FIFTH TOUR ABROAD
California--Honolulu--Japan--China--Singapore--Burmah
--India--Ceylon--The End.
I hope these hasty notes, so hurriedly and scantily given, may have
interested my readers enough to secure their company for one more
globe-trot, which shall be rushed through in order to bring these
reminiscences to a close.
A momentous event of 1910 was the death of King Edward VII., which threw
everybody into deep mourning; and it seemed to me Englishwomen never
looked so well as when dressed in black.
In the autumn I started for New York and Amarillo. Never before was I so
impressed with the growth and improvement and possibilities of New York
city, soon to be the most populous, wealthiest and greatest city the
world has ever seen. The incomparable beauty of the American woods and
forests in the fall again attracted me and afforded much pleasure.
From Amarillo I went on to San Francisco, stopping off to have yet one
more sight of the Grand Cañon of the Colorado River. San Francisco was
now almost completely restored, and much on the old plan. Her Knob-hill
palaces are gone, but her hotels are better and more palatial than ever.
November 22nd.--Sailed on a Japanese steamer for Yokohama, via Honolulu.
These Japanese steamers are first-class, and noted for cleanliness and
the politeness of the entire ship's company. We coaled at Honolulu and
then proceeded. On approaching Yokohama we got a fine view of Fuji-San,
the great national volcano, as it may be called, its perfect cone rising
sheer from the low plain to a height of 12,700 feet. Fuji is at present
quiescent; but Japan has some active volcanoes, and earthquakes are very
frequent. My visit was at the least favourable time of the year, viz.,
in winter. The country should be seen in spring, during the
cherry-blossom season, or in the autumn, when the tree foliage is almost
more beautiful.
From Yokohama I went on to Tokio, formerly Jeddo, and now the capital.
It is a large and busy city with some fine Government modern buildings.
The palace, parks and temples form the sights. In the city proper as in
all Japanese towns, the streets are very narrow and crowded with
rickshaws, the only means of passenger conveyance. At the Anglo-Japanese
dinner, given at my hotel, I had an opportunity of seeing Japanese men
and women in full-dress attire, and to notice the extreme formalities of
their greetings. A Japanese gentleman bows once, then again, and, as if
he had forgotten something, after a short interval a third time. From
Tokio I went to Kioto, formerly the residence of the Mikado, now purely
a native city, with no modern buildings and still narrower streets; but
it is the centre of the cloisonné, damascening and embroidery
industries. Hotels in Japan are everywhere quite good. Here I visited
the fencing and jiu-jitsu schools, which are attended by a large number
of pupils, women as well as men. Also the geisha school, and saw girls
taught dancing, music and tea ceremony. What perfectly delightful and
charming little ladies Japanese girls of apparently all classes are. The
smile of the geisha girl may be professional, but is very seductive and
penetrating; so that the mere European man is soon a willing worshipper.
The plump little waitresses in hotels and tea-houses, charmingly
costumed, smiling as only they can smile, are incomparable. The
Japanese, too, are the cleanest of all nations; the Chinese and Koreans
among the dirtiest. They are extremely courteous as well as polite. A
drunken man is hardly ever seen in Japan, a woman never. An angry word
is hardly ever heard; indeed, the language has no "swear" words. All the
people are artistic, even æsthetic. Arthur Diosy in his book declares
that the Japanese are the most cheerful, peaceable, law-abiding and
kindliest of all peoples. Up till the "Great Change," 1871, trade was
considered unsuitable for, and degrading to, a gentleman. Women here,
by-the-by, shave or have shaven the whole face, including the nose and
ears, though not the eyebrows. How these Japs worship the beauties of
Nature! Few of us might see much beauty in a purple cabbage; yet in my
hotel purple cabbages were put in prominent places to decorate the
dining-hall, and were really quite effective.
From Kioto I went to Nara, once the capital of the Empire, a pretty
place with large park and interesting museum. A great religious festival
was on, including a procession of men in ancient armour and costumes.
There was also some horse-racing, which was quite comical. Apparently no
European but myself was present. On travelling to Nara I passed through
the tea district of Oji. The gardens are very beautiful and carefully
tended. It was a great treat to me this first opportunity to see
something of Japanese peasant life, and to admire the intensive and
thorough cultivation. Not a foot of productive soil is wasted. The
landscape of rice-fields, succeeded by tea-gardens, bamboo groves, up to
the forest or brush-clad hills, and the very picturesque villages and
farmhouses and rustic temples, form many a delightful picture. In the
growing season the whole country must be very beautiful. Excellent trout
and salmon fishing may then be had. The adopted national game for
youths seems to be base-ball, and not cricket as in China.
Next I went to Kobe, via Osaka, the great manufacturing centre of the
Empire. At Kobe took another Japanese steamer for Shanghai, calling at
Moji, Shimonoseki and Nagasaki, and traversing the wonderfully beautiful
inland Sea of Japan, a magnified, and quite as beautiful, Loch Lomond.
