contemplate, but the extermination of snakes is attended with grave
difficulties—from their great number, the character of the country,
the rapid undergrowth of the jungle; and, above all, the scruples of
the majority of the people, whom caste prevents from destroying life.
Something, however, has been effected by the offer of rewards. In
1877 a total of 16,777 persons are reported as having died from
snake-bites, while £811 was paid for the destruction of 127,295 snakes!
The last census of the Indian Empire shows a population of
252,451,210, and this may be accepted as a minimum, owing to the great
difficulty existing in obtaining exact returns. Many of the natives
evince a great reluctance at giving the true number of their family.
The density of the population may be appreciated when a comparison
is drawn from the following figures:—France has 180 people to the
square mile, England 200, whilst in Bengal the population reaches the
enormous number of 1280 persons to each cultivated square mile. The
Famine Commissioners in 1880 reported that over six millions of the
peasant holdings of Bengal—or two-thirds of the whole—averaged from
two to three acres a-piece. Allowing for women and children, this
represents a population of about 24,000,000 struggling to live off
15,000,000 acres—or just half-an-acre a-piece.
Unlike other countries, India has few large towns, and no
manufacturing centres. In England, for instance, 42 per cent.—or
nearly one half of the population—live in towns, with upwards of
20,000 inhabitants; whilst in India barely 4 per cent.—or not a
twentieth of the people—live in towns. India is entirely a rural
country.
We see, therefore, in India, a dense population of farmers. Wherever
their number exceeds one to the acre—or 640 to the square mile—the
struggle for existence becomes a hard task; at half-an-acre a-piece
(and it is often so), that struggle is very hard indeed. When a
crop fails the Government has a bad time of it to feed the starving
millions. Disease and death in such periods, amongst underfed people,
is simply horrible.
The opening up of lines of railway throughout this vast empire,
now enables the Governments to alleviate the dreadful effects of
over-population, and relieve the distress. Still, the fact remains
that since the establishment of British rule in India the population
has increased materially. The census of 1872 shows an increase of
240,000; the production of the soil being stationary, the future
becomes problematical.
[Illustration]
V.
_SANCTIMONIOUS._
The foregoing pages are, I am afraid, rather dry and tiresome, but
still, one cannot travel through a country like India with one’s eyes
and ears closed; and when it is taken into consideration that we are
accustomed to look upon the Indian population with contempt—entirely
losing sight of the undeniable fact that when the Gaul and the Saxon
were savages, clad in sheep and goat-skins, the Brahmins of India were
almost as highly advanced in civilisation as the French and English
of the present day—it is natural that in travelling through such a
country one should spend a few hours, at least, in studying with
interest a people whose history is traceable far beyond the Christian
era. W. W. Hunter, in his admirable work on India, traces its history
back 3000 years. Vedic temples have been found, showing an advanced
state of civilisation several centuries before Christ.
A collection of short lyrical poems, containing 10,580 verses,
addressed to the gods, are still in existence.
These people, whom we now treat with contempt, are direct descendants
from a nation whose faith, after all, is not so very dissimilar from
our own.
Three thousand years have elapsed since the production of some of
these poems or hymns. Religion, like many other matters, may have
changed somewhat since then, yet words remain such as these:—“_Neither
gods nor men reach unto thee, O Indra; Soma is King of Heaven and
earth, the conqueror of all._” To Varuna, also, it is said in
prayer:—“_Thou art Lord of all, of heaven and earth; thou art the King
of all those who are gods, and of all who are men._” This evidently
shows that they worshipped one god, although not one alone.
Not very far, after all, from the Creed we are so proud of in the year
of our Lord, 1889.
At the rate we are daily modifying and twisting it about, I doubt much
if in three thousand years from this we shall have as much of the
original as the poor Hindus now have of theirs.
I have just come across another Vedic hymn, which I think I should
record before leaving a subject which I hand over to my readers to
ponder upon at their leisure.
It is a translation from the Sanskrit text by Professor Max Müller,
and is in the public libraries in India:—
“In the beginning there arose a Golden Child. He was the one born Lord
of all that is; he established the earth and the sky. Who is the God
to whom we shall offer our sacrifice?
