attention—the carpet manufactories and a few temples and palaces—but
after Benares the latter had little or no further attractions. The
patient and accurate working of the carpet-makers is well worthy of
mention, more particularly the work done by prisoners in the Agra
jail, where the choicest and most elaborate carpets are made. The loom
stands on a perpendicular frame, with two men on either side, and the
pattern lays on the floor; the wool, silk, or cotton material, as
the case may be, is passed from one side to the other, and “clipped”
when properly fixed. These carpets are, of course, reversible. Four
men, working twelve hours, are reckoned good hands if they can finish
satisfactorily five inches square a-day; but as the job is generally
given to men who have long sentences to serve, time is no object. At
Allahabad the same carpets are made by machinery, but they cannot
compare either for durability, finish, or even beauty, with those made
in the Agra penitentiaries.
Agra was the only place where we were left to our own devices. Our
friend, Dr. Tyler, had been summoned to Simla on official business; we
therefore had to fight our way as we best could.
X.
_PRINCELY HOSPITALITY._
On the third day after our arrival our movements had been made known
in the neighbourhood. A telegram came from Dholpore, sent by Colonel
Deniehy, the Resident, who, on behalf of the Maharajah, wished us to
make a stay at His Highness’s palace.
Having no further reason to prolong our stay at Agra, we “hooked on”
to the train, and in three hours reached the Dholpore station, where
the genial face of Colonel Deniehy greeted our landing in the young
prince’s dominions.
Carriages, and an escort of mounted troopers, commanded by the
prince’s staff officer, Goby Singh (one of the handsomest Indian
officers we had met in our travels), led us to the palace!
Here the Maharajah gave us the heartiest welcome. He expressed his
regret that the laws and customs of his country precluded him from
admitting us to the interior of his “house,” but the ladies would be
welcomed by the Rani (his mother), or the Maharani (his wife); whilst
we of the sterner sex would be entertained by his good friend Colonel
Deniehy in the part of the palace which had been specially prepared
for us.
After this kind speech the young prince led the way to the
dining-room, where a sumptuous repast had been prepared, but, as
usual, our host sat as a looker-on only. After tiffin we visited
our apartments, which showed the minutious solicitude of our
hospitable entertainer. Every luxury had been provided for us—even a
billiard-room.
So that we might not find the hours hang heavily on our hands, books,
albums, and periodicals were in abundance on all the tables. At my
bedside a few of the latest French novels were placed—new, but with
leaves already cut, so that even this trouble might be spared!
I cannot convey a better idea of the strange but thorough hospitality
of these people than to mention that whilst chatting with the
Maharajah in the drawing-room, a fly came buzzing round my head, and
I naturally chased it away once or twice with my hand. At a sign from
the prince a servant crept noiselessly behind me, with a short cane,
furnished with a round leather flap at the end of it. I discovered
that this fellow’s duty was to keep off the flies—a duty he performed
with extraordinary talent.
A “council” was held, and a plan drawn of excursions, hunting, and
sight-seeing. Some of these, of course, only “the boys” and myself
could attend; whilst later in the afternoons, when the sun’s rays
were less intense, the ladies could join. It was during one of
these afternoon drives that we witnessed one of the most impressive
ceremonies of Indian customs—the cremation of the dead.
We had seen a good deal of cremation in Calcutta, where it is done
in a special building, and where, at times, as many as half-a-dozen
or more bodies are reduced to ashes in a few hours; but the
matter-of-fact method adopted at the Calcutta cremating place are most
repulsive.
In this instance the surroundings were most appropriate. We had left
the carriages in a grove close by; the sun was about setting; Goby
Singh, who accompanied us, had taken us out in a boat to drift with
the current on the Chambal (a fine river, which pours its contingent
into the Jumna near Calpi); the evening was calm, and the banks of
the river studded with magnificent foliage. As our boat, drifting
with the current, rounded a headland, we noticed a small procession
of men coming down the bank of the river carrying a litter covered
with flowers. We dropped a small kedge and watched the sequel. Close
to the water’s edge a pile of sandalwood had been prepared. Here
the procession stopped, the litter—upon which lay the dead body—was
carefully laid on tressles. Four of the party then led the nearest
relative of the deceased person to the river, where he was bathed,
anointed with perfumes, dressed in new white garments, and prepared
for the sacrifice. During that time oil and perfumes, as well as
flowers, had been placed on the pile of wood, the body of the dead
placed reverently on the top, and actually covered with flowers. The
chief mourner (being the next of kin) slowly approached the place.
