Travels in the Far East
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Title: Travels in the Far East
Author: Ellen Mary Hayes Peck
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TRAVELS IN THE FAR EAST
[Illustration: _The Pyramids from the Nile, Cairo_]
TRAVELS IN THE FAR EAST
by
ELLEN M. H. PECK
(Mrs. James Sidney Peck)
New York
Thomas Y. Crowell & Co.
Publishers
Copyright 1909
By Ellen M. H. Peck
The University Press, Cambridge, U.S.A.
OZYMANDIAS
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings;
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
--PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY
TO MY DAUGHTER
FOREWORD
As the inspiration which caused the making of this "Tour" came from my
daughter (the "you" of my story), and as she wished a record of the same
published, my desire has been to give her as complete an idea of my
journeyings as is possible by descriptive text and illustrations. The
interest of friends in the plan has caused them to be included in my
thought, and if the public desire to be added to the personal
acquaintances whom I regard as my readers it will prove a pleasant
recognition of a modest plan.
The nine months tour included Egypt, Northern India, Burma, Southern
India, Ceylon, Malay Peninsula, Java, Siam, Southern China, Japan,
Northern China, Manchuria, and Korea.
Realizing that impressions suddenly formed are not always to be trusted,
an attempt has been made to have them tested by comparison with those
formed by a longer residence.
In like manner only statements have been made on the authority of those
who claimed to have knowledge and experience. The lack of guidance of
either a Baedeker or a Murray has been felt in Java, Siam, China,
Manchuria, and Korea, small local guide books and guides not being an
equivalent as regards accurate testimony.
May these pages prove a pleasant reminiscence to those who have visited
the scenes described, and an introduction to those who have not thus
travelled, but some of whom may plan to "do likewise."
E.M.H.P.
MILWAUKEE, December, 1908
CONTENTS
PAGE
MILWAUKEE 1
CHICAGO 1
NEW YORK 1
THE AZORES 4
GIBRALTAR 4
MARSEILLES 5
PORT SAÏD 7
CAIRO 9
SUEZ CANAL 34
ADEN, ARABIA 36
BOMBAY 37
JEYPORE 48
DELHI 56
AGRA 67
FATEHPUR-SIKRI 76
CAWNPORE 79
LUCKNOW 80
BENARES 82
SILIGURI 88
DARJEELING 89
CALCUTTA 93
BURMA 97
PROME 109
RANGOON 109
SHWE DAGON 111
MADRAS 116
TANJORE 118
TRICHINOPOLY 120
MADURA 122
TUTICORIN 124
COLOMBO 124
NUWARA ELIYA 127
KANDY 129
ANURADHAPURA 132
CEYLON 141
BATAVIA, JAVA 145
BUITENZORG 147
GAROET 150
DJOKJAKARTA 154
MAOS 166
BANGKOK 174
SINGAPORE 201
JOHORE 201
HONG-KONG 204
CANTON 209
MACAO 216
SHANGHAI 225
NAGASAKI 229
KOBE 231
ONOMICHI 232
OSAKA 233
KYOTO 234
NARA 246
YAMADA 248
NAGOYA 250
YOKOHAMA 251
NIKKO 252
TOKIO 260
A VISIT TO NORTH CHINA 264
PEKING 273
TIENTSIN 301
SHANHAIKWAN 302
MUKDEN 305
NIUCHWANG 309
DALNY 310
PORT ARTHUR 310
CHEMULPO, SEOUL 317
TOWARD YOKOHAMA 326
HOMEWARD BOUND 345
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
The Pyramids from the Nile, Cairo _Frontispiece_
Meshrebeeyeah windows 6
A bridge spanning the Nile at Cairo 11
The peculiar head-dress of the Cairo women 13
The Mosque of Amr 17
The interior of the Tomb Mosque of Kalaûn 20
Fountain in the Mosque of Sultan Hasan 24
Openwork dagobas 26
Citadel and Mosque of Mahomet Ali 28
The obelisk marking the site of Heliopolis 33
The Suez Canal near Port Saïd 36
Aden, Arabia 39
Victoria Station at Bombay 41
Queen's Road at Bombay 43
Country scene in Bombay 44
A Tower of Silence 46
Entrance to one of the Caves of Elephanta 48
Street scene in Jeypore 51
A Hindu woman of Jeypore 53
Interior view of Amber Palace 55
General view of Amber Palace and fort near Jeypore 57
A gateway built during the seventeenth century in Delhi 59
The Pearl Mosque at Delhi 59
The Hall of Private Audience in the Palace, Delhi 61
Jumma Musjid, Delhi 61
The tomb of Emperor Humayun 64
Northern colonnade of the Islam mosque, showing ruined arch 66
Kutub Minar, the Tower of Victory in Old Delhi 68
Gateway leading to Taj Mahal 70
Taj Mahal 70
Screen in Taj Mahal 70
Shah Jahan and his wife in whose memory the Taj was built 70
Agra Palace and part of wall and gateway to the fort 73
An Octagon Tower of the Agra Palace 73
The Pearl Mosque 74
Akbar's tomb in Sikandra 74
General view of Fatehpur-Sikri 77
A column in the Audience Hall (Diwan-i-Khas) 78
Jasmine Tower and distant view of the Taj 81
The ghat at Cawnpore 81
The Residency at Lucknow 82
Bathing ghat, Benares 84
Burning ghat, Benares, where cremations occur 84
The Tope of Sarnath and the Jain Temple near Benares 86
A view of Darjeeling and the Kanchanjanga Range 89
A Nepaulese group 91
The Government House in Calcutta 94
An avenue of palms in the Botanical Gardens 96
Fort Dufferin and the moat, Mandalay 98
Mandalay palace and its tower, called The Centre of the Universe 98
The Arakan Pagoda 100
One of the four gateways to the 450 Pagodas 100
The Queen's Golden Monastery 103
Karen women in Mandalay 103
Burmese country house near Mandalay 104
A national dance at Mandalay 107
On the Irrawaddy River, near Sagoing 109
General view of Rangoon 111
Shwe Dagon Pagoda at Rangoon 112
Entrance gateway, Shwe Dagon Pagoda 112
Chapels on platform around Shwe Dagon, Rangoon 112
Elephants carrying logs at Rangoon 115
The Gilded Sule as seen from Hytche Square 115
General view of Madras 117
The Great Subrahmanya Temple at Tanjore 119
Fort Rock, Trichinopoly 121
The Golden Lily Tank, Madura 123
Entrance to the Madura Temple 123
Street Scene in Colombo 124
General view of Nuwara Eliya 129
General view of Kandy 131
Entrance to the Botanical Gardens, Kandy 132
Temple of the Sacred Tooth in Kandy 132
Ruins of Anuradhapura 135
Near the Sacred Road, Thuparama Dagoba 136
The Moonstone Steps 139
Mihitale Steps 141
Street scene in Kandy, Ceylon 143
The canal in the old city of Batavia 144
Batavia, Java 147
View of Mt. Salak from the Hotel Belle Vue 149
A village scene in Garoet, Java 151
The crater of Papandajang 153
The ruined temple of Prambanam 155
Bas-reliefs in the Siva Temple, Prambanam 155
The stairs leading to a Prambanam temple 155
The Three Graces in the Lara Jongram Temple, Java 157
The old temple at Mendoet 159
Boro Boedor, in Java 162
Stairway of Boro Boedor, Java 162
Boro Boedor, Java, showing one part of the gallery 162
A public square in Djokjakarta, Java 165
Designing sarongs in Batavia 167
Landscape near Batavia 169
Javanese vegetable sellers 170
A Javanese dignitary and his attendants 172
The King of Siam 175
In the Royal Palace of Wang Chang, Bangkok 180
Entrance to Prakeo, the Royal Temple 182
The Klong Canal at Bangkok 185
The famous Elephants' Kraal 189
Tower of Royal Palace at Ban-Pa-In 190
A Siamese girl 193
A royal barge at Bangkok 194
The collier quay at Singapore 201
The Sultan's Palace at Johore 202
A general view of Hong-Kong 205
The public gardens in Hong-Kong 205
A typical street in a Chinese city 207
A five-story pagoda 211
Temple of the Five Genii at Canton 212
The San Paulo Façade 215
The bund at Macao, called Praia Grande 216
The bund at Shanghai 224
Mogi Road at Nagasaki 228
The main street in Kobe 231
The fort and castle at Osaka 232
The rapids near Kyoto 235
Bamboo Avenue in Kyoto 235
The Golden Pavilion 237
The largest pine tree in the world at Lake Biwa 238
Kasuga Temple 243
The Temple of Ise (Yamada) 249
Nagoya Castle 250
The way to the Temple, Ieyasu 254
Kokamon: Iemitzu Temple 254
A five-story pagoda 257
The gate called Yomei-mon 259
The Imperial Palace at Tokio 261
Court of the Temple Shiba at Tokio 263
Gate of Chionin in Kyoto 264
Ueno Park pagoda 264
The Little Orphan Rock in the Yangtse River 268
Road to Kaling above Kia-Kiang 270
The Hankow bund 272
The Great Wall at Peking 274
Hata-men Gate 277
Peking girls 278
Llama Temple 278
A Peking cart 281
The Confucius Temple 281
Temple of Classics 281
The Inner Temple of Heaven 282
Outer Heaven, Temple of Heaven, Peking 285
The White Pagoda of the Yellow Temple 286
The Winter Palace of the Forbidden City 289
View from the Forbidden City 288
Marble Terrace of the Summer Palace 291
Marble Bridge of the Summer Palace 291
Nankow Pass 292
A tower of the Great Wall 295
Five Arch: First pailow of the Ming Tomb 295
Emperor Yunglo's tomb 297
Emperor Kwangsu of China 298
The Dowager Empress of China 300
Gordon Hall at Tientsin 303
Old gateway of Tientsin 303
The Temple at Mukden 306
Dalny 310
Port Arthur before the siege 313
Tiger-Tail Promontory and Port Arthur during the conflict 315
203-Metre Hill, Port Arthur--The last point to be taken 317
The city wall and gate of Seoul 319
A group of Koreans 320
An old tomb of a high official 323
A white marble pagoda in Seoul 324
Street scene in Seoul 326
Torii Miyajima 328
Stone lanterns, Miyajima 330
Islands of the Inland Sea 332
Mississippi Bay 335
View of Miyanoshita 336
Theatre Street in Yokohama 340
Mountains around Hakona 343
Mount Pali, Honolulu 344
TRAVELS IN THE FAR EAST
Milwaukee, _October 27th_, 1907: The adieux have been said, the friends
have departed, and the train is moving slowly out of the station; a
profusion of flowers, tempting new books, and other gifts are visible
proofs of the thoughtfulness of friends on the eve of a long journey in
untried fields, and it seems as if I had lost my moorings and was
drifting out on an unknown way.
* * * * *
CHICAGO is reached, and after a hurried transfer of trains I am speeding
on to my objective point, New York. An interval of two days and there is
a hurried departure for the pier and "the die is cast."
There is always a sense of exhilaration on the sailing of a steamer from
New York, despite the sadness of the leave-taking; and the receipt of
many gifts, telegrams, and letters keeps up the excitement until after
the departure of the pilot. But as the shore line recedes and we drift
out to sea, there comes a realization of an entire change of environment
and of the rending of former interests, which is, of itself, a fine
preparation for the mental equipment necessary to assimilate the new
scenes to be visited.
The November Second party of Collver Tours "Round the World," sailing on
the _Friedrich der Grosse_, North German Lloyd line, was to embrace ten
individuals, aside from an accomplished Director, each to be independent
of the other, but all supposed to fit into a harmonious whole. After the
formal presentations were over, there came a sense of relief, for
refined manners, culture, and the experience of much travel were
apparent, and promised well for the months of companionship which were
to ensue.
The localities represented by the several members in the party were as
follows: Boston, three; Philadelphia, four; New York, one; Lafayette,
Indiana, one; Ottawa, Illinois, one; and Milwaukee, Wisconsin, one. This
is an indication of varied personality and diversified taste.
The elements did not prove propitious in the days that followed our
departure, and we were forced to bear the stress of wind and storm with
becoming resignation, feeling personally thankful for indemnity from
fatal results. Such a voyage does not lend itself to much diversion or
variety of interests, but there were the usual attempts at gayety in the
line of dancing, music, and the exhilarating "Captain's dinner"; hence
with congenial people the days were pleasantly whiled away. Among the
fellow passengers were some former friends, but I will mention only
those who in a sense belong to the public.
There was Mr. Edward P. Allis with his family; he was formerly of
Milwaukee, but for many years has been a resident of Mentone, France,
where he has continued his researches along biological lines, and where
he has also superintended the publication of a valuable magazine
relating to his special subject. I am happy to state that he has
received, in consequence, distinguished recognition from the French
Government, even the decoration of the Legion of Honor. He is also the
recipient of orders from other foreign governments, and the Wisconsin
University has conferred a high degree upon him.
Another friend was Dr. Baldwin, of Rome, Italy, who has an international
reputation as a specialist on diseases of the heart.
A new acquaintance was Mr. Theodore M. Davis, of Newport, Rhode Island,
who from November to April, on his finely appointed dahabiyeh, makes the
Nile his home, at Luxor. For some years he has superintended valuable
excavations in the Tombs of the Kings at Thebes, defraying the expense
of the work himself. He holds the only concession granted by the
Egyptian Government, on condition that the result of his discoveries
become the property of the State; these so-termed "finds" are very
valuable, and a special room has been devoted to them in the Museum of
Gizeh at Cairo.
Our arrival at the Azores was the first excitement of the voyage, and I
had expected to renew the pleasant associations of the day we passed
together on San Miguel, at the picturesque city of Ponta Delgada. But,
alas! we sailed on and there was only a memory; by the subtle power of
association another memory haunted me also, that of Funchal, Madeira,
with its balmy air and luxuriant vegetation.
* * * * *
GIBRALTAR: The world-renowned fortress of Gibraltar was reached after
some hours' delay, and we were welcomed by sunshine and a June-like
temperature.
The attractions there are not numerous, but they are unique;
unfortunately, a visit to the fortified galleries is now denied to
visitors, but a beautiful drive to Europa Point and to the neutral
ground, together with a walk through the park called the Alameda, is a
fair compensation. The shops which line the narrow streets possess an
Oriental aspect, and the general view of the massive fortifications
afforded much interest to those who had not made a previous visit. But
the picturesqueness of former visits--the motley crowd of Moors, Arabs,
Spaniards, and Turks at the wharf--was lacking; while the venders of
fruit, flowers, and laces were far less numerous, but quite as
persistent, as of old.
* * * * *
_November 12th_: The steamer _Magnolia_, of the P. & O. line, became our
home to Port Saïd, named for the Viceroy of Egypt, who granted the
concession for the building of the Suez Canal. We were at once charmed
with the general arrangement of the vessel, the salons for ordinary use
being large and airy; the staterooms were smaller than those of the
Atlantic service, but were finely ventilated.
The passage to Marseilles, France, consumed about thirty-six hours, and
the time was spent partly in planning a sight-seeing expedition to take
place immediately after our arrival. The Gulf of Lyons, however, gave us
a stormy reception; and, as the gale (mistral) increased, the harbor was
reached. To be near a destination and yet unable to enter the port was
most tantalizing!
* * * * *
MARSEILLES: The approach to Marseilles is rather disappointing, as there
are intervening islands of bare rocks; but later the heights appear, the
Church of Notre Dame de la Garde being a prominent feature of the view.
Owing to the delay in landing, only two hours' stay on shore was
granted, which was a great disappointment to many of us, but less so to
me, as I had previously visited the city, and remembered the enjoyment
derived from my stay there.
On our return to the steamer, a novel sight presented itself. The vessel
was anchored close to the dock on which is a low embarkation shed,
fronting on a wide passage-way, which was now filled with a motley
group. At the back there was a fringe of color from many baskets of
fruit, flowers, and plants in charge of dealers, clad in costumes of
varied hues, with red shawls tied over their heads. Each hawker was
intent on extracting coins from the interested spectators, who hung over
the side of the steamer. In the foreground were acrobats of every
description, dressed in all the colors of the rainbow; among them was a
group of five musicians of tender years, an acrobat in pink tights who
was exploiting the skill of his little daughter, scarcely five years of
age, and another similarly cruel father, who was compelling a little
girl to go through all manner of contortions. There was also a group of
little girl dancers. This picturesque but painful sight impressed us
with the necessity for the establishment here of a society for the
prevention of cruelty to children.
[Illustration: _Meshrebeeyeah windows_]
Two hundred and fifty more passengers were added to the steamer list at
Marseilles, and henceforth the vessel was to be taxed to her utmost
capacity. Most of the passengers were _en route_ for a five weeks'
voyage to Australia, many of them were friends, and a general spirit of
jollity prevailed, the decks presenting the appearance of a seaside
veranda, with their tables, lounging-chairs, work-baskets, and toys. A
"sports" committee was at once formed, and games of all kinds were
played (always for prizes), while a concert, dances, and bridge
enlivened the evening hours.
On the night of November 17th we passed the volcano of Stromboli (now
inactive), our steamer gliding between it on one side and the isles of
Pina on the other; some hours later the Straits of Messina were reached;
while, farther on, the island of Candida was passed. A church service
was held aboard both morning and evening (the latter in the second-class
salon), this being the invariable rule on English steamers.
* * * * *
PORT SAÏD, _November 20th_: As we approached Port Saïd, everything was
at first shadowy--the lighthouse, a group of palms, and a minaret
seeming to rise out of the sea. There were a few points of land called
Damietta, but all else was flat. At last we steamed into the harbor,
anchoring at the mouth of the Suez Canal, and were taken ashore in a
launch amidst a confused yelling of voices,--indeed a perfect Babel.