“He who gives life; he who gives strength; whose command all the
bright gods revere; whose shadow is immortality; whose shadow is
death. Who is the God to whom we shall offer our sacrifice?
“He who through his power is the one King of the breaking and
awakening world; he who governs all—man and beast. Who is the God to
whom we shall offer our sacrifice?
“He through whom the sky is bright and the earth is firm; he through
whom the heaven was established—nay, the highest heaven; he who
measured out the light and the air. Who is the God to whom we shall
offer our sacrifice?
“He who by his height looked even over the water-clouds; he who alone
is God above all gods. Who is the God to whom we shall offer our
sacrifice?
“The yearning for rest is God; that desire for the wings of a dove, so
as to fly away and be at rest, with which noble hearts have ached in
all ages.
“Where there is eternal light in the world, where the sun is placed;
in the immortal, imperishable world, place me, O Soma!
“Where life is free, in the third heaven of heavens; where the
worlds are radiant, there make me immortal! Where there is happiness
and delight, where joy and pleasure reside, where our desires are
attained—there make me immortal!”
Is there in the whole of our Christian Creed a more simple, more
beautifully expressed prayer to the Almighty power?
This hymn, as I said before, was the common prayer of a people 3000
years ago.
The Vedic conception of immortality is not less beautiful in its
simplicity:—
“Do thou conduct us to heaven, where our friends dwell in bliss,
having left on earth the infirmities of the body—free from lameness,
free from blindness, free from crookedness of body—there let
us behold our fathers, forefathers, and our children. May the
water-shedding spirits bear us upwards, cooling us with their swift
motion through the air, and sprinkling us with dew. Bear us, carry
us, with all our faculties complete, to the world of the righteous.
Crossing the dark valley which spreadeth boundless around him, let the
unborn soul ascend to heaven. Wash the feet of him who is stained with
sin; let him go upwards with cleansed feet. Crossing the gloom, gazing
with wonder in many directions, let the unborn soul go up to heaven.”
From the Vedas has arisen the great sacred Brahmin caste, which even
now ranks highest throughout India. It is regarded as pure, stainless,
divine, as well as human, worthy of unbounded admiration and worship.
The Brahmin is the general preceptor, the guide of many millions of
Hindus, residing in the vast country lying between the Himalayas and
Cape Comarin.
The Brahmin is not merely the thinking, but he alone is the reading,
man. He possesses and reads the holy books—Vedas, Shastras, and
Puranas—he knows the Sanskrit and the Hindu literature—he interprets
its secrets to his countrymen.
Of course the Brahminical tribes are now numerous all through India,
and education is fast stripping them of their divine assumptions, and
reducing them gradually to the condition of ordinary humanity. Still,
as they become imbued with our modern ideas and bend to European
influence, the Brahmins adhere to their studious habits. They find
their way to the “professions,” which are gradually introduced into
the Indian empire.
One of the best pleaders in the courts of Calcutta, my friend
Jokonanda Mookerjea, is a Brahmin of the highest caste, but like many
of his ancient tribe, he has of late years forfeited the good opinion
of his people, owing to his having modified somewhat, or rather
relaxed, the strict rules of that caste.
One who has not had much communion with Indians can hardly conceive
how strictly, even after a century of close contact with Europeans,
the natives keep in its integrity the observance of the caste law. A
case is on record of a Brahmin felon, confined in the Calcutta gaol
in 1864, who tried to starve himself to death, and submitted to most
severe flogging rather than eat food, on account of his scruples as to
whether the man who had cooked it was equal in _sanctity_ to his own
caste.
Trades of all kinds are classified according to caste. The goldsmiths
rank highest, and claim to be the nearest to the Brahmins; the Dattas,
or writers, come next; then follow the bankers, merchants, &c., &c.,
down to the very lowest grade of menial work—barber, man-servant,
cook, cook’s mate, sweeper, and, last of all, meter and dome—this last
is the only one which will remove the dead, whether man or beast.
If an animal—even a cat, dog, or rat—lies dead on your premises, not
one of the scores of servants employed will remove its carcase. A dome
has to be sought ere the nuisance can be abated. The meter is the only
one who will empty the slops.
