow powder andknown in South Africa asborrie. Some say it is a tonic, adiuretic an anti-scorbutic.Certainly the Cape kitchenwould fare badly without thespice that gives a mellowfragrance to rice; the spice thatgives colour to curry powder,chutneys and pickles. Whenborrie enters your nostrils yousee the whole kaleidoscope ofthe Cape.

Nevertheless, borrie is not oneof the most important spices.Henderson placed pepper at thetop of the list, the universalspice, the main cargo at onetime on board many Dutchvessels sailing round the Cape.Once a form of wealth, itremains the master spicedemanded by mankind. Blackand white pepper come fromthe same vine but the blackpeppercorns are picked beforethey are fully ripe and are more

pungent. The white is in fargreater demand; but the epicureprefers black pepper fresh fromthe mill. Henderson spoke withexpert knowledge of JavaMuntok or Singapore Muntokpeppers, of black Lampong andTollicherry. He mentioned thepaprika (from a sweet redpepper) that gives a goulash itstypical colour and taste. Hedescribed the fiery red peppersfrom Mombasa and Zanzibar.Then he went on to the

pimento that is used in makingbiltong; the dried, groundberries that also form part ofmany sauces and pickles.

Cinnamon lured the Portugueseround the Cape to occupyCeylon, the cinnamon isle, earlyin the sixteenth century.Cinnamon took the Dutchthere, too; the old spice stillused in medicines; essential inthe bakery trade; the bark thatgave Vasco da Gama a six

thousand per cent profit at theend of one of the mostsuccessful voyages evercompleted. Have you ever smeltcinnamon buns in the oven?Here is a flavour the chemistshave never been able to equal.This is the most aromatic of allthe spices. You can liven up amilk pudding or mince pie withcinnamon. Mix groundcinnamon with sugar andspread it on hot buttered toast.Henderson had the last word.

"Stir your black coffee with astick of cinnamon and you havethe oriental touch," he advised.

Coriander comes next,neglected in some countries butnot at the Cape. The aromaticseeds flavour liqueurs andconfectionery; the fan-shapedleaves make a change if you aretired of parsley. They callcoriander "the parsley of theEast" but it has the scent oforange peel and is stronger

than parsley. All the good oldCape cookery books cry out forcoriander; in blatjang andpeach pickle, slamse wors andburiyani. Coriander goes wellwith all sorts of things, fromgin to rice pudding.

Nutmegs came up fordiscussion. Henderson told usthat on the spice islands he hadseen birds drop to the ground,overcome by the intoxicatingfumes of the nutmeg trees. "I

have some Penang nutmegshere - the finest of all," hedeclared. "Nutmegs are alwaysin demand." Franconi agreedheartily. I gathered that an eggflip was not complete without asprinkling of nutmeg. Avocadosoup, made with ripe avocados,chicken broth, cream, salt andpepper, also required the spicyundertone of nutmeg.

Henderson had ginger invarious forms; preserved in

syrup, dried ginger in Chinesechests; dark brown ginger fromSierra Leone; reddish Calicutginger; and, of course, groundJamaica ginger. "Once it was arich man's spice," saidHenderson: "Now it gives zestto all sorts of dishes in everysort of cuisine. Good for thestomach, too." Cloves, the mostpungent of spices, made theirpresence known as soon asHenderson removed a lid."Here are the unopened buds of

the most beautiful, the mostelegant, the most precious of allthe world's trees," he chantedwith a smile. Only when theCape sea route was discovereddid this great spice reachEngland. Cloves fetchedfantastic prices in those days;they were credited withmiraculous healing properties.Now they are so cheap we canstick them in baked hams, cookthem with apples or taste themduring a visit to the dentist.

Henderson gave us a glimpse ofborage leaves. "Borage tasteslike cucumber and goes wellchopped up in cream cheese -or a claret cup," he said. "Youmust have borage in a ginsling." Caraway seeds, he wenton, were useful in disguisingrank flavours; and, of course,they were essential in rye breadand certain cheeses. Fenugreek,a dried seed, gave curry itstypical aroma. Cardomomseeds, strong and cool like

eucalyptus, had to be used inmoderation. "Orientals callthem 'seeds of paradise',"Henderson declared. "You canput them in coffee for anunusual flavour - or pea soup."Franconi said the aroma ofDanish pastry was cardomom.

"Do you keep such a simpleherb as parsley?" I askedHenderson.

"Certainly not. Parsley must befresh - otherwise you lose the

iron and vitamin content. Somepeople smother their food withit but that is a mistake. It has ahigh medicinal value, it is richin Vitamin C and acts on thekidneys as a tonic."

"Parsley sauce for boiled fish - Imust have parsley," commentedFranconi. "I put parsley firstamong the herbs."

By now we had almost runthrough the whole gamut ofHenderson's stock and a jar of

horse-radish rounded off thediscussion. This piquant rootbrought from Franconi a recipeI have used ever since that daywith great satisfaction. "Mostpeople just mix the powderedhorse-radish with water,"Franconi remarked. "Mix itwith cream, wait fifteenminutes and thin it out withvinegar - then you have a chef'ssauce."

Yes, I was sorry when

Henderson had to shut up "TheLuxury Shop". He brought avision of Chinese junks andPhoenician galleys into PleinStreet. I seemed to be watchingthe adventurers of manynations setting off over thehorizon in search of roots andberries and bark to stimulateeager palates. They used thoserich cargoes not only forcooking but for perfume, forincense, for acts of worship, forembalming kings and

emperors. They burnt sweetspices to cleanse their homesafter illness; they treasured rareseeds which they invested withsupernatural powers. Rome, therich streets of Rome, reekedwith costly spices. Camelsplodded over the desert to Cairoloaded with pepper andcinnamon. Portuguesemerchants became millionairesby the standards of their erawhen they broke the grip of theMoors on the overland spice

trade and brought the preciouscargoes round the Cape. Thosewere the days when nutmegswere considered worthy ofsilver boxes and graters, finespecimens of the silversmith'sart. Peppermills were things ofbeauty compared with ourmodern cheap glass pots withbazaar salt-cellars to match.

I often wonder who moved intothe "Luxury Shop" whenHenderson departed. The

newcomers must have breathedthe lingering aromas ofHenderson's cloves andnutmegs as they filled theshelves with their less romanticmerchandise.

Chapter Sixteen -Sweets And Honey

Cape Town is the home of thosetypical sweets known as ouKaapse lekkers, the famoustammeletjies and the rest. Someof the makers of these sweetswere as full of personality astheir products were of sugar.They are still remembered; theeccentric and wealthy MissVolsteedt (nicknamed BetjeBolletjie); and that gifted

coloured woman RachaelThompson who had her shopfirst in Shortmarket Street andlater in Long Street. [1]

The business I recall vividlywas owned by Malays, a veryold house in Bree Street. Thehouse, with its pediment andfine windows, had obviouslyknown better days. One of thefront rooms had been fitted outas a shop and this offered notonly sweets but a variety of

home-made jams, fruits, atjars,Cape sauerkraut and otherpickles worthy of prizes at anagricultural show. When I firstwent there as a school boy Iwas interested only in thegolden tammeletjies and stripedbossuikers. Later on I boughthoney and other foods withflavours not to be foundelsewhere. I was also shownround the kitchen by the cookand confectioner Anna Salie.

Old Anna had several youngassistants, for this enormouskitchen supplied not only theshop but itinerant colouredmen who went round the townwith bright trays of sweets.Anna and her girls could turnout anything from attractiveslices of fish, fishcakes andmeat rissoles to pink almondrock. I suppose that when Iknew it back in the nineteen-twenties Anna's kitchen wasnot remarkable; but today you

would find such a place only ina museum or on the old Capefarms. Antique collectorsnowadays would rave over theequipment that had probablybeen in use there since theslave days. The kitchen wastwenty feet long and almost asbroad, with sash-windowsletting in plenty of light. Youlooked into an enormous openhearth where viervoet pots ofburnished copper hung fromchains. Over the fireplace was a

grid. At one side a built-inDutch oven had bakedcountless batches ofmosbolletjies. Out of that ovencame at intervals the little-known Malay dish calledsoeliemama; minced beef inballs that had been wrapped incabbage leaves and dipped indeep fat. Anna had water laidon to a large sink but the old-fashioned teak buckets withbrass hoops were still there.

Dressers and tables were solidpieces of furniture, scrubbedwhite. Meal bins, kneadingtroughs and dough boxes werein constant use. Coppercandlesticks remained on theshelves in spite of the electricglobes overhead. Kettles, tea-urns, a cucumber slicer andbutter-barrel would all havelooked well in an antique shop.I saw a brass pestle and mortarand iron trivets for hooking onto the grate with cooking

vessels. Silverware included acoffee pot, sugar basin,casserole dish, soup ladles andmarrow-spoon; probably itemsof the old Cape silver that fewpeople collected at that time.Anna never parted with hertreasures, anyway. She had ahandsome cask filled withvinegar in the kitchen. Butterwas kept in a teak vat and therewere brass-bound wooden tubsfor salted meat. I noticed acoffee-roaster shaped like a

drum with a handle. Flat ironsof copper were filled with coals.Anna carried on a war againstflies with sheets of gummedpaper; and gifbossies from theCape Flats hung from theceiling.

Dark earthenware jars,probably of Javanese origin,held spices. In kitchen and shopwere many fine crystal jars,blue or green, holding Anna'sfruit preserves. I asked Anna

about some knives ofunfamiliar design and she toldme they were boslemmers fromthe Genadendal mission; theywere really farmers' knives,useful for rough work in akitchen. Anna's tools for sweet-making were up-to-date. Shehad thermometers, marbleslates to cool syrups andcandies, hair sieves for icingsugar, pastry brushes andmoulds. Essential oils and fruitessences were set out in neat

rows under the clock with aloud tick. One day the wholeteam would be skinningpistachio nuts in boiling waterto decorate sweets andchocolates. Next time I wouldfind them preparing the pinekernels of delicate flavourbrought in by Malay boys fromthe Table Mountain slopes.These kernels have a flavourentirely their own; and makersof sweets, cakes and biscuitsfrom Cape Town to

Copenhagen depend on the tinywhite nuts. Sometimes they areprepared like salted almonds;or they may be fried in butterand served with drinks; orbaked to a golden-brown in theoven. Anna, of course, usedthem by the thousand in hersuperb tammeletjies. This, Ithink, is the king of the Capesweets; the most typical, themost popular. Some makers usedried peas as a substitute forthe dennepit; not the same

thing at all. The authentictammeletjies are made of sugar,butter and water boiled untilbrown with ginger. Then thepine kernels are added with aliberal hand and thetammeletjies are set in thefolded paper called kadoesies bythe Malays. Leipoldt found arecipe for a sweet rather similarto tammeletjies in an Italiancookery book publishedcenturies ago; however, therewere basic differences, for fruit

juices were used and honeytook the place of sugar.

Another great sweet made inAnna's kitchen was lallimala,the soft coconut ice which alsocontains rose water andcardamom seeds. Burntalmonds are another Capefavourite; cinnamon gives theflavour and a red pill suppliesthe rich colour. Brandy ballsand almond rock were othervarieties. I watched Anna

soaking dates in sherry; thenshe rolled them in fine sugarand stuffed them with nuts andraisins. Her liquorice"bootlaces" were black andspringy. She was also an expertwith Turkish delight and aciddrops shaped like fish. Capegooseberries appeared asdecorations on her fruit andmarzipan friandises. Hersherbet concoctions fizzed inthe mouth.

Jams were made in that BreeStreet kitchen during the longperiod when Cape Town hardlyever tasted an imported jam.Anna carried on the Cape jam-making tradition. Apricot washer best; the fruit was absurdlycheap at that time and therewas no need to adulterate itwith pumpkin. Factories werestill importing certain fruitpulps but Anna clung to thelocal fruits: grapes and guavas,quince and watermelon. She

also put up preserves in syrup,mebos and apricots and shemade brandied peaches andgrapes. Sugared plums andtomatoes appeared in her jarsas well as oranges, lemons andfigs. I remember especially oneambitious and pleasing effort; abottle with slices of pears andpeaches designed to resembleflowers. Her fruit salad bottleswere beautiful.

Anna was as clever with pickles

as she was with sweets andjams. She could send out a kegof snoek in curry pickle aseasily as a bottle of hard-boiledeggs in beetroot juice. Gherkinsand onions, walnuts andpeppers flowed out of Anna'skitchen according to the season.Into her atjar went not only theexpected ingredients but alsosurprises such as tiny mealiesand radishes. She carried everyone of her scores of recipes inher head for the very good

reason that she could not reador write.

Confectioners regarded honeyas their basic material longbefore refined sugar came intothe picture. Anna made greatuse of honey and the shop hada grand array of honey jars. As Ihave said, I bought severalvarieties of honey there and indue course I came to know thebeekeeper. He was the onlybeekeeper I ever met who lived

in Adderley Street.

Keith Rawlins was his name, alanky, middle-aged Australianwho had learnt the bee-keepingtechnique in the floweringeucalyptus forests down under.I never really found out why hehad started operations fromCape Town; but he said it wasbecause he found the right sortof honey-yielders within a fewmiles of Adderley Street. So heput up at the old Carlton Hotel,

bought a couple of trucks andhundreds of hives and placedthem all over the Milnerton andDurbanville countryside. Thegum trees provided a luxuriouspasture for his bees; themimosas and wattle kept thehoney flow going when theeucalyptus forests were notflowering. After the blossomshad faded he packed up andmoved by night to a new area.Of course he had problems. Hehad to use a lot of smoke when

he released his bees inunfamiliar surroundings, butthey soon became docile andbrought in the honey. Waterhad to be kept handy in drumsfor the bees were thirsty in hotweather. Bush fires sometimesmenaced his apiaries. Yet it wasan interesting occupation. Ithink Keith Rawlins wasworking his way about theworld as a beekeeper. He knewmore about bees and honeythan any other man I ever met

and I was sorry when he movedon to another country.