All those present knelt, with their heads touching the ground, whilst
the chief mourner, with a lighted torch, set fire to the pyre at each
corner, then at each centre. In an instant the flames encircled the
body, and the mourners retired a short distance to recite the prayers
for the dead.
The sun had sunk below the horizon—a soft twilight alone remained.
The glassy surface of the water reflected most accurately every line
of this sad ceremony—the flames, the smoke, the very figures of the
mourners in their picturesque Eastern garments, being repeated on
the water as in a mirror. The perfect stillness of everything around
rendered the scene most impressive and touching. My ideas of cremation
in this way were materially altered. Shocking as it seems to see human
remains burnt in the ghât at Calcutta, cremation done in the open air,
as we saw it on the banks of the Chambal, has a very different effect
on one’s nerves. It would almost reconcile one with the notion of this
fiery ordeal; and I must say that if I could ensure a similar end, I
would feel very much inclined to add a codicil to my will, asking my
heirs, executors, and assigns to adopt that plan of disposing of my
remains.
The sight, however, had a depressing effect on our spirits that night,
which did not escape the keen eye of our host. He made up his mind
to dispel it, and accordingly, after dinner, improvised a musical
entertainment, in which he himself took a leading part. Sitting at
a magnificent grand piano, of exquisite tone and make, he played
selections from all the best operas; sang French, Italian, German, and
English music; and concluded by a serenade on the cornet, which he
held in one hand while he accompanied on the piano with the other. At
the conclusion he swerved quickly round on the piano-stool, saying—
“What do you think of that for a Nigger?”
Musical talent, however—besides a thorough knowledge of languages—are
the least of the accomplishments of this young prince, who is barely
out of his “teens.” Under the able tuition and guardianship of
Colonel Deniehy the Maharajah of Dholpore has become a first-rate
soldier, an able politician, and a thorough sportsman. His feats of
horsemanship on bare-backed Arab horses would rank far above the best
performances at Astley’s or Franconi’s.
Yet, strange to say, like all his countrymen, Dholpore has never been
out of India—indeed, very seldom crossed the boundaries of his kingdom.
It was with sincere regret that we had to end our stay at Dholpore;
but our time was limited. Indeed, we were due at Bombay, and had
several other invitations on the road, whilst, on the other hand,
the season was getting on, when I did not think it wise to keep my
people in the part of India where fever and ague was prevalent. After
a most affectionate leave-taking from the Maharajah, Col. Deniehy,
Goby Singh, and the other charming officers of the prince’s household,
we steamed on the iron horse to Delhi, where we were not allowed to
stay then, being met in that city by our good friend Sri-Ram, the able
Prime Minister of the Maharajah of Ulwur, who was watching for our
arrival, with orders to take us straight on to the house which had
been prepared for us.
[Illustration]
XI.
_INDIAN SPORTS._
The present territory of the Ulwur State is 3024 square miles in
extent, and contains a population of 800,000. These are all what are
known in India as Rajputs, a warlike tribe, of handsome physique,
great power of endurance, and a remarkably intelligent race.
The city of Ulwur is in the very centre of the State. That city,
as well as the whole State, have, under the able management of the
present Maharajah, assisted by his Council, but, above all, by the
great wisdom and statesmanship of Sri-Ram, assumed a degree of
refinement and systematic government which might most advantageously
be taken as an example by other Indian Principalities.
Like his friend and neighbour Dholpore, the Maharajah of Ulwur is a
young gentleman of barely twenty-two years, and although his education
has not had the highly-refined European touch which Colonel Deniehy
has imparted to Dholpore—having been from his cradle under Sri-Ram’s
tutorship—he is far, far above the average of other native princes.
Like his ancestors, he is a thorough Rajput in his looks, his military
bearing, and warlike propensities. Besides his stud, his hunting gear,
and other manly sports, his chief pastime is drilling his troops and
keeping up his army in a thoroughly efficient condition. Indeed, his
cadet corps, consisting of several hundred boys, ranging from nine
to fourteen, would not discredit any part of the world; and last,
though not least, the Maharajah’s band, all native musicians, under
the leadership of a German bandmaster, is, next to that of the Nizam
of Hyderabad’s, the best I have heard in India, not even excepting the
British regimental bands in Calcutta.