This sea was dotted with innumerable fishing-boats. Indeed, Japan's
sea-fisheries must be one of her most valuable assets. Moji harbour is a
beautiful one, has an inlet and an outlet, but appears land-locked. On
the mainland side is Shimonoseki, where Li Hung Chang signed the Peace
Treaty with Japan, and where he was later wounded by an assassin.
Nagasaki has also a fine harbour. From here I took a rickshaw ride over
the hills to a lovely little summer coast-resort, passing through a most
picturesque country.
Japan has, among many others, one particular curiosity in the shape of a
domestic cock, possessing a tail as much as fifteen feet in length, and
which tail receives its owner's, or rather its owner's owner's, most
careful consideration. The unfortunate bird is kept in a very small
wicker cage, so small that he can't turn round, the long tail feathers
escaping through an aperture and drooping to the ground. Once a day the
bird is taken out and allowed to exercise for a short time on a
spotlessly clean floor-mat.
While in Japan I was told that her modern cultured men are satisfied
with a simple work-a-day system of Ethics, priestly guidance being
unnecessary, and they regard religion as being for the ignorant,
superstitious or thoughtless. Thus they "emancipate their consciences
from the conventional bonds of traditional religions."
It has been remarked that the Japanese will probably never again be such
heroes, or at least will never be such reckless, fanatical fighters as
they were in the late war, as civilization and property rights will make
life more worth living and therefore preserving. The same might apply to
the Fuzzy Wuzzies, to Cromwell's Ironsides, and to some extent our own
Highlanders and others of a like fanatical tendency.
It had been my intention and hope to visit Korea, Port Arthur, Mukden
and Peking; but was advised very strongly, on account of the extreme
cold and almost Arctic conditions said to be prevailing in North China,
not to go there. But at Shanghai I had better information, contradicting
these reports and describing the weather as delightful at the capital.
Shanghai has an immense river and ocean trade, and in the waterway are
swung river gun-boats of all nations, as well as queer-looking Chinese
armed junks, used in putting down piracy. I visited the city club, the
country club, and the racecourse, and took a stroll at night through
Soochow Road, among the native tea-houses, theatres, etc. Someone
advised me to visit a town up the river on a certain day to witness the
execution of some dozen river pirates and other criminals, a common
occurrence; but such an attraction did not appeal to me.
In China, as in Japan and other countries, the German, often gross,
selfish and vulgar, is ever present. But he is resourceful and
determined, and threatens to push the placid Englishman to the wall.
Though the practice is not now permitted, Chinese women's bound and
deformed feet are still to the stranger a constant source of wonder. It
is said the custom arose in the desire of Court ladies to emulate the
very tiny feet of a certain royal princess; but it is also suggested
that the custom was instituted to stop the female gadding-about
propensity!
Here in Shanghai I first observed edible swallow-nests in the market for
sale. They did not look nice, but why should they not be so, knowing as
we do that the young of swallows, unlike those of other birds, vent
their ordure over the sides, so that the nests are not in any way
defiled. Here I also learned that Pidgin, as in the expression "Pidgin"
English, is John's attempt to pronounce "business."
From Shanghai to Soochow city, a typical Chinese walled town, still
quite unmodernized, and no doubt the same as it was 2000 years ago.
Tourists seldom enter it, and no European dwells within its walls,
inside of which are crowded and jammed 500,000 souls. The main street
was not more than six to eight _feet_ wide, and so filled with such a
jostling, busy crowd of people as surely could not be seen anywhere else
on earth. Even rickshaws are not allowed to enter, there being no room
for them. Progress can only be made on a donkey, and then with much
shouting and discomfort. What a busy people the Chinese are! Some day
they may people the earth. They seem to be even more intelligent than
the Japanese, more honest and more industrious; and have an almost
lovable disposition. And what giants they are compared to their
neighbours!--the men from the north being especially so. I also went by
narrow and vile-smelling streets to visit a celebrated leaning pagoda
near Soochow, and on returning took the opportunity offered of
inspecting with much interest a mandarin's rock-garden, purely Chinese
and entirely different from Japanese similar retreats. In Shanghai I
visited the original tea-house depicted on the well-known willow-pattern
china ware.
January 1st.--Arrived at Hong-Kong and admired its splendid harbour and
surroundings. This is one of the greatest seaports in the world, with an
enormous trade. The whole island belongs to Great Britain; unlike
Shanghai, where different nationalities merely have concessions. In the
famous Happy Valley I had several days' golfing with a naval friend, and
we played very badly. A trip up the river to Canton, the southern
capital of China, an immense city with 2,000,000 population, was full of
interest. Half the population seemingly live in boats.