Rawlins had wandered overwide areas from his AdderleyStreet headquarters. No meanbotanist, he could recognisemost of the South African beeplants from the boerboom tothe bloubos to the waterbessieand dopperkiaat. He knew theprickly pear and lucerne,buckwheat and sunflower.Apple trees yielded light amber

honey of good quality but notmuch of it. He had a higherregard for oranges and plums.Bees made eagerly for loquattrees. Rawlins said heatherhoney was the finest of all."Open a pot in a warm roomand the lovely aroma can bedetected immediately," declaredRawlins. And he quoted a versefrom Robert Louis Stevenson:

From the bonny bells of heather

They brewed a drink lang-syne,

Was sweeter far than honey,

Was stronger far than wine.

However, the eucalyptus treesprovided Rawlins with most ofhis income. He showed me thepale straw honey from themellidora gum, dense andaromatic, with a strong andtypical flavour. The redflowering gum yielded a mildgolden honey, an unusual typethat could be drawn out intolong fibres. But it was the

spekboom or elephant's foot, anevergreen shrub flowering inearly summer, that provided anenormous honey flow.Beekeepers tracked the beesfrom spekboom to nests andstocked their hives. There was aCape primrose that opened inthe evening; the bees waitedand returned safely with thehoney in the dark. The weepingwillow was a good honeyproducer; and wild aloes,wisterias and peas all helped

the honey flow. Rawlins hadtasted many interesting honeysin the Cape. One that impressedhim greatly came from theProtea milliflora or suikerkanflowers; a pure white honeywith a marvellous flavour.There was also a rare ghwarriebush honey, pale and delicate.Honey varied in colour fromwhite to black and in SouthAfrica the light honeys weremost popular. Dark honeyssuch as wild aloe, buckwheat

and heather often had moredelicious flavours. Amberhoney from skilpadbessies onthe dunes was good andRawlins had tasted some withdistinct herbal flavours. "It isthe pollen that counts - not thebeauty of the flower," heinformed me. "I like the deepyellow honey from a fodderplant called sainfoin but acoffee flower yields excellenthoney without a trace of thecoffee flavour. Thyme honey

has a spiciness that cannot bemistaken. You can buy avocadohoney, clover honey, rosemaryhoney and the famoushymettus with a flavour likeroses. Once in my life I tasted asuperb honey from anunknown source. It was somemorable that I spent weekstrying to trace it to the flower. Ifailed completely. If I couldhave marketed that honey on alarge scale I would have made afortune. But a close second is

the spicy honey from grapefruitblossom."

Rawlins knew a lot aboutpoisonous honeys and he had alittle museum of rare anddangerous specimens. One wascalled noors (Afrikaans for ill-tempered) from an euphorbiathat provided the Bushmenwith arrow poison. Noorshoney burnt the mouth andthroat and was rather toocommon in some districts.

Rawlins also found the wildalmond honey unpalatable. Hesaid that some honey might bepoisonous at a certain time ofthe year and safe at other times.And he reminded me ofXenophon's army of tenthousand men who ate honeywhile on the march. Somebecame drunk, some fellinsensible and others wentmad. From the Sandveld roundabout Vredendal the rovingRawlins had gathered samples

of other bitter honeys;gannabos honey; seepgannahoney from a bush that wasonce used on farms for soap-making, and swartgannahoney. There was also abosghwarrie honey withunpleasant cathartic properties.

"Nevertheless, honey is a greatmedicine," Rawlins declared."You can treat rheumatism witha blend of honey, sulphur,cream of tartar and gum

quaiacum. Many coughmedicines contain honey.Honey and castor oil helpasthma and catarrh sufferers.You can restore the voice withhoney, lemon juice andmustard. Honey and cod liveroil form one of the best tonics.Honey is easily digested and itcan be taken by some patientswho are unable to eat anythingelse. It strengthens the heartand liver and feeds the skin andhair. Put honey on a cut and

you have an efficient antiseptic.Athletes, air pilots and deep-seadivers are advised to takehoney. Lime blossom honeyputs some nervous people tosleep as effectively as a pill.Honey is a mild laxative and adiuretic. Honey gives you anappetite but it does not causeobesity. Eucalyptus honey isthe thing for a cold. Honey isreally a concentrated foodgiving the body all that itrequires."

After this expert panegyric I felta little diffident about cross-examining Keith Rawlins. Yet Ialways have to ask for reasons."What is it that gives honeythese magic properties?" Iinquired. "We have been eatinghoney for centuries and all itsproperties have not yet beenexplained," Rawlins replied. "Itis the oldest sweet known tomankind. Bushman paintingsin South Africa, cave paintingsin Spain, show that primitive

man robbed the wild hivesthousands of years ago. Ofcourse the plant source plays alarge part in the value of thehoney; it determines the colourand flavour and quality. Honeystarts as a drop of nectar in theflower and it is transformed bythe bee into grape sugar andfruit sugar, aided by the scentedgums and oils of the plantsource. It contains iron,phosphorus, manganese, limeand sulphur; all valuable and

easily assimilable so that theyget into the bloodstream. Theprocess is so complex thatscientists cannot unravel it.Honey contains digestiveenzymes. The most convincingproof of the value of honey isgiven by the devastating effectsugar has on our systems.Foolishly we gave up honeyseveral centuries ago and tookto sugar. Now look at us! Allsorts of gastric and nervousdisorders have appeared and we

have ruined our teeth."

Rawlins told me that he couldgather fifteen tons of honey in amonth when he was workinghard; or rather when the beeswere doing their best for him.Often he had half a million beeson his trucks when he wasfollowing the honey track atnight. It was a good life, he said,a useful life; and he had nodifficulty in selling his honey.He aroused my interest in

honey, an interest that hasnever faded. Honey, you mayremember, came on the scenevery early in South Africa'srecorded story. Vasco da Gamalanded at St. Helena Bay andcaptured a Hottentot who hadbeen gathering honey. Theterrified Hottentot was takenon board ship and givenpresents of beads and othertrifles; and the Portuguesequestioned him hopefully aftershowing him spices, gold and

pearls. It was no use. He onlyknew where to find honey. LeVaillant, the epicurean Frenchtraveller, watched theHottentots making anintoxicating liquor from honeyand a root, leaving theseingredients to ferment in water.Bushmen along the Cape westcoast had their own brew,honeycombs full of young beessqueezed into lukewarm water.A plant was added to hasten thefermentation. This so-called

"bee-wine" is made to this dayin certain parts of the Cape, butnot with the full approval of thepolice. The modern recipeincludes sugar and yeast andthe potent drink is known as"Korree" or "Karie",pronounced curry.

South Africa's indigenous blackbee is a vicious creature, readyto attack and sting to death anysort of intruder. It is supposedto have flown over, presumably

by island-hopping, fromMadagascar. This is ahardworking bee producinggood honey; but the high-pitched whining hum of aswarm of black bees soundslike a deadly dynamo. Brownbees, found all over SouthAfrica, are believed to be a crossbetween the black bees and theItalian queens brought orimported by Huguenot settlers.They are large and docile, bestof the wild honey bees in the

opinion of some experts. Yellowstripes on their abdomensprovide evidence of theLigurian strain. In the Caledondistrict there are bees thatappear to have a Caucasianorigin.

Monks are great beekeepers. AtMariannhill in Natal there wasa Brother Lucian who was agreat authority on honey. Hesaid that beekeeping called for aspecial bent and those who

possessed it found a nobleemployment. Brother Lucianpreferred clean sections withbeautiful white virgin comb toany bottled honey. I think thisis the view of epicures, thoughcomb honey varies from year toyear while liquid honey iseasier to produce. Comb honeyis the natural form. Flavour andaroma suffer during theextraction process. Someproducers drop strips of combhoney into ajar of liquid honey

and this "chunk honey" looksattractive and costs a littlemore. Creamed or whippedhoney is a comparatively newform and is designed to spreadeasily. You also find blends ofhoneys; for example, orangeblossom honey is too sweet forsome palates so it is blendedwith clover. Among thearistocratic honeys are jasmine;the crystal-white rosemary,acacia and lotus.

Bees work themselves to deathgathering honey from dawn todusk and no one can explainthis useful impulse. The air liftusually covers a two-mileradius from the hive.Beekeepers arrange theircolonies in accordance with thisrange. The frenzied period maylast only for a few weeks or afew months; then the beesmust be fed on honey or honeywith sugar syrup to enable thecolony to survive until the next

rush. The flowering gums of theCape are rivalled (or surpassed)from the bees' point of view bythe pink aloes season of threemonths in the NorthernTransvaal. Cavalcades ofbeekeepers gather with theirbee millions along the Pienaar'sRiver in June, July and August.Warnings to motorists areplaced on the roads: "Please donot leave your cars. You arenow passing through the largestconcentration of beehives in

the world." The bees feed onbanana, papaw and otherblooms before and after thepink aloe season; but the pinkaloes give such generoussupplies of nectar that the beesleave everything else when thebell shaped flowers appear.Pink aloe honey is clear andpossesses wonderful keepingqualities. But the flavours ofhoney are as varied as thewines of the world; a taster likeKeith Rawlins might spend his

whole life adding to hisexperience but never knowingall the honeys.

Honey is imperishable. I haveseen in the British Museumhoney from the tombs of Egypt,honey four thousand years old.A pound of honey, so Rawlinsassured me, held the samenourishment as six pints ofmilk or thirty eggs. Only thedate has the same food value.Honey has its vintage years like

wine but never does it fail toprovide energy. Everestclimbers had tubes of honey intheir packs. Here indeed is foodin its purest form, glowing withthe sunlight of happy bygoneseasons in forests and on theveld.

1 Chapter note 1: RachaelThompson was a tiny St.Helena woman who died in1902 during the bubonic plagueepidemic. In her memoirs, "A

Dinner of Herbs", KathleenMcMagh describes the littleshop, the richly-spiced airredolent with aniseed,peppermint, the elusivefragrance of burnt almondslying brick-red under a spotlessmuslin cloth. In glass jars werebrandy balls, so treacle dark asto be almost black.

Chapter Seventeen -Mellow, Rich And Ripe

Sublime tobacco! which fromeast to west

Cheers the tar's labours or theTurkman's rest.

Divine in hookas, glorious in apipe,

When tipped with amber,mellow, rich and ripe;

Like other charmers, wooingthe caress,

More dazzlingly when daringin full dress.

Yet thy true lovers more admireby far

Thy naked beauties - give me acigar!

LORD BYRON

Before I gave up smoking many

years ago I used to buy myexpensive English cigarettes ata Cape Town tobacconist's shopmanaged by Mynheer JacobWagenaar. He had once owneda small cigar factory inAmsterdam but this had failed.So he had emigrated; and nowthis elderly man had beenserving behind the counter asan employee for years without atrace of bitterness or ill-humour.

Possibly the amiable Wagenaarfound consolation in themerchandise he sold. He wasnot a heavy smoker, heinformed me, but when he lit acigar his sense of enjoymentwas plain to see. Wagenaarknew tobacco in all its forms.He discoursed intelligently onroll tobacco and Russiancigarettes; calabash andwaboom pipes; cigars fromOudtshoorn or the Vuelta Abajoin Cuba; or the dark luxurious

snuff known in the trade asCafé Royale, combining theflavours of coffee, brandy andcream. Wagenaar could also sellyou a walking-stick with expertknowledge of chestnut and ash.I often lingered there amongthe tobacco jars and pipe-racksin that fragrant shop listeningto the wisdom of Wagenaar.The knowing specialist alwaysfascinates me (as you havealready noticed) whether hedeals in books or spices, cough

mixtures or Havanas.

Tobacco is supposed to be oneof America's gifts - or curses -to the Old World. Wagenaarwas doubtful about that.References in old manuscriptssuggest that smoking hadbecome a habit in various partsof Europe, Africa and the Eastbefore the Columbiandiscovery. Botanists have traceda tobacco species that appearsto have grown wild in the Old

World long before the Northand South American leavesreached Europe. Portugueseexplorers carried tobacco seedswith them and spread tobaccoamong African tribesmen andEastern peoples. It wasregarded as a medicine and adisinfectant in those days but itsoon became a self-indulgenthabit. Tobacco farming startedat the Cape on a small scaleduring the Van Riebeeck period.Peter Kolbe, the German

traveller, left an amusingdescription of the effects oftobacco on the Hottentots earlyin the eighteenth century: "TheHottentots, men and women,are dotingly fond of tobacco. AHottentot who is in want oftobacco and who has no othermeans to procure it willperform a hard day's work forhalf an ounce; and when hegets it, will hug it in transports;stare with a crack-brained joyon the precious reward and

laugh, caper and swagger like afellow quite out of his wits."

Tobacco was currency in thosedays. Natives used water pipeswith stone or earthen bowls. Oxor antelope horns and reeds orthe shin bones of animalsserved as pipes. Calabash is oneof the old South African pipematerials; the wood that wasused by primitive tribes as abeer container. But the shapingand polishing of a high-grade

calabash pipe is a complicatedprocess and those pipes (withmeerschaum tops) are usuallyexpensive. The waboom, onceregarded as fit only forfirewood, has also become areliable pipe material andwaboom pipes are made inWorcester. Pipes with PaulKruger bowls are the mostfamous South African pipes.President Kruger smoked onehimself and gave it to thetelegraphist at Machadodorp

when he was leaving theTransvaal for Delagoa Bay. Pipecraftsmen are rare in SouthAfrica nowadays; it is a dyingart in this age of cigarettes. Butthe pipe-smoker has alwaysbeen looked upon as the solidthinker; a symbol of thephilosopher. Van Riebeeckloved his pipe. When he sentexpeditions to trade with theHottentots they always carriedpipes and tobacco as well astrinkets.