Knowing the sporting proclivities of Ulwur, we had not wasted much
of our valuable time in the “field” elsewhere, and after some
consultation with the Maharajah, drew up a programme of sports. The
first on the list was one which now has become a thing of the past
in Europe, viz., hawking. Here, however, birds are kept specially
for this kind of amusement, and they are so admirably trained that
one can spend hours watching the wonderful control the master has
over his birds. The next chase on the feathery tribe, and a most
extraordinary pastime of our host, is bird-catching with lynxes. The
lynx, as everyone knows, is a half-link between the cat and the tiger,
a most active quadruped, more especially when trained for the sport
now witnessed here. The lynx is brought out tied to a small chain.
The birds are kept in a box, with a spring trap. Pigeons are usually
resorted to. The keeper loosens the collar of the lynx, but holds him,
whilst the bird is thrown up in the air. Treacherous though he be by
nature, the lynx never attempts to take an undue advantage of its
prey. It allows a fair start, and seldom, if ever, tries to catch it
before it is fairly on the wing, from twelve to sixteen feet from the
ground. One bound, and the bird is caught. We witnessed the operation
more than a hundred times, out of which the lynx did not miss its aim
more than once in twenty.
The Maharajah’s great love for horseflesh naturally leads him to pay
special care to his stud—Arabs, English, Pegu; indeed, every known
breed is well and largely represented. The stables, which completely
outshine even Her Majesty’s at Windsor Castle, are alone worthy of
a trip to Ulwur. White marble loose boxes, with marble mangers and
troughs, marble slabs over the doors, with gold inscriptions of
name and pedigree, may perhaps convey some idea of the care that is
taken of this valuable and extensive stud. Every horse has its own
attendants, who live, eat, and sleep with the animal, whose instinct
and intellect is so well under control that it obeys every word, every
sign of its keeper. But, above all, the most remarkable feature is how
thoroughly all these beautiful creatures know “the master.” By the
bye, it may be worth mentioning here, that a whim of the Maharajah
was to ride up to the top of his palace, where the zenana dwells. In
order to be able to do so, the main staircase of the palace has been
removed, and an inclined plane substituted, so that when His Highness
goes “home,” instead of dismounting at the gate of the palace, he
gallops up to the very door of the harem, where the groom in waiting
takes charge of his horse, and leads it to the stables, until summoned
by his master to lead it up again.
As might naturally be inferred, His Highness is a good whip, and
his love for the horse extends to a great proclivity for driving.
Indeed, so great is that fancy in him, that he possesses more, and a
greater variety of, carriages than anyone I ever came across. It would
fill a volume to give a lucid enumeration of the various vehicles
I saw at Ulwur. From the bullock-gharry to the mail coach, all the
newest, as well as the most old-fashioned two, three, or four-wheeled
conveyances, can be seen in the various and immense buildings in which
they are kept. The Maharajah is not satisfied with the gigs, buggies,
landaus, Victorias, barouches, brakes of the outer world; he has
taxed his own ingenuity to create novel means of travelling, which
are certainly quaint in their way, though very acceptable in case of
need. Amongst them I shall confine myself to the “zenana” carriage,
which, in reality, is a roomy house, on enormous wheels, much wider
and higher than a Pullman railway car, but also much more roomy and
comfortable. This ponderous “trap” is drawn by a team of four, six,
or eight elephants, according to the Maharajah’s whim. When he has
to drive through the city an order has to be issued to close all the
shops and stop all traffic. The machine quite fills the streets from
side to side.
The other contrivance is more of an amphibious kind. It is a most
elegant steam launch, built of polished mahogany, and most gorgeously
fitted up. It rests on a cradle provided with four wheels. When
bent on a fishing excursion, or inclined for a trip on one of the
rivers—which are some distance from the city—His Highness and suite
get into the cabin of this lovely yacht, ten or twelve powerful horses
or a couple of elephants are yoked to it, and the boat is driven
_into_ the water until it floats off its cradle.