The rules and regulations of caste are thoroughly well arranged, and
strictly adhered to. Each caste has its guild, guild funds, charities.
Indeed, in this, like in many others, “_we_,” the conceited civilisers
of the world, are following in the footsteps of the most ancient
people of the earth.
I fail to see much difference between our trades and labour unions and
the “caste” of India, where one man is not allowed to do any other
work than that of his “_caste_.” Hence the unavoidable nuisance of
even the humblest paid European having to employ a dozen servants.
The cook is not allowed to wash a plate or carry the meal into the
parlour; the kitmugar will bring your boots to your dressing room,
but his “caste” forbids him to clean them. The native clerk will copy
and address a letter, but he will hand it over to the “Péon,” who
alone can carry it to its destination. The “Dobbee” will wash your
clothes, but you must employ a water carrier to fetch the water used
in the laundry. This very interesting trade and labour union, like the
“Vedic” creed, dates from an almost “pre-Adamite” period.
The longer I live, the firmer I believe that there is nothing new
under the sun, and that from the beginning of the world it has been
the lot of humanity to “prey” on one another. My firm belief is that
as it was in the beginning it is now, and ever shall be, to the end of
the chapter.
A while ago I put down my pen, thinking that I had allowed it to run
too freely into very uninteresting matters. I find that the last
few pages are almost as much so. Still, some of my readers may feel
interested in such. Those who do not have a very easy remedy—“skip”
them. “_Scripta manent_,” they are written; let them remain.
[Illustration]
VI.
_THE CALCUTTA EXHIBITION._
Whilst in Calcutta—being there for the sole object of initiating an
International Exhibition, it became urgent to disseminate amongst the
native population the purpose of such a venture.
H.E. the Viceroy (Lord Ripon) and the Governor of Bengal, Mr. (now
Sir Rivers) Thompson, were very doubtful as to the success of this
Exhibition, owing to the prejudices of the Indian population, and
the erroneous impression they would have of a thing quite beyond
their comprehension, and, moreover, in direct contravention with
their ultra-conservative ideas. They feared that the strict zenana
laws would not permit the female portion of the people to visit my
Exhibition.
Whilst fully appreciating the validity of such serious obstacles,
I did not quite give up hopes of overcoming them. As a rule I do
not object to a few “balks”—I think that life is a kind of hurdle
race—mine has been so all through. I was not born to enter into a flat
one. I certainly do think that difficulties give a zest to and enhance
the value of the result of one’s undertakings.
In this instance I made up my mind to at once face the opposition.
I sought and readily obtained introductions to the principal native
notabilities of Calcutta.
Maharajah Sir Jotindra Tagore, Bart.; Maharajah Bahadur of Cooch
Behar, Rajah Krishna, Rajah Rajendra Mullick, Prince Mahomed, Furruck
Shah, the Maharajah of Paikpara; and, above all, my worthy friend the
late Kristodas Pal (the able and learned editor of the _Patriot_),
Nawab Abdool Luteef, and last, though not least, my doctor—Kanny Lall
Dey—were my friends and helpmates, as far as the Hindu portion was
concerned. Amongst the Parsees my task was much easier. They are, of
course, more easily approached; they live more like ourselves. But
even with them I had the good fortune to meet an able coadjutor, Mr.
Mettra, who did not wait for a call, but of his own accord came to me
a few days after my arrival in Calcutta, and proffered a friendship
which I hope will last a lifetime.
A meeting was called by the Chairman of the Anglo-Indian Club. A
large number of the leading natives of Calcutta and the surrounding
country responded. The objects of the Exhibition were fully explained
to the meeting; a number of questions asked. A unanimous resolution
was adopted that every assistance should be given to me to carry out
my venture, and immediate steps taken to disseminate through even
the most remote parts of the empire the objects of the International
Exhibition.