I found a pamphlet by JamesBarry Munnik, a Cape Townsnuff manufacturer and tobaccodealer, in the South AfricanPublic Library. [1] It wasprinted in the sixties of lastcentury, when tobacco was stillheld in high esteem as amedicine. Munnik quoted apoet "P.V.R." on the subject:

Specific in alle rampen!

Pest der doodelijke dampen!

Souverein, antidotaal!

Panacé van gouden blaâren.

Munnik said in his pamphletthat tobacco was beingcultivated at Alphen andStellenberg in the Peninsulaand also at Heidelberg (Cape)and Riversdale. This tobacco,which he used in his factory,was equal to imported varieties.He gave instructions on themaking of "KaapscheBoerentabak" or roll-tobacco.

Uitenhage was turning outcigars, cheroots and cut tobaccoin the eighteen-forties. Away inthe wilds of the Cedarbergtobacco farmers were producinga strong twist that anagricultural official described as"suitable for the depraved tasteof consumers inNamaqualand". It had"excellent combustibility" and aroll weighing four poundsfetched about four shillings. Bythe time it reached Damaraland

a roll had doubled in value.

Cape Town smokers wereoffered "a cask of cherootscaptured from an enemy ship"early last century. Venables andViret of Strand Street wereselling Havana "segars" and atthe same period L. J. de Jonghof Loop Street advertised "goodCape-made segars of Americantobacco and Dutch chewingtobacco". A record cargo of halfa million Manila cigars reached

Cape Town in the eighteen-sixties and were sold by thefirm of H. and E. Suffret "at avery high rate". The Misdorpbrothers were importingVirginia leaf at this period andmaking good cigars in CapeTown. Cigars from theTransvaal and Beaufort Westwere also on the market.Smokers went to "cigar divans"in those days; smoking inpublic was considered vulgar. Adivan in Longmarket Street

invited patrons "to smoke acigar, sip coffee and read theCape and London papers whileparties who are fond of thefashionable and scientific gameof chess can also beaccommodated with lemonadeas well as coffee at a moderatecharge".

Oudtshoorn farmers weregrowing tobacco in the middleof last century but it becamethe main cash crop only after

the ostrich feather collapse.Pocock started his tobaccofactory there in the eighteen-eighties and imported cigar-makers from Holland. Thispioneer venture failed but laterefforts in the cigar field havebeen more successful.

George Findlay opened atobacco shop in Grave Street inthe middle of last century andplaced a life-sized effigy of aHighlander at the door. This

was the custom (of mysteriousorigin) in Europe and America;though most tobacconistspreferred a Red Indian, a sailorholding a clay pipe or a Turk inflowing robes. Cape Townfrowned so heavily on publicsmoking that as late as theeighteen-fifties a Mr CharlesBecker was fined for smokingin Adderley Street near theGroote Kerk during a service.Tinder boxes were certainly adanger in the days of thatch.

Nevertheless the habit spread.Cheroots arrived from Natal. J.S. Dobie, a visitor fromScotland, wrote in the eighteen-sixties: "How the people in thiscountry do smoke. It is acontinuous puff". Corn millswere being turned into snufffactories for snuffing waslooked upon as morerespectable than smoking.

Cigarettes became a familiarsight in Cape Town about a

century ago, ten years after thefirst cigarette factory hadstarted work in England.Among the Cape pioneers werethe Misdorp brothers of PleinStreet; they advertised"cigarettes, newly invented, alsomachines, paper and tobacco".Early imported brands ofcigarettes were "Star of theEast", "Golden Seal" and "UncleSam". Turkish and Russiancigarettes were sold, thecheapest at one guinea a

thousand. The "Cape Argus"received samples of "VarsityBlue" cigarettes and describedthe boxes as "works of art". In1885 this newspaper reportedthat cigarette smoking hadbecome general. A Plein Streetfirm was making cigarettesfrom the finest American andTurkish tobacco. OttoLandsberg, who you will meetlater, put "Cape Favourite"cigarettes on the market. It onlyremained for Oscar Wilde to

sum up the new fashion: "Acigarette is the perfect type of aperfect pleasure. It is exquisite,and it leaves one unsatisfied.What more can you want?"

However, my friend JacobWagenaar remained faithful tocigars all his life. He said thatsmoking a good cigar was aleisurely occupation, likeenjoying good wine. They didnot go together, of course, butcigars and wine appealed to the

same type of man, the epicure."You can ruin a glass of sherryor port with a cigar - and yet amemorable dinner is notcomplete without an after-dinner cigar," declaredWagenaar. "And remember -never inhale a cigar."

I suggested to Wagenaar thatthere was a lot of pretentiousand bogus ritual about cigarsmoking and he agreed entirely.The man who squeezed a cigar

between his fingers and made itcrackle was not really testing it;he was probably breaking it, sothat the outer leaves wouldburn unevenly. Biting the endwas a great mistake as it torethe wrapping. A proper cigarcutter or sharp knife should beused. The cigar snob held theunlit cigar under his nose andinhaled noisily with a look ofdeep expertise, but that was theway to test a wine, not a cigar.It was important to light a cigar

properly; you had to draw firstand then apply the light. Aromawas spoilt if the cigar remainedtoo long in the flame. Wagenaarsaid it was essential to keep acigar going. A re-lighted cigar, acold cigar, gave you a bittersmoke. Cigars were meant to besmoked very deliberately,without puffing. The length ofash was of no importance at all,though it did prove that thecigar had been rolled efficiently.

Wagenaar saluted those Cubancigar makers who still rolledtheir cigars by hand. He spokeaffectionately of the shades ofcigars from claro (light yellow)down the scale to the deepbrown maduro. He showed methe shapes, from the pointedperfecto to the long, thinpanatella, the thick corona, theshort breva. The mammothdark cigar he held up for me toadmire was then known as aClemenceau; now it is a

Churchill. "A great cigar isdesigned by an artist," saidWagenaar. "You must select theright leaves for fillers andwrappers using touch and smellthe whole time. The cigars mustgo into a cedar wood box tomature. Cigars are just likewine in that respect. Pack cigarsin aluminium tubes and theycannot breathe. Smoke a cigartoo soon and you know it atonce - it is like a wine drunk tooyoung."

Naturally this cigar expertplaced Havanas first but headmitted that Jamaicaproduced some good cigars. [2]"Soil and climate and hereditaryskill - that is what you need,just like wine," said Wagenaar."Jamaican cigars are full-flavoured, with excellent fillerleaf. But give me a choice and Itake Upmanns, Por Larranagas,Monte Christos, Hoyo deMontereys." Of courseWagenaar admitted that the

heyday of the cigar had passed.It is more than twenty yearssince I consulted him andnothing has happened sincethen to restore the cigar to thegreat popularity it enjoyedduring the first half of lastcentury. Cigars almost killedthe pipe and the snuff-box atone period; then the cigarettearrived, first as a rival,afterwards as a conqueror. Thecigar is a beautiful relic of thenineteenth century.

Of course the cigar trade hasnever given up hope of arevival. Advertising campaignshave suggested, very cautiously,that cigars are better for youthan cigarettes. Experimentshave been carried out recentlywith every kind of blend, shape,size, filter and flavour. Yes, theyeven tried artificial flavourssuch as rum and camphor.Wagenaar would not have beenamused. The cigar industry hasprovided some people with a

great deal more than mellowsmoke. One man covered thewalls of his room with cigar-boxlids, so that the atmosphereresembled a forest. Others havecollected cigar boxes for theirdazzling beauty; the goldmedals, portraits andlandscapes and otheradornments. Osbert Sitwell wasamong these devotees; hepraised the mulatto cupids andcornucopias of pineapples, theluscious flowers and fruit. The

bands that only a cad fails toremove also have theiradmirers. Stuck on plates ortrays and varnished, thesecummerbands of the weedmake striking displays.Designed originally to preventthe smoker from staining hisfingers, they are now proudheraldic emblems. Only a fewyears ago a film star fromJohannesburg was presentedwith a cigar band as a weddingring - and she accepted it. Dr

Jan Kromhout, chief Afrikaanslecturer at the JohannesburgCollege of Education, is theleading South African cigar-band collector. He has morethan three thousand bands inhis album, ranging from oldGerman designs with emperorsand Bismarck to later bandsfrom a Transvaal bushveld cigarfactory - rarities now becausethe factory soon closed down.

I find pleasure in allowing the

lilting cigar names to roll offmy tongue, the glamorousbrand names, Estralla andEldorado, Partaga and Cabana.Poets have seized on theromance of the cigar andadmired the smoke curlingaway like the mists of a dream.Kipling spoke of "a harem ofdusky beauties, fifty tied in astring". Kipling wrote the poemeveryone knows:

There's peace in a Laranaga,

there's calm in a Henry Clay;

But the best cigar in an hour isfinished and thrown away.

Some women enjoy the aromaof a cigar and a few smokedainty chiquitas. Most women,I think, object to the odour thatclings to curtains; the chewedcigars in ashtrays; the way menconcentrate on their cigarsrather than feminine company.Kate Carrington took theopposite view in her poem:

What is it comes through thedeepening dusk,

Something sweeter thanjasmine scent,

Sweeter than rose and violetblent,

More potent in power thanorange or musk?

The scent of a good cigar.

Horace Greeley described a

cigar as having "a fire at oneend of it and a fool at theother". Karl Marx, however,declared that he could not thinkwithout a cigar; a luxurioustaste for the founder ofrevolutionary socialism.Sibelius the composer had tohave ten cigars a day. Cubanworkmen demand free cigarsand that arrangement costs theindustry a fortune. BulwerLytton, the English novelist,declared that a cigar was as

great a comfort to a man as agood cry to a woman. So thegreat names in the cigar worldflourish: Bolivar and ManuelGarcias, Murias and Bock.

Jacob Wagenaar was only anoccasional snuffer but he hadthe same kind of sentimentalattitude towards snuff that heshowed over his cigars. "Smokeis the ghost of tobacco,"Wagenaar used to say. "Cigarsare the body. Snuff is the soul.

Nevertheless I stick to cigars."Cape Town has known thescent of snuff for centuries.Portuguese navigators handedout snuff to the natives; theDutch settlers carried onsneezing. Lieutenant JamesHolman, the blind naval officerwho rode about the Cape earlylast century, carried in his lightbaggage two canisters of snuff"as offerings of gallantry to theDutch housewives". Snuff-boxes were treasured then as

they are now so that they havebecome valuable antiques. MrJames Ingram announced inthe "Government Gazette" in1831 that he had lost a silversnuff -box bearing the head ofKing William the Third ofglorious memory. "It was stolenfrom my house and sold by thethief for five shillings to afarmer in Hottentot Square,"added Mr Ingram. "If notreturned without delay,proceedings will be taken

against the receiver."

Barry Munnik, the tobaccodealer I mentioned earlier, builtthe first steam mill for snuffmanufacture in Cape Townabout the middle of lastcentury. One of his rivals in thissecretive trade was theremarkable Otto Landsberg, aGerman who arrived in 1818with his father and threebrothers. The Landsbergs wereof royal descent and had owned

a castle in Germany. Otto wastwelve when he landed, a giftedboy who became a painter,violinist and pianist. He ownedthe Slangkop farm nearKommetjie at one time. Hissnuff factory was inGreenmarket Square. He diedin 1905 at the age of onehundred and one, leaving anestate valued at ninety-fivethousand pounds.

Snuff is supposed to be good for

you in moderation. Landsbergsaid so and Wagenaar thoughtit might be useful for treatingsome complaints; he had heardthat workers in the golden hazeof snuff-mills seldom caughtinfluenza or colds. It was astimulant, he said, not anarcotic. Medicated snuffscontain menthol and are usedfor catarrh. Snuff is adecongestant; some peopleclaim that it clears the head andsharpens the wits. Addicts say

that snuff is the final reason forthe human nose. Opponentshave denounced snuff-taking asthe dirtiest habit ever toachieve social prominence.

When I was a young reporterthere were a number ofsnuffers among the printers inthe "Cape Argus" works. Leadfumes were more noticeable atthat period than they are today.I believe miners take snuff for asimilar reason; while

longdistance truck drivers keepthemselves awake with snuff.Clergymen and schoolmastersare also said to be snuff addictsbut their reasons are moreobscure. Snuff has no social orracial limits. Zulus growtobacco round their huts, grindthe leaves to powder and usesnuff spoons carved out ofivory. Dingaan owned a famoussnuff gourd decorated by a Zuluwho had visited Cape Town. Itgave the great chief an idea of

the civilisation he had neverseen; people climbing stairs,public buildings, carriages,cavalry with swords and agrandfather clock. Mr R. C.Camp, a Cape Town snuff-boxcollector, had more than onehundred examples of nativesnuff-boxes, ranging from thecarved palm-wood Ovamboboxes to reed cylinders coveredwith beads. Other tribes usedmoth cocoons, horns andbamboo. Napoleon owned

scores of snuff-boxes and someof these came to Cape Townafter his death. Sotheby's sold asnuff-box in London someyears ago for two thousandguineas. Cape silver snuffboxesfetch high prices; the Lotterfamily made beautiful ovalboxes with gilt interiors.

