Chapter 4
Their strange treatment of the dead shows what a strong hold custom and faith can have over a people; believing that fire is a symbol of Deity, and also revering the earth, neither cremation nor burial of the dead is permitted. The Towers of Silence, five of them occupying the most beautiful site on Malabar Hill, and surrounded by spacious grounds with trees, shrubbery, and flowers, hold the Parsee dead.
These towers are of whitewashed stone, two hundred and seventy-five feet in circumference, and twenty-five feet in height; the upper floors are of iron grating, with three circles, whereon the corpses are placed; the inner circle is for children, the next for women, and the outer one for men. Thus placed, the vultures, which have been hovering about awaiting their prey, complete the work, and soon only the skeletons remain; these are thrown into a circular well in the centre of the enclosure, where they quickly turn to dust. This well has perforated holes in the bottom, so that the action of the rain can carry away the dust to still another receptacle, which in time reaches the sea. Previous to the ceremony, one hundred or more mourners, robed in white, may be seen walking up the hill, preceded by four men, carrying the bier on their shoulders. They pass into the house of prayer for a time, and then proceed to the Towers, where they are met by the only two men (of the outcast class) who are ever permitted to enter, to whom the body is consigned for the final rite.
And yet, in spite of all this gruesomeness, the Parsees are a happy, social people, and their entertainments, particularly their weddings, are described as presenting a brilliant array of bejewelled women, tastefully dressed in the soft tinted silks they so much affect, with the long graceful veils falling to the feet. This is the only head covering worn in a carriage or on the street. The men, however, usually wear the conventional European dress, but on ceremonial occasions a white costume is required, with a small black hat.
Another sombre feature of Indian life is the prevalence of caste, which no foreigner can expect to understand, so complex is the system. There are four general classes: the Brahman, or princely caste (this has four subdivisions); the military caste; the commercial caste; and the laboring caste, commonly called "coolies." These in their turn admit of many subdivisions, and when we realize that caste is hereditary and that whatever a man's ambition he can never rise above his station, even though he seek to secure promotion, we may understand what a yoke it imposes on the people.
Another bar is custom, which is quite as iron-clad as is caste; whenever any improvement is suggested, either in dress or in living, the suggestion is usually met with the reply that it is prevented by custom. This applies particularly to the agricultural class, among whom the crude ploughs and other out-of-date implements cannot be replaced by modern ones, as it has been the custom to use the former. Even the carrying of heavy burdens on the head cannot be given up; woe to any one who suggests substituting the carrying of a basket! A laughable incident is told of a European gentleman who employed a number of men to carry sand; thinking to lighten their labor, he purchased wheelbarrows, but on visiting the scene of action a week later, he found the men with the barrows on their heads! No doubt, the reply to his protest was, "It is custom."
Another deplorable condition in India is found among women, particularly of the lower classes, as they are considered of a more inferior order than the men of the family and are treated with little respect, being virtually slaves. The higher class lead secluded lives, but do not escape the inflexible law that demands the marriage of a girl by the age of fourteen, or the ostracism thrust upon the child widow, who, on returning to a home of which she was once an honored member, finds herself virtually an outcast. Her pretty clothes are taken from her, and she is required to do the menial work of the family; this is the Indian protest against the abolishing of the suttee, or the burning of widows on the funeral pyre of their husbands,--cruelties prevented by English rule, as are also the practice of child suicide and the passing of the Juggernaut car over the prostrate bodies of living victims.
These phases are not pleasant to contemplate, but are none the less necessary to know, if one is to form even a superficial idea of "conditions." It is gratifying to learn that still more reforms are advocated, and that there are to be more schools established, similar to the one originated by Ramabai, not far from Bombay, as a refuge for child widows. She received financial aid when in the United States a few years since. Mrs. Annie Besant has also established, at Benares, a school under Theosophical auspices, called Central Hindu College; this has for its object the combination of religious, moral, mental, and athletic instruction for Hindu youths.
The European residents of Bombay lead their own lives, and the social usages are quite the same as in England; the usual "sports" abound there, such as golf, tennis, and cricket, polo, and the races, while yachting has great prestige under the auspices of the aristocratic yacht club on Apollo Bunder.
The Victoria and Albert Museum has a fine building, but an unimportant collection; it stands in Victoria Gardens (a park of thirty-four acres, well laid out), and near the south entrance are the remains of the stone elephant which gave the island of Elephanta its name; the gardens are a popular resort. In another portion of the city is the best statue of Queen Victoria to be found in India.