What indefatigable workers the Chinese are. They seem to work all night
and they seem to work all day. They are busy as ants. If one cannot find
employment otherwise he will make it! Barring the beggars, there are no
unemployed and no unemployables. What a mighty force they must become in
the world's economy. We estimate China's population by millions, but
forget to properly scale their energy and industry. What is the future
of such a people to be! Yet they seem to be incapable of any general
national movement: each is absorbed in his immediate work and contented
to be so; so unlike the Japanese, with equal energy and industry, plus
boundless ambition and patriotism.[4]
[Footnote 4: Appendix, Note I.]
The Chinaman's pigtail calls for explanation. The Manchus, on conquering
China in 1644, decreed that all Chinese should shave the rest of the
head but wear the pigtail. The Chinese would not submit to this; so the
politic Manchu emperor further decreed that only loyal subjects might
adopt the custom, criminals to be debarred. This ruse was so successful
that now the Chinaman is even proud of his adornment, and little
advantage is being taken of a recent relaxation of the decree.
Sailing for Singapore I was blessed with a cabin all to myself, and what
a blessing it is! In all my travels I have been singularly fortunate in
securing privacy in this way.
There is not much to interest in Singapore. It is one of the hottest
places on earth, the same in winter and summer, purely tropical. It has,
however, fine parks, streets and open places. The principal hotel is the
"Raffles," which I should imagine is also the worst. The most notable
feature of Singapore is the variety of "natives" domiciled
there--Ceylonese, Burmese, Chinese, Japanese, Siamese, Hindoos and
Malays. After leaving Singapore we looked in at Penang, where we had
time to inspect a famous Chinese temple. An American Army General,
D----, and his wife were among the passengers, and I found much pleasure
in their company; indeed, we travelled thereafter much together in
Burmah and India.
Rangoon, where we arrived next, is a large, well-laid-out city, as
cosmopolitan as Singapore. The bazaars are well worth visiting, and the
working of elephants in the great teak yards is one of the tourist's
principal sights. But the great Shwe Dagon pagoda is of course the
centre of interest, and indeed it is one of the most astonishing places
of worship it has been my fortune to visit. The pagoda itself is of the
typical bell shape, solidly built of brick, gilded from base to summit,
and crowned with a golden Ti. The shrines, too, which surround and
jostle it, hold the attention and wonder of the visitor. There are very
many of these, mostly of graceful design, with delicate and intricate
wood carvings and other decorations. The pagoda is the most venerated of
all Buddhist places of worship, containing as it does not only the eight
sacred hairs of Gautama, but also relics of the three Buddhas who
preceded him. It is also from its great height, 370 feet (higher than St
Paul's Cathedral), and graceful shape, extremely imposing and sublime.
From Rangoon I trained to Mandalay, on the Irawadi River, not a large
town, but rich in historical associations, and famous for its Buddhist
pagodas, such as The Incomparable and the Arakan; also the Queen's
Golden Monastery. King Theebaw's palace remains much as it was, and well
worth examination. The population here is almost purely Burmese; in fact
you see the Burmese at their best, and the impression is always
favourable. What brilliant but beautiful colours they affect in their
head-clothes, jackets and silken gowns. They are a cheerful,
light-hearted and good-natured people, lazy perhaps, but all apparently
well enough to do. The boys and the young men play the national game of
football, the ball, made simply of lightly-plaited bamboo strips, being
kicked and tossed into the air with wonderful skill and activity, never
being allowed to touch the ground. The way they can "take" the ball from
behind, and with the heel or side of the foot toss it upwards and
forwards, would be a revelation even to the Newcastle United. The women
and girls have utmost freedom and are to be seen everywhere, often
smoking enormous cigarettes: merry and careless, but always well, and
often charmingly, dressed.
A fine view, and good idea, of the great Irawadi River may be obtained
from Mandalay; but time was pressing, so I railed back to Rangoon
instead of making the river trip, which my friends, the D----s, did.