With only three or four hours in Port Saïd, there was little time for a
close survey, but we walked through some of the streets, called at a few
shops of no special interest, and had afternoon tea at one of the
hotels, to the accompaniment of music furnished by native musicians. We
had always heard Port Saïd spoken of as "the wickedest place in the
world," and we commented on the apparent absence of such a condition;
but we were assured by one of the tourists that wickedness did exist,
and we accepted the statement without an attempt to verify it.
Port Saïd gains its principal importance from being the starting-point
of that great waterway, the Suez Canal, of which we form our first
impression from the fact that ten years' time was required for its
construction and $100,000,000 were expended on the work, the payment of
which impoverished Egypt and was one of the causes that led to the
protectorate of England. This is said to be a humiliating condition to
all true Egyptians.
The monument at Port Saïd, raised in honor of Ferdinand de Lesseps, as
the founder of the enterprise, emphasizes France's contribution to the
project.
* * * * *
CAIRO, _November 20th_: A late train to Cairo caused us to arrive near
midnight, an inopportune time for first impressions, but the memory of a
former visit caused a pleasant anticipation of scenes to be revisited. A
week, however, was too short a time in which to cover the ground, but by
persistent effort on our part much was accomplished.
Having headquarters at Shepheard's Hotel--with its foreign arrangement
of rooms and furnishings, together with its gayly attired attendants,
many of them costumed in red, yellow, green, or blue silk trimmed with
gilt, and wearing silk turbans to match--gave us at once an Oriental
environment. The central location of the building, with the opportunity,
also, which the wide terrace afforded guests for making observations,
offered us an immediate insight into the unique life of the city. The
venders of fruit, flowers, postal cards, and souvenirs formed a
foreground of many colors, while beyond was an unceasing flow of motley
carriages, native vehicles, carts, donkeys, and camels, and sometimes
two resplendent outriders (called "Sikhs"), on fine chargers, heralded
the approach of some dignitary,--a custom which is, however, dying out.
The most novel sight which came to our notice was a wedding procession,
the bride being ever carefully concealed by silken curtains thrown over
either a carriage or a peculiarly constructed litter borne by two
camels, one at the front and one at the back; a band of music preceded,
followed by vehicles of many different kinds containing members of the
bridal party, all _en route_ for the bride's home.
It must be remembered that Cairo, while in one sense a modern city,
presents many clearly defined mediæval phases; this is particularly true
throughout its native quarters, as exemplified in streets and bazars in
the vicinity of the Nile, and in its old-time mosques; in this
connection I would emphasize the bazars, both Turkish and Arabic. Some
of the old irregular thoroughfares on which the bazars are situated
radiate from the wider and more important Muski; then, again, there are
narrower alley-like streets, a veritable tangle! The bazars everywhere
are similarly constructed, but vary in size and importance; they are
box-like in form, from four to six feet in width, and six to eight feet
in height, and are raised one or two feet from the ground, with three
sides enclosed and the fourth open to the street by day, but at night
closed, the fourth wall sliding into place like a folding door.
Here is usually to be found, for a certain distance, but one kind of
goods, be it slippers, brass-work, or embroideries, alternating with
eatables, fruit, pipes, and the like, there being no attempt at
classification. Woe be to the unwary who approach these bazars without
the ability to "bargain"; for there is ever a scale of prices, and the
topmost one is usually exorbitant!
[Illustration: _A bridge spanning the Nile at Cairo_]
Within the open space of his shop sits the dealer, ready for the
contest, sometimes complacently sipping his coffee, or smoking a
cigarette, the long Turkish pipes having been largely abolished. The
courtesy of coffee or a cigarette is often extended to the purchaser,
which possesses a mollifying effect if the discussion over a purchase
has waxed high.
It is said that the scenes in the Turkish bazars on a fête day are like
a picture from the "Arabian Nights," the places being illuminated by
many candles or chandeliers, and covered by awnings formed of rich
shawls, scarfs, and embroideries brought from the interior. This gives
each bazar the appearance of a reception room, with the dealer seated
within, dispensing hospitality, every one being dressed in holiday
attire. The bazars in Cairo are considered an important feature of the
life of the city (as they are in every place throughout the Eastern or
Western Orient), but they are less attractive than those I visited in
Tunis, Constantinople, or Damascus.
The crowd that is passing the shops often proves more interesting than
the display within, as there are natives of all ages and descriptions,
Arabs, Bedouins, Turks, and Egyptians, some mounted on donkeys and some
driving heavily laden camels. Water-carriers with jars, mostly women,
are among them, while the natives usually carry under the arm the
characteristic pigskin, filled with water. These are the sights to be
seen, together with the venders of fruit and vegetables, alternating
with richly equipped carriages, and funeral or bridal processions. Men
and women in their Oriental dress jostle the crowd of sight-seers who
ever throng these ways.
In these, but more often in a better class of streets, we pass the
lovely meshrebîya windows, with their intricate turned lattice-work
designs; they are very frequently oblong projecting windows, but instead
of glass there is used the fine tracery or lattice-work in wood. Sad to
relate, this fine work is sharing in the general decay to be found in
the old quarters of Cairo, and, in a few years, the tourist will only be
able to view the specimens even now being sent to the Arabian Museum,
which institution is, by the way, doing a splendid work in preserving
and classifying all artistic remains, notably those from the crumbling
mosques.
Except in the matter of decay, I found little change in the native
portion of the city since my visit in 1898; but the aspect of the city
proper has grown modern. Fine new streets, public buildings and
residences, are seen everywhere in the Ezbekieh and Ismailian quarters
of the city, while certain sections suggest a European capital. The
Ezbekieh Gardens, opposite the Continental Hotel, form really a small
park in the centre of the city, and are a great resort for tourists as
well as residents.
[Illustration: _The peculiar head-dress of the Cairo women_]
The Ismailian is the fashionable quarter of the city, and it is said
that many wealthy citizens have left their former luxurious native homes
for a modern residence in the new section. Hence many dealers in the
bazars have secured the deserted Oriental homes, and now live in
comparative luxury, showing that conditions and residential centres
change in the Old World as well as in the New.
But note how much more attractive the original home must appear to
native eyes. A passage leads from the street to a spacious court, and
grouped around the court, which usually has a fountain in the centre
(with sometimes one or two trees), are the rooms for general use and
those assigned to guests. The apartments occupied by the women of the
family, commonly called the harem, are not visible, but are generally
spacious and well furnished, even luxuriously appointed, with inlaid
floors, decorated walls, and rich rugs. The light filters through either
meshrebîya or flat latticed windows, for no profane eye can gaze on the
supposed loveliness of damsel and dame, nor can they, in their turn,
gaze outward for any distance, which shows the restricted social
condition of the women.
It is said that they are virtually regarded with contempt, and, though
usually kindly treated in the harem, they are considered only as
ornamental appendages of the home; hence they are rarely educated, and
never in more than those accomplishments, such as music and dancing,
which tend to add to their attractiveness.
The better classes of women are always seen veiled, and, with the
peculiar covering over the nose, one can only judge of their appearance
by their often very beautiful eyes. Oh, the infinite sadness to be found
in the depths of many of them!
I was, however, told by a gentleman, long resident in Cairo, that there
are indications of a gradual change as regards education, the wives of a
few high officials having been educated on broader lines than mere
accomplishments; hence it is to be hoped that the leaven will work in
time. It may also be found later that the transference of the harem from
an Oriental home to a Number 9 residence on a fashionable street will
lessen the seclusion heretofore imposed.
The Nile is always a centre of interest, not only for those who explore
it to the cataracts or Khartoum, but for natives and tourists who throng
its banks to catch a glimpse of the queer sailing craft, and to watch
the never-ending procession that passes over it,--men, women, vehicles,
and animals filling every available space.
It is quite the fashion for parties of tourists to repair to the bridge
at 5 A.M. in order to watch the marketmen, venders of all kinds, and the
heavily laden donkeys and camels fulfilling their part in the labor of
supplying the city markets.
Once across the bridge, the procession from the country is even more
picturesque; and, viewed from a waiting "tram" in the late afternoon,
when all are homeward bound, the scene is most incongruous. Sometimes
four or five heavily veiled women in black robes are seen on one of the
long two-wheeled carts, drawn by an emaciated horse with a native at his
head as a propelling power; next, follow a flock of geese, two or three
score of goats, a group of sheep, four or five camels looking down with
a superior air on the donkeys, as well as pedestrians of many
complexions and of varied dress--Arabs, Bedouins, Soudanese, and
Egyptians,--their queerly shaped turbans and brilliant colors lending
the finishing touch to the scene. Nowhere else in the Orient does such a
view present itself, and its setting is the Nile!
The last glimpse of the Nile, the evening before my departure, will
never be forgotten. The occasion was an invitation to indulge in
afternoon tea at the Hôtel Semiramis, near the entrance to the bridge.
We lingered on for the sunset, which first appeared as a flaming ball
of fire, succeeded by myriad shades of rainbow hues, these fading into
softer tints and later into those more delicate tones that prelude the
twilight. Then silence seemed to brood over the wonderful river, and we
departed.
If the street scenes, the bazars, and the Nile are an index to the
native life of Cairo, a greater claim may be made for the mosques, in
which the city abounds; for they represent political changes, social
evolution, and artistic development, as history proves. To substantiate
this claim of the mosques, a brief digression is necessary.
The origin of Cairo dates back to the Muslim invasion in 640; the
original Arab settlement was called Fustât, the "Town of the Tent,"
which is substantially the old Cairo of to-day. Here was erected almost
at once the first mosque, that of Amr, sometimes called Amru. In 751 a
northeast suburb was added, called El Askar; this was to be the
residence of the Governor, and here also was erected the Mosque of El
Askar. Keeping still to the northeast, another city was added, in 860,
by the first independent Muslim King of Egypt, Ibn Tûlûn, called El
Katâi; the "wards" became divided into separate quarters for various
nations and classes, and here was erected the remarkable Mosque of Ibn
Tûlûn. A fourth city still farther northeast was added a little over a
century later, called El Kâhira (the Cairo of to-day); this did not
become the commercial capital of Egypt, but occupied the same relation
to Fustât that El Askar and Katâi held. The Town of the Tent, resting on
the bank of the Nile, still remained the metropolis, as it did after the
fall of both El Askar and Katâi--the disaster to these latter cities
giving additional prestige to El Kâhira.
[Illustration: _The Mosque of Amr_]
The building of a mosque[1] was regarded by the rulers not only as an
expression of religious zeal, but as a contribution to the life of the
State. Several mosques were erected during the two centuries of Arab
rule, but Amr was the first and most important. It is situated near the
site of the old Roman city of Misr, where Amr first pitched his tent, on
the invasion of Egypt. The outside of the old mosque is not imposing,
but, with the vast court forty thousand feet in area, surrounded by
colonnades consisting of numberless columns with every variety of
capitals (taken from Christian churches), it excites our admiration.
Wooden beams, stretched from column to column, formerly supported one
hundred and eighty thousand hanging lamps which illuminated the edifice
every night, while throngs of learned men, professors, and persons of
many conditions gathered there daily for lectures and discussion. The
great convocation was on Friday, when a sermon and prayers were the
order of the day, the immense court affording ample space for the
multitude, while the large east end sanctuary gave room for persons of
distinction to kneel. The mihrab, or niche, where worshippers turned
toward Mecca, the pulpit, and the tribunal were also features of the
edifice. We now see little of the original mosque, for it has been
remodelled from time to time; but it still remains the best type of the
congregational mosque (called Gami, meaning "assembly"), and to me it
seemed, as I looked upon it, one of the most impressive monuments of a
dead past that I had ever seen.
With the political change in 868, which introduced the Turkish period,
Ibn Tûlûn became the ruler, and another era of mosque and palace and
hospital building prevailed. The Mosque of Ibn Tûlûn is the only
monument that survives; it is also a congregational type and has the
same general style as Amr; it is the earliest instance of the use of the
pointed arch throughout a building, this being two centuries earlier
than its use in England. Five rows of arches form the arcade, or
cloisters, on the Mecca end of the building, with two rows on the other
three sides. The ornaments on the arches and around the windows are in
stucco, and are worked by hand in the plaster, instead of being moulded
as is the stucco work of the Alhambra. These consist of a bud, flower,
and rosette pattern. Another century passed on, when, in 969, the
victorious Gauhar forced the passage of the Nile and assumed possession
in behalf of a Fatimid caliphate (named Fatimid, for a daughter of
Mohammed). This event presaged a religious as well as a political
change, for the Fatimids were apostates from the true faith and
advocated the doctrines of Shi'a, one of the tenets being that the Koran
had been created, and another that there had been Mohammeds or inspired
men in every century. Shi'a now became the State religion, and for two
centuries held sway over Egypt.
This period was famous for palace building, and the descriptions of the
magnificence and luxurious furnishings read like a fairy tale. Mosque
building was not neglected, and there are two notable examples of the
congregational form, El Azhar and El Hâkim. El Azhar was founded by
Gauhar on April 3, 970, and in 988 it was especially devoted to the uses
of learning. It soon became one of the chief universities of the time,
and in 1101 there were nine thousand students and two hundred and
thirty-nine professors. The foreign students even now pay no fee and are
allowed rations of food, there being an endowment for this purpose. It
is, however, still used to a certain extent as a mosque; but it does not
now preserve the regular plan of a mosque, having been remodelled and
added to several times. It has six minarets and a spacious court
covering three thousand six hundred square yards, with one hundred and
forty columns and numerous side chambers which are devoted to lectures,
libraries, and laboratories.
At the time of our visit this court was filled with individual groups of
about thirty students, each around a professor; they were sitting
cross-legged on the floor, and were chanting their lessons with a
swaying motion of the body. A class of small children was of special
interest, studying passages of the Koran from cards. The Mosque of El
Hâkim was completed in 1013, and was so resplendent throughout that it
was known as the "Brilliant." This mosque has suffered more indignities
than even the old Amr, but the vast, empty court, with its partly ruined
arches, still has a certain dignity. There were originally five
minarets.
[Illustration: _The interior of the Tomb Mosque of Kalaûn_]
Leaving the Mosque of El Hâkim on the right, we have Bâb El-Futûh, the
Gate of Capture, which is connected by the city wall with the companion
Bâb En-Nasr, or Gate of Victory. These two gates guard the strong
northeast extremity of the old city fortifications, and in 1799 formed a
strong position for the troops of Napoleon. With Bâb Zuweyler, they are
the most important of the sixty gates which once existed in the wall of
Cairo. They have an inner and outer entrance and resemble a Roman
gateway.
The Fatimid rulers outvied each other in embellishing Kâhira with
artistic structures; this seems surprising because, on account of the
charge of heresy, Kâhira was cut off from the Arabian centres of art and
learning,--from Bagdad, Damascus, and Cordova,--and of course the
artists and students, who formerly frequented the mosques, could not do
so when they were in the hands of heretics. This condition of affairs,
together with other causes, produced a crisis, as will be seen.
The advance of Amalric and the Crusaders, in 1168, not only resulted in
the downfall of the Fatimids, but in the destruction of old Fustât,
Shawar, the ruler, having issued a mandate for it to be burned in order
to prevent the city from becoming a refuge for the Crusaders. The fire
lasted fifty-five days, and the city in all its magnificence, having
been the metropolis for five centuries, perished, a portion of the old
Mosque of Amr alone remaining. Kâhira then took its place as the
official centre of Egypt.
Saladin, the King of Jerusalem, now became ruler of Egypt, and he at
once adopted strong measures to win the apostates back to the true
faith. With a wisdom far in advance of his time, he planned to educate
the followers of Shi'aism by the introduction of madrasah mosques and
colleges. Heretofore we have had the Gami, or congregational mosque,
with a severely plain exterior. The madrasah mosques of this period
contained a smaller court, which was frequently capped with a cupola in
the centre; the sides of the court, instead of being surrounded by
arcades, were formed of four transepts, each spanned by a single lofty
arch. The transept toward the east was deeper than the others, forming
the niche for prayer; it was also furnished with the usual mihrab,
pulpit, and tribunal. Fine façades, minarets, and domes took the place
of the usual plain exterior; the dome was generally utilized as the
covering of a tomb or was intended for future memorial use. The
religious exercises (daily prayers, except on Friday, with sermons) were
in the nature of a school training in the interest of the true
Mohammedan faith.
The exterior of the madrasah college was not unlike the mosque
described, but the interior included facilities for theological
lectures, together with classrooms and libraries for general study; the
students were received on the very terms described in connection with
the university Mosque of El Azhar. These, in general, were the means
employed by Saladin to win all back to the true faith; in time he was
successful, and Kâhira no longer rested under the stigma of heresy.
The dignity of the Fatimid age was lowered by Saladin's quartering the
officers of his army in the magnificent palaces, while he occupied the
house of the Viziers. Shortly every monument of the brilliant Fatimid
period had vanished, with the exception of four mosques and the three
gates previously alluded to. Saladin, however, inaugurated a new era of
building, and during his nominal reign of twenty-four years three
mosques and sixteen colleges attest his zeal to the "cause." He also
built the citadel, and the great wall which was to enclose not only
Kâhira but the remains of the old cities. To him the present city of
Cairo owes its form and extent.
The tomb Mosque of Kalaûn was built in 1279 by the ruler of that name,
and is adjacent to the fine hospital, bearing the same name also; while
not large, it contains exquisite examples of wood carving, marble
mosaic, and plaster ornament worked in by hand. Seventy-seven years
later, in 1356, we find that, in the Mosque of Sultan Hasan, the
sculpture was in stone; hence, the material being unyielding, the
designs are geometrical, instead of arabesque, as in the plaster. This
is one of the most important mosques of any age, and is the most
characteristic of the madrasah form. Seen from without, the walls appear
even higher than the accredited one hundred and thirteen feet; they are
built of fine cut stone, from the pyramids, and windows relieve the
monotony of bare surface. There is a fine portal, set in an arched niche
sixty-six feet high, which is decorated with geometrical designs and
which has corner columns and capitals. The interior gives one an
impression of immense size, on account of the great span of the four
arches; the one at the east end is ninety feet high and seventy feet
wide, and is unequalled. The mosaics and marbles, however, are less
artistic than in the later mosques. The tomb chamber, entered from the
east, has a finely decorated door of brass, and is encircled by a marble
dado, twenty-five feet high, above which is a verse from the Koran
carved in wood. In the centre of the room is the grave of the founder.