Commander Maurice Green,that great Africana collector,always hoped to set eyes on anhistoric and valuable snuff-box

that played a part in a CapeLegislative Council politicalcrisis during the seventies oflast century. Members of theupper house had to possessmovable property worth twothousand pounds. The partieswere almost equal in numbersand were divided on thequestion of responsiblegovernment for the CapeColony. One vote would havesettled the matter but thequalification for membership of

the Hon. P. E. de Roubaix,M.L.C., was challenged. Acommittee valued his house,his carriage, his horses andeven his spoons and forks.These assets fell short of twothousand pounds. At thisdramatic moment, however, Mrde Roubaix produced anexquisite gold snuff-box, the lidembossed with diamonds andprecious stones, the insidecontaining scenes in miniatureof Constantinople and the

Bosphorous. It was a gift fromthe Sultan of Turkey inrecognition of De Roubaix'sservices as Consul-General forTurkey. Mr G. Boettger, ajeweller, valued the snuff-boxat three thousand pounds.Another jeweller gave evidencethat he could make a replica forabout six hundred pounds.However, the snuff-box tippedthe scale. The committeedecided in De Roubaix's favour.De Roubaix cast his vote for

responsible government. Butwhere is that glittering snuff-box now?

I called snuff-making asecretive business and indeed itis. They never show you theblending and flavouringprocesses when you visit asnuff mill; these are carried outin locked rooms, like thedistilling of famous liqueurs.There are hundreds of blends ofsnuff and among them are old

family recipes that have neverbeen written down. Lovers ofexotic perfumes find greatcharm in snuff. Oils of flowers,spices such as cloves andcinnamon, extracts of lavenderand peppermint all go intoscented varieties. You can haveorange or lemon snuff; lily ofthe valley or new-mown hay.Some like a rich black snuffwith a full bouquet; othersprefer the mild aromatic herbsof Golden Cardinal or Apple

Blossom. The names go to thehead like wine. Wagenaar hadin the shop Black Rappee andJockey Club, Carnation andGrand Opera, and the light, dryIrish High Toast with thetoasted flavour. Celery has beenused to flavour snuff. Rum andwhisky go well in snuff andthere is a market for a coffeeand brandy blend.

"How do you take snuff - andhow often?" I asked Wagenaar.

"A heavy snuffer may takethirty pinches a day - obviouslytoo much," Wagenaar replied."The true snuffer feels the oldmagic every time he takes apinch between thumb andforefinger. Inhale quicklywithout dropping a grain. Neversprinkle your snuff on the backof the hand and use the nose asa vacuum cleaner. Theexperienced snuffer, by theway, rarely sneezes. That is thesign of a beginner." Wagenaar

told me that snuff improvedwith age like wine. Someaddicts laid down cellars ofsnuff. Unfortunately thecigarette had a deep adverseinfluence on this charmingsymbol of a more leisurely age.Snuff and cigars will never dieout but there can be no returnto the days of Beau Brummel.

1 Chapter note 1: Munnik'smother was in danger whenMunnik was born. The

celebrated Dr James Barry,called in to deal with theemergency, performed the firstcompletely successfulCaesarean operation;previously either the mother orthe child had died. Mr EricVertue, who investigated theevent, stated that Dr Barry hadwatched two Caesareanoperations in Edinburgh buthad never before attemptedone. The date of the Cape Townoperation was July 25, 1826. It

was not until 1834 that asurgeon in Britain repeated theachievement. Munnik wasnamed James Barry in honourof the surgeon. General JamesBarry Munnik Hertzog was adescendant of the snuffmanufacturer. (Only after herdeath was Dr Barry discoveredto be a woman probably makingher the first female doctor toqualify in Britain. Ed)

2 Chapter note 2: Monterey

cigars, hand-wrapped in theCanary Islands, have come tothe fore in recent years and areamong the best in the worldtoday. They have the fouressential qualities-they look,feel, taste and smell good.

Chapter Eighteen - FreshAnd Wholesome

In short, it's a market whereeverything's sold,

Where potatoes and turnips areturned into gold:

Where agents and shippersprovision the clippers

And skinny Cape chickens aresold to the skippers.

ANON.

At first glance you might havetaken old Jimmy Linton forCape Town's greatest nobody.After all, a lavatory attendantdoes not often get into "Who'sWho" and even the telephonebook may ignore him. Yet oldLinton was not such anonentity as he looked. Heknew the market. Linton was asmall fellow with weak blueeyes and a drooping moustache.

He walked like a cripple butthere was nothing seriouslywrong with him apart fromcorns. His chalet was in QueenVictoria Street close to thelibrary.

It is still there, a charming littleVictorian convenience with apicturesque slate roof and ironfiligree decorations. I oftendropped in after a spell in thelibrary; and there was Linton ina tiny, glassed-in cubicle. He

had an electric kettle and hemade himself as snug asanyone could hope to be in thesection marked "Gentlemen".Often he gave tea parties there,with his guests leaning againstthe urinal partitions and wash-basins; a respectful circlelistening intently to Linton.Some of them looked as thoughthey needed the refreshmentprovided by the kindlyattendant.

Linton seemed to know me.One day he remarked to myastonishment: "You're ajournalist, aren't you? I'm goingin for journalism - you'll see mein the office next month." Helooked round the lavatory witha sad expression. "Yes, it's a bitof a wrench, but I've resigned."Sure enough Linton turned upin the office. During a moresuccessful period of his careerhe had held a job at themunicipal market in Sir Lowry

Road. Apparently there hadbeen an episode which Lintondid not care to discuss;something which had broughtabout a change of occupation.Now he was returning to themarket as a newspapercorrespondent. It was not astaff job but Linton was toreceive something more than apenny a line. Everythingdepended on the way he filledthe space.

Fortunately the hard-bittensubeditors were sympathetictowards this old man earning aprecarious living and usuallythey took all he wrote. I soonbegan to look forward toLinton's daily visits because hebrought all sorts ofunpredictable items with himfrom the market. One day itwould be a grotesque potatoresembling a politician; then amore interesting rarity, acucumber two feet long or

some beautiful English redcurrants grown on a farm in theSutherland district fourthousand feet above sea-level.Linton presented me with aparcel of dried leaves from ascented gum and assured methat if I put them in my pillowthey would keep away fleas andmoths, cockroaches and rats. Itwas the folklore of the veld thatLinton brought into the office.He had tried all the medicalremedies of the Cape

countryside; pomegranate rootfor tape-worms, braambosroots boiled in water fordiarrhoea. Mention a fruit orvegetable and Linton could tellyou a story about it. He alsoknew where to find the best ofeverything in the market; heliked his food to be fresh andwholesome.

I met Linton at the marketduring the various fruit andvegetable seasons and benefited

greatly from his conductedtours of halls, lorries, wagonsand carts. Linton was on goodterms with dozens of farmers,especially the descendants ofthose German peasants whoturned parts of the sandy CapeFlats wilderness into marketgardens. Those fairlyprosperous farmers fromPhilippi spoke of the yearswhen their parents, and evenyoung children, toiled fromdawn to dusk and then returned

to wattle and daub huts for anevening meal of salt fish.Women plodded through thesand for miles with eggs andbutter and sacks of vegetableson their backs. They worked sohard during the last threedecades of last century thatthey were able to build aLutheran Church and a school.

Linton also introduced me tomembers of the famous Puntfamily. Their ancestor came

from Holland as a schoolmasterin the middle of last century.He turned to vegetable farmingand now a legion of Puntsdominate some of the vlei areason the Cape Flats, growingeverything from sweet-corn toflowers. If you can win a prizeat the Goodwood agriculturalshow in competition with thePunt clan then you are anexpert. The Punts not only growthe well-known vegetables;they have also introduced

unusual varieties. Celeriac, theturnip-rooted celery, becamepopular in Cape Town after thePunts had grown it in theirexperimental beds and shown itat Goodwood. It looks like abrown turnip and can be eatenraw.

Carrots are kings on the CapeFlats farms. They are in greatdemand all the year round, notonly by housewives but also byracehorses and canning

factories. Carrots roasted withthe meat form a traditionalCape dish. But enormous cropsof potatoes are also grown onthe Flats. Linton informed methat the ordinary white potatowas a wretched vegetable at theCape up to the middle of lastcentury. The sweet potato orpatat was the favourite andtrue potatoes were neglected.Sweet potatoes were importedfrom Java centuries ago andflourished in the Cape soil.

Malay cooks prepared gestoofdepatats; chipped and boiled overa slow fire and served withcinnamon sauce. Or kerriepatats, small pieces steeped inbrine, cooked and served with ahot curry sauce. Or just fried inboiling fat and eaten with friedsnoek. You could make a sweetpotato salad. Sweet potatoesboiled in their skins wereamong the great dishes in thewheat belt. So the white potatolanguished and one writer

declared that a bar of soap wasjust as palatable. Then aCaledon farmer named T. B.Bayley introduced new andsucculent types of potatoesfrom England; waxy and firm orfloury, and also new potatoes.The sweet potatoes are stillwith us but the Majestic potatofrom Scotland now rivals theoriental patat.

Linton pointed out the tomatovarieties, from Golden Queen

to the dishevelled yet palatablefruit known as Cape Wrinkled.He said the Portuguese carriedtomato plants to Africa and theEast; but it was only in thenineties of last century that theCape housewife accepted thetomato. At one time it wasregarded as poisonous; later thelovely tomato was a socialoutcast, like garlic in somecircles today. HildagondaDuckitt did not despise eithergarlic or tomato; she made a

splendid tomato sauce blendedwith onions, garlic, red chillies,ginger, spices and vinegar. Butthe time when South Africanfarmers could grow tomatoesworth millions of Rands a yearstill lay far ahead.

"What calls back the past like arich pumpkin pie?" quotedLinton one night when all thepumpkins in the Cape seemedto be rolling into the market.Pumpkins were among the first

crops grown by Van Riebeeckand the pumpkin has held itsplace in the story of the Capeever since those early days. Notonly pumpkin pie, youunderstand, but boiledpumpkin with butter, pumpkinbredie, pumpkin fritters andcoarse pumpkin bread. Lintonsaid that he had watched a CapeFlats housewife giving her sona dopper haircut using half apumpkin to guide her scissors.A dried pumpkin shell makes a

useful bowl and farmerssometimes use them forholding seed. "Pumpkins giveno trouble and a farmer eatspumpkin bredie, a stew ofmutton, pumpkin and redpeppers with as much sheep-tail fat as the dish will hold, andis content," summed up LadyDuff Gordon.

Linton said he liked to seestrings of onions hanging up ina kitchen. Farmers who

followed that ancient beliefkept epidemics out of thehouse. He pointed out creamy-yellow Cape straw onions,Australian brown, CaledonGlobes and De Wildt from theTransvaal. Garlic? Lintonbelieved in garlic as a medicine."It must be clean, white andhard," he declared. Garlic hadnot swept into so manyhouseholds at that period; nowit has become a pungent wavewith overwhelming aroma. It

was still a Cinderella admiredmainly by foreigners - thebreath of France, Italy andGreece, not South Africa.

"Figs are orphans in SouthAfrica," declared Linton onenight when he saw me staringat a purple mound of figs. "Theold Cape fig, small and white,has a good flavour but it is hardto find nowadays. Farmers willplant a fig tree at the backdoorbut they will not grow figs on a

large scale. There is a demand.Fig jam is popular, green figpreserve is an old favourite, anda raw fig is best of all. But theyneed a lot of water, the birdsdevour them by the ton, antsand insects are enemies. So youoften find a shortage of figs."

Among the rarities at themarket was watercress. Lintonnoted it when he saw it, boughtsome to use as a tonic, andquoted Culpepper the herbalist

in his report. "The juices ofwatercress mixed with vinegarare very good for those that aredull and have the lethargy.Watercress pottage is a remedyto cleanse the blood in springand consume the grosshumours winter hath leftbehind." Mrs Dijkman, apioneer among the Capecookery authors, devised awatercress salad prepared likelettuce salad with vinegar, salt,oil, mustard and two eggs. She

said it was very wholesome,especially for consumptives.

Cherries were also rare in thenineteen twenties. JamesLogan the enterprising "Laird ofMatjesfontein" planted cherriesthere at the end of last century;crops of fine quality were raisedbut not in large quantities. Youfind very few references tocherries in old Cape literaturedealing with cuisine; not acherry pie or cherry jam

anywhere. Linton said a littlesnow was needed for cherryproduction and there were fewfarms in the Cape with that sortof climate.

Mangoes came from Natal inthose days if they reached theCape Town market at all.Hildagonda Duckitt had amango chutney recipe in one ofher books but suggested applesas a substitute for the almostunprocurable mango. However,

there are now scattered mangoplantations in various parts ofthe Western Cape. The fruit is abad traveller but it has beencanned in South Africa and thehousewife can prepare mangomarmalade or sweet pickle.Some people think the flavourof mangoes is superior tograpes. It certainly makes a fineice-cream.

One hot February night Lintonpointed to the truckloads of

grapes rolling in fromConstantia and declared: "Therecome the world's finest tablegrapes - the largest and thesweetest, the hanepoot." Hesaid the grapes bore noresemblance at all to a cock'sfoot; the word was aeuphemism and should reallybe hanekloot (testicle). Thewhite variety came to the Capefrom the Mediterranean; theclaret-red grape seems to haveoriginated at the Cape as a

deviation from the white. Sweetwines and raisins are madefrom the hanepoot. Farmersloved the hanepoot because avineyard planted with thatvariety would last a century.Coloured farm labourers usedto date important events fromthe hanepoot season.

March saw the peaches arrivingin their wood-wool trays. Iasked Linton what he thoughtof them and he replied:

"Neither our best nor our worstfruit. French peaches are thefinest in the world and whenthe Huguenots settled herethey brought good recipes forpickling peaches with onions,vinegar, red chillies and ginger.Yellow-fleshed peaches are bestcanned or bottled or cooked. Ifyou want to eat a peach raw goto France for the Montreuilpeaches that Louis XIVenjoyed. Elbertas from Italy arenext on the list. Did you ever

hear of the lazy poet calledJames Thomson? He grewpeaches in his garden but hecould not be bothered to pluckthem. So he just stood beside apeach that was bursting withripeness, bit off the mostinviting piece and left the restfor the birds."