The steamer to Calcutta was unusually crowded, but I was again fortunate
enough to secure the use of the pilot's cabin all to myself. The Hugli
River was familiar even after thirty-four years' absence, and in
Calcutta I noticed little change. The hotels, including the Grand and
Continental, are quite unworthy of the city, only the very old and
well-known Great Eastern approaching the first-class character. Calcutta
was getting hot, so I at once went on to Darjeeling, hoping to get a
view of what my eyes had ever longed to see--the glorious high peaks of
the Himalayas, and the roof of the world. After a few hours' run through
the celebrated Terai jungle, the haunt, and probably final sanctuary, of
the big game of India, the track ascends rapidly and picturesquely
through the tea district of Kangra, and arrives at Darjeeling, elevation
7500 feet, the summer home of the Bengal Government and the merchant
princes of Calcutta and elsewhere. I had been forewarned that the
chances of seeing the high peaks at this time of the year were extremely
slim; but my experience and disappointment in connection with Korea and
Peking taught me to disregard such warnings; and, as it turned out, I
was rewarded with a perfect day and magnificent views of Mounts
Kinchinjunga and Everest, and all the other majestic heights; seen, too,
in all their phases of cloud and mist, of perfectly clear blue sky, and
of sunrise and sunset effects. It was indeed a most satisfying and
absorbing twenty-four hours' visit, as I had also time, under the
guidance of an official friend, to visit the picturesque weekly market
or bazaar, where natives from Sikkim, Nepal, Butan and Tibet may be seen
in all their dirt and strangeness. Also the quite beautiful Botanic
Gardens, the Club House, the prayer-wheels, etc. More than that, I was
privileged to pay my respects to the Dalai Lama, who had but recently
left his kingdom and taken refuge here. The acknowledged spiritual head
of the Buddhists of Mongolia and China is a young man with a dreamy,
absorbed expression of countenance, perhaps not of much intellectuality,
but who is approachable even to the merely curious. My friend and kind
cicerone was Commissioner of the Bengal police, and was extremely busy
laying guards along the railroad and taking all other necessary
precautions for the safety of the German Imperial Crown Prince during
his projected visit to Darjeeling, a visit ultimately abandoned. I can
imagine his chagrin at the waste of all his labours, expense to the
Indian Government, etc. etc., due to the caprice of this apparently
frivolous and not quite courteous young hopeful. Indeed, the Crown
Prince, though a popular young fellow enough, was the source of trouble
and tribulation to his hosts, breaking conventions and scandalizing
Society by his disregard of its usages.
Returning to Calcutta I thence took train to Agra via Allahabad,
purposely, on account of the great discomfort and poor hotel
accommodation due to the large tourist traffic, avoiding Lucknow,
Benares and Cawnpore. At Allahabad the Aga Khan, temporal head of the
Mohammedans of India, and a man of great authority and influence, joined
our train, and part of the way I was lucky enough to be in his company
and had an opportunity of speaking with him. In appearance he is a
Turk, quite European in dress, and seems capable, energetic, sociable
and agreeable. At every stopping-place he received an ovation, crowds of
his Mussulman supporters and friends, among them apparently being chiefs
and rajahs and other men of high degree, greeting him with much
enthusiasm, which enthusiasm I learned was aroused by His Highness'
endeavour towards the raising of the status of the Mohammedan College of
Aligarh to that of a university.
I should say here that, on Indian railways, the first-class carriages
are divided into compartments, containing each four beds, but in which
it is customary to put only two passengers, at least during sleeping
hours, and unless an unusual crowd requires otherwise.
It was also on this train I made the acquaintance of a gentleman on his
way to visit the Maharaja of Gwalior, and who was kind enough to ask me
to accompany him. I told him that if he would secure me an invitation
from the Maharaja I would be only too pleased to do so. Gwalior was a
place on my itinerary anyway; to go there as a guest would secure me
many advantages not attainable by the ordinary tourist. My friend said
he would see the Maharaja at once and have my visit arranged for. A few
days afterwards I received advice that it had been done, so on arrival
at Gwalior I was met by one of the State carriages and conveyed to the
Guest House, formerly the zenana, close to the palace, a very beautiful
and handsome building, where an excellent staff of servants, capital
meals, choice liquors and cigars, were at our free disposal. His
Highness does not eat with his guests, but they are all put up in this
building; and during big shoots, durbars, or festive occasions, the
house is always full. At the time of my visit the few guests included
two Scotch manufacturers, who had just effected large sales of machinery
to the Maharaja, the one securing from him an order worth £60,000 for
steam-breaking ploughs, the other an order of some £20,000 for pumping
appliances. The Maharaja is a thoroughly progressive man, has an
enormous revenue, and devotes a large part of it to the bringing into
cultivation tracts of hitherto unbroken and unoccupied land, which no
doubt will eventually increase his revenue and provide homesteads for
his people. Sindia, as his name is, is a keen soldier, a keen sportsman,
and most loyal to the British Raj. He moves about freely, wearing a
rough tweed suit, is busy and occupied all day long, and though he has
ministers and officials of all degrees, and keeps great state on
occasion, his army numbering some 5000 men, he finds time to superintend
the various departments of his Government, and to administer his State
with a thoroughness uncommon among Indian potentates. The new palace is
very beautiful and furnished in European manner, apparently quite
regardless of expense. The crystal chandeliers in the reception-rooms
are magnificent, and must alone represent fabulous sums. Near by the
palace are a number of lions, now kept in proper cages, but I must say
from the smell and filth not under very sanitary conditions. These lions
he had imported from abroad and turned loose to furnish sport to his
shooting friends; but they killed so many of the peasantry that they had
to be recaptured and confined. The town of Lashkar, the State capital
city, being reported full of plague, I was naturally careful in passing
through. Nothing in it calls for comment, however. Gwalior Fort, on a
high rocky plateau, has much historic interest. In it are the ancient
palaces, still in fair condition but long ago abandoned, certain Jain
temples covered with bas-relief carvings, tanks and many old ruins. The
entrance is handsome and impressive. My friend and myself were supplied
with an elephant, so we rode all over the immense fort, now almost
silent, having only a small guard and a few other occupants. Altogether
I enjoyed the visit very much, and after three or four days' stay
returned to Agra. Everyone knows Agra, with its heavenly Taj-Mahal, its
great fortress, its pearl mosque, its beautiful halls of audience and
its palaces. It is truly sad to know that one of our former
Governor-Generals actually proposed to tear down the Taj-Mahal so that
he could use the marble for other purposes! Among these delights of
architecture one could wander for days, ever with an unquenched greed
for the charm of their beauties. One sees marbled trellis-work of
exquisite design and execution, and inlaid flower wreaths and scrolls of
red cornelian and precious stone, as beautiful in colour as graceful in
form. Agra's cantonment avenues and parks are kept in excellent order.