The original dome fell in 1660, and was replaced by an inferior one;
there were to have been four minarets, but these collapsed also. The
court is well proportioned and contains an artistic fountain for
ablution.
[Illustration: _Fountain in the Mosque of Sultan Hasan_]
We saw the bronze lantern and many of the enamelled glass lamps in the
Arabian Museum, which forms a depository for ancient works of art; the
mosque has suffered greatly from devastation and abuse, but it still
retains a prestige among its class that not even time can efface. It is
said that Sultan Hasan was so delighted with the edifice that he ordered
the architect's hands cut off, for fear he might duplicate his
success,--an act committed presumably on the principle that "the end
justifies the means."
The Circassian as well as the Turkish Mamelukes were great builders of
mosques and colleges, particularly Sultan Barkûk (1382-1399) and Sultan
Kâït Bey (1468-1496). Their edifices are marvels of artistic skill, and,
by the time of Kâït Bey, perfection seemed almost to have been reached.
This is particularly true of the tomb mosques, situated in the mausolea
on the east side of the city, and known as the Tombs of the Khalifs.
That of Barkûk is noticeable, on account of its two superb domes, its
two minarets, and a carved pulpit, the latter erected by Kâït Bey. The
Mosque of Kâït Bey is, however, the finest of the group; it has a lofty
dome, adorned with bands of sculpture, minarets with galleries, and
bronze doors. There are beautiful ivory carvings over the tomb, while
the edifice is lighted by fifty colored glass windows. Near by, the
smaller modern tomb mosque of the Khedive Tewfik (the father of the
present Khedive), which is resplendent with a wealth of interior
decorations, suffers in comparison.
The defeat of the Mamelukes, and the Ottoman occupation of Kâhira in
1517, caused no cessation of mosque building; but there was a departure
from the Saracenic models, and also a still more marked return to the
congregational form than had been witnessed in the days of the great
builders just noted. This is evident in the last great mosque of the
modern period, that of Mohammed Ali (the independent monarch), begun by
that ruler, but not completed until 1857. It is situated in the citadel
and has an immense court, surrounded by arcades; but, unlike the
original type, it is covered with an immense dome, producing an
impressive effect. The exterior has also four smaller domes (one on each
side) and two very tall minarets, with shorter ones on each corner. The
mosque is likewise called the Alabaster Mosque, as the columns are built
of yellow alabaster and the walls encrusted with it; its location in the
citadel gives it a commanding position, and, being modern, it has
escaped the ravages of time.
[Illustration: _Openwork dagobas_]
Only a few representative mosques have here been outlined
architecturally (several others were visited), but an attempt has been
made to give these their political and social significance and
setting. Of the artistic side of the picture, it is claimed, on high
authority, that there have been manifested, in the construction of these
mosques, great architectural skill, perfection of ornament in wood,
plaster, and stone, and a careful adherence to Saracenic principles.
The most conspicuous point in Cairo is the citadel, erected by Saladin
in 1166, and constituting a fitting monument of his reign. From its
position and its fortification, it would seem almost invincible; but,
unfortunately, the fortress is itself commanded by the higher Mokattam
hills, as was shown in 1805, when Mohammed Ali, by means of a battery
placed on a hill, compelled Karishid Pasha to surrender the stronghold.
The mosque of Mohammed Ali, placed in the citadel, as already described,
can be seen from every side, and the barracks are also a prominent
feature; but the presence of British troops seems hardly to harmonize
with the Oriental environment.
A fine view of the city may be seen from the ramparts, but it is
surpassed by the view to be had from the Mokattam hills; on our way
there, some of the party took donkeys from near the citadel, but others
(like myself) walked, if the exercise of ploughing through the deep
furrows of sand may so be termed. A slippery climb, and all of Cairo
with its environs lay before us--and such a view! It was in the late
afternoon of a perfect day; the scene was, in the main, Oriental, the
European touches being less visible from a distance. First, a confused
stretch of domes, minarets, and roofs; then a separate mosque stood out,
and we recognized Sultan Hasan and Ibn Tûlûn. Farther on were seen the
towers above the Bâb Zuweyler gate; then the Tombs of the Khalifs,
blended together, and still farther there appeared the shadowy outlines
of the old Mosque of Amr. At our feet stood the citadel, while the
Alabaster Mosque and the line of arches marking the old aqueduct were
clearly visible. The setting sun illumined the silver line of the Nile,
touched the distant pyramids resting on the desert, and revealed the
far-away step pyramid of Sakkara. Its glory seemed all to be gathered
here, suffusing the whole panorama, and resting upon the scene like a
silent benediction.
The island of Rodda divides the Nile, and was formerly connected by
bridges of boats with both the island of Gizeh and Fustât, now old
Cairo. It was formerly a place of commercial importance, and had
extensive dockyards; according to tradition it is a place of Biblical
associations, since a palace occupied by Pharaoh's daughter is pointed
out, and also the place on the river where Moses was found in the
bulrushes.
[Illustration: _Citadel and Mosque of Mahomet Ali_]
The old Nilometer, for measuring the depths of the Nile, which was
erected in 716, is of interest. It consists of a square well, sixteen
feet in diameter, having, in the centre, an octagonal column on which
the ancient Arabic measures are inscribed. It was last remodelled in
1893. We visited old Cairo and the Coptic churches, six of which are
situated in the precincts of the ancient castle of Babylon. The Copts
are considered fine representatives of the old Egyptians, and they have
succeeded in preserving their language and liturgy through twelve
centuries of fierce oppression. The Fatimid period alone allowed them
some measure of toleration; their religious forms are similar to those
of the Greek church, but their discipline is more severe, their Lenten
fast covering a period of fifty-five days, with abstinence from sunrise
to sunset.
The Church of St. George will illustrate the peculiar arrangement of
their religious edifices. Following the example of the older Egyptian
Byzantine churches, the nave and tribune are uncovered and the side
aisles have galleries. The nave has three divisions: first, a vestibule;
second, a section set apart for women; and third, another section for
men. There are the usual choir, sanctuary, and side chapels, and the
division between the choir and the sanctuary is ornamented with carvings
in wood and ivory. The church also contains Byzantine carving and
mosaics, and is characterized by the usual richness in decoration. A
flight of twelve steps descends into the crypt, a small vaulted chapel
with marble columns situated under the choir. At the end of the nave is
an altar, around which has sprung up the tradition that the Virgin and
Child there rested during a month's stay, after the flight to Egypt. The
Church of St. Sergius is similar in construction, as are others of the
group, besides hundreds more scattered through Egypt. The dust of ages
clung to our skirts as we left the desolate scene, and there was within
us the consciousness that, for old Cairo, there could be no
resurrection.
One of the places that might consume days in the inspection is the
Museum of Egyptian Antiquities, which it is impossible to describe in a
limited space. But to the student of Egyptology and to the tourist it is
alike important, because, in its monuments of stone and bronze, it
presents visible proofs of a wonderful past, while the sarcophagi,
mummies, and other remains taken from the tombs, reveal the life and
habits of the early Egyptians.
With only two mornings for an inspection, we devoted one to a general
view of the museum, and the other to the fine collection of our
fellow-traveller, Mr. Theodore Davis, for which a special room is
reserved. Mr. Davis courteously explained to us the different objects,
or "finds"; these included artistic articles of household use, a fine
group of Canopic jars, and miscellaneous pieces of unusual merit (all
from the tombs of the Kings at Thebes); the whole exhibit showing what
an enthusiast, with time and means, can accomplish in the interest of a
buried past.
An excursion of great meaning is that to the pyramids. Crossing the
Nile, we followed its course to the former palace of Gizeh; then the way
led inland, along what was formerly a fine carriage drive, but now one
usually takes the tram to save time. Our arrival was exciting, owing to
the number of persistent Bedouins who met us with donkeys and camels. A
white donkey, named Snowflake, and an attendant, named Yankee Doodle,
fell to me, while a camel, named Mary Anderson, was allotted to a
friend. An inquiry as to why American names prevailed, revealed the fact
that the names of the animals are adjustable, according to the
nationality of the party to be supplied.
The appearance of the pyramids is familiar the world over, but an actual
view of these monuments of hoary age ever inspires awe and reverence. As
we ascended the plateau (twelve hundred by sixteen hundred yards), and
rode within the shadow of the pyramids, our feeling was deepened by the
view of the barren waste stretched before us,--yellowish sand and piles
of debris accentuating the solitude of the place, while the inscrutable
Sphinx and other monuments added their silent testimony.
A more extended view revealed "the river of rivers," on each bank of
which appeared a green line of foliage; beyond this could be dimly seen
cultivated fields with intersecting canals, while tiny villages lent the
human touch, and far away, Cairo, with her gleaming domes and minarets,
became an appropriate background for the scene.
All the members of our party having previously visited the spot, we were
spared the excitement of climbing the walls and entering the chambers,
greatly to the disappointment of our guides, to whom the prospect of
extra bakshish is always alluring. Our tour of observation consumed so
much time that the usual programme of five o'clock tea at the Hôtel Mene
was abandoned. On our arrival in the city, the mantle of night had
fallen,--a peaceful close to a never-to-be-forgotten day.
Another afternoon's excursion was made by carriage to the old villages
of Matariya and Heliopolis. Near the former place is an ancient gnarled
sycamore, under which, so tradition says, the Holy Family rested in
their flight to Egypt. The present tree was planted in 1672, but the
credulous still believe it to be a direct descendant of the original
one. A fine spring which flows in the vicinity is also supposed to
have lost its natural brackish taste on account of the infant Jesus
having been bathed in it. A half-mile farther on is Heliopolis, the old
City of the Sun. It is now marked by the solitary obelisk, which alone
remains to remind us of a past that stretches untold centuries back of
the Muslim conquest of Egypt in 640; and of a city that was the exponent
of the most ancient civilization of the world.
[Illustration: _The obelisk marking the site of Heliopolis_]
The obelisk is the oldest Egyptian one known; it is of red granite,
sixty-six feet in height, although it seems lower on account of the mass
of debris at the base, and is inscribed with hieroglyphics. There remain
a few granite blocks of the temple, designated the House of Ra, whose
priests were so learned as to have attracted Plato when a student, to
have drawn Herodotus into discussion, and to have laid the foundation of
Moses' wisdom.
Heliopolis has been the scene of many stirring events, the victory of
the Turks over the Mamelukes occurring there in 1517, while in 1800
General Kléber successfully led the French forces against the Turks. The
memory of the active past serves to emphasize the present solitude of
the place.
A favorite resort of the Cairo folk is the island of Gezireh; here a
long avenue of lebbek trees furnishes a fashionable promenade, while
games of golf, tennis, cricket, and polo, together with the races, are
a constant source of attraction. The once famous palace of Gezireh (the
scene of great festivities at the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869) is
now turned into a popular hotel; its grounds slope down to the Nile,
where dahabiyehs are sometimes anchored; an inspection of one of these,
the _Bedouin_, excited our admiration.
The time of our stay was drawing to a close, and Cairo was again to
become "memory" with a past stretching back into centuries without
number. Egypt has a human history that is almost appalling to the
thoughtful mind; this limitless stretch of time may, in part, explain
the peculiar, indefinable charm that Cairo has upon the imagination of
the beholder, thus winning for herself the appropriate name of the
"Mysterious City of the Nile."
* * * * *
PORT SAÏD, _November 26th_: The return to Port Saïd in the afternoon was
followed by our departure on another P. & O. steamer, the _Arabia_, for
Bombay, India.
One enters the Suez Canal with peculiar sensations, as it is a waterway
of vast importance, connecting the Mediterranean and Red Seas, and so
narrow that the shores on both sides are distinctly visible. It extends
from Port Saïd to Suez, and is nearly one hundred miles in length; it is
artificial, with the exception of a channel through Bitter Lakes and
Lake Tinsuh. All along the way, we were virtually traversing the desert,
Isma'iliya presenting a small oasis, fifty miles from Port Saïd. From
the deck we watched the monotonous scene, hour after hour, the landscape
being old and colorless, with great billows of sand in the foreground,
and here and there occasional hillocks. Once we saw mountains of sand,
called the Gebel Abû Batah range. Sometimes a few native huts would
appear (the mere semblance of a village), then a stray camel or two, or
a group of natives with their pigskins, intent on securing water. The
Great Bitter Lake is a fine body of water, and it afforded us a
temporary relief from the monotony of the Canal. There was a short stay
at Suez, which has all the stir of a noisy modern port. We were now for
a time in the Gulf of Suez, but saw nothing except a yellow beach and
low outlying mountains; we longed for even a patch of grass, but, alas!
this was the season of drought, and vegetation was slumbering.
But if Nature was dull and lifeless, there was no lack of jollity on
board the steamer; for the passengers were mostly English, and there
were constant games or other devices for "killing time," in which the
English as a nation are so proficient.
We sailed out of the Gulf of Suez into the Red Sea, which afforded some
variety of scene, as there were occasional islands, that of Perim being
the most important and a possession of Great Britain. It stands
prominently out of the sea in its length of two miles, and seems almost
destitute of vegetation, although there was a little settlement close to
the shore.
Thus far, contrary to all expectation, we had had comfortable weather;
but Aden, a few hours later, gave us a heated welcome. This small city
of Arabia is picturesquely situated on the Arabian Sea, high up on rocky
cliffs; we had anticipated a hurried survey of the city, but the heat
was so excessive that only a few gentlemen ventured ashore; however, we
had a little diversion on the steamer in the interval, as numerous
natives appeared with amber beads, ostrich feathers (which are a noted
commodity of the place) and fans; this provoked the usual contest in
bargains.
The evening brought us compensation for a day of heat, with its
consequent languor, in the shape of a gorgeous sunset; a huge ball of
fire hung in the west and radiated great streaks of red, yellow, and
blue, these fading away into the softer tints, and then came the most
wonderful afterglow, the heavens being suffused, and the whole scene
making one breathless, as if under a spell.
[Illustration: _The Suez Canal near Port Saïd_]
The Arabian Sea gave us an aftermath of heat, but, remembering with
considerable satisfaction that the days of our transit were nearly
over, we assumed an indifferent air.
* * * * *
BOMBAY, _December 6th_: On nearing India, with its far-away past, I was
convinced that I would be first impressed with its Oriental aspect, but,
on the contrary, the approach to Bombay presented a decidedly modern
phase. There is a fine, almost semi-circular harbor, with a modern quay,
and tall buildings encircling the shore, the tasteful Royal Bombay Yacht
Club in the front, the spacious new Taj Mahal Hotel to the left, having
about a block of frontage on the bay, while farther back were other tall
buildings. Dusky faces greeted us at the landing, and a Babel of voices
in an unknown tongue, or rather tongues, since many tribes were
represented, each with their separate dialect.
Arriving at the Taj Mahal, we felt a sense of strangeness, as the
arrangement of rooms and the service were distinctly foreign. There were
almost too many attendants or servants (two for each room, an upper and
a lower one), and the waiters in the dining-room were more interesting
to me than the menu,--the Portuguese wearing white uniforms with short
jackets, pink vests, and black ties; the Mohammedans attired in long
white tunics, with wide belts at the waist, loose trousers, and
barefooted.
It was reserved for an afternoon drive through the crowded native
quarter, however, to give us a striking impression of the India of the
past. Every nook and corner of the narrow streets seemed a blaze of
color--women in their full skirts of many shades of red (that color
predominating), with diverse novel waist arrangements and a profusion of
jewelry, bracelets, necklaces, earrings, and anklets. Men were in their
many-hued turbans of various styles, with no clothing to the waist and a
limited supply below. Then there were boys and small children,--the
former with only a loin cloth, the latter as Nature made them, with
silver chains bearing quite large hearts suspended around their waists,
and with smaller chains around their necks, each supposed to ward off
sudden calamity or disease.
But, if there was color in the dress, there was emaciation in the
figure,--thin features, thin limbs, and flat chests being the prevailing
type, a fair indication that their scanty supply of food does not
furnish them sufficient nutrition. Northern India is the so-termed
"famine district," and the famine of one year is said to have destroyed
over four millions of people; pestilence is always threatening these
natives, and besides, the demands for tribute of an enervated priesthood
(who "toil not," alas! "neither do they spin") have to be met. So is it
any wonder that poverty prevails and that sadness of countenance is
everywhere seen?
[Illustration: _Aden, Arabia_]
The bazars are similar in arrangement to those in Cairo; but more novel
wares are displayed, and less bargaining is resorted to. The European
shops were satisfactory, and we invested at once in white felt topee
hats lined with green, and also in ecru parasols similarly lined, for
dire tales had been told us of the penalty we should suffer if we were
not thus equipped, on account of the great power of the sun in midday;
often the heat was known to bring on insanity (on the authority of a
long-time resident of India). The wearing of that topee hat was a great
personal sacrifice, as it was horribly unbecoming, and after some weeks
of trial one of our party was brave enough to advise a second venture; a
Calcutta style was tried, with no better results, so you can imagine the
joy of the final "giving up"!
If the native quarters revealed to us an unknown life, so did a country
drive, for there were trees and shrubs never before seen, and queer
little thatched houses of the bungalow type. Groups of cocoanut and
other palms were all lacking in freshness, as this was the dry season,
and dust must prevail until the arrival of the "monsoon," or rainy
season, in May. The domestic animals seemed to thrive, such as camels,
donkeys, bullocks, and there were many birds, the little mina and the
green paroquets being of special interest, while immense black crows
hovered about everywhere.