I thought this discourse waspretty good for an ex-lavatoryattendant. Linton also told methat English gooseberries were

first grown at the Cape by theGerman artist WilhelmLangschmidt, who farmed atGrabouw. At the same period,the eighteen-fifties, rhubarbfirst came on the Cape Townmarket; a gardener namedUpjohn grew rhubarbsuccessfully at Rondebosch andsold thousands of hardy youngplants. "Rhubarb is cheap andgood for you - but it does notappeal to me," Linton added.

Chestnuts appeared on themarket in autumn, those usefulnuts that grow well at Paarl andStellenbosch and go intopuddings and sweets. Pecanswere seldom on sale; farmerswere against planting for theirgrandchildren. The trees last fora century or more and becomeenormous. Sweet, deliciouspecans are easy to crack andthey are versatile in thekitchen. However, you have togo all the way to

Pietermaritzburg to find an oldold pecan orchard, planted earlythis century. Walnuts, relativesof the pecan, were sent by seafrom Mossel Bay to the CapeTown market at one time.

Mushrooms came to themarket after the first good rainsof winter, but Linton preferredto collect his own pine rings inthe woods of Table Mountain orshaggy ink-caps in unexpectedplaces. He was not the sort of

man to make a mistake about adeath cup. He knew that somepeople might become violentlyill after eating safe varieties buthe was not one of then. He hadno tests, but his weak blue eyesnever failed him. Linton saidthat mushrooms wereindigestible and had little or nofood value. He loved thembecause they gave him anappetite for other things.

Missions sent produce to the

Early Morning Market, not onlyfruit and vegetables but articlesmade of taaibos andmatjiesgoed. Linton showed mea typical chair fromGenadendal, reminiscent of aMadeira chair but made ofreeds and twigs; price only tenshillings each in those days.The taaihos was also used forfish baskets. An item I hadnever seen before was wax fromthe Mamre mission. Womenand children collected the fruit

while the men were ploughing.The berries, boiled and skinned,yielded a pure wax for candles.

I still miss the old market whenI drive along Sir Lowry Road atnight. Of course the enormousEpping market is more efficientin every way; it covers sixty-four acres and handles twohundred thousand tons ofproduce a year. Potatoes aresold by machine. Fruit andvegetables travel from Epping

to the Congo. But the old SirLowry Road market stood injust about the same place for acentury and a half. Lintonshowed me a list of marketprices printed early lastcentury, when farmers came inwith loads of venison, quaggas,elephants' teeth and leaguers ofbrandy. The korhaan had notyet been protected; it was soldwith the turkeys and fowls.

A city loses something valuable

when it abolishes a market nearits heart and drives its greatrumbling belly out into thecountry. A market is freeentertainment. You walk pastnoisy embankments ofcabbages or onions and carrots,and you can tell where you arewith your eyes shut. This is life.The market is an ever-changinggarden, built up daily from barecement, transformed by theseasons but always a paradisefor those who use their noses to

revive the past. The market isthe belly and also the beatingheart of a city. You hear theshouts of the barrow boys, thevoices of the farmers, thecalling of the auctioneers; allthis becomes a chapter ofexperience, and the aromas arelike heady wines. Then the daycomes when you must attend arequiem.

However, the market people ofCape Town do not lack a sense

of tradition. The bell that rangthe first train out of Cape Townstation on a March day in 1859was rung every day in the SirLowry Road market for theopening of sales. It is a ship'sbell, mounted in an old-fashioned steering wheel. A bellwith a story. Hansie Waal, abygone market master alwaysrang the bell. He died suddenly.Next day the new man tried toring the bell and the metal split.They gave up using the bell but

when the market moved out toEpping the old, cracked bellwent too.

Chapter Nineteen -Smith Of The Fish

Market

Down in the old Rogge Bay fishmarket of redolent memory Ihad a friend who was as wellinformed in his own field asLinton among the vegetables.He was Mr E. H. Smith,Member of the Royal SanitaryInstitute, Member of theInstitute of Industrial Hygiene.As a health official, first in

Simonstown and then in CapeTown, my friend Smith rankedas an authority on fish andmeat. I never heard him cry"stinking fish" but he couldspot it unfailingly.

My fish inspector Smith maynot have been in the samecategory as the Smith ofcoelacanth fame but hesatisfied my curiosity in certainbranches of fish lore that mighthave baffled the professor.

When I talked to my Smith thewhole past of the Cape fishingindustry rose before me. I sawthe Strandlopers trapping fishand drying them in sun andwind, with the smoke fromtheir fires keeping the fliesaway. They had bone hooks andharpoons. Salt as a preservativewas unknown to them; butperhaps the wood ash servedthe purpose. They made aprehistoric fish paste bypounding sun-dried fish and

adding boiling water and grainsof wild cereals.

Hottentots were poorfishermen. They caught thebroad, silvery fish now knownas Hottentot close inshore; andit gained the name (accordingto Smith) because this wastheir main catch. Dutch visitorsnoted that the timid Hottentotsseldom went above their kneesin the sea. However, theyattacked seals on the beaches,

used the skins as clothing andthe bladders as water bottles.Dampier the buccaneer was oneof those who was surprised tofind that the Hottentots nevermade boats, canoes or evenrafts. Later observers noted thatthe Hottentots had no specialfish names in their language;only generic words such fish,seal and whale. They oftencamped for months near a deadwhale, oblivious to the smell,eating the meat and storing the

oil in hollow strands of kelp.Some of the Bantu races wereeven less enthusiastic aboutfish than the Hottentots. LadyAnne Barnard wrote: "Fish theyseemed to have no taste for -indeed, till they reached theCape they had never seen a fish,hooks and lines being unknownto them."

Then came the Portugueseexplorers, fish-lovers to a man.Dutch sailors were just as ready

to drop hand lines over the sideand bring up kabeljou fromdeep water. Joris vanSpilbergen caught "carpers ofexcellent flavour" at a rivermouth in Table Bay early in theseventeenth century; a river hecalled Rio de Jacquelina, ourless romantic Salt River. Storiesof excellent fishing encouragedthe Dutch East Indiaauthorities to start the Capesettlement. Once the Dutch hadlanded, fishing became an

important industry and Capefish were caught such as theHottentots had never set eyesupon. Robben Island waterswere explored for fish. HendrikClaudius, the artist under thepatronage of Simon van derStel, painted a number of fish;the roman, fransmadam,electric ray, yellowtail andothers. Renowned naturalistssuch as Nieuhof, Tachard andKolbe visited the Cape anddescribed the fish. Peter Kolbe,

the German, a most revealingtraveller, described an earlyeighteenth century storm thatswept the sea from False Baydeep into the Cape Flats.Thousands of wagon-loads offish were stranded. Sea fishreached Zeekoe Vlei, stillinhabited by hippo. Kolbeplaced the white steenbras firstamong the table fish. (HastingsBeck says the red steenbras isthe aristocrat, a fish with alemon flavour, a fish that does

not become coarse in old age.)Dr Andrew Smith published histreatise on fish in the eighteen-thirties. Fishermen collectedspecimens for him and hewrote some good earlydescriptions of the Cape sharks.

My friend Smith gatheredstories and legends from agedMalays at Rogge Bay. Theyrecalled a Table Bay seaquakein the eighteen-thirties whenmillions of fish were washed

ashore. Poor coloured peoplefeasted on snoek, mackerel andstockfish. The mad rush ofterrified fish continued fordays; some of the fish wentbad; many people were taken illand some died. Whales werecast up at lonely spots along thecoast but by the time they werediscovered the oil wasvalueless. These old fishermenalways vowed that the TableBay fishing was far better lastcentury. They spoke of catching

forty thousand harders in onenight. A five hundred-poundturtle was landed onBlaauwberg beach. Boys on theold Central Jetty hauled in akingklip four feet long weighingtwenty pounds. From the rocksat Sea Point, opposite theresidence of Mr C. A.Fairbridge, an angler caught aray measuring ten feet sixinches from wing to wing; theweight was seven hundredpounds. Huge skates entered

Table Bay and a one hundredand sixty pounder was hauledon to the South Arm at thedocks. And of course there werestories of voracious armies ofsnoek taking any bait andfetching only a halfpenny each.

Rogge Bay, according to Smith,meant Rock Bay. The roundstones like cannon-balls werestill there when I first wentdown to the Table Bay YachtClub; so I think Smith was

right. Graham Botha, in one ofhis early works, said that thename came from the Dutch rog(skate); but he became dubiouslater. Rogge Bay was speltRoche Bay on some charts,Roche being the French forrock. Some of the fishermenclaimed Adderley Street as theirbirthplace. It was true.Fishermen were allowed tobuild huts on the beach atRogge Bay years ago and wholefamilies lived there. Those old

Malays had their own RoggeBay dialect, their own namesfor birds and fish, weather andseamarks. They used Malaywords that had been forgottenin the Malay Quarter. Snoekand sweet potatoes kept themgoing for part of the year. RoggeBay knew two great seasons;the "big fish" period when thesnoek and geelbek wererunning; and the "small fishtime" that lasted eight months,when they could only expect to

bring harders, steentjies andother such fish back to thebeach.

Rogge Bay was for many yearsthe liveliest and mostinteresting part of Table Bay.The fishermen were sailors inthose days and they looked thepart as they slung oilskins,kerries, tackle boxes and stoneanchors into the open boats andhoist their jibs and spritsails.They named the boats after

their womenfolk, Fatima,Rachma and so on. It was agreat spectacle, boat after boatdeparting or coming in ladenwith fish. Often the wholeMalay Quarter seemed to bewaiting on the beach; priests inbright robes, women in flowingVictorian skirts, redfezzed oldmen who had retired from thehard life afloat: Always the fish-carts were there, the hornssounding their weird unmusicalnotes. They washed the blood

from the boats and left them farup the beach, clean and emptyat last, in crescent formation.The tired fishermen driftedaway from Rogge Bay and thegulls came down for the scraps.Dr I. D. du Plessis captured thescene and lamented the passingof Rogge Bay in one of hisbeautiful Afrikaans poems. Hesaw the old Rogge Bay becomedust and ashes, bricks andbuilding plots, where the sturdyfishermen Faroek, Suleiman

and Abubakar once brought intheir silver cargoes.

It was in the old Rogge Bay fishmarket that Smith showed mehis favourite fish, acomparative rarity known asthe butterfish. "There are othernames, just to make thingsmore difficult," Smithexplained. "Some call it apampelmoesie because it isshaped and coloured somethinglike a gooseberry, with orange

and rose-red fins. Others referto the Cape Lady orsteenklipvis. Anyway it is a shycustomer, found among therocks at Green Point and otherparts of Table Bay, but seldomhooked. These old Malayfishwives know I like butter-fish, and their men folk keepsome for me when they catchthem in the nets. The flesh isrich, hence the name butterfish- very tender but you must eatit the same day. Fry it in butter

or grill it like a sole and youhave a really great dish. Withhalf a bottle of dry white wine,of course."

Smith was also partial to largeedible crabs. Trawler mensometimes kept them for himas these huge spider crabs werecaught in deep water. The meat,said Smith, was coarse butsweet. He liked a crabmayonnaise or crab with acurry dressing served in half an

avocado pear. Smith cooked hiscrawfish according to a recipeDr Leipoldt had given him. Heselected very young crawfish,killed them and placed them inboiling sea water with seaweed,lemon, Pittosporum leaves,onion and mace. After tenminutes they were ready to beeaten hot with a sauce tartare.As a health inspector Smithnaturally insisted on freshness."Never buy a yawning mussel,"he used to warn me. "They

must be alive, alive-o! Jars ofmussels in vinegar are no useto me. I like to scrape off thebeards and barnacles andseaweed, wash out the sand andeat them raw, like oysters. Oryou can make a good moulesmariniere by cooking them intheir own juice flavoured withgarlic and white wine."

Smith saw too much of the seaand sea fish at times in thecourse of his duties. As a

change he used to take hisfishing rod to Princess Vlei onthe Flats and catch the hugeand reckless carp. From the fishfarming point of view, Smithdeclared, the arrival of carp inthese waters was a disaster. MrC. A. Fairbridge had importedan aquarium tank with six carp,four perch and two tench backin the eighteen-fifties. Only thetough carp survived the voyage.They bred fast in a pond in thebotanical gardens in Cape Town

and their progeny were freed invleis and rivers. Before longthey were dominating waterswhere trout and other superiortable fish should haveflourished. At Princess Vlei thecarp found an ideal home; thewarm water and sandy bottomsuited them admirably. Theybred three times a year,discoloured the water and madelife impossible for the trout.Smith used grapes, melon anddough as bait and he was

delighted when he caught a fatsix pound carp. (I believe therecord now stands at twentypounds.) Smith said that peoplewho found carp muddy, bonyand flavourless simply did notknow how to prepare it. "Killand clean your carp on a wetplank to preserve the attractiveblue colour," Smith advised."Simmer in salted water and eatyour carp with boiled potatoesand parsley butter. The saltremoves the muddy flavour. A

large carp is easily filleted."

Smith came back from aholiday in Durban full of praisefor the Natal fish he had tasted.He said there was a widechoice, from the salmon-bass (asort of kabeljou) to the crabflavoured mussel cracker. Hehad enjoyed boiled dagger head,curried seventy-four, and fishwith unfamiliar names such asScotchman and soldier. Thekippered shad was good and so

was the smoked barracuda.Natal crawfish were small anddelicate. He had revelled incurried prawns and crab pie.Baked parrot fish was excellent.Fried smelt, grunter boiled withegg sauce, moonfish, pompanoand queen fish were amongother exotic treats. Smith knewa great deal about fish. I thinkhis Durban holiday proved thatwe all need a change of dietnow and then.