The temperature at the time of my visit was delightfully cool, and the
hotel the best I had yet found in India. Fatepur Sikri, a royal city
built by Akbar, only to be abandoned by him again, is near Agra, and
possesses enough deserted palaces, mosques and other beautiful buildings
to make it well worth a visit.
There is, for instance, the great mosque, rival to the Taj-Mahal, the
inside of which is entirely overlaid with mother-of-pearl.
From Agra I went to Delhi, India's imperial city. In and around it are
innumerable palaces, mosques, tombs and forts, each and all worthy of
careful inspection; but I will only mention the Jama Musjid; inside the
fort the Diwan-i-Am, wherein formerly stood the famous peacock throne;
and the Diwan-i-Kas, at either end of which, over the outer arches, 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!" In the city itself is
the famous street called Chandni Chauk. North of the city is a district
where the principal incidents of the siege took place, and there also is
the plain devoted to imperial durbars and assemblages. South of the city
are many celebrated tombs, such as those of Emperor Humayun, and of
Tughlak; and the majestic Kutab Minar. Mutiny recollections of course
enormously add to one's interest in Delhi, and many days may be
agreeably passed in company with her other historic, tragic and romantic
associations. At the time of my visit preparations were already
beginning for the great Coronation Durbar to be held next winter. Most
hotels and private houses have already been leased. What the general
public will do for accommodation I do not know. One will almost
necessarily, like the King, have to go under canvas. The Circuit House
will only be used by His Majesty should bad weather prevail. The native
rulers of every grade are going to make such a display of Oriental
magnificence as was never seen before. To many it will be their ruin, or
at least a serious crippling of their resources; but it is a chance for
display that does not often occur and they seem determined to make the
most of it.
Here at Delhi the General and myself again joined forces, he and his
wife having visited Lucknow and Cawnpore. We took train direct to
Peshawar, via Rawal Pindi and Lahore. I never knew anyone who enjoyed
foreign travel so much as my American friend. He was in a constant state
of delight, finding interest and pleasure in small matters that never
even attracted my attention, though as a rule my faculty for observation
is by no means obtuse. In Burmah the bright-hued cupras of the natives
filled him with intense joy, and the presence of some closely-screened
native ladies on a ferryboat so held his gaze that his wife (and I
suspect they were not long married) must have felt pangs of jealousy.
But he was a keen soldier, and had frequently represented his country at
the German and other manoeuvres, and had been Adjutant-General at the
inauguration of President Roosevelt, a very honourable position indeed.
So he was intensely interested in old forts and battlefields, and his
enthusiasm while in Peshawar and the Khaiber Pass was boundless. More
than that he was a strong Anglo-Phile, and amused me by his disparaging
criticism on how his own Government did things in the Philippines and
elsewhere, compared with what he saw in India and other British
possessions. Peshawar is a very delightful place, or so at least it
appeared to me. We lodged in a capital though small hotel. The climate
was then very agreeable; the cantonment gardens and avenues are a
paradise of beauty, at least compared with the surrounding dry and
semi-barren country. In the native city one mixed with new races of
people, Afghans and Asians, and picturesque and fierce-looking tribesmen
from the hills. Also an immense number of camels, the only means of
traffic communication with western and northern native states.
But before arriving at Peshawar one must not forget to mention the
magnificent view obtained from the car windows of the glorious range of
Cashmere Snowy Mountains, showing peaks of 20,000 to 25,000 feet
elevation; nor the crossing by a fortified railway bridge of the
historic Indus River, near Attock, at the very spot where the Greek
Alexander entered India on his campaign of conquest A mile above this
point the Kabul River joins the Indus. Here too is a romantic-looking
town and fortress built by the Emperor Akbar, still unimpaired and in
occupation by British troops. The approaches to the bridge and fort are
strongly guarded, emplacements for guns being noticeable at every
vantage point on the surrounding hills, while ancient round towers and
other fortifications tell of the troublous times and martial deeds this
important position has been witness to.