The European aspect of Bombay is imposing, and the public and municipal
buildings are hardly to be surpassed, the railway station claiming the
distinction, architecturally, of being the finest in the world. The
dominant type of public building is designed in what is called Gothic
Indian style.
The drive along Queen's Road is a dream of beauty. The private
residences, each with fine grounds, are many and tasteful, those along
Queen's Road being usually occupied by the military class or by
officials in the civil service. Malabar Hill is also a residential
centre, and a drive there affords one an extended view of the city.
There also one may have a glimpse of the Arabian Sea, but a much better
view is to be had from the grounds of the Towers of Silence, that
strange exemplification of the faith of a peculiar people.
We had met a Parsee gentleman of culture and refinement on the steamer,
_en route_ for Bombay, which fact made us eager to learn something of
this sect. They came to India from Persia, twelve hundred years ago,
driven away on account of Mohammedan persecution. They are strict
followers of the tenets of Zoroaster, their creed, briefly epitomized,
being "Good thoughts, good words, and good deeds." There are about one
hundred thousand in Bombay; as a class they are well educated, and have
great business capacity; hence they are prominent in commercial affairs,
particularly in banking. They are generous and charitable, and are at
the head of most of the philanthropic institutions of the city; many
distinctions have been won by them from the English Government.
[Illustration: _Victoria Station at Bombay_]
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.
[Illustration: _Queen's Road at Bombay_]
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.
[Illustration: _Country scene in Bombay_]
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."
[Illustration: _A Tower of Silence_]
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.
* * * * *
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.
[Illustration: _Entrance to one of the Caves of Elephanta_]
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."
[Illustration: _Street scene in Jeypore_]
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.
[Illustration: _A Hindu woman of Jeypore_]
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.
[Illustration: _Interior view of Amber Palace_]
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.
* * * * *
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.
[Illustration: _General view of Amber Palace and fort near Jeypore_]
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.
The Fifty-fourth Regiment marched to the relief, but most of the
officers were shot, and the native soldiers refused to act,--a precedent
followed by the natives of other regiments; thus the rebels were largely
reinforced, and they soon had complete possession of the fort, which was
then well garrisoned by native officers who were thoroughly trained in
English tactics. The mutiny was now complete, and English rule for the
time being ceased; disturbances also spread to Agra, Cawnpore, and
Lucknow, so the army was necessarily divided; however, the bravery of
the British forces at Delhi was such that by May 20th the fort and
palace had been regained. The King was captured before Humayun's tomb
(outside the city), and, the King's sons surrendering, they were shot in
front of the Delhi gate of the fort. The victory, nevertheless, was only
won through the sacrifice of many lives, the loss of officers being
particularly heavy; the city also suffered greatly from the siege, and
the beauty of the fort and palace was much impaired.
[Illustration: _A gateway built during the seventeenth century in
Delhi_]
[Illustration: _The Pearl Mosque at Delhi_]
There are two fine gates to the fort,--the Lahore on the west side, and
the Delhi on the south side,--both built by Shah Jahan, between 1638 and
1648. The fort is encircled by a massive red sandstone wall; we passed
through the grand archway of the Lahore gate, into a vaulted arcade
which Mr. Ferguson (the famous authority on architecture) considers the
noblest entrance known to any palace. The arcade ends in the centre of
the outer main court, measuring five hundred and forty by three hundred
and sixty feet; the inner court is somewhat larger and is surrounded by
cloisters or galleries. On the farther side of this inner court is the
fine Hall of Public Audience, Diwan-i-Am, one hundred by sixty feet,
where the proportions and the arrangement of columns and arches are
perfect. At one end of this hall is a raised recess in which the Emperor
used to be seated on the famous Peacock Throne, which Nadir Shah carried
to Persia; before the throne, and lower, was the seat occupied by the
prime minister, while above it were placed the inlaid panels by Austin
of Bordeaux.
The hall was restored under the direction of the late viceroy, Lord
Curzon, and we saw Florentine artists renewing the inlaid work in the
panels. The remarkable throne was six feet long and four feet wide; it
stood on six massive feet, which, with the body of the chair, were of
solid gold, inlaid with rubies, emeralds, and diamonds. The throne took
its name from having the figures of two peacocks standing behind it,
their tails extended, and the whole so inlaid with sapphires, rubies,
pearls, emeralds, and diamonds as to be lifelike in its color. All this
was surmounted by a canopy of gold, and supported by twelve pillars,
richly emblazoned with gems, while a fringe of pearls ornamented the
edge of the canopy. There were still more costly adjuncts, but these
details must suffice; it is needless to add that the loss of the throne
was considered a national calamity.
A gate on one side of this hall led to the inner court of the palace,
and to the Hall of Private Audience, or Diwan-i-Khas, which is among the
most graceful assembly rooms in the world. It is ninety by sixty-seven
feet, and is built entirely of white marble, inlaid with precious
stones; at either end of the hall is the famous Persian inscription:
"If heaven can be on the face of the earth,
It is this, oh! it is this, oh! it is this!"
Not far removed from here are the royal apartments, consisting of three
suites of rooms, with an octagonal tower projecting over the river
Jumna. These rooms are all finely decorated. Beyond them are the Rang
Mahal, or Painted Palace,--the residence of the chief Sultana,--and the
royal baths, consisting of three large rooms fitted in white marble,
elaborately inlaid. Opposite to this is the Moti Musjid, or Pearl
Mosque.
[Illustration: _The Hall of Private Audience in the Palace, Delhi_]
[Illustration: _Jumma Musjid, Delhi_]
There are more buildings that could be described, but some were injured
at the time of the mutiny, and others have since been removed,
presumably in the interest of modern requirements.
We made our exit through the Delhi gate; between the inner and outer
arches stand the Chettar elephants which were replaced by order of Lord
Curzon. The Jumma Musjid is raised on a lofty basement; it has three
gateways, four corner towers, two lofty minarets, and three domes. We
ascended one of the towers and had an extended view; inside there is a
spacious quadrangle, three hundred and twenty-five feet square, in the
centre of which is a fountain for ablution; and on three sides there
are sandstone cloisters. An immense concourse of people assemble here
for prayer every Friday; the mosque in arrangement is very similar to
the congregational mosques of Cairo.
The Kalun Musjid, usually called Black Mosque, dates from 1386. It is of
peculiar construction, having two stories, and is somewhat Egyptian in
appearance. A Jain temple was so hemmed in by streets that its
appearance was much impaired, but the interior was beautiful in design
and finish.
The street known as Chandni Chauk fully sustained its reputation as a
shopping centre; it is over a mile in length and is always a scene of
sparkle and commotion; on it were the usual bazars, but also many larger
stores, as Delhi is considered the finest shopping point in India,
particularly in precious stones,--jewelry being the commodity most
heralded, as we learned to our sorrow.
On arriving at Maiden's Hotel (under English management, but
semi-Oriental in its arrangement), we complacently viewed our rooms on
the second floor, opening upon a gallery and overlooking a large court.
Here at last, so we thought, was a haven of refuge from jewelry
intruders, but, alas! we were no sooner located than they appeared,--not
the impecunious class, but dealers with shops and a bank
account,--bringing with them a vast array of really beautiful gems,
which were tempting but high-priced. To say that, on an average, three
of these men knocked at our door during the morning bath, while as many
were waiting for us at the luncheon hour, literally camping out on the
balcony during the evening hours, is no exaggeration. Then the cards
they presented, the insinuations they indulged in with regard to the
other man's goods (who was waiting outside)! It really was amusing, but
it grew tiresome, and was demoralizing, because one was compelled to
"bargain" if anything was purchased at all, the first scale of prices
being purposely exorbitant.
A day's visit to old Delhi was most interesting; it is a ride of eleven
miles to Kutub Minar, through sand and debris, comprising a portion of
an area of forty-seven miles, covered with the remains of seven, once
prosperous, cities. Several of the ruins were of interest, and they had
a history, but I will describe only the well-preserved mausoleum of
Emperor Humayun, which gains in importance from having been the model of
the Taj Mahal at Agra. It stands on a lofty platform of red sandstone,
and consists of a large central octagon, surmounted by a dome with
octagon towers at the angles; the red sandstone exterior is artistically
picked out in relief with white marble. The windows are recessed, and
the lower doors are filled with beautiful lattices of stone and marble.
In the centre of each side of the main octagon is a porch, forty feet
high, with a pronounced pointed arch. The cenotaph of the Emperor is of
white marble, without any inscription; his wife and several other
persons, including two later Emperors, are buried here also. As was
quite the custom of the time, the tomb is surrounded by a garden of
thirteen acres. Farther on, was the Tomb of a Saint, a perfect gem! It
is built of white marble, is eighteen feet square, and is surrounded by
a broad veranda. Around the covered grave there is a low marble rail,
and over it a beautiful canopy, inlaid with mother-of-pearl; in the
walls are finely pierced screens. Near this tomb is a handsome red
sandstone mosque, called Jumat Khana, and in the vicinity are a number
of other important tombs of artistic design, two having elaborately
carved marble doors, the design being like lacework.
The culmination of the morning's trip was at the Kutub Minar enclosure;
the magnificent ruined Mosque of Kuwat-ul-Islam occupies a large portion
of the space, and dates from the latter part of the twelfth century. The
main entrance was through an arched doorway, the courtyard was
surrounded by cloisters formed of pillars purloined from Jain temples
and piled one upon another. Most of them are richly ornamented, although
many have been defaced.
[Illustration: _The tomb of Emperor Humayun_]
The famous Hindu Iron Pillar stands in front of the ruin; it is one of
the most unique antiquities in India, and is a solid shaft of wrought
iron, twenty-three feet, eight inches high and sixteen inches in
diameter; it has a deeply cut Sanskrit inscription, and is so individual
in its character as to prove a distinct reminder of a decayed past.
The most prominent feature of the landscape is Kutub Minar, rightly
named the Tower of Victory. Some have thought it of Hindu origin, but
the now accepted opinion is that it was built by the Moguls, after the
conquest. It is two hundred and thirty-eight feet high, and has five
stories with balconies, each story being decorated with bands of
inscriptions. The first three stories are of red sandstone and are
fluted; the two upper stories are of white marble and have been
restored. The diameter of the first story is forty-seven feet, three
inches; that of the upper story, nine feet; three hundred and
seventy-nine steps lead to the summit, and ninety-five steps lead to the
first gallery, from both points of which we obtained a fine view of
ruins in every direction.
Tughlakabad lies five miles east of Kutub Minar; the fort is so high and
massive as to be seen long before the point is reached. The enclosure
covers nearly four miles and contains a ruined mosque and palace.
Outside the wall is the tomb of Tujlak Shah; it is situated in an
artificial lake, and is connected with the fort by a causeway, six
hundred feet long and supported on twenty-seven arches.
Of this tomb Mr. Ferguson says: "The sloping walls and almost Egyptian
solidity of this mausoleum, combined with the bold and massive towers of
the fortifications that surround it, form a picture of a warrior's tomb
unrivalled anywhere."
The day's experience included luncheon at a "rest house" near Kutub
Minar; this term applies to a simple semi-hotel, provided by the
Government for the convenience of members of the military and civil
service and their families; it is situated in places where there are no
hotel facilities, and, when unoccupied, the public may share in the
convenience.
The long, intensely dusty ride to Delhi,[2] past ruin after ruin, gave
us leisure to reflect on the ravages of time and the mutability of all
earthly things.
[Illustration: _Northern colonnade of the Islam mosque, showing ruined
arch_]
Another afternoon drive about Delhi revealed new points of interest,
including some which are associated with the mutiny, such as the Ridge
where the British troops were stationed and from which a fine view is
afforded; Flagstaff Tower, where the women and children were assembled
on May 11, 1857; and the very inadequate Mutiny Memorial Monument,
erected to commemorate the heroic deeds of the officers and soldiers who
fell during the summer of 1857.
But the scene that will linger longest in my memory is the panorama of
the massive walls, towers, gateways, and the half-ruined palace. Then,
one can hardly forget the Pearl Mosque, which is of such rare beauty as
to prove a fitting memorial to the "Great Builder," Shah Jahan; the
latter has a prototype in modern times,--none other than Ludwig II of
Bavaria, whose palaces also linger in the memory as a dream of beauty.
* * * * *
AGRA, _December 18th_: No one can visit Delhi and Agra without being
impressed by the rulers of the golden period of the Mogul Empire, the
great Akbar standing forth prominently as a wise potentate and the
strongest personality in Indian history, certainly in Central India. His
son, Jahangir, was not his equal, but his mantle of power seems to have
descended to his grandson, Shah Jahan, who, like him, was famed in the
matter of building, as we have seen at Delhi, and furthermore were to
see at Agra, our next point of observation. We arrived on the afternoon
of December 18th and proceeded to the Hôtel Metropole.
As the train approached the city, we caught a glimpse of that
incomparable creation, the Taj Mahal, and were immediately under its
spell, so we at once took carriages and were conveyed there. As we drew
near, the massive, finely proportioned gateway burst upon us. The
entrance is of red sandstone, with Moorish arches and pavilions, while a
wall of masonry, with turreted corners, encircles the grounds. At the
centre of the two adjacent sides are gateways of similar construction to
the entrance. One is, however, unprepared for the white-domed vision
beyond, which at once inspired admiration and awe. The first view was at
sunset, and the atmosphere was filled with a golden haze that rested
lovingly on the graceful turrets and dome. We lingered on to catch the
moonlight effect, and as the twilight faded and the outlines became
shadowy, there was a peculiar illusion, which was heightened by the
first glimmering silvery light, soon to be succeeded by a full radiance
which illumined the white marble pile and the whole environment. We sat
spellbound amidst the loveliness of the scene; no one spoke, and this
silent tribute of respect was shared by other "lookers on."
[Illustration: _Kutub Minar, the Tower of Victory in Old Delhi_]
Our last visit was in the full effulgence of the morning, when we were
able to obtain new points of view, and to visit the adjacent red
sandstone mosque, as well as the corresponding opposite edifice (which
is an audience room). Some of the party crossed the river Jumna, which
runs back of the grounds, so as to see the reflection of the Taj in the
water. No words of mine can fitly describe the impression, but figures
sometimes aid the imagination. The foundation is three hundred and
thirteen feet square and eighteen feet in height, and the edifice itself
is one hundred and eighty-six feet square, with a dome rising to the
height of two hundred and twenty feet. At each corner of the foundation
stands a tall, graceful minaret, one hundred and thirty-seven feet in
height. Add to this the statement that it took twenty thousand men
seventeen years to complete the work, at a cost variously estimated at
from $17,000,000 to $20,000,000, and you may form an idea of the
delicate workmanship and artistic skill which the Taj represents. But
simplicity is, after all, the keynote, and there is also a rare
personality in its outlines reflecting feminine grace. This is
distinctly felt when viewing the cenotaph (the real tomb is in a crypt
below), which is, like the entire edifice, built of the whitest of
marble and decorated with rare, beautiful designs, while the screen
which encloses the cenotaph of the Queen is also of marble, carved in a
lacework design of exquisite beauty.
The diamonds, pearls, rubies, and other precious stones which once
embellished this and every other part of the edifice, were taken away by
ruthless invaders of India; and their places filled by colored stones
with little loss of effect. Shah Jahan's cenotaph lies unenclosed at the
left, showing that it was not included in the original plan. Indeed, it
had been the intention of Shah Jahan to build for himself a mausoleum,
of corresponding style, yet of dark marble, across the river Jumna; the
shadow which rested on his later life prevented the idea from being
carried out. But the creation of this tribute to all womanhood typified
in his beloved wife is a monument which time cannot efface. Arjamand
Banu Begum was a Persian princess of rare beauty and of great personal
charm. She died in giving birth to her eighth child, and through all the
years had held the supreme place in Shah Jahan's life; despite the
Oriental custom of having other wives, she had won for herself the title
of Mumtaz-i-Mahal, "The exalted of the Palace." Hence the Eastern habit
of placing a mausoleum in a garden was peculiarly fitting for so
peerless a queen; in this instance it forms a perfect setting for the
Taj.
[Illustration: _Gateway leading to Taj Mahal_]
[Illustration: _Taj Mahal_]
[Illustration: _Screen in Taj Mahal_]
[Illustration: _Shah Jahan and his wife in whose memory the Taj was
built_]
The garden was redeemed from a hopeless tangle (into which it had
fallen), under the direction of Lord Curzon, who did so much to stay
ruin and devastation. It is laid out in a conventional style, one square
being devoted to roses, another to poinsettia, while long stretches of
foliage plants here and there, with a mass of dark green cypress trees,
give it a breadth of view that is enhanced by a marble avenue, leading
from the entrance to the tombs, the sweep of avenue being broken midway
by a marble seat from which a fine view of the Taj is afforded. Running
parallel were marble aqueducts which contained, at set intervals,
playing fountains; these were inactive, however, at the time of our
visits. One could return to the Taj day after day, as the subtle
influence of its beauty and its spiritual significance are ever present.
Sad indeed was the fate of the builder, Shah Jahan, who ruled from 1620
to 1658 and who was then deposed by his son, Aurangzeb. The latter
transferred the capital to Delhi, causing his father to languish seven
long years in a small suite of rooms in the palace at Agra as a
prisoner, his only companion a devoted daughter.
While the centre of attraction in Agra is the Taj Mahal, the fort,
palace, and Moti Musjid (Pearl Mosque) are of equal interest. Here we
see the impress of three rulers, Akbar (the grandson of the noted Mogul
king, Baber, and son of Humayun, both of whom lived at Agra), Jahangir,
his son, and Shah Jahan, his grandson.