I was reading an expensiveSouth African fish cookery booknot long ago in which theauthor asserted that "thebounty offered by the two vastoceans abutting two thousandfive hundred miles of coastlinehad been sadly neglected". Shehoped that her book wouldremedy the deficiency; but inreality there is no shortage. Sheought to see my collection ofCape fish cookery books,ranging from pamphlets given

away by commercial firms tothe satisfying fish recipesgathered by such culinarygiants as Leipoldt and VictorReitz. Some of Leipoldt's mostvaluable work in this field is tobe found in "Polfyntjies vir dieProe", which a leading criticdescribed as "uniquely SouthAfrican". But there is a long andenlightening fish section inLeipoldt's earlier "Kos vir dieKenner"; while his "Diner'sGuide" deals in expert fashion

with fish as a diet. Reitz, formerhead of railway catering, dealtwith South African fish dishesin a thoroughly professionalway in his excellent book"Quality and Quantity". Hegives you not only theinternational cuisine in simpleterms but also the correctmethods of serving Capesalmon, kingklip, stockfish andother familiar species. HastingsBeck, who blends genuinehumour with long experience,

wrote a classic fish chapter inhis slim but memorable book"Meet the Cape Food". Beckwarns you against the evilodour of a stockfish that hasnot been skinned properly. Heis not afraid of confessing hismistakes; for example, thesnoek he boiled with whitewine, butter and lemon. Toorich, too rich! His pickled fishrecipe is magnificent and hefills a gap with his method ofgrilling katonkel. If you have

failed to read Beck then youhave missed a Lynn Doyle ofthe Cape kitchen.

Let us not overlook HildaGerber with her authentic"Traditional Cookery of theCape Malays". She tells us oftheir beliefs; "some avoid redfish such as stompneus becausethey consider all red fishpoisonous". She has fishrecipes, all clearly based onyears of successful cooking,

ranging from perdevoetjies(periwinkles) to braisedcrawfish. Her earlier "Fish Farefor South African" was acomplete guide to sea foods;how to buy and clean fish; basicrecipes; sea fish, shellfish, allthe freshwater fish from barbelto trout; all the salads andsauces. Aagot Stromsoe mustcertainly not be forgotten. Bornin fish-loving Norway, sheadapted her skill to the Capefish and revealed an artistic

touch which made her a mostpopular food writer. I have herfirst little work "Do You KnowHow to Cook Fish" (1928) andthe more ambitious "AagotStromsoe's Fish Book",published when she was nearlyeighty. Her fish balls were sodelicious that a Cape Town firmwas just about to put them onthe market in tins when the warbroke out and stopped theenterprise. She watched thefishermen making sun dried

snoek and improved on thetraditional process so that herversion tasted like smokedsalmon. The index to MrsStromsoe's second book provesthat she knew the whole rangeof dishes from plain fish cakesto Sole Veronique.

No, the vast oceans that washour shores have not beenneglected. At the end of my listof fish writers I return gladly tomy old friend E. J. Smith. You

will be lucky to find his littlepamphlet on the Parade oranywhere else, nowadays, but Ihave a copy beside me. Hecalled it "Edible South AfricanFishes" and it came out in 1927after he had addressed theSouth African Health Officials'Association. Smith describedthe curing of fish and thecommon fish diseases. Hecould diagnose such conditionsas milky stockfish, blackstockfish, parasites of snoek.

He set down the points to beobserved when buying fish inmasterly fashion and thendescribed the various speciesfrom red gurnet to skate. WhenI park my car over the rocksand sands of Rogge Bay Iremember many old friends,Smith of the fish market amongthem.

Chapter Twenty -Unlucky Ambrose

Mr Ambrose Carroll sat at hisdesk in an office that seemed tohave been hauled up from thebed of the ocean. It was a sortof dungeon in the basement ofCape Town's first theatre, theplace that became St. Stephen'sChurch in Riebeek Square. Thechurch authorities rented thesesolid stone cellars to all sorts oftenants: weird religions, a man

who could mend anything andAmbrose Carroll. Probably fewother landlords would haveallowed an office to be litteredwith anchors and heavy marinerelics; but here there was norisk of the floor giving way.

Indeed it was a most unusualoffice. A dangerous-lookingdiving outfit hung on one wall,copper helmet, twill, rubber andall and leaden-soled boots. Anair pump with rubber pipe and

coiled lifeline suggested thatCarroll was ready for business.Framed charts had beenarranged between photographsof wrecks, wire lifting strops,blocks and tackle and all theimpedimenta of a salvageenterprise. Several decayingiron cannon, still encrustedwith barnacles, were proppedagainst the walls. From theromantic point of view it was arich collection. A brass ship'sclock had, perhaps, the highest

cash value; but the room wasalive with possibilities. One feltthe atmosphere of adventure.Ghosts of drowned seamenguarding chests of gold mighthave been present in thatdungeon.

I was also very much aware ofthe presence of AmbroseCarroll. He parted his curly hairin the middle. Now and againhe smoothed his moustache.His handsome face was

confident. A chart lay beforehim and he played with parallelrulers and dividers like anexperienced navigator. I lookedat the chart to see whetherthere was a cross marking thespot where thousands in goldawaited recovery. Carrollfollowed my glance and smiled."I've got scores of wrecks pin-pointed but those charts arelocked away in the safe overthere," Carroll assured me."You see, I've been in the game

for over thirty years. Yes, Istarted in 1903 on the coast ofGerman South West Africa,prospecting for diamonds andsearching for treasure. It is anincurable disease once the germhas worked its way into yoursystem. This is the spirit thatmoved Vasco da Gama, WalterRaleigh, Cook and the rest. Iread stories of treasure huntswhen I was a schoolboy andnow I am searching the sea-floor myself."

I did not care to remind Carrollthat this incurable disease hadbeen responsible for the loss ofthe coasting steamer Nautiluson Possession Island soon afterWorld War I. They weredredging for diamonds. Carrolland all on board the Nautilusescaped when the coasterstruck a rock and foundered.The shareholders were unlucky.Similar ventures in the samewaters after World War II (withbetter machinery) have brought

up diamonds worth millions.Like many pioneers, Carrollwas unlucky. Yet his optimisticeyes sparkled as he describedhis plans for the recovery ofuntold wealth. He had floated acompany. The shares were notlisted, so that investors neverreceived unpleasant shocks onopening a newspaper. They hadbought an old suction dredgerand fitted it with a "seascope", asubmarine eye. Theirmotorboats were dragging the

bottom of Table Bay and whenthe wire encountered anobstruction the divers wentdown. Carroll indicated theworthless and rusty junk in theroom as evidence of thesepromising activities. Variouswrecks had been registered atthe Customs in the name of thecompany and the governmentwould receive fifteen per centof everything salvaged and sold."To undertake a hazard like thisyou must have faith in your

divers," went on Carrollsolemnly. "They are the menwho do the work. Soon I shallhave success to report - I amconvinced of that."

Carroll explained that it wasjust a matter of searching in theright place. Coins had beenwashed up on islands and partsof the Cape coast after gales; hehad seen them and these coinsprovided valuable clues.Cannon also pointed the way to

old wrecks. He had gonethrough the records andcompiled a list of treasureships. Round about the year1700 a ship had disappearedmysteriously in Saldanha Bay.According to the research hehad carried out in the archivesthis was a pirate ship withtreasure worth manythousands. His divers hadlocated a sunken vessel and thismight be the pirate. They hadbrought up copper sheathing

from the wooden hull. "I expectsensational discoveries,"remarked Carroll in tones ofdeep faith. Now I began to seewhere the money was comingfrom. Some people love agamble, whether it is aGrosvenor syndicate or atreasure hunt in Cape waters.Ambrose Carroll was their man.

Carroll was not always vague.He had his eye on the Maori,the Shaw Savill freighter lost in

a gale among the Duiker Pointboulders near Hout Bay in 1909with heavy loss of life. I pointedout that the Maori was carryinga cargo of dynamite and othergoods that would not be worthsalvaging. Carroll smiledpatiently. "I am after thecaptain's safe," he replied."They used golden sovereignsas money at that time. I happento know what is in that safe."

What else? Well, there was the

wreck of Het Huis teCruyenstein, a 1698 wreck inthe calm waters of Oudekraalnot far from the scene of theMaori disaster. He showed mea yellow cutting from the "CapeArgus" dated March 17, 1908,with a list of relics brought upfrom Het Huis te Cruyenstein.This was authentic. The antiqueglassware covered with seagrowths was still lovely. "Thehulk remains, with itsimperishable contents," ran the

report. Here I must leap aheadto inform you that Oudekraal isnow regarded as a kindergartenby modern skin divers. Manyadventurous young men andgirls have set eyes on the bonesof Het Huis te Cruyenstein inrecent years. Wine bottles,timber, metal, lead ballast and afirebrick have come to thesurface. The keel timbers havebeen photographed, drapedwith seaweed. Other morevaluable objects were recovered

earlier. Mystery surrounds twobronze cannon. One was foundin a loft at the Oranjezichthomestead, ancestral seat ofthe Van Breda family, owners ofOudekraal. It came almostcertainly from Het Huis teCruyenstein but a member ofthe Van Breda family informedme that it could not beidentified as embossed arms onthe cannon had beendeliberately obliterated. Asimilar cannon is to be seen in

the Koopman de Wet House inStrand Street, also with thearms hammered out. Oldbronze guns are now worthalmost as much as gold coinswhen antique collectors gatherin the auction rooms. Sleek andgraceful, with artisticdecorations, some of them have"lifting eyes" formed bygambolling dolphins. I imaginethat Carroll knew the value ofbronze cannon.

Carroll also had designs on theDutch East India shipStandvastigheid that wentdown off the Salt River mouthlong ago. There was the two-century-old wreck of the Frenchslaver Cybelle off Blaauwbergbeach. According to Carroll,slavers always carried a lot ofmoney either to buy slaves oras proceeds from the sale. As acontrast, there was thePortuguese liner Lusitanialying alongside the Bellows

Rock in False Bay. When shestruck at midnight in April 1911they abandoned ship in a hurry,leaving all the ship's money andother valuables. "Goldencoins!" declared Carroll firmly."No one has ever been near hersince she went down." Thenthere were three large sunkenships between Muizenberg andthe Strand; the fishermen allknew them well. Off the beachat Simonstown lay the Dutchman-o'-war Bata. She was on

fire when she sank and divershad seen the blackened timbersand copper that had takenstrange shapes when molten.Close to her was another oldwreck, thought to be the Dutchfrigate Holland that ran on areef in 1786 and sank. Beforesteering reluctantly away fromthe riches of False Bay themeticulous Carroll mentionedRoman Rock as a spot worthinvestigating.

We then turned to a chart ofthe Danger Point area, scene ofmany disasters, and Carrollremarked with an unfeelingsmile: "What is so satisfying asa good shipwreck?" He had inmind the R.M.S. Teuton thatstruck a reef and founderedabout eight miles from DangerPoint towards the end of lastcentury. She went downsuddenly, and all but thirty-sixof nearly three hundred peopleon board were drowned. Carroll

did not need to emphasise thefact that in such an emergencyno one thought of opening asafe and saving money. Herelated a Birkenhead legend Ihad never heard before. An oldcoloured woman living in anisolated shack near DangerPoint often spoke of the wreckof the famous troopship. Shewas a child at the time but sheand her mother tried to helpsurvivors. It was said thatcoloured people in the district

looted the bodies that washedashore and cut off fingers tosecure gold signet rings. Theold woman denied thesestories. She said survivors hadtold her mother that somepeople had lost their fingerswhen men with knivesprevented them from climbinginto overloaded boats. Sharkshad mutilated a number ofbodies. Carroll declared,however, that he was notinterested in the Birkenhead as

a treasure ship. She had beenpicked clean by divers in thepast.

Carroll made light of currentsand tide-rips when he spoke ofthe enthralling ventures hisdivers were embarking on.Whale Rock now, there was agraveyard of the sea litteredwith copper ingots. TheHouston steamer Hypatia hadgone down there close toRobben Island in 1929 and

many tons of valuable "blister"copper remained on thebottom. (He was right, ofcourse, but much of it was stillthere after World War II; thenother divers waited for calmspells between the north-westers of winter and thesummer south-easters. Theywere brave men. Theyencountered sharks and a largeoctopus. And they made only avery small fortune.) I thinkCarroll was most captivating

when he discussed chinaware.It was his hobby and he spokewith authority on Delft andChinese porcelain. Moreover hehad samples from the floor ofTable Bay to show me. Igathered that the Dutch at theCape in Van Riebeeck's dayused wooden platters or pewter;but soon afterwards the Dutchstarted exporting Delft potteryvases and tiles, whiteearthenware with painteddesigns, glazed with enamel. Of

course the Chinese had beenmaking superb porcelain longbefore the Dutch invented theirown process. Millions of piecesof Chinese porcelain reachedEurope in the first half of theseventeenth century; and as theships called at the Cape therecame a time when the upperclasses at the Cape settlementbegan importing the beautifulplates, cups and bowls. In spiteof all precautions the chinapacked in baskets and straw,

cases and barrels was oftenbroken. Carroll said the cargoesshifted in the holds of littlesailing ships and fifty per centof the china might arrivedamaged.

