Transcriber’s Notes

The advertising page including Agents, has been moved to the end
of the book.

Hyphenation has been standardised.




    THE FLOWERS AND GARDENS
    OF MADEIRA


[Illustration: LOO ROCK, FUNCHAL]


    THE FLOWERS
    AND
    GARDENS OF MADEIRA

    PAINTED BY
    ELLA DU CANE

    DESCRIBED BY
    FLORENCE DU CANE

    [Illustration]

    LONDON
    ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK
    1909




CONTENTS


    CHAPTER                                           PAGE

     I. INTRODUCTION                                              1

    II. PORTUGUESE GARDENS                                        9

   III. VILLA GARDENS TO THE WEST OF FUNCHAL                     20

    IV. VILLA GARDENS TO THE EAST OF FUNCHAL                     39

     V. VILLA GARDENS TO THE EAST OF FUNCHAL (_continued_)       54

    VI. THE PALHEIRO                                             65

   VII. CAMACHA AND THE MOUNT                                    76

  VIII. A RAMBLE IN THE HIGHER ALTITUDES                         83

    IX. A RAMBLE ALONG THE COAST                                 97

     X. CREEPERS                                                107

    XI. TREES AND SHRUBS                                        118

   XII. HISTORICAL SKETCH                                       133




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


    1. Loo Rock, Funchal             _Frontispiece_

                                        FACING PAGE

    2. A Drinking Fountain                        4

    3. Azaleas in a Portuguese Garden            14

    4. Azaleas, Quinta Ilheos                    18

    5. Datura, Quinta Vigia                      24

    6. A Group of Senecio                        26

    7. Weigandia and Daisies                     28

    8. Cypress Avenue, Quinta Stanford           30

    9. Aloes and Daisy Tree                      34

    10. Poinsettia on the Mount Road             38

    11. The Scarlet Bougainvillea                40

    12. Wistaria, Santa Luzia                    42

    13. Roses, Santa Luzia                       48

    14. Pride of Madeira and Peach Blossom       50

    15. Quinta do Til                            54

    16. On the Torrinhas Road                    64

    17. Wistaria, Quinta da Levada               76

    18. Red Aloes                                96

    19. Almond Blossom                          102

    20. Pride of Madeira and Daisies            104

    21. The Purple Bougainvillea                106

    22. Bignonia Venusta                        110

    23. Jackaranda Tree                         124

    24. A Chapel Doorway                        132




THE

FLOWERS AND GARDENS OF MADEIRA




CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION


The very name of Madeira (or island of timber, as the word signifies)
brings to the minds of most people a suggestion of luxuriant vegetation
flourishing in a damp, enervating climate. Such, indeed, was my own
mental picture of Madeira before my first visit to the island. I
expected to find every garden with the aspect of a fernery, moisture
dripping everywhere, and the hills clothed with the remains of the
primeval forests. The latter might possibly still have existed had it
not been for the zeal of the discoverers of the island in making use of
their discovery from a utilitarian point of view, and cutting clearings
for the cultivation of the rich and fertile land. In order to clear
the ground of the forests, which we are told clothed the island to its
very shores, the drastic measure of setting fire to it was resorted to:
hence the destruction (as old historians assert that the fire raged for
over two years) of all the forests on the south side of the island.

Some feeling of disappointment entered my mind when I first looked on
the Bay of Funchal. As compared to the wooded appearance the north
of the island presents, the south side, viewed from the sea, appears
to have much less vegetation. Large stretches of pine woods, it is
true, have been replanted, and though they are used for timber, and
are felled before they attain any great size, regulations exist
which oblige any person who cuts down a tree to plant another in its
place. Though I should imagine it is more than doubtful whether this
regulation is carried out to the letter, the plantations are replanted,
or the stock of timber would otherwise soon become exhausted. The
fact that the south side of any island is naturally the most suited
for cultivation has also led to the destruction of the woods, and on
approaching the island it is very soon seen that every available inch
of ground is cultivated in some form or another. The cultivation
may take the form of some cared-for garden, where trees, shrubs, and
creepers from the tropics may be flourishing side by side with more
familiar vegetation, or may merely be the little terraced patch of
ground surrounding the humblest cottage, where the harvest of the
crop--be it sugar-cane, _batata_ (sweet potato), or yam--is eagerly
looked forward to, in order to eke out the very slender means of its
habitants.

The feelings of Edward Bowdick, as described in “Excursions to Madeira
and Porto Santo in 1823,” must often have been re-echoed by many a
visitor who sees the island for the first time: “To those who have
visited the tropics nothing can be more gratifying than to find the
trees they have there dwelt on with so much pleasure, and which are
decidedly the most beautiful part of the Creation; to be reminded of
the vast solitudes, where vegetable nature seems to reign uncontrolled
and untouched; to see the bright blue sky through the delicate
pinnated leaves of the mimosa, whilst the wood strawberry at its feet
recalls the still dearer recollection of home; to gather the fallen
guavas with one hand and the blackberry with the other; to be able to
choose between the apples and cherries of Europe (which are so much
regretted) and the banana--it is this feeling which makes Madeira so
delightful, independent of its beautiful scenery and the constancy and
softness of its temperature.”

[Illustration: A DRINKING FOUNTAIN]

Any feeling of disappointment that the traveller may have experienced
from his first cursory glance at the island must surely be quickly
dispelled on landing, especially if this should be in the month of
January, when, having left the snows and frosts of Europe behind, after
travelling for four days he is basking in the almost perpetual sunshine
of so-called winter in Madeira. Lovers of flowers--and to those I most
recommend a visit to the island--will find fresh beauties even at every
turn of the street: the gorgeous-coloured creepers seem to have taken
possession everywhere. Hanging over every wall where their presence
is permitted will come tumbling some great mass of creeper, be it the
orange _Bignonia venustus_, whose clusters of surely the most brilliant
orange-coloured flower that grows completely smother the foliage; or
the scarlet, purple, or lilac bougainvillea, whose splendour will take
one’s breath away, with its dazzling mass of blossoms. The great white
trumpets of the datura, combined possibly with the flaunting
red pointsettia blossoms, will quickly show the fresh arrival the
bewildering variety of the vegetation--so much so that I cannot fail
again to sympathize with Mr. Bowdick, who, writing on the subject,
says: “The enchanting landscape which presents itself flatters the
botanist at the first view with a rich harvest, and not until he begins
to work in earnest does he foresee the labours of his task. What can be
more delightful than to see the banana and the violet on the same bank,
and the _Melia adzerach_, with its dark shining leaves, raising its
summit as high as that of its neighbour, the _Populus alba_? It is this
very gratification which occasions the perplexity, at the same time
that it confirms the opinion, that Madeira might be made the finest
experimental garden in the world, and that an interchange of the plants
of the tropical and temperate climates might be made successfully after
they had been completely naturalized there.”

Since the above was written (1823) no doubt much has been done in
the way of naturalizing plants from other countries, chiefly by the
English, who are the owners of most of the principal gardens in and
around Funchal. Many a plant and bulb from the Cape has found a new
home in Madeira, and has spread throughout the length and breadth of
the island, straying from gardens until they have now become almost
hedgerow flowers; while at a higher altitude than Funchal, plants from
England and other parts of Europe have also found a new resting-place.

It is not only to lovers of flowers, who, should they become the happy
possessors of a garden in Madeira, will find in it a never-ending
source of enjoyment, but also to those who wish to explore the natural
scenery of the island, that I heartily recommend a visit to Madeira.
Probably no other island of its size has such grand and varied
scenery. Being only some thirty-three miles long and fifteen across
even at the widest part, most people look incredulous when told of
the inaccessibleness of some of the more remote parts of the island,
picturing to themselves the possibility of seeing the whole island
in one or, at the outside, two days by means of the now ubiquitous
motor-car. These impatient travellers had better stay away from
Madeira, for their motor-cars will be of no use to them, the gradients
of the roads being too steep for any but the most powerful of cars,
even if the roads themselves were not paved with the most unlevel
cobble-stones. To anyone who has leisure to spend in exploring the
island, merely for the sake either of admiring its scenery, or making
a collection of the many ferns which adorn every nook and cranny of
the deep ravines, I can promise ample reward; always supposing that
they are sufficiently good travellers not to consider comfortable hotel
accommodation as being an essential part of their expedition. Away from
Funchal no hotels exist in Madeira; but if it is the right season of
the year, and a spell of fine weather is reasonably to be expected,
tent-life must be resorted to, or the primitive accommodation afforded
by the engineers’ huts in various districts, or rooms in the most
primitive of village inns.

Enthusiastic admirers of the scenery of Madeira have compared
its grandeur to that of the Yosemite Valley in miniature: its
mountain-peaks, it is true, only range from 4,000 to 6,000 feet, but
the abruptness with which they rise gives an impression of enormous
depth to the densely wooded ravines. In an article on Madeira written
by Mr. Frazer in 1875 it will be seen that he also compared its scenery
to some of the grandest mountain scenery in the world. Writing of an
expedition to the north side of the island, he says: “The beauty of
the scene culminated at the little hamlet of Cruzinhas, whence we
looked into a labyrinth of dark precipitous ravines, formed by the
gorges of the central group of mountains, whose peaks, fortunately
unclouded for a time, resembled in their fantastic ruggedness those of
the Dolomites; but their sides being densely wooded with the sparkling
laurel, and the ravines themselves more tortuous, we, I need hardly
say, reluctantly came to the conclusion that even the Dolomite gorges
could not equal them. There was none of the splendid rock-colouring of
the Dolomites, but for deep-wooded ravines of deep mysterious gloom,
descending from pinnacled mountains, it is a great question whether the
Tyrol must not yield to Madeira.”




CHAPTER II

PORTUGUESE GARDENS


I have often been asked whether the Portuguese have any distinctive
form of gardening, and in answer I can only say that, though there
is no attempt to compete with the grand terraced gardens of Italy or
France, or the prim conventionality of the gardens of the Dutch, still
the little well-cared-for garden of the Portuguese has a great charm of
its own. Here, in Madeira, their gardens are usually on a very small,
almost diminutive, scale, according to our ideas of a garden. In the
mother-country, where they probably surround more imposing houses, they
may attain to a larger scale, but of that I know nothing.

The love of gardening, unfortunately, seems to be dying out among the
Portuguese in Madeira, and many a garden which was formerly dear to
its owner, each plant being tended with loving hands, has now fallen
into ruin and decay. The little paths, neatly paved with small round
cobble-stones of a pleasing brownish colour, have become overgrown
and a prey to the worst pest in Madeira gardens, the coco grass, which
is enough to break the heart of any gardener once it is allowed to
get possession; its little green shoots seem to spring up in a single
night, and the labour of yesterday has to be again the work of to-day
if the neat, trim paths so necessary to any garden are to be kept free
from the invader. Or the box hedges, which were formerly the pride of
their owner, have lost their trimness and regularity from the lack
of the shears at the necessary season, and the garden only suggests
departed glories.

Luckily, a few of these gardens still remain in all their beauty, and
the pleasure their owners display in showing them speaks for itself of
their true love of gardening.

The plan of the garden is usually somewhat formal in design, and as
a rule centres in a fountain or water-tank, which serves the double
purpose of being an ornament to the garden and of supplying it with
water. The entrance to the garden is certain to be through a corridor,
with either square cement and plaster pillars, or merely stout wooden
posts, which carry the vine or creeper-clad trellis. The beds are not
each devoted to the cultivation of a separate flower, as would be the
case in an English garden, but single well-grown specimens of different
kinds of plants fill the beds. Begonias, in great variety, tall and
short, with blossoms large and small, shading from white through every
gradation of pink to deep scarlet, form a most important foundation for
every Portuguese garden; as, from their prolonged season of blooming,
some varieties seeming to be in perpetual bloom, they always provide
a note of colour. Pelargoniums, allowed to grow into tall bushes, in
due season make bright masses of colour, the velvety texture of their
petals seeming to enhance the brilliancy of their colouring. Fuchsias
in endless variety, salvias red and blue, mauve lantanas, scarlet
bouvardias, and _Linum trigynum_, with its clear yellow blossoms, help
to keep the little gardens gay through the winter months. The latter,
though commonly called _Linum_, is a synonym of _Reinwardtia trigynum_
and a native of the mountains of the East Indies.

Last, but by no means least in importance, come the sweet-smelling
plants, essential to these little miniature gardens. _Olea fragrans_,
or sweet olive, also called _Osmanthus fragrans_, must be given the
palm, as surely its insignificant little greenish-white flower is the
sweetest flower that grows, and fills the whole air with its delicious
fragrance. _Diosma ericoides_, a well-named plant--from _dios_, divine,
and _osme_, small--ought perhaps to have been given the first place, as
it will never fail at every season of the year to bring fragrance to
the garden. The tender green of its heath-like growth, when crushed,
yields a strong aromatic scent, and no Portuguese garden is complete
without its bushes of _Diosma_. If allowed to grow undisturbed, it will
make shrubs of considerable size, and in the early spring is covered
with little white starry flowers; but as it bears clipping kindly, it
is especially dear to the heart of the Portuguese gardener, who will
fashion arm-chairs, or tables, or neat round and square bushes, in the
same way as the Dutch clip their yew-trees. Rosemary also ranks high
in their affections, not only for its sweet-smelling properties, but
also because it can be subjected to the same treatment. Sweet-scented
verbenas are also favourites, and in spring the tiny white flower of
the small creeping smilax suggests the presence of orange-groves by its
almost overpowering scent.

Camellias, white and pink, single and double, are favourite flowers,
but as a rule the shrubs are subjected to drastic treatment and cut
back, so as to keep the plants within bounds and in proportion to the
size of the garden. Here and there a leafless _Magnolia conspicua_
adorns the garden with its cup-like blossoms in the early spring, and
a few other shrubs are permitted within the precincts of the garden.
_Franciscea_, with its shiny green leaves and starry blossoms, shading
from the palest grey to deep lilac, according to the time each bloom
has been fully developed, should have been included in the list of
sweet-smelling plants, as it has an almost overpoweringly strong scent.
The bottle-brush, _Melaleuca_, with its strange reddish blossoms,
showing how aptly it has been named, and the pear-scented magnolia,
with its insignificant little brownish blossoms, are all favourite
shrubs.

Various bulbous plants seem to have made a home under the shelter of
their taller-growing companions, and in February, freesias, which in
this land of flowers seed themselves, spring up in every nook and
cranny; also the unconsidered sparaxis, whose deep red and yellow
striped flowers are hardly worthy of a place. But the bright orange
tritonias and deep blue babianas are highly prized, and in May the red
amaryllis adorn most of the gardens, in company with the rosy-white
_Crinum powellei_. The delicate _Gladiolus colvillei_, known in
England as the Bride and under various other fancy names, open their
pale pink-and-white spikes of bloom early in May. A few plants of
carnations are treasured, as they are not easy to grow. Rose-trees
are given a place, many being such old-fashioned varieties that I
could not find a name for them; while the walls of the garden may
be clad with heliotrope, which seems to be in perpetual bloom, or
_Plumbago capensis_, whose clear blue blossoms cover the plant in great
profusion in late autumn and spring. In summer the yellow blossoms of
the _Allamanda Schotti_ appear, and later in the year the waxy-white
_Stephanotis floribunda_ and _Mandevilleas_ will all in turn be an
ornament to the garden, though in the winter months their glossy green
foliage will have passed unnoticed.

[Illustration: AZALEAS IN A PORTUGUESE GARDEN]

I consider that _Azalea indica_ is the plant which is most valued by
the Portuguese. In the cared-for garden it is given a most conspicuous
place, either planted in the open ground in partial shade, or more
frequently kept in pots, and tended with the greatest care. In February
and March through many an open doorway a glimpse may be caught of a
group of gay-coloured azaleas, even in little humble gardens which at
other seasons of the year are flowerless. The whole horticultural
energy of the owner of the little strip of garden has been centred in
the loving care bestowed on his few treasured azaleas. A tiny plant,
not more than a few inches in height, will be far more valued than
its overgrown neighbour, if it should happen to be some new variety,
possibly only bearing a few blossoms, but perfect in form, of immense
size, single or semi-double, of a brilliant rose-red, clear pink,
salmon colour, or pure white. The culture of azaleas does not seem to
be peculiar to the natives of Madeira, as from Oporto come numerous
sturdy little trees of all the most highly prized varieties. The effect
of well-grown specimens in pots, arranged along the stone ledge of
the garden corridor, or grouped round the stone or, more correctly
speaking, plaster seat, which generally finds a place in all these
gardens, is very pleasing, and well repays the care bestowed on the
plants all through the heat of the summer months.

A corner of the garden must be devoted to fern-growing, without which
no garden in Madeira is complete. In the gardens of the rich a little
greenhouse, or _stufa_ is considered necessary for their successful
cultivation, but in many a shady, damp corner of a humble cottage
garden have I seen splendid specimens of the commoner ferns grown
without that most disfiguring element. Perfect shelter from wind and
sun is, of course, necessary, and sometimes, where no other shelter is
available, the dense shade of a spreading Madeira cedar-tree is made
use of, and from its branches will hang fern-clad pots. Or a little
arbour is formed of that most useful of shade-giving creepers, the
native _Allegra campo_, or Happy Country. The plant is also sometimes
called Alexandrian laurel, though for what reason it is hard to
know, as it has no connection with the Laurel family, but is _Ruscus
racemorus_. The plant throws up fresh shoots every winter, which in
their early stages appear like giant asparagus, and grow and grow
until sometimes they reach fifteen or twenty feet in length before the
fresh pale green leaves develop. By the spring the young leaves have
unfurled, and provide a canopy of delicate green through the summer.
The growth of the previous year can either be cut away, or if retained,
in late spring, little greenish-white flowers will appear on the
underneath of the leaves. The plant is a native of Portugal, but may
be found in a wild state in Madeira. It is also known under the name
of _Danæ racemosus_. One of the Polypodiums, called by the Portuguese
_Feto do metre_, or Fern by the yard, seems to be first favourite,
and splendid specimens are to be seen, each frond measuring one to two
yards in length. _Gymnogrammes_, or golden ferns, are also much prized,
and the _Asparagus sprengerii_ has during the last few years found many
admirers, with its long sprays rivalling in length the _Feto do metro_.
_Adiantums_ and all the commoner ferns are given a place, according to
the taste of their owners.

I cannot close this chapter without a few words on the subject of
the neat devices made by the Portuguese out of canes or bamboo, for
training plants. In some instances it may be overdone, and one cannot
always admire rose-trees trained on to bamboo frames in the shape of
fans, crosses, or even umbrellas; but the little arched fences as a
support to lower-growing plants are used with very good effect. I have
copied the idea in England with some success for training ivy-leaved
geraniums in large pots or tubs, by planting four rather stout bamboos
or canes, two feet or more in height, in the pots, then slipping four
pieces of split cane into the hollow ends, and either forming four
arches, by inserting each end of the split length into the hollow,
or else a pagoda-like effect can be made by taking the split canes
into the middle, and then slipping all four ends through a hollow
piece of cane a couple of inches long. Side arches can be made in any
number, according to the requirements of the plant or the fancy of the
gardener, by making incisions in the stout bamboos at any distance from
the ground, and inserting the ends of the split canes. Old carnation
plants, or seedlings which bear many flower-stems, may be very
successfully and neatly supported in this way.