Akbar removed to Agra, from the old capital Fatehpur-Sikri, about 1568,
but the only monuments that are now attributed to him are the massive
walls of the fort and the red palace. Jahangir built the palace which
bears his name, but as it is somewhat gloomy in appearance, his chief
claims to distinction as a builder are the tombs of Itimid-ud-Daulah and
Akbar's tomb at Sikandra. Shah Jahan built the palace which contains the
beautiful Diwan-i-Am, or Hall of Public Audience; the Diwan-i-Khas, or
Hall of Private Audience; the Shish Mahal, or Mirror Palace; the
Saman-Burj, known as the Octagon, or Jasmine Tower; the Mina Musjid, or
Gem Palace (the private mosque of the Emperor); with many other notable
edifices. The Moti Musjid, or Pearl Mosque, is furnished with a superb
exterior setting.
Having described similar halls in the palace at Delhi, I will only
briefly enumerate some distinguishing features of each of the buildings
just mentioned. All were either injured or defaced in the mutiny
conflict of 1857, which raged in Agra from May 10th to October 10th, six
thousand women and children, with a few men, having found a refuge there
during the siege. A feature of the Public Audience Room is a grille in
the back wall, through which the Sultanas or members of the Zenana could
watch the proceedings below; and in the centre of the hall is a
raised alcove of white marble, richly decorated in low relief.
[Illustration: _Agra Palace and part of wall and gateway to the fort_]
[Illustration: _An Octagon Tower of the Agra Palace_]
The Hall of Private Audience consists of an open colonnade in front of
an enclosed room at the back. The illustration shows the front
overlooking the court, while beyond is the Octagon Tower, the residence
of the chief Sultana. In the court a portion of the marble pavement is
made to represent a pachisi or chess board, and it is said the game was
played with slave girls, who were used instead of the customary
chessmen. The Octagon Tower is built out over the river Jumna, as will
be seen in a later picture.
The portion known as the Mirror Palace is unique, as it consists of two
dark rooms furnished with fountains and an artificial cascade arranged
to fall over lighted lamps. The walls and ceilings are decorated with
innumerable small mirrors which were restored in 1875. The palace
measures seventy by forty feet, and is built at the east end of a garden
two hundred and fifty feet square, planted with flowers and shrubs.
Underneath the structure are subterranean apartments for use during the
summer heat, and from here passages lead to still cooler rooms in
another portion of the fort.
In the southeast corner of this Anguri Bagh, or garden, are three finely
decorated rooms which were once the private apartments of Shah Jahan.
The Jahangir Mahal, or palace, is noticeable on account of the bright
red tiles used in the upper portion. It also has a fine domed hall which
leads into a large central court.
But the crowning single feature in this fort (which is over a mile in
extent) is the Moti Musjid, or Pearl Mosque. Mr. Ferguson considers it
to be "one of the purest and most elegant buildings of its class to be
found in the world." It ranks next to the Taj Mahal among Shah Jahan's
creations. The entrance gateway is of red sandstone and is approached by
a lofty double staircase. The exterior is faced with slabs of red
sandstone, but the interior is built of marble, white, blue, and gray
veined. The courtyard of the mosque is deservedly celebrated. In the
centre is a marble tank for ablutions, and a marble cloister runs around
three of its sides. A flight of steps leads to the roof of the mosque,
from which a fine view is obtained.[3]
[Illustration: _The Pearl Mosque_]
[Illustration: _Akbar's tomb in Sikandra_]
A pleasant excursion across the river led us to the tasteful tomb of
Itimid-ud-Daulah. The entrance gate is fine, and the approach through
spacious, well-kept grounds gives one a wide perspective. The façade is
of marble with considerable inlaid work. Itimid-ud-Daulah was a Persian
High Treasurer, and the grandfather of the Lady of the Taj. The tomb was
built by Shah Jahangir, as was that of King Akbar at Sikandra, five
miles distant from Agra and a delightful excursion to make. It has an
imposing gateway and is situated in the midst of a veritable park. It is
of red sandstone, inlaid with white marble, and is a pyramidal building,
four stories high, the first three being of red sandstone and the fourth
of marble. The base measures three hundred and twenty feet, and the
fourth story one hundred and fifty-seven feet (narrow stairways leading
upward), which indicates a gradual decrease and tapering in size. A
massive cloister runs around the lower story, and the fourth story is
occupied by the marble cenotaph of Akbar, directly over the crypt which
contains his tomb. The cenotaph is engraved with ninety-nine names of
the deity. This story is surrounded by a white marble cloister, and on
the outer side of each arch is an oval-shaped recess, filled with
delicate lacework carving of varied patterns in marble. The effect is
unlike anything elsewhere seen. There are several other historic tombs
in the vicinity, and many points of interest all the way to Akbar's old
capital, Fatehpur-Sikri. This is twenty-two miles distant, a day's
excursion, and easily reached in automobiles; although it took some
faith to trust one's self to the rather indifferent chauffeurs.
* * * * *
FATEHPUR-SIKRI: This royal but long-destroyed city is sacred to the
memory of the Emperor Akbar, who built a gorgeous structure and selected
the site through the advice of the renowned Saint Selim Chisti. He
eventually abandoned it on account of its unhealthy location, and
transferred the capital to Agra, where, as we have seen, he built a fort
and the red palace. There is an unusually imposing gateway on one side
of Fatehpur-Sikri, leading up to the mosque, but we made our entrance
from the adjacent side; hence our first view was like that in the
illustration. A large, five-story building to the left served as a
recreation place for the ladies of the court, while back and to the left
of this was seen the beautiful dome of the mosque, said to be almost a
counterpart of the one at Mecca. So many and varied are the buildings in
this fort that it is inexpedient to do more than allude briefly to them.
The three palaces of the Sultanas are notable for their beauty, variety,
and wealth of ornament, the Sultanas being Miriam, the Portuguese
Christian; Rakinah, Akbar's cousin; and the Turkish Sultana. The Emperor
also has a suite of several rooms. The palace of Birbal, Akbar's prime
minister, is, architecturally, the most perfect of any in the enclosure
and was built for his daughter. The rooms allotted to the Zenana are
spacious. Near the recreation building is the famous pachisi or chess
board, similar to the one at Agra, where Akbar and his vizier, sitting
opposite, marshalled the slave girls to and fro.
[Illustration: _General view of Fatehpur-Sikri_]
The plan of the mosque is unusual in its construction, and so is the
massive gateway. Passing through the latter, an exquisite monument
presents itself in the tomb of Selim Chisti, the venerable hermit saint,
who lived a retired existence in a cave and yet who was the controlling
force in Akbar's life. The place is simple, and displays such delicacy
of skill in its composition as to excite admiration. It is surrounded by
a beautiful white marble lattice-work screen, ornamented with brass, and
the canopy over the tomb of the saint is inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
The photograph is very effective, but, like many others, it has to be
omitted (I have five hundred scenes of the tour). The public audience
room is encompassed by cloisters. There is a treasury, a mint, a record
office, and a building with three large rooms known as the Minchauli
Anch, which is said to be the place where the Emperor played
hide-and-seek with the ladies of the court; this is probably an
erroneous statement.
The most unusual building is the Diwan-i-Khas, the council chamber. From
the outside it seems to be two stories high, yet there is really but one
story with a large central pillar which is surrounded by an immense
circular capital. From this radiates four stone causeways to the
corners of the room; these are enclosed by an open trellis with stone
balustrades. The shaft of the pillar is finely carved, and all is in
perfect condition, due to careful restoration. It is said that the
Emperor sat in the centre of the pillar when he held a council, while
the four advisers sat in the corners. Stone staircases lead to the roof,
where a glimpse of the whole enclosure is afforded. A novel view is
obtained down a stone-paved roadway, leading to a large court, at the
north end of which is the deer minaret, or circular tower, seventy feet
high, decorated with protruding elephants' tusks in stone. From the
lanterns at the top, the Emperor is said to have shot antelopes drawn
under the column by beaters employed for that special purpose.
Reading between the lines, one learns that Akbar was a very peculiar
character, domineering and despotic, yet generous to the immediate
members of his household and to his favorite courtiers,--he was very
cruel, however, when they displeased him; very broad in his religious
views; and although a devoted Mohammedan, he was tolerant of all
religions, and there are accounts of religious discussions taking place,
in which every shade of belief was represented. He decreed that his
daughters should all marry Hindu princes.
[Illustration: _A column in the Audience Hall (Diwan-i-Khas)_]
Our guide told us that formerly there were underground passages and
apartments, but he did not state, as did another guide to a party of
tourists at Agra, that these apartments were for the disciplining and
torturing of the members of the Zenana and even of his wives. Taking
into consideration the attention he gave to the comfort and pleasure of
the ladies of the court, as seen in the palaces and the large recreation
building extant, this statement appears inconsistent, and so it is
necessary to give him the benefit of the doubt. The "auto" ride back to
Agra was accomplished without any broken limbs, and another red-letter
day was ended.
Before leaving Agra one should either visit the Taj Mahal for a final
look, or, from the Jasmine Tower of the palace, gaze through the
intervening two miles of space to catch its shadowy outline as seen by
Shah Jahan during those seven solitary years of vigil. I chose the
latter method for convenience' sake, after visiting the bazars, and in
consequence was rewarded with a never-to-be-forgotten view.
Delhi and Agra are indissolubly connected by their rulers and by
historical events; in leaving them one feels as if never again would so
much of unique interest be presented in the line of architectural skill
and poetic sentiment.
* * * * *
CAWNPORE, _December 24th_: We took a night train from Agra to Cawnpore,
arriving there early on the morning of December 24th and stopping over
a few hours to break the journey. Cawnpore is full of mutiny memories,
and we visited some of the historic points, going first to the Ghat
(steps) where cruel Nana Sahib burned, or murdered, a boatload of
Englishmen; also to other scenes of horror. Then we went to the memorial
well, and to the memorial church with its peaceful interior, which was
being decorated with greens in true English fashion, for the service of
the morrow, when "Peace and good will to men" would ring out, and for
the time being mutiny memories would be forgotten. We drove to the park,
where, as an accessory to a certain artistic building, there is to be
seen an exquisite angel of carved marble, a memorial erected by the
Government. Next, we visited some bazars of no special interest.
* * * * *
LUCKNOW, _December 24th_: After luncheon, we took the train for Lucknow.
On the way, Murray's "Lucknow" was re-read, and another mutiny chapter
added. Lucknow is the capital of the province of Oudh. In 1813 the
English conferred the title of king on the ruler, but, for reasons of
distrust, withdrew it in 1856, and at the same time discharged eighty
thousand high-caste soldiers,--an action which produced instant
dissatisfaction and was one of the direct causes for the mutiny. We
arrived at Wutzler's Royal Hotel in the late afternoon, and felt
gladdened by the comfort and good cheer that awaited us,--a hopeful sign
inasmuch as the morrow was Christmas Day. A drive to Wingfield Park and
a visit to an exquisite tomb mosque ended the sight-seeing day.
[Illustration: _Jasmine Tower and distant view of the Taj_]
[Illustration: _The ghat at Cawnpore_]
Christmas without the usual morning service seemed peculiar, but the law
of the majority in our party prevailed, and we drove instead to the Fort
and Residency, the centre of interest since 1857. The awe and solemnity
inspired by that visit, with the Christmas bells ever and anon breaking
the silence, can never be forgotten. The Residency is situated in the
centre of a large park which was the scene of a siege lasting from July
1 to November 17, 1857, three thousand men, women, and children, besides
the military, being there for safety. The number of refugees was reduced
to one thousand by September; the large rooms on the ground floor of the
Government building, with two stories above and extensive subterranean
rooms, made their stay possible, but involved great suffering and
horrible death as the siege went on. The large banquet hall of the
Residency near by was converted into a hospital. Both buildings are now
in ruins. But the roofless Residency with a tangle of vines (and a
decrepit stairway that leads upward) furnishes a fine view of the whole
scene, which in its very quietness bespeaks bravery, endurance, and
heroic suffering.
The buildings of Lucknow are not important, with the exception of the
Jumma Musjid, the great Imambara with its fine gateway, court, and
arcades. The Imambara Mosque has two minarets, and the great Imambara
Hall, one hundred and sixty-three by fifty-three feet and forty-nine
feet high, is one of the largest vaulted galleries in the world. The
palaces of the late king of Oudh, the clock tower and other mosques and
tombs, were visited, for, as usual, the persistent guide insisted on our
seeing all the "sights" (exaggerating the descriptions, it always
seemed, in proportion to their lack of importance), and it was "Memsahib
this" and "Memsahib that." Christmas Day, with a June temperature, soon
came to a close; the dinner was somewhat English in its many
appointments, with its roast beef and plum pudding,--other home touches
being added by our ever-thoughtful Director. There was good cheer, but
we silently thought of home and the friends far away.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _The Residency at Lucknow_]
BENARES, _December 26th_: Benares is the sacred city of India, and the
river Ganges with the ghats is the point where thousands upon thousands
of worshippers congregate, coming from every point where Hinduism
prevails. We had anticipated revolting scenes, and were not
disappointed, as the superstition of the devotees, the grasping conduct
of the priests, and the disgusting practices in the name of so-termed
religion all contributed to that end. We arrived during the afternoon of
December 26th, going to the Hôtel de Paris. A drive was instantly
proposed, and we were taken to the Maharaja's palace, with grounds laid
out conventionally, the trees and shrubs representing peacocks and
animals of different kinds. The palace was spacious but tawdrily
furnished; it is noteworthy as being the home to which the Maharaja and
his family repair whenever they feel the approach of death; there is a
superstition among the Hindus that death must occur on the north bank of
the sacred river Ganges, in order to become a monkey after death
(monkeys are considered sacred); for if the demise occurs on the
opposite side of the Ganges, one would surely become a donkey.
We next turned toward the celebrated Monkey Temple, a pretentious but
inartistic structure of red sandstone, presided over by the monster wife
of Siva, the Goddess Kali, who is seated on an interior shrine and
almost terrifies the beholder by her demoniacal smile, her neck being
wreathed with skulls. The Goddess of Blood demands a daily sacrifice,
usually a goat and sometimes even a buffalo. At least twenty
terrible-looking priests were in attendance upon her when we arrived and
were ready to slay the inoffensive goat if money was forthcoming. We,
however, declined to witness such a spectacle. Monkeys, disgustingly old
and fat, were everywhere, and filled large trees surrounding the temple,
two hundred at least being visible. Beggars, mendicants, and priests
were abundantly in evidence.
In an attempt to throw some small coins to some children, I was nearly
crushed, the crowd closing around me and separating me from my party,
until a tall Brahman priest with a huge stick checked the mob and I
escaped, to be admonished by the Director of the party, who declared
that I must never repeat the experiment, however much my sympathies
might be drawn upon by the scenes that impressed me.
[Illustration: _Bathing ghat, Benares_]
[Illustration: _Burning ghat, Benares, where cremations occur_]
The following morning we proceeded at 7 A.M. to the scene of all others
in Benares, the bathing ghats. These are steps leading down from the
plateau to the river on the banks of the Ganges and extending a distance
of nearly three miles. Seated in a native small boat, we sailed
leisurely up and down for hours, watching the unusual spectacle. The
Brahman priests were everywhere (there being thirty thousand in Benares
who live on the offerings of the pilgrims), some seated under
umbrella-like canopies, some under tents, others bathing, and others
performing certain sacred offices for the devotees who had come hither
in state, on elephants or camels, by train or on foot, all intent on
securing an increase of religious zeal. The crowds bathing in the sacred
river are a continuous spectacle. There are piers built out into the
stream for convenience, filled with pilgrims of every hue and variety of
dress and undress, some simply wearing the loin cloth, which startled us
at first, but now seemed the legitimate outcome of a lean purse and a
hot climate.
In addition, there is a continuous refrain of voices in solemn
supplication to one or more of the many thousands of Hindu gods, for it
has been stated that there are two hundred thousand divinities in India.
At one point there is a burning ghat, and one morning we witnessed the
preparation for two cremations, one of a poor man and the other of the
wife of a Maharaja. The two ceremonies differed little, except that the
wood for the funeral pile of one cost a mere pittance, while the
sandalwood for the latter cost six hundred rupees. The corpse is carried
on a small litter, or bier, made of bamboo sticks (a man is robed in
white and a woman in red), and deposited in the Ganges, feet foremost;
care is taken that the whole body be immersed in order that purification
may be complete. The relatives arrange the pile of wood, about eight
logs being required. Then the body is transferred to the pyre, and the
torch is applied by one of the family, the others sitting solemnly
around in a circle. When consumed, the ashes are scattered in the river
Ganges. It is a gruesome spectacle, however much it may be in the
interest of sanitary science; but less so to me, who had witnessed the
distribution of the bodies at the Towers of Silence in Bombay.
It will be seen that the principal commodity in Benares is holiness; but
there is one creditable industry, namely, the manufacture of brass.
Several shops were visited, but we liked the modern styles less than the
old Benares brass with which we were familiar.
One thought was uppermost while in Benares; I had pondered over it
before in our visit to India. It was that with the masses Hinduism
to-day means superstition and idolatry, in spite of the fact that the
earlier teaching was of a pure character. That the cultivated Hindus
accept the practices and the priesthood is a mystery as subtle as the
law of caste or the iron law of custom. It is a depressing thought, and
causes a profound feeling of thankfulness that Providence placed us in a
fairer land.