For our visit to the Khaiber Pass General Nixon, Commandant at Peshawar,
put a carriage at our disposal, in which we drove as far as Jamrud, the
isolated fort so often pictured in our illustrated papers, where we
exchanged into tongas, in which to complete the journey through the pass
as far as Ali Musjid. The pass is now patrolled by the Afridi Rifles, a
corps composed of Afridi tribesmen commanded by British officers. At
frequent intervals along the route these Afridi sentinels can be seen
standing on silent guard on all commanding points of the hills. One sees
numerous Afridi hamlets, though what the occupants find to support
themselves with it is difficult to understand. A good carriage road
continues all the way, in places steep enough and tortuous, as the rough
broken nature of the country necessitates. By another road or trail,
paralleling our own, a continuous string of camel caravans proceeds in
single file at a leisurely gait, the animals loaded with merchandise for
the Kabul market and others in Central Asia. It is a rough, desolate and
uninteresting country, yet grand and beautiful in its way, and one is at
once struck with the difficulties to be encountered by troops
endeavouring to force their way through, commanded as the pass is at
every turn by positions so admirably suited for guerrilla warfare and
delightful possibilities for an enemy with sniping propensities. At Ali
Musjid the camel and carriage tracks come together. Here at this little
mosque was the point beyond which we were not allowed to proceed; so
after a most interesting visit we returned to Peshawar. We were most
fortunate in the weather, as the strong wind which always blows down the
pass is in winter time generally excessively cold. At Peshawar I bade
good-bye to my most agreeable American friends, the General being keen
on visiting Quetta; whither, had it not been so much out of my own
proposed line of travel, I would gladly have accompanied him. So my next
move was back to Delhi, and thence by train via Jeypore to Udaipur, one
of the most delightfully picturesque and interesting of all Indian
native capitals. There is a tiny little hotel at Udaipur, outside the
walls, showing that visiting tourists are few and far between. The
Maharana holds by his old and established customs, and has none of the
modern spirit shown by such princes as Sindia, the Nizam, and certain
other native chiefs. He has, however, gone so far as to furnish his new
palace in a most gorgeous manner, the chairs, tables, mirror frames,
bedsteads seen in the State apartments being composed of crystal glass.
The show attraction of the palace, in the eyes of the attendants, who
were ever at one's beck and call, was a Teddy dog with wagging head,
which miracle of miracles one seemed to be expected to properly marvel
at. The old palace, adjoining the new, is a much finer building, being
mostly of marble, and is purely Oriental in its stairways, doorways,
closets, balconies and delightful roof-gardens, as one's preconceived
notions expect an Eastern potentate's palace to be. The new palace
showed no sign of occupancy, and I imagined the Maharana, then absent,
really favours the older building, and small blame to him! Around in
various places the State elephants are stabled, or rather chained, in
the open air, and looked after by their numerous attendants. In the
grand court in front were several of these animals, and a myriad of
pigeons, protected by their sanctity, flew about in clouds, or perched
on the projections of the palace walls. From a boat on the large and
lovely lake, on whose very edge the commanding palace stands, a
beautiful view is obtained. On islands in the lake two delightful little
summer palaces are built, of white marble and luxuriously furnished
within. Elephants were bathing themselves at the water's edge, and the
roar of caged lions was heard from the neighbouring royal garden.
Pea-fowl perched on the marble colonnade, and pigeons were circling and
sailing in the glorious sunshine. What a sight! especially when evening
drew in, and the setting sun lighted up the graceful cupolas and domes,
and threw shadows round the towers and battlements, the whole reflected
in the glassy surface of the water. At one place near by the wild pigs
approached to be fed and some grand old fellows may be seen amongst
them.
[Illustration: PALACE OF MAJARANA OF UDAIPUR.]
