Chambers's journal of popular literature, science, and art, fifth series, no. 122, vol. III, May 1, 1886

With numerically unimportant exceptions, we have all to toil for our living; and it is probable that that man is most truly described as fortunate who at the outset in life has chosen work in which he can take pleasure. To labour during the best hours of the day in hatred or contempt of the task, for the sake of the few hours of leisure that are thereby earned, will in the long-run weaken the moral fibre and lower the vitality; and those hours of leisure will probably be wasted when won. But he who has been fortunate enough to find work for his hands to do which will bring him food and shelter, and in which at the same time his soul can rejoice, will lay aside his task with a spirit fresh for a new study, a new enterprise, or with a zest for innocent and healthy enjoyment.

The artist who labours to create forms, hues, and ideas of beauty; the author who enriches the world with fresh treasures of thought; the physician whose aim and whose reward is to relieve suffering; the carpenter to whom his craft is a pride and a triumph; the labourer in the field who loves the soil he tills, and delights to watch from season to season the checkered success of his operations: these, and such as these, are the truly fortunate men, into whose annual money-winnings we have no need to inquire before pronouncing them happy. Here, again, our lot is to a large extent in our own hands; for though we have not all the professions and occupations of life offered to our choice, yet some selection is open to us, and it behoves us to choose both wisely and boldly, and it is an instance where boldness is often wisdom. Even where the choice presented to us is so narrow as seemingly to preclude all chance of satisfying our aspirations, there is but little work in the world which we cannot ennoble by our method of performing it and by the spirit in which we undertake it. The ideal life which presents us with the spectacle of the Master washing the feet of his disciples and kneading the common clay of the ground, teaches us how to invest with dignity the meanest labour of our hands. From the examples of Chaucer, whose pen ‘moved over bills of lading,’ and of Burns, whose feet trod deep into the miry furrows behind the plough he guided, we may learn that while a humble toil cannot degrade the man, a man may infinitely ennoble the toil. Let us but once recognise that it is necessary and right that any piece of work should be done, and that it has fallen to our lot to do it, and a genuine pleasure may be derived from its thorough performance. ‘The manly part,’ says Emerson, ‘is to do with might and main what you can do.’ Indifference as to the excellence of the work turned out, hurried or perfunctory or slovenly execution, will result in lethargy and self-dissatisfaction; while a right pride in a piece of good work well done will leave the nerves braced and not relaxed, and the faculties developed instead of diminished.

Fortunate, again, beyond the power of mishap to depress, is the man who is endowed with such elasticity of spirit that he can shake off the anxieties and wearinesses of the mind in the mere delight of existence; to whom the fresh breath of morning as he rises, the sense of bodily strength as he steps forth into the open air, the consciousness of vigour as he performs his mid-day toil, the assurance of sound sleep as he lays his head on the pillow at night, can bring oblivion of the losses or the disappointments of yesterday. And, once more, a measure of this good fortune is within the reach of most of us. The temper that broods over trouble, that cries over spilt milk, and forebodes unrealised ills, is one easy indeed to yield to, but one which can be put to rout with a little fortitude and resolve; and, that once achieved, the energies necessary for the retrieval of our position will quickly reassert themselves.

Highly favoured, too, of fortune is the man who has been born with an ear and a heart for Music, with an eye and a heart for Art and Nature, and with a brain and a heart for Poetry; for veritably in these are to be found the most inexhaustible riches, the most enduring delights, the most exalting pleasures. But it would be unavailing to attempt to capitulate the various gifts that birth or accident confers which are worthy to be regarded as good fortune. A moment’s reflection is all that is needed to prove that opulence is but a small and single item among the infinite number of such gifts; and the sordid tendency of the mind, and the liability of words to become restricted in their meaning and debased in their application, is evinced in the narrowed signification of opulence ascribed by common usage to the word ‘fortune.’ We live in a money-grasping age, and it is well to call to mind from time to time that guineas are not the only counters with which the game of life is played and won or lost, and that our banker is not, after all, the best judge of our fortune.

THE IVORY TRADE.