[Illustration: AZALEAS, QUINTA ILHEOS]

Another contrivance for the increase of their rose-trees struck me
as original, and worth mentioning, and possibly imitating, by those
who garden in a subtropical climate--this is their system of layering
rose-branches. My idea of layering carnations, shrubs, or any other
plants, had always been to cut the plant at a joint, and peg it firmly
into the ground, covering with a few inches of fine soil; but the
Madeira gardeners adopt a different system, anyway, with regard to
their roses. The branch for layering is not chosen near the ground,
but often at a height of from two to four feet. The chosen branch is
passed through the hole at the bottom of a flower-pot, or a box with a
good-sized hole in it answers the same purpose; the pot or box is then
supported at the necessary height on a tripod of sticks or bamboos. The
branch has an upward slit made in the ordinary way, and the pot is
then filled with soil. In two or three months’ time, I was assured, the
branch would be well rooted and ready to be transplanted to its fresh
quarters. It seemed a simple method of increasing rose-trees, which,
as a rule, in climates like those of Madeira, flourish much better
when grown on their own roots than grafted on to a foreign stock. The
same system appears to answer admirably for the increase of shrubs
and even trees, and is extensively adopted for creepers, especially
bougainvilleas, which do not strike readily from cuttings; so it is no
uncommon sight to see pots lodging among the branches of trees, with a
layered branch ready to form a new tree.




CHAPTER III

VILLA GARDENS TO THE WEST OF FUNCHAL


The miniature gardens described in the previous chapter, which, as a
rule, surround the more humble dwellings of the Portuguese, frequently
only cover the small piece of ground at the back of the town house,
which is either converted into the backyard and rubbish-heap, decorated
with old tins and broken china, or converted into a little paradise of
flowers, according to the temperament and taste of its owner. Apart
from these are the larger gardens surrounding the villas, or _quintas_,
on the outskirts of the town. Most of these gardens are owned by
English residents, and to them Madeira owes the introduction of many
floral treasures. The first impression of these gardens, taken from
a general point of view, is that they are lacking in form, the idea
conveyed being that the original owner of the garden made it without
any definite plan in view. For that reason they invariably lack any
sense of grandeur or repose. It is only fair to say, however, that
the landscape gardener has had many difficulties to contend with. The
natural slope of the ground is, as a rule, extremely steep, especially
in gardens situated on the east side of the town. But the ground by
no means necessarily falls away only in front of the house. It as
often as not falls to one side as well, which makes terracing a very
difficult and serious undertaking. To move earth by means of small
baskets carried on men’s backs is a sufficiently serious matter in the
East, where coolies are employed at a very low rate of wages, and are
accustomed to this method. But in Madeira, where wages are by no means
low, this procedure, which is absolutely necessary, has an important
financial aspect when laying out a garden. The result is to give the
gardens the effect of having been added to bit by bit, and many of
them are broken by slanting terraces without any particular meaning.
In common with all foreign gardens, they lack the beauty of English
turf, as the finer grasses will not withstand the heat and dryness of a
Madeira summer. Natal grass, which grows from very small tubers, is the
most common substitute for turf, as it is hardy and can be mown fairly
close. Some of the finer American grasses have been found successful,
especially for growing under large trees, which is most useful, as
nothing is so unsatisfactory as the effect of trees growing out of
would-be flower-beds. All the beauty of the trees is lost through the
outline of the stems being confused by the surrounding plants, which
in themselves are probably poor specimens, owing to the fact that they
are constantly being starved through the goodness of the soil being
absorbed by the roots of the trees.

Stone balustrades are unknown in Madeira, where cement or plaster
has to take the place of stone. Simple designs can be carried out by
this means, but, as a rule, a low wall, only about two or three feet
in height, from which rise at intervals square pillars, originally
intended to support the wooden cross-bars of the vine pergola, finishes
the terrace and gives it a very characteristic effect. These pillars
can be creeper-clad, and either stand alone or support a canopy of
wistaria, bignonia, or some other gorgeous creeper.

Any defect in the scheme of the gardens is amply atoned for by the
wealth of colour and abundance of flowers they contain, at almost all
seasons of the year.

Some of the older gardens were laid out more as pleasure-grounds, and
planted with specimen trees brought together from all parts of the New
and Old world, and in these especially the lack of good turf is keenly
felt. I am thinking of the gardens which surround the Hospicio, which
was built in 1856 by the late Empress of Brazil, in memory of her
daughter, the Princess Maria Amelia, who died in Madeira.

The garden is well cared for, and contains a good collection of trees
and flowering shrubs. Near the entrance are some very fine _Ficus
comosa_ and two splendid _Jacarandas_, which, when they are laden with
their blue blossoms, stand out splendidly against the dark evergreen
trees; also a very large Coral-tree, whose grey leafless branches are
adorned early in the year with scarlet blossoms. In the centre of the
garden are two unusually fine specimens of _Duranta_ trees, whose long
hanging racemes of orange berries cause them to be much admired all
through the winter and spring months, while in summer the branches
are laden with their blue blossoms. Dragon-trees, frangipani-trees,
judas-trees, camphor-trees, til and _Astrapea viscosa_, are all to
be found here, and a large specimen of the gorgeous flame-coloured
Flamboyant or Poinciana, may be easily recognized by its flat spreading
branches, which shed their fern-like foliage before the blossoms
appear. At all seasons of the year the garden affords a delightful
pleasaunce for the inmates of the Hospital, and can never be entirely
colourless, as the red dracenas and the bright crimson leaves of the
acalypha, which are blotches of a lighter or darker colour, afford
a welcome note of colour at all seasons of the year and a relief to
the eternal green of the evergreen trees. The walls of the garden are
clothed with bougainvilleas, wistarias, and other creepers, and the
beds contain a variety of plants, such as clerodendrons, hibiscus,
abutilons, begonias, azaleas, and roses. The grass edges to the beds
give the garden a character of its own, and might well be copied in
other Madeira gardens.

[Illustration: DATURA, QUINTA VIGIA]

On the opposite side of the same road at the top of the Augustias
Hill stands the Quinta Vigia; the name means a look-out place or
watch-post, and no doubt the villa was so called because the grounds
command a fine position, the terrace wall ending with a sheer descent
100 feet or more down to the sea. The garden has a fine view of the
harbour, the Brazen Head, the distant islands of the Desertas, and the
Loo Rock, which lies immediately below the cliff. The late Empress of
Austria spent the winter of 1860-61 at this quinta, and since
then the property has had various owners. Though the garden is now
neglected, as the villa has been uninhabited for some years, the trees
remain, and together with those belonging to the adjoining Quinta das
Augustias on the one side, and those of the Quinta Pavao on the other,
form one of the principal features of the town of Funchal. The day is
probably fast approaching when the whole of this property will fall
into the hands of an hotel company, but it is to be hoped that some
effort will be made to save the trees. From far and near the splendid
specimens of _Araucaria excelsa_ form a very important feature in
the landscape, as they have attained an immense size. I am told that
Mr. William Copeland first introduced these Norfolk Island pines to
Madeira, and planted those at Quinta Vigia. They seem to have taken
kindly to their adopted country, though not, of course, attaining
to the gigantic height of 150 feet, as they are said to do in their
native land. The garden also contains a good specimen of _Araucaria
braziliensis_. One of the largest cabbage palms in the island stands
near the entrance, and the garden is rich in rare trees. Grevilleas,
with deep orange bottle-brush-like flowers; schotia, with its deep
crimson-red blossoms; magnolias; the deciduous _Taxodium distichum_,
mango-trees, and hosts of others, adorn the grounds. Among the
shrubs are pittosperums, with their leathery grey-green leaves and
greenish-white sweet-scented blossoms; also francisceas and great
quantities of _Euphorbia fulgens_, whose long wreaths of orange-scarlet
flowers remain in beauty all through January and February. Here are to
be seen pittangas, or _Eugenia braziliensis_, the myrtles of Brazil,
with their small shiny foliage and little sweet-smelling white flowers,
resembling the common myrtle, only borne on slender stalks; the ribbed
orange-coloured fruit is not only very decorative to the shrub, but
is valued as a great delicacy among the Portuguese. _Murraya exotica_
has flowers closely resembling orange blossoms in form and fragrance,
and appears to flower in spring and autumn. The verandah of the house
is clothed in creepers, among which are _Allemanda schottii_, with
its pure yellow blossoms, the deep crimson-flowered _Combritum_;
_Thunbergia laurifolia_, with its lavender-coloured flowers; and
_Rhyncospermum jasminoides_, whose tiny white starry flowers fill the
whole air with their delicious fragrance late in April. Large
bushes of the sweet-scented diosma and a small heath are a feature of
the garden, while the great number of rose-trees are a legacy of one
of its English owners, and in spite of the fact that they are now no
longer carefully pruned, they flower in great profusion on immense
bushes in December, and again in April.

[Illustration: A GROUP OF SENECIO]

Near the entrance some large masses of purple and scarlet bougainvillea
are to be seen, and by the middle of March the great buds of the
immense and rampant-growing solandra are swelling, and in a few days
the greenish-white trumpet-shaped flowers will have opened. The beauty
of each individual blossom is short-lived: when newly opened it is
of a greenish-white, which gradually turns to a deep cream colour,
and then, alas! to a most unsightly brown. Unfortunately, the plant
shares with thunbergia its ungraceful habit of retaining its blossoms
in death, which mars the beauty of the freshly opened flowers. Large
clumps of the yellow-flowered _Senecio grandifolia_ are very effective
when the great loose heads of blossom are at their best in February.
The plant has fine foliage, and though many people despise it and
regard it as a weed, on the outskirts of the garden or hanging over
a wall it is certainly worthy of a place. Like its humble relation
the common groundsel, it has an objectionable habit of scattering its
fluffy seed to the four winds of heaven as soon as the plant is out
of flower. This, to be sure, could be avoided by cutting off the old
flower-heads as soon as they are over, but would be rather a Herculean
task in gardens where it has spread into great beds. The plant is
impatient of drought, and its foliage soon flags in the heat of the
sun unless its roots are well supplied with moisture, and it will be
discovered that its roots run far in the ground in search of it, which,
combined with its practice of seeding itself in undesirable situations,
makes it a dangerous plant to introduce unawares to a garden, as, once
established, it is there for good.

Farther to the west of the town are the gardens of Quinta Magnolia,
which cover an extensive area, largely increased by the present owner,
until they now extend down the slope of the hill to the bed of _Ribeiro
Secco_, or the Dry River. To those interested in the culture of palms
these grounds will be of great interest, as the collection is a good
one, and includes some very fine specimens, seen to great advantage,
standing on slopes of the nearest approach to turf which the island can
produce.

[Illustration: WEIGANDIA AND DAISIES]

Some of the cabbage and date palms have attained an immense size, and
are a great ornament to the landscape, and some fine groups of the
curious screw pine, _Pandanus odoratissima_; it has peculiar flat
leaves and an uncouth flower, which bears a strong resemblance to the
body of a dead rabbit hanging from the plant! The grounds command fine
views, and were laid out for the present owner by an English landscape
gardener. There is a curious cave or grotto formed out of the natural
rock, clothed with ferns and mosses, which no doubt remains cool and
damp through the summer, and forms a welcome retreat from the fierce
heat of the sun.

Close by are the grounds of Quinta Stanford, or Quinta Pitta, as it
was originally called by its first owner. The gardens have been very
much enlarged by their present owner; banana plantations have gradually
vanished, and the grounds no longer present the cramped appearance
from which they formerly suffered. New-comers to Madeira, as a rule,
express great surprise that the gardens are not larger and generally
only cover such a very small piece of ground. The value of the land
for agricultural purposes--formerly for growing vines, then, possibly,
for banana cultivation, and now for sugar-cane--is no doubt largely
responsible for this, and also the great difficulty of acquiring a
piece of ground of any considerable size in the neighbourhood of
Funchal. In many cases even one acre may be owned by several different
landlords, land being divided into incredibly small holdings.

[Illustration: CYPRESS AVENUE, QUINTA STANFORD]

In this respect the owners of Quinta Stanford are to be envied, as the
house stands well surrounded by its own ground, out of sight of the too
common unsightly _fazenda_ and its inevitable squalid cottages. From
the terrace in front of the house the view is unrivalled, comprising
a fine view of the sea and an unbroken view of the mountains behind
the town of Funchal. It is easily seen that the garden is tended
with unceasing care by its present owner, and near the entrance some
judicious massing of shrubs and flowering trees has in a very few years
well repaid the planter; some large clumps of weigandias, _Astrapea
pendiflora_, and bushes of common white marguerite daisies of mammoth
proportions give a broader effect than is usual in most Madeira
gardens. To my mind, the very greatest praise should also be given to
the owner for having planted an avenue of cypresses, almost the noblest
and grandest of all trees, especially when seen under a southern sun,
and their absence in the landscape of Madeira is keenly felt. The
Portuguese see no beauty in them, and only connect them with death, for
which reason they are scarcely ever seen except in cemeteries. From
the astonishing growth which the young trees at Quinta Stanford have
made in a few years, it is evident that the soil is very favourable
for their culture, and it seems almost incredible that more owners of
gardens, who must have seen what Italy owes to her cypresses, should
not have planted them in Madeira; but it is to be hoped that even now
others may follow the excellent example set before them at Quinta
Stanford.

The owner of the garden has much to tell of the successes and
failures he has made, not only with imported plants, in the hopes of
inducing them to find a new home in Madeira, but he journeyed far and
wide to make a collection of the native ferns, of which there are
a great quantity. Many of them, removed from the cool, damp air of
their mountain homes, pined and died a lingering death in the air of
Funchal, which was too hot and dry; and the atmosphere of a _stufa_, or
greenhouse, is unsuited to the hardier ferns.

Some interesting experiments have also been made with rock-plants,
in order to see whether it would be possible to induce any of our
favourite Alpine plants to adopt a home in warmer climes; but I fear,
though some may survive for a year or two, in the end they will grow
steadily smaller, until they dwindle away and cease to exist. So I am
afraid the making of a rock-garden in the sense which we in England
regard a rock-garden--_i.e._, an artificial arrangement of rocks,
clothed with carpets and cushions of flowering Alpine plants--will
never be possible in Madeira. Here the rock-garden must remain
as Nature intended it to be--rocks and cliffs, interspersed with
prickly-pear, agaves, cactus, some of the larger saxifrages, and such
native plants as _Echium fastuosum_.

The gardens owned by the English suffer, as a rule, somewhat severely
from the absence of their owners just at the season of the year when
they require the closest care and attention, and this may possibly
account for the failure to acclimatize many of these imported
treasures. If they could be tended with loving hands, screened from
the fiercest of the sun’s rays, given exactly the amount of water they
require, no doubt there would be many less failures; but the ignorant
Portuguese gardener probably either starves the plant by entirely
omitting to water it, especially if it is unlucky enough to be out of
reach of the hose, or else he drowns it with too much water, until the
ground surrounding it becomes a swamp: for the conditions suitable to a
rock-plant would be as unknown to him as the conditions required by a
bog-plant.

Some tree-ferns in a sheltered corner make a very good effect, and seem
likely, from the strong growth they have made in a few years, to become
very fine specimens.

On the terrace near the house are beds of begonias, roses, geraniums,
heliotropes, sweet olives, and the garden flowers common to most
Madeira gardens, while the walls are clad with a succession of
creepers; so all through the winter months the garden remains a feast
of colour.

Eighteen years ago the ground which is now the beautiful garden
of the Palace Hotel was nothing but rocky, waste ground, bare of
vegetation, except for the clumps of prickly-pear, agaves, and cacti
which take possession of all the rocky ground along the shore. For
situation the garden is unrivalled, and though the garden lacks the
care and attention which naturally are bestowed on a private garden,
the luxuriant growth, especially of the creepers, has converted the
formerly waste ground into a beautiful jungle of flowers. The garden
is devoid of any fine trees, except for the ficus trees, a few oaks,
and a stray cypress or two which surround the Dépendence, which was
formerly a private house; it stands at the very edge of the precipitous
cliff, where the unceasing roar of the surf rings in one’s ears as it
dashes almost against its very walls. In front of the main building are
some large cabbage palms, affording welcome shade and shelter, which
have made astonishingly rapid growth, as only ten years ago they were
merely items in flower-beds, and I little thought that on my second
visit to the island, some seven years later, they would have become an
important feature in the garden.

[Illustration: ALOES AND DAISY TREE]

Early in December, when the whole island is fresh and green after the
autumn rains, and presents more the aspect of spring than late autumn
or even winter, the view from the garden is surprisingly beautiful.
The cliffs have broad stretches of the brilliant red-flowered _Aloe
arborescens_, with its large rosettes of glaucous grey-green leaves,
which makes the plant always ornamental, even when it is not adorned
with its hundreds of scarlet flower spikes. Some people say it was
always indigenous to the island, and found its home in the Santa
Luzia ravine. Whether this is really the case I feel doubtful, as Mr.
Lowe, in his “Flora of Madeira,” quotes it as one of the plants which
has become naturalized, though probably originally introduced. Growing
on the cliffs the flowers show to great advantage, standing out in
sharp contrast to the deep blue sea below, but it is a great ornament
wherever it grows, whether in clusters overhanging a wall where its
rosettes of leaves overlap each other in thick tufts in endless
succession till there seems no reason why they should ever stop, or
clothing the rocky ground on the hillside among the pine-trees.

At the same season the _Franzeria artemesioides_, or daisy-trees,
as they are commonly called, are in full beauty. The best method of
treating these trees is to cut them back when they have done flowering,
as the large clusters of daisy-like flowers appear on the long shoots
of young wood. When their flowering season is over, they lose their
large grey-green leaves, so it is lucky that the tree can be so
treated, or the long bare branches would make them unsightly at other
seasons. The hedges and bushes of _Plumbago capensis_ attain to mammoth
proportions when they can escape the attention of the gardener’s
ruthless shears, and are laden with their lovely soft blue blossoms
in late November and December. Then comes a season of rest, though the
plant is seldom entirely devoid of colour, and in early spring fresh
shoots give promise of a wealth of blossom again in April and May.

Bougainvilleas have been planted with a lavish hand, but unluckily with
no regard for colour. I sometimes wondered if the Portuguese gardeners
are _all_ colour-blind, as it is by no means uncommon to see a bright
purple bougainvillea planted side by side with a scarlet one, and as
likely as not, interlaced with a flaming orange bignonia, while the
bright pink Charles Turner geranium grows happily below. In Madeira
gardens colour runs riot, and I own that the prolonged flowering
season of many of the creepers and shrubs makes the colour scheme more
difficult than it is in our English gardens.