[Illustration: _The Tope of Sarnath and the Jain Temple near Benares_]
The missionary effort of England, America, and other countries has for
years been directed toward changing the condition of the masses, but the
law of caste is such that, to use a set phrase, if a man become a
Christian, he is ostracized, even by the members of his own family,
unless they too follow his example. He is also ostracized as regards any
business he may follow, and the sacrifice he is forced to undergo seems
almost too great for human endurance. Still, according to missionary
reports, this sacrifice is frequently made, which is equivalent to true
heroism. Naturally, the progress of proselyting is slower in India than
in any other country of the Orient, but it is the consensus of opinion
that a greater extension of hospitals in charge of so-termed
missionaries and a greater extension of schools for the young are the
leaven that will work satisfactory results in the future. Another
reassuring sign is the establishment of the Central Hindu College at
Benares by Mrs. A.B. Besant, the Theosophist. This is intended to
elevate the Hindu youth, combining religious and moral education with
mental and athletic development. We saw only the exterior of the
building.
Four miles from Benares, at the site of the old Benares, called Sarnath,
is a most interesting ancient monument known as the Tope of Sarnath. It
is the best preserved of any in Bengal. It was erected in Deer Park to
mark the spot sanctified by the presence of Buddha. It was explored in
1835 and found to be a stupa; but containing no relics, it was evidently
intended to indicate the spot where Buddha first assumed his mission as
a teacher. The tope consists of a stone basement ninety-three feet in
diameter and solidly built of stone. Above the stone is brickwork rising
to a height of one hundred and twenty feet from the plain. The lower
story has niches evidently intended for a figure of Buddha, and below
this is a band of sculptured ornaments of great beauty; it is thought
from the evidences of ornamentation that in date it corresponds to the
best period of Delhi. There is an interesting temple in the vicinity,
and there formerly was a large Buddhist monastery. One also finds acres
of mounds and debris indicating a large Buddhist foundation in the days
when Buddha reigned supreme.
We left Benares for Darjeeling the evening of December 27th, and the
prospect of a glimpse of mountain scenery in the famed Himalaya
foothills, eight thousand feet above the sea, was exhilarating after the
depressing scenes behind us.
* * * * *
SILIGURI, _December 28th_: We arrived at Siliguri early the following
morning, December 28th, and were at once transferred to the Darjeeling
and Himalayan Railway (two-foot gauge with open cars), a triumph of
engineering skill on account of the sudden and wonderful curves which
continue from the beginning to the end and cause the famous Horseshoe
Curve of the Pennsylvania Railway to sink into insignificance. The
ride was exciting, as every bend revealed something new and startling.
Leaving the plain of Bengal behind us, which is a feature of interest,
we commenced the ascent; first through a jungle of cane and grass, both
very high, where tigers, leopards, bears, deer, and the like have their
home; and next through a forest with few familiar trees save the giant
oak. Higher up the graceful bamboo is seen, and still higher fruit trees
are plentiful; then small tea plantations appear, and a more peaceful
landscape. Another bold curve and the glorious snow-capped Kanchanjanga
range is in full view,--a perfect panorama, the atmosphere being clear
and the sky almost cloudless. It was one of the supreme moments of life.
We were now nearing Darjeeling, having made a gradual descent during the
last half-hour.
[Illustration: _A view of Darjeeling and the Kanchanjanga Range_]
* * * * *
DARJEELING, _December 28th_: The Woodlands Hotel, picturesquely situated
on the side of a lesser mountain, became our abiding-place for all too
short a time. Darjeeling is beautifully located upon a ridge, seven
thousand feet above water level. The mountain side is picturesque with
its sprinkling of villas and bungalows, tall mountains towering up as a
background. The average temperature is eighty degrees in summer and
thirty in winter; hence it is a favorite resort. There is a sanitarium
here, called "The Eden." The mountain views prove a great attraction;
the Kanchanjanga range is seen beyond the intervening mountains, with a
vast chasm in the foreground.
The Mall is the principal promenade, and winds around Observatory Hill,
from which fine glimpses of the country are to be obtained. In the
vicinity is St. Andrew's Church, with interesting tablets, and near by
the summer residence of the Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal.
We were admonished to hurry our luncheon in order not to lose the
opportunity of seeing the celebrated bazar of which we had heard so
much, even in Bombay. I do not refer to the regular street bazar, but to
a bazar at which crowds of peasants from different provinces congregate
once a week for the sale of silver and turquoise jewelry, which is
mostly exhibited on their persons, supplemented by a small bundle which
is carried; but the transactions are very primitive and unlike those at
any other bazar. Then there are the quaint things they wear,--artistic
chatelaines with articles generally suspended and thrown over the
shoulder, instead of worn around the waist, immense earrings,
finger-rings, bracelets, and anklets; also large round silver pins for
the hair, suspended between two long ornaments resembling an elongated
corkscrew--all linked together with a narrow black ribbon tied in a
bow. The wearing of this latter head ornament was very grotesque, and I
bought one taken from the hair of a peasant, besides purchasing some
other articles which now serve as a reminder of the quaint scene. The
dress of the men, women, and children was peculiar, and varied according
to their province, such as Bhutias, Tibetans, Nepalese, Pelaris,
Ghorkas, and others.
[Illustration: _A Nepaulese group_]
Their shrewd faces were illuminated with smiles as they realized the
success of a bargain which was doubtless far in excess of the value of
the article purchased; or failing of a bargain their persistent attempts
to secure one were amusing. As we walked around through the motley
crowd, powerless to express ourselves except in the universal language
of pantomime, with mountains all around us and the Kanchanjanga still in
view, we felt as though we were a part of a play, it seemed so unreal.
Later we visited the street bazars, all of them furnished with articles
claimed to be antique. In the evening the proprietor of the hotel gave
us an interesting description of scenes in Tibet, illustrated with
lantern views.
The cold of late December now became intense, and it required some
courage to be called at three o'clock in the morning for an expedition
to Tiger Hill to see the sun rise. A half-hour after, nevertheless, saw
our departure, and you would have smiled at the spectacle I presented,
seated in a chair with six bearers (two for a relay), rugs and cushions
piled around me, the crowning feature being a red blanket which, at the
last moment, one of the bearers draped around my shoulders. It was
moonlight when we left the valley. The view of each mountain and gorge
was marvellous, so unlike daylight, as the moon ever throws elusive
shadows about all things it touches. Before we reached our destination,
the first streak of dawn was faintly outlined against the horizon, as if
heralding the approach of some great spectacle, which soon came in
shades of gold and pink; then bursting forth like a great ball of fire
which illuminated the whole scene, even the distant Kanchanjanga range
being suffused with a pinkish glow. We held our breath and were
thankful, for the guide had told us that a perfect sunrise was a rare
occurrence. Mount Everest, 29,002 feet high, eighty miles distant, and
the highest peak in the world, as usual was but dimly seen. After the
excitement of the morning, the hot coffee and rolls which were provided
for us proved most acceptable. We lingered on for a half-hour, amused
that even above the clouds human nature is the same, as every bearer
produced rings or other trinkets for our inspection and possible
purchase. The descent was made in the blinding sunlight, and indeed it
was so warm that we laid aside our blankets, and we noted the different
aspects which all Nature wore.
A nine-o'clock breakfast followed, and we were ready for other
experiences. The descent to Siliguri was not unlike the ascent, with the
view reversed. A night train conveyed us to Sara Ghat, where we arrived
early in the morning and were taken across the river Ganges to
Dumonkdeah, where we took a train for Calcutta, one hundred and sixteen
miles distant.
* * * * *
CALCUTTA, _December 31st_: There is, in a certain sense, a link between
Benares and Calcutta; the latter is situated on the Hooghly River, which
is an outlet of the river Ganges, but no resemblance exists between
India's modern winter capital and the city of superstition. We arrived
in Calcutta on December 31st, and repaired to the Strand Hotel. An
afternoon drive to Eden Park proved delightful, and on every side we saw
attractive surroundings.
January 1st dawned brightly, and found us at 7 A.M. driving to the fine
esplanade, called "The Maidan," and extending two miles. We were on our
way to witness the great annual military review by the Viceroy, now Lord
Minto. Presentation Day is the term here applied to New Year's Day. It
was a gala occasion indeed, and the equipages of the rich, and the
smaller vehicles of all descriptions, encircled the barrier that
intervened between the spectators and those who were to furnish the
display. There were also hundreds on foot, some of them in the brilliant
native dress of various colors, with their many-hued turbans. This was
specially noticeable in the livery of many of the native carriages,
where gold trimmings were profuse, and the same scheme was carried out
in the dress of the two coachmen and two footmen, the latter being
called _syces_. The militia presented a splendid appearance, and the
infantry marched with the greatest precision, but the cavalry, as usual,
carried off the honors as regards spectacular display, particularly the
native cavalry with their picturesque dress. Lord Minto and his aides
were elegantly decked in their accoutrements and elicited much cheering.
We returned for a nine-thirty breakfast, and left afterwards for a
sight-seeing expedition, having been warned not to expect much in this
line at Calcutta. St. Paul's Cathedral--English--was interesting on
account of the many memorials and statues, one of Bishop Heber having
much merit. Fort William and the grounds of the Government House, the
Dalhousie Club, the Black Hole, and other points were also visited.
[Illustration: _The Government House in Calcutta_]
The Black Hole is so often mentioned in connection with Calcutta that a
few words of explanation seem necessary. It was at the time of the
siege of Calcutta in 1756 a small room in the barracks, twenty-two by
fourteen feet in size, and sixteen feet in height. One hundred human
beings were crowded into it on the night of June 20th, and there were
only twenty-three survivors in the morning. A memorial obelisk was
erected by one of these survivors, and this was restored by order of
Lord Curzon.
The Imperial Museum is a very large building and has extensive
geological and archæological departments. It also possesses a fine
library.
We omitted the burning ghat, remembering the one at Benares, but a Hindu
temple revealed another repulsive goddess, Kali, and the sacrifice of
the goat had just occurred. The river front has a ghat for bathing.
A drive to the distant Botanical Gardens proved of much interest, and
the largest banyan tree in the world was there displayed, having four
hundred and sixty-four aerial branches and covering over an acre in
extent; there were also long avenues of palms.
Lacking the fine harbor of Bombay, Calcutta is still a city of great
commercial importance and of many natural attractions and fine public
buildings. It is, however, a place of decided contrasts, imposing
streets of residences being not far distant from as wretched a native
quarter as may be seen in any other Indian city. To the casual tourist
Calcutta seems a large English city (eight hundred thousand
inhabitants), especially so in the life on the Maidan, the centre of
attraction and fashion. Eden Park is also greatly frequented, and the
race-course is the finest in India; but, notwithstanding, Calcutta has
not the charm of Bombay. The Strand Hotel gave us an elaborate menu for
our New Year's dinner, which was supplemented by flowers and bonbons,
and we all voted the occasion, even if in a foreign land, a success. And
so I link Lucknow and Calcutta together in the holiday column of my
memory.
I have before alluded to the sad, dejected faces of the natives of North
India; the Bengali seemed a trifle more melancholy, as is their
reputation. We did not regret our departure, although it meant the loss
of our faithful Indian guide, Dalle, and our travelling servant, Jusef,
both with their long India bordered shawls artistically thrown over one
shoulder, and their high white turbans rolled round and round the head,
the finishing touch being a tall conical ornament that stood up in the
centre. This is significant of their territorial province, styles of
turbans varying with the locality. The early hour of 6 A.M. found us
departing on the British and India line for a steamer trip of three
days, Rangoon being our destination.
[Illustration: _An avenue of palms in the Botanical Gardens_]
The trip was restful, but afforded little variety, and we hailed our
arrival at Rangoon with delight early on the morning of January 6th. By
a late decision we concluded to go on at once to Mandalay and leave
Rangoon to be visited on our return. Taking a train at noon, we were
favored by journeying in _de luxe_ cars, sacred to the use of high
officials, and so complete in equipment as to include bathroom,
shower-bath, and other conveniences. The afternoon ride was through a
fertile country, rice and bananas being the principal products. The rice
crop had been garnered, and piles of bags were ready at every station
for shipment to Rangoon (the amount shipped is two hundred thousand tons
annually). Later we visited a field where rice was being harvested. It
is not unlike wheat in the sheaf, but smaller. The country process after
cutting is first to pound the rice, and then winnow it so as to remove
the hull; this is done by throwing it in the air, by means of a round
flat plate with a handle. Machinery is used in the cities.
* * * * *
BURMA: We were now far from the centre of things, in a remote corner of
Southeastern Asia, hidden in the midst of mountains, which were for ages
the safeguard against Indian invaders and the aggression of China.
Proselyting Buddhists, however, found their way from India and brought
civilization with them.
There is a great diversity of races in Burma, various foreign tribes
having come there and remained, making a mixed population. There are now
about sixty thousand Palaings wearing the Chin dress. The Kachins, a
warlike people, formerly made raids on the Burmans who lived on the
border of China, the Chins dwelling among the hills. The Karens are
numerically the strongest and live in the delta of the Irrawaddy. They
had been an oppressed people, but achieved their liberty under British
rule, and it is estimated that one hundred thousand abjured Buddhism and
became Christians. The Chins are the oldest, having come from China two
thousand years ago.
Southern Burma was under British rule before the middle of the
nineteenth century, but it is only since January, 1886, that England has
controlled Northern Burma. King Thebaw's downfall was caused by his
numerous cruel acts to foreigners, which compelled the British to take
steps to check him. His headquarters were at Mandalay, and his deserted
palace is the centre of attraction to-day. The most prominent feature is
the fort, in and about which are grouped the palace of the King, the
houses of Government officials and residents of the military quarter.
[Illustration: _Fort Dufferin and the moat, Mandalay_]
[Illustration: _Mandalay palace and its tower, called The Centre of the
Universe_]
The palace was erected by Mindon Min, King Thebaw's father. It covers an
immense area and is encompassed by a high wall of red brick, in which
are twelve gates, each one surrounded by a conical cupola, with layers
of upturned eaves after the peculiar fashion of the country; the same
thing is characteristic of China.
The fort is entirely surrounded by a moat, one hundred feet wide and
twelve feet deep. Five bridges also lead from five of the gateways. The
moat supplies drinking water for the city and is covered with the purple
lotus blossom. Its width and extent make it a characteristic feature of
Mandalay. Roads run parallel with the walls and lead to the entrance of
the palace gardens, once very beautiful.
The palace is a square of twenty or more buildings, built of teak,
painted red, and covered originally with gold leaf. The roofs have
layers of upturned eaves, and the buildings are richly decorated with
colored ornamentation, while the worn gilding and faded reds are blended
in the peculiar shading which time alone can give. There are many
audience rooms, these usually furnished with elaborately decorated
thrones, as is also the audience room in the beautiful adjacent palace
of the Queen; her throne and the King's great throne in the principal
audience room under the lofty cupola (called pyathat, and termed by the
people the "Centre of the Universe") are especially imposing and rich in
decoration. On either side of this audience chamber are large audience
rooms; these were used for some time after the British occupation as a
church for the soldiers, and the Queen's palace was turned into a
resting place for the Upper Burma Club; now both the church and the club
have appropriate edifices of their own. Between two of the principal
rooms is a screen, utilized as a wall and panelled in glass, mosaic, and
mirrors, which is very effective and reminds one of the glass room in
the palace at Amber.
From the high hill at Mandalay, one may gain an excellent general view
of the many pagodas and monasteries in which the city abounds; for this
is verily the land of the pagoda. The most beautiful of all, called the
Incomparable, was destroyed by fire. One of great interest was built by
Mindon Min, and called the Kuthodau, or, more generally, the 450
Pagodas, but there are said to be seven hundred and twenty-nine cupolas
surrounding the great central pagoda, each containing an alabaster slab
upon which are engraved some texts of Buddha taken from the Pali Bible,
the King thinking thus to perpetuate them,--the whole surrounded by a
wall, in which are built two richly decorated gates.
[Illustration: _The Arakan Pagoda_]
[Illustration: _One of the four gateways to the 450 Pagodas_]
Situated very near the so-termed 450 Pagodas is a group of attractive
pagodas in carved wood and plaster of different designs. In the centre
is an unfinished marble pagoda, called Kyauk Taw Gyi, which contains
a huge attractive figure of Buddha, twenty-five feet high.
On the same morning we visited the glass monastery which once on a time
had been very imposing. Here we saw the Bishop and a number of novice
priests receiving instruction, taking, I imagine, a kind of postgraduate
course. All were most affable and seemed happy, as does every one in
Burma. At this monastery two of our party were given copies of a portion
of the Burmese Bible.
Monasteries are also very prominent in Burma, and they are usually boys'
schools, both for young and adult people.
In the afternoon we visited the great Arakan Pagoda, a shrine which
pilgrims of the Buddhist faith frequent from all over the world. It is
built in the form of a square tower, rising in a series of terraces,
growing smaller and ending in a finial at the summit. There are also
battlements with finials capping the top. The whole is gilded and is
very magnificent in appearance, even to the gilded figure of Buddha,
which occupies the principal throne. The day we were there, the throne
was surrounded by worshippers, and the long passages leading from the
pagoda to it were densely thronged. There are four smaller passages,
each being filled with stalls where is displayed almost every
conceivable article, even to fruit and flowers. Near one of the
passages are two large tanks filled with grayish water where are kept
the sacred turtles. The turtles were fed while we were present and
seemed very tame. In the adjacent enclosure we saw many large bells of
graduated size, for which Burma is famous. In an enclosure young men
were playing the game of football, called "Chinlon," in that country,
which means "round basket," the ball being about six inches in diameter.
The players stand in a circle a few feet apart. The ball is thrown by
one, and the player nearest to whom it falls kicks it in the air, and
attempts to repeat this feat several times in order to keep the ball up,
but failing to do so, the next player gains possession and throws it,
and so on.