The enthusiasm of the gentlemen present can best be realised when I
say that one of the native maharajahs tendered to me a cheque for a
lac of rupees (£10,000) in case I should be short of funds. At the
instigation of the meeting I consented to deliver some lectures at the
Hindu and Mahomedan colleges. These lectures were translated into
the various dialects of India and circulated broadcast throughout
the country. This, and the assistance of the English as well as the
native Press, created sufficient excitement amongst the people to
cause a large influx at the opening. In a few weeks after that day
small numbers of Indians came to see and report. Ere the first month
was ended the curiosity began to spread far and wide, until at last
the avenues leading to the Exhibition, and the Exhibition itself, were
thronged with visitors eager to see the “Barra Bazaar.”
In order, if possible, to break through the impenetrable barrier of
the zenana, the Sunday afternoon was set aside for the admission of
“_females_.” All male attendants were removed, close screens erected
round the entrance gates, and invitations issued to the leading
natives in the city. Several thousands responded. The number nearly
doubled on the second Sunday, after which I intimated that MY caste
precluded Sabbath-breaking, so that in future, if “ladies” wished to
see the Exhibition, they must come on week days with the men.
Although native women are not “_visible_,” they visit one another
in the “zenanas,” and like all belonging to the fair sex, “TALK!”
Those who had seen the Exhibition gave an amplified description of
its wonders to their friends. _Curiosity_ is a weakness of the sex,
let the colour be what it will. In India, as it is elsewhere, women
have a will of their own. They very soon persuaded their lords and
masters that a thick muslin cloud might be used to hide their charms
from the public gaze, without preventing them seeing the “show.” The
end was that the sexes mixed in equal numbers. The revolution was
complete. The women of India had conquered their liberty, and, as Lord
Ripon publicly stated, I may claim to be their liberator. Wherever I
visited native gentlemen, I was always asked to sit in the centre of
the drawing-room, in order that the invisible ladies of the household
might, through “peep holes,” have a look at the man to whom they owed
their view of the Barra Bazaar.
In some instances native Princes purchased at a high figure the sole
right of the Exhibition for a few hours, so that their wives or
mothers might have a quiet, undisturbed ramble through it. So great
came the demand for such a favour that in some instances their visits
took place in the night, after the closing, and extended until near
daylight.
As might be expected amongst people of high refinement—as most
undeniably the upper class of Indians are—such small acts of courtesy
on my part had a great influence. One and all of our distinguished
visitors expressed their grateful thanks personally, and expressed a
wish that I should, at the close of my labours in Calcutta, visit them
in their respective provinces.
[Illustration]
VII.
_A TRAMP THROUGH INDIA._
Being delayed at the close of the Exhibition in settling accounts with
the Government, facilities were given us to visit the interior of the
country. A train was placed at our disposal, with instructions sent to
the various lines to take it wherever we wished to go. Our farewell
from Calcutta was such as to leave an ever-lasting impression. The
kindness and hospitality of the many friends we made during our stay
in that great city will never be forgotten.
Our first stop was at the great sacred city of Benares, passing
through Burdwan and Khana, in the province of Moorshedabad,
Luckeeserai and Putna, reaching Dinapure at daylight next morning.
This first night spent in a sleeping car, being a novelty, was not
quite as productive of rest as might have been expected, although
every comfort had been provided for us: the narrow bunks, the jolting,
and last, though not least, the want of the _punkah_, which we had
become used to in Calcutta, kept us awake part of the time, and in
order to wile away the hours, we improvised sundry meals—supper, tea
and coffee, and early breakfast—which, however, did not in any way
prevent us doing complete justice to that which awaited us at Dinapure.
Here we availed ourselves of the privilege granted to stop whenever
we chose, and after breakfast went for a stroll through the Bazaar,
and to see the junction of the various branches of the mighty Ganges.
Here the Tone, and a short distance further the Gogra join the main
stream, fertilising the plains, which, even under the most primitive
mode of tillage, yield enormous quantities of wheat, which we saw in
huge piles in the open market, _retailed_ at one rupee a bushel.
What these plains could produce in the hands of skilled husbandmen
would feed the world.
When the great railway extension scheme now under consideration by
the Government of India is carried out, the wheat production of the
central provinces of India will materially affect the price of bread
stuffs throughout the world.
Indian natives have an excellent memory for faces. We had not been
many minutes in the Dinapure Bazaar before we were recognised as the
“Exhibition Wallahs,” and treated accordingly. Indeed, throughout the
whole of our trip, we met with similar treatment, which doubtless had
a great influence in the good feeling we all have, and shall ever
cherish, of India and the Indians.