The great clumps of _Crinum powellei_ are a remarkable feature of this
garden, when late in April the great bulbs send up their spikes of
either pure white flowers or white delicately flushed with pink. The
flowers come in six to ten in an umbel, on stems three to five feet in
height, and are very freely produced--large clumps sending up a dozen
or more flower-heads at the same time. The bulb has long narrow green
foliage, which is very ornamental. The flowers have a delicate but
somewhat sickly scent; the plant is a native of Natal, and, like others
of its compatriots, has taken kindly to the climate and soil of Madeira.

It would be impossible to enumerate all the host of other plants the
garden contains--creepers, shrubs, flowering trees, besides roses,
begonias, geraniums, heliotropes, in an almost endless list--while the
cliffs have remained a natural rock-garden. In the clefts of the rocks
giant agaves occasionally throw up their great flower-heads fifteen
feet or more in height, and then the plant, as if exhausted by the
supreme effort in the climax of its existence, dies; but it is quickly
replaced by hundreds of others, as the seed of the monster flower
has found fresh ground in every nook and cranny. Besides the agaves,
clumps of prickly-pear, or _Opuntia tuna_, with its curious succulent
growth clothed with poisonous thorns, some wild saxifrages and tufts of
_Echium fastuosum_, known as Pride of Madeira, have all found a home.

This garden is the last one of any interest on the west side of the
town, as beyond lie only a few modern villas in the worst possible
taste, with no grounds worthy of the name of a garden; but almost
opposite to the hotel in the grounds of Casa Branca for a few short
weeks in the year the avenue of _Poinsettia pulcherrima_ interspersed
with date palms and clumps of strelitzias is worth seeing. The
poinsettia blooms are almost the largest I have ever seen, measuring
quite eighteen inches in diameter from point to point of the scarlet
leaves. Like the daisy tree, the poinsettia flowers on the young wood,
and throws out fresh branches six to ten feet long, which can be cut
back in January, when the beauty of the blossoms is gone and the
foliage becomes an unsightly yellow and at length drops altogether.
When seen growing in all their luxuriant and garish splendour, it is
difficult to remember that it is the same plant that one has seen
in a weakly and attenuated form in our English stove-houses, with
one poor little flower-head at the end of a single stem imperfectly
clad with sickly foliage. Poinsettias seem to rejoice in rich soil,
and they appear to revel in the liberal feeding of the adjoining
banana plantations, which, no doubt, they deprive of a good deal of
nourishment; but they well repay their owner, as in the glow of the
western sun they provide a veritable feast of colour all through
December.

[Illustration: POINSETTIA ON THE MOUNT ROAD]




CHAPTER IV

VILLA GARDENS TO THE EAST OF FUNCHAL


On the east side of the town lie many quintas with good gardens,
especially up the very steep Caminho do Monte, or Mount Road, as it
is commonly called by the English. The road itself at some seasons of
the year is converted into a veritable garden, as its high wall is so
clothed with overhanging creepers which have strayed from the gardens
behind, that it presents more the aspect of the terrace wall of a
flower garden than that of one of the most frequented highroads of a
town. At a height of between 500 and 600 feet, just below the level
road which crosses it, which is known as the Levada da Santa Luzia,
several villas seem to vie with each other as to which can contribute
the greatest wealth of plants to decorate the walls. Possibly the best
moment to see the road is in December, when the gorgeous mass of colour
provided by the great shrubs of poinsettias hanging over the walls
of the Quinta Santa Luzia is in all its splendour. Side by side with
the scarlet blossoms come the great white trumpets of the daturas,
hanging in horizontal rows. Below, the deep rose-coloured buds of the
bougainvillea have not yet unfurled, so there is no jarring note in
the scheme of colour, as the immense bank of plumbago, with its soft
blue blossoms, harmonizes admirably. On the other side of the road, as
if determined to continue the effect of the flaming red, is a great
cluster of _Aloe arborescens_, with their spikes of red flowers--not,
it is true, as brilliant in colouring as their opposite neighbours,
the poinsettias, but very beautiful in themselves. These, with clumps
of sweet-scented geraniums, echiums, and many other plants, clothe the
walls of the garden of the Quinta da Levada. But the stream of gorgeous
colour is not yet complete, as the _Bougainvillea spectabile_, with its
brick-red blossoms, is already giving promise of glories to come in a
very short time. This plant, which covers the corridor and hangs over
an old garden well at Quinta Sant Andrea, is the finest specimen of its
kind in the island. From the immense size of its stem, it is easily
seen that the plant must be a great age, and for many years has borne
its burden of blossoms and called forth the admiration of untold
numbers of tourists through successive winters, as they make their
noisy descent in the basket sledges or running cars from the mount.

[Illustration: THE SCARLET BOUGAINVILLEA]

In a few weeks the road is turned into a golden road. The poinsettias
and aloes will have shed their blossoms, and are soon forgotten, as the
brilliant orange bignonia clothes many a wall and corridor, and in its
turn attracts all attention. By April the wistaria takes its place,
and the road becomes all mauve, as nowhere in the whole of Funchal are
there so many beautiful wistarias collected together; all along this
road they seem to have been planted with a lavish hand. Possibly the
soil is especially suited to them in this district, as I have often
heard owners of gardens in other parts of Funchal regret that they have
never been able to establish this most beautiful of all creepers in
their gardens.

It is small wonder that the sight of these flower-clad walls fills many
a visitor to the island with a longing to see the gardens they enclose.

The palm must be given to the garden of Santa Luzia, as not only does
it cover a much larger expanse of ground than any other, but the owner
takes so much individual interest in almost every plant in the garden,
that here, as it is always said flowers grow better for those who love
them, everything seems to flourish and grow at its best. Like all good
gardeners, she has not been deterred by the failure of a plant one
season or the failure to import a new treasure at the first attempt,
but has given hosts of plants a fair trial, often rewarded with success
in the end, though naturally failing in some cases. Plants have been
sent to her from all parts of the world, and the island owes many
of its flowery treasures to this garden, which was originally their
nursery and trial-ground. One of the most remarkable instances of this
is _Streptosolen Jamesonii_, originally introduced to this garden,
but which only succeeded the fourth time it was imported, and has now
spread, until there is hardly a humble cottage garden in the whole of
Funchal which is not decorated with its orange bushes in the winter
months. The garden has been much enlarged of late years, and gradually
terrace after terrace has been added to it, many of them forming a
complete little garden in themselves. From the lie of the ground in
a steep slope in two directions, and possibly from the fact that the
garden has been added to gradually, it shares the difficulty I have
described elsewhere, and had no very imposing scheme to start with.

[Illustration: WISTARIA, SANTA LUZIA]

The entrance to the garden leads one to expect a wealth of flowers in
the garden below, as a vision of pink begonias with a profusion of
blossom, tall feathery bamboos, and long hanging ferns, greets the
eye at the very door. On the terrace in front of the house stands one
of the finest wistarias. It clothes the whole wall, makes a purple
canopy to the corridor, climbs up the square pillars, and has even
taken possession of the flagstaff, so in the early days of April the
whole air is filled with its delicate bean-like scent. The beauty of
its blossoms is short-lived, and possibly for this reason is all the
more appreciated. A few short days and the heat of the sun will have
taken all the colour out of its purple tassels, the leaves will begin
to appear, and all its glory is departed. Some of the winter-flowering
creepers last in beauty so long--for weeks or almost months--such as
the bougainvilleas and _Bignonia venustus_, that if such a thing were
possible, one becomes almost wearied of their beauty, and passes them
by almost unnoticed. But with wistaria it is different: it must be
noticed and appreciated at once or not at all, as the colour changes
and fades with every passing hour.

Possibly April is the best month to visit this garden, though at no
season is it without flowers, but March, April, and May are the best
months of the year in all Madeira gardens. In some ways the autumn here
seems as though it ought to be spring. Late in September or early in
October the gardens go through the tidying up, pruning, and cutting
back, which is generally done in our English gardens in early spring,
and are made ready to reap the full benefit of the heavy autumn rains.
Here during the summer everything has been left to grow as it will: the
roses put forth long, rank, flowerless growth; the creepers grow out
of all bounds; geraniums grow “leggy,” with long leafless stems; the
heliotrope has flowered itself to death, and must be cut back in order
to make fresh growth for the coming season. The gardens by the end of
the long, dry summer must present the aspect of an overgrown jungle,
and according to the judicious or injudicious pruning in September
and October will greatly depend the failure or success of the garden
for the rest of the year. This also is the season for sowing seeds,
and probably the best moment for starting newly imported treasures;
it is most important that all these operations should be got through
early in October, as by November it is soon evident that it is not
really spring; the sap is not really rising, and through December,
January, and February, it lies more or less stagnant and dormant, so
unless seedlings and cuttings have made a good start before then,
they will grow but little during those three months. The same will
apply to plants which have been cut back; they should have made fresh
shoots before the middle of November, or they will remain more or less
bare and unsightly throughout the winter. By the time when most of
the English owners return to their gardens in late November or early
December, all traces of the necessary cutting should have vanished,
and though the garden may not be gay with flowers, it should be full
of promise of glories to come. But it seems hard to train a Portuguese
gardener to get through his pruning at this season, and to have done
with it for the time being, as, according to his ideas, pruning should
be done apparently promiscuously, at any and every season of the year,
and he is never happy without a pruning-knife in his hand, as often as
not dealing death and destruction to a plant when it is in full beauty.

In the lower part of the garden a small pond, shaded by a weeping
willow, whose parent was grown from a cutting brought from Longwood,
provides a home for the white, pink, and blue water-lilies, which,
with a large clump of papyrus, speedily remind one that one is in
subtropical regions, where no breath of winter will ever reach the
water sufficiently to bring death to the blue lilies which we in
England know as pampered flowers, and can only grow by providing them
with a warm bath, heated by artificial means.

On one of the terraces broad sheets of the mauve Virginian stock--with
us an unconsidered little flower, but here, from the sheer wealth of
its blossoms, providing a mass of colour--lead to a little Iris garden.
Only the white _Iris Florentina_ and a deep purple _Iris Germanica_
really seem to flourish, so the beds are filled with these two kinds
only. _Iris Pallida_ and many of the other beautiful varieties of
_Iris Germanica_ have refused to make a home here, so the two kinds
only have been retained, and for a few weeks in late December and
early January the little garden is all purple and white. The purple
weigandia flowers and the white of the Porto Santo daisy-trees help
to carry out the colour scheme. The walls of the little garden are
clad with the old Fortune’s yellow roses, called by some Beauty of
Glazenwood, and it is certainly one of the roses which thrive best
in Madeira, bearing its burden of yellow and pink-tipped blossoms in
the spring. On the corridor above a host of creepers flourish, but the
blossoms of the Burmese rose were new to me. Its large single blooms
open a delicate lemon colour, which gradually turns to white, and its
shiny foliage is also very ornamental; but I fear its constitution will
never stand the cold of our English winters, or even if it survived
the cold, the warmth of our summers would not be sufficient to ripen
the wood enough to make it flower. I believe it to be the same rose
which has been grown with some success on the Riviera under the name
of _Rosa grandiflora_. Near by is its fellow-countryman, the Burmese
honeysuckle, suggesting a monster form of French honeysuckle; the
foliage of its long twining branches closely resembles it, only on a
very large scale, and the white trumpets of its blossoms, instead of
being one or one and a half inches long, are from four to five inches
in length. The heavy scent is almost overpowering, coming at a season
of the year when the air seems to bring out the scent of the flowers to
such an extent that they become almost offensive.

The garden is so full of interesting trees and shrubs that it would be
a hopeless and never-ending task to attempt to enumerate them all,
but the curious trunk and roots of all that remains of a formerly
grand specimen of a Bella Sombra, or _Phytolacca dioica_, attract the
attention of all new-comers. From the uncouth root have sprung numerous
fresh branches, but they can never make a fine tree like their original
parent. As a foliage plant _Monstera deliciosa_, a native of Mexico,
makes a fine group where it can be allowed sufficient space to throw
out its long aerial roots, by which it will firmly attach itself to a
wall or bank. It must have been these strange roots which gained for
it the first part of its name, as its deeply perforated dark green
leathery leaves are no monsters, and I imagine it owes the second part
to its fruit, which I have seen described as being “succulent, with a
luscious pine-apple flavour.”

There is a very fine specimen of _Bombax_, or silk cotton tree, which
has a peculiar growth, and in June is covered with fluffy white
blossoms.

[Illustration: ROSES, SANTA LUZIA]

At again a lower level on yet another terrace is a little sunk garden,
which seems to provide a never-ending wealth of colour and blossom.
Between its box-edged beds run narrow walks, paved with flag-stones,
a welcome relief to the usual paving with little round cobble-stones,
and certainly pleasanter to walk upon, and in spring, when flowers
spring up in every direction, many a little treasure appears between
the stones. One I remember I could never regard as a weed, though many
people seemed merely to look upon it as such, was _Anamotheca cruenta_,
a tiny little bulb which bears very brilliant salmon-pink blossoms in
clusters of five or six, each with a deep crimson mark in it. It is a
native of the Cape, from where it was no doubt originally imported, and
seems to sow itself freely. The borders are devoted to large clumps
of such plants as eupatoriums, salvias, euphorbias, pelargoniums,
albizzias, justicias, begonias, crinums, and imantophyllums, while
in the centre of the garden rose-beds carpeted with freesias, and
beds of the dark purple heliotrope, pink begonias, and lilac stocks,
provide good masses of colour. Over the wall at one end of the garden,
which is the boundary wall of the garden proper, hang great bushes
of poinsettias, daturas, and large clumps of echiums, and on the top
of the low wall on the other side, large pots of azaleas, diosmas,
begonias, and ivy-leaf geraniums stand with very good effect.

Yet another of these little terrace gardens has been devoted entirely
to the culture of blue and white flowers, which is a pretty idea,
though true blue flowers are scarce. Blue salvias and solanums,
justicias and linums are a good foundation for the garden, which,
again, has paved walks, into whose cracks innumerable treasures have
sown themselves. Freesias, violets, which, though not true blue, are
too sweet to be ruthlessly weeded out, and forget-me-nots seem to
flourish between the stones. Plumbago and _Solanum crispum_ clothe the
walls on one side, and the chief treasure of the blue garden, _Echium
fastuosum_, provides a forest of great blue spikes all through March.
This plant, which is a native of Madeira, and is generally called Pride
of Madeira, finds a home among the cliffs on the seashore, but in a
cultivated state it is a much more beautiful plant. It is raised from
seed, and the plants seem to be at their best about the second year,
producing innumerable large feathery spikes of bloom of a very bright
blue. There seem to be different strains of it, as occasionally it is
merely a dingy grey, and I have never seen it so good a colour in its
wild state, nor with such large heads of bloom, so it is to be hoped
that this garden variety will be perpetuated, though it is possible
that it is merely the soil which affects its colour, in the same way
that it affects the colour of the hydrangeas. Even the little
fountain in the centre of the garden carries out the scheme of colour,
as the water reflects the deep blue sky above, and the fountain itself
is made with blue and white tiles, and makes one regret the good old
days when tiles, with their patterns in soft harmonious colourings,
were used architecturally and let into walls in panels. There are still
a few to be seen in the grounds of the Santa Clara Convent, and on the
tower of the church, showing that in former days Funchal had probably
more architectural beauty than it has to-day.

[Illustration: PRIDE OF MADEIRA AND PEACH BLOSSOM]

In April and May the garden seems a feast of flowers in whichever
direction you turn your eyes, though there are some good stretches of
mown grass to relieve the eye and give a sense of repose. The corridors
are clad with roses, among which at this moment the large single white
_Rosa lævigata_, with its shiny foliage, is one of the most beautiful.
It resembles the Macartney rose, and is often mistaken for it. The
plants are seldom entirely without bloom all through the winter, but
it is early in April that it becomes a sheet of starry blossoms. Being
only half-hardy in England, the climate of Madeira suits it admirably;
in fact, I remarked that as a rule it is the roses which are tender
in England which thrive best in Madeira. Among the best are the old
General Lamarque, which grows rampantly and seems to take care of
itself. Its great clusters of snow-white blossoms come in masses in
December, and again in April and May. Safrano, Souvenir d’un Ami,
Georges Nabonnand, Souvenir de la Malmaison, and Adam, are among the
old favourites, though some of the newer kinds of that most beautiful
class of roses--Hybrid Teas--seem to take kindly to the climate. It is
useless to attempt to grow any Hybrid Perpetuals: they may bloom fairly
well the first year, but never again. I have seen good blooms on many
of the Hybrid Teas, such as Antoine Rivoire, Madame Abel Chatenay, and
others, though never attaining to the perfection of English roses.
Possibly the pruning may be at fault, and if the trees were better
pruned, better flowers would be the result; but their rampant growth
makes them, no doubt, difficult to deal with, and it would be a serious
undertaking to cut away all the weak wood from the very large bushes,
and certainly the ordinary Portuguese gardener makes no attempt to
do so. As a rule, he merely clips the trees, shortening back all the
growth equally in the month of January. I believe by a careful system
of pruning a succession of roses might be obtained all through the
winter, and if, as soon as one crop of bloom was over, the tree was
carefully and judiciously cut, a fresh crop could be got in from six
weeks to two months.

There are several roses which are to be found in most of the gardens to
which I could never put a name: one in particular I can recall, with a
beautiful clear, bright pink blossom, touched with a deeper red on the
back of the petals, which I frequently admired and endeavoured to get
correctly named; but no one knew its name, and at last a friend said:
“Why worry about its name? We just call it ‘The most beautiful rose
that grows’”--and it seemed indeed a good name for it.




CHAPTER V

VILLA GARDENS TO THE EAST OF FUNCHAL (_continued_)


The Quinta do Til is one of the oldest villas in Funchal, and a
description of it is to be found in “Rambles in Madeira and Portugal,”
published anonymously in the early part of 1826, in which the writer
says: “The _Til_ is a villa in the Italian style, and possesses much
more architectural pretensions than any I have seen here; but it has
never been finished, and what has, bears evident symptoms of neglect.
The name comes from a remarkably fine _til_, one of the indigenous
forest trees of the island, which stands in the garden, _ingens arbos
faciemque simillima lauro_: it is, I believe, of the laurel tribe. In
the court, too, is an enormous old chestnut, the second largest in the
island.”