An unusually fine market building is surmounted by a handsome clock-tower. There are large, well-equipped hospitals and a college, in addition to the number of buildings for public uses. One frequently sees gayly painted mosques and temples. Among the many ruins, those of Siva, called the Caves of Elephanta, are of most interest.
A steam launch was taken at the Apollo Bunder, and, after an hour and a half on the bay, we arrived at the island; the landing was not agreeable, and we were met with a chorus of voices from boys and men, crying "Memsahib" this and "Memsahib" that; some were beggars, others were intent on renting their "chairs" for the ascent of the hill.
The caves are excavations in the solid rock from fifteen to seventeen feet in height; originally there had been a plan, showing the arrangement of columns and colonnades, but the depredations of the followers of Mohammed in the past are everywhere to be seen. The entrance to one cave, however, is well preserved, as is also a group, almost life size, of Siva, Vishnu, and Brahma, called the Trinity. The caves are said to be the home of many deadly snakes, but none appeared, and a death-like stillness prevailed; once in the sunshine again, we met a snake charmer with a lively collection of what seemed to be cobras, but we declined to gaze upon them.
Further visits to the streets and bazars revealed new scenes, and such a variety of nationalities! As Sir Edwin Arnold has written: "Here are specimens of every race and nation of the East, Arabs from Muscat, Persians from the Gulf, Afghans from the northern frontier, black shaggy negroes from Zanzibar, islanders from the Maldives and Laccadives; Malays and Chinese throng and jostle with Parsees in their sloping hats, with Jews, Lascars, Rajputs, Fakirs, European Sepoys, and Sahibs."
My vivid impression of Bombay is a memory of the June-like temperature (in December), the lovely drives, and the never-ending panorama of the water front as seen from my hotel windows, sometimes dazzlingly bright in the sunlight, and again subdued, as the soft opalescent tints of the twilight enveloped the landscape in a shadowy haze. Before me lay ocean steamers, merchantmen, a man of war, yachts, and many smaller vessels, with rowboats of diverse pattern; to the left was the pier, while the English flag floated from the attractive yacht club. It was, however, a typical Continental view, and not an Oriental one, so sharp an impress has England made on a city and island which were not acquired by conquest (it is pleasant to note), but as the marriage portion of Catharine of Braganza, of Portugal, when she became the bride of King Charles II of England. This transference was a fortunate thing for Bombay, all foreign residents and tourists agree, but native appreciation, if there is any, seems to slumber, as is the usual rule where colonization exists.
The equipment of a party leaving for a tour through India is important, for a poor guide or an indifferent travelling servant (also called bearer) would mar the pleasure. Bedding and towels for each member of the party must be looked after (mostly for night travel, as the hotels now usually prepare the beds), the guides must also be supplied, and one must be careful to have appropriate clothing for the journey. Your travelling servant is, according to custom, not expected to do any menial service (so considered), such as strapping your trunks, or removing your hand luggage from your room. This work is performed by so-called coolies; of course, a travelling servant may be so obliging as to offer to carry your handbag (as was often done by ours), but you must be duly appreciative of this show of favor.
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JEYPORE, _December 10th_: On the morning of our departure from Bombay, we each found a fat, brown, English "hold-all," enclosing bedding, which was added to our luggage, the aggregate requiring much additional space in our compartments. Our route to Jeypore lay through Ahmedabad, once a place of much importance, and still of interest on account of its artistic mosques. But the lack of hotel accommodations for a party deterred us from stopping over, and also prevented our visiting the celebrated Jain temples at Mount Abû, a ride of several miles to the mountains in a jinrikisha. I would, however, advise all tourists to take this trip, even at some personal discomfort, as the temples are said to be marvellously beautiful.
The arrival at Jeypore was in the chill of late evening; as we approached the Hotel Kaiser-i-Hind (the best the place affords), a blaze of light showed us a large open veranda, furnished with chairs, sofas, and tables, and evidently the salon of the hotel. My room opened from the end of the balcony, and it was large and cheerless, so all hope of warmth vanished; a small, dark bathroom was at one side (with no light except when a door was opened), furnished with the regulation high round bathtub and a shaky washstand; neither of the outer doors would lock! The floors on opposite sides of both rooms contained ominous-looking square openings, suggesting the possibilities of certain reptiles which we had been told existed, but which we had not yet seen. After viewing all these "tranquillizing" influences, we retired, having first undone the distasteful "hold-all" for extra bedding.