"Table Bay is littered withfragments of china," declaredCarroll. "It is so plentiful thatthe British Museum expertsdescribe this china from wrecksas 'Table Bay china'. This mustnot be confused with 'Table Bay

plate', the plates, cups andsaucers decorated with TableBay scenes, ships and TableMountain." Carroll related thestory of china for my benefit.He said it started with the Mingdynasty china (1368-1644) thatfirst reached Europe byoverland routes and thenrounded the Cape inPortuguese ships. This wasremarkable for the paintingbeneath the coloured glaze. It isa very old art, based on the

discovery of pure clay thatburnt white. Those orientalpotters made lovely ceramicware but only the wealthy inEurope could afford to use it.Alchemists tried to work outthe secret and the Germanapothecary Boettger discovereda glazed porcelain process.Nevertheless the Chinesecontinued to dominate thefield. Kang Hsi porcelain (1662-1722) was landed at the Cape inlarge quantities and this

reached new heights in colourand design. Some of it was blueon white; there were pure whitecups with decorative borderscomposed of gilded flowers orfish; and white bowls coveredwith black enamel and designsin gold. Nankin china came tothe Cape in many ships duringthe eighteenth century, blueand white tea and dinnerservices that are now to be seenin museums. Then there is theeighteenth-century Imari ware,

the process followed by theJapanese long after the Chinesehad discovered the art ofporcelain. Imari porcelainincludes blue and white plattersdecorated with Japanesedesigns. Gold, red and greenappear in later Imari ware andthe VOC mark was oftenembodied at the request of theDutch East India Company.

Carroll opened a drawer andheld up a piece of Nankin

willow pattern, the worldfamous pagodas and bridges,and held it up to the light. "Yousee it is translucent," hepointed out. "That is the test ofporcelain. Pottery is opaque."He showed me a fragment ofDelft as a contrast, soft andyellowish. "It is beautiful, but Idislike Delft because the Dutchwere inclined to imitate theChinese," remarked Carroll. "Iprefer the real thing. Delft wareis seen at its best when the

makers used scenes in Holland,shepherds and milkmaids.However, I must admit that thetime came when the Chineseand Japanese copied Dutchdesigns, landscapes, ships andso on."

I asked Carroll whether he hadany unbroken porcelain and heshook his head sadly. "Ourdredger got its suction pipe intothe hold of a wreck anddelivered a lot of china at the

exhaust end - all in fragments,"he mourned. "Of course themen on board were notwatching the operationproperly. A diver should havegone down as soon as the firstchina arrived on board. Hemight have brought upsomething valuable. But we livein hopes." Carroll produced listsand photographs of porcelainand other historic treasuressnatched from the sea byprevious divers. His old

newspaper cuttings describedthese as "relics of the Haarlemwreck"; but Carroll explainedthat there were a manner ofwrecks off the Salt River mouthand the relics might have comefrom any of them. There was anancient pistol corroded withshells; blue vases covered withbarnacles; blue and whiteginger jars, dishes and tureens;oriental melon bowls and ricebowls. The head of a Chinesegod had been packed for safety

in a box of peppercorns andwhen a diver recovered it inTable Bay in the middle of lastcentury the contents of the boxhad solidified. The Middelburgwreck in shallow water atSaldanha Bay had yielded alarge number of cups, saucersand decorated tea jars in perfectcondition. "Rather surprising inview of the fact that the Dutchcaptain blew his ship up ratherthan allow her to be capturedby the English fleet," Carroll

remarked. "They got a lot out ofthe Middelburg and there maybe something left." Carroll haddetails of brown Martaban jarsbrought up from the Salt Riverwreck; earthenware jars madeby Chinese potters, used in theDutch ships for carrying oil andwine.

Carroll said he always hoped tofind a wreck with the sort ofchina described by Mentzel inthe middle of the eighteenth

century: "Dishes at banquets atthe Cape include enormousporcelain salad dishes a yard indiameter, the like of which is arare sight in Europe." He alsowanted to recover some famillerose porcelain with the rose-pink pigment, the eighteenth-century porcelain that theDutch loved. So the treasuredredger chartered by Carrolland his shareholders cruisedalong the shores of Table Bay,dropping her suction pipe in

likely and unlikely places andbringing up such fascinatingarticles as bed-pans from theTantallon Castle, broken cupsand glasses bearing the proudemblems of various shippinglines, port-holes and a fewbattered spoons. She cruisedpast Graaff's Pool at Sea Point,watched curiously by the sun-bathers. On this particularvoyage she was close to asunken treasure of considerablevalue. Unlucky Ambrose! The

dredger went on and theshareholders weredisappointed.

Three decades later twoperlemoen divers, George Belland his brother James, were onthe bottom sixty feet downwearing skin diving outfits.They were peering among thesea anemones and kelp for thehuge shells when theyencountered a metal keel, aship's bell and copper nails. The

brothers were not onlyfishermen; they wereexperienced marine salvagehands holding licences from theCustoms for the recovery oftreasure. Very soon they werefinding treasure, small, roundheavy objects encrusted withmarine growths. Even beforethey brought these objects tothe surface the Bells suspectedthat they had found gold.

What ship? This was a riddle

until one of the brothers cameupon a brass plate bearing thename B. A. Hamilton. The coinswhen cleaned suggested thatthe ship had been wrecked earlylast century. In the Capearchives there was a passengerlist from a British ship namedFame, lost on the Sea Pointcoast on March 5, 1822. Amongthe passengers was Dr B. A.Hamilton. The brothers thenapproached me, in greatsecrecy, for details of the wreck.

I found the whole story invarious issues of the "CapeTown Gazette". She was boundfrom Madras to London with amixed cargo and with a numberof invalids among thepassengers. They beat out ofTable Bay against a northerlywind, went about off Sea Point,missed stays and was thendriven on to the rocks. Boatsfrom Table Bay saved all butfour of the ship's company.After pounding in the surf for a

week the Fame broke up.Survivors had reason to believethat the Fame had beenplundered before she wentdown. A small sandalwood boxwas mentioned in oneadvertisement; it containeddiamond, emerald and rubyrings, a diamond brooch, pearlsand other jewellery. It isdoubtful whether any of theseitems were recovered. A publicsale was held and timber,masts, yards and other

wreckage from the Fame wereput up to auction on the beach.The list of articles included"silk handkerchiefs and a fewgold and silver coins".

So the Bell brothers searchedthe sunken wreckage of theFame after one hundred andforty-four years. They usedpumps, airlifts and water jets toclear away the mud and graniteboulders. For weeks the bathersat Graaff's Pool watched the

fishing cutter riding at anchorjust beyond the fringe of rocks.The Bells kept their secret.While everyone thought theywere fishing they brought tothe surface gold mohurs of theEnglish East India Company,star pagodas, George IIIguineas and sovereigns,Spanish silver pieces of eight,silver spoons, handles of silverdishes, fragments of goldchains, one ring with a diamondand topaz. My old friend

Commander W. J. Copenhagen,O.B.E., a resourceful chemistand expert on marine corrosion,took charge of the gold coinsand put them in anelectrochemical cell. Heswitched on the current andcoins came out as though theyhad just been minted.According to one report, thetotal value was about twentythousand rands.

I thought of poor old Ambrose

Carroll with his rusty anchorsand bits of porcelain. UnluckyAmbrose searched the sandsand the waters of the Cape formore than thirty years butnever was he rewarded by awreck like the Fame.

Chapter Twenty-one -The Vineyard's Treasure

Wines that, heaven knowswhen,

Had sucked the fire of someforgotten sun,

And kept it thro' a hundredyears of gloom.

TENNYSON

Never do I pass the wine cellars

of Somerset Road withoutthinking of my friend NigelSutherland, research chemist,radio personality and wineexpert. We called him Scottybecause of his accent; but hewas fluent in French andAfrikaans and his armylanguage would have astoundeda modern sergeant-major.Scotty was one of those whotaught me to know and lovewine.

Scotty's firm had a vat oftwenty-year-old brandyreserved for the staff. Thosewere the days when a brandydrinker was looked upon withsuspicion in South Africa; thecorrect spirit was whisky. Scottytaught me that mature Capebrandy was magnificent, theright drink before wine atdinner. I set out on manyexpeditions with Scotty, someas far as South West Africa; andalways a litre bottle of twenty-

year-old brandy went alongwith us. The bouquet rises inthe nostrils of memory, thetaste returns in all its richness,the brandy slides down in a fewmoments of deep pleasure,strength without fire. And therestands the tall, powerful,benevolent Scotty Sutherland,hair blond round the edges,bald as a monk, blue eyesbeaming on his friends. Howthe survivors miss him after allthese years!

Scotty started my education bytaking me to watch the coopersat work. "Good coopers are asrare as sovereigns in butter,"Scotty remarked. "Most of themare Malays and they have learntthe trade from their fathers andgrandfathers. They use theirnoses as well as their hands -they can smell a bad cask. Veryoften the wine taster calls on askilled cooper for an opinion."

Steel containers and glass-lined

tanks were almost unknown inthe wine cellars of Cape Townbetween the wars. Wine firmsimported oak staves fromAmerica and the Baltic,chestnut from Italy, theBrazilian timber calledmacacauba. South Africantimbers were too soft and wereseldom used though coopers atone firm near the Castle made abrandy vat twelve feet deep andtwenty feet in diameter fromlocal wood. This was the largest

vat in South Africa at that time,with a capacity of twentythousand gallons. The firm gavea lunch to sixteen people insidethe vat; some of them couldhardly climb the ladderafterwards.

So I saw the coopers bendingthe staves, using their eyes andthe rule-of-thumb methodsthese craftsmen have followedfor centuries. "They'll make acask to hold fifty gallons and

when it is filled they will not bemore than two pints out eitherway," Scotty declared. "Theyhave no instruments but theytake a pride in their work. Atight cask demands great skill.It is under pressure fromwithin, it is jolted on the roadand there must be no leaks.Look up Mendelssohn's'Vintage Song' and you get thespirit of the trade." I did so andfound this verse:

On stave and hoop the longyears through

We work'd with will andpleasure

And when the cask was firmand true

We press'd the vineyard'streasure.

Long ago there were cooperswho carved designs coveringthe ends of vats and barrels.

Their art survives in many oldcellars. Nowadays mastersculptors are employed todecorate vats with armorial andother designs; there is a winecavern in the Stellenboschdistrict with ships and grapesand other themes on the facesof the vats. Somerset Roadcellars had in their dim aislesevery sort of timber in everysize from the enormousblending vats to little Frenchfeuillettes holding thirty

gallons. In the fragrantdarkness Scotty flashed historch on mahogany vats boundwith brass hoops; row upon rowof Portuguese oak pipes thathad come down the Douro inbarges to find a last restingplace at the Cape; French oakmaturing casks in which theliving wine could breathe, themysterious Limosin oakholding elements that impartnot only colour but aroma andquality to young brandy. Here

were German aums containingthirty gallons of wine; Frenchbarriques and Englishhogsheads; cherry-wood buttsfrom Spanish bodegas; oldleaguer vats from Holland; oakcasks from Madeira, casks thathad reached Cape Town duringthe South African War so thatarmy officers could drink theQueen's health in their messes.Scotty said that some of theoldest casks in Cape cellars hadserved as water casks in Dutch

East India ships.

"Rest improves wine as itrevives a tired woman," Scottyinformed me. "Oak is ourgreatest friend. Cape red winesmust spend two or three yearsin oak casks; then they will goon improving in bottle. Sherrycasks from Spain are in greatdemand for they give the wine arich amber colour. Oak isresponsible for half its finalquality and the golden hue of a

good brandy. These old oakcasks were darkened by timebefore we were born." Scottyintroduced me to a cellarer whoseemed to be almost as old asthe casks. He was a Roux,brought up on a Paarl winefarm; not a scientist like Scottybut a man who had taken partin practical wine-making all hislife. Roux told me that he couldremember the phylloxera, theinsect pest that swept throughthe Cape vineyards in the

eighties of last century. Vineswilted and died and manyfarmers were ruined. If thegovernments of all the wine-producing countries had notacted promptly, wine mighthave become a rare luxury. Atthe Cape the quarantineregulations and the replantingof the vineyards withphylloxera-immune stocksproved effective. I asked Rouxwhether the Cape wines madebefore the phylloxera were finer

than any of the twentiethcentury vintages. He shook hishead. "Wine is far better today -but there were some splendidwines in my youth," hereplied.[1]

According to Roux nearly all theCape wine made early lastcentury was called "CapeMadeira". It was white, pressedfrom green grapes. Some wentto Brazil as a ration for slaves.Mauritius imported it. In

Europe it had a bad name andone epicure declared: "Capewine is earthy in taste andshould be avoided bysophisticated palates."However, the governor of St.Helena drank Cape wine andthe garrison paid sixpence apint and consumed eightygallons a day. Napoleonpreferred claret but he drankthe Cape wines during hiscaptivity. A sweet whitemuscadel, superior to the "Cape

Madeira", was sent to St.Helena for the officers.

Roux declared that the greatestCape wine he had ever tastedwas the sweet wine with amuscat flavour made fromSteen grapes in the Worcesterdistrict. This was known asOom Koos Mosterdpotjiewynand it was even better than thesweet Constantia that oncegained world fame.Mosterdpotjie was the

nickname of a farmer, JacobusFrancois Hugo, who wasextremely fond of mustard.Oom Koos started making thiswine early last century but onlyin small quantities. Apparentlythe vineyard was so favouredthat the vines flourishedwithout water and produced theamber wine that gained a firstprize at the Paris WorldExhibition in the eighteen-seventies. Dr Louis Esselen,son of the Worcester minister,

took some of this wine toEurope and gave it to thewounded during the Franco-Prussian War when he wasserving with the German fieldambulance. Crown PrinceFriedrich Wilhelm tasted it andasked for more. In this way afew cases reached Potsdamafter Esselen's return to theCape. Bismarck heard of thewine and ordered some buteven this distinguishedcustomer had to wait for

supplies.