[Illustration: QUINTA DO TIL]

The effect of the garden never having been finished is due to the fact
that the balustrade of the lower terrace still remains carried out in
wood instead of stone, or at least cement and plaster, as was no
doubt intended originally. Possibly the death of the original owner
caused the property to change hands, and fall into the possession of
one who had no sympathy with costly garden architecture. The garden has
lost much of its Italian characteristics, as, though not mentioned in
the above description, the lower garden was formerly planted entirely
with orange-trees, and four large cypresses stood like sentinels near
the fountain. Disease killed the orange-trees, as, indeed, it has
killed almost all the orange-trees in the island, and the cypresses are
also gone, so the garden is now entirely a flower-garden. On the upper
terrace the trunk still remains of the chestnut-tree mentioned in the
above description; it must have been of gigantic proportions, as the
trunk measures many yards in girth. It now supports a single Banksia
rose-tree, which is wreathed with its little white starry blossoms
in early spring. The chestnut-tree has been replaced by a _Magnolia
grandiflora_, which has grown into an immense tree, and is now probably
one of the largest in the island. In June, when its large leathery
white blossoms expand, it fills the air, especially near sundown, with
its almost overpowering fragrance.

The upper terrace is laid out with beds, surrounded by box hedges a
foot or more in height, which are filled with an infinite variety of
well-grown plants. The garden is very sheltered, and never seems to
suffer from the strong, rough winds which those in a more exposed and
open situation feel so keenly. Here there comes no rude blast from
the east to strip the leaves off the great begonia plants, and their
brittle foliage and heavy flower-heads remain unbruised and untorn,
while many a neighbouring garden has suffered severely at the hands
of a winter storm. Each plant is a perfect specimen in itself, and is
the result of many years’ care and attention. New-comers to the island
are apt to think that in this glorious climate plants are very quickly
established, that cuttings will make large plants in at most a few
weeks, seeds will spring up in a night--in fact, that gardening is so
easy that it is small wonder that gardens filled with plants such as we
find here are to be found. Personal experience has taught me that as a
rule plants are rather slow to establish, cuttings strike slowly and
take a long time to make their roots, especially in the winter months,
and the same applies to seeds unless they are sown in early autumn.
Once established--say the second year--plants, especially creepers,
will make astonishingly rapid growth, but patience is required at
first, though well rewarded in the end.

It is evident that this garden is tended with loving hands, and all the
necessary alterations and pruning are done under the close supervision
of its owners. Their collection of begonias is a large one, and they
seem to thrive better in this garden than anywhere else in Funchal, and
appear to be in perpetual flower. Pelargoniums of the varieties known
in England as Show Pelargoniums, and not of late years much cultivated,
new favourites having ousted them from the greenhouse, are here grown
into large bushes, many of them five and six feet in height. It is only
growing freely in this way that one has any idea of the beauty of many
plants which we only know cramped in the narrow area of a six-inch pot.
In Southern Italy I remember these same varieties of pelargoniums were
grown hanging over terrace walls, and possibly were even more beautiful
than when receiving artificial support.

It would again be impossible to enumerate all the plants in this
little garden, but it brings to my mind’s eye a vision of fuchsias,
bouvardias, a beautiful deep mauve lantana, the clear yellow _Linum
trigynum_, and hosts of sweet-scented plants, such as verbenas, sweet
olives, sweet-scented geraniums, diosmas, and many others.

The lower terrace is almost entirely a rose-garden, the Til garden
having always been famous for its roses.

If a few plants of a new rose are imported, the stock can be easily
and quickly increased, as the budding of roses, or even grafting,
seems an easy matter in this country. The buds take quickly, and the
stock may be either that of _Rosa Benghalensis_, which has become
naturalized in the island, or any rose which has been proved to have
a good constitution may be utilized as a parent. As I have remarked
elsewhere, the branch which has been budded is as often as not layered
in its turn, and in a few weeks will have rooted, and can be detached
from the parent plant; there seems no reason that, once a new variety
has been proved to have taken kindly to the climate and soil, a good
stock should not be procured and a large group of the same kind planted
together, whereby a much better effect is always obtained.

A creeper-clad corridor leads to the group of trees which have given
their name to the quinta.

Just above, on the Levada da Santa Luzia, is the gate of the Quinta
Palmiera, which takes its name from the large palm-tree which rears its
head proudly and stands alone in the grounds. The path leading to the
house winds up the side of the hill, through grounds which for many
years had been out of cultivation, until the property changed hands a
short time ago; but as the ground had always been left in more or less
its wild and natural state, it suffered less than if it had been a
cultivated garden.

It is a beautiful piece of rocky ground, and on one side a group
of _Pinus pinea_, stone, or parasol pines, stand towering over a
grand cliff which rises abruptly from the river-bed. In November the
rocks are covered with the red spikes of the blossoms of the _Aloe
arborescens_, and the effect with the great pines and cypresses beyond
is one of indescribable beauty. This is the only villa which can boast
of the possession of fine cypresses, and here one realizes the ornament
they would be to the island if they were more lavishly planted. The
ground near the house is admirably suited for broad terracing, and a
splendid effect could be obtained by leaving the cypresses standing out
against the distant sea. But the rock being so very near the surface,
and the absence of soil, combined with the lack of any means of
carting, would make terracing a very serious undertaking.

The grounds contain many very fine trees--among others, a very good
specimen of the deciduous cypress, _Taxodium distichum_, which is
also called the swamp, or Mississippi cypress, as the whole valley of
the Mississippi is clothed with these trees. In summer they are of a
splendid deep emerald-green, which gradually turns to a bronze-red
colour in autumn, and by December the trees are bare.

At the back of the house there is one of the largest coral-trees in
Funchal, and a very large til-tree stands immediately in front of the
house.

Among other villas with good gardens, the Deanery, which has long been
noted for its fine collection of trees, and the Achada, cannot be
omitted. The Deanery, standing in a very sheltered situation at the
foot of the Santa Luzia ravine, has proved an admirable trial-ground
for trees, shrubs, and plants which have been collected by its present
owner. From all parts of the world rare and interesting plants have
been brought, and some have been raised from seed on the spot. The
following description of the place was written in the early part of
the year 1826 by a traveller in Madeira and Portugal, and shows that
even in its early days the garden was well cared for:

“To-day we have removed to Deanery, our country-house. The house is
a very pretty one. It has not long been built, and, in fact, only a
portion of the apartments has as yet been used for residence, but
there are more than enough for our accommodation. The situation is
delightful--scarcely a quarter of an hour’s walk from Funchal, and
enjoying, from its comparative elevation, a beautiful view down the
valley to the city (which, though so near, is scarcely visible from the
orange-trees and cypresses that embower us), and to the bay and coast
and the blue Desertas beyond. Close on the west is the Santa Luzia
ravine, the farther side of which rises to a considerable height, its
cliffs terraced, in the way I previously described, into little gardens
and vine-grounds, and crowned by the trees and trellises of the Achada
Quinta.

“Our great luxury, however, is the garden. It is one of the largest
and most beautiful in the island. A spacious vine corridor runs round
nearly its whole extent, under the green arches of which in summer, you
may either ride or walk in coolness, while the interior space forms
a ‘leafy labyrinth,’ in which trees and shrubs, flowers and fruits of
every clime are here crowded into a wilderness of shade and beauty. The
higher part of the ground, upon which stands the house, is elevated
considerably above the rest, and is divided from it by a terrace of
considerable height. This circumstance is of very happy effect for the
beauty of the garden: it in a manner doubles its extent, and multiplies
its variety; while the wall of the terrace, in some parts nearly twenty
feet high, affords an admirable field for every species of tropical
creeper, to luxuriate, as it were, at full length, and to put forth its
leaves and blossoms to the sun, in all the fearlessness which such a
climate and aspect justify.

“Above the house the ground rises another step, and the boundary of the
garden here is a wall of native rock, which is already half veiled with
the trees and trailing plants interposed to relieve its ruggedness.
The freshness of the scene is completed by the tanks, always copiously
supplied with running water, and which a little trouble might, I think,
bring into play as fountains.”

Across the ravine, but at a very much higher altitude, stands the
Achada, in a commanding position on, as its name implies, a stretch
of level ground. The road leading to it from the town, known as the
Caminho da Sao Roque, as it eventually leads to the village of that
name, is almost as steep as the Mount Road, and a very pretty view
of the town is visible between its creeper-clad walls, with the
picturesque church and tower of Santa Clara in the distance. The Achada
has also long been famous for its garden and grounds. It formerly
belonged to an English family, who probably planted most of the rare
trees, palms, and Dracænas, and the large magnolia-trees for which it
has become famous. The property then changed hands, and for some years
belonged to a Portuguese family, but is now again in English hands. The
following is by the same unknown author of the above description of the
Deanery in 1826: “The English merchants all have mansions in the city,
but they commonly live with their families in the country-houses in
the neighbourhood of it. To-day we have been returning visits, which
has taken us to some of the finest of these quintas. One of them is
the Achada. The situation is delightful: it stands on a level, the
only one in the environs, just above the city, and thus enjoys an
advantage in respect to surface possessed by no other. The grounds are
extensive, rich in fruits and in flowers, and surrounded by alleys of
vine trellises. These vine corridors, as they are called, are common
to all the gardens, and in summer, when the plant is in leaf, must be
peculiarly grateful.”

[Illustration: ON THE TORRINHAS ROAD]




CHAPTER VI

THE PALHEIRO


About an hour’s ride from the town, at a height of some 1,800 or
2,000 feet, is the Palheiro, formerly known as Palheiro de Ferreiro
(Blacksmith’s Hut), the principal country place in the neighbourhood
of Funchal, belonging to the same owner as the Quinta Santa Luzia. The
road leads past many smaller villas, whose gardens have most of them
fallen into decay, and only undergo a hurried process of tidying when
their Portuguese owner comes to spend a few weeks away from the summer
heat of Funchal.

Palheiro was not entirely laid out by its present owner, though the
grounds have been very much enlarged and improved, and the house
itself, having been destroyed by fire a few years ago, has been lately
rebuilt. Some letters from Madeira, written by J. Driver and published
in 1834, give the following interesting account of Palheiro, which in
those days belonged to the family of Carvalhal.

“The grounds of Senhor Jose de Carvalhal are the finest in the island,
possessing a level surface, which is very difficult to be met with
here to any extent. This place was recommended to us for our first
ride into the country, and after some delay in making choice of the
ponies and _burroquieros_ that we intended afterwards to patronize,
we made our way eastward out of the city. Crossing a bridge over the
deep bed of a river, we saw the ruins created by the great flood in
1803, when several hundred inhabitants were swept into the sea. We now
ascended a steep and narrow road for a distance of two or three miles,
passing several of the merchants’ houses, from all of which there is a
commanding and beautiful view of the city and the bay. The Palheiro,
lately the residence of Senhor Carvalhal, by far the richest _hidalgo_
of the island, has been confiscated by the Miguelite Government.
Senhor Carvalhal himself had some difficulty in effecting his escape;
however, he got on board an English vessel in the bay, and is now
residing in London. Upwards of 700 pipes of very choice and old wine
were at once taken from his cellars, and sent to Lisbon to be sold on
Government account. The house was ransacked, and his grounds are now
(though this is of recent occurrence) fast going to ruin. There are a
few soldiers stationed near the house to prevent any material damage,
and these are now the only persons to be seen on this once splendid
estate. The park, if we may so term it, is more in the English style
than we expected to find it; but when we came to the orange, lemon,
pomegranate and shaddock groves, which are in fine foliage and planted
in the best order, we at once saw the effect of these Southern climes.
The flower-gardens, though not abounding in that variety we might
expect, are well arranged, but begin to show more of the ‘fallen state’
of things than the other parts of the grounds. The house itself is
not on a large scale, yet it is built in good style and keeping with
the place, as well as the chapel, which is a neat edifice at a short
distance from the house. Senhor Carvalhal used to employ more than two
hundred men on the estate, for the purpose of keeping it in order.
He was a kind landlord, and much respected throughout the whole of
the island. Let us, then, hope that Portugal will soon have a fixed
Government, and that Senhor Carvalhal will return to his country, and
again have the pleasure of enjoying his estates.”

The hope here expressed was fulfilled, and the family continued to
live there until the estate changed hands and became the property of
the present owner, in 1884.

Although on first acquaintance it is true that the grounds suggest
those of an English park, possibly from the welcome presence of turf,
and also from the fact that at that high elevation the deciduous trees
are leafless throughout the winter, like Mr. Driver, we shall very soon
discover many trees and shrubs that could not be grown in even the
most southern parts of England, though many English shrubs and flowers
flourish in the warmer climate.

There are two roads leading from the outer gate to the house. The lower
road winds through a long avenue of camellia-trees, whose branches
in January and February are laden with their single, double and
semi-double blossoms, ranging in colour from pure white, through every
shade of pink, to deep red. Along the higher road, beneath the trees,
broad stretches of the deep green leaves of the _Amaryllis belladonna_
give promise of beauties to come. In summer all trace of their foliage
vanishes, and early in September the deep red stems and sheath of their
flowers begin to appear. By the end of September their blush-coloured
flowers will have developed; and so profusely do they flower that all
through October in these higher regions the land is transformed by
their rosy loveliness. Like the garden of Santa Luzia, Palheiro has
been made the trial-ground of many an imported treasure, and many
which did not flourish in the warmer and drier regions have succeeded
admirably in the cooler and damper air of the hills.

The flower-gardens certainly show no signs of the “fallen state of
things” under their present ownership, and a small enclosed garden
a short distance from the house is a perfect treasure-house; though
naturally at its best in spring and summer, it is never devoid of
flowers. Here English daffodils, pansies, and polyanthuses grow side
by side with many a bulb and plant which will just _not_ stand the
rigours of our English winters. The large-flowered violets, Princess of
Wales and other varieties, flower in their thousands from November till
April, with blooms so large that they suggest violas more than violets.
Freezias and ixias have seeded themselves in the grass slopes of this
little favoured garden, where the beds are enclosed by trim box hedges.
At the corners or angles of the beds the box is cut into all sorts of
fancy shapes, such as pyramids and ninepins. In the beds grow large
masses of the pale yellow sparaxis, anemones of every shade, single,
semi-double, or double, and the graceful little _Cineraria stellata_,
in an infinite range of soft colouring. Or a whole bed is devoted to
the deep purple _Statice_, the beautiful white _Alstrœmeria peregrina_,
or some other chosen flower which gives a definite note to the colour
scheme. In March two fine specimens of _Magnolia conspicua_ are covered
with their cup-like white and lilac blossoms, and stand out in sharp
contrast to the deep emerald-green of the _Araucaria braziliensis_,
which forms an admirable background to them, and is in itself one of
the most beautiful of all trees. Near the magnolias a large shrub of
_Cantua buxifolia_, with its bright red tube-like blossoms hanging
in graceful bunches, provides a brilliant patch of colour. The lilac
_Iris fimbriata_, with its branches of delicately veined flowers,
seems to flourish in the shade, and though its individual blossoms are
short-lived, they are so freely produced that for many weeks in the
late winter and early spring the plants remain in beauty. One could
linger for many a long hour in this peaceful spot, resting in an arbour
completely formed of the clinging, twining _Muhlenbeckia_, which has
grown into so dense a thicket that it provides welcome shade and
shelter, or wandering from one little terrace to another, examining the
endless treasures the beds contain; for, as the garden has a wealth of
flowers all the summer, there are many things which, from being out of
flower, might pass unnoticed.

Great beds of _Azalea indica_, and trees of different varieties of
mimosa, bending under the weight of their golden blossoms, remind one
that this is no English garden, while glades and banks show long vistas
of white arum lilies, as _Richardia_ or _Calla Æthiopia_ are commonly
called. Here these African lilies, which are also called lilies of the
Nile, are completely naturalized, and bloom continuously for at least
five or six months of the year.

A deep dell, shaded by mahogany and other trees, has provided a
home for the tree-ferns of Australia, New Zealand, and Africa, and
in some twelve or fourteen years they have made such astonishingly
rapid growth that the little ravine is suggestive of the celebrated
fern-tree gullies of Australia or Tasmania. The ivy, which hangs from
tree to tree in long ropes, replaces the lianes of a tropical forest,
and the banks are clothed with woodwardias and other ferns, while a
few of the rarer native wild-flowers, such as the monster buttercup,
_Ranunculus grandifolia_, and the giant fennel, have been introduced,
and are thoroughly in keeping with their wild and natural surroundings.
A path winds down the little valley following the bed of the stream,
and on emerging from the deep shade of the fern-trees, broad masses
of naturalized plants are revealed with every turn of the path. On a
grassy slope, over which tower two or three grand old stone-pines,
thousands upon thousands of golden lupins have sown themselves. A
single specimen of a plant may often hardly be regarded or considered
worthy of notice, but the same plant, when seen in great masses, may
call forth universal admiration because of the wealth of colour it
provides. In summer the agapanthus will send up innumerable heads
of clear blue flowers, while the little _Fuchsia coccinea_ seems to
flower bravely at all seasons of the year. In order to show that
even in this favoured land it is possible to have failures in the
gardens, and importations from other climes do not always succeed, some
rhododendrons, even the common _ponticum_, were pointed out to me as
never having made themselves at home, and in a shady corner hundreds of
our English primroses had been planted, but had pined away and died.

In another part of the garden the beautiful rhododendrons from Java
are being given a trial; but possibly, just as the climate is too
hot for the hardier varieties, it may prove too cold for those from
tropical regions. The variety known as _arboreum_, with its large heads
of deep crimson flowers, appreciates the climate, and has no spring
frost to cut its blossoms, which so often mars the beauty of this very
early-flowering rhododendron in England, where, for this reason, it
only succeeds in sheltered situations. The large white variety, which
is commonly called the Himalayan rhododendron, though, more correctly
speaking, it is known as _Edgeworthii_, flourishes here. It was
introduced from Sikkim to Europe in 1851. It is a shrub of somewhat
straggling growth, with large wide-open pure white flowers, sometimes
tinged with yellow or blush; they are produced in small clusters, not
more than three or four together, and diffuse an overpoweringly strong
scent.

Among new importations are a collection of Japanese cherry-trees,
including the beautiful and graceful weeping variety and some of the
double-flowered kinds, also the deep pink plums, which should all prove
a success, as in the little flower-garden described above a large
double-flowered pink peach-tree is the pride of the garden when in
blossom.

Besides these so-called fruit-trees, which are only cultivated for
their beautiful blossom, and bear no fruit, many fruit-bearing
cherries, plums, and peaches have been planted in the more prosaic part
of the garden; but the stone fruit, is only a partial success. The
peaches seem to deteriorate when the trees have been more than a few
years in the island. Possibly the pruning is at fault, or the fruit
forms and ripens too quickly; and when the plum-trees are laden with
fruit, a _leste_--the cruel, hot, scorching wind which the natives
dread in summer--will blow for a few days, and shrivel the fruit and
spoil the whole crop.

The orange-groves have vanished, destroyed by disease, which gradually
spread from Funchal throughout the island, up to the higher land. The
lack of enterprise common to all Southern races being a marked feature
among the Portuguese, no combined effort was ever made to check its
devastating progress.