The next morning dawned without the door having been opened and without the appearance of the dreaded lizards. The veranda salon presented an animated appearance; several men in turbans and wearing camel's-hair shawls (draped around the shoulders) were sitting on the floor, displaying their many commodities, which included embroideries, shawls, garnet beads (a specialty of Jeypore), necklaces of various kinds, together with swords, daggers, and the like, all warranted to be antique. "Memsahib" was heard in every direction, for the arrival of a party of supposedly rich Americans had been duly heralded. Resisting their importunities for the time being, we entered an inner room and found comfort and a fairly good breakfast waiting us. Such persistency and eloquence, nevertheless, as were later displayed by those dealers in describing their wares are seldom heard! Fortunate for us that some of the articles were attractive enough to be purchased, stilling the clamor for a time! But as we had been told that this would be the usual programme on our arrival at any place in the Orient, the future prospect was not alluring.
While over a quarter of India's population as well as a third of its area is under native rule, the "beaten track" is subject to English régime. Hence the visit to Jeypore, the capital of the independent province of Rajputana, is always regarded as a new experience. We found indeed a unique city, situated on a plain, hemmed in by lofty hills, with streets and buildings the color of old rose pink, and with broad, regularly laid out thoroughfares, two long straight streets intersecting each other at right angles near the palace, thus forming four corners. Here is a fountain, and the point is a centre of life and action; crowds of people surge back and forth, almost trodden underfoot by the ever-present, ponderous elephants, camels, and bullocks, drawing the little _ekkas_,--every one disputing the right of way. Proceed in any direction and more unusual street scenes present themselves along a single block than can elsewhere be found, and this in a city less than two centuries old! It is due, however, to the barbaric character of an environment where a gorgeous Maharaja, tigers, leopards, and elephants all figure in the scene, where the crowds always seem happy and life is one large "merry go round."
The Palace of the Wind is a peculiar structure; visitors are not admitted, and it is usually reserved for the guests of the Maharaja on State occasions, the ruler being very hospitable. It is said that a polite intimation on the part of a tourist that he desires to visit the interior, coupled with some slight credential, will cause one or two elephants and a body-guard to be placed at his disposal for the expedition.
Not much of the "Palace of Occupation" was seen; a large audience room was finely proportioned, but looked uninviting, as the rugs were rolled up and the furniture covered. The stables adjoining were, however, of great interest, as three hundred horses were in the collection, some of them of rare value. Later, we visited the elephant stalls and the leopard and tiger cages. In another locality the observatory, covering a large open space, was filled with the quaint old devices, now obsolete, for studying the heavens.
The long streets are lined with bazars of the usual plan but much larger; workers in brass predominated, that being a specialty of Jeypore. There is a flourishing Art School where old forms of vases, lamps, and boxes are reproduced, the original designs being loaned from the Victoria and Albert Memorial Museum, which occupies an artistic building in the centre of spacious grounds. There one may find a rare collection of old brass, gold and silver enamel, wood carving, weaving and embroidery, all classified and arranged in historical order.
A native school, or college, greatly interested us; there were groups of boys in a number of rooms, all belonging to the best Rajput families. There are special rooms devoted to Sanskrit, English (here the boys recited a poem in unison), history, logic, philosophy, and the natural sciences.
There were a number of unpretentious Hindu temples, and the Maharaja is said to be quite punctilious in his observance of religious forms. He was absent from the city, but several brothers of his were seen driving, clad in long garments of gaudy-colored striped calico, and wearing small turbans; the dress of the women was also peculiar, the skirt being so full that as they walked they resembled balloons; they are noted for wearing a profusion of jewelry,--necklaces by the half-dozen, bracelets sometimes nearly to the elbow, anklets, heavy earrings, nose-rings, and finger-rings without number.
Animals and birds in large quantities added motion and color to the street scenes, together with brightly caparisoned elephants, stately camels, and white bullocks with their long horns and dreamy eyes, drawing the little two-wheeled _ekka_, which sometimes carried four occupants. Peacocks flashed in and out at every turn (they are considered a sacred bird and are therefore protected), while blue-breasted pigeons came in clouds whenever there was a prospect of a feast.
There are processions of various kinds, the highest function of all being a wedding procession, where the brilliancy varies according to the amount of means that can be expended by the prospective bridegroom. In one afternoon we witnessed eight of these spectacles; the first was given by a man of wealth who was seated on an elephant, the palanquin of which was gorgeous in its decoration; he himself was richly dressed, as were the attendant friends. The procession was preceded by a band of music, and in the group were six nautch, or dancing girls; at intervals of about two blocks, the cavalcade stopped, matting was thrown down, and the dancers came and executed a slow-measured dance, which continued for about five minutes; then the procession moved on to the next point, this programme continuing until the home of the bride was reached. All of this we witnessed. The other seven wedding processions presented variations; in one the principal actor was a boy of about fourteen who looked terrified; two of the processions consisted of poor men; sometimes carriages were substituted for the elephants, and the dancing-girls were omitted, but there were always music and a crowd.