It is still the custom of nearly all men here above the rank of coolie
to carry swords or other weapons. For are these Rajputs not of a proud
and warlike race, as may be seen by their bearing; and is not their
Maharana of the longest lineage in India, and the highest in rank of all
the Rajput princes? A few miles from the capital is Chitorgarh. Here I
saw the wonderful old fortress, with its noble entrance gate, and the
ancient town of Chitor, once the capital of Mewar. Also the two imposing
towers of Fame and Victory. Throughout the state one is struck by the
great number of wild pea-fowl picking their way through the stubble just
as pheasants do. The flesh of pea-fowl, which I have tasted, is
excellent eating, surpassing that of the pheasant. One also sees numbers
of a large grey, long-tailed monkey, which seem to preferably attach
themselves to old and ruined temples or tombs. From here, Chitorgarh, I
next took train to Bombay, passing through Rutlam, a great
poppy-producing centre. At Baroda I received into my compartment the
brother of the late Gaikwar (uncle of the present?). It had often
occurred to me before to wonder how the high-class natives travel on the
railways. Never had I yet seen a native enter a first-class compartment
where there happened to be any Europeans. In this instance, at Baroda,
I had noticed a man, apparently of consequence, judging by his
attendants, evidently wanting to travel by this train. Soon one of the
party approached, and almost humbly, it seemed more than politely, asked
if I would have no objection to the company of the brother of the
Gaikwar. Of course I said I could have no objection, and so we travelled
together to Bombay. But what is the feeling between the two races that
keeps them thus apart?
Bombay surprised me more by the delightfully cold breeze then blowing
than by anything else. I took a drive over Malabar Hill and saw the
Parsee Towers of Silence, as they are popularly called. The immense Taj
Hotel, where I stayed one night, by no means justifies its pretensions.
Indeed, it is one of the poorest or worst in all India. Next day I
started out for Hyderabad, and had a long, hot, slow twenty-four hours'
journey; the principal crop noticed being to me the familiar Kafir corn.
Yes, it was very hot and dusty. As usual, the train was packed with
natives, but myself seemed to be the only European on board. Arrived at
Hyderabad, I at once drove over to Secunderabad, a very large British
cantonment and station. From here, missing the friends I had come to
see, and there being nothing to specially interest otherwise, I again
took train to Madras. A letter of introduction in my pocket to the
Nizam's Prime Minister might have been useful in seeing the city had I
presented it, but pressure of time induced me to push on; nor did I stop
in Madras longer than to allow of a drive round the city, the heat being
very great. Indeed, I was getting very tired of such hurried travel and
sight-seeing, and was longing for a week's rest and quietude in the cool
and pleasant highlands of Ceylon. My health also was now giving me some
concern; so on again to Madura, _en route_ to Tuticorin, from whence a
steamer would take me across to the land of spicy breezes. Madura has a
wonderful old temple of immense size, surrounded by gopuras of pyramidal
form, in whose construction huge stones of enormous dimensions were
utilized; the temple also has much fine carving, etc. The old palace is
of great beauty and interest.
Colombo was, as usual, uncomfortably warm; only on the seashore at Galle
Face could one get relief, and Galle Face with its excellent hotel is
certainly a very delightful place. I did not stay in Colombo, but at
once took train to visit Anauradapura and the dead cities of Ceylon.
Here was the heart of a district ten miles in diameter, practically
covered by the site and remains of the ancient city, which in its prime,
about the beginning of the Christian era, ranked with Babylon and
Nineveh in its dimensions, population and magnificence. Its walls
included an area of 260 square miles. Among its ruins the most notable
are the dagobas (pagodas), some of such enormous size that the number of
bricks used in their construction baffles conception. One of the dagobas
has a diameter of 327 feet and a height of 270. It is solidly built of
bricks, and contains material enough to build a complete modern town of
50,000 people. These Buddhist dagobas of Ceylon have the bell-shape
form, and serve the same purpose as the Shwe Dagon in Rangoon, viz., to
shelter relics of the Buddhas. Close by, within the walls of a Buddhist
temple, or monastery, still grows the famous Bo or Pipal tree, the
oldest living historical tree in the world, brought here 250
B.C. from Buddh Gaya in India. Only a fragment of the original
main trunk now exists, the various offshoots growing vigorously in the
surrounding compound, all still guarded and attended by the priests as
lovingly as when done 2200 years ago. At Anauradapura is a quite
charming little Rest House, shaded and surrounded by beautiful tropical
trees of great variety.
From here I went to Kandy, the former capital of the native kings of
that name. In the fourteenth century a temple was erected here to
contain a tooth of Buddha and other relics. Later, the temple was sacked
and the sacred tooth destroyed, but another to which was given similar
attributes was put in its place. Kandy is a pretty spot, with a good
hotel and agreeable climate, its elevation being 1800 feet above
sea-level. Near by is Paradenia and the beautiful Botanical Gardens, in
which it is a perfect delight to wander.