The garden has no definite boundary, no unsightly garden fence, which
is the stumbling-block of so many gardens. One can wander down through
the pine woods, or up the hill, where, looking west, the whole bay and
town of Funchal lies spread out like a map before you, or, looking
east, the distant islands seem to provide a never-ending variety to
the view. Sometimes the islands look dark against the sky, which means
storms ahead; or sometimes they are wrapt in a soft haze, which means a
promise of fine weather; or the setting sun may have caught and kissed
them with her last departing rays, and made them blush a rosy-pink, and
one is tempted to linger and watch the light gradually fade; but it is
time to turn homewards, as in these Southern latitudes twilight is all
too short, and darkness descends quickly over the land.




CHAPTER VII

CAMACHA AND THE MOUNT


The road past Palheiro leads, through pine woods and long stretches
of yellow broom and golden gorse, to the little mountain village of
Camacha. Probably the village has become noted for its flowers from
the fact that many English people, in the days when travelling was
not so easy, used to make this place their summer-quarters, instead
of returning to England, as they mostly do in these days of quick
travelling.

[Illustration: WISTARIA, QUINTA DA LEVADA]

One garden I can recall which, though now neglected, still shows how
it was once well cared for. Though the turf is no longer mown, and the
box hedges have lost some of their trimness, the beds are still full
of what were once treasured plants. The rose-garden no longer sees the
knife of the pruner, but the trees grow and flower at their own sweet
will, in careless disorder. It is a very lovely disorder, but it is
always sad to see a garden once tended with the greatest care fall into
other hands, who know nothing of the art of gardening. In spring
the garden was full of jonquils and narcissi, and later on sparaxis and
ixias. Near the house great bushes of _Romneya coulteri_ were covered
with their delicate white poppy-like flowers in summer. The plant
seemed to have become thoroughly established, and threw up suckers in
all directions, even through the paths of hard-beaten earth. From the
grounds there are lovely views of the sea; and probably the garden
looks its best when the agapanthus sends up its flowers in hundreds,
and the hydrangea bushes are laden with their bright blue blossoms--as
blue as the sky above or the sea below; or, again, in October, when the
belladonna lilies are flowering in their thousands.

I think the love of gardening must have spread from these English
gardens to the native cottage gardens. The English probably encouraged
the cottagers to cultivate their plants, as from these little gardens
come all the flowers which are to be bought in Funchal. A few
flower-sellers will trudge seven long weary miles down to the town,
nearly every day of the week, with a heavy basket of flowers on their
heads, which they have collected from many a cottage garden. Naturally
these flowers are not of the best, and it is very much to be regretted
that some enterprising person does not start a shop or garden where
cut flowers and plants could be bought. Many a time have I been asked
where, in this land of flowers, good cut flowers can be procured, and
the answer has had to be “Nowhere.” Would-be purchasers have to satisfy
themselves with the contents of these baskets which are brought to the
hotel and villa doors, and their contents are far from satisfactory.
Beyond arum lilies, violets, and irises, a few indifferent daffodils
and poor roses, there is little to be got. The women will complain that
they have not a large sale for flowers, and it is in vain that I have
told them that the real reason of it is that their flowers are so poor.
Nosegays of a mixture of a dozen flowers, in as many colours, naturally
find no market; but good flowers, I feel sure, would have a large and
ready sale at reasonable prices.

The little gardens at Camacha are gay with common flowers: large bushes
of white marguerites and trees of the early-flowering red _Rhododendron
arboreum_ give colour to the village even in early spring, and in
summer it is naturally much more flowery. On every bank and hedgerow
grow bushes of hydrangeas, with their flaunting blue blossoms, while
great clumps of belladonna lilies transform the whole landscape, and
the country seems to blush a beautiful rosy-pink.

The road between the two most popular summer resorts, Camacha and the
Mount, runs through pine woods and long stretches of golden gorse to
the Pico d’Infante, from where a very fine panorama of the Bay of
Funchal is to be seen by turning aside a few yards from the road. Just
beyond this point the path strikes the Caminho do Meio, another steep
road leading down to the town. Near the eucalyptus and pine groves is
the Quinta Bom Successo, one of the most beautiful of the outlying
properties, which, from its elevation, escapes the summer heat, while
its sheltered and sunny aspect makes it a pleasant residence through
the winter months. The large grounds extend to the edge of the ravine,
and a view of surpassing loveliness is suddenly brought before one
at the very end of the terrace. The river roars and tumbles below,
and the ragged cliffs throw deep mysterious shadows, while the more
distant hills are wreathed with light transparent mists. The sides of
the cliff have been transformed into a wild garden, as many plants
have strayed from the garden proper, and have either seeded themselves
or been cast over the precipice as discarded plants, where they have
taken root and clung to life in some cranny between the stones. Within
the grounds a rocky bank is covered with great stretches of the red
_Aloe arborescens_, blue agapanthus and vast clumps of belladonnas, all
growing in careless profusion. The garden has long been noted for its
orchid-houses, where plants have been brought from all parts of the
world, and also for the pine-houses, from which hundreds of pines are
cut annually. Showing that, though at a comparatively high altitude,
the garden is sheltered and warm, two natives of Burmah, the giant
honeysuckle, which in May is wreathed with its strong-scented trumpets
and the Burmese rose, both flourish, and in a few years have made
astonishingly rapid growth.

The road to the Little Curral leads past a grove of _Mimosa
cornuta_--which is smothered with its fluffy balls of yellow blossoms
in early spring--to the valley itself. Every fresh turn of the steep
zigzag path opens out fresh views, and at every step a new fern or
little wild-flower is to be seen nestling between the damp mossy
stones. Down near the bed of the river, which tumbles over great
boulders in a roaring torrent after heavy autumn or winter rains, a
large colony of arum lilies begin to unfold their pure white flowers
in November, and continue in one unceasing succession until the late
spring or early summer. The path winds up the opposite hillside,
through a group of peasants’ huts, where yapping dogs and begging
children for a few minutes mar the harmony and repose of the scene,
and then again the path enters another silent valley, until the little
village of the Mount is reached. A colony of countless little quintas,
which have sprung up under the shelter and protection of the Church
of Nossa Senhora do Monte, has of late years become a more favourite
summer resort than Camacha. The air may not be quite so pure and cool,
but the proximity of the town and the convenience of the funicular
railway are, no doubt, responsible for its growing popularity.

The principal villa, the Quinta do Monte, formerly owned by an
Englishman, has large grounds, planted with many rare trees and shrubs.
The property has changed hands; the house is no longer inhabited, and
the garden is falling into decay. As the grounds were always more
pleasure-grounds than actual flower-gardens, it has suffered less than
a smaller garden, which misses the personal care of its owner. The
camellia-trees are an immense size, and have out-grown the little
garden centring in a sundial, in which they were, no doubt, originally
planted as small shrubs in beds with neat box hedges. Here are to be
found tree-ferns, long rows of agapanthus, and a great plantation
of mimosa-trees, which is quite a feature in the landscape in early
spring, when they are laden with their balls of yellow blossoms.

In every direction in this district large clumps of the foliage of the
belladonna lilies are to be seen in winter, on every bank, in every
little garden: giving promise of their glories to come in the waning
summer months. But in the grounds of Quinta da Cova they are probably
to be seen at their very best, as here they have been more collected
together, and broad stretches of them carpet the ground in thousands,
beneath the chestnut-trees. I remember once hearing a traveller remark,
who had passed through Madeira in August, on his way to the Cape, and
returned again early in October, that when he first saw the island “it
was all blue,” alluding to the effect of the agapanthus and hydrangea
blooms, and when he returned it had changed, and was “all pink,” from
the masses of belladonna lilies.




CHAPTER VIII

A RAMBLE IN THE HIGHER ALTITUDES


The Church of Nossa Senhora do Monte is the starting-point of many an
expedition made by those who have a wish to see more of the beauties
of the island than can be done within the restricted area of Funchal.
Should the Metade Valley be the point chosen, or the bleak Pico Ariero,
with its enchanting views, or should the traveller be bent on a longer
tour, and be proposing to make the little village of Santa Anna his
headquarters for seeing the beautiful scenery of the north side of the
island, the road up to a height of some 4,500 feet will be the same.
Gradually the steep path winds its way through the fir woods, which in
the early morning while the dew is still on them, exude a delicious
aromatic scent, and the bushes of the little red _Fuchsia coccinea_
and _Rosa Benghalensis_, with its small double pink flowers, and the
clumps of belladonnas on the banks, which at first give the landscape
the appearance of a ruined garden, are left behind, and the vegetation
changes completely.

The pine woods consist chiefly of plantations of _Pinus maritima_,
or _pinaster_, which have been planted for practical purposes, and
have replaced the more beautiful chestnut woods, which were wantonly
destroyed. These pines, being of rapid growth, are soon cut down, and
provide timber for firewood, garden and vine trellises--in fact, are
strictly utilitarian. The roots and stumps are burnt on the ground, and
then possibly a crop of some sort is sown before the fresh pine seed
is put in. This system has been the means of saving some of the more
valuable and beautiful native trees, which at one time were ruthlessly
felled; and even the forests in the interior, so necessary for the
preservation of the water-sources, were threatened with destruction.
Interspersed with the plantations of pine-trees are broad stretches
of the common broom, which is sown extensively on the mountain-sides,
either for the purpose of being cut down for firing, or to be burnt
on the spot every five or seven years to fertilize the ground, and
cause it to produce a single crop of wheat or batatas. The twigs and
more slender branches are commonly used for making into faggots, and
numbers of country-people, especially young girls and children, within
reach of Funchal gain a scanty and hard-earned living by bringing daily
into the town, often from great distances, bundles of _giesta_, as the
natives call it, to be used for heating ovens and igniting the larger
firewood. Doubtless the species was originally introduced into Madeira,
though it is proved to have existed there for over 150 years, and now
is so extensively diffused that it appears to be perfectly naturalized;
in spring it floods the mountain-sides for miles with seas of its
golden blossoms. The very fine and delicate basket-work peculiar to
Madeira is manufactured from the slender peeled twigs of the broom.

Gradually ascending to the higher altitude, those who can tear their
eyes away from the beautiful view of the Bay of Funchal and the
curiously shaped hills above the villages of Santo Antonio and Santo
Amaro will notice that by the roadside, in the moisture exuding from
between the rocks, the innumerable ferns and the common foxglove,
which at a lower altitude were so abundant, will gradually vanish.
The myrtles, formerly so fine, are now unfortunately becoming almost
scarce, owing to their injudicious destruction for ornamenting churches
and adorning religious processions, after a height of 3,000 feet
are no longer to be seen, and the country gradually becomes barren
of vegetation. Rocks of basalt and red tufa appear, and the long
sweeps of turf are only broken by large bushes of a heath, called, I
believe, _Erica scoparia_, which, from being constantly eaten off by
the mountain sheep and goats, gets a curiously distorted and stunted
growth, though they eventually attain to a large size, and have such
venerable-looking stems that they are suggestive of the dwarfed trees
of the Japanese. Then comes the region of the _Vaccinium Maderense_, or
_padifolium_, which varies in appearance according to the season. In
winter it has crimson foliage, then it bears waxy bell-shaped blossoms,
and in autumn is covered with almost black berries. From the situation
in which it grows, exposed to the full blast of the north wind which
sweeps over that stretch of country, it also has a bent and distorted
appearance; and the dampness of the air--as, more often than not, at
this altitude a white mist envelops the land--causes its stems to be
covered with the _Usnea_ lichen, which waves from one tree to another
like masses of long green hair.

A turn in the road, at an altitude of some 4,800 feet, just beyond
the rest-house at the bleak spot known as the Poizo, reveals a
grand chain of mountains, with deep ravines running down to the sea.
The traveller’s path will wind, in zigzag fashion, down the steep
mountain-side, and gradually the _Vaccinium_ will be left behind and
the beautiful ravine of Ribeiro Frio is entered--thickly wooded with
many varieties of the laurel tribe, which in their turn have their
stems clothed with lichen.

To collectors of wild-flowers and ferns these mountain expeditions
are a never-ending joy, as, according to the different seasons of the
year, innumerable treasures are to be found. A ramble along the many
_levadas_, or water-courses, will well repay the collector, as at
all seasons, ferns, mosses, lichens, lycopodiums, and hosts of other
moisture-loving plants, are to be found; while in June and July, when
the wild-flowers are in all their glory, many rare and interesting
plants will appear. The levada which runs through the Metade Valley was
formerly the home of the _Orchis foliosa_, the orchis known everywhere
as peculiar to Madeira, and its bright purple spikes brightened the
dense masses of green. Of late years the plant has become scarce,
probably ruthlessly uprooted by passers-by, or in order to be offered
for sale in the town of Funchal. In describing this beautiful ravine,
over which towers Pico Ruivo and the Torres, both some 6,000 feet in
height, Miss Taylor, who was a great authority on native ferns, says:
“Many rare and beautiful ferns will be found, growing both close to the
running water and on the mountain-sides above the levada. _Trichomanes
radicans_ and _Hymenophyllum Tunbridgense_ grow in great abundance;
also _Acrostichum squamosum_, _Pteris arguta_, _Asplenium umbrosum_,
_Woodwardia radicans_, and numberless others. Lichens of every sort
and mosses--_Lycopodium suberectum_ and _Selaginella Kraussiana_--seem
to fill up every available space and crevice, and engage the hands and
delight the mind of the collector.”

The more arid path to Ariero will not provide such treasures for the
collector, who must content himself with the views of surpassing
loveliness down to the deep, wooded ravines, which as the shadows begin
to lengthen after midday, grow more mysterious-looking, getting grander
and more beautiful as their deep blue turns to purple; and gradually
the haze, which is certain to come before nightfall, fills the valleys
and blots out the sea beyond. The rare orchis _Goodyera macrophylla_
is said to be found in this district, with its beautiful pure white
spikes, and here and there thickets of a low-growing indigenous,
mountain ash, which in September bears fragrant white flowers, to be
followed by brilliant scarlet berries in early winter.

From just beyond the rest-house at the Poizo a long turf ride of some
four or five miles leads to the Lamaceiros, and is a welcome relief
after clattering over the eternal cobble-stones. A long round, over
country where seas of golden gorse, when it is in bloom, delight the
eye and nose and make a beautiful foreground to the enchanting views,
leads eventually past wooded glens, either over the Portella down to
the village of Santa Cruz, or through the village of Camacha back to
Funchal. A levada near the reservoir at the Pico d’Assoma is again rich
in ferns, and Miss Taylor says: “The lover of ferns will perfectly
revel in the wealth of lovely _Hymenophyllums_ which clothe the stems
of old laurels: here and there a mass of rock, perfectly cushioned with
_Hymenophyllum Tunbridgense_; here and there a carpet of _Hymenophyllum
Wilsoni_ and _Davallia Canariensis_ and _Polypodium vulgare_ growing
in masses on the trees. _Nephrodium Oreopteris_ here grows in great
abundance, the one place besides Pico Canario where it is to be found
in Madeira. _Nephrodium Fraenesecii_ and _Nephrodium dilatatum_ here
grow very large and perfect. The levada is fringed with _Asplenium
monanthemum_, _Cystopteris fragilis_, and countless treasures. In July
the _Orchis foliosa_ blooms in great spikes of bright mauve. In this
neighbourhood _Acrostichum squamosum_ and _Trichomanes radicans_ grow
well.”

Probably nearly every levada in the island would repay exploring, but
some are very inaccessible and require a steady head. One of the most
beautiful is certainly that of the Fajao dos Vinhaticos, which could
disappoint no one, and can be seen by staying at the village of Santa
Anna, or, better still, at the engineer’s house on the levada itself.

On the north side of the island the vegetation is mostly the same. The
rough and precipitous path which winds through the Boa Ventura Valley
up to the Torrinhas Pass is clothed mostly with trees belonging to
the laurel tribe. From the Pass itself some of the grandest views in
the island are to be seen. The grandeur of the rocks and the splendid
vegetation, the profusion of ferns and wild-flowers, hare’s-foot ferns
hanging in long fringes from the stems of the evergreen trees, the
variety of lichens, some of a deep orange colour, make the long ascent
an endless source of delight to lovers of Nature, and, provided the
weather is fine and the valleys free of mist, I know no more beautiful
expedition.

If the traveller is returning to Funchal, he will gradually descend
from this high altitude (close on 6,000 feet), down past the Church
of Nossa Senhora do Livramento (Our Lady of Deliverance), through the
valley of the Grand Curral, up the steep zigzag road opposite, and
back to Funchal through the village of Santo Antonio. The region of
the laurels and ferns, dripping with moisture, is left behind when
the traveller turns his back at the top of the pass on the beautiful
Boa Ventura Valley, and he will gradually return to the region of the
heaths, pine woods, broom, and gorse.

When the village of Santo Antonio is reached, a marked change in the
vegetation will be noticed. There are many Spanish chestnut-trees,
whose fruit, being very popular with the natives, is sold in bushels
in the town in autumn and early winter; and, the district being a
very warm one, on the banks and in the hedgerows by the wayside the
prickly-pear, agaves, and cactus will begin to appear, while large
clumps of pelargoniums, sweet-scented geraniums, and lantanas have
strayed from gardens and sown themselves in every direction. In April
the beautiful _Ornithogalum Arabicum_, bearing its white starry
blossoms with jet-black centres, may be seen growing wild, and I have
been told that the pure white _Lilium candidum_ is to be found in a
wild state, though I have never come across it myself.

Between Santo Antonio and Santo Amaro the earliest strawberries
which are brought into the market in Funchal are grown, making their
appearance in favourable seasons late in February, though at that
season they have little flavour, and generally only find favour in the
eyes of the tourists, who are attracted by their inviting appearance as
they are offered for sale in little fancy baskets. If some enterprising
person would make some experiments with growing the plants on rather
steep banks or slopes, as I have seen done elsewhere in temperate
climates, in order that the plants may get the full benefit of the
sun, I feel almost certain that far better early strawberries could be
obtained: the sun would draw out that watery flavour from which they
suffer. But it is always hard to induce a cultivator of any nationality
to try new methods, and in vain one preaches, and is only met with
pitying looks of incredulity and the remark that the crop, whatever it
happen to be, has always been grown in the same way, however bad a way
it may be, by the present owner, his father and his grandfather before
him, and what was good enough for them is good enough for him.