There is no doubt in the world but that American trade is being admirably served by American consuls in every part of the world. The Reports which these gentlemen send are not only written in an interesting manner, but embrace nearly every subject that can be of service to the industrial occupations of any country. Among recent Reports is one by Mr Consul Webster on ivory so far as it relates to the Sheffield cutlery trade; and as his Report embraces nearly every matter connected with this trade—though some of his figures are not very new—the facts cannot fail to be of interest to this country also. From the Report, it appears that in 1880 there were imported 13,435 cwt. of ivory from the following countries; British East Indies sent us 2972 cwt.; west coast of Africa, 2310 cwt.; Egypt, 2003 cwt.; British possessions in South Africa, 1114 cwt.; the native states, east coast of Africa, 1099 cwt.; Aden, 693 cwt.; France, 612 cwt.; Holland, 431 cwt.; Malta, 411 cwt.; Portuguese possessions, West Africa, 361 cwt.; British possessions, West Africa, 162 cwt.; and all other countries, 1267 cwt.

Malta is the port of shipment to England of ivory that finds its way to Tripoli and other points on the north coast of Africa. To Holland, ivory is brought from her possessions on the coast of Africa. France receives but little except what has been purchased in England, portions of which are sometimes returned. The Bombay, Siam, and Zanzibar ivory is bought for the making of piano keys, carvings, and other expensive articles of luxury. All ivory from the east coast of Africa, except the Cape, comes through Zanzibar, and pays a royalty to the sultan. This is known to the trade by a mark—a rude figure of an elephant—that is put upon it after the payment of this royalty. Mr Webster calls attention to the fact that this mark is often erased from tusks that are to be sent to the United States from the English sales, and suggests that this is done to prevent identification, and evade the extra duty chargeable on all ‘goods the produce of countries east of the Cape of Good Hope, when imported from places west of the Cape of Good Hope.’ It will be news to most of us in this country that the United States thus tries to prohibit, where possible, the purchase of raw material through the European markets.

Mammoth tusks of ivory occasionally come to this country from Siberia; but as these have been lying exposed for centuries, and probably for many thousands of years, and often buried in ice, the ‘nature’ has gone out of them, and they are not fit for the cutler’s use. The teeth of the walrus and hippopotamus are used in considerable quantity, and being of suitable size, are used whole for making expensive carved handles. Ivory of the best quality comes from the west coast of Africa, under the names of Cameroon, Angola, and Gaboon ivory. This is brought down from the interior, and retains a larger proportion of the ‘fat’ or gelatine, from the fact, probably, that it is more recently from the animal. In this state it is called ‘green’ ivory. It is more translucent, and not so white as the Egyptian and other kinds, called ‘white’ ivory, that have been lying a longer time and in a more sandy region, and exposed to the heat of the sun until the animal matter has disappeared. The excellence of the ‘green’ ivory consists in its greater toughness and in its growing whiter by age, instead of yellow, as is the case with the whiter varieties. Yet buyers of cutlery, through ignorance of these qualities, usually prefer the whiter kinds, which on that account are more in demand for the Sheffield trade, and have more than doubled in price since 1879. The sales of ivory occur every three months at London and Liverpool, and sales are also held to a limited extent and at irregular intervals at Rotterdam. At Liverpool, only ivory of the best quality, and from the west coast of Africa, is offered. Buyers from Germany and France and agents of American consumers attend these sales; and it is estimated that about one quarter of the whole amount goes to Sheffield, another quarter to London, and the other half to Germany, France, and the United States.