Another train being due at 11 a.m., we caused our “caravan” to be
hooked on, and proceeded to Moghal-Serai, the nearest station to the
sacred city.
Here dwell the celebrated artistic “potters” of Central India. From
Moghal-Serai come all the black, black and silver jars, figures, and
ornaments which one sees all through India. Ornaments highly valued
in Europe can here be purchased for a few “pice” (farthings). I need
not say that we nearly filled a waggon with some of these specimens
of Indian pottery, which, however, did not lumber us long. If they
are pretty, and even artistic in design, they fail in the baking.
The first jolting of the train materially decreased our collection.
The few pieces we have brought out safe were those which were packed
in our valises, carefully wrapped with soft materials. The fragility
easily accounts for the increased value this ware acquires at a
distance from the place whence it comes.
Having left our goods and chattels and servants in the train, we drove
to the river side, and were ferried across the Ganges—Benares being
situated on the west bank, the native town skirts the sacred river.
The Burna flows into the Ganges, just north of the Raj Ghât, and flows
between the civil station and the cantonments.
Benares is the first city of the north-western provinces, and is well
known as the stronghold of Hindooism. It covers an area of 3141 acres,
with a population of 500,000, and stands about 270 feet above the sea
level.
The trade and manufactures are principally silks, shawls, cloth,
embroideries in gold and silver thread, gold filigree work, and, above
all, chased brass work. The wealth of Benares, however, mainly depends
upon the constant influx of rich pilgrims, whose presence lends the
same impetus to the local trade as that given to European watering
places by the season visitors.
Many of these pilgrims are rajahs, or other persons of importance,
who bring considerable retinues, and become large benefactors to
the various shrines or temples. Hindu princes pride themselves
upon keeping up a “town residence in Holi-Kasi.” But besides the
wealth which thus flows passively into the bazaars of Benares, a
considerable trade is carried on by the merchants and bankers. The
sugar, indigo, and saltpetre of the district finds a market in the
city. The trans-Gagra products of Gorakhpur and Basti, and the raw
materials of Jaunpur, form large items in the through traffic of
Benares. Manchester goods are imported in considerable quantities and
distributed to the neighbouring local centres.
Wheat, barley, pulse of various kinds, maize, oil seeds, most of the
esculent vegetables of Europe, rice, and hemp are amongst the staple
products of the soil; but the most important article is the sugar
cane. Benares surpasses every other part of India in the abundance and
excellence of quality of sugar produced.
We made our way straight for Clark’s Hotel, where our old friend the
Maharajah of Benares had secured quarters for us. The Residence of
His Highness is some distance from the hotel, and the old gentleman,
after making every apology for having located us here, said that after
dinner he would come and fetch us to attend a “nautch” at the palace;
but that he feared we could not be made as comfortable with him as we
would at an hotel kept by Europeans.
We found, however, that the Maharajah had given orders on a lavish
and royal scale. In fact, the whole of the hotel was “ours”—the other
residents were to be “our guests.” The meals were of such a profuse
kind, the wines of so varied a description, that we felt almost
over-powered. When we attempted remonstrance the landlord said, “It is
the wish of the Maharajah that it be so, and I dare not disobey His
Highness’s orders.”
At about eight o’clock carriages drove up to the door, and we were
taken straight to the palace at Ramnaggar. This—the fort, garden
house, and temple of the Maharajah—are well worthy of a visit. The
temple is a huge building one hundred feet high, the greater part of
which was built by Rajah Chait-Singh, but completed by the present
Maharajah. The whole edifice is remarkable for its execution,
specially as regards the sculpture.
The garden house is also about a mile from the fort. A magnificent
tank is attached to it. It is a square, having a temple at each
corner. A handsome “ghât” surrounds it, where hundreds of pilgrims can
bathe and dress comfortably.
Ramnaggar is one of the five celebrated places of pilgrimage in
Benares. Hindus dying there are sure to enter the abodes of the
blessed without their souls undergoing transmigration, which, in their
idea, is a far worse fate than the eternal cremation we have such a
wholesome dread of.