There are more vines grown here than in any other neighbourhood,
though, in consequence of the numerous attacks of disease--two
scourges having several times threatened to completely destroy the
vineyards: the dreaded Phylloxera insect, which attacks the roots of
the vines, and also _Oïdium Tuckeri_, which settles on the leaves and
fruit--together with the depression in the wine trade, vines are far
less grown than formerly. Being trained over corridors--or _latadas_,
as they are called in Madeira, _pergolas_, as they would be called
in Italy--the effect is not only very pretty, but seems practical,
as, being at a sufficient height from the ground, a labourer can work
underneath them, and it is not uncommon to see another crop growing
between the vines, though this practice of overstocking the ground is
no doubt responsible for the failure of many a crop. The vines are
pruned in February, though not to any great extent, and in April start
into growth, and soon clothe the corridors with fresh young leaves
and long twining tendrils. The flowers come in May, and by August
the vines are laden with fruit ready for the harvest, which in early
seasons begins in the lower regions late in August and continues,
according to the altitude, until October.

The cultivation of vines and bananas, which were also grown at one
time to some considerable extent, has been almost entirely replaced by
that of sugar-cane, which, in consequence of the current rate fixed by
the Government being a very high one, is at the present time a very
profitable crop.

The cultivation of sugar-cane in the island dates from very early
times, as in Cadamosto’s Voyages he writes that he visited the island
in 1445, only twenty-six years after its discovery, and says: “Zargo
caused much sugar-cane to be planted in the island, which has done
well, and from which they have made sugar.” Mr. Yate Johnson says:
“The cane is thought to have been introduced from Sicily about 1425,
at the instance of Prince Henry. The first plantation was made on the
site of the Cathedral, and did so well that the cane spread to other
localities. Matters proceeded so rapidly in those days that in 1453 a
mill was erected for crushing the canes by means of water-power....
Prince Henry was a good business man, and knew what he was about
in making a bargain, for it was stipulated that he should receive
one-third of all the sugar produced. Another stipulation was that the
mill was to be placed where it would not be an annoyance to others,
a regulation which, it is to be regretted, is not enforced at the
present day. It is not known where this first mill was built, but it is
more likely to have been in Funchal than anywhere else.” By 1498 the
production of sugar is said to have increased to a very large extent,
and then came troubles in the trade. The introduction of the cane to
the West Indies and its extensive cultivation there caused increasing
competition in European markets, and led to a heavy fall in price;
but notwithstanding this, the cane continued to increase in Madeira,
and by the end of the fifteenth century a large number of slaves were
employed, both as labourers on the land and in the mills, which by now
had increased in number to 120, on the southern side of the island.

Early in the sixteenth century disease came, in the form of a grub
which eats into the cane, and the plantations suffered severely
from its ravages, though many attempts were made to check its
depredations. Possibly this, combined with the abundant production in
the West Indies, caused the sugar-growing in Madeira to become so
unprofitable that the mills dwindled down to only three in number,
and the cultivation of vines for a time reigned supreme. This, in its
turn, received so severe a check through the grape diseases in 1852,
that the cane was once more restored to favour and again extensively
planted. The cultivation increased, and new crushing machinery was
imported from England; steam-power replaced the more primitive methods
of water-power, or working the mills with bullocks only. After the
revival, for a time the cane was only used for its juice, to be
distilled into spirit (_aquardente_), but gradually, new sugar-making
machinery having been imported, its manufacture was resumed and
continued, until it has now reached the vast amount of about 2,500 tons
per annum.

Different kinds of cane have been introduced, and if the cultivation is
to be continued at the present enormous extent, artificial manures will
have to be largely employed to prevent the soil becoming exhausted.
The cane--I may say luckily--cannot be grown above an altitude of
about 1,700 feet, or it would seem as if there would be no end to its
cultivation, which by no means adds to the beauty of the island, and to
my mind is an unsightly crop.

[Illustration: RED ALOES]




CHAPTER IX

A RAMBLE ALONG THE COAST


The vegetation along the seashore is naturally very different to that
at a higher altitude. Wherever it has been found possible, the ground
has been brought into cultivation, even up to a height of 2,500 feet.
Pressed by the ever-increasing population, and the consequent need of
more food for more mouths, the country-people are continually bringing
into cultivation fresh patches of ground. No minute piece seems to be
wasted, and many an odd corner and neglected patch which, from its
steepness or the poor quality of soil, escaped cultivation in years
gone by, being rejected as incapable of bringing any return for the
vast labour which has to be applied to it in the first instance, has
been, as it were, pressed into service of late years. The larger
expanses of cultivated ground have been utilized for the profitable and
ever-increasing sugar crop, and these tiny terraces, when the stones
have been dug out or the rock blasted, and walls built to support
possibly only a few square yards of the levelled ground, will grow a
scanty crop of some article of food. Thus bit by bit the cultivation
has crept up the hills, and has done much to mar the beauty of the
island. The peasants are very primitive in their modes of cultivation,
and as long as the ground receives occasional irrigation during the
hot, dry months, and the surface is roughly broken with their native
hoe, it is all they consider necessary, and are strongly averse to
every kind of innovation. It is small wonder that even in such a
climate the crop suffers; the earth becomes impoverished and the
vegetables produced are of a most inferior quality. Their principal
root crops are the ordinary potato; the sweet potato (_Batata edulis_),
a plant of the convolvulus family; and the _inhame_, a kind of yam. The
sweet potato is one of their staple articles of food, and the native
appears to consume an inordinately large quantity of _batatas_. The
tuberous roots yield three or even four crops annually. In situations
where the ground can be kept constantly so supplied with moisture as
to be in a swampy condition, the _inhame_ (_Colocaria antiquorum_) is
grown even up to a very high elevation, some 2,500 feet. It is quite
different to the West Indian yam, and belongs to the arum family;
indeed, its leaves at once suggest those of arum lilies, only the
roots are edible. These are another most important article of food.
Other crops are haricot beans, the ripe seeds of our French beans,
whose young pods are nearly always in season; but with the Portuguese
it is the ripe seeds (_feijoens_) which are most valued for making
their _sopas_, or vegetable soups. Lupines, lentils, and the chickpea
(the _grao de bico_ of the Portuguese), broadbeans, and peas, come
into market in the winter months, but are of very poor quality and
singularly tasteless, even when gathered young, which it is very
difficult to persuade the peasant cultivator to do. That they need
not be poor in quality and flavour, if more pains were taken in their
cultivation, is proved by the fact that in private gardens where
fresh seed is imported from England or America excellent peas can be
grown. Another most important article of food is derived from several
varieties of the pumpkin tribe, and in summer over every trellis,
and even on the straw roofs of the peasants’ huts, the gourd-bearing
plants are trained, and their _aboboras_, as they are called, are
carefully tended. Mr. Lowe writes: “For at least six months in the
year (August to January) the _aboboras_ constitute almost one-third
of the daily nourishment of all classes; and from their facility of
combination by boiling with fatty substances, together with their
large supply of saccharine, besides their farinaceous material, afford
a most nutritious food, evinced by the surprising muscular power
of the Madeiran peasantry.” The pearshaped, green, wrinkled fruit
called pepinella (_Sechium edule_), or chou-chou by the English, is
not unlike a cucumber, and yields a constant supply in the winter
months. Spinach, cabbages, and cauliflowers are, I believe, only grown
for the requirements of the English, and to provision the passing
ships, and with these the list of vegetables closes--and somehow is
a disappointing one--and many an English person longs for the fresh
vegetables from a home-garden.

Nor is the list of fruits a long one. The orange-tree has practically
died out. The apathy of the native made him consider the task of
fighting the disease called scale, induced by an insect, too arduous
a one, as constant washing of the trees is necessary to prevent
its ravages; and he remained content to see all the orange-groves
disappear, and the fruit is now imported from the Azores, Portugal,
and even South America. At one time, we are told, the vast banana
plantations gave quite a tropical aspect to the gardens about Funchal;
they have been largely replaced of late years by sugar-cane, and are no
longer so extensively cultivated as the facilities due to cold storage
on ships flooded the European market with bananas of the West Indies.
Several varieties are grown, but the fruit of the silver banana, a tall
growing kind, is most prized and fetches a higher price than that of
the dwarf _Musa Cavendishii_. In an old account of Madeira, printed in
Astley’s “General Collection of Voyages and Travels,” the following
curious account of the plant appears: “The banana is in singular esteem
and even veneration, being reckoned for its deliciousness the forbidden
fruit. To confirm this surmise they allege the size of its leaves. It
is considered almost a crime to cut this fruit with a knife, because
after dissection it gives a faint similitude of a crucifix; and this
they say is to wound Christ’s sacred image.”

[Illustration: ALMOND BLOSSOM]

Sufficient lemons and citrons are grown to supply the requirements of
the island. The custard apple, _Anona cherimolia_, ranks high among the
island fruits, and is hailed with delight when it first appears in the
market in late autumn. In common with the guava, it was originally
imported from America; while the mango, whose fruit leaves room for
much improvement, came from India. Guavas are extensively used, either
uncooked, stewed, or possibly in the most favourite form, made into
a clear, transparent jelly. The loquat bears abundantly, and as it
is very readily increased from seed, has become a very common tree,
though I do not consider the fruit to be as good as those of the
Italian loquats. The pittanga, mentioned previously, being the fruit
of a kind of myrtle, _Eugenia Braziliensis_, and the avocado pear, an
insipid fruit, generally eaten with pepper and salt, are both, to my
mind, fruits which require an acquired taste in order to appreciate
them. Among European fruits, the best is possibly the fig, of which
there are several varieties, the most popular having a nearly black
fruit. The trees, which grow mostly near the seashore, assume curiously
distorted and stunted shapes, and spring from the clefts in the rocks,
often overhanging the sea. They are particularly noticeable on the
road between Funchal and the seaside village of Camara do Lobos.
Granadillos, the fruit of different varieties of passion-flowers, some
having purple fruit, others orange, suggest an exaggerated gooseberry,
as the fruit when cut has much the same appearance, with large
seeds embedded in a pulpy consistency. The insipid fruit of the
common cactus, or prickly-pear, is much relished by the natives in
hot weather, who, I was assured, gather it in the early morning, and
before handling it, roll it about under their callous feet in a tub
of water to get rid of the spines. The Cape gooseberry, the fruit of
_Physalis Peruviana_, is prized for making preserves, and the plant has
become naturalized. Many of our European fruits are cultivated, but
produce fruit of a very inferior quality, the trees being seldom, if
ever, pruned, and receiving little attention; but apples, pears, plums,
apricots, and peaches, all come into the market in the course of the
summer and autumn, while strawberries continue in bearing from the end
of March till September.

[Illustration: PRIDE OF MADEIRA AND DAISIES]

The fruit-trees are more valued for the beauty of their blossoms than
their fruit by the English as a rule; and in spring, when the peach and
apricot trees are laden with their pink blossoms, the country near the
seashore, especially on the east side of the town, is very beautiful.
The rocky nature of the ground in many places has made cultivation
impossible, and stretches remain where the natural rock, covered
with crustaceous lichens, appears. The shallow soil only provides a
home for cactuses, which grow to an immense size; but now and then a
peach-tree or a little colony of almond-trees have found sufficient
soil in which to get a hold. The trees may be twisted and distorted,
storm-bent by the strong winds that sweep in from the Atlantic, but
for that reason are all the more picturesque; while here and there a
group of stone-pines, or a group of cypresses--sentinels, guarding
a little silent graveyard--give variety to the landscape, and stand
out in admirable contrast to the deep blue sea below. Such plants
as an occasional _Euphorbia piscatoria_, a cheiranthus, a lavender,
(_Lavandula pinnata_), the Madeira stock (_Mathiola Maderensis_),
some of the sedums, _Sonchus pinnatus_, of the sow-thistle family,
a native of the island, and a long list of other more or less
insignificant wild-flowers, may all be noticed. But by far the most
beautiful and showy is the _Echium fastuosum_, pride of Madeira, which
is to be seen on the cliffs along the New Road, though never with
as large and perfect heads of bloom, or so deep in colour, as when
cultivated. Another variety, _candicans_, has flowers of a darker
blue, but is only to be found in the hills. Among this rough ground,
and unfortunately in many a ravine and wall which was formerly
clad with ferns and plants of a far more interesting nature, the
rank-growing _Eupatorium adenophorum_ seems to have taken complete
possession, and threatens to become a very serious eyesore and enemy to
the natural vegetation. The Portuguese have christened it _Abundancia_,
and it is well named, as there seems to be no end to its abundance;
its dirty-coloured fluffy heads of blossom spread their seed in all
directions. It was an evil day when it was first introduced to the
island as a treasure, carefully installed in a pot. Other horticultural
pests have been introduced in the same way, such as the rosy purple
_Oxalis venusta_, whose little flowers are pretty enough in their way,
but its far-spreading roots have become a most troublesome weed in
cultivated ground; and the yellow double-flowered _Oxalis cornuta_ is
even worse, taking complete possession in some places of any sort of
grass-land. The dreaded coco, a grass growing from a tiny bulb, which
throws out long and far-reaching roots, runs in the ground, till once
thoroughly established, there is no end to it; this also was imported,
probably accidentally, not much more than twenty years ago. The most
serious of all pests in the island, the tiny black ants, the despair
of house-keepers, fruit-growers and gardeners alike, were also imported
from Brazil, and have gradually spread from the lower to the higher
altitudes, until now I believe there is scarcely a district left in the
island which is free from their ravages.

[Illustration: THE PURPLE BOUGAINVILLEA]




CHAPTER X

CREEPERS


The year opens in Madeira with a wealth of blossom, as in the month of
January the bougainvilleas, for which Madeira is so justly famous, will
be in all their flaunting beauty. It is true that the lilac-coloured
_Bougainvillea glabra_ will have already shed most of its blossoms, as
it is a summer-flowering creeper, but it is replaced by so many other
varieties that its pale beauty is forgotten. The brick-red coloured
_Bougainvillea spectabilis_--which must have the full force of the sun
upon it in order to bring out its colour to the best advantage, being
apt otherwise to look a false colour--when grown over pergolas, or
corridors as they are called in Madeira, or allowed to wander at will
over a wall or bank, provides a gorgeous mass of colour. I had seen
bougainvilleas in other countries, but only grown against walls, and
closely cropped by shears, in order that the wood might be sufficiently
ripened by the heat of the summer to insure its wealth of blossoms.
Here such care is not necessary, and the natural beauty of the plant
can be seen to full advantage where it has escaped the ruthless shears
of the Portuguese gardener. Branches of blossom, ten, fifteen, or
even twenty feet long, show the strength with which the plant grows;
in fact, many a splendid specimen has had to be sacrificed, for fear
it should undermine a terrace wall or shake the very foundations of a
house.

To the landscape gardener who is fastidious as to the scheme of
colouring in his garden, the placing of all the varieties of
bougainvillea (called after the French navigator, De Bougainville)
forms one of his chief difficulties. Each in itself seems too beautiful
to be discarded; but, unless the garden is of considerable extent, I
would recommend the owner of the garden to harden his heart and make
his choice of the colour he prefers and stick to it, only growing the
one variety in some great mass, be it as the gorgeous canopy of his
corridor, or clothing his garden-wall.

Many persons give the palm for beauty to the deep magenta variety,
_speciosa_, as it stands alone for colour. In all the kingdom of
flowers I know no other blossom of the same tone of colour; it is a
thing apart, this royal purple flower. No one who has seen the plant
which covers the cliff below the fort can ever forget its beauty. Seen
from the sea, it stands out like a purple rock in the middle of the
city. By the middle of January it will be in all its gaudy, garish
splendour, the admired of all beholders.

It can well be imagined how these two varieties--the one brick-red, the
other deep magenta--would strike a jarring note in any garden if grown
side by side, or even within sight of each other. And do not imagine
that Madeira only boasts of these two coloured bougainvilleas in its
winter season. From these two have sprung many others--seedlings, no
doubt, hybridized in a country where the heat of the sun will ripen
most seeds. So now there are rosy reds, lighter or darker, to choose
from, shading through a range of colour which, like the beauty of its
parents, seems to stand alone.

The plant has, I consider, two enemies in the island. One is the
ordinary uneducated Portuguese gardener, who seems to think that the
art of gardening consists in so closely pruning a creeper or shrub
that all the natural grace and beauty of the plant is lost for ever,
as often as not choosing the moment for this cruel treatment when the
plant is in full flower. Though Nature has done her best to protect
the plant from the hand of man, by giving it long, hooked thorns, which
are exceedingly sharp, and, I believe, somewhat poisonous, even this
has not been sufficient, and many a beautiful specimen have I seen
maimed and dwarfed beyond repair in a few hours by an ignorant and
overzealous gardener. Its second enemy is rats, which unfortunately
have a great love for the bark on the stems of old plants, and many a
plant narrowly escapes destruction at their hands, or rather teeth.

The second place in the list of creepers for the New Year must be given
to the flaming orange _Bignonia venusta_, a native of South America,
with its dense clusters of finger-shaped flowers. This has now become
the commonest of all creepers in Madeira, and there is hardly a road
in the neighbourhood of Funchal where all through the month of January
there is not a stretch of wall bearing its gaudy burden, or a _mirante_
(as the arbour or summer-house dear to the hearts of the Portuguese is
called) without its roof of golden blossoms. There is a long list of
bignonias and tecomas--a family so closely allied to each other as to
be almost united--whose full beauty is for a later season; and only
stray blossoms of the deep red _Bignonia cherare_, with its long
yellow-throated trumpets, appear in the winter months, but sufficient
to give promise of glories to come in the month of April.

[Illustration: BIGNONIA VENUSTA]

In the same month the close-growing _Tecoma flava_ will become wreathed
with its golden-yellow trumpet flowers, clothing many a wall and
straying across tiled roofs, as it is so neat and clinging in its
habit that it never becomes so heavy a mass as to damage buildings.
Its companion at the same season is _Tecoma Lindleyana_, bearing large
mauve trumpet flowers, with a throat of a lighter shade. The individual
flowers are of extremely delicate texture, and are beautifully veined
with a slightly darker shade of purple. Yet another tecoma unfurls
its blossoms late in the month of April, but is not so often met with
as the two former varieties, possibly because the plant, when out of
flower, presents rather an unsightly and straggling appearance; but no
one can fail to admire the pure white and yellow-throated blossoms of
this _Tecoma Micheliensis_, as it is most commonly called, though I
believe it has a second, and possibly more correct, name.

For May and June is reserved, probably, the most beautiful of all the
tecomas, _jasminoides_. The plant is an ornament at all seasons; its
beautiful glabrous foliage seems to retain its freshness at all seasons
of the year, and when the plant is covered with its bunches of large
white blossoms, each with its deep red-purple throat, which seems to
reflect a shade of purple on to the white petals, it is one of the most
beautiful of all creepers.