The visit to the Queen's Golden Monastery was peculiarly interesting. It
is a fine specimen of native architecture, made of elaborately carved
teakwood, finely gilded, but showing the marks of age. In the large
central room, from which leads a smaller room separated only by columns,
the so-called golden image of Buddha (also bejewelled) rests on a raised
dais, and in front is a long table containing a great variety of votive
offerings to the deity from a widely scattered circle of believers. The
columns surrounding these rooms were profusely decorated with glass
ornamentation, and the effect was startling. The Bishop in his robe of
yellow silk--the color of the Buddhist priesthood--was gracious, and
the young priests very jolly. We received several presents of long
narrow books written on palm-leaf, the text being a translation in
modern Burmese from the old Pali Bible. It is unnecessary to add that we
left compensation, the sale of said books being forbidden; hence such is
the way of evading the law!
[Illustration: _The Queen's Golden Monastery_]
[Illustration: _Karen women in Mandalay_]
This monastery contained, like the Silver Monastery, a school for
children. On our departure, an interesting little episode occurred. A
young priest draped his long yellow robe around one of the gentlemen, in
veritable Roman toga style, the right arm and shoulder being exposed.
Then one of the party took a photograph, promising to send a copy to the
monastery.
The support of the Buddhist monasteries depends on charity, and a
procession of priests from each monastery goes about with mendicant
bowls or baskets, each morning soliciting food and fruit, everything
being placed in one receptacle. Rice, however, is the principal
contribution.
We also visited the Aindaw-Yah Pagoda, the oldest in Mandalay. This is
entirely gilt, from base to spire, and presents an imposing appearance.
It is surrounded by a large square or platform on which are placed
various other shrines containing small images of Buddha.
The cause of there being so many pagodas in Burma is that thereby the
builder gains renown and paves the way for greater happiness in a future
state. For the above reason the pagoda is seldom repaired. The builder
desires to be approached as "the builder of a pagoda," and invariably
addresses his wife as "O wife of a pagoda builder." Architecturally the
pagoda, in general, may be described as having a spire, massive
throughout, rising from a circular, square, or octagonal base, in a
succession of tiers or circles, of which the upper is always narrower
than the one beneath it.
The principal industry of Mandalay is the weaving of silk, for which it
is very celebrated, and a visit to the bazar was most interesting.
Unlike the bazars previously described, this was a large, high building,
filled with aisles and furnished with long tables, at the back of which
sat the saleswomen; all the business of the bazar is carried on by
women. There was a great variety of silk weaving of every conceivable
shape and style, the sarong being prominent. This is a long colored
garment which the women of Burma wear pinned tightly around them below
the waist, unlike the fuller skirt we had seen in India, the dress being
completed by a short, loose jacket which shows a white under-vest and a
long, wide sash. The market was also very interesting, in a small
building next or adjoining the silk bazar.
[Illustration: _Burmese country house near Mandalay_]
It may be well to speak here of the happy, contented, pleasure-loving
Burmese women. Indeed, their condition could have been envied a few
years ago, even in a portion of our own United States, as they can hold
property in their own right and are entitled to their earnings. This
causes them to be very industrious as well as executive. It is possible
that the sunny aspect of Nature may partly be responsible for their
joyous appearance, as it certainly causes the men to be very indolent
and quite willing that their wives should carry on their business,
provided they are left undisturbed to enjoy life in their own way.
The women are very fond of dress, and, unlike the women of India, wear
only real jewelry; travellers see a profusion of solitaire diamond
rings, every one of which is said to be genuine.
There is no caste in Burma and no division of class; in the olden time
any one might become a prince or a prime minister if he had the ability
to rise. There is little expression of art or literature, the life being
very simple. The people are indeed children of Nature, and the only
expression of taste is to be found in their pagodas and monasteries.
Their silver work and wood carving are fine. The houses in the country
are usually built of bamboo, raised from the ground on poles, four to
six feet, as protection against floods, reptiles, and other mishaps.
The floor usually consists of split bamboo, the thatched roof of
elephant grass. The sides of the house are of bamboo, opening to the
street on verandas. Some have second stories. Around these homes birds
and animals and naked children are everywhere to be seen.
Among the incidents of our stay at Mandalay I remember a native dance,
called "Pwe," given one evening in front of the hotel. This was a little
on the order of a vaudeville, consisting of a mixture of talk, song, and
dance. The performers were arranged on a high platform. The women were
dressed in the extreme of Burmese fashion, having long pink silk sarongs
tightly drawn around them, jackets and long sashes, and with flowers in
the hair. They appeared in the dancing and the singing, while the two
men furnished the dialogue. The music was anything but melodious, and
the talking we could not understand; but from the applause of the large
number of spectators gathered around, we assumed, however, that it was
funny. The movement of the dance was very slow and measured, as had been
all the dancing we had witnessed in the Orient. The effect was rather
spectacular, seen in a dim light, with trees for a background. Whenever
a dance of this kind occurs, it soon gets noised about, and large
gatherings of people arrive, and they group themselves around, sitting
always on the ground and observing a profound silence except when they
applaud.
[Illustration: _A national dance at Mandalay_]
Near our hotel was an English Wesleyan mission, directed by the Rev. Mr.
Bestol. A friend and I visited it, and found it very interesting and
cheerful,--the home of the missionaries, and the assistant teachers who
supervised the boys' and girls' school, and the dormitories. They seemed
to be doing a very good work. On the occasion of our first call, they
had all gone on a picnic, quite after our usual Sunday-school fashion.
We also heard of other missions of merit.
At 5 P.M. we left our hotel for the landing of the Irrawaddy Flotilla
Company to pass the night on the steamer _Siam_. We were now on a model
river vessel for three days. The scenery was varied and picturesque. At
points from the water's edge there were terraced slopes of vegetation,
trees of many kinds and hues, the dark green foliage alternating with
the light green of the graceful bamboo, while creepers and flowers
peeped out here and there, also clumps of toddy palms rearing their
lofty heads, while the ever-prevalent pagoda glistened white or golden
through the branches. As the steamer carried freight, occasional stops
were made, and this gave variety to the scene.
We arrived at Pakoku about 4 P.M. and anchored for the night. The shore
was lined with piles of bags, boxes, and other usual accessories.
Natives were seen in all directions with a new array of articles, some
bearing baskets suspended from bamboo poles across the shoulders, while
bullock carts and other primitive vehicles, together with the variety of
style and color of the attire worn by the natives, made a scene truly
picturesque. We also stopped at Mirout. Here were mud volcanoes, which
some of the party visited, being carried there in bullock carts, and
found them rather interesting, the volcanoes emitting mud instead of
lava.
We arrived at a place near old Pagan at four in the morning, and never
can I forget the spectacle presented from my stateroom window. There was
total darkness, save where long lines of natives with lanterns, coming
from the woods in every direction, were seen carrying boxes, bales, and
baskets of freight to the shore. Once at the landing, the rush and
commotion and waving of lanterns were truly Burmese. The next point in
our progress was old Pagan, where we saw many pagodas, but we were told
that there were as many as a thousand in the days of her prosperity.
On the river we constantly passed shipping of various kinds, sometimes
huge rafts of teakwood propelled by natives, mostly devoid of attire;
the peculiar Burman paddy boats of old Egyptian style are used for
transporting unhulled rice. A more peaceful trip cannot be imagined,
and it has been compared to a passage up the Nile.
[Illustration: _On the Irrawaddy River, near Sagoing_]
* * * * *
PROME: We arrived at Prome the evening of January 12th, but owing to
some hours' delay we were disappointed in not having the expected drive
or visiting the celebrated pagoda. We took the night train for Rangoon
and were so fortunate as to have the _de luxe_ cars again.
* * * * *
RANGOON: We reached the city early the following morning. Rangoon is
located on the ocean and is furthermore aided by the Irrawaddy River,
which is navigable for over nine hundred miles. It has an unrivalled
location for future growth and permanence. Rangoon's increase has been
phenomenal for this latitude; in 1852 it was a small fishing village; in
1904 the inhabitants numbered two hundred and fifty thousand, and there
has since been a marked increase. The population is divided into
Burmese, Hindus, Mohammedans, and Christians, with a sprinkling of other
nationalities,--a variety which is distinctly recognized in the life of
the city. It has a large export trade in rice, lumber, and oil, and a
visit to one of the factories is almost always included by tourists.
The shipping at Rangoon presents a picturesque variety, as ocean
steamers, river steamers, paddy boats, and quaint smaller vessels are
always in evidence. The civil and municipal buildings do not, however,
compare with those of such rival cities in India as Bombay, Calcutta,
and Madras. The bazars in the European quarter are unusually fine, and
it was a pleasure to visit them, silks, curios, and silver work being
well displayed. In the native quarter those of the inhabitants to be
seen on the street (previously described) had no distinctive character,
but the native silk bazars were mostly in a large, low, poorly lighted
building, divided into aisles. A visit to this neighborhood showed the
happy-go-lucky features noticed in Mandalay.
Indeed, life in Burma is like a comic opera. I realized this one morning
when going about simply to be amused. The market and pavements were
crowded with persons of different nationalities,--the pineapple man with
his tray of fruit, the Burmese girl with her pretty stall of cigars, the
Hindu seller of betel, the Chinaman under his swaying burden of cooked
meats and strange luxuries, the vermicelli man, the Indian confectioner
with his silver-coated pyramids of sago and cream. It is of all crowds
the most cosmopolitan. Here is the long-coated Persian with his air of
breeding and dignity, jostled by the naked coolie with rings in his
nose. The lady beauty of Japan dashes by in her jinrikisha drawn by a
Chinese coolie, and the exclusive Brahman finds himself shoulder to
shoulder with the laughing daughter of the soil who has never heard of
caste.
[Illustration: _General view of Rangoon_]
* * * * *
SHWE DAGON: The centre of attraction in Rangoon, however, is the Shwe
Dagon Pagoda, which is famous wherever the Buddhist religion prevails;
it is situated on an eminence, one hundred and sixty-six feet above the
sea-level and towering up three hundred and sixty-eight feet. It is a
very imposing structure, exceeding in height even St. Paul's Cathedral
in London. This proportion gives it an air of dignity and repose, while
its gilded surface from base to finial causes it to be truly
magnificent.
The structure has no interior, being built solidly of brick over a relic
chamber; hence its platform with a circumference of about fourteen
hundred feet is the place for worship and also for many small pagodas.
The great pagoda is of conical shape and is divided into twelve parts,
and of these the ti, or umbrella, valued at £60,000, is the most costly
and remarkable, and was the gift of King Mindon, the next to the last
king of Burma. While from its great height it is scarcely visible, it is
really thirteen and one-half feet high and is hung with about fifteen
hundred bells, many of them gold. When heard at night, the effect is
magical.
The southern entrance has a pair of gryphons, and beyond them is the
entrance arch, which is inferior to the rest of the edifice. Here may be
seen venders of many kinds, selling gold leaf (which is used by pilgrims
on the surface of the pagoda), books, papers, toys, and offerings to
place on the altar; and the scene around the stalls is instinct with
life and gayety. Brightly dressed women and children, coquettish girls,
nuns, and beggars all assemble here.
There are four flights of stairs, east, west, north, and south, leading
up to the platform; the southern one being mostly used, as it looks down
upon the thoroughfare. The western stairs have been closed to
worshippers, as the place is now a British fortress.
It is impossible to describe the many objects of interest on this
immense platform. Four chapels at the foot of the pagoda are guarded by
colossal figures of the sitting Buddha, and in the farthest recess, in a
niche, is a small Buddha, the gilding of which is discolored by the
smoke from many thousands of tapers and candles.
On each side of the pagoda are chapels with tapering roofs and upturned
eaves, and within them are seated images of the Buddha covered with
gold. These attract large numbers of worshippers, and with the myriad
waxen tapers produce an impressive effect.
[Illustration: _Shwe Dagon Pagoda at Rangoon_]
[Illustration: _Entrance gateway, Shwe Dagon Pagoda_]
[Illustration: _Chapels on platform around Shwe Dagon, Rangoon_]
The chapels are decorated with screens of fine wood carving. The
coloring is also very striking, the outside being of vermilion and gold,
the inside of green, gold, and purple.
Hundreds of Buddhas of various sizes are seen in all directions,
sitting, standing, and reclining; and on the outer edge of the platform
are small pagodas, each with its ti, or umbrella, and also holding its
usual offerings of fruit, flowers, or small gifts. Seen at twilight and
as the candles are being lighted, it is almost bewildering, even
uncanny, as I found one evening when there alone with my guide, the
renowned Abraham, who, even though a rigid Mohammedan, assumed a devout
attitude.
Another prominent pagoda is the gilded Sule. This is situated quite in
the heart of things, near the Strand, and is graceful in proportions.
The platform also contains many interesting shrines. A fine distant view
of the Sule is obtained from Hytche Square.
There are many monasteries (virtually schools for boys), the finest
being at a suburb called Kemmendine, which is also a centre for the
manufacture of kalagas, or blankets, usually red with figures in
appliqué. We enjoyed several pleasant drives while in Rangoon, the
favorite one being to Royal Lake and through Dalhousie Park; if taken in
the late afternoon, one will see a gayly dressed, fashionable throng,
either driving or walking. I had met Mr. and Mrs. W.T. Graham of the
Burma Civil Service on the steamer from Port Saïd to Bombay, and I was
indebted to them for two drives,--one to their country home, which was
an attractive two-storied bungalow with galleries and low windows above
and below, quite unlike the thatched houses seen in Upper Burma. There
were contrasts in the general dress and appearance of the natives; pink
was, however, still the prevailing color in the sarongs, sashes, and
jackets of the women, and the long hair of the men was the custom. The
intermarriage between Burmese women and Chinamen was said to be very
frequent, some of the women preferring the hard-working executive
Chinamen to the indolent Burmese. And, according to the opinion of a
gentleman I met later, who had made a study of the subject, the
intermarriage of the ever-prevalent Chinamen with races of the Orient,
where caste does not prevent, is in time going to work a great racial
revolution.
One morning we rose at 5 A.M. for an early excursion to see elephants
haul teak from the river-bank to higher ground, where the logs would dry
before transference to the sawmills. We went at this time so as to avoid
the heat, and also because the elephants rest after 11 A.M. The
illustration will show the process, but it was an amusing sight to see
five ponderous animals moving slowly along, propelling the logs with
their trunks, and ever and anon trumpeting; not being versed in elephant
expression, I was left in doubt as to whether the sound meant joy or
sorrow. We visited another similar scene near a large sawmill which we
explored under the leadership of the manager.
[Illustration: _Elephants carrying logs at Rangoon_]
[Illustration: _The Gilded Sule as seen from Hytche Square_]
A trip to a rice-mill had been spoken of, but, not having breakfasted,
we preferred to return to the hotel. Tea and toast were served at
rising, if one desired it, during our entire "Tour." Another novel
excursion was a long drive to some half-ruined Buddhist temples, a
monastery, and buildings assigned to the peculiar rites which precede
the cremation of a Buddhist priest; two bodies were seen in
curious-looking receptacles, awaiting the culmination of events.
We were disappointed in not seeing a "ceremony," but were told to come
in the evening and witness a temple dance, and, I believe, also a
semi-dramatic ceremony. Some of the party did so, but I remained in the
hotel to write letters, as we were to leave the following morning.
I have alluded to Abraham, our guide in Burma, as a devout Mohammedan,
but he had numerous characteristics which rather caused distrust, one of
them being his extreme deference to the ladies of the party, when
according to the tenets of his religion we were all "fiends incarnate";
the other was his apparent abject acceptance of all Buddhist
ceremonies, which we knew at heart he detested. However, "guides" became
a prolific study, as time went on.
The weather had been hot in Rangoon; so, in spite of our pleasant Burman
experiences and the joyousness of things in general, we hailed the
steamer voyage as affording some measure of relief. We sailed at 7 A.M.
on January 17th, on the steamer _Palmicotta_, for a voyage of four days
to Madras. As usual, nothing occurred to mar the even tenor of our way;
the ship was comfortable, the passengers affable, and the sea on good
behavior.
* * * * *
MADRAS, _January 21st_: We arrived at Madras early on the morning of
January 21st. The view of the city from the pier was disappointing, but
the drive of about two miles to the Hotel Connemara showed much natural
beauty, the trees in particular being very fine. Hot weather met us at
Madras, but as it is a city of magnificent distances, driving was a
necessity, and hence less exertion was required. In the park and at the
Botanical Gardens we saw more natural beauty and took the long drive to
the sea front, where the fashionable people of the city of Marina go in
large numbers, and which leads past fine municipal buildings, the
college, and other places of importance. St. George's Church is
pleasing, with its quota of memorial statues, and the close is very
attractive, reminding one of England. The drive through the native
quarter, called Black Town, presented unusual features. The fort and
parks were visited, as were also some rather attractive bazars. The
museum is interesting from an historical standpoint and has many statues
and bas-reliefs, some relating to Prince Gautama and some to Hindu gods;
there are also relics of saints. It is particularly rich in specimens of
armor and jewelled swords.
[Illustration: _General view of Madras_]
Madras seems quite as unlike the cities of Northern India as does
Rangoon, and comparatively few of the thousands of tourists who frequent
Northern India ever visit Southern India, a great distinction between
the two being made. It is, however, conveniently near the great Seven
Pagodas, which we did not visit, and is the gateway to the famous
Dravidian temples which presented much interest.
We left early in the afternoon in order to visit Tanjore, Trichinopoly,
and Madura, and for two days sleeping-cars were to be our home. There
are no hotels in these cities, the wonderful temples serving as a
substitute, while the English railway restaurant afforded us a certain
amount of sustenance. The ride to Tanjore was through a lovely country
with beautiful palms, groves of vari-hued trees, and occasionally a
tangle of vines.
* * * * *
TANJORE: On our arrival at Tanjore in the afternoon we went directly to
the forts which enclose the temple, palace, and gopuras. The temple is
in the little fort. The gopuras claim first attention. They are really
gateways, a feature peculiar to Southern India. They were intended as a
fortification to protect the temples from foreign invaders, and are
imposing in size and structure--towering up (some nine stories high)
course after course, and literally covered with carvings of animals and
gods, all colored in red and gold. We passed through a gopura ninety
feet high, next through a passage one hundred and seventy feet long,
then through a small gopura, when we arrived at the large outer
enclosure of the temple, four hundred and fifty by eight hundred feet.