Dr C. Louis Leipoldt knew thiswine and investigated the story.It was perfectly true. When theCrown Prince became Emperorhe called for Oom KoosMosterdpotjiewyn during hislast illness; and Sir MorrellMackenzie, the royal physician,confirmed the fact the patientwas given "a fragrant Cape winethat had been difficult toprocure". Mackenzie told

Leipoldt some years afterwardsthat the dying Emperorpreferred the Cape wine tomuch finer European wines.Leipoldt said the Worcesterwine had no close affinity to thefamous sweet Constantia. TheWorcester wine was "clean,sparkling, delicious,magnificently harmonious, nottoo sweet, grandly individual".Some of this unique wine isstill in the possession of theHugo family but I imagine the

surviving bottles are seldomopened. All wine farmerspressed their grapes on thefarms during Roux's youth andfor many years afterwards.Compare this with the modernprocedure; only one Capefarmer in five now makes hisown wine. Roux deplored thechange. The old parstyd, thetime of the vintage, was ajoyous festival in the winedistricts. Machinery crushednot only the grapes but the pips

and stalks, and this sometimesresulted in a harsh flavour thatwas absent when human feetbrought out the juice. (Scottythe chemist was inclined todisagree with this verdict butRoux went on.) Old-fashionedfarmers would examine theirvineyards in February anddecide without instruments oroutside advice when to startpressing the grapes. Theylooked at the colour of thegrapes, crushed a few between

their fingers and estimated thesugar content. Then thetrapbalies were cleaned and thewagons came up to the cellardoor loaded with baskets ofgrapes. Youths and girls, bare-legged and eager, leapt into thevats and marched round to thetune of a fiddle, singing as thejuice began to flow. Batch afterbatch of pressed grapes werepoured into the fermenting tuband the bare-footed youngpeople started dancing again as

more baskets of grapes arrived.The fermentation was violent.Roux said it was like a slowstew with the temperaturerising and the purple juicegiving off a strong and fruityaroma. Only a very new arrivalin the country would dare todrink this soet mos; alone ormixed with other wine orbrandy, it was a knock-out. Formany years, even during thefirst decade of this century,farmers employed hard labour

convicts at the parstyd and paidthe government one shilling aday for each man. Convictspicked and pressed the grapes,the warder standing by with aSchneider carbine. Farmersknew when the time had cometo draw off the juice and pour itinto hogsheads. They leftenough juice in the fermentingvat to cover the husks and thentransferred this residue to theiron pot below the copper domeof the brandy still. The wood

fire burned steadily under thepot. A trickle of liquid passedthrough the coil of brass tubing,cooled by water, and emergedfrom the spout. Some farmersmade witblits, others maturedthe sort of brandy that becameliquid sunshine.

Roux admitted candidly that alot of brandy was made that didnot approach the quality of hisfirm's twenty-year-old staff vat.Cango brandy from the

Oudtshoorn district was once afirst-class grape spirit; then itdeteriorated. "Cape smoke" wasthe roughest brandy of all andonly those who acquired thetaste could stomach the stuff.Roux remembered a Paarl wineshow in 1905 at which thejudges found the dop brandy sorevolting that they refused toaward any prizes. Table winesat that period were dry whitewine called hock; the heavysherries; a so-called sauterne

described as "between hock andsherry"; a light claret and full-bodied Burgundy type.

Groot Constantia was the winefarm Roux most admired and Ithink he was right. Many of theold literary travellers made thepilgrimage to the Constantiafarms. Bernadin St. Pierre, Ithink, was the first; and hepicked muscadel grapes in thevineyard and declared that theywere exactly like the wine he

had just drunk in the cellar.Jane Austin had a character in"Sense and Sensibility" whotreated her ailing husband withfine old Constantia. CaptainRobert Percival praised theConstantia wine vaults for theywere kept in better order thanany others he had seen.Hildagonda Duckitt enjoyedstaying at Groot Constantiawith her grand-uncle. From thecellar in those days a dooropened into a room filled with

maps and old weapons, MrCloete's own sanctuary. MrCloete imported choicevarieties of grapes, theSaschelas for eating and thebluish-red Hermitage for claret.I still go there for wine; thegovernment experts are incharge again after decades ofprivate enterprise that was not,perhaps, so successful as theCloetes were. I bring away casesof Pinotage, Shiraz andCabernet, sound wines at

reasonable prices. But always Iwish that I could have savouredjust a glass of the GrootConstantia wine described byPercival as "sweet, luscious andexcellent". I understand that asmall bin of the originalConstantia is still preserved in apalace in Spain; wine that has aglass seal on the shoulderbearing the crown andmonogram of Louis Phillipe,King of France. A bottle of thiswine found its way to

Magdalene College, Cambridge,some years ago. It was openedreverently by men who knewtheir wines and found it to be ingood condition and very sweet.If only I could have been there!

I discussed the charm of veryold wine with Scotty and Roux,for such a wine is a link withthe past. Such a wine, if it stilllives when the cork is drawn,brings before the appreciativedrinker its whole era and ends

its life in a blaze of glory. Ofcourse it may through sheer agewin higher praise than itdeserves. Yet this is anexperience, one that has seldomcome my way. Roux hadsomething memorable to sayon this subject. He had visitedMr A. J. F. du Toit on the farmNieuwe Plantasie at Paarl in1928, and had been given asmall sample of wine that hadbecome syrupy with age. It hadthe flavour of moskonfyt. Cellar

records proved that it had beenmade in 1801 by HermanusLambertus Bosman; he was amember of the family that hadowned this farm on themountain slopes from 1686until Mr du Toit bought itnearly two and a half centurieslater. [2]

Yes, those men taught me tolove wine and its mysteriousalchemy. I learnt that the dryred wines of this world are

greatly superior to the white; afact so little known in SouthAfrica that one great enterprisespent huge sums not long agotrying to teach people to takethe good red wine with theirmeat. It should be taught atschool. I entered a world ofexquisite flavours and learnt touse my nose; for a wine lackingaroma will not please thepalate. I learnt that good winescome from coarse soil onbarren hillsides; sandstone and

granite and shale; not the rich,flat clay that yields fifty tons ofgrapes to the morgen. I heardRoux speaking of old-fashionedways; old wooden vats insteadof concrete; old-fashionedhuman feet instead of aneggrapoir that breaks the pips;and I accepted Roux's wisdom. Ilearnt the meaning of bouquet;the taste of wine with finesse, awell-balanced wine, or a robustwine carrying the aroma offlowers. Strange how the grape

can give you impressions of somany different plants andflavours, from honey and nutsto spice or lemon.

I learnt that the only way toknow wine is to smell and tasteas many wines as possible.(Only a wine waiter in a greatrestaurant can follow thisadvice fully, for he has at hisdisposal the dregs of a greatnumber of bottles.) I learnt whyone vintage is very much like

another at the Cape or inAustralia; because the weatherdoes not vary much; becausethe old wine farmers chosetheir vineyard sites with suchgreat skill that almost everyyear is a good year. Above all Ilearnt that wine means farmore than pressing grapes andleaving the juice to mature.Wine has to be made. Thegrapes will give you a charmingvariety of wines but loving careis needed during the years of

maturation if these wines are toappeal to all the senses. Thecellar master makes each wine,filling up his casks, racking andfining with egg whites and ox-blood, filling the clean bottleswith the bright wine. So thearoma comes out to me inSomerset Road as I stand thereremembering old friends andbreathing in the inspiringaromas of old wines.

1 Chapter note 1: Among the

distinguished visitors to thesecellars who discussed wine withScotty was the great M. AndreL. Simon, the leadingconnoisseur and epicure of hisday. M. Simon died in 1970 atthe age of ninety-four. Writingon the phylloxera a few yearsbefore his death, M. Simondeclared: "Quality in wine is nota matter of fact but a matter ofsensual impact: the brain givesthe verdict after hearing fromthe three senses of sight, smell

and taste, which is whydifference in the quality of pre-and post-phylloxera wines mustremain a matter of personalopinion. The pre-phylloxerawines had a much longer leaseof life, which is not surprisingsince they were made from thegrapes of very old vines...whereas since the phylloxerathe grafted vines have to bereplanted every twenty ortwenty-five years."

2 Chapter note 2: Major Pietvan der Byl had in his cellar atFairfield, Caledon, a bottle ofwine laid down in 1777 by anancestor. It proved to beundrinkable. A French brandyof 1811 was still in goodcondition in recent years and an1863 Madeira was magnificent.Thirty-six bottles of nineteenthcentury Scotch whisky, hiddenby the major's father during theSouth African War, had awonderful flavour when opened

during World War II.

Index

The index below is as it was inthe original paper book but inthis e-book the page numbershave all changed and havetherefore been removed.Otherwise the original index isleft unchanged to display theauthors choice and readersshould use their program'ssearch facility to locate theitem.

Dr A. Abdurahman

Fatty Adams

Nicholas Adelaine

Africana (books)

Altona Hotel (Woodstock)

Armoires

Austrian food

Col. C. L. Bagnall Mrs A. R.

Barnes Barrel organs Bars

Bar snacks Fred BasonBlaauwberg Strand Black Horsebar

Bobotie Bodega bar BooksUnlimited Luigi Bozzolo FrankBradlow Brandy J. W. BrownGeorge Burchett Butterfish

Cafe Diane Cafe Royal Camp'sBay trams Cannon Cape sweetsCarp

Ambrose Carroll

Sydney Carter

Chairs (Cape)

Chamber of Horrors

Chemists

Christmas cards

Cigarette cards

Cigarettes

Cigars

Cinnamon

Clocks (Cape)

Cogill's Hotel

Cookery books (Cape)

Coopers

Coriander

Crabs

Crescent bar

Crown Hotel

George Cummings

Curry

Del Monico restaurant

Dentists G. De Paoli Dock RoadJames Drury Hilda DuckittDutch food

Ebony wood H. Egersdorfer H.

O. Eksteen

Firearms (antique) Fire brigade(Malay) Fireman's Alms Fishcookery books Fish marketPeter Floris Fountain HotelFour-poster beds V. FranconiFurniture (Cape) Furniture(Sandveld)

R. O. Fiisslein

Paddy Gale George HotelWarden Gerber German bandsGerman food German Town

Ginger Glass (Cape) Gloucesterbar Maurice Goodall GoodHope bar Good Hope Hotel DrA. H. Gool Grand Hotel GraveStreet Greek food GrootConstantia John HaganHanepoot hen F. W. Hawkins

G. Henderson

Alice Hewitt

Isidore Hirsch

Sir Wm. Hodges

Honey

A. O. Hoppe

Horse brasses

Horses

Hotel d'Europe

Hotels (Cape Town)

Samuel Hudson

Thomas Hudson

Diane Hugo

Jacques Hugo

J. F. Hugo

Imperial Hotel

Inkeepers

Inns (Cape Town)

International Hotel

Italian food

Maj W. Jardine Miss K. M.Jeffreys Fred Junghans

Mrs Caleb Keen Khalifa displayPrince Mirza Khan

E. P. Kitch George Koenig"Professor" LabouchereLangebaan

F. J. H. Langerman W.Langschmidt Tommy LawsonDr C. L. Leipoldt L. Leuw

Jimmy Linton Long Street Lord

Milner Hotel Luxury shop

C. S. H. MacKenzie

Donald McGill

Madeiran food

Malay choirs

Malay magic

Malay quarter

Malays

Malay wedding

Daniel Marot

Milnerton

Mrs M. Mitchell

Mrs M Moller

Mosques

Wm. Moulton

T. Mulvihal

James Barry Munnik

Mustard

Nutmegs

T. W. O'Callaghan Oldest bar(Cape Town) One-man band

Oranj ezicht Oriental HotelOrphanage (Long Street) Osaka

E. J. Paap Paraffin tins Parke'sHotel Wm. Parke PawnbrokersEdwin Payne Pepper Poole's

Hotel Postcards Princess VleiProduce market

Queen's Hotel (Dock Road)Queen of the South bar MickeyQuinn

Rathfelder's Hotel

T. D. Ravenscroft Keith RawlinsRed Lion bar Regional dishesRestaurants (Cape Town)Rogge Bay Royal Hotel

Saffron

St George's Hotel

Saldanha Bay

C. Schonegevel

Silver Tree bar

E. H. Smith

Snuff

Saul Solomon

Somerset Hotel

South-easter

"South-easter" cocktail

Stephan brothers

Stinkwood

C. Struik

Sun bar

Macdougal Sutherland

Nigel Sutherland

Swallows

Swans

Table Bay seaquake Table BayYacht Club Tattooing ThatchedTavern George Thompson H.Tillotson Tivoli TobaccoTramcars Treasure diving

Waterford Arms

Waterkant Street

Waxworks

W. Weidemann

Jimmy Weight

Wine

George Woodgate

W. E. Woods

Woodstock

Yellowwood

E. Zammit

Zulu ventriloquists

Ventriloquism

Baron Von Rapacki-Warnia

Vredehoek

Jacob Wagenaar

Back Cover

Lawrence Green continues tobuild up an international

reputation. Many of the finestBritish and Americanmagazines have published hisstories, his books haveappeared in Londen and NewYork, and his work has beentranslated into many languages.Here are some recent overseasopinions of his books:

London "Times": "Affection forhis out-of-the-way places is thesecret of Mr. Green's success...To each he brings much

personal knowledge and thehappiest knack of gatheringinformation."

"Illustrated London News":"Mr. Green is a good observer.He tells his readers he is lazy.He is not, but he fills them witha lovely sense of the hot,timeless laziness to be enjoyedamong his islands."

"The Times LiterarySupplement": "That tirelesstraveller of unfrequented sea-

lanes has strung together anecklace of islands which willlend enchantment to many anorthern escapologist'swinter discontent ... And yetthis is not merely a surface andsentimental portrait of theworld's least trampled parts. Itis rather reminiscent of thosequiet provincial museumswhere the noise of traffic diessuddenly away, and one findsoneself face to face with thelonger visits of man's

development, his adaptabilityand, stretching farther back,with the dilemmas of evolution.