From the list of winter creepers the _Thunbergia laurifolia_, with
its bunches of grey-blue gloxinia-shaped blossoms, cannot be omitted;
though the beauty of the plant is somewhat spoilt by the habit of the
dead blossoms hanging on instead of falling, and marring, by their
brown, shrivelled appearance, all the freshness of the newly developed
flowers. The plant always recalls to my mind the reason given by the
Japanese for not admiring the national flower of England--the rose--as
they complain that it clings with ungraceful tenacity to life, as
though loath or afraid to die, preferring to rot on its stem rather
than drop untimely; unlike the blossoms of spring, ever ready to depart
life at the call of Nature. Such is certainly the case with thunbergia.
The creeper is also a dangerous poacher, and, unless kept within
bounds, will soon smother and overwhelm any shrub or tree that it may
take possession of, though never in Madeira attaining to the vast
proportions that it assumes in Ceylon or other tropical countries,
where it takes possession of even the tallest forest-trees, and hangs
its long trailers from one tree to another, and on and on again, in one
dense tangle. The white variety does not seem to have been introduced
to Madeira, and its pure white blossoms recall gardens in St. Vincent
and other West Indian islands.

Yet another creeper whose flowering season belongs to the winter months
is the scarlet passionflower, _Passiflora coccinea_. By the end of
January the plant will be covered with a few fully opened flowers,
many half-developed flowers and innumerable buds giving promise of its
future splendour. On first acquaintance, one is deceived into thinking
that in a few days’ time the plant will be a sheet of scarlet blossoms,
but such is not the case: each individual flower is short-lived, and by
the time the half-developed blossoms have opened, the fully expanded
blooms of yesterday have vanished. Thus its flowering season is a
prolonged one, but it never attains to any very gaudy splendour.

By the last days of March the racemes of that most beautiful of all
creepers, _Wistaria chinensis_, or _sinensis_, will have begun to
lengthen, and gradually clothe the whole plant with a pale purple
canopy. The vine--as it is called the grape-flower vine, from the
resemblance of its blossoms to a bunch of grapes--is a native of China
and Japan, and also of parts of North America, which accounts for the
fact that it received the name of wistaria (by which it is known all
over the Western world) from one Caspar Wistar, a medical professor
in the University of Pennsylvania. In Japan the plant is known as
_fuji_, and is so universally admired that, in common with many other
flowers, it is made the excuse for many a flower-feast, when hundreds,
thousands, and even tens of thousands of pleasure-seekers will hold
their revels, or sit quietly sipping their tea under a roof of the
royal _fuji_. Though in Madeira it is not the fashion of the country to
hold flower-feasts, or to make flowers the theme of poems and plays,
or to regard wistaria as an emblem of gentleness and obedience, as is
the case in its Eastern home, yet in this land of its adoption it comes
in for its full share of admiration. Corridors and walls which have
been passed by unnoticed through the winter months, having been only
clad with the long, bare, leafless branches, the last leaves having
fallen early in December, suddenly become transformed, and for a few
short days--all too short, alas!--become the centre of attraction in
the garden. Like in Japan, the wistaria season begins with the white
wistaria, which has been christened in the Western world _Wistaria
Japonica_, and “it would seem as though this modest white wistaria
had been allowed by Nature to bloom so early, for fear she should be
overlooked and not appreciated when her more showy successor flings her
purple mantle over the land.” There are good specimens of this early
white variety in the gardens of the Quinta da Levada and the Quinta do
Val.

The variety known as _Wistaria multijuga_, for which Japan is so justly
famous, as it appears to be the only country where its full beauty can
be seen, has been introduced with but little success to the island. It
is true that it will grow, and grow strong, but its long racemes of
thin, pale, washed-out-looking flowers are but a sorry sight to those
who have ever seen the far-famed Kameido Temple grounds in Tokyo, when
the vines, with their long purple tassels, often over three feet in
length, clothe the long trellises and almost smother the guests who
sit feasting beneath them, gazing across at the long vista of mauve
blossoms reflected in the water below. But even in Japan this far-famed
_multijuga_ variety is only to be met with in certain districts and as
a cultivated form, and is never seen clambering from tree to tree in a
wild state, like the _chinensis_ variety. The wistaria season closes as
well as opens with a white-flowered form both in Japan and Madeira, as
the variety known as _macrobotrys_, with its very long racemes of white
blossoms, prolongs the beauty of the _fuji_ feast at the celebrated
Kameido Temple; and here in Madeira, though only one or two plants of
it exist, it is the last to retain its beauty.

The summer months will have their own creepers, though not such showy
ones as the winter and spring months; but if they are lacking in
colour, many of them atone for that by their delicious fragrance. To
these belong _Rhyncospermum jasminoides_, or _Trachelospermum_, as
I believe it is more correctly called, whose white starry flowers
fill the whole air with their almost overpowering scent. The plant
is a native of China and Japan, where it may be seen growing in
a perfectly wild state in hedgerows. There is another variety
called _angustifolium_ whose blossoms are much the same, but the
foliage differs, and this kind is said to prove hardy when grown
against a wall in the South of England. The well-known _Stephanotis
floribunda_, called in its native country the Madagascar chaplet
flower, unfurls its heavy-scented waxy blossoms in the summer months.
_Allamanda schotii_, hoyas, with their clusters of waxy red blossoms,
mandevilleas, and hosts of others, are seldom seen in their beauty by
the English owners of gardens.




CHAPTER XI

TREES AND SHRUBS


The list of indigenous and naturalized trees and shrubs growing in
Madeira is such a long and varied one that it is not surprising that
Captain Cook, in his account of his first voyage, should have said:
“Nature has been so liberal in her gifts to Madeira. The soil is so
rich, and there is such a variety of climate, that there is scarcely
any article, either of the necessaries or luxuries of life, which could
not be cultivated there.”

The place of honour among the island trees must be given to those
belonging to the laurel tribe, of which there are a great number,
and splendid specimens still remain in the country, survivors of the
wholesale destruction of the primeval forests. To this tribe belongs
the til, one of the most beautiful of evergreen trees, its shiny green
leaves contrasting admirably with the light grey bark of its stems. The
old trees grow to a very large size, and in the Boa Ventura Valley and
along the road to Sao Vincente there remain some grand old specimens,
the immense girth of whose trunks speaks for itself of their great age.
The true name of this so-called laurel appears to have been a matter
of some uncertainty, as Miss Taylor, in “Madeira: Its Scenery, and How
to See It,” classes it as _Oreodaphne fœtens_, describing it as “the
grandest of native trees”; while Mr. Bowdick, in 1823, says: “The til
has been confounded with _Laurus fœtens_, from the strong, disagreeable
odour of the wood when first cut. It is very valuable for its timber,
being extremely hard and tough. It would appear that the Portuguese
call both _Laurus fœtens_ and _Laurus cupuleris_ til, as they say
there are two kinds of til, and both are equally fetid.” In the damper
regions beautiful lichens grow luxuriantly on the stems of the trees,
and ferns have found a home in the cracks of the bark. The value of its
timber has no doubt been responsible for the destruction of the trees.
When polished, the wood is of a very dark colour, almost as black as
ebony.

The vinhatico, whose wood is the mahogany of Madeira and closely
resembles it, is another of the native trees, and again I find it
classed as _Laurus indica_ by Mr. Bowdick, who describes it as one
of the island’s most valuable products, while Miss Taylor describes
it as _Persea indica_. The wood, when cut, is of a deep red colour
before being polished. It is a fine forest tree, and has, as a rule,
light green foliage, though it occasionally turns crimson. It has
given its name to one of the most beautiful bits of scenery in the
island, as the Levada dos Vinhaticos, running above the village of
Santa Anna, passes through some of the grandest scenery in Madeira.
Professor Piazzi Smyth has gone so far as to assert, in “Madeira
Spectroscopic,” that some of the largest ships of the Spanish Armada
were either built of, or internally decorated with, the wood of the
tils and vinhaticos of Madeira. This would appear to be a flight of
imagination, or a revelation of the learned man’s inner consciousness,
as it is difficult, if not impossible, to find any grounds for such
an assertion, there being no document extant stating what timber was
employed for the building of that celebrated fleet.

The laurel familiar to us under the name of Portugal laurel, _Cerasus
lusitanica_, assumes the proportions of forest trees, and when I saw
it in spring, covered with its long racemes of creamy-white flowers,
it quickly dispelled the aversion with which I had always regarded
the stumpy, blackened specimens pining under the smoky atmosphere of
suburban shrubberies.

_Laurus Canariensis_ is a fragrant form of laurel, and the
country-people extract oil from its yellow berries.

_Picconia excelsa_, the _Pao branco_ of the Portuguese, is generally
to be found in the same districts as the til-trees, and attains to a
height of forty or fifty feet. Its hard, heavy white wood, being in
great demand for the keels of boats, is very valuable. Like many other
native trees, it is for this very reason rapidly becoming scarce, as
its destroyers, having no thought for the future, omit to cultivate it
from seed, which grows readily.

The _Clethra arborea_, or lily of the valley tree, as it is called
by the English, on account of the resemblance of its spikes of
creamy-white flowers to those of a lily of the valley, fills the
whole air with its delicious though somewhat heavy fragrance when the
tree is in flower in summer. Yet another fragrant tree peculiar to
Madeira is the _Pittosporum coriaceum_, which has been christened the
incense-tree, as early in April the air, especially near sundown, is
filled with the almost overpowering scent of its clusters of small
greenish-white flowers. The bark is very smooth and even, and of
a light ash colour. The tree is now somewhat rare in its natural
state, but is frequently seen in gardens, where it has no doubt been
transplanted from its original home among the rocks, as Mr. Lowe, in
his “Flora of Madeira,” remarks how he only noticed it growing on high
rocks or in inaccessible places.

One of the first trees which is sure to strike the eye of the
new-comer is the dragon-tree, or _Dracæna draco_, on account of its
peculiar growth. From having been a common tree on the island it has
now become a rare one in its native state; in fact, the only ones I
have ever seen under those conditions are a few sole survivors on
the rocks beyond the Brazen Head, where formerly they grew in great
numbers. Now by their quaint growth they give a distinctive feature
to many a garden, and it is consoling to know that they are easily
raised from seed. Mr. Bowdick, in writing of the tree, says: “The
dragon-tree was considered by Humboldt as exclusively indigenous to
India, but I am inclined to think it is also natural to Porto Santo,
and perhaps to Madeira--not from the few specimens which now remain on
these islands, but from the account of Cadamosto, who visited Porto
Santo in 1445, and writes that the dragon-trees of Porto Santo were so
large that fishing-boats capable of containing six or seven men were
made out of the trunks, and that the inhabitants fattened their pigs on
the fruit; but he adds that so many boats, shields, and corn-measures
had been made out of them, that even in his time there was scarcely a
dragon-tree to be seen in the island.”

The stem exudes a gum, and the following account of the means of
collecting it is taken from a Portuguese account of “The Discovery of
Madeira,” written in 1750: “All over the island grows a tree from which
the dragon’s blood is procured. This is performed by making incisions
in the bark, from whence the gum issues very plentifully into pots
hung upon the branches to receive it. The people use it as a sovereign
remedy for bruises, to which they are very much exposed by traversing
their rocky country; and this, with one panacea more, completes their
whole _materia medica_--that is, balsam of Peru, imported from the
Brazils in small gourds by their annual ships. These two, they imagine,
have power to cure almost all disorders, especially those that are
external.”

Among other native trees, the beautiful _Taxus baccata_ and the
_Juniperus oxycedrus_, with its great spreading silvery-green branches,
cannot be omitted. The former has become almost extinct, and the
juniper is also becoming rare, from the reckless way in which the trees
have been cut to be used for torches. The fragrant red wood is split
into lengths, and several bound together, for this purpose. In gardens
their dense growth makes them admirably suited to form an arbour, in
the absence of the ubiquitous _mirante_, as they provide shelter from
the wind and perfect shade.

Another evergreen tree, which, though not a native tree, is very
commonly to be seen in and about the town of Funchal, is the _Ficus
comosa_, which, as its name implies, is a beautiful tree, though, from
its having such far-spreading hungry roots, it is more suited to the
roadside than to gardens. A peculiarity of the tree is the slenderness
of its stem in comparison to the immense length and weight of its very
spreading branches; its bark is a very light grey colour, and is in
admirable contrast to the very smooth and shining leaves, which are
dark green above and pale beneath, produced in masses on the slender
rather hanging branchlets. Two very fine specimens of these trees stand
alone on the Rodondo, near the Quinta das Cruzes, from where a very
fine view of the town is to be seen from under their immense spreading
branches.

[Illustration: JACKARANDA-TREE.]

The camphor-trees are at their best in spring, when they are covered
with their delicate young green shoots, generally of a very light
green, but occasionally having brilliant red shoots. The trees attain
to a large size, though not assuming the gigantic proportions which
they reach in their native land, Japan. That most uninteresting of all
trees--the plane-tree--has been planted along the beds of the rivers in
the town; and the oaks are in almost perpetual foliage, as the young
leaves appear before the old ones have really fallen.

_Grevillea robusta_ is common in gardens, where, having shed its leaves
in winter, the trees are showy in the early summer months, being
covered with yellow flowers; but the palm for flowering trees must be
given to the _Jacaranda mimosafolia_, a native of Brazil. Having also
shed its long fern-like foliage in the late winter months, early in May
the tree bursts into a cloud of blue blossoms, almost as blue as the
sky above. The tree is a fairly common one in and about Funchal, and
the “blue trees,” as they are generally called, are the admired of all
beholders during the few weeks they are in bloom. Nature has done well
in ordaining that the foliage should fall before the tree blossoms, as
the full beauty of the flower is thus seen unshrouded by leaves.

The list of flowering trees is a long one, but I cannot help mentioning
a few others which are ornaments to the gardens when in bloom. The dark
red of the _Schotia speciosa_ blossoms also adorn a leafless tree. The
tree, which was called after a Dutchman, one Richard van der Schot, in
its native country--subtropical Africa--is commonly known as the Kaffir
bean-tree, no doubt because its blossoms are more suggestive of bunches
of red seeds or beans than flowers.

There are a few specimens of the gorgeous _Poinciana regia_, which
flowers in summer; its peculiar flat, spreading branches are easily
recognized. No one who has ever seen these magnificent trees in all
their gaudy splendour in tropical regions can ever forget their beauty.
They deserve their name, the royal peacock flower, though they are more
commonly known as flamboyant-trees, from the likeness of their leafless
branches, clad with brilliant orange-red nasturtium-like blossoms,
to flaming torches. In Madeira the tree does not attain to its full
beauty, as possibly the difference between the climate of its native
home--Madagascar--and that of Madeira is too great. Here the less
showy variety, known as _Poinciana pulcherrima_, thrives better.

At the same season the uncouth growth of the bare and leafless
frangipani or plumeria trees bursts into blossom--white,
cream-coloured, or pale pink--and fills the air with its heavy
fragrance, recalling the oppressive, almost stifling, atmosphere of
Buddhist temples in Ceylon, where frangipani blossoms are almost
regarded as sacred to Buddha, and are always called “temple flowers.”

Of the coral-trees there are several varieties: _Erythrina
corallodendron_, a native of the West Indies, has large spikes of deep
red blossoms on leafless light grey stems; and _Erythrina cristagalli_,
a native of Brazil, also bears scarlet blossoms. Besides the flowering
trees, there are so many shrubs which contribute such a wealth of
colour to the gardens, especially in the winter months, that it is hard
to decide which are most worthy of notice. The gaudy orange-coloured
_Streptosolen Jamesonii_, which was only introduced into Madeira a
comparatively short time ago, has now become one of the commonest, but
none the less beautiful, of winter-flowering shrubs. Like many other
plants which I had only known pining in the unfavourable atmosphere
of an English greenhouse, it is almost impossible to recognize the
streptosolen of the greenhouse, with its dull orange and yellow
blossoms, as the same plant when grown in the sunshine of Madeira. The
soil is no doubt partly responsible for the difference in colour--a
fact I have noticed with many other plants, but certainly in the
case of streptosolen the change is most remarkable--and the intense
brilliancy of its large heads of blossom attract the attention of all
new-comers to the island. The shrub is sometimes known as _Browallia
Jamesonii_; and a blue variety which has lately been introduced from
the Cape seemed to closely resemble the family of browallias. Should it
prove to have as vigorous a constitution as the orange variety, it will
be another great acquisition to the island, as its blossoms are of a
deep clear blue.

_Astrapæa pendiflora_, or tassel-tree, as it is often called, from
the resemblance of its great balls of pink blossoms hanging on a long
slender stalk, has handsome foliage, and assumes the proportions of
a large shrub or small tree in a short time, as it appears to be of
very rapid growth. I find it difficult to share the almost universal
admiration that it awakens when in flower, as its beauty is much marred
by the tenacious habit of its dead blossoms, which cling to life to
the bitter end, and spoil all the freshness of the newly developed
blossoms. The balls of blossom, in shape reminding one of huge guelder
roses, start by being a greenish-white, which gradually turns to a deep
dull pink, and in death to a most unsightly brown. _Astrapæa viscaria_
attains to the size of a large tree, and in April bears a burden of
pink blossoms, also in round balls; it is a native of Madagascar, which
seems to be the home of so many of the most beautiful flowering trees.

Among purple flowering shrubs, for the beauty of its individual flowers
and purity of colour, _Lasiandra_ or _Pleroma macrantha_, with its
large deep violet-purple blossoms, deserves a place in every garden.
The plant cannot be reckoned amongst the most showy of the flowering
shrubs, as it does not bear many blossoms fully expanded at the same
time, though, as the flowers are very freely produced at the ends of
the branchlets, its flowering season is a prolonged one. The plant
appears to be a native of Brazil, which is another home of many of the
most beautiful of flowering shrubs.

_Wigandia macrophylla_ attains to the size of a small tree; its large,
loose heads of lilac-purple flowers, somewhat resembling paulonia
blossoms, and its handsome foliage, combine to make it a most
ornamental plant and a valuable acquisition all through the winter and
early spring. To Brazil we owe another favourite shrub, _Franciscea
latifolia_, as it is commonly called, though it appears to belong to
the _Brunsfelsias_, a family of shrubs called after one Otto Brunsfels,
who was first a Carthusian monk and afterwards a physician. The clear
lilac blossoms have a distinct whitish eye, and as they fade, turn to
a greyish-white, so the shrub appears to bear white and lilac blossoms
at the same time. The blossoms are deliciously fragrant, though many
people consider their scent to be too strong and overpowering. A
well-grown specimen attains to eight or ten feet, and has pleasing
shiny green foliage.

The light crimson-flowered _Hibiscus rosa sinensis_, which ornaments
most gardens in tropical or subtropical regions, has also found a
home in Madeira, and the long white trumpet-flowering _Brugmansia
suaveolens_, more commonly called daturas, natives of Mexico, have
found so congenial a home that the shrub may almost be considered to
have become naturalized. Growing at the bottom of many a ravine rich
in vegetation, the shrub will appear to be in a perfectly wild state,
bearing a fresh crop of leaves and blossoms with every new moon, and
filling the air at nightfall with their heavy scent.