This is further surrounded by cloisters and open to outsiders, who are
not, however, permitted to enter the great temple of the adjacent halls.
But even at a distance we could admire their barbaric splendor.
We were also entertained by the gorgeous temple peacock (considered
sacred), of enormous size, which, with outstretched tail, posed for us
with as much evident vanity as a coquettish girl. There are smaller
shrines and temples distributed about the great enclosure, and in one
temple is an immense bronze bull. The tower of the great temple is only
thirty-eight feet lower than the Kutub Minar described in "Old Delhi."
In the northwest corner of the enclosure is an exquisite small temple
called Siva Manya and dedicated to the son of Siva. It has a tower fifty
feet high and a base forty feet square, adorned with pillars, and these
are continued along another cloister, fifty feet long. Mr. Ferguson
writes: "It is as exquisite a piece of decorative architecture as is to
be found in Southern India." The great fort seems like a continuation of
the small one, and in it are situated the palace and Schwartz Church.
[Illustration: _The Great Subrahmanya Temple at Tanjore_]
The palace of the Princess of Tanjore is an immense structure and was
built about 1550 A.D. It has no merit architecturally, but possesses
certain features of interest; one of these is a large Durbar room which
contains bas-reliefs on the wall, and a platform of black granite, on
which stands a white marble statue by Flaxman of Raja Shah Foji, who was
a pupil of Flaxman and who was next to the last Raja. There are also to
be found here portraits of the various members of the royal family and a
bust of Lord Nelson. In addition, we came across an unusual library for
India, dating from the end of the sixteenth century, and containing
eighteen thousand Sanskrit manuscripts, one half of them written on palm
leaves. Our English guide showed us a portion of the palace occupied by
two ladies, relatives of the last Raja, this being a courtesy extended
to them by the English Government and which ceases with their death.
The Schwartz Church dates from 1770 A.D., and the aged missionary is
immortalized in a monument designed by Flaxman, which contains eight
figures beside the reclining one.
The Tanjore and Trichinopoly districts were the scene of the earliest
work of the Protestant missionaries in India, and the Roman Catholic
missionaries antedated them by half a century. Churches of these faiths
are scattered through this and the adjoining districts. We had a late
luncheon in the restaurant of the railway station and then repaired to
the train. I have great dislike for a sleeping-car, so it can be
imagined that the visit to the Dravidian temples was made under
difficulties. We proceeded to Trichinopoly, arriving there early and
having a long day before us.
* * * * *
TRICHINOPOLY: Trichinopoly, like Tanjore, has a history full of
vicissitudes, in which the French and that picturesque figure, Lord
Clive, appear. The temple of Sri Ranngam is situated a mile from the
bridge and three miles from the fort, the entrance being through a
gopura forty-eight feet high; the sides of this passage, one hundred
feet long and forty-three feet high, are richly ornamented. The
monoliths which serve as pillars are forty feet high, and every detail
is on a gigantic scale; this is the largest Hindu temple in India. The
outer enclosure alone is twenty-four hundred and seventy-five by
twenty-eight hundred and eighty feet, and has its elephant, but it wears
a commercial aspect (being filled with bazars) which detracts from the
dignity of the scene. As we penetrated to the interior temple, the
buildings diminished in size and importance; the gopuras, however, are
imposing (there are nine in all), with their profuse decoration, all
being painted and all varying in size.
[Illustration: _Fort Rock, Trichinopoly_]
In the court around the central enclosure is a hall of about one
thousand pillars; these are of granite, eighteen feet in height. On one
side the pillars represent men astride rearing horses, the horses' feet
being supported by the shields of men on foot beside them. This temple
was built about 700 B.C. The tanks are of interest in Trichinopoly, but
less so than in Madura.
The great rock is the most noticeable feature, tunnelled out of which is
a circular staircase with a gateway leading to interior temples, and on
the sides of this passage are pillars with peculiar capitals which seem
to indicate Jain origin. The way upward was dimly lighted, and all
manner of accidents seemed possible. In fact, there was a very serious
accident in 1849, when five hundred persons were killed. At one landing
there was a school of small boys; at another, there were groups of
worshippers making their descent; turning to the left, we saw a small
temple of Siva. In the dim light everything seemed weird and unreal. The
view from the top of the rock was far-reaching, gopuras and temples
gleaming through the green foliage. There were sacred elephants here, as
at Tanjore, standing in the usual receptive attitude; for them small
coins were more acceptable than food, showing how adroitly they had been
trained.
* * * * *
MADURA: Another very early arrival at Madura, and the programme of the
day before was repeated. Although Madura is a large place, the temples,
gopuras, and palaces are the chief attraction. The famous Palace of
Tirumala Nayak is splendid in its appointments, having large, airy halls
and audience rooms (similar to the Diwan-i-Khas of Delhi and Agra) with
richly decorated ceilings, and the bedchamber is resplendent with
carving and gilding. There is a fine view from the roof of the great
temple. The nine gopuras are tall, massive, and barbaric in their
decorations, which consist of horses, lions, elephants, gods and
goddesses. The great shrines of Siva and his consort are almost
interminable in their extent, and there is a long vestibule or hall
divided into aisles by carved columns. This formed a reception room
for the King in early times, a great contrast to the present scene of
tumultuous venders with almost every variety of goods, who are more
noisy than their brothers of North India.
[Illustration: _The Golden Lily Tank, Madura_]
[Illustration: _Entrance to the Madura Temple_]
Within the temple there are many shrines and many Tamil worshippers;
high-caste Brahmans are also there to minister to the supposed wants of
the higher gods. Galleries led us out to still other shrines, where are
installed additional images of gods, who on fête days are carried about
in gold and silver chariots of untold value. All the most beautiful
portions of the temple as it now stands were built by Tirumala Nayak,
the great Madura ruler of modern times, who ascended the throne in 1623
and reigned thirty-six years.
One of the quadrangles opens out on a tank. An arcade runs around the
tank, and the walls are painted with representations of the most famous
pagodas in India. On the north side is the belfry--strange to relate, an
American bell hangs therein. Here too is the Hall of a Thousand Pillars,
and this is even more remarkable than the same-named hall at
Trichinopoly, on account of the marvellous beauty of the construction.
Near the hall is the great gopura, and opposite this is the new gallery,
of a magnificent plan but unfinished, known as Tirumala's Choultrie.
There is so much of interest and detail connected with all of these
Dravidian temples that one should plan to have more time to devote to
them. The cursory examination we were afforded measures the disadvantage
of an itinerary. We left after luncheon for Tuticorin, and arrived there
at 5 P.M.
* * * * *
TUTICORIN: Tuticorin, on the Gulf of Manaar, is the port of departure
for Colombo, Ceylon. We had only a hurried glimpse of the city, showing
white buildings, white sand, and the blackest natives we had yet seen.
We inferred they were Tamils. A pleasant night on the steamer followed.
* * * * *
COLOMBO, _January 25th_: The morning of January 25th saw our approach to
the fine harbor of Colombo, and we felt that at last our dream of
viewing the beautiful island of Ceylon was to be realized. Our first
impression was received at the landing jetty, where it seemed as if
every nationality had its representative, so varied was the appearance
of the natives,--the Laskas from the Malay Peninsula, the Hindus from
India, as well as Tamil coolies, Arabs from Aden, Buddhist priests, and
Mohammedans. We found excitement on our arrival at the hotel, owing to
the expected appearance of the ex-Empress Eugénie and her suite, as well
as Sir Thomas Lipton and numerous other notable guests.
[Illustration: _Street scene in Colombo_]
The ride to the hotel, located on the sea, had shown us unusual
luxuriance of vegetation and wonderful trees both in fruit and in
blossom. This fact was emphasized by a long afternoon drive, beginning
in the native quarter with its attendant bazars and ending with a long
country tour for at least an hour through a forest of palms of many
varieties, the tall talipot towering high--higher even than the
fruit-laden cocoanut palm,--while bread-fruit trees, jack-fruit trees,
and bananas made a pleasing variety. A little diversion occurred when a
boy climbed a tall cocoanut palm, procuring a fine specimen, and opened
it for us to try. We passed the Victoria Bridge, which took the place of
the bridge of boats, returning to our hotel by a way that revealed still
more tropical wonders. The fine Galle Face Hotel, with its sense of
spaciousness and restful ease, the illuminated grounds, the band, and
the dash of the waves caused that first Saturday evening to seem almost
perfection; one and all felt willing to linger on indefinitely, but,
alas, the iron-clad itinerary must be met, and a week in the mountains
was to follow!
Colombo is a fine place in which to study types, and nothing is more
peculiar than the Cingalese man, with his long hair braided in a knot at
his neck, with the broad shell comb resting on his crown; on State
occasions the chief waiters at the hotel appear in an exceedingly high
head piece perched above their customary shell ornament, which they told
us was the style of a hundred years ago.
The jinrikisha man here is the first person to gain your attention; so
winning are his ways and so rapid his pace that he is justly popular for
a short spin to the very interesting shopping district, where almost
everything may be found, the jewels holding the interest of the stranger
above all else. But, alas, the pearl, Ceylon's home product, is to be
had only at fabulous prices and not then in its perfection. We had heard
of the lure of the pearl in the Gulf of Manaar (separating Ceylon from
India), and of all the fairy-tale adventures involved in the search for
it, and so we were disappointed in our failure to see perfect specimens.
The heat in Colombo was not oppressive, but, as in other places, there
are flying punkahs and electric appliances for cooling the air; then
there are fans in one's room to use at will, for these Easterners like
comfort and secure it at whatever cost, and the denizens of the West
soon fall into their ways, even adopting the English custom of four
o'clock tea. The spacious entrance hall at the Galle Face Hotel
presented an animated appearance, with beautifully gowned ladies, and
their attendants, seated around little tables sipping tea and consuming
fruit-cake and sandwiches.
* * * * *
NUWARA ELIYA: On Tuesday morning, January 28th, we left Colombo for the
north. The mountain resort of Nuwara Eliya is a great boon even to the
inhabitants of sea-swept Colombo; and it is also appreciated to its full
by the tourist who has been surfeited with the close atmosphere of
cities or grown tired of sea voyages. We had been told that the scenery
combined the wildness of Switzerland with the peculiar charm of the
Welsh mountains; hence we felt that a new experience awaited us. The
railway ride there confirmed our first impression of Ceylon's fine
growth of trees and shrubs, the road leading first through lowlands with
endless cocoanut and other palms; while of all the blossom-laden trees
the gold mohr, with its wealth of scarlet blossoms, surpasses every
other. Later, rice-fields and tea plantations alternated, the latter
even covering the sides of mountains. The scenery grew bolder as we went
along, and at the Junction we took the narrow gauge for our mountain
climb. This ascent was another triumph of engineering skill, winding
around long and bold curves.
Nuwara Eliya is located sixty-two hundred feet above the sea, but,
surrounded by mountains, the country has the appearance of being a
valley. The Grand Hotel, in bungalow style, is prettily located in well
laid-out grounds, with a fine view. In the morning we drove to Hakgalla
Botanical Garden, and on our way there we saw a striking feature in
great masses of rhododendrons. The road to the gardens through an avenue
of trees was inviting, and as we turned to the right we had a fine view
of the west peak of the Hakgalla rock; passing on up the drive, we saw a
large lake, the banks of which were lined with ornamental trees. There
is here a pleasing vista of flowering plants, tall palms, and varied
trees; we examined an immense tea plant twelve feet in diameter, a fine
clump of tree ferns, and a peculiar silver fern from New Zealand,--also
a wax palm from New Granada, the leaves of which are covered with a wax
substance from which good candles can be made; and a fernery with
twenty-six thousand plants. There is also a flower garden, a house for
the propagation of plants, and a laboratory for scientific research,
besides many other interesting features in this truly complete garden.
We visited a tea factory, and an attendant showed us the entire process
of preparation, even to the wrapping of the tea in packages. During the
afternoon we drove to Ramboda Pass, six miles distant. From the top of
the pass, six thousand feet high, there was a panoramic view of mountain
scenery with the Katinale valley below and the gray-crested Peacock
Mountain as a centrepiece. Nuwara Eliya is a famed summer resort, with
beautiful walks, tennis, cricket, and social clubs; the English Church
is finely located, with the usual well-kept close.
[Illustration: _General view of Nuwara Eliya_]
* * * * *
KANDY, _January 30th_: We left Nuwara Eliya, on the morning of January
30th, for Kandy, arriving there at 2 P.M. The train passed through a
country similar to that before described, only there was a greater
descent, Kandy having less altitude than Nuwara Eliya. We had
anticipated much of Kandy, Ceylon's ancient capital and the scene of
action in the days of the old Kandyan kings. It is said that when Adam
and Eve were banished from Paradise they repaired to Ceylon and located
at Kandy, it being the nearest approach to Paradise. A few days' stay
there sufficed to show us that the legend was partly justified.
The city is situated in a valley with stretches of mountains on either
side, a lake nestling in the centre of the place and in the midst of a
perfect wealth of trees. Nature seemed to challenge our admiration.
The afternoon drive to Peradeniya convinced us that the claim of one of
the greatest botanical gardens in the world was well founded, for here
we saw revelations in plants, shrubs, and trees, the new varieties of
palms seeming wonderful. A talipot palm was in blossom, towering high to
heaven, but we knew that its course was nearly ended, for when it
attains about half a century of vitality it droops and dies; this seems
a strange anomaly of Nature. Great groups of rubber trees (largely
exported from Ceylon) and immense groups of tall bamboo trees were also
in plenty.
Kandy, in the Eastern world, derives its greatest renown from being the
home of Buddha's tooth, and the Temple of the Tooth attracts great
crowds of pilgrims of the Buddhist faith from many lands. It is said to
have been brought here in the sixteenth century, and the small temple in
which it was then placed has been enlarged and made a shrine where
costly gifts are laid by devotees from China, Japan, the Malay
Peninsula, Siam, and other remote points. Buddhism claims the larger
portion of Ceylon's subjects, having in comparison with Hinduism a small
following in India, where it originated. The tooth is said to be the
left eye-tooth of Prince Siddhartha, taken from his ashes twenty-five
centuries ago, but it is believed that the original tooth was burned by
the Catholic Archbishop of Goa, Portugal, in 1650, and a spurious one
substituted. However, it is worshipped as the real one, and the morning
following our arrival, we attended the 9.30 service at the temple, where
a crowd was in attendance, seemingly enjoying the hideous music of the
tom-toms and instruments of a similar Oriental character. The tooth is
not shown except on rare occasions, but through a glass door we saw its
jewelled casket and the table on which it rests.
[Illustration: _General view of Kandy_]
There were many offerings before this relic and before other images of
Buddha which are to be found presiding over all temples. Much
superstition was evident, but the sacrifices and practices that are to
be seen in the Hindu temples are here wanting. It is a sad reflection,
however, that Buddha's noble teachings could not have borne better
fruit.
The library of the temple held many richly bound Buddhist books, written
on leaves made from the talipot palm. The leaves bound together are long
and narrow, and are held in place between heavy covers. The priests, as
in Burma, wear a yellow silk robe draped like a Roman toga. They are
seen everywhere, going about in the early morning with a begging bowl;
they are ever courteous and apparently well bred. Cremation is
practised, as with the Hindus, but the rites preceding it are far more
imposing and cover days of peculiar ceremonies, while the Hindus
practise almost immediate cremation. A visit to the Government art
school and museum followed, and then a beautiful mountain drive where
hill and valley alternated; the views were past description.
In the afternoon we were permitted the courtesy of a visit to the
Governor's residence, the family being absent. The grounds were large
and well laid out; the rooms spacious and furnished with a view to
comfort and to meet the requirements of the climate. We were interested
in learning that the ex-Empress Eugénie and her suite were about to
arrive to take up their residence for a time. A so-termed Lady Blake's
drive followed. This was also largely a mountain ride with more fine
views; but we surpassed ourselves on the following day in the tour we
took, and our adjectives were soon exhausted; so it is natural that we
should vote Ceylon the finest land we had thus far visited.
Sunday was passed quietly; we attended a 6 A.M. service in the English
Church, and saw a number of natives in attendance, ladies appearing in
low dresses and with uncovered heads. They were richly clad; so it was
evidently the custom, even though to us it seemed peculiar.
[Illustration: _Entrance to the Botanical Gardens, Kandy_]
[Illustration: _Temple of the Sacred Tooth in Kandy_]
* * * * *
ANURADHAPURA: Monday, February 3d, we left Kandy to visit
Anuradhapura.
Before proceeding, it seems desirable to introduce an historical
digression. The history of Ceylon is shrouded in mystery, but, from
chronicles compiled by the early monks, a real foundation or beginning
has been determined upon, proving that the Cingalese under Wigeyo
invaded Ceylon in 543 B.C. and conquered the aborigines of the soil. It
is deemed probable that they came from neighboring continents, and that
their descendants possessed character and determination; that they were
builders is shown by the erection of splendid edifices at an early date,
and after the arrival of the royal Buddhist missionary, Mahindo (son of
an Indian king), 306 B.C., fine dagobas and monasteries were added, each
successive ruler seeming ambitious to excel his predecessor.
Anuradhapura was the first capital, but owing to many vicissitudes and
several invasions of the Malabars of Southern India, the capital was
moved many times, Kandy being the sixth; it preceded Cotta, near
Colombo, the latter being the present capital. In 1532, on the landing
of the Portuguese at Colombo, the last blow was struck, and soon the
great cities of the Empire were deserted and left in the hands of
foreigners. The best dagobas were crumbling, immense tanks broken, and
general devastation succeeded where splendor
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