This craze for out-of-the-way modes of locomotion would be incomplete
if I failed to state that during the Calcutta Exhibition one of the
native princes, to whom the representative of Messrs. Fowler and Co.
showed a traction road engine, was so struck with it that he at once
purchased it, and now uses it occasionally as a steam carriage in his
palace grounds.
We had been promised a deer-hunt, and accordingly had to take an early
breakfast next morning in order to reach the prairie in which these
pretty creatures graze at daybreak, in the cool of the morning. When
we came out of the bungalow we found what appeared like a monster
circus troupe. In front of our verandah were carriages, horses,
camels, elephants, bullock gharries, all harnessed or saddled, and in
charge of some fifty or more attendants, all clad in the Maharajah’s
livery. A note from His Highness explained that, being in doubt as to
what mode of conveyance the ladies would prefer, he begged to send a
“choice” for them to select from; but considering the distance we had
to go, he would strongly recommend saddle horses, camels, or, better
still, elephants.
For the sake of novelty some of the boys mounted the camels. I joined
the ladies, and the drivers, having made the elephants kneel, placed
ladders on their flanks. We thus got into the “howdah,” a most
gorgeously-ornamented apartment, built so as to be securely fixed
on the huge animal’s back. When we had taken our seats, the driver
(who sits on the neck of the animal, using the back of its ears as
stirrups) gave a peculiar cry, at which “Jumbo” gave a lurch which
brought up his fore-paws to the ground, naturally throwing the howdah
and its contents, at an incline of 45 degrees, towards the elephant’s
tail. Before we could exactly realise the position, another “Dutt!”
from our dusky driver caused the unwieldy brute to perform with his
hind legs the same acrobatic trick he had just accomplished in front.
The jerk was more powerful than pleasant, but we had now assumed for
the time being a horizontal seat, and—though it was 16 or 18 feet from
the ground, we felt pretty safe and comfortable. The jog-trot of the
elephant is not unpleasant. We certainly had a marked advantage in
point of comfort over the members of our party who had selected camels.
The jungle we traversed was very dense—in some instances really grand.
Although thickly populated with tigers, leopards, and other small
vermin, we did not see or hear any. At last the timber grew thinner,
and we reached a large open plain, to leeward of which we halted.
A number of huntsmen had been sent the day before to scour the
neighbourhood, and drive the deer gradually to this prairie, where
they soon came, feeding and playing about, quite unconscious of
impending danger.
At the space where we had halted we found awaiting our arrival the
hunters with the cheetah chained on a small hand-cart, apparently
asleep; a leather mask was fastened round the brute’s head, entirely
covering its eyes.
When the herd of deer was quietly settled in the centre of the plain
before us, two or three of the hunters crept cautiously through the
herbage until quite near the game, when one held his hand above the
grass; this being a signal that all was ready, the leather bandage was
removed from one of the cheetahs. It sat up, gave a yawn, and one look
to the plain. Its eyes at once dilated; a sniff, and, like an arrow,
it shot across, in stupendous bounds, so rapid and so prodigious, that
really the animal seemed ever on the wing. In much less time than it
has taken me to describe it—indeed, with the deadly speed and accuracy
of a shot—the panther had seized one of the deer by the throat and
pinned it to the ground, where it would have torn it to shreds had not
one of the scouts been ready to snatch it from its dangerous claws and
fangs.
This operation, in my opinion, is the most dangerous part of this
kind of sport. It needs, not only a good deal of pluck, but also some
management. The hunter—a naked Indian—carries a wooden bowl, a sharp
knife, and the leather mask of the cheetah. While the carnivorous,
blood-thirsty animal holds its prey, a sharp cut across the deer’s
throat causes the blood to flow into the bowl; dropping the knife, but
firmly holding the bowl, the native grasps the panther by the back
of the neck, and forcing it to relinquish the deer, thrusts its nose
into the hot blood; the mask is deftly fixed on, the deer skinned, the
entrails and fore-quarters put near the bowl, so that the cheetah may
find enough feed to divert its attention from the removal of the hind
quarters, which were brought to our halting place, whilst the next
cheetah was brought forward for another “slaughter of the innocents.”