The blossoms of the daturas are known as _bellas noites_ by the
Portuguese, though the night-scented flowers of _Cestrum vespertinum_
seem to share the name with them; occasionally, it is true, the
latter are deemed masculine, and are therefore called _boas noites_.
The following interesting description of _Brugmansia_ or _Datura
suaveolens_ is taken from Mr. Lowe’s “Flora of Madeira,” written
in 1857: “The flowers are slightly fragrant by day, but much more
powerfully and diffusedly so after sunset and through the night,
when, by moonlight, they display an almost radiant or phosphorescent
snowy-whiteness, and expand more fully, falling into elegant thick
horizontal rows or flounces on the trees or bushes. Nothing can exceed
their grace and loveliness when in full luxuriance and perfection,
which it may be said to attain at intervals of four to five weeks
continuously, from June to November or December. The tree is esteemed
noxious, and therefore in Madeira of late years has been banished from
gardens and near proximity to houses. This idea perhaps originated from
an accident which occurred some forty years ago, when two or three
children, having eaten a few of the seeds, escaped by timely medical
assistance, with no further harm than the effects of an overdose of
_Atropa belladonna_. Still, there is something perceptively oppressive
in the evening, in too long or close inhalement of the powerful
aromatic fragrance of the flower.”

The peculiar flowers of _Strelitzia regina_, introduced to Europe from
South Africa during the reign of George III., and named, in honour
of Queen Charlotte of Mecklenburgh Strelitz, never fail to attract
admiration. The plant is also called bird of paradise flower and
bird’s-tongue flower--both suitable names, as the gaudiness of its blue
and orange flowers must have been responsible for the former, while
the resemblance of the flower to a bird’s head with a bright blue beak
shows its likeness to the latter. The plant has long, narrow, oblong
leaves, of a dull greyish-green, of a peculiarly tough texture, and a
good clump some four or five feet high is very ornamental. _Strelitzia
augusta_, as its name implies, is of more majestic growth. It has large
foliage, not unlike a banana, and clumps attain to twelve or fifteen
feet in height. The blossom is more curious than beautiful, being of so
dark a purple as to be almost black; but, for the sake of its foliage,
it is always worth a place, and may well be called a noble plant.

[Illustration: A CHAPEL DOORWAY]




CHAPTER XII

HISTORICAL SKETCH


Though this volume does not profess to be in any sense a guide-book to
the Island of Madeira, yet it seems as though even those visitors to
the island, who may only wish to study its flora and sylva, will more
fully appreciate their wanderings by learning something of its history.

Very little is known of the early history of Madeira. Though some
historians assert that even the early Phœnicians found their way there
during some of their adventurous voyages, there seems to be little
foundation for such assertions. Others at a later date claim for
Madeira the honour of being Pliny’s Purpuria, or Purple Land, an honour
to which the Canaries also lay claim, though it seems probable that
Madeira has more right to the distinction, as Humboldt gave new life
to the theory by describing in glowing terms the beauties of its hazy
mountains, shrouded in purple and violet clouds. A less romantic reason
for the name of Purple Land is also given, and merely relates to the
fact that King Juba in the days of Pliny contemplated the possibility
of extracting a purple dye, called “gætulian purple,” from the juice
of one of the numerous trees or plants which grew on the island. This
theory is supported by its upholders by the fact that Ptolemy mentions
an island in this part of the Atlantic Ocean called Erythea, or Red
Island, which again may possibly have reference to the dye. After these
early days there is no trace of the island in history for hundreds of
years, so it is more than problematical as to whether the Purple Lands
had any connection with Madeira.

There seems to be no end to the number of legends and vague theories
as to the discovery of the group of islands. An Arab historian relates
the discovery of an island (possibly Madeira) by an expedition of his
people in the eleventh century, who gave it the name of El Ghanam.
These travellers, known as the “Almagrarin adventurers,” set sail from
Lisbon with the intention of discovering something. Their name, meaning
the “finders of mares’ nests,” is suggestive of fabulous tales. After
being driven across unknown seas they came to a district of “stinking
and turbid waters,” which at first frightened them back; and it
is suggested that, as the soil of Madeira shows traces of volcanic
disturbances--as, indeed, does the whole formation of the island--these
disturbed waters might well have been in its neighbourhood.

In the fourteenth century both the French and Spaniards claim to have
touched at the islands; but if such were the case, it seems unlikely
that their discovery would have been relegated to oblivion, though in
the Medici map in Florence the group of islands now known as Porto
Santo, Madeira, and the Desertas appear, under the names of “Porto
Sto,” “Ila Legname,” and “I. Deserta.” If these names were inserted
when the chart was made (A.D. 1351), the Genoese might claim to
have been the true discoverers; but as the names are merely Italian
translations of the Portuguese, it is more likely that they were added
after their present owners had taken possession of them.

It is through the medium of another legend, as some still call the
romantic story of Machim and his lady-love, Anna Arget, or Harbord,
that we appear to arrive at the true history of the discovery of
Madeira. The story, though it is more suggestive of fabulous romance
than history, has been accepted as being the medium of the tales
of the unsurpassed beauty of the island coming to the ears of the
enterprising Portuguese navigator Joao Gonsalvez Zargo. The tale
relates how one Robert à Machin, in the reign of Edward III., fell in
love with a beautiful young lady of noble family named Anna d’Arget.
Being endowed with great wealth as well as beauty, her parents destined
her for a greater match, which was accordingly arranged. Though the
lady returned her young lover’s affection, she was compelled, in an age
when the daughters of a great house had little voice in the choice of
their husbands, to marry the nobleman chosen by her parents. In order
to insure that their plans should not be frustrated, the lady’s parents
went so far as to arrange that her lover Robert should be imprisoned
until after the marriage. When he was liberated he heard from a friend
of the fate of his lady-love, and lost no time in following her to
her new home and arranging for their elopement. This took place by
sea, the adventurous couple embarking at Bristol, hoping to make the
coast of France. Contrary winds arose, and we are told that, after
enduring great perils and hardships for thirteen days, Robert and Anna,
accompanied by a few faithful followers, came to “a pleasant but
uninhabited land, diversified by hills and vales, intersected by clear
rivulets, and shaded with pine-trees.”

Dr. Gaspar Fructuoso, in his work entitled “As Saudades da Terra,”
written in 1590, tells of the lovers’ great joy when, “on the morning
of the fourteenth day, when they had been hourly expecting destruction,
and were in a hopeless and exhausted condition, they saw a dark object
before them, which they imagined might be land, and when the sun
rose they perceived that their surmises were correct and their hopes
fulfilled. As they drew near, they saw that the mountains rose, as it
were, almost directly from the water’s edge in many places. The almost
perpendicular cliffs seemed to preclude any landing, except where the
grand ravines opened right down to the sea. It was into one of these
openings of enchanting loveliness that Machim directed his vessel to be
steered, and, casting anchor, a boat was most eagerly launched. Machim
and some companions hurried on shore, and they soon returned with such
an encouraging account that he took his beloved Anna from off the
vessel where such terrible and anxious days had been passed, and landed
on a shore where he hoped he should, with such comforts as still
remained to him, procure for her, for a time at least, some repose,
refreshment, and security.”

For some time the party devoted their time to exploring their immediate
surroundings, in a land which appeared to them a haven of rest and of
surpassing loveliness. They penetrated into forests of great extent, to
points on the mountain-tops from whence a succession of wooded ravines
and steep mountain-sides, clothed with a luxuriant and ever-verdant
vegetation, delighted their eyes; the mountain streams giving life to
a scene where, except only for the songs of countless birds and the
hum of insect life, all was still. No four-legged animals or reptiles
were to be seen. Fruits in abundance seemed as if awaiting them, and
in the crannies of the rocks they found honey possessing the odour of
violets. An opening in the extensive woods, which was encircled by
laurels and flowering shrubs, presented an inviting retreat, and a
tree of dense shade, the probable growth of ages, offered a verdant
canopy of impenetrable foliage. In this spot they determined to form a
residence from the abundant materials with which Nature supplied them.
This state of innocent happiness was not destined to last long, as,
though apparently serenely contented with their surroundings as long
as the vessel anchored close at hand suggested a possible retreat and
return to the outer world, disaster befell them, for one night a storm
arose and their ship was driven out to sea. This calamity so greatly
distressed the fair lady that she became completely prostrated by the
shock, and in a few days she died in her lover’s arms. Machim, in his
turn, died of grief a few days after, having spent the intervening time
in erecting a memorial to his much-loved Anna. The dying man dictated
an inscription recording their sad story, concluding with a request
that if any Christians should at any future time form a settlement in
that island, they would erect a church over their graves and dedicate
it to the Redeemer of Mankind, a request which, it will be seen, was
afterwards carried out, when “Machim’s tree” was supposed to have
furnished sufficient material for the building of the whole chapel.

Their survivors not unnaturally set about building a boat in which to
escape from the land which by now was filled with sad associations for
them, and eventually they succeeded in reaching the coast of Morocco.
Here a worse fate awaited them, as they fell into the hands of the
Moors and became slaves. They are said to have joined some of their
fellow-comrades who had been on the ship when she was driven out to
sea. Their past and present adventures, and the descriptions they
gave of the beauty of this fairy island, attracted the attention of a
fellow-slave, a Spaniard named Juan Morales, an experienced pilot.

Morales treasured all this information, and was eventually ransomed
through the intervention of his Sovereign. On his return to Spain he
was taken prisoner by the Portuguese, and carried off to Lisbon by
Joao Gonsalvez Zargo, the celebrated navigator, who lost no time in
informing his patron Prince Henry of the tales he had heard from his
prisoner of the fertility and beauty of the undiscovered island.

Prince Henry was the son of John I. of Portugal, and a nephew of our
Henry IV. He was called “O Conquisador,” and the Portuguese are justly
proud of him, as through his love of exploration and adventure he
added largely to their dominions, and lent a ready ear to rumours of
undiscovered lands. Zargo had no difficulty in persuading his patron to
fit out an expedition, which he himself was appointed to command. On
June 1, 1419, he set sail for Porto Santo, which had been discovered
two years previously by the Portuguese. The colonists on the island
related how, in one particular direction, there hung perpetually over
the sea a thick, impenetrable darkness, which was guarded by a strange
noise which occasionally made itself heard. With the usual superstition
of the age, various reasons were ascribed to these mysterious signs.
We are told “by some the place was deemed an abyss, from which whoso
ventured thither would never return; by others it was called the Mouth
of Hell. Certain persons declared it to be that ancient island Cipango,
kept by Providence under a mysterious veil, where resided the Spanish
and Portuguese Christians who had escaped from the slavery of the Moors
and Saracens. It was considered, however, a great crime to dive into
the secret, since it had pleased God to signify His intention to reveal
it by any of the signs which were mentioned by the ancient prophets who
spoke of this marvel.”

Being less superstitious and more adventurous than these benighted
colonists, Zargo determined to fathom the mystery of this so-called
impenetrable darkness. Setting sail one morning with a fair wind, by
noon his hopes were fully realized, and he found the mysterious veil
to be nothing more than heavy clouds hanging over the densely wooded
mountains on the north of the island--a state of things very commonly
seen to this day when approaching the island from the north. Like the
unfortunate couple Machim and Anna, he was filled with joy and delight
when he saw the grand mass of mountains rising abruptly from the sea.
The party soon found themselves sailing along a glorious coast, with
grand cliffs, cut by deep densely wooded ravines, coming down to the
sea.

On the morning of June 14, 1419, having anchored for the night in a
sheltered bay, which exactly corresponded with the description given
by Morales, who accompanied the expedition, of Machim and Anna’s
resting-place, Zargo and some of his followers landed--and this is the
first authentic account of the discovery of Madeira.

The party spent some days exploring this rich and fertile acquisition
to the Crown of Portugal, and on July 2 Zargo, accompanied by two
priests who formed part of the expedition, held a ceremonious service
of thanksgiving for the discovery of the island, taking formal
possession of it in the name of the King of Portugal. Mass was
celebrated and a service was held on the spot which was supposed to be
the grave of the two lovers. The final ceremony consisted in the laying
of the foundation-stone of a chapel dedicated, in accordance with
Machim’s request, to the Redeemer of Mankind.

Before returning to Portugal to announce the joyful news of his
discovery, Zargo explored the coast, and named various points and
bays with the names they still bear at the present day. Machim’s bay
was named Machico, and may claim to be the oldest settlement. The
most eastern point of the island had already been named Ponta de Sao
Lourenso when the travellers rounded it--some say because Zargo,
calling for the aid of St. Lourenso, after whom his ship was named,
jumped into the sea at this point and landed; others assert that the
point was merely named after one of his companions who bore the saint’s
names.

Santa Cruz was so named because at this spot the party found some
large trees lying on the shore, torn up by the elements, out of which
they formed a large wooden cross. Porto do Seixo owes its name to the
freshness and purity of its spring water, for which it is still famous;
and the explorers were so struck by the great springs of pure water
which gush out of a grand mass of rock, that they took back with them
to Portugal a bottle of the water as an offering to Prince Henry.

Rounding a prominent headland which was then clothed with numerous
dragon-trees, and remained famous for them for many hundreds of years,
though now only one or two of the trees are left, flocks of tern were
startled from their resting-place by the strange and unknown noise of
oars, and flew all round the boats, even alighting on their occupants.
The headland therefore received the name of Capo do Garajao, or Cape of
the Tern, though at the present time it is better known to the English
under the name of the Brazen Head.

From this point they saw a fine expanse of country, and at once settled
that this would be the best spot on which to build the future city. As
the district was remarkable for the thick growth of fennel, which in
Portuguese is called _funcho_, the site of the new town received the
name of Funchal.

Ribeiro des Soccoridos (river of the rescued) was the name given to
a place where two of the party lost their footing whilst attempting
to cross a river, and would have been swept into the sea if their
companions had not come to their rescue. Praya Formoso was aptly named
“beautiful shore.” The extent of their wanderings on this occasion
seems to have led them to the great cliff which towers some 2,000
feet above the sea, so they named the cape Cabo Girao. Having been
startled by seeing some seals leaping out of caves in a bay before they
approached the great cliff, they named the spot Camara do Lobos, or
Wolves’ Lair, which is the site of the picturesque village which was
afterwards built in the sheltered situation.

From this time the history of the island is no longer wrapt in mythical
legends, and it seems certain that in the following year (1419) Zargo
and one Tristao Teixeira were permitted to return. They divided the
island into two _comarcas_, each taking command of one: Zargo became
the _Capitao_, and Teizeira the _Donatorio_, and they portioned out
the land among their followers. Zargo founded the town of Funchal,
and the two Captains had complete jurisdiction granted to them by the
Crown, though they had to appeal to their monarch in cases of life and
death. Zargo lived to enjoy his command for forty-seven years, and his
tomb is still to be seen in the church of the Convent of Sta. Clara,
which was founded by his granddaughter, Donna Constanca de Norouka,
in 1492. Fructuoso gives an account of some of the first inhabitants
of the island, and tells us that the first children who were born in
the island were the son and daughter of Gonzalo Ayres Fereira, one of
Zargo’s companions, and they were christened Adam and Eve. Adam, the
first man, founded the Church of Nossa Senhora at the Mount.

The wife of Christopher Columbus being the daughter of Perestrello, the
Governor of the neighbouring island of Porto Santo, possibly led to
Christopher Columbus visiting Madeira. The house which he was said to
have occupied during these visits, the property of Jean d’Esmenault,
was ruthlessly destroyed in the year 1877 to make room for new shops.
The American Consul of that date, evidently sharing the love of the
rest of his country-people for souvenirs, carried away to America
many of the architectural treasures of the house, such as the carved
window-frames and ornamental stonework. Thus Funchal lost one of her
most interesting relics of the past.

In the year 1566 Funchal suffered at the hands of a French naval
expedition which had been fitted out by Peyrot de Montluc, son of
the Marshal, for the purposes of exploring unknown lands and seas,
according to the spirit of adventure which was the fashion of that
age. Meeting with storms, which probably diminished the number of his
crew, Montluc put into Madeira, with the intention, it is said, of
recruiting his force; but being eyed with suspicion, as belonging to
the navy of a foreign country, he professed to have been insulted,
and attacked the town. The city appears to have been feebly defended,
although Montluc must have met with some resistance, as over 200 of the
inhabitants lost their lives. Very little is known as to the strength
of the invading force, but it is certain that great damage was done to
the town by the Huguenot invaders, as they were, of course, described
by the Catholics. The churches seem to have suffered severely, as the
plunderers no doubt expected to find treasure in their vaults. Having
thoroughly ransacked the town and terrified the inhabitants, who
mostly fled to the country, the expedition departed before assistance
came from Lisbon, but not before the leader Montluc had been mortally
wounded. In 1580 the island, being a Portuguese possession, fell with
its mother-country under the rule of Spain--a state of affairs which
lasted some eighty years. Madeira seems to have been little affected
by the Spanish yoke, the most important alteration in its government
being the abolition of the office of Captains and the appointment of a
Governor of the island--an office which the Portuguese confirmed when
it again came under their sole power, and is continued to this day.

The eighteenth century appears to have been a more peaceful epoch in
the history of the island, though it is recorded that Captain Cook,
when starting on his voyage round the world in the _Endeavour_,
bombarded the fort on the Loo Rock as a protest against an affront
which he said had been offered to the British flag.

During the seventeenth century many English families settled in
Madeira, as, in consequence of the marriage of Charles II. with
Catharine of Braganza, British residents were afforded special favours
and privileges, which enabled them to develop the wine trade. Dr.
Azevado says that a document exists in the municipal archives of
Funchal showing that during the negotiations for the royal marriage,
there being some delay in the final decision of King Charles, the Queen
Regent of Portugal was willing to cede the island of Madeira as part
of her daughter’s dowry. Other more important possessions having been
ceded, Madeira remained a Portuguese colony, and only came under the
protection of the English when, in 1801, in order to protect their
allies from the aggressions of the French, the island was garrisoned
by English troops. The Peace of Amiens saw the withdrawal of the
British forces; but when war broke out between England and France, in
1807, Madeira again came under British protection, when Admiral Hood
occupied the island with a force of 4,000 men. Mr. Yate Johnson, in his
“Handbook on Madeira,” tells us how he himself had seen the original
signatures of the principal inhabitants taken on this occasion, by
which they individually swore “to bear true allegiance and fealty to
His Majesty King George III. and to his heirs and successors, as the
island should be held by his said Majesty or his heirs, in conformity
to the terms of the capitulation made and signed on the 26th December,
1807, whereby the island and dependencies were delivered over to his
said Majesty.” The island, though garrisoned by the English until the
restoration of general peace in 1814, was restored to her rightful
owners four months after the above oath of allegiance was signed.

The year 1826 was a troublous time for Madeira, as the island did not
escape the civil war which raged in Portugal in consequence of the
Miguelite insurrection. Property was confiscated, the owners being
thankful if they escaped with their lives; and even after the country
had resumed the monarchy, it took some years before the island returned
to its former tranquillity and prosperity.


THE END


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