Elephants figured prominently in our trip to the old city of Amber, five miles distant, and the former capital of Rajputana. We left our carriage some distance away and were conveyed the remainder of the journey by two elephants, named Munsie and Bunsie, with gayly painted faces and trunks, furnished through the courtesy of the Maharaja. In this fashion we made our entrance.
The old city of Amber is situated below the palace, which is on the side of a mountain, with a long-stretching fort back of it; the situation, together with the gray walls of the palace and the fort, all makes a striking picture, reminding one of mediæval times; the palace is well preserved, many of the rooms are artistic, and the fine public audience chamber particularly impressed us. Here large gatherings are held in connection with ceremonial occasions at Jeypore; the Prince of Wales had been entertained here two years previous, at which time the city of Jeypore was made resplendent with a fresh coat of the rose pink preparation.
Near the entrance to the Amber Palace was an exquisite little Hindu temple, dedicated to the terrible goddess, Kali, who delights in sacrifice; this was presided over by a revolting-looking priest, and there were evident traces of the daily morning sacrifice of a goat. Once a year one hundred goats are offered up, together with other animals; formerly human beings were sacrificed to appease the goddess, but this slaughter is now prohibited by law. In a well-kept garden back of the palace there is a fine collection of tropical fruits and of unfamiliar shrubs. This ruined city of Amber must have presented a wonderful spectacle two centuries ago, before the pageants and old-time customs were transferred to its modern prototype, Jeypore.
Another afternoon's experience in Jeypore seemed even more like a scene from a comic opera,--only the curtain is never lowered in this most spectacular city in India, if not in the entire world.
The pleasure of our stay in Jeypore was greatly enhanced by the intelligence of the local guide, who was of the Brahman class and broadly educated; he had an enlarged idea of the benefit to be derived from a sojourn in the New World, but he seemed uncertain with regard to securing a position in New York. One of the gentlemen suggested that he might at first seek employment as a butler, but his reply was that it would be impossible for him to engage in any menial work on account of his caste; this is a mild illustration of the domination of social lines.
A little wave of excitement was created on the morning of December 12th by a slight earthquake; we were still further shaken up by the constant presence of the persistent venders whenever we were at the hotel, who even followed us to the station the hour of our departure for Delhi, when articles were purchased by us at half their original price.
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DELHI, _December 13th_: A greater contrast can hardly be imagined than that between barbaric, pleasure-loving Jeypore, and Delhi, a city full of old-time associations, whose triumphs of architectural skill and sculptured devices have won for it the admiration of the world.
The fort and palace, together with the adjacent mosque, called Jumma Musjid, are the chief centres of interest and the points we first visited. The two places suffered greatly during the mutiny of 1857, and the old Mogul capital has passed through so many vicissitudes that a little historical setting seems necessary.
Of the city's early history very little is known before the Mohammedan conquest, in 1193 A.D. There are, however, the ruins of two Hindu forts of the eleventh century in old Delhi (covering many miles south of Delhi), as well as the famous iron pillar of Kutub Minar, to be alluded to later. Delhi was not favored by the greatest of Mogul rulers, King Akbar, or by his son, King Jahangir; however, his grandson, Shah Jahan, built the fort in 1638, and later the palace and great mosque--hence the name, Shah Jahanabad, and in his connection with the Taj Mahal and palace at Agra, he won the title of the "Great Builder"; he also transferred the capital from Agra to Delhi.
A century later, the city was sacked by Nadir Shah, of Persia, and a general massacre occurred. Although finally defeated, he took with him many treasures, among them the priceless Peacock Throne and the valuable Kohinur diamond; the latter is now in the possession of King Edward of England.
Other changes followed, until, in 1804, British occupation was effected; but even then the descendants of the Mogul monarchs were allowed some show of royalty, until after the King's treachery and deposition at the time of the mutiny of 1857. This must be briefly alluded to, as it is truly said, "Delhi is steeped in mutiny memories!"
Various causes have been assigned for this great mutiny of the Bengal troops, but it was probably due in part to a season of unrest, some minor event precipitating the crisis. The revolt occurred on May 10th, at Meerut, forty miles distant; at first there were but twenty-five hundred men, then other regiments joined them, and, on their arrival in Delhi, they attacked the civil offices, and the inmates were compelled to flee to the fort, where they were murdered.