At the risk of again losing caste amongst sportsmen, I confess that
while glad to have seen this deer-hunting once, I never wish to see
it again. It is a pity to take such a mean advantage of a pretty,
inoffensive creature, and bring to its resting place its deadly foe,
to kill it without even a chance of escape. Fleet as the cheetah is,
if it had neared the spot on the weather side, the deer would scent
its approach, and then the longer leg would win the day.
These are only a few amongst the many sports our genial host had
provided for our amusement during the short stay we made at Ulwur.
Every hour of our time was most fully employed driving, riding, or
steaming, to visit this most admirably governed kingdom.
One of the sights, however, which deserves special mention, is that of
the Crown jewels, belonging to the hereditary prince. A vast, strong,
fire-proof room in the palace has been fitted up with large Tann’s
safes, reaching from floor to ceiling. A guard stands sentry night and
day at the door of this chamber, the keys of which are in the keeping
of two trustworthy members of the Government.
In order that we may better inspect this wonderful and valuable
collection of gems, a large table, covered with blue cloth, had been
placed in the gallery facing the door, and seats provided round it.
Our friend Sri-Ram asked the ladies which kind of precious stones
they gave preference to. With true feminine acumen diamonds had the
majority of votes. Several of the safes were opened; sliding trays,
lined with purple velvet, were placed on the table, which at once
glittered with most costly jewellery, set with that most precious
of all gems. Rings, bangles, brooches, stars, necklaces, tiaras,
lockets—indeed, ornaments of all kinds, shapes, and fashion. After
these, pearls, lapis lazuli, emeralds, amethysts, rubies, garnets,
topazes, cat’s-eyes, turquoise, &c., &c., were laid before us in the
same profusion, the last of the “show” being a collection of twelve
hundred watches!—the last addition having been made only a few days
before in the shape of a shell of diminutive dimension, the case on
both sides being most marvellously enamelled work, studded with pearls
and brilliants, a _chef-d’œuvre_ of Parisian art.
On inquiry from Sri-Ram I was told that of course the Maharajah and
his wives had in their private apartments, and for daily use, some
of the most valuable gems; but what this strong room now held was
computed to be worth close on a million sterling!
To proceed in the usual course, going from the “sublime to the
ridiculous,” we left this gem room, and descended into the vault of
the palace, where the coin is kept. Vulgar and ridiculous though they
might seem, next to the dazzling sight we had just left, the piles of
bags containing gold mohurs, silver rupees, or four-anna pieces, were
nevertheless very tempting.
Ulwur is one of the few native princes to whom the British Government
has granted the right of coinage, consequently he now issues coins
of his own—with, of course, the Empress of India’s effigy. In this
strong-room, however, we found many chests or sackfuls of ancient
coins, and were permitted to annex a certain number of great
antiquity—some bearing dates, in Arabic figures, long, long before
the Christian era. Some of the smaller coins were actually beyond
computation as to age.
Whilst on the subject, which might prove of interest to archælogists,
I will mention that one day while on a hunting expedition in the
jungle between Dholpore and Ulwur, we came across a most interesting
piece of antiquity in the shape of a bronze cannon—some twenty-five or
thirty feet long, and, I should say, weighing several tons. The whole
of this piece of ordnance represented a mythological animal something
like a griffin—the mouth of the monster forming the muzzle of the gun,
whilst its tail ended it. The whole length of the piece is covered
with carvings or castings, intermingled with Arabic characters, which,
I am sorry to say, I was not able to read. When I mentioned this
“find” to the Prince (Dholpore), he told me that his people were aware
of the existence of this gun, but no one could say how it came there,
though, from some ruins in the neighbourhood, it is evident that at
some early period a fort or a city must have existed in the locality.
I regretted very much that time did not allow of my pushing my enquiry
further. But it is evident that this gun, which showed great artistic
beauty, a perfect knowledge of “powder,” and the use of the appliances
in boring metal, must have been manufactured some thousands of years
ago, the Arabic characters being quite identical with those I find on
the coins given to me by the Maharajah of Ulwur, which bear dates many
centuries anterior to the Christian era.
While so much time and so much money are spent in searching the ruins
of Pompeii, Herculanum, and Nineveh, I wonder that no one has yet
deemed it expedient to search Ceylon or India, where, I am quite sure,
most interesting relics of the early history of the world could be
traced. I cannot but think that if a corner of the veil which hides
the past of India was raised, many secrets would be divulged which
would upset old established theories.