Turning from the sources and sale of ivory, we next have some very interesting facts relating to its manufacture. The experienced eye is quick to discern the value of a lot of ivory, when—which is essential—it is guided by a knowledge of the country from which it comes. It is also said that the electric light is beginning to be used to test the soundness of the tusks. There is just now great anxiety as to the future supply of ivory. The stocks in public warehouses are smaller than for many years past, and the rapid increase in prices is causing great anxiety to manufacturers. At a recent sale at Liverpool, the best African ivory sold by the ton at over twelve shillings and sixpence per pound. This will explain the fact that the principal factor in the value of the best table cutlery is the handle. When the ivory comes into the hands of the cutler, much skill is required to make the most of the precious material, and every scrap is turned to account. After cutting out the scales of all sizes for pocket-knives, and the solid handles for table cutlery, the small pieces are usually sold to the button-makers, or maybe made into ‘pearls.’ These latter are the small pieces of ivory, pearl, or horn inserted into the handles of tea and coffee pots as non-conductors of heat, and are so called because they were originally made of pearl. The fine sawdust is sold for fertilising purposes, for the manufacture of gelatine, and for making a fine white sizing used in the manufacture of lace curtains and other fabrics. The refuse still remaining goes to the makers of ivory black. The proportion of this residuum is about fifteen pounds to the hundredweight, and sells at from sixteen to twenty pounds per ton. Many efforts have been made to devise some method for the solidification of ivory dust, but as yet without success. Great skill is required in the cutting of ivory, as of wood, to bring out the beauty of the grain. The saw of the cutter occasionally reveals a rifle-ball that has been lodged in the tusk, and that has been completely covered over by subsequent growth. About one-third the length of the tusk, where it enters the head of the elephant, is hollow. This hollow, when the tusk is in place upon the live animal, is filled with a soft pulp or core, which supplies the growth of the tusk. A ball lodged in this core will in time be imbedded in the solid ivory. This hollow portion is cut off and sold separately, except the thinnest portion, as bangle ivory, and is in great demand for bangles or ornamental rings for the ankles and arms of Indian and African women. That portion of the tusk towards the point is usually more solid and of finer grain. This is cut off and sold by itself at high prices under the name of billiard-ball points. Small teeth of from ten to fifteen pounds-weight are called in the trade ‘scrivelloes.’ The points of these small tusks are used in their natural state for making handles for expensive carving sets and for other articles of luxury. The large proportion of very small tusks which are now brought to market annually is a sure indication of the increasing number of elephants that die young. To show to what size these tusks might attain, the American consul states that there was in a Sheffield showroom an African elephant’s tusk nine feet long, twenty-one inches in girth, and weighing one hundred and sixty pounds. The value of the tusk was one hundred and thirty pounds, and it is said that an animal large enough and strong enough to carry such a pair would attract far more attention than Jumbo did. In the nine years which ended with 1881, there were 5286 tons of ivory imported into Great Britain, and as the number of tusks is known, the average weight of pairs of tusks can be ascertained. It is a little under forty pounds each pair. At this rate, these imports represent 296,016 pairs, and consequently the same number of elephants have either died long ago, or have been recently slaughtered, to supply the demands of luxury in nine years alone. ‘At this rate of destruction,’ says Mr Webster, ‘it will be seen how rapidly this noble animal must disappear, and how surely ivory will become a thing of the past. There are, doubtless, large quantities of ivory still remaining in the interior of the African continent; but with the rapid advance of civilised man, and the temptation of increasing high prices, these will soon be discovered and exhausted.’

SPOKEN IN ANGER.

’Twas but a little word in anger spoken, While proud eyes flashed through bitter burning tears; But oh, I felt that fatal word had broken The cord of love that bound our hearts for years. Thy tortured face, that long wild look of sorrow, Like some pale ghost, must haunt me while I live; And yet, how bright, how full of joy the morrow, Had I but breathed one simple word—‘Forgive!’

I did not hear thy tender voice appealing, Nor marked thy anguish when I cried, ‘Depart!’ Too blind to see thy pitying glance, revealing The generous promptings of thy noble heart. How could I know that faithful heart was yearning, Though crushed and wounded to its inmost core, To take me back, like weary bird returning In fear and trembling, when the storm is o’er!

‘Remember, love, that it may be for ever; To see my face no more by night or day. Be calm, rash heart, think well before we sever; Recall the angry word, and bid me stay.’ Dead silence fell; the song-birds hushed their singing. ‘Enough,’ I proudly cried; ‘I choose my fate.’ While ever through my maddened brain kept ringing The death-knell of my love—too late, too late!

‘Forgive, forgive!’ I wailed, the wild tears streaming, As, ’mid the moaning trees, I stood alone; ‘Love, let thy kisses wake me from my dreaming.’ Thy pleading voice, thy tortured face, was gone. That angry word, I may recall it never; For o’er thy narrow grave, rank weeds have grown. ‘Remember, love, that it may be for ever.’ Ah, words prophetic! love, had I but known!

My locks are gray, my eyes are dim with weeping, The face once loved by thee, no longer fair; Beneath the daisies, thou art calmly sleeping: There, a lone woman often kneels in prayer. Ah, sweetheart mine, thou art so lowly lying, Thou canst not hear the tearful voice above, That with the night-wind evermore is sighing: ‘I spoke in anger! oh, forgive me, love!’

FANNY FORRESTER.

* * * * *

Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Paternoster Row, LONDON, and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH.

* * * * *

_All Rights Reserved._