We had already passed through a most lovely and picturesque country; but
the grandest and most impressive scenery of Ceylon lies between Kandy
and Newara Elia. Tea-gardens extend everywhere, and the cosy,
neat-looking bungalows of the planters have a most attractive
appearance. Newara Elia stands very high, some 7000 feet. Its vegetation
is that of a temperate climate, and in the winter months the climate
itself is ideal. The bracing atmosphere suggests golf and all other
kinds of sport, and golfing there is of the very best kind. There is an
excellent hotel, though I myself put up at the Hill Club. All Ceylon is
beautiful, the roads are good, and many delightful excursions can be
made. I do not think I ever saw a more beautiful country. But the
sailing date draws near, so I must hurry down again to Colombo, and thus
practically complete my second tour round the world. A P. & O. steamer
brought us to Aden, the canal, Messina and Marseilles. We enjoyed lovely
cool and calm weather all the way till near the end, when off the
"balmy" coast of the Riviera we encountered bitter cold winds and stormy
seas. And so through France to England, to the best country of them all,
even though it be the land of coined currency bearing no testimony to
its value; where registered letters may be receipted for by others than
the addressee; and where butcher meat is freely exposed in the shops,
and even outside, to all the filth that flies--my last fling at the dear
old country.
Someone has asked me which was the most beautiful place I had ever seen?
It was impossible to answer. The whole world is beautiful! The barren
desert, the boundless ocean, the mountain region and the flat country,
even these monotonous Staked Plains of New Mexico, under storm or
sunshine, all equally compel us to admiration and wonderment.
In closing this somewhat higgledy-piggledy narrative, let me once more
express my hope that readers will have found in it some entertainment,
perhaps instruction, and possibly amusement.
APPENDIX
_Note I._--An outcry against Mormonism has been raised lately in this
country. It is its polygamous character that has been attacked. But does
polygamy deserve all that is said about it? It is not immoral and should
not be criminal. Compare it with the very vicious modern custom of
restricted families, which is immoral and should be criminal. Where is
our population going to come from? The Chinese, Japanese, Indians and
negroes are swarming all over the earth; while our race is almost
stagnant, yet owning and claiming continents and islands practically
unpeopled. Some day, possibly, polygamy will have to be permitted, even
by the most civilized of nations.
_Note II._--In this present year there is much writing and much talking
about arbitration treaties and preferential tariffs. A general
arbitration on _all_ matters between the United States and Great Britain
is probably quite impracticable. Preferential tariff within the Empire
would be highly advantageous to the Mother Country. If so, let us go for
it while the opportunity offers. But it does seem to me there is a
much-mistaken idea prevalent at home as to the loyalty of the Colonies
and Dominions. One travels for information and should be allowed to give
his conclusions. What holds these offshoots to the mother stem? Loyalty?
I think not. Simply the realization that they are not (not yet) strong
enough to stand alone: and it is the opinion of many that, as soon as
they are, loyalty will be thrown to the winds; and naturally! (Since
the above was written has it not been abundantly verified?) There is
also even a belief (the wish being father to the thought) that the
United States of America have a sentimental feeling for the Old Country;
and one frequently hears the platform or banquet stock phrase, "Blood is
thicker than water." It would be well if our people were enlightened
with the truth. After twenty-five years' residence in the United States
I will dare to say that the two nations are entirely foreign and
antagonistic one to another. And it is a fortunate thing that between
them few "Questions" remain to be arbitrated either by pen or sword. The
two peoples do not understand one another, and do not try to. The
ordinary English traveller does not meet or mix with the real American
people, who are rapidly developing a civilization entirely their own, in
social customs, in civil government, and even in fashions of dress.
_Note III._--Might a just comparison not be drawn between these "dogies"
and the type of men we now recruit for our standing Army? Are they not
dogies? Is it not a fact that many of them never had a square meal in
their lives! At least they look like it. But when taken up, if not while
yet babies at least when they are still at a critical age of
development, say eighteen years, and fed substantially and satisfyingly,
as is now done in the Army, what an almost miraculous physical change
takes place! And not only physical, but mental and moral, due to the
influence of discipline and athletic exercises. If such be the effect on
our few annual recruits, why not submit the whole young manhood of the
nation to such beneficial conditions by the introduction of compulsory
national military service? And not only that! Is not the private soldier
of this country, alone of all others, refused admission to certain
places of entertainment open to the public? Why? Because he is a
hireling. Because no man of character or independence will adopt such a
calling. He would degrade himself by doing so. But make the service
compulsory to all men, and at once the calling becomes an honourable
one. Can it be imagined for a moment that any of our raw recruits enter
the service from a love for King and country? No; they sell their
birthright for a red coat and a pittance, renounce their independence
and stultify the natural ambition that should stimulate every man worthy
of the name.
Though our men do not have the initiative and self-resource of the
Americans, still they are the smartest and best-set-up troops in the
world. Many of them are of splendid physique and look like they could go
anywhere and do anything. The whole world _was_ open to them; yet here
they still are in the ranks, dummies and automatons, devoid of ambition
and self-assertiveness.
Only national service will rid us of the army of unemployables. It will
develop them physically and mentally, and make men of them such as our
Colonies will be glad and proud to admit to citizenship.
EDINBURGH
COLSTONS LIMITED
PRINTERS
End of Project Gutenberg's Ranching, Sport and Travel, by